#but that's what u get when u have a cocktail with tequila and then one with vodka and then a coffee one with liqueur

[safyresky]

HOW DO YOU DO FELLOW HUMANS, HUMAN FELLOWS. How we feelin after episode 4? Feelin like uh, we have MAYBE seeeeeen a takeover of the North Pole before? Albeit very different??? Still missing our frosty mans?!?!!?

WELL GOOD NEWS. IT IS 12AM, I AM DRUNK, AND I AM HERE WITH ANOTHER PLUG FOR ANOTHER FANFIC I WROTE CALLED THE TWELVE YEARS OF FROSTMAS.

Frostmas? you say. I see it mentioned, in passing, in Crystal Springs, which I have definitely read since you pinned it and offered it to us in a trying time! You say.

That's sweet, I reply. You can be honest, it's okay if you didn't read it!

Okay good, you say, because life gets busy and I'm fucking tired and it's so niche. There's barely any B-Man! Where is the B-Man!

I get it, y'all are B-Man stans. What's a Jack stan to do in this economy.

THIS, APPARENTLY.

anyway.

LET ME OFFER YOU A FROSTMAS! WHAT IS FROSTMAS ABOUT, YOU ASK? SIMPLE!

FROSTMAS IS MY OWN PERSONAL TAKE ON HOW JACK'S REIGN AS SANTA WENT FOR THE 12 YEARS HE WAS SANTA-ING ABOUT, BEFORE SCOTT CAME BACK AND THEY D-D-D-DUELED!

In TTYoF, commonly referred to here at SafyreSky Industries as Frostmas, Jack poofs to the moment the sleigh descends (because I said so) and starts his reign as Santa, the long way round. Of course, when he arrives, Bernard (YAY!) is like "well this is fucking WRONG" and summons the Council.

Unfortunately, Jack grabbed the coat; so now he's Santa. But then...who'll be Jack Frost?

Well, his Legate (remember that? From the Crystal Springs plug?) of course! His lil sister! My OC, Jacqueline Mother Fucking Frost!

AND ENTER JACQUELINE! WHO IS TELLING US THE STORY OF JACK'S REIGN AS SANTA FROM HER PERSPECTIVE! IT'S FIRST PERSON LADS! AND JACQUELINE IS ONE HELL OF A NARRATOR!

Seems good for Jack, right? He's Santa, Jacqueline is taking care of his old job? WRONG. BECAUSE MOTHER FUCKING JACQUELINE FUCKING FROST REMEMBERS THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE

AND SHE IS NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.

Join her retelling of Jack's reign as Santa, which she has dubbed "The Twelve Years of Frostmas", and watch how Jack takes the Workshop from tradition to CAPITALIST HELLSCAPE! Watch as he slowly descends into "maybe we should get the guillotine" territory, and how the Workshop we know and love comes to be the capitalist hellscape we see Scott disassociate in in the film.

AND MAYBE a narrative in which an unhinged woman gets a villain arc and becomes her worst fear, while the not quite a foil foil (I forget the other word ): realizes that this isn't at all what he wants, and watch how it all unfolds! Wow!

this isn't a good sell but it's 12:30 am and I've had like, the equivalent of 7 shots and APPARENTLY 7 shot Dani is like, wow, i am a wordsmith. everyone should read this shit. wow.

TL;DR: I WROTE A FIC CALLED THE TWLEVE YEARS OF FROSTMAS THAT EXPLORES JACK'S REIGN AS SANTA AND HOW WE GET FROM WORKSHOP TO SANTA DISNEY LAND, FEATURING AN OC THAT TELLS US HOW IT WENT FROM HER PERSPECTIVE. AND ALSO DID I MENTION THAT BERNARD (YAY!) IS FEATURED PROMINENTLY? YEAH BERNARD (YAY!) STANS, I'M TALKING TO YOU!

So, in conclusion. Reasons to read The Twelve Years of Frostmas by safyresky:

Jack as Santa

Jacqueline Mother fucking Frost gets to be unhinged and maybe a bit antagonistic (a lot if ur Jack)

Bernard's there! (YAY!)

Also, Bernard is there! (YAY!)

Did I mention Bernard? (YAY!)

Reasons to NOT read Frostmas:

none

(i kid)

it is 1st person perspective and also features an oc prominently, so if either of those things aren't your thing, please disregard this long post and go about your midnight happily not reading 1st person or OCs

tho idk why anyone wouldn't like ocs

they're a whole bucket of fun!

[We here at SafyreSky Industries would like to give viewers and potential readers a warning about the Frostmas Effect, which may affect you if you choose to read. Frostmas is a bop, however, it is massively, massively long because our CEO, SafyreSky herself, is a slut for aesthetics and one chapter is always one year. The word count goes from 4-5k, to 8-10k, and suddenly 20-30k. Please use Frostmas wisely. We recommend frequent breaks. Please see a doctor if prolonged use of Frostmas keeps you up at night. We here at SafyreSky industries waive any and all responsibility to your emotional wellbeing after you embark on your reading journey. thank you for your time, be safe, and enjoy the descent into madness that is The Twelve Years of Frostmas.]

[applejuicefruit]

hey, could you do one of Oliver giroud, with an age difference ( reader 23/24 ) where the reader feels insecure about her relationship with Oliver, and thinks he is only with her for sex, one day she will leave and go get drunk, and when she comes home Oliver will try to take care of her and she will say she feels/or thinks he is only with her for sex, that when he gets tired of her he will leave her for someone else and other things, and then Oliver will comforting her and making sure she's the only one for him and that he's not just with her for sex, and they'll talk about it and in the end, everything works out (sorry if it's confusing)

I love Olivier please send me more requests!

Olivier Giroud x reader

Daddy issues

Doubts started filling your mind when you read all the comments on your recent post with Olivier. It was a simple selfie with a simple heart in the caption, nothing wrong you thought. But all the mean comments made you feel insecure of your relationship.

“He’s dating her only for the sex, he doesn’t really love her” someone said.

“I bet she’s good in bed” someone else said.

“Poor thing, she really thinks he loves her?” another one said. You’ve been only dating for a year and you remember when you started dating you both were on the cover of every gossip magazine in Italy. Mostly because you were only 23 and he was 36 so people assumed you were dating him just or fame and money but you really loved him, with all of your heart but of course, they don’t care about that.

So now you were contemplating whether staying at home and waiting for Olivier to come back home from training or texting your friends and asking them to go out and drink.

You opted for the second one, of course. So you called them and asking them to meet at your favorite club in one hour while you started getting ready and sent a quick text to Olivier telling him that you were out with your friends and that you will come home later in the night.

Once you got ready you called a taxi, knowing that probably you would be too drunk to come back home by yourself and waited for it to arrive.

You were wearing a short but not too short black silk dress with a pair of heels and your black leather jacket finishing your look. Nothing to eccessive but you wanted to feel comfortable with yourself, trying to shield away all the negative comments you’ve been reading all day that made you feel uncomfortable and insecure.

The taxi arrived and drove you to the club where you saw your friends waiting for you. Back into the club you all ordered a cocktail first, then a second one, then a third one, ending with your best friend buying a bottle of champagne for all of you and you offering two rounds of tequila shots. Three hours later and you were all completely waisted except one of your friends just because she didn’t like alcohol so she only got some pepsi for her. Olivier texted you how the night was going and if you needed him to pick you up but you simply sent him a “no, see u at home”. Before leaving the club you wanted to drink a little more so you got yourself a beer and got more that waisted. Your mind was spinning and if it wasn’t for your friend holding you up you would have collapsed.

“Okay y/n it’s time for you to get home…I’m gonna take you home okay? Let’s go” your friend said helping you in the car.

“No I don’t want Olivier to see me…he doesn’t love me, he will think I’m childish” you mumbled in your drunk state.

“What are you talking about? He loves you very much y/n…yeah maybe you’re a bit childish but that makes you, you…don’t worry about it okay? Let’s get you home so you’ll be with your lover” she joked about it but you were too drunk to even understand her words.

Once back home she helped you get in, Olivier hearing a car sound knew this was you so he opened the door and thanked your best friend for bringing you back home.

“Thank you” he smiled at her once you were sat on the couch.

“She’s drunk” your best friend said “and talking nonsense…take care of her please”.

“Of course…thank you for bringing her home, she sounded mad when I texted her earlier…” he told your best friend.

“No, not mad, just heavily drunk” she smiled at him and he laughed looking at your drunk figure sat on the couch.

“But really, thank you” he thanked her again and helped her out.

He came back sitting on the couch but you shoved him away.

“Baby are you okay?” he asked you softly.

“No. Why are you with me Olivier?” you asked him, not being able to control your emotions and letting the tears fall.

“What are you talking about y/n? I’m with you because I love you…why this question?” he softly asked you, hating to see you cry. He knelt in front of you while you were sat on the couch.

“Just admit you’re with me just for the sex…In the end you will leave me for a more mature woman, a woman who can give you children and a family because I’m too young for you and-and one day you will realise that I’m not the one you want and…” you mumbled in a very drink voice “…and you will look for someone else and that day will break my heart but I know it will happen, I mean…we have - I don’t remember right now” you started counting with your fingers “a thirteen year age gap and that’s a lot you know? I’m scared you’ll find someone better because it’s not that hard finding someone better than me…” you whispered the last part, telling him all of your doubts and fears. He smiled a bit watching how you mumbled those words mostly because you were drunk as hell but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty because he was the reason you were feeling that way.

“Y/n, mon amour…listen to me, I love you, and you are the only woman I want to have in my life okay? I don’t care if we have more than a ten year gap, I don’t care if you don’t want to have kids right now, I couldn’t care less, the only thing I care about is you…I love you, je t’aime…not for the sex, not because you’re young but because you’re you and I love you so much…” he said holding your hands and kissing the palm of them softly. He put one of his hands on your chin gently lifting it up so you could watch him in the eyes and see that he was telling you the truth.

“Princess why don’t we go to bed uh?” he asked you softly.

“Are you telling the truth?” you shyly asked him.

“Of course baby” he smiled at you “I would never lie to you, never…”

“Okay” you smiled back at him.

“Let me take care of you baby…” he helped removing your heels and gently carried you in your shared bedroom. He removed your leather jacket and your dress. You felt a bit vulnerable standing in front of him almost naked, not that he’s never seen you naked but in your drunken state you felt more exposed.

“You’re beautiful mon amour” he smiled at you kissing your cheek.

“Thank you” you mumbled.

He removed your bra and dressed you up in one of his clothes. Just a comfy sweater that was too big for you so you used it as a pajamas.

“Oli…” you whispered.

“Mh?” he looked at you.

“I think I have to throw up…” you rushed yourself to the toilet just in time before you let all your alcohol out.

Olivier held your hair and gently massaged your back, comforting you.

After you were done you washed your teeth while Olivier got you a glass of water.

“I’m sorry…” you said sitting on the bed.

“For what baby?” he apprehensively asked.

“For causing a scene…again…” you sobbed a little.

“You’re drunk baby, it’s fine, really, plus I don’t mind taking care of you mon amour, it’s my way to show you how much you mean to me…” he kissed your lips softly and helped you laying in bed.

Your head on his chest while his arms were wrapped around you and one of his hand was back on your hair gently stroking it. You fell asleep in a minute, too tired to even say goodnight.

“Goodnight mon amour” he whispered in your ear while he turned off the lights and held you close to his body so you could feel safe and protected.

[lizzie-is-here]

Hellooo I would like to request again bcs I thought of another one a Kate Bishop one shot 16. “don’t. fucking. touch. them.” where a guy was fliriting with you beside Kate and he doesn't know you and Kate r dating so Kate gets jealous and gets mad at him :) <3 Tysmm you have really great writing I really enjoy reading ur one shots this is Kate again cuz I'm obsessed with her if u can't tell ty again <3

follower event!

character: kate bishop x fem!reader

prompt: “don’t. fucking. touch. them.” (changed to her for this one because kate x fem!reader is my jam now. this girl radiates fruity)

warnings: alcohol, cussing, violence, harassment, gross men being gross, brief mentions of spiking drinks

a/n: ugh these are so enjoyable. honestly might consider keeping my requests open for a bit… 👀 if i do i’ll put up new rules so yeah. hope u all enjoy, love uuuuu <3

“Ah, they have Russian vodka, Kate Bishop!” Yelena’s thick accent carries through the bar, turning a few heads. The girl continues, ignoring the confused looks shot her way.

“My mother sent me a bottle a week ago, but this is so nice,” she says, sidling up to the bar. As she begins to lean over the counter and grab random bottles, Kate smiles apologetically at you.

She’s wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, a bit out of place in the dim bar, but you can’t fault her. Mainly because you’ll steal the sweatshirt later for bed.

“I’d better go… keep an eye on her,” she says. “I’ll be right, back, I swear.” You laugh and give her a thumbs-up, wandering to another section of the bar to order.

A sign catches your eye, listing some Christmas special cocktails. You squint in the low light as you read through each one.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender tosses her towel to the side. She nods to the sign. “The peppermint Bailey’s is pretty good.”

You smile. “Then I’ll take that.” As she whisks away to make your drink, you watch to ensure the drink stays in your sight. The bartender rims the glass with peppermint crumble as a final touch and sets it on the bar in front of you.

Taking it with a smile and tossing down some cash, you look around for Kate and Yelena. On the other side of the circular bar, you see the blonde reluctantly give up a bottle of vodka to another bartender.

You hurry over, sliding in next to Kate as she lightly scolds the Russian assassin.

“Boo,” you whisper, giggling when your girlfriend jumps at the sound. She clutches her chest in feigned hurt, all wide-eyed as she turns to you.

“I trusted you,” she gasps dramatically, before breaking out into a grin. She points to your glass. “Christmas-y.”

She has her own drink, a Tequila Sunrise from the look of it. “Yours isn’t,” you quip back, clinking your glass with hers. Yelena continues to hassle the bartender for a free bottle.

Just as the bartender sets his elbow on the counter and Yelena does the same, grasping his much larger hand on her own, a voice clears its throat from behind you.

“What’s a girl like you doing without anyone to dance with?” When you turn around, you’re met with a rather sleazy looking man. He’s in a button-down, with clean slacks and polished dress shoes. What man wears dress shoes to the bar?

You’re about to point to your girlfriend, but she’s busy filming what you suspect to be an arm-wrestling contest. The man takes your silence as an answer.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you. Hard not to,” he smirks, looking you up and down. Okay. Now you’re freaked out. “Wanna dance, sweet-cheeks?”

As you internally gag, because one: ew, men, and two: nasty pet names, he sidles up even closer. On instinct, you cover your drink.

“Oh, come on, baby, don’t be like that. Plus, I wouldn’t have to spike your drink to get you back to my place. I’ve been told I’m a very smooth talker.” He lowers his voice as he talks, as if sounding like he’s been smoking since infancy would make him attractive.

You scrunch your nose, scowling as intimidatingly as you can muster. “Well, go be a smooth-talker somewhere else. I’m not interested, sorry.”

He narrows his eyes. “What do you mean? I’m clearly rich, I’m better than any guy in this bar-“

“Ok, well, I have a girlfriend,” you interrupt, really hoping Kate will hear you. He scoffs.

Then, after taking an obnoxiously long slurp of his beer (third red flag), he belches. “Lesbians are sooo hot,” he slurs. You roll your eyes so hard it hurts, looking around for a way to get this guy away from you.

A small crowd has formed around Yelena and the bartender, but you can spy Kate’s ponytail through the throng. As you scoot away towards her, the asshole holds out a hand.

“Wait, wait, wait! Come on, you don’t have to lie and say you have a girlfriend. I promise, I’m a really nice guy. I never harass girls, I’m always a gentleman…” He goes on and on as you frantically glance at your girlfriend.

Eventually, she seems to feel your panicked gaze and looks over. She raises a brow at the very persistent problem rambling next to you and you look from him to her a few times, raising both brows in a silent message.

She casually sits down beside you, waiting and listening. You hold a hand up to the man.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but I was serious when I said I had a girlfriend, and she’s right-“ You turn to point to her, but the guy grabs your wrist, yanking you.

You tear your hand away, breath shaking as he stumbles a bit. Kate steps in front of you, glaring at him.

“Hey, asshat.” With a vicious kick to the shins, he doubles over. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch her,” she growls. You’re so busy swooning over Kate’s protectiveness you don’t even notice a loud thud and cheers from behind you.

As he stands up and begins to yell at her, you slip off your heels, setting one on your chair and grasping the other one in your hand.

“God, you’re such a fucking bitch! Women will never pick nice guys, will they? You’re all fucking horrible, you know that?” he snaps.

Kate raises a brow. “Aren’t you the one who just harassed my girlfriend after she told you, multiple times, that she wasn’t interested?” When he can’t come up with a counter argument, the man goes in for a punch.

But you were waiting.

When he rears back, you step in front of Kate as she dodges the poorly aimed blow, and swing your stiletto into his jaw.

You don’t hit very hard. You aren’t really trying to. The goal isn’t to break a bone, or even make him bleed, as much of an asshole he is.

Instead, you hit hard enough to leave a sizable bruise and send him stumbling back, before chugging your drink, swiping up your shoes, grabbing your now very flustered girlfriend by her hand, and beelining for the exit. But not before a blonde, Russian assassin hits the man with a hard-earned bottle of vodka.

[emyluwinter]

A little more Silver bullet.

author @jackplushie

Is it necessary for a bartender to have certain skills in order to "impress" his audience?Isn't it.

Imagine that the Bartender Yuu specially learned very cool tricks to work as bartenders earlier and somehow they have a very good experience.

Watch these couple of videos. You will definitely like it!

Criminals boys seeing the dexterous hands of the Bartender

- Wow…..◉_◉

For the most part, the Bartender Yuu show their skills to "free their head" from thoughts that they need to be on the alert all the time, in addition, it is a good distraction so that someone stops asking personal questions.

Yuu are already tired of erasing another tirade from the complaint book that they did not answer what their favorite shoe is or whether they wear different socks on odd numbers. And also a terrifying number of questions that the Bartender Yuu is already pretty tired of listening to.

Are they some kind of reference for you?!?

And the bartender Yuu very famously opens corks and bottle caps. Often using them as a "small" or direct warning that someone should stop and see the limit of what is allowed.

The Heartslabyul gang were the very first "viewers" when Yuu were in a very very very crappy mood and one of the groups in the bar hall still did not try to calm down their conflict.

Very famously and with a sharp movement knocking off the lids of two bottles, Yuu got next to the people arranging the conflict and quarrel. The shadow on the Bartender's face gave a clear warning that they would no longer be so "condescending" if they didn't stop.

-G e n t l e m e n…should I remind you that your fist dancing is not welcome here? After exchanging glances, the men swallowed nervously and very slowly sat back down in their seats. Like two ashamed puppies.

After finishing his work with the drink, Yuu puts a cocktail glass in front of Riddle

- Your cocktail "Blush roses" mister, with strawberry liqueur om as you requested.

Riddle is delighted as a child looks at the glass and then looks at the hands of the bartender Yuu.His face is ruddy with awe and adoration. - You have…amazing skills…

Thank you sir. So, have the others already chosen?

Ace chuckles softly as he looks at Riddle

- the Leader is even redder than his drink. Just like a girl in front of her lover.. Trey shushed him softly.

Riddle suddenly blurted out a question trying to keep the attention of the Bartender Yuu - ah…u..How do you feel about hedgehogs?!

The bartender Yu looks at the drink with a puzzled expression and then at Riddle

- Sir, should I have made a lighter drink?You haven't even had a sip and you've already been carried away…

Ace had to bite his fist to keep from laughing and being shot on the spot. Cater was quietly snorting with laughter along with Trey. But Deuce didn't quite get the joke right away.

***

Azul sees Yuu's skills and quietly whispers curses. - Damn you….I want to steal this bartender Jade grinned - I don't think they'll appreciate this act. Floyd - but effective…

Jade taking a photo of a mushroom made of ice by "request" in her cocktail - you have such elegant wrists and ankles Yuu~

Meanwhile, the bartender Yuu is preparing another drink, throwing his phrase like a weather news report. - Mister, if you say again that "ankles would look great thrown back on your shoulders", I will pour you only anise with licorice and a mound of salt.

Azul gasps at the words of the Bartender and blushes thinking about something "his"

Floyd imagined the taste and immediately frowned - some kind of crappy tequila comes out…

[tortoisebore]

I just saw your post abt chapter 8 so naturally i have to ask what kind of drunk are the marauders? (Ex: Happy drunk, sad drunk, horny drunk etc..)

i’m finally starting to get caught up on these again eeeeeeeeeeeeeee i love this one 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 (just doing remus & sirius or else this would be 5,000 words)

i feel like everyone has four phases of drunk. and every kind of drunk is different like wine drunk does not equal tequila drunk but for consistency’s sake let’s say this is a typical night out, we’re ordering an uber bc we’re all planning on getting fully drunk tn, we’re doing cocktails, we’re having fun

sirius is a party girl & has a pretty decent tolerance but once the third drink hits he’s on a downward spiral. he starts off very excitable—he’s happy to be here, he’s happy you’re here, he’s happy there’s a drink in everyone’s hand. phase two is the dancey phase. if the music is bad he’s just doing a little shimmy at the bar but if it’s good he’s physically dragging ppl onto the dance floor. if there’s not a dance floor he’s making one. remus hasn’t had anywhere close to enough to drink to dance by the time sirius is this phase of drunk so when sirius makes a beeline for him and pulls at his arm he’s all “oh my god sirius stop i’m not going to dance fuck off you’re so embarrassing” but sirius is like “SORRY CANT HEAR U OVER ALL THIS DANCING 🕺🕺🕺 GET UR ASS UP RN 💃💃💃” and sometimes remus gives in then but sometimes he has to be deeper into his own drunk journey to get anywhere near a dance floor.

sirius’ phase 3 is horny bc everyone has a horny phase when they’re drunk. this phase starts at the tail end of his fourth drink—he’s at the bar & takes that last little sip out of the tiny cocktail straw and then he’s getting tunnel vision going “remus remus remus where’s remus oh my god look at him he’s so fuckidnf sexy how does he do it get a load of that sweater holy shit 🫦👹👺🤭😛🥰 hot damn that’s my bb 🤩🥵😳🫠🥴😋.” and remus is only on his second phase of drunk right now & they’re rarely at their own respective horny phases at the same so sirius’ advances are brushed off a bit. like he’s sliding in behind remus & sticking his hands up his shirt and whispering all sorts of shit into his ear like “c’mon let’s go to the bathroom” and “wanna make u feel good” and “i’ll do anything u want pls pls pls need u so bad pls” but remus is very much not on the same planet and he’s like “we’re not gonna fuck in the bathroom u beautiful silly goose!! 😄 that’s crazy!! 😁 omg 😍 ur so so pretty!! 😄 ur my bf & we’re in love 🥰 can u believe it!!”

and sirius is pouty about it for a minute but by the time he finishes his next drink he’s officially in phase four which is the “life is so beautiful i love u all so much” phase. about 50% of the time this involves crying and the other 50% it involves going around the room hanging off everyone’s arm & giving a speech about “you’re all just my favorite people i can’t believe i get to know u all you’re so beautiful i love my life.” and by this point remus is in deep enough to give in when sirius throws himself into his arms and gives him a little smile & says “☺️ do u wanna dance w me 🙂🥰” so they have a song and a dance or four or five before it’s time to go home.

remus’ four phases of drunk are a little more subdued. phase one is the loosey goosey phase, he’s relaxed and not thinking ab all the things that are stressing him out and he’s less snippy after a couple drinks. but phase two is the loud talking phase. he’s feeling good he’s feeling chatty. he wants to tell u in depth all about this documentary he saw the other day about ancient global architecture designed around the summer solstice. he’s gesturing with his hands and his eyes are all big and he’s talking way too fucking loud. like…… way too fucking loud. people are starting to look over remus pls can u lower ur voice just a little this is getting weird

phase three is an extension of phase two. he’s still feeling good feeling chatty but now he’s getting all sappy and sweet and giddy. he’s looking at sirius across the room like 🤩❤️🫶💕🥹🥰💓😘💞✨😍💖💓 and going “oh my god……oh my god. look at him. stunning” and sighing and waxing poetic to whoever’s next to him but there’s a 75% chance that it’s just a stranger at the bar. and then sirius comes over and he’s throwing himself all over remus going “need u so bad bby can we go home” and “i’m wearing that thing u like under here wanna see” but remus is too starry-eyed to take him up on it. like he’s not even rly listening bc he's too busy touching sirius’ face and watching the clips in his hair sparkle under the lights to do anything but gasp and ooh and ahh and be like “wow!! wow!! look!! at you!! oh!! my god!!”

but one more drink in and he’s officially entered his final horny phase, which is definitely less in-your-face than sirius’ but it’s about a hundred times more intense. normally sirius has simmered down a bit by the time remus’ phase four rolls around, but now remus is in deep enough to watch him a little more intently. like he’s giving less 🥰🤩💞✨😍💕 and more 😶🤤😵‍💫🥴🥵😏. and he’s not going to do much other than stare until they’re home (bc he’s absolutely not afraid of some pda but he’s possessive down to his bones & doesn’t want to risk anyone else watching sirius like that) and he always says he’s going to play it cool & keep them both in line until they’re out of there, but a few more sips of the right kind of liquor and it’s game over. so when sirius asks him to dance they’re 100% doing more touching and ogling and grinding than actual dancing bc the second remus gets his hands on sirius’ skin it’s lights out for his big ole brain, he’s running on caveman brain cells & caveman brain cells are just saying “pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty”

they’re probably getting kicked out of the club/bar eventually but like good for them go gays go !!

[ewitsren]

HELLO MAY I REQUEST BAJI AND CHIFUYU WEDDING HEADCANONS?? how would they propose, what kind of wedding would u most likely have with them, how would domestic life be with them etcc tysmmmm!!

wedding w chifuyu, baji !!

pairings: matsuno chifuyu x reader, baji keisuke x reader

cw/tws ⚠️: fluff, mentions of food and alcohol, kissing

requested: yes

barrista's note ☕: THIS IS SO CUTE?? I WANNA DO A MITSUYA AND HAKKAI VERSION *SOBS*

#CHIFUYU

now, chifuyu has it all planned and it's like one of the most simple-romantic ways you can ever think of!

he had prepared a cozy space for you two on the roof with blankets, chinese takeout and some wine. so he took you on the roof after a relaxing, warm bath and you guys stargazed until late at night. chifuyu pressed his lips against yours as you laid with your head on his lap, watching the stars silently, before reaching for the ring in his pocket. he smiled, keeping the ring on the edge of his pinky and twirling it.

"i really thought a lot about what to say right now but looking at the way words are slipping out of my mouth so easily like this when you're in front of me, i guess i didn't have to." chifuyu chuckled. "i don't want a future if you won't be there to live it with me. i want you to be a part of every second of it; i want you, no, i need you to be with me for the rest of my life. so, marry me?"

the wedding venue is a restaurant with ocean view! you guys say your vovs and kiss each other as the sun sets, to the accompaniment of the sound of waves hitting the shoreline

guestlist includes toman boys (mikey, draken, mitsuya, baji, hakkai, kawata twins, peh-yan, pah-chin and takemichi), your friends and families (only if you want them there ofc)

HIS BESTMAN IS BAJI!

wedding menu consists italian food and cocktails alongside a big strawberry cake (it's chifuyu's favourite fite me if u think otherwise akdgksgdjx)

he looks at you with all the love in the word in his eyes as you read your vov ♡

after party with toman crew is so fun!! after the rest of the guest leave y'all play hide and seek in the big restaurant and get wasted, baji tears up after so many cocktails about how happy he is for chifuyu and he'll always always have you two's backs.

domestic life with chifuyu is so peaceful 😭

you guys would most likely get a pet

he prepares breakfast when he wakes up before you and you guys share the chores! chifuyu lets you choose the chores you want </3

but grocery shopping is always a 2 man job bcos chifuyu loves doing it with you! he puts you in the grocery cart and pushes it around the whole time ♡

chifuyu takes all the burden on himself if you ever need a break, he takes care of everything and makes sure you're resting well

#BAJI

baji thought a lot about this but the best he got was... to put the ring in your yakisoba...

so he knocked the heads together with his mom and chifuyu and tried to give it his best shot

so you guys were on an arcade date and baji had shown you a little box before going in, saying that he had a surpise for you but you had to beat him at 3 games if you wanted to find out what it was. after you beat him, he took you to the local yakisoba restaurant where you had your first date; choosing the exact same table and food. baji watched you with a soft expression on his face as you ate, and he just suddenly blurted it out.

"wanna marry me?" baji smiled as he held your hand and played with your fingers while reaching for the ring with his free hand. "i just, you know... i wanna be with you, always and... and i wanna fall asleep next to you, i wanna do grocery shopping with you..."

wanting to do something rather cute for the first time in his life, baji finds a wedding venue kind of like an outdoor botanical garden

guestlist is the same with chifuyu's, menu consists of traditional japanese food (drinks are probably heavier than the ones chifuyu chose, like whiskey, tequila etc)

AND HIS BESTMEN ARE CHIFUYU, MIKEY, DRAKEN, KAZU

his heart's about to explode when he sees you walking towards him in a gorgeous wedding dress, he literally forgets to breathe

HE RENTS A YATCH FOR AFTER PARTY WITH TOMAN CREW AND IT'S SO CHAOTIC

everyone's drunk; baji throws you in the sea and jumps in after you, chifuyu is crying, mikey wants to catch fish, draken is babysitting...

domestic life with baji can be tiring sometimes, he definitely doesn't wanna have anything to do with chores but you guys manage to split the tasks eventually

grocery shopping is a 2 man task just like the one with chifuyu bcos baji forgets what he has to buy and loses the list so...

you guys do a lot of movie marathons (harry potter, lotr, tmr etc baji is a big movie geek change my mind lol)

well, good luck spending the rest of your life with him. i love him sm but he's gonna get you two into lotta trouble <3

@ewitsren 's work, do not translate/repost on other apps and platforms.

[fercnmi]

what drinks the gang like and how they act

darry: he's basic bro, but when he does he'll drink beer??? but his go to is whiskey. he has a high enough alcohol tolerance but again, barely drinks. he's also a wine mom

he's a quiet drunk and tends to stick to those who he knows, however, he does get pretty affectionate and ends up ranting ab how much he loves the gang

soda: again a beer dude, he likes to experiment with drinks which ends up 9/10 times, with him bent over the toilet at ungodly times in the morning. medium alcohol tolerance. loves doing shots but only if they have vibrant colours

happy and loud drunk. this is HIS time to SHINE. at some point during the night he will end up dancing or singing, even if there's no music

pony: his go to is pepsi and vodka, which is really on brand for him. he is not against beer but that's not his go to. HE DOWNS SHOTS LIKE NO TOMORROW. its acc really weird bc when drinking vodka or downing shots?? bro could go for hours but u bring any other alcohol to the table? game over

he's every fucking type of drunk. like mf, will cycle through every type of drunk in one night. has absolutely horrible hangovers. looks like he's dying when it happens. he's so fucking funny tho

dally: absolutely no doubt, a vodka, tequila n liquor dude. will drink for hours and will only be slightly tipsy. does shots and will only wince when no one's looking. literally give him any drink and he'll be ok. ends up smoking with pony by the end of the night (but he's just holding up pony while they pass a cig back and forth)

angry and reckless drunk lmao. also very sloppy and ends up being the star of many shaky videos

steve: oh boy, this mf LOVES beer but ADORES absinthe, rum and whiskey. definitely high alcohol tolerance, manages to drink for hours. however, whenever he drinks, he blushes HEAVILY.

is pretty chill drunk but some nights he sees violence and chaos as the only option.

johnny: he's definitely a fan of sake n sambuca. will occasionally have colourful cocktails with fruits. really likes drinks that have flavour to them. drinks rarely but drinks for fun not to get drunk, if u get what i mean.

hiccups sm when he's drunk and if possible manages to get even quieter, laughs at most things twobit says no matter how stupid.

twobit: im just gonna leave this here. i think we all know.

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Visions of sugarplums

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x female reader

Content: Pining, workplace romance, fake dating if you squint, oh no we’re snowed in, mention of food, kissing, making out, mostly-non-explicit sex (under-18s, jog on), so many sweet pet names you’ll get cavities, romantic Jack because apparently I'm a sucker for that

Word count: ~4800 (yeah. Jack is a demanding muse)

Prompt: “Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last” (Let Her Go, Passenger), for @yespolkadotkitty‘s follower celebration writing challenge 🎉

Note: I said canon Whiskey who? This cowboy drinks respect women juice.

Part two: Kentucky welcome Part three: Just say you will

Taglist (if you’d like to be tagged, un-tagged, or make a request for future fics, feel free to let me know): @writemessystarwars @keeper0fthestars @flightlessangelwings @yespolkadotkitty @emesispo @songsformonkeys @beccaplaying

-----------------------------

A whirl of snow stings your cheek like a slap as you hurry through the grounds of the posh ski resort that sprawls across the valley, dotted with cozy cabins and million-dollar chalets.

Your sheer stockings, low-cut dress, and teetering heels are no match for snow bursts and the wind that cuts through you like a  knife. Inwardly cursing your alter ego and her penchant for skimpy fashions, you tug your thin coat more tightly around you.

This mission was supposed to be a piece of cake. A few days at a luxe resort, posing with your partner as an arms dealer and his girlfriend to get close to your target, and everything was going swimmingly...until your search of the target’s study during a cocktail party was interrupted by two of his security staff making their rounds ahead of schedule. The adrenaline rush of your narrow escape is still humming in your veins.

Beside you, long strides making quick work of the path, Jack Daniels has transformed himself from intelligence agent to wealthy gun runner with the world on a string. The cashmere overcoat that cost more than your first car is the perfect finishing touch to his sharp suit, and his dark good looks stand out even in the hazy moonlight.

Rounding the corner of a chalet, Jack slows his steps to a stroll. A strong arm pulls you flush against his side as he walks, letting an easy laugh float on the wind like you’ve said something witty. Before you have time to wonder what’s going on, another couple materializes in the pool of light from a lamp, squinting against the gusts that throw fresh powder into the air like confetti.

“Evening,” Jack says with a tip of his hat and a winning  smile, the very picture of a genial Southern gentleman. “This weather sure is pickin’ up, ain’t it?”

The couple mutter their agreement  and hurry on their way. Once they’re out of sight Jack’s hand slides to the small of your back, guiding you as you both quicken your strides again. Your teeth are chattering by the time the wind blows you onto the porch of your own cabin, and in a fumble of hands on the doorknob you step together into the blessed stillness of the spacious room.

A  cheerful whistle pierces the air and you turn to find Jack brushing snow off of his black Stetson and favoring you with a lopsided smirk. Even damp with melting snow he manages to be striking, all sultry eyes and dashing mustache and wayward strands of dark hair curling over his  forehead.

“Nothin’ like a little skirmish to get the blood pumping.” He carefully sets the hat on the fireplace mantel to dry. “I feel like...”

“...A tornado in a trailer park,” you finish with him, earning one of those wide, dimpled grins that always dazzles you a little in return.

“Just so,” he says.

“That’s another one in the ‘win’ column.” You try to suppress a shiver as you pull the flash drive that might as well be a smoking gun from the cleavage of your dress. “A few bumps in the road, but we got what we needed.”

Jack ignores the congratulations, stepping close to take your chilled hands between his large ones. His hands aren’t much warmer than yours, but the thrill that trickles down your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

The frown lines between his brows deepen. “Darlin’, you’re colder than a well-digger’s belt buckle. Go on and have yourself a hot shower while I get a fire started and check in with HQ.”

“I can wait, I’ll help you,” you offer.

He shakes his head, already moving toward the fireplace. “Don’t you worry, sugarplum, ol’ Jack’ll have this place snug in no time. You just get comfortable.”

Helpless against the lure of hot water and fuzzy socks, you rummage in your suitcase for a change of clothes. Still, you stop at the bathroom door to look back at Jack where he’s stacking logs with the same determination furrowing his brow as when he’s reviewing dossiers or cleaning his guns.

The two of you have been almost inseparable for the year that you’ve been working for the Statesman agency. Even your code name was assigned with your partnership in mind, a little inside joke Champ never gets tired of telling when he introduces the two best agents in the New York office: “...Because you can’t have a Manhattan without Whiskey and Vermouth!”

Jack comes on as strong as his namesake liquor, but you’ve seen the  steely nature under his flashy Southern charm, the practice behind the effortless shows of skill, the tender heart he hides with bravado.

And he has no idea you’ve fallen in love with him.

As though he can feel your gaze, Jack looks up, his stern expression relaxing. He gives you a wink and waves one hand to shoo you along before getting back to his task.

With a sheepish smile, you duck into the bathroom and turn on the shower before you can do something stupid.

Like asking him to join you.

***

"Mission report, Agent?”

Champ’s projection flickers into the armchair across from Jack, looking like some kind of Halloween effect with the flames dancing over the logs in the fireplace behind him.

“We’ve got all the intel we need.” Jack adjusts his glasses, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. “Agents ready for pickup.”

“Glad to hear it. Where’s Vermouth?”

Jack glances toward the sound of running water. “She’s just showerin’ to warm up. We got caught in a snow flurry coming back to the cabin.”

“That so?” The ghost of a smile flits over Champ’s face. “I thought you’d want to be the one warmin’ her up.”

Jack’s not sure if he’s more annoyed by the teasing, or how quick he is to take the bait. “Champ, this ain’t a Fourth of July picnic. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m on a delicate mission with my partner.”

“Now, don’t get your feathers ruffled, son,” Champ says mildly, reaching for a highball glass. “You confided in me about your feelings, and I’m just givin’ you a little nudge of encouragement.”

“I did not confide in you.” Jack leans forward to jab a finger at the hazy image of his boss. “You tested Ginger’s new truth serum on me.”

Champ’s grin is distinctly unrepentant. “Well, you looked like a man who needed to get somethin’ off his chest. ‘Sides, I won twenty bucks from Tequila for being right.”

Jack only grunts, slumping on the couch again. “Your granny’s special mint julep recipe, my ass.”

“Jack, she’s a pretty girl. Smart as that whip of yours. You think you’ll be the only one to notice? Anybody can see Vermouth thinks the world of you, but one of these days she’ll be wearin’ another man’s ring if you don’t stop pussyfooting around and make good on all that flirtin’ you do.”

That idea settles in Jack’s stomach like a bad oyster.

Of course, Champ has a point.

You are pretty. No, scratch that...beautiful. You’re a hell of a good agent -- the quickest route to Jack’s bad side is to suggest otherwise -- but you’re so much more than that. Your sweetness and spirit are more than a man like him can hope to deserve, but damn if the way your eyes light up when you smile doesn’t thaw something long dormant in his chest.

If he’s been hell-bent on keeping things professional between you, his dreams are anything but. When he closes his eyes he sees you, soft and yearning and his. His to have and hold until he wakes up aching, with your phantom touch lingering on his skin.

He’s starting to forget why professionalism was so important to him in the first place.

“Champ, you got anything else related to this mission? Been a long day here.”

“Matter of fact, I do.” Thankfully, Champ has the grace to go along with the change of subject. “That storm’s kickin’ up too much snow to get a jet in there. You’ll have to hunker down and wait for a pickup in the morning.”

Well, if the universe wants to hand Jack another night in your company, who is he to argue?

“Copy that,” he says out loud. “We’ll await contact in the morning.”

Champ smiles. “Plenty of time for any long-overdue conversations you might want to have.”

“You’re startin’ to break up. Whiskey out.” Jack pulls off the glasses and tosses them unceremoniously onto the coffee table, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Sparing a glance at the darkening sky outside the window, he hauls himself off of the couch to put another log on the fire, trying not to think about how Champ just might be right.

***

When you emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, Jack is lounging on the couch in front of a crackling fire. He’s traded the designer clothes for jeans and a faded button-down shirt and managed to tame his tousled hair. You know he takes pride in his trademark hat and bespoke suit jackets, but there’s something about him when he’s dressed down and softer around the edges that tugs at your heart.

He looks up when you come into the room, cheek dimpling with a smile. “Well, don’t you look like a new woman? Thought you were fixin’ to turn into an icicle on me for a minute, there.”

“Here’s hoping our next assignment involves sandy beaches and umbrella drinks.” You hug your sweater around yourself. “What’s the word from Champ?”

“Looks like we’re here for the night on account of this storm.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind rattles the windows, making you jump.

“Come and have a seat by the fire, sweetheart.” Jack picks something up from the coffee table and waves it at you. “Got a protein bar and some water for you. I don’t know about you, but a handful of damn canapes ain’t going to see me through to morning.”

“You sure know how to wine and dine a girl, cowboy,” you tease, dropping onto the couch.

His laugh is as good-natured as ever. “When we get back home, I’ll cook you the best steak you’ve ever had.”

“The best steak since the last one you cooked for me?"

“Well, a man should always be improvin’ his technique to keep a woman happy.” His dark eyes twinkle with mischief, and you roll your eyes but can’t quite smother a laugh.

The protein bar tastes something like chocolate-flavored chalk but you’re hungry enough to make quick work of it, washing it down with gulps of water. Jack nudges your shoulder and you find him offering his flask with a wry smile.

“’Fraid it’s all I've got in the way of dessert.”

The whiskey inside burns its way down your throat and mellows to spread its warm glow through your chest. With a sigh, you hand back the flask, watching Jack’s throat ripple with the swig he takes before reattaching it to his belt.

The liquor’s fire contrasts with the chill of the day in your bones, setting off a shiver that shudders through your shoulders and arms.

“Honey, you still cold?” Jack’s voice is rough-edged with weariness and whiskey.

“Well, I like a nice walk in the snow as much as the next girl, but I was half naked in that ridiculous outfit,” you say dryly.

One corner of his mouth quirks upward. There’s something unreadable in those fathomless eyes as he watches you for a moment before opening one arm, arching a brow in invitation.

Some tiny, winged creature takes up residence in your chest where your heart should be, and you immediately scold yourself. Jack’s your partner and your friend. Of course he has the decency not to want to see you miserable after a long, cold day.

So you tell yourself, even as you go to him, nestling into his side and letting his arm come around you to hold you close. His hand is relaxed on your shoulder, his thumb trailing back and forth in a gentle rhythm.

“Better?” he murmurs.

You feel like home, you think.

“Better.”

With Jack’s heartbeat steadfast and comforting under your palm, the last of your reserve dissolves. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and melt into his warmth, breathe in his scent, musky and tinged with leather and sandalwood.

Quiet descends on the room, fleece-soft and a little sleepy, as you stare into the fire and let your mind wander. The hypnotic trace of Jack’s thumb over your shoulder is the only indication that he’s still awake.

You sneak a look at him. His eyes glitter black in the gathering dark and his profile is regal, carved into the stern dips and hollows of a Roman sculpture by the play of light and shadow from the fire.

He’s beautiful. You wonder if anyone’s ever told him.

“Jack?”

He hums in answer, almost the purr of a contented cat.

“Do you ever think about retiring?”

A soft snort of laughter rumbles against you. “You callin’ me old?”

“We both know I’d punch anyone who did,” you scold, giving his chest a playful swat. “I just mean...do you ever imagine doing something else? Something more peaceful?”

“Well, I’ve got a patch of land in Kentucky with a farmhouse. One day I suppose I’ll give up the apartment in the city and trade the Silver Pony in for a ridin’ mower.”

You frown. It’s a jarring reminder that after all this time, Jack still has his secrets. “You do?”

He nods. “It’s been in my family for generations, my granddaddy left it to me. Always thought I’d raise a family there. Houseful of kids, dogs, the whole nine yards,” he says ruefully.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he never did.

The tragic loss of Jack’s wife and unborn son is no secret in the agency, and you might know better than anyone about the hole they left in his life. It’s always broken your heart for him, but the idea of this family home that sits empty but for his ghosts makes it suddenly, achingly easy to imagine Jack building a cradle in the barn and reading bedtime stories and teaching little ones to ride their first horses.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” you offer. “You never know.”

He squeezes your shoulder for an instant, a silent recognition of your kindness, before going on with a breezy sigh. “What about you? You fixin’ to go plant yourself by a pool somewhere with a fancy drink in one hand and a book in the other?”

“What, and not get to play fake criminals at cocktail parties with you?” you scoff. “Not a chance.”

His smile is sharp and sweet as molasses. “Well, I'm always happy to escort the most beautiful woman in the room.”

There’s something so plain and sincere about the sentiment that you’re taken aback.

Jack throws around compliments like other people talk about the weather. But you know when he’s just greasing the wheels of conversation, filling the space between words...and this isn’t it.

Ignoring the rush of heat into your cheeks, you default to the safety of humor. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Agent Whiskey.”

The smirk, the laugh, the sly innuendo you’re expecting don’t come. He shifts to look at you, so close and so handsome it hurts, and the naked admiration in his eyes makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Ain’t flattery, sugarplum.” His thumb travels fleetingly to the bare skin of your neck above the collar of your sweater. “You’re as pretty as a Kentucky sunrise and twice as bright, and that’s the truth.”

“Jack, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me...that anyone’s ever said to me,” you blurt out, and mean it.

His dimple deepens, and a dash of his usual devilish charm flashes across his face. “Well, if we’re bein’ honest with each other, I must confess to thinkin’ lots of complimentary things about you.”

You can barely hear him over the hammering of your heart.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls. The flicker of his glance to your lips is so quick, you could almost miss it.

But you don’t.

Maybe it’s the whiskey, maybe it’s the wind wailing in the eaves, maybe it’s the thrill of almost being caught by the bad guys, but something prods you on, dares you to play with fire. Your hand shifts almost imperceptibly on his chest, letting the tip of one finger find the warm, tanned skin at the open neck of his shirt.

“And what are you thinking right now?”

Something hot and swaggering flares in his eyes and you know, you know he’s picked up your gauntlet.

“Well, sweetheart...” His hand moves from your shoulder, trailing lazily to the nape of your neck. He tilts his head to watch goosebumps erupt in the wake of his touch before turning that smoldering gaze on your face again. “Right now I’m wonderin’ what you’d say if I were to kiss that pretty mouth.”

“I’d probably ask what took you so long.”

You barely finish the sentence before his hands cradle your face and his lips are on yours, stealing your breath with their plush softness.

Nothing in your experience of lukewarm flirtations and flaky boyfriends has prepared you for Jack’s affections. He’s a force of nature, possessive and generous by turns, and his approving hum when you open for him and the hot slide of his tongue against yours have you clinging to him like you’ll drown if you let go.

It’s only when you’re nearly dizzy that you break away for air. “Jack,” you whisper, sinking a novel of emotions into one syllable.

His lips brush your forehead. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. My beautiful girl.”

“I’ve always been your girl, Jack.” You rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes against the glaring, shimmering audacity of the words. “I love you.”

The exhale that fans over your cheek is your name. Your real name, the one thing he almost never calls you. His hand is gentle, tilting your chin up. “Look at me.”

You gather the nerve to lift your eyes to his, only to find them soft. Happy.

“Honey, I love you.” His dimple makes an appearance with an apologetic smile. “Hell, I was smitten from the first handshake. But you were a new agent, and things were workin’ out so well, I never wanted to upset the applecart by tellin’ you so.”

Your laugh is breathless with relief. “Well, then,” you say, toying with the button that stands between you and his bare chest. “I guess we’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” With the agility of his training, he hooks one hand around the back of your knee and the other around your waist and moves you to straddle his lap. His big hands splay across your back to pull you snugly against him as he traces the line of your jaw with his nose. “Now where were we, darlin’?”

Your head is spinning with the nuzzling of his nose over your pulse point and the broad warmth of his chest pressed to yours and the growing hardness under the tight denim of his jeans.

“You were--” You break off in a gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck. “You were kissing me better than anyone else ever has.”

“Baby, I’m gonna make you forget about ever kissin’ anybody else.”

You don’t bother telling him you’re way ahead of him.

Jack’s hair is soft and thick when you weave your fingers into it like you’ve always wanted to, stroking where it hints at curling at the nape. When your hand slips under his collar to shape the strong column of  his neck, caress the vulnerable skin under his jaw where his pulse is thundering in time with yours, the low growl in his throat sends heat spiraling straight to your core.

He surges up to capture your mouth again, a hot, demanding crush of lips and tongues that makes you move restlessly against him, wanting more. He doesn’t miss it, and when he slides one hand to your lower back to press you even closer on his muscled thighs every nerve in your body lights up.

“I want you, Jack,” you plead between kisses. “Need you.”

His hands slide underneath your sweater and come to rest, warm and calloused, on the soft skin over your ribs. When you least expect it, he gentles the kiss into something almost chaste and when he pulls away, just enough to look into your face, his eyes have gone solemn.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart. I will.”

You could burst with love for this man.

“I’ll strangle you with your own lasso if you do.”

Jack barks out a surprised laugh, lighting up with a grin before he goes in for another kiss. “Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.” His voice is silky against your lips. “Gonna give you everything you need.”

His hands move, bringing your sweater with them to whisk it over your head, and you feel the weight of his appreciative gaze roving over your bare skin and sheer bra.

“I can’t remember when I’ve seen anything so gorgeous.” His hands are back at your sides, fingertips teasing at the edges of the purple lace that leaves little to the imagination. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re blown dark and deep with desire. “And I reckon you’d look even prettier spread out for me on that big bed.”

That’s all it takes to have you scrambling to your feet, shimmying out of your leggings and socks as you cover the handful of steps to the luxurious bed that faces the fireplace. You reach for the clasp of your bra, but a click of Jack’s tongue halts your movement.

“Slow down, there, honey.” There’s a hint of command bleeding into his voice that you know well from missions, the sound of him giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed that always kindles a flame in you. “Let your man unwrap his gift.”

A blush warms your cheeks and trickles down your neck as you drop your hands to your sides and wait for him beside the bed, anticipation tingling in your limbs.

Jack has beautiful hands, as graceful as they are strong, but they’ve never been so mesmerizing as they are now, making quick work of his shirt’s buttons and carelessly shedding it to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before -- it’s hardly avoidable when you spend most of your lives together -- but never like this. Never when you’re openly staring at his broad shoulders and lean waist and the smooth planes of his chest, all bronzed in the glow of firelight. And certainly never when he’s calling himself your man and looking at you like he’s starving and you’re his favorite meal.

His arms slide around your waist and the heated press of his skin against yours tears a soft whimper from your throat. He catches it with his mouth, blends it with his own hum of satisfaction in a searing kiss.

He keeps his lips on yours even as he eases you back onto the bed, laying you down on the fluffy comforter with his hand cradling the back of your head. He stands again for as long as it takes to shuck off his jeans and kick them away before he’s crawling over you, settling his warm weight over your body and into your welcoming arms. You’re so swept up in the kiss that reunites you that you barely notice the skillful flick of his fingers that frees you from your bra...until he bends his hot mouth to your breasts and lightning spikes through your veins.

“So perfect,” he praises against your tender skin. “So good for me.”

He’s perfect. Even more than you’ve imagined on the lonely nights when you give yourself over to fantasies just like this, of Jack pressing you into a mattress and murmuring sweet sentiments in that liquor-and-honey voice while his clever hands find you more than ready for him.

A whine escapes you when the cool air of the room suddenly replaces the heat of his body, leaving you bereft.

“Don’t you worry, honey.” Jack’s voice drops an octave, even as a smirk coaxes his dimple out of hiding. “I said I’d take care of you.”

Warm hands slide your panties down your legs and off, and he strips off his own boxers to come back to you in all his naked glory.

His strong biceps cage you in and his mouth finds yours again as your hands roam greedily over golden skin and taut muscles and the hot, hard length between you.

“Jack, you’re so beautiful,” you sigh, over his panting breaths into your neck. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you, for so long.”

He raises his head to look at you, lush lips parted and eyes blazing. “Honey, you’ve got me. For as long as you’ll have me.”

He kisses you like he’s sealing a promise.

And then he’s inside you, like he belongs there. Maybe he always has.

Every surge of his body, every stroke of his hands, every gritted curse and word of praise pressed to your skin makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you’re clutching blindly at his back and keening his name like an incantation, his voice is a desperate rasp in your ear.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.”

You do. And he does.

And when he grips bruises into your thigh and shudders in your arms and buries a broken declaration of love in your hair, you know beyond a doubt there will never be anyone else.

***

If there’s a heaven, Jack’s pretty sure he's died and gone there to be lying in a cloud of down comforters with you tucked close to his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and legs tangled with his own. The bare skin of your back is petal-soft under his stroking fingers as he watches the firelight dance on the ceiling.

“I love you, Jack,” you murmur, and his heart swells too big for the prison bars of his ribs.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He laces his fingers with yours on his chest, brings them to his lips. “You know, I dreamed about this,” he confesses.

You raise your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. “You did?”

“I did. Felt a little guilty about it, if I’m bein’ honest, but I don’t guess I could help it.”

“I won’t hold it against you.” Your eyes sparkle at him in the dim light. “Did I live up to your dreams?”

He smiles, sweeping a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Oh, honey, they couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.”

You look pleased with that answer, nuzzling a kiss into his neck before settling your head on his shoulder again.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” he muses. “Have you in my own bed.”

He feels you smile against his skin. “As many nights as you want, cowboy.”

“Careful, there. I might take you at your word, you’ll go home and find movers at your place.”

You sigh out a laugh that’s music to his ears and draw idle shapes on his skin with your fingertips in the quiet.

“Jack,” you say again, soft as a peach blossom.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Will you take me to that farmhouse sometime?”

His greedy heart can already see you there, breathing life into the place.

You, perched on the kitchen counter, feet swinging in time with your chatter while he cooks for you. Sitting with him on the porch swing to watch the sunset splash its tapestry of pink and orange and lavender across the sky. Soft and sweet underneath him in the big cherry wood bed, greeting the pale glow of morning with sleepy eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

A backyard wedding.

Tiny, mewling cries in the night and your silhouette framed with moonlight from the picture window while you nurse a baby who has Jack’s eyes back to sleep.

The peace that washes over him is too good to be true, too hopeful for his battered heart, too honest for his life of compromises.

He closes his eyes, drinks it in anyway. Claims it. Squeezes you a little closer in his arms.

This is the dream that lasts.

“That’s a promise, sugarplum.”

[zotlel]

Fall Into You (M) - 02

pairing: jaebeom x you

genre: romance, angst, series, eventual smut

synopsis: Your love life has been filled with nothing but bad experiences. Determined to give up on the idea of finding the one you meet a man who is desperate to change your mind and have you see him as more.

word count: 5.0k

Your skull feels as if it weighs over a hundred pounds, while your body was floating down a murky river of despair. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. All you know in this moment is that you need water. Now. 

Mustering up as much strength as humanly possible you swing your leg from your bed and hurry over to your bathroom. Hangovers are when you are at your lowest as a human. Craning your neck under your sink faucet you try to capture as much water as possible and allow it to slide down your throat. Once satisfied you shut off the water and try to steady yourself. Peeling one eye open at a time you notice that you were still in last night’s attire and also neglected to remove one of your boots. 

Last night? What happened last night?

Your brain begins to reel back in time to remember just how exactly you became as blackout drunk as you did. Last night, you can remember that Sofie and you were going to one of Dominic’s new restaurants, Jake couldn’t come. 

Okay, yes, this is good, now what else?

You neglected to eat dinner since you were worried about feeling bloated in your tight pants you were wearing. Opening your eyes again you look down at your jean-clad legs to confirm this much was true, and that also explained why you became so drunk so quickly. Dominic kept sending over tequila shots, his way of trying to harass you for the night the two of you hooked up while drunk off tequila, but you could never reject free drinks.

And then something else, something important happened.

A man!

Yes, that was it, a man came and sat in the booth with you when Sofie said she wanted to leave. You remember talking a lot to him and thinking he was incredibly handsome, but God you just could not remember his face or name for that matter.

His lips pressed deeply against yours as he cradled your cheek, heat spread over your body as desire licked at your loins. 

The flashback of kissing a total stranger last night has you smacking your forehead in embarrassment. How can you not even remember who you kissed last night? Did it stop there? Or did you also sleep with this man?

Jesus, you really were a train-wreck.

You groan to yourself when suddenly you hear something coming from your bedroom. Dread fills your body as you slowly turn to find the cause of the noise. This really could not be happening to you right now. Slowly you make your way to your bedroom to see a stray man with dark hair stretching his limbs in the morning light. Well, that confirmed your precious worries of whether or not you had sex last night. You never stayed the night with men, let alone in your bedroom, you must have been drunk out of your mind.

You stay still in the doorway as you watch the man slowly turn to meet your eyes. Not only was there a strange man in your bed, but it just had to be him. Jaebeom smiled lightly at you while rubbing the remnants of sleep out of one eye. You felt as if you were going to be sick.

“Hey, did you sleep okay?” Jaebeom asks you in his gruff morning voice.

You suddenly felt so exposed, so vulnerable, even while still in your clothes you felt as if you were naked to a crowd of a thousand eyes. His eyes were light, and slowly your memories of last night began to stitch together. Sofie wanted to leave when Jaebeom noticed you two, he had approached you wanting to apologize for New Year’s, but you were more interested in him than hearing any sort of apology. You talked for what felt like hours while he just listened and looked at you, with those same twinkling eyes. You may have also cried, hard to say for sure.

“U-Uh yes, fine,” you cough awkwardly. How can you be standing in the same room with someone you cried in front of and then proceed to fuck? The discomfort was sweeping through your body like a tidal wave, “I’m really sorry for last night.”

“Trust me there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Jaebeom says as he starts to fix your bedding.

How could you let this happen? Was your self-discipline really so low that you would go back on your word about no hookups in a mere week? Albeit that Jaebeom happened to be one of the most gorgeous men you have seen, it was no excuse. This was your time for healing and being alone, just like Sofie said. How can you ever be trusted?

“Everything okay? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Jaebeom must have noticed the worsening expression on your face as you scolded yourself internally. You bring a hand to your forehead attempting to get a grip of reality. The world felt as if it was spinning and flipping all around you like you were in some sort of tortuous drying machine. 

“I’m just feeling really shitty. I think it’s best if you leave,” you tell him.

To your surprise, Jaebeom nods his head in understanding and begins to make his way past you towards your bedroom door without any sort of complaint. You figure it would probably be best to walk him through the hall to your front door just in the case of your roommate being scared to death by a stranger in the apartment. Silently you tread behind Jaebeom, his shoulders were wide as they sloped past your narrow hallway, you couldn’t help but admire.

As the two of you begin to reach the door Jaebeom suddenly stops and turns to you. He says nothing as he only just stares into your eyes. You began to feel so small in his presence, the way his eyes looked so desperately at your own, searching for something you knew you didn’t have. With shame filling your body you instead turn your eyes to the floor, Jaebeom realizes your discomfort and reaches his hand to the doorknob. 

Still, with his back to you, he says something just loud enough for your ears, “If you ever need anything, call me. I saved my number in your phone.”

“S-Sure, thanks I will,” your body feels hot at his words, he nods once before leaving your apartment, shutting the door softly behind him.

You stand there unable to move from your spot as you process everything that just happened. Your hookup with Jaebeom, your lack of memory, his genuine concerning tone, and most of all how kind he was. Your brain felt like mush as you struggled to get a grip on this strange man. In your whole history of one-night stands, this one was by far the most confusing for you. 

Once you are able to clear these headache-inducing thoughts from your head you look up and see you have just about twenty minutes until you have to be at work. As if an alarm went off in your brain you begin to hurry down the hall and speedily rid yourself of the remnants from the night before. As much as you did enjoy the occasional, oh who were you kidding, the frequent cocktail, you prided yourself in always being professional and punctual when it came to your career. Let’s face it, you were a competent woman playing in a man’s world and those people would do anything to see you knocked down a peg. 

You make quick work of straightening out your business attire and smoothing your hair into a low bun, you could worry about makeup while on the subway. You leave the door in a huff and begin to make your way to the station. All the while you could not help but try to rack your brain about the events that happened the previous night.

You moaned softly into his ear as he began to slip his fingers inside your panties, dripping with desire he slowly drew a finger around your arousal.

Your hand that had been applying mascara stops at the memory. You sit dazed while the subway softly rocks you back and forth as it trugs along the underground tracks. This was bad. Not only did you sleep with Jaebeom, but you also very much enjoyed it according to your memories. The moments the two of you shared were incredibly vivid in your mind. But oh, did you long for his touch. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since the encounter but your body was already yearning for the way his body felt on yours.

Fuck, this was bad, you thought.

You could deal with all kinds of men and the memories they left you with. The memories of disgust, anger, heartbreak, even resentment. But you had absolutely no idea what to do with this feeling of longing. Longing for a man you barely knew was not something you were going to allow yourself. Was your resolve really this weak?

The subway announces the arrival of your stop breaking your internal melodrama and effectively allowing you to shift your gears into work-mode. If you can just get through this workday you will probably never even have to see that man again. And if you did then you were going to tell him exactly how you felt. 

No not felt, what you knew.

You know that for both of your sanities you could not even begin to humor the idea of having any sort of relationship with him. You were not looking for any sort of man in your life. Whether that be a boyfriend or a friend with benefits type. You needed time alone, and for him to enter your life at this time is just wrong on every level. 

You settle into work easily enough once you reach your office. The familiarity of your workspace helped kick any lingering thoughts out the door. The sounds of quick fingers against keyboards, a smell of old coffee and ink cartridges fluffing through the air, and of course the heavy stares of your male colleagues as they picked apart your every step. You pay them no mind as you settle into your office and log into your desktop.

“Would you care for some coffee Ms. L/N?” Stacy, the new intern had just popped her head into your office the moment you sat. Stacy was smart and diligent, she stayed late to do the higher-up’s paperwork and always made sure to hold her tongue. Good girl. It just upset you dearly that a person of her capabilities was stuck with no pay and fetching coffee.

“Yes Stacy, thank you for asking,” you replied back.

She smiled sweetly at you before exiting your office. Waiting not a second longer you begin to check your work email as usual responding to your clients. Your fingers ran fast across your keyboard as you simultaneously would respond and keep one eye on the market to see if you had lost any money for any of your investors. The green arrows that flowed steadily at your bottom screen gave you a sense of relief as you began to allow yourself to sink into your work and forget about everything else.

To some, the work you do may seem dull. You understood why exactly they would think that, but it was so far from the truth. You found such a thrill in the way the stock market worked. The uncertainty of it all kept you hungry to know more. Because let’s face it, nobody, not even stock managers like yourself, knew if you were about to lose all of your assets or turn someone into a millionaire. It was quite a thrill for you, and if you were being quite honest, you had a damn good intuition about these types the things. Which is how you became the youngest stock manager in your division with a million-dollar reputation at your back, but you weren’t much for bragging. 

You would question yourself as you looked around the room at your coworkers. Most of whom lived in penthouses and rolled up to work in their glittering Mercedes. How was it that you carried most of the company’s reputation on your back alone, yet you were still living in a two-bedroom flat in the meat-packing district? You looked up from your computer as you remembered, no woman as competent as yourself has come as far as you have in this company. Therefore you had to tread a new road for younger women who would surely come after you.

Stacy walks into your office quietly as she leaves a fresh coffee on a coaster near your workstation. You forced a tight smile as a thank you. You had to pave the road for people like her. Because here was a brilliant mind fresh from Harvard business and yet her biggest responsibility was remembering how everyone took their coffee. 

You try to ignore these disgruntled feelings as suddenly your phone begins to ring. Snapped from your thoughts you reach for the device to answer the call.

Before you speak a gruff voice is heard through the speaker, “Y/N can I see you in my office?”

Your boss’s voice is low as it rumbles out the request. Right away, you tell him as you set the phone back down and begin to make your way towards his office abandoning your fresh coffee. You make your way towards the end of the younger manager’s offices until you are perched directly in front of massive double doors. You knock twice before entering, seeing your boss up from his desk gazing out of his floor-to-ceiling window.

Mr. Hobbes was considered a young man for his CEO position at your company. You were never sure of his exact age due to his overwhelming need to keep his life as private as possible. His hair was just on the brink of becoming an ashy tone but still had flicks of golden locks throughout. Hobbes was always nicely shaven and had a distinct green smell that just screamed “wealth.” He was one of the only men in the office who never tried to hit on or belittle you. Therefore, he was tolerable.

“Come join me,” Hobbes calls out to you, never looking away from his window.

With a deep sigh, you make your way over to stand near him and overlook his office view alongside him. The two of you stood silently next to each other and just watched. The people, cars, birds, and just about everything that made movement outside. It was odd. Standing as close as you were to one of the most powerful men in the country you would think it would shake you. Yet you felt absolutely nothing.

“You have a brilliant mind,” he begins next to you, “Did you know that?

“Haven’t thought too much about it, I just try my best just like everyone else,” you respond back honestly.

At this Hobbes laughs, “You haven’t thought too much about it.”

He then turns to you. His deep turquoise eyes staring you down, blue eyes were your least favorite color. They felt cold and distant, madness could be hidden behind them. Hobbes’s eyes were different, instead of the cold, you could feel a warm breeze on an ocean. He was a comfortable person to be around.

“Well, would it be terribly rude of me to start asking you to think about it? To think about your future,” he asks you.

“Not rude at all, I would just like to know your reasoning behind these questions.”

Your boss walks away from the window to take a seat at his large mahogany desk. Wordlessly he requests you to sit across from him in one of the smaller chairs. You make your way over to sit politely hoping to God he couldn’t tell that you got dressed in less than five minutes this morning. 

“I want to make you the head of recruiting,” Hobbes says to you.

You can’t help but let your eyes widen at his words. Head of an entire department. Sure you were good at what you did but you had only been working at this company for three years. This was surely too soon for such a big promotion.

“Head?” You ask him again to which he nods. “Sir, with all due respect, am I not under qualified for that sort of position?”

“I don’t give a damn about qualifications or years of experience. I care about numbers, and yours are good, no, they’re the best.” He begins to say, “I need more brilliant minds like yours so I figure why not take the best manager we’ve got and have her show the newbies how it’s done.”

To say you were complimented would be an understatement. You were shocked that Hobbes felt this way about you. While working at the company he mostly had kept to himself, rarely would you see him out on company dinners or even speaking during meetings. He was withholding so much power that you never dared to get on his bad side.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything yet,” Hobbes says. “Take time to think about it and come back to me with an answer by the end of the quarter.”

You nod your head at this, thanking him first you begin to stand and make your way towards his door. Before you are able to leave, your boss calls your name, you turn to see he had been following close behind. 

“Don’t let yourself think you are incapable,” he tells you. “I know talent when I see it and you’ve got it, Kid.”

You smile bashfully trying to avoid his eye contact. He laughs lightly at you before patting your shoulder gently in an encouraging way. You then turn to walk away once more and return to your office.

“That’s a good girl,” Jaebeom whispers in your ear as you feel his cock penetrate your dripping core from behind.

You turn back around shocked and look at your boss. Hobbes was staring curiously at your expression waiting for you to speak.

“I’m sorry did you say something?” You ask, afraid for the answer.

“I said you’re a smart girl Y/N,” he smiles lightly before turning his back to you and returning to his desk.

Your cheeks are hot from the misunderstanding as you quickly make your way to leave his suffocating office. Quick feet down the hallways as you desperately try to reach your office without having anyone notice your frazzled state. Slamming your office door your back meets the cool surface as you try and regain your normal heart-rate from the erotic memory.

You put your head in your hands to attempt to grab a hold of your subconscious. This situation was worse than you thought. How can one night of sex with Jaebeom be haunting you this much? Was it really that incredible? You sit back as you laugh at your own question. It was more than incredible. It was the best you have ever had.

You decided it would probably be best for you to drown yourself in work for the rest of the day. You needed so desperately for something to help distract you from your wandering mind, thank God statistics and economics had absolutely no sex appeal.

Time ticked on throughout your office. Your eyes stayed glued to your desktop screen but you could tell that the lights had begun to dim settling into the night around you. Fellow workers could be seen stretching their sore limbs high in the air before they gathered their things to leave. Quiet goodbyes were exchanged amongst the masses as everyone decided their life outside of this office would be a much greater place to be. 

You on the other hand could not let yourself be spared a single moment to yourself. It was the moment when the sensory lights had triggered to turn off in your office that you finally took in your surroundings. Once again you were the only person left in the office. With a big sigh you lean far back in your chair, elongating your spine against the back of the chair you begin to finally feel the exhaustion in your body. 

Deciding it was probably best for you to leave, you quickly gather your things and make your way out of the building. The bitter January air had you holding your coat closer to your body to try and conserve as much heat as possible. The other people passing you along the street seemed unaffected by the weather, it was after all a Friday night. Your workplace happened to be in the dead-center of the hippest club scene in your city. It was fun for you to watch people as you made your way to the underground subway station. With your headphones in, a soft calming melody played to assist in healing your slight headache as you watch young men and women laugh and hang off one another. You smile lightly admiring the way they all looked so alive and happy. 

The ride through the subway was nothing out of the ordinary. You would occasionally catch yourself dozing off only for the loud blaring station announcements to wake you from your short-lived slumber. On your cold walk home from the subway station to your apartment, you couldn’t help but think about how nice a hot shower sounded.

Lost in your own world you hardly notice there was a certain new constant man in your life sitting on the front steps of your apartment. Quickly you remove your earphones from your ears, just then he notices your presence. Jaebeom looks up to you, smiling slightly, he rises to his feet until he is standing right in front of you. He smells like spring rain.

“Jaebeom, what are you doing here?” Suddenly feeling incredibly insecure about your appearance under his hot stare you make quick work to smooth down your frizzy hair.

“I just needed to talk with you,” he says, the heat of his words causing a cloud to release with it in the chill of the city night.

“About what?”

He laughs slightly at your accusatory tone. Jaebeom takes in the scenery around him, the dimly lit neighborhood streets illuminated where the two of you stood. Softly rubbing the back of his neck Jaebeom tried to calm his own nerves. 

“Well, we had a really good time last night, right?” Jaebeom asks you now, looking you directly in the eyes. You blush at this, remembering all the flashbacks you had been getting during your busy workday. It was now your turn to get shy as you look to your feet, too flustered to meet his stare. A slight wind worked its way between your bodies as if to wrap the two of you in one cold embrace.

“I just wanted to come here and ask you properly,” he says, causing you to look up at him curiously. “I wanted to ask you on a proper date.”

Jaebeom speaks while searching your eyes nervously, afraid himself that he may have misread the connection the two of you had. You yourself could not deny the chemistry you felt with Jaebeom. Sleeping together was one thing, but you were nowhere in the right headspace to be dating right now. If only you had met him later when you were fixed.

“Jaebeom I’m flattered really,” you begin to say, already cringing at your lame line. “Us hooking up last night was a mistake on my part. I am not in the right place to be with anyone.”

You continue your rant as Jaebeom looks perplexed.

“Sleeping together, dating… I can’t do any of it right now. So I’m sorry but I just don’t think this,” your hand waves between your two bodies for emphasis. “Is going to happen.”

You realize what you said was harsh. Hell, if you were on the other end of this rhetoric with a guy you really liked you would be crushed. Unfortunately, you had to be this upfront with men. You’ve tried subtly in the past, and somehow these guys just never understood that you were not interested. After much trial and error, you have discovered being upfront, albeit harsh, was the best solution.

“I-” Jaebeom begins to speak but then suddenly laughs. You stare at him with confusion. You expected a certain reaction from him, but laughter definitely caught you off-guard. Jaebeom can hardly contain himself as he turns to try and calm himself. Meanwhile, you stood just waiting to hear his explanation for his strange reaction. 

“That explains this morning then I guess…” Jaebeom says to himself causing your patience to dwindle.

“I totally understand you not being ready,” he finally calms himself down enough to speak with you. “But Y/N, we did not hook up last night.”

Your head recoils back in shock and confusion, you stare into Jaebeom’s eyes trying to see if he was somehow using this as some sort of power-play against you. When looking at his eyes though, all you could find was sincerity. 

How can this be true? You distinctly remember separate occasions of him from last night while sleeping with him. Come to think of it though, you were fully dressed when you woke up, and so was Jaebeom. Can you even remember coming home with him? Your mind was completely blank.

“After the restaurant, I walked you home,” Jaebeom can sense your confusion from your facial features and decides to fill in the empty space. “Once I got you home you asked me to come inside to make sure you got to bed. You started to get really upset once we got to your room so I lied with you in bed for a bit until you calmed down, and then I must have fallen asleep after then.”

Your cheeks are burning bright red, as you do in fact remember everything Jaebeom just said to be true. You remember sobbing once you got to your bed, you remember asking him to hold you. If you could die from embarrassment, you would already be standing in your grave.

“But I remember things from last night, I remember us kissing and you-” you try and salvage your shameful memories, but have a hard time getting yourself to say that you remember him fucking you.

“And I?” 

“You, touching me…” You look up at him and see a tinge of amusement on his face at your shy confession.

“Well I have to say, I am truly flattered you had a very vivid dream about me,” his smirk on his face is accompanied by a red tinge in his cheeks thinking of the two of you becoming intimate. 

“But I can assure you we just slept next to each other, I would definitely remember if more happened.”

He laughed lightly clearly finding this whole situation to be just one big misunderstanding. This was so angering for you to hear though. Jaebeom was now openly mocking you in your eyes for the thoughts that attacked you all day.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, now if you don’t mind I would like to go inside and forget last night ever happened,” your words hold little meaning as the anger controls your tongue.

Jaebeom looks surprised at your reaction as you attempt to move past him. He can now clearly see you did not find this situation funny in the least bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jaebeom is frantic as you pass by him trying to reach your door. Softly he grasps your wrist causing you to look back and see his pained expression as he worries if he has hurt you.

“I understand you’ve gone through a lot,” he begins to say. “I just know what that feels like and it’s nearly impossible to go through those feelings alone.”

“You know absolutely nothing about me Jaebeom. Don’t feel special just because I used you as an emotional dumpster when I was too drunk to realize what I was doing.” 

You can feel the peak beginning to approach in your anger and it almost scares you. The last time you blacked out from your anger, it took more than apologies to recover the damage.

“You need to back the fuck off,” you spit venom at him.

He seems completely thrown back from your harsh words. His eyes are pleading with you, worrying that he might have upset you beyond repair. Behind all this banter Jaebeom cared for you as a person and he wanted more than anything for you to see him as more than just another man. He would never even think of trying to control or suppress you. He wanted so much more from you, he needed to know so much more.

You were not ready like him. Not ready to leap forth into another unknowing relationship with a man. He was the right person, but now was definitely not the right time. 

Silently he lets your wrist go as you hurry inside your apartment. Slamming the door you rest your back against it trying to control your breathing. The look on Jaebeom’s face was hurt. You had hurt him. Regret crawled its way up your chest making you feel absolutely nauseous for the way you handled speaking with him. The man had confessed to you for fucks sake. And you have the audacity to get upset with this complete stranger and hurt him just because you were embarrassed? 

This was a new low of yours.

[blissfulsun]

Angst idea: “maybe if I played my cards right, it would have been you and I” (Jeff being the one in a relationship and you having to watch him be happy with someone else when he’s the reason behind your happiness)

fwb universe? where u thought you don’t need him but now you’re eating your words:

There is no us. No words have ever previously haunted you to such torturous extent. They reverberate within your mind, a painful ringing reminder of your fear overpowering any rational thoughts, the ones screaming, begging for you to turn the car around and go back.

 To allow yourself to fall into his arms, fall into these overwhelming feelings akin to affection you were too terrified to admit. So you drove on, Jeff disappearing in the rearview mirror, your connection severed and company limited to times the two of you were inevitably forced together in settings mediated by your mutual friends. 

None of them aware of the painful longing, the extent to which your body screamed at you to go his way every time Jeff was nearby, close enough to grasp between your fingers but too far gone for either of you to truly touch.

It hurt like a bitch, a freezing cold that settled over your heart and stung against your skin. Especially now, as you watched the familiar smile stretch across his handsome face, eyes bright and arms full of someone that wasn’t you. 

It brought unwarranted tears, ones you refused to let fall in the club, you already felt pathetic enough staring at him so unabashedly from afar. Your inebriated mind found only one reasonable solution, drink enough to forget his name. 

But each drink & shot that was taken in friendly competition with strangers at the bar only served in reverse, Jeff all your drunk mind could think about. His stupidly beautiful face, name that left a bittersweet taste in your mouth, though that might have been the last tequila shot you just downed. 

Jeff is right there, leaning over your smaller frame to ask the bartender to cut you off and pay for your last round of drinks. For a second you assume he’s a figment of your imagination, heart so deprived it’s forced your mind to hallucinate his body so close to yours, familiar scent invading your senses and bare back warm against his chest. 

You finally realise it’s real when he begins his rant, ‘What were you thinking y/n? You’re going to get alcohol poisoning if you keep at it’ he sounds angry, frustration evident in the lines of his face. 

But you can’t find it in yourself to care, reeling at the proximity, having him this close is more intoxicating than all the drinks you’ve had tonight combined. 

A cocktail of longing and emotion that lets your true feelings slip. ‘I miss you.’ Jeff pauses, speechless at the interruption, your words whispered but heard clearly in the night. 

He’s stumped, though you pay it no mind as you go on. ‘I saw you with her and I...I just keep thinking, maybe if I played my cards right, it would have been you and I’ the confession doesn’t make you feel any lighter, no weight lifted off your chest, not with the way his brown eyes bore into yours blankly.

‘Jeff?’ you finally ask following his deafening silence. ‘I’m trying to say I fucking love you please say some-’ 

‘No. I - Y/n, what the fuck?’ he’s pulling away, your body cold without his closeness, mind reeling at the stinging rejection that’s bringing the tears back to your eyes. 

‘I can’t do this right now. Not when you’re like this, not when she’s right there and I...tell me again when you’re sober’ Jeff is gone with that. Tall frame disappearing in the crowded dance floor and out of the bar just like that. 

In the morning, he sits idly by the kitchen counter, eyes focused on the blank screen of his phone. No missed calls or messages. 

Your designated ringtone doesn’t break the silence of his cold apartment, the doorbell doesn’t ring. There is no us, those words haunt him all the while.

[twokinkybeans]

Inch By Inch (Sequel to Seven Inches - Tailor!AU)

A sequel to Seven Inches, written for both our TwoKinkyBeans July Exchange plus the line prompt that Lien sent me:

“Oh” Tony coos as Peter gives him another quick gasp. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

I hope you guys enjoy!!! 

Warnings: nff, smut, handcuffs, light dom/sub, pet names, a size kink I didn’t quite intend to write but IT HAPPENED.

-

Peter stares at the supple material that’s spread out all over the desk. He swallows and reaches out for it. His fingers trace past the tightly woven twill texture. May, from the other side of the shop, cocks an eyebrow at him. “You’re alright up there?” Peter’s cheeks flare up right away. He tries to come up with a somewhat plausible excuse as to why he takes such a sudden interest in the navy blue material. He can’t think of any. The only thing that keeps replaying in his mind is Tony’s promise. He can nearly feel the man’s hot breath tickling on his ear again. “Make that tweed suit yourself, kid, and it’ll be the one I wear when I take that sweet little ass for the first time.”  The man had slapped is butt and resumed their earlier conversation as though nothing had happened. Fuck, he wants Tony so bad.

“I, eh-” Peter stutters, “-I want to learn how to make a suit myself.” May squints at him, searching his face. “Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with a certain customer?” She presses her lips together, but her eyes betray how she’s trying to hold back a wide grin. Peter smiles sheepishly.  “I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about.” “Mmmh.”

-

Peter’s focus is nowhere to be found. He wants to listen to May as she gently explains different sewing techniques to him, he truly wants to. Yet, it’s only Tony’s voice he hears inside his mind. Gosh. He wonders what it’ll feel like to have Tony inside of him. Sure, he’s been topped by other guys before, but nothing is comparable to the size of Tony’s massive cock. He can already imagine it sticking out of the thick pants proudly. The suit itself would be a hot as fuck look without question. Would Peter be able to feel the structure of the fabric against his thighs? Feel every little fiber?

Peter craves it all. The man’s voice, his hot gaze. Since the ‘Shop Incident’, they haven’t even laid hands on each other again. Okay, well, they had. But nothing truly sexual. Just chaste kisses and whispered promises as it’d been impossible to find space in their shared schedules. Peter has been very occupied with his newly found Spider-Man duties now that Tony had taken the role as a mentor too. His new suit is insanely good, and Peter loves patrolling in it and exploring all the latest tech the man included. Tony has been busy also, and he hasn’t made it into the shop once.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, get your ass back to earth.” “Wha-” Peter breathes out startled and blinks a few times. There, he’s got no focus. 

No. 

Focus. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but your crush is as big as Stark’s wealth.” His aunt shakes her head almost teasingly. “Aaaargh, May, how do I get rid of it?” “You don’t. Well, you will eventually. But while it’s there, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You’ll be walking with your head on cloud nine for quite some time.”

Peter is silent for a few seconds, letting her words sink in. “Do you… Do you think I’m too naive?” “How- Why do you think that?” “He’s Tony Stark, May. Am I… Delusional for thinking he might actually want me?” “It’s clear he does, isn’t it?” “I mean…” His voice trails off. May finally puts the fabric back down on the table.  “Yeah?” “More? I mean more. Oh, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want more, then how can I even think about what he might want from me?” May makes a shushing noise, shaking her head and grabbing Peter’s hands within her own. She smiles sweetly at him in the way only she can. A warm, comforting feeling spreads in his chest, and his panic dies down. 

“Peter,” she whispers and tucks a loose curl back behind his ear. “As much as I understand your nerves… They’re only natural. And there’s no hurry. Now tell me, what’s with the suit? Every time you see it, you get a little weird.” “He… He made a promise about it.” “Oh?” “Mmmh, I’ll spare you the details.” “Oh.” She chuckles. “In that case, why don’t we get back to making it?” “That sounds like a solid plan.”

And that’s what they do.

-

Peter’s heart hammers in his chest when his eyes dart up to the top of the immensely large building that is the Stark Tower. He’s been here before, obviously. But never as Peter. Always as Spider-Man- with the other Avengers around as well. Now, he’s just Peter. A tailor-in-learning. On his way to deliver a handmade suit to his crush/mentor/hero. Tony. Tony Stark. The richest man in the States. 

How the fuck did he get here.

He stares at the intimidating entrance. Men and women in their sophisticated clothes walk in and out of the building. He feels terribly out of place, but he takes a deep breath and pushes through his nerves. The large, busy foyer nearly overloads his sense. However, a few deep breaths help him to shut out the visual and audible stimuli. He strides over to the reception area and smiles politely at the lady behind the computer.  “Hi! I’m Peter, Peter Parker, Miss. I uh, I’m here to see Mr. Stark? About his new suit?” He holds up the package to show it. The woman returns his smile and nods.  “Let me check his schedule, Sir.”

Sir. Peter almost snorts but feels very proud at the same time. 

“Mr. Stark is expecting you in his private quarters. Here,” she says. She hands him a keycard and then points towards the elevator. “The keycard grants you access to both the elevator and his suite. It’ll take you to the right floor automatically. Please hand it in when you leave the building.” Peter nods, his jaw slack as he takes in all the information. He slides the keycard through his fingers, twisting- turning and playing with it nervously. Pressing his lips together, Peter thanks the lady once more and makes his way towards the elevator. 

It isn’t until he actually sets foot into the metal box that he realizes what exactly the woman had told him. He nearly gasps. His heart misses a beat and his cheeks heat up.

Private quarters.

Oh God- Oh God. Tony has set up the meeting in his private quarters. That means something. Doesn’t it? Or is he the type of man that doesn’t care about random people stalking through his living space? Peter has no clue. He hopes he’s an exception to the general rule. That no one else is allowed in the man’s suite. 

He hopes… Well- He hopes Tony and him are going to have sex. Real sex this time. Tony promised. He told Peter they would. He wouldn’t back down now, would he? Peter sighs, tapping his foot in restless motion. Peter eyes the small display indicating the floor they’re at and inhales slightly when he sees they’re nearly there. This is it. This is-

Ding.

Peter clutches the suit a little closer and hesitantly steps out. Everything in the Tower is absolutely gigantic, and apparently, the suite is no exception to that. Peter can’t even imagine having… This much space. The glass windows let the sunlight cast a golden glow over the man’s presumable costly possessions. He takes it all in. The large, plush sofa. The pool table. The fucking  hot tub in the middle of the room with circular descending steps around. A soft, instrumental beat is playing through the hidden speakers. Peter wonders how on earth he will find Tony seeing that this is just his leisure room.  “Mr.-” “Ah, Parker, there you are. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Peter turns around startled and stares at the man leaning against the side of the bar. A smirk plays on Tony’s lips and he raises his glass. “You want some?” “I, eh-” Peter babbles, still a little dumbfounded. Tony flails his free hand, and Peter decides a quick why the fuck not. If he’s old enough to fuck whoever he wants, he can sure take a small drink, right?

A few minutes later, they’re seated on the large plush sofa. Peter sips his Tequila Sunrise cocktail. Tony insisted that Peter would enjoy it and much to Peter’s liking and dismay, Tony was right. He’s not 100% sure what’s in there, but he sure isn’t complaining. “So,” Tony smirked, “-I see you brought a new suit?” Peter eyes the suit, still neatly packed in its cover.  “I- I did, Mr. Stark. Would you like to try it on?” Tony tilts his head. His eyes burning, prodding and oh God- Peter can feel his own heartbeat speed up. “Show it to me first, boy.”

They stare at each other for a brief moment. They both know what’s happening. They’re slipping back into their roles. Just as they had in the shop. Tony’s voice already dropping a notch, the rough scratch in his words catching on his tongue so sweetly. So… Authoritative.  “Of course, Sir,” Peter gushes and rushes to pull the zipper down. Carefully, he takes out the suit, smiling slightly at the feel of the thick, textured fabric as it slides past his hands. Tweed suits are not very high in demand, but they definitely radiate a certain chic vibe. Maybe because it’s so timeless.  “Here you go.”

Peter stands up, holding the piece by the clothing hanger and blushes when he hears Tony’s appreciative hum. The man stands up too. Slow. Calculating. He strides closer, making Peter’s dick twitch every time the man’s leather soles hit the floor. When Tony stops right in front of him, the older man grins. “Oh, isn’t it just gorgeous,” he coos. “Almost as beautiful as you. Tell me, did you make this?” “I-I did, Sir. My aunt, uhm- May. She obviously helped me get the technique right.” “Goooooood.”

A pause.

“Now, be a good boy and help me change clothes.” “Yes, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers breathlessly. For a short second, Peter waits for Tony to make the first move. It never comes- oh.  A strangled noise escapes from his throat when he takes a step closer. His fingers moving up to help Tony get out of his cardigan sweater. He’s the one making the movements, and yet it feels almost humiliating to undress Tony. In the very best way, of course. “Am I doin’ it right?” “Mmh- Just keep it up, honeycomb.” Peter nearly cracks up at the pet name, but the lustful look in Tony’s eyes keeps him going. He’s deliberately not being very careful. His fingers brushing past Tony’s naked, warm skin at every possible opportunity where he slides the fabric off the man’s shoulders. The icy, blue light coming from the Arc Reactor shining freely onto Peter’s face. It’s… Such a powerful device. Peter groans. “I can feel the vibrations,” he mumbles as he keeps staring at it. His hands slowly trace down now. He definitely should work a little faster if he wants the man inside him sooner rather than later. It’s not gonna happen automatically.  His hands work on the fly of the pants and he tugs them down impatiently. Then, he drops onto his knees. Carefully untying Tony’s shoelaces and taking them off together with the pants. All that’s left now are the tight, black undies. “Leave them on for now. Go on, dress me.”

-

“Oh, oh!” Peter whimpers out loud. His arms are shackled to the headboard above his head. His legs are draped over Tony’s still fully clothed shoulders and the man’s cock pounds into him harsh and fast. The soft, thick wool pants have slid down to Tony’s knees where it rests on the sturdy mattress. “Oh” Tony coos as Peter gives him another quick gasp. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” “P-Please, gimme everything, every last inch of you,” Peter pants heavily. He feels so incredibly full. It’s nothing like he’s ever experienced before, and it only aids in riding his ecstasy more and more. He can’t really feel Tony’s balls slapping against his skin yet, and somehow it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted at this moment. “More, need more!” “Yes, ’m gonna make you fall apart at the seams,” Tony growls. He slows down his movements for a good second and tightens his secure grip on Peter’s hips, dragging him up a bit. Peter snorts at the pun, but the light chuckle morphs into a loud and pleading moan when Tony slowly but surely fills Peter up wholly. The weight of his balls finally settling against his skin. Peter’s eyes water at the near overwhelming intensity of pure happiness coursing through him. He did it. He took a full seven inches inside of him.

Everything that happens after that is one big blur. Tony manages to hold him up with just one hand, using the other to drag sweet strokes on Peter’s hard and leaking cock. Everything just feels so goddamn perfect, the fire in his stomach building and building and building and- “I can’t- I can’t stop oh fuck oh Tony!!” Peter cries out, cum spurting from his cock right onto his chest. His eyes are pressed shut, his head pressed back into the soft, fluffy pillow. “I keep coming...” he mumbles completely dazed. It’s true though, he can feel the muscles jerk- aiding in forcing even the last few drops out of him.  Tony’s hips stutter. His breathing simply stops as he presses into Peter with such force that it brushes past Peter’s overstimulated prostate again. It stays there when the cum oozes from the man’s dick. It fills him up, Peter can feel the slight pulsing inside of him. 

“Oh, sweet boy…” Tony murmurs after a few seconds of undisturbed serenity. The firm grip suddenly becomes a very soft caress on Peter’s tired muscles, and it’s only then that he feels they’re trembling. Slowly, Tony helps him put his legs down. As a result, his cock slips out, and Peter gasps when his hole desperately tries to clench around nothing after the fast pounding it received.  “Mmh- feels cold,” he mumbles. Tony is quick to respond to that, shifting around so he’s able to tug the sheets up to cover the exhausted boy. Peter lets out an appreciative groan.  “So,” he smiles sleepily, the tiredness catching up with him, “-do you like your new suit?” Tony snorts, and he nods. “It’s perfect, such hidden talent in you, Spider-Boy.” “Oh, go fuck yourself,” he giggles. Tony tilts his head playfully. “Nah, I’d rather fuck you. After a short break, obviously.”

Peter gives the man a teasing push, only to draw him down and nuzzle into his chest. He might not be sure what Tony wants from him, but Peter sure as fuck wants cuddles right here, right now. “Hug me.” “As you wish, honeycomb.”

[inanotherheadspace]

Naruto Characters as Drinks / At a Bar

Naruto  - bathtub moonshine

 doesn't drink, just makes it 

Kushina would kill him if he even t h o u g h t about it 

Shino comes along and is like “yo, this shit slaps. sell it”

Shikumaru agrees and the three start a moonshine business, with Shikumaru being the main seller

Tsunade funds this with tax money 

one of the only sober ones at the bar 

there's two ways I see this going: either he NEVER touches alcohol, or Kurama keeps him sober as all hell

Sasuke - wine 

depressed suburban mom vibes 

sighs a lot as he sips his wine

gets very poetic 

brings up Itachi a lot 

Sakura - fun mixed cocktails 

“I don't wanna drink too much”

starts out with “only one”

Ino challenges her to a drinking contest 

Sakura, being a petty queen, agrees

looses miserably

Naruto gets roped into holding up her hair as she pukes 

Tsunade yelled “Pussy” as Sakura runs to the bathroom 

Ino - vodka  

life of the party 

or so she THINKS 

banned from most bars

Shikumaru is trying to keep from stripping on the bar

Temari is throwing dollars and cheering her on 

thinks she looks hot, but looks like she's on meth 

there's no music playing but she's still dancing 

Shikumaru - dark, expensive rum

sits back and watches the mess 

finds it funny

ends up being bullied by Ino and Temari 

he ends up being the body for their Body Shots after multiple punches 

Choji - beer, expensive nice ones 

absolute frat boy 

funnel god 

body this shit 

Naruto is holding the funnel and continuously pouring beer down it

Kiba - beer, think Natty Light 

drinks beer with friends 

makes a face after each sip

tries to cover it up

everyone knows he hates it 

real favorite drink - fruity cocktails

always drinks them with his sister while they do pedicures 

will never admit to it 

Hinata - vodka 

c h u g s her vodka

can drink 6 + bottles without a problem

last one standing at end of the night 

Neji is screaming in the corner 

when she's hammered, she smokes (cigarettes or pot depending on the mood and what she can get for free)

Shino - water shots 

will fake being drunk

DD 100%

will sneak a HoneyBee every once in a while (honey bee - honey whiskey drink, very sweet, very good)

won't drink cuz it can hurt the insects 

will go out back to smoke pot instead 

Lee - anything and anything

as the King of the Drunken Fist 

the mans can DRINK 

will down it like its water

doesn't know what it is 

just 

chugs 

Body Shot Whore 

first to start a fight 

will cry the entire fight 

“bUt YoU’rE mY fRiEnDs”

Neji - 1/2 glass of wine and NO MORE 

l i g h t w e i g h t 

him and Sasuke just sit back and observe

even though those two are probs almost blackout drunk after one glass 

they 100% hate each other, they don't speak to anyone

just sit across from each other avoiding eye contact at all cost

tryin to mom Hinata and Tenten 

after 1/2 a glass of wine - think desperate house wives

has flipped a table before 

will throw things 

Tenten - tequila shots

begging Neji to do body shots with her 

so is Lee tbh

Her, Hinata, and Temari have the best tolerance 

absolutely hammered

gets up on the bar with Ino

doesn't dance

just struggles to get up on the bar

lays there and cries 

Temari - Jungle Juice 

absolute life of the party 

whiny and clingy 

has her arms around Shikumaru and coos at him 

cries when she says how much she loves him 

all while hiccuping

eventually she’s absolutely hammered and partying with Ino and Tenten 

doesn't strip but bar dances 

strangers are constantly buying her drinks 

Gaara - refuses to show up 

invited 

doesn't show 

ends up having to collect Konkoro and Temari 

Lee (drunk as all fuck) tracks him down 

and the two end up fighting

Lee wins 

the entire bar is broken

Konkoro - whiskey, neat 

relaxed

reading a book

adding little to nothing to conversations

Tenten makes him do her makeup

Sai - green tea shot 

him and Ino are the weird couple doing shots out of each others mouths

the first time he had alcohol, he licked the top of the drink like a cat would and coughed really loud  

wholeheartedly agrees to do body shots with Ino 

those two would end up making out in the back corner and feeling up each other in public 

Tsunade - soju

hangs out with the kids at the cheap dive bar

because she's a broke bitch 

left Shizune to do all her work 

and stole her money 

Has Tonton with her for some reason 

Choji keeps eyeing the pig 

eventually offers to sell Tonton for more drinks

AT ANOTHER BAR ... 

Kakashi - shaken martini

gets into a fight with anyone over shaken vs stirred  

will get fun flavors added in 

had to be dragged out by the back of his neck to said bar 

bartender knows him by name and knows his usual drink

Gai - soju

classy 

tried the stronger shit once

regretted it 

on a good night, he can keep up with Tsunade

Kurinai - margarita with salt on the rim 

a classy freak 

mean drunk

will fight anyone and everyone 

apologizes instantly over any mean thing she says 

makes Gai and Yamato cry 

Asuma finds it hysterical 

she once pissed off a local bar fiend 

the dude wanted to fight

Asuma and Kakashi tried to step in but she had the dude laid out in an INSTANT 

Asuma - scotch 

will smoke a cigarette while drinking

looks off into the distance a lot 

scholarly drinker 

Yamuto - Pina Coladas

juice freak 

downs at 8 

has to be carried home

doesn't know who or where he is at most times 

Iruka - Moscow mule 

says he's only having one drink

does only have one drink

[girls-scenarios]

Mix Up My Heart

Idol: Doyeon (Weki Meki)

Prompt: could u do a Bartender!AU where Doyeon and the rest of Weki Meki go to a club and the reader starts pulling out tricks to impress her?

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I’m annoyed that we’re only getting a digital single when Weki Meki deserves so much more, but I’m so excited for Dazzle Dazzle. The dance looks so cool and unique, just like Weki Meki’s dances always are. Lets hope that Fantagio actually promotes them this time. Also, I used a lot of bartending terms in this since I work in a bar, so if you guys need any clarification, just let me know lol. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

♡ Tip Jar♡

Doyeon wasn't sure how she felt about clubs. It wasn’t like she didn’t like drinking or dancing or loud music. She loved to have fun and generally found the drunk antics of her friends entertaining. However, something about clubbing made it.... Different. Maybe it was that so many people were in one sweaty place, or that she was continuously having to shove people away to get her own personal space, or that everyone around her wanted to hook up with her. Or maybe it was the lights that gave her a headache and how hard it was to get a drink at the overcrowded bar. Whatever it was, it made her a little wary of clubbing, only agreeing for special occasions.

Suyeon’s birthday, unfortunately, counted as a special occasion. So Doyeon had no choice but to dress up in her best tight black leather pants and follow the girls to a club in the new downtown district.

“I heard the place has a brand new speaker system,” Yoojung said excitedly, somehow still looking tiny even in her clubbing clothes. Doyeon hoped she wouldn’t get trampled. Yoojung, though, didn’t seem to be so worried. “I’m super excited to hear it!”

“I’m excited because my favorite DJ is working there tonight,” Suyeon said, running a hand through her dark hair and grinning. This was totally her scene. “She makes the best remixes.”

“I just want to dance. I’ve been stressed lately and I need to let it all out,” Lua commented, stretching her arms above her head and grinning. Her new black hair was tied into a tight ponytail and she was wearing comfortable clothes for dancing. Her excitement made Doyeon smile a bit. At least she was going to have fun.

“I should have worn better shoes.”

“Elly, you always do this!” Yoojung laughed, and Doyeon decided that it was time to tune them out. She glanced at her watch as they rounded the corner leading to the club and sighed.

Only ten. It was going to be a long night.

-

Inside, some Justin Bieber remix was playing, the bass shaking the room with its intensity. Thankfully, since it was still early, it wasn’t overly crowded yet, and Doyeon spotted seats at the bar. A drink was just the thing she needed.

While the rest of the girls dispersed, Elly saying that she was going to grab a table somewhere and Lua heading straight for the small crowd of dancing people with Yoojung skipping behind her, Doyeon made her way to the bar. Suyeon followed her with a nervous Sei in tow, assuring the younger girl that she’d have fun. Doyeon couldn’t help but laugh and wonder if she was that nervous when she had her first clubbing experience.

“Let’s get some drinks,” she suggested as she grabbed a seat at the bar. “What do you like to drink, Sei?”

“Um, I don’t really know.”

Right. She wasn’t used to drinking yet. “We’ll find you something good,” she said, turning around just in time to see you walking over behind the bar. Her eyebrows raised. Compared to most of the people she found working in clubs, you were very attractive and seemed put together. Your smile wasn’t tight around the edges and it actually reached your eyes as you walked up and placed down the glass you’d been polishing.

“Hello, welcome in! What can I get started for you ladies?”

She liked your voice too. Well, at least she’d found something interesting. Smiling, she leaned forward. “We have an inexperienced drinker here. What would you recommend?”

“Depends. Do you like the taste of alcohol?” You turned your gaze towards Sei as Doyeon pointed at her, and she blushed.

“U-um, not really?”

“Then I’ll make you something sweet. It’s called a lavender lemonade. You can’t even taste the alcohol.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Joked Suyeon, making you laugh.

“A little bit. But as long as you pace yourself, you should be okay. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Soju,” Suyeon said simply, and you nodded, then turned your gaze to Doyeon, who gave you her most beautiful smile. With any luck, she’d made your heart skip a beat as she moved her long hair over her shoulder.

“Any cocktails you’d recommend?”

“Yes!” Your eyes had followed Doyeon’s hand over her shoulder, but now you snapped out of it, your smile back. There was a tinge of something else in your eyes, and she hoped it meant what she thought it meant. “Our blood orange margarita is pretty popular right now.”

“I’ll take one of those, then.”

“I can do that.” You moved away to begin the drinks, and Doyeon turned around to see her two friends grinning at her.

“What?”

Suyeon wiggled her eyebrows. “What was that, Doyeon? Were you flirting with the bartender?”

“Flutter your eyelashes a little more,” giggled Sei, and Doyeon felt her face flush a bit. Still, she held her chin high and shrugged.

“So what? Is flirting with the bartender a crime? They’re hot!”

“True,” Suyeon admitted, then quickly smoothed her face into a calm smile as you walked back up with her soju. Doyeon was amazed at how fast she changed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I’ll get started on those cocktails now.”

Doyeon send the two girls at her side a look that meant “no talking while they’re here” before turning her attention back to you. You seemed to feel her eyes on you, because you smiled a little wider and raised your eyebrows, locking gazes with her.

“Are you interested in bartending?” You asked as you picked up a bottle of vodka and measured it with a jigger. She hummed and propped up her face with her hand, her elbow resting on the bar.

“I’m more interesting in the drinks,” she admitted with a little laugh. “Do you like being a bartender?”

“Oh for sure, I get to meet all sorts of,” you paused, looking up at her again. “Really great people.”

Sei giggled. Doyeon just hoped that you didn’t hear it. “I’m sure you do.” She watched you pick up a pour bottle and shake it vigorously before pouring it into the glass with flourish, making her laugh softly. Spurred on by her reaction, you picked up a lemon and a peeler and carefully bit quickly peeled off a strip of the lemon peel. Then you twisted it over the mix, turned it into a curl, and placed it carefully on top.

“One lavender lemonade,” you said, placing the glass onto the bar top. Sei’s eyes lit up as she picked it up and tasted it.

“Whoa, I can’t taste any alcohol at all!”

“Dangerous for sure,” Suyeon said with a laugh, and you laughed along as you pulled out another glass. Interested, Doyeon watched you pull out the tequila, a pour bottle of what seemed to be orange juice, and an array of other ingredients. After salting the rim and putting a block of ice inside, you placed the glass to the side and started filling the shaker. Once you had all of your ingredients inside, you put the top on and shook hard, making little circles with your hands and beaming when Doyeon smiled.

“You’re good at that,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes (she hoped her friends missed that) and leaning further onto the bar to watch your process closer.

“I’m glad you think so. It’s taken a lot of practice.” Once again, with flourish, you poured the mixture into the glass and garnished the top with a slice of blood orange on the rim and a piece of mint on the top. Then, you placed the drink on the bar and gave a bow, making the girls laugh.

“I didn’t know I got a show with my drinks tonight.” She took a sip of her drink and smiled. It was good. Playfully, she sent you a wink. “I would have brought my ones if someone had told me.”

This made you laugh and Suyeon snorted behind her, taking Sei’s arm. “It looks like Elly found a table. We should head over there.”

Doyeon looked at her friends and then back to you. There was a twinkle in your eye, a promise of attraction, and her stomach jumped in the most delightful way. For the first time, she was happy to be in a club. “Actually,” she said, “I think I’ll stay here tonight. Have fun, girls.”

Suyeon smirked and made a motion with her hands that Doyeon didn’t care to interpret before taking Sei’s arm again. “Well, have fun. We’ll be around if you need us.” As the two walked away, Sei frowned in confusion, apparently asking what Suyeon’s motion had meant. The older girl leaned in and whispered into her ear, and Sei let out an embarrassed squeak.

“They seem to be having fun,” you commented, and Doyeon rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to you.

“They always do. But enough about them. You haven’t told me your name yet.”

You grinned brightly, and Doyeon admired the way your face seemed to glow in the bright club lights. “I’m (Y/N),” you said, leaning across the bar. “Now it’s only fair that I get to know your name too.”

“I’m Doyeon,” she replied with a smile, taking a sip of her drink and enjoying the feeling of being the only one in your gaze. “And you have no idea how happy I am to meet you.”

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

I know you're not writing at the moment. When you are and if you feel like doing it, can I request a go where you're not with Haz, but Tom decided to have a party and try and have some fun with you two. Getting him to take body shots from you and kinda visa versa. Ending in you finally admitting you've been wanting to lick his body for fucking years. But he's a friend and your roommate so it's weird and your rather watch him from afar than lose him as your friend. Hope you're all okay ❤ 🐝

A/n: so I got bored and thought why not try and write something and I forgot how much I loved it. I’m gonna stick to blurbs until after my test next Tuesday but hopefully I’m gonna feel better about my writing. I think I diverted from the ask a little but I hope you still like it! So I debated on making this angsty or not and then thought I hadn’t written angst in a while so here you go ;)

Warnings: Drinking, body shots (probably inaccurate somewhere since I’ve never done them), angst plot twist (oops). 

“Come on! It will be fun!”  

You looked up at your best friend, seeing the pout that had formed on his lips. His soft, pink, perfect- 

“Y/n?” 

You shook your head, looking up into his large brown eyes with a blush. “Sorry. I just don’t know Tom. I was hoping to get some studying down at the library.” You admitted, truthly - you had it all planned out for your friday night; get a hot chocolate from the cafe by the library and find that little nook that always seemed to be empty and had a perfect outlook of the starry sky. 

“But you’re always in the library.” Tom sighed, sitting down next to you. “Can’t you just have one night off?” He swivelled his body on the couch to gain a better look at you, his pout still prominent on his lips. “For me?” 

Damn, he knew his audience. 

“Fine.” Whatever you planned to say next was cut off when Tom pulled you into a hug, smiling against your shoulder as he moved you from side to side. 

“Yes! Thank you! You’re not gonna regret it!”

Famous last words. 

And that’s how you ended up standing in your kitchen surrounded by people you didn’t know. A red solo cup full of homemade cocktail by Tom in your hands as you searched for any sign of him or Harrison, who seemed to be the only people you knew here. 

“Y/n!” You heard your name before you felt a hand pulling you through the crowd, almost causing you to spill your drink. You could see the wave of brown messy curls through the sea of people, leading you to the lounge. “Come do shots.” 

You rolled your eyes at your roommate as you saw the set up of shots. Body shots to be exact. 

“No, no, no.” You started, palms already starting to sweat as you saw a girl lick Harrison’s stomach. You were friends with Harrison and you weren’t nearly drunk enough to do this.

“Here, you can do it on me.” You furrowed your brow before your eyes went to Tom, his shirt already discarded on the floor and his toned abs catching your eyes. He was drunk, that’s all this was - drunken antics as you would usually hear about when Tom came back from a night out. 

“Um…” Before your brain could catch up, Tom had already scooted Harrison off of the couch and laid down, a line of salt on his exposed stomach. You gulped as he smirked at you, Harrison handing you a shot of Tequila. 

“T-thank you.” Your words were stammered but Harrison was also already drunk so he paid no mind, his lips already entangled with the girl who had done a body shot with him. 

Tom looked at you expectantly and you made your way over, kneeling between his legs and looking down at his abs, right where you tongue was about to be. 

“Lick, shot, lime.” Tom reminded you with a chuckle, pointing to each thing as he listed them. You nodded, cheeks already flaming red before the alcohol had even touched your lips. 

Tom was smiling drunkenly, biting his lip as he looked up at you and took the shot glass from your hands. He opened his mouth to remind you again when suddenly you lowered your mouth down, swirling your tongue over the salt on his stomach and tracing each definition of his toned muscles. 

You could feel and hear his breathing elevate as you got lost in the taste of his skin, continuing even when the salt had disappeared onto your tongue. 

He laughed, snapping you out of your trance. “Shot, darling.” You looked up at the glass he was still holding, a smirk on his lips. 

“Sorry, just wanted to do that for fucking years.” You were gaining in confidence as you sent a smirk right back, taking the glass and downing the shot of Tequila. You made a face at the burning taste, closing your eyes tightly and making Tom laugh before your eyes desperately searched for the lime. 

“Where’s the-?” 

Just then Tom opened his mouth to show the green of the lime. He closed his mouth with a smirk, his unruly eyebrow raised as you crawled more up his body to reach his lips. You quickly captured his soft lips in a deep kiss, craving the taste of the sweet lime which you found plenty of on his tongue. The fruit ended up in your mouth before you spit it out and resumed doing what you wanted for years.

“Y/n?” 

Tom’s tongue was entangling so perfectly with yours, the alcohol in both of your systems heightening your desire. 

“Y/n!” You snapped out your daydream at the loud call of your name, your drink slightly spilling as you jumped out of your skin.  You refocused your vision to see another girl’s lips locking with your roommates, jealousy burning in your system more than the alcohol had. 

“You okay?” You turned to face Harrison, his slightly dazed eyes looking concerned. You took a deep breath and nodded, downing the last of your alcohol to try and numb the feelings you had for your roommate. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You shook your head, putting on your best smile as Harrison offered to concoct another cocktail for you. Just fine, you thought as your eyes caught sight of Tom leading the girl into his room. 

Famous last words. 

Blurb Masterlist 

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[cordovcs]

✩ °｡— hi omg ok let’s get into this good, fun & fresh content & lemme introduce u to my lil bi sexual hellion who has tequila running thru her bloodstream & oh ya hi i’m annie, 23, she / her plot w me i want u to hurt me worse than shonda rhimes has ever dared to idk bye

name: hello this is indigo capri cordova 

sexual orientation: bi as fuck

birthplace: west hollywood, california 

major: communications 

spoken languages: english 

zoadic: psycho 

- hello this is indigo

- alright, to set the scene... let’s imagine that there is a beautiful image of a car before us; however, that car is surrounded by dark smoke bc that said car is absolutely engulfed in flames bc it’s driver is an #idiot 

- but also imagine within that image of total chaos & destruction that the driver... yes the one i mentioned previously as an #idiot... is still there... but this bitch is throwing up deuces & taking selfies 

- that is indigo 

- but more importantly here:

— first-born into wealthy, powerful family & was raised by her father, an influential diplomat & european oil tycoon, & her mother, a famed american socialite with ties to many corrupt government families. basically, her mother was her father’s entire world … ten years younger than him, a trust fund that kept her occupied, & a taste for adventure —  he devoted himself to her &her only … indi was simply just a factor in his adoration, as her mother craved maternity & of course, her father would do anything to please her, even if that meant creating a child he did not care for. 

— as she matured ( if u could even say she’s mature ?? idk ) & learned of her father’s distaste for her, she began to act out … wild parties, late night conquests with strangers that lurked outside of the club, & lethal cocktails of drugs & alcohol. at first, it was just to anger her father, but it soon became a way of life for her. now, despite having been in & out of rehab for a mixture of reasons, it’s a miracle to catch her sober who knows what this week’s cocktail is

— unfortunately, like her father, indi struggles with addiction in many forms. there’s something about the feeling of elevation that comes with each sip of tequila as it leaves a burning trace down her esophagus, each drag of a burning cigarette … it’s an escape. but, she’ll never truly admit that she has a problem, no matter how many stints of rehab she serves.

— however, there are some euphoric rushes that are unattainable by drugs &alcohol only.  which, y’know, explains why so many of the anecdotes of her past occurred ; from the four-wheeling accident in the hills of malibu that left her twelve year old self with a crown of stitches carefully detailed above her right eyebrow, hanging over the edge at devil’s pool while visiting victoria falls on a sudden trip to south africa last year, the countless automobile accidents that have been brushed off as her ‘terrible’ driving skills, they are all her heroin. if you’re only on this earth for a handful of years, why not enjoy pressing that gas pedal to the floor & see how far you can go ??

— lust, euphoria, & chaotic control … these are the sins that drive her entire being. red lips kissed around a lit cigarette, smoke curling upwards, & eyes devouring the svelte body before her; indigo exudes an ominous & enticing aura, but that’s what is captivating about her. it’s her siren-like facade that pulls you in & refuses to let you go.

— she’s a drug, malignant & bewitching, her delicate words interlace w your inner demons, calling upon them & feeding your deepest, darkest desires. when she enters a room, all eyes fall to her, watching & analyzing. she enjoys to elicit fear or unease, to keep others watching her & following. her greatest fear is losing control of what she has, forbidden to uproot time &time again in search of her next greatest adrenaline rush ( which, by the way, she’s a total adrenaline junky ).

— most of these actions, of course, were highlighted thoroughly on television for several of her adolescent years when her family signed a multi-million dollar contract for a reality show … her family is basically the kardashians, ok ? while it may seem gr8 to have a television show & acquire fame through that, there were many downsides …. one of which was her father’s involvement in an embezzlement scheme before her eighteenth birthday ? bASICALLY his illicit actions & their outcome were showcased on national tv & that really had an impact on indi’s life ?? the tabloids already targeted her bc of her wild ways, but now the entire world was analyzing her family & talking shit which caused her to grow an even thicker shell & fight back with even more vicious words.

— but now 

— rn she is basically paris hilton on the simple life except a lil smarter, less juicy tracksuits, & she cut off basically all of her family to tRY to be normal on her own which ig is why she is here 

— she’s somewhat of a mad scientist when it comes to writing music ? like, full on goes rouge for a matter of days & locks herself away in a room with a bottle of tequila & a pack of marlboro lights. she carries around a lil leather black book with her at all times , where she will literally stop in the middle of whatever she’s doing ( whether that be a film shoot, a night at the club, during conversation ) just to write down her thought process or newfound muse. it includes everything from names, how an intimate kiss felt, poetry, colors, etc. there’s probably half-written songs within the pages. oH !! & she never, ever lets anyone touch it or read it … like, she would lose her absolute shit if it somehow got beyond her hands.

- but tbh she doesnt kno why she is studying communications when she could study music 

[greenfinches]

write the cindee fic u know u want to :/

:/

*

The first call happens on a Wednesday night.

She’s alone in the bar with the dregs of her fifth beer. Dennis is home and something in the universe has righted itself; Dee is a little buzzed, since she spent most of the day laughing and drinking and yelling at the top of her voice. She isn’t quite ready to sleep. She swirls one finger impatiently over the rim of her bottle as her phone rings, once, twice, until:

“What?”

Dee perks up.

“Hey,” she says. “Listen, that new place down the street is doing a deal on cocktails, so do you wanna meet there or at the -”

“Why are you calling me?” 

Dee frowns.

“You said we were going out tonight.”

“Yeah,” Cindy says, slowly. “I did. Before you chose your piece of shit brother over me and threw me out the bar.”

The warm haze in Dee’s stomach dies away without warning.

“You’re angry about that?”

“Jesus Christ, Dee.”

Dee swallows.

“It’s not like I meant any of it,” she insists. “Look, I was going along with the guys so they wouldn’t turn on me, it’s not a -”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Seriously?”

“I thought you knew!” Dee says - her own voice is rising now. “C’mon, don’t turn this into -”

“Well, I didn’t,” Cindy snaps. “And I’m not going out with you tonight. I’m not going out with you, period. We’re done.”

She hangs up before Dee can get in the last word. Somehow that’s the worst part.

Dee stares at her blank phone screen for a second, briefly entertaining the idea of smashing it against the wall or on the floor - and then she takes a long swig of her beer, letting it mute the anger that’s smarting, electric, in the tips of her fingers, and scrolls to the top of her contact list.

*

“Deandra,” Artemis drawls. “You are a bitch.”

It takes Dee a second or so to recover from the shots she just downed - like she’s stuck at the bottom of a pool, and the pool is filled with cheap tequila. She tilts her head up and closes her eyes until the world slides back into focus.

“You got me there,” she mumbles. There’s a bottle of water over on Arty’s side of the table that looks tantalising. She reaches for it and gets her hand slapped away.

“Help me fix it,” Dee whines. “C’mon, this - this is about… women. Helping other women. Or something. I don’t know.”

Artemis watches her for a long moment. There’s a bass line pulsing through the room, and the lights up above them flicker without any real sense of rhythm, and Artemis has a sly, thoughtful look on her face that makes Dee’s nerves rise.

“You liked her.”

“Oh, c’mon -”

“Did you kiss?” Artemis says, leaning across the table, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Any tongue? A passionate embrace?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Dee snaps. “Jesus, we weren’t -”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Artemis looks disinterested as she leans back in her chair. “Call her already.”

“I’m not listening to this,” Dee mutters. She slides unsteadily out of her seat and makes her way over towards the bar.

“Call her,” Artemis shouts at her back - Dee lifts up one finger in reply, not turning around. God, telling Artemis was a bad idea. Tequila was a bad idea. Most of her ideas, Dee is starting to realise, are bad ideas.

The bartender clears his throat.

“What can I get you?”

Dee sighs. She digs her wallet out her pocket.

“Vodka cranberry,” she says. “Three of them.”

*

The thing nobody tells you, Dee reflects, about sharing a big bed, is how empty it starts to feel when there’s only you in it.

You’re a terrible liar. It’s not true, but she can see how Artemis got there - how she saw the unmade bed and the fading bruise low on Dee’s throat, the new clothes in her closet that she didn’t buy herself, and she made assumptions - but she read the signs wrong. That’s all there is to it. The same way she reads Dee’s horoscope wrong, and her tea leaves, and her palm lines.

She could go out on the fire escape and have a stress cigarette. She could throw caution to the wind and order some late night takeout; mostly, though, she doesn’t want to do anything at all. Just lie here and watch the occasional flicker of car headlights reflect through the window and pass by on her ceiling.

The phone rings four times before it’s picked up.

“What do you want?”

Cindy’s voice is terse. Dee’s heartbeat jumps up. The rational part of her says to be cautious - and, naturally, the drunk part starts talking anyway.

“You should come back. To me, I mean. Not them. Fuck those guys.”

There’s a long pause.

“Dee, you agreed with those guys.”

So she’s in the mood to talk, at least. That’s progress.

“No, I didn’t,” Dee whines. She settles back on the pillows. “Seriously, I didn’t. You never gave me a chance to explain.”

“I think you explained everything perfectly.”

Cindy’s voice is all short and sharp. it’s kind of hot.

“Your voice is hot,” Dee tells her, because it seems like something Cindy should know. A sigh echoes down the phone.

“You’re drunk.”

It isn’t a question. Which is fair, really - because Dee’s always been a lightweight, even considering the alcoholism, and Cindy’s seen it first-hand enough times to know the signs. Still. She could at least pretend to play along.

“Yeah.” Dee shifts; closing her eyes, letting her legs fall a little further apart. “Are you?”

“What do you think?”

Dee laughs. She traces lazy spinning circles on one thigh with her free hand.

“That’s not how the game works,” she murmurs. “You never played twenty questions in high school, huh?”

Cindy stays quiet. Dee lets her fingers drift between her legs, just testing. Seeing what she has to work with.

“See, the rule is,” she says, “that you answer first. Since I asked first. And then you get to ask me whatever you want.”

There’s another pause. Dee’s almost convinced that she’s about to get hung up on, when:“I’m not drunk,” Cindy says.

Dee curls her fingers a little. Just enough so that she can arch up against them, biting down on her lip to keep quiet.

“Why do you keep calling me?”

It’s hard to keep the truth from slipping out. She manages it, though - just laughs instead, a little breathless, but hopefully Cindy will blame that on the alcohol.

“You’re nice to listen to.”

“Dee.”

“You’re nice to listen to,” Dee amends, “and you keep picking up. So.”

She’s got a rhythm going now: two fingers stroking up slowly, circling, pushing back down, slick and hot, not quite enough.

“Why haven’t you stopped, by the way?” She’s feeling bold. “D’you miss me?”

“I thought we were taking it in turns,” Cindy points out, dryly.

“Come over,” Dee says.

There’s a long silence. Dee tries to stay still but it’s too much, going from so much sensation to nothing all at once, and it’s like her thighs are moving on autopilot - hitching up so her fingers are pressed over her clit, and she lets out a soft, unintentional little gasp that she really, really hopes doesn’t carry down the phone line.

“Dee?”

Dee laughs again. Relief and disappointment curl through her all at once.

“Just drunk,” she says. “It’s nothing.” Then, a little softer: “Come over.”

There’s another pause.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m trying to be angry at you,” Cindy says, flatly.

“Trying to be,” Dee repeats. A spark flickers up in her chest. Cindy sighs.

“Go to bed.”

”Night, Cindy,” Dee murmurs.

Cindy goes quiet. She breathes in, then out. She hangs up.

Dee ends up finishing what she started in the shower - it’s easier, under the heat and pressure of the water, to pretend there’s a body pressed up against hers. She settles into bed again afterwards, curled on her side. Cindy’s voice is running through her head on repeat. She’d sounded warm when she’d said good night. Like how she used to talk. Dee misses how she used to talk.

Artemis is wrong about a lot of things. Horoscopes, tea leaves, and palm lines, mostly - but every so often she hits gold. You know you’re in trouble, Dee decides, a little muzzy with sleep, when you know which side of the bed is yours. And you’re really in trouble when you’re sleeping on the other half anyway, holding the pillow tight and breathing in the scent. 

The sheets still smell like her. Cindy picked up the phone. She stormed out the bar, sure, but it’s not like she went and crossed the state line. She said good night.

Dee smiles.