#please send asks to keep her busy she comes to me in the night

[dckweed]

Not sure if you're doing top gun requests right now, but if so, here's one. Rooster with a girl who is helping penny at the bar on a super busy night and there is some rowdy group who keeps calling her over and staring at her, and eventually they go too far and try to grab her but she just knocks one of them clean out and as the guys (hangman, fanboy, etc) is taking care of them, rooster takes her away bc she was about to go crazy on them lol. He's just like "that was so hot but you don't need to go to prison tonight."

baby i am always taking top gun requests. ooooh i love this idea so freaking much, thank you for choosing me to send it too, i absolutely do love it when you guys send things!

please note that i see every request that comes in and i am getting to them one at a time! with that being said, feel free to send one in!

anway, how are we all doing today? are we staying hydrated?

warnings: drinking, violence, inappropriate groping and harassment, bar fights, established relationship with rooster!

"BITCHLESS & DICKLESS' bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader

It was a busy Friday night at the Hard Deck, you and Penny the only two working and barely able to keep up with the constant flow of customers coming through, it only seemed to get even more crowded and rowdy when a small group of sailors fresh off the base come through, taking up a couple of the tables near the juke box. They signal you over and you make your towards them, order pad in hand incase they order more than just beer.

"Hey guys, how can i help you?" You ask, your voice upbeat and a smile on your face. It was sticky hot outside and you knew your shirt was clinging to your skin because of it, you tried not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious way two of the men were staring at you. "Eyes up here, fellas." You say, giving a playful angry look. You were used to being looked at, it kind of came with the job title of bartender, but that didn't mean that it didn't make you uncomfortable.

One of the men cocks a smirk at you, leaning back easily in his seat. "They'll have a round of Budweiser," He says, his eyes not leaving you once as he gestures towards his friends. "and i'll have your number, sweetness."

Before you can open your mouth to object politely, one of his buddies beats you to it. "Hey, Hanks, give some of us a chance with her damn." He chuckles flashing you a smile.

"How about none of you get a chance?" You say sweetly, laughing with his buddies. "I'll be back with the beers in a minute." You shake your head, walking back to the bar. You grab six cold beers from the ice box and start putting them on a serving tray.

"Those boys gonna be trouble?" Penny asks, maneuvering her way behind you with a few drinks of her own. You hadn't realized that she had heard the interaction.

"No, they'll be fine." You shake your head, glancing back over at the table as you pop the tops off of the bottles one by one. The one that had asked for your number, Hanks, was staring at you and talking to the rest of his friends at the same time. His gaze unsettled you, but you carried on with your job anyway. You make your way back over to them, planting your serving smile back on to your face as you start handing out their beers. "Alright fellas, let me know if there's anything else i can get you, okay?"

"That phone number is still wanted, honey." Hanks' friend says, taking a sip from his bottle. He shoots you a wink and manspreads in his chair, you perk an eyebrow at him. What was it with navy boys being so goddamn persistent?

"I'm sure it is honey," You say, your voice a little more stern on the matter this time around. "but my boyfriend sure wouldn't appreciate me giving it out to random navy boys that walk into my bar." You turn to head back towards the actual bar, where you see Penny starting struggle.

"I don't see him around, im sure what he don't know won't kill him!" Hanks voice calls after you, its almost admirable how persistent they are, it was afterall one of the more endearing qualities about your boyfriend when you first met him, although you had to say that he hadn't been nearly as uncomfortable as these boys were.

"Oh he'll be around!" You call back over your shoulder, not noticing that at that moment said boyfriend and his group of friends had walked through the front door of the bar. You didn't notice them for quite a few minuets, giving them plenty of time to get to their usual seats as you worked on the fresh wave of customers at the bar, mixing drinks and handing them out almost mechanically.

After around twenty minutes or so Bradley comes up to the bar, standing directly behind you, your back turned as you pour beer from the tap. "Here you g-Bradley!" You exclaim excitedly, nearly spilling the beer in your hands before you hand it to the man standing next to him.

"Hey baby," He says, his voice gruff and hoars, tired. He gladly accepts your kiss as you lean across the bar for it, pressing his lips against your own. He was still wearing his flight suit, and still covered in sweat, and a quick glance towards the others told you everything y ou needed to know.

"Rough day?" You look at him, eyes questioning as you get to work making their drinks. Whiskey neat for Jake, Scotch on the rocks for Bradley and Natasha and a pop for Bob, your favorite sober companion most evenings.

"You could say that," He says, a deep sigh leaving his chest as he watches you, already feeling more at ease. You didnt pry any farther, knowing he would tell you all about it in bed that night. "When are you off?"

You pout, coming around the bar with the drinks on a serving tray. "Not until nearly closing tonight," You say, walking with him towards the others. Bradley studiously takes the tray from you, ever the gentleman even on his roughest days, his arm brushing your shoulder as you walk. "Hey guys," You greet, giving Jake and Bob your usual friendly kiss on the cheek, and with a giggle you give one to Nat too when she taps hers and gives you a lopsided grin. You could tell by looks on their faces that they all needed a dose of happiness.

"Where's mine?" Bradley whines, hand on your hip possessively. You roll your eyes at him but lean up to kiss his waiting cheek anyway, adoring the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Awe come on Rooster, you get her all the time, let the rest of us have some." Natasha says, causing you to throw your head back in a laugh, leaning farther into your boyfriend. Your laugh was infectious and the whole group lets out a chuckle, you watch their bodies relax afterwards. "Might want to keep em coming, Y/N , it's been a rough one.."

Jake looks somewhere behind you, eyebrows pinched, stare hard. "Looks like you're in need, Y/N" He says, raising his whiskey to his lips to take a sip.

You look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on the group of sailors from earlier on the other side of the bar. "Those guys again," You sigh, grabbing your tray off the table.

Bob grabs your wrist before you go, and you furrow your brow at him. "Are those guys giving you a hard time?" He asks quietly, he knew Bradley was already on edge as it was and didn't want him looking for a fight.

"Nothing i can't handle, Bobby," You say, ruffling his hair with a wink before heading off towards the group, putting some pep back in your step. "Ready for round two already, fellas?"

The night drags on quickly and slowly all at the same time, customers come and go, drinks are made and made again and carried out to tables. The two main groups being your Boyfriend and the rest of the daggers and the group of boat boys who become more rowdy as the night drags on.

Bradley is already uneasy with them as it is, catching them staring at you one too many times and asking for your number more than once, to which you studiously turn them down, looking his way as if asking for help. He knew he would step in when needed, but he also hoped that didn't need to happen, he knew Penny would talk to Mav and Mav would talk his ear off about it tomorrow on base.

Your patience had more than worn thin, and you were counting down the minuets until your shift was over, hoping that the last half an hour would pass without any issues. Your hopes were wrong though.

You were bringing the group of boat boys another round of beers and a couple of waters and were just picking up the empties and placing them on your tray when you feel it, a large, sweaty hand sliding up the back of your thigh and right up onto your ass, giving it a heavy squeeze. Your eyes widen. "You wanna lose that fucking hand?" You ask, voice gruff as you stand up straight. The entire table quiets.

"What? Fly girl over there is good enough to squeeze this thick ass but i'm not?" Natasha had playfully smacked your ass on her way to the restroom a short time ago, something the two of you had grown close enough as friends to do. It had made you laugh, but this? Oh this was an entirely different ball game.

You see red, and off in the distance you hear Bradley and Jake both yell and the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor as they all get up abruptly. Youve done it before they can even reach you though. The tray drops from your grasp, your dominant hand balling up as the sound of shattering glass reaches your ears and your fist collides with Hanks' face, right between the eyes. You feel a sickening crunch under the force of the blow and blood spurts out of his nostrils as he slumps down, you had hit him hard enough to knock him out.

"What the fuck?!?" Bradley is next to you, arm out protectively as his friends all stand from their seats, ready to brawl over what you had done, even though their pig of a friend had done worse in your opinion. "Y/N?"

"Bitchless and Dickless over there can't catch a fucking hint!" You yell lunging for his friend. Rooster's arms hold you back though before you can make contact with him, the entire bar watches you scream and kick at the sailor as your boyfriend drags you out towards the parking lot. "Fucking assholes! Squeezed my fucking ass!"

Surprisingly, Bob is the first to throw a punch. He had been watching the idiots mess with you all night long along with Rooster. And after their long ass day he was just as ready to fight as the rest of them, infact, he actually took pleasure in what he did. His fist collides squarely with Hanks' friend and Natasha drags the already semi conscious asshole across the floor after you and Bradley, Penny coming to help her.

"Jesus christ baby, you started a fucking brawl!" Bradley laughs, opening the passenger door of the bronco, shoving all of his stuff onto the floorboard as he sets you up on the seat. "That was so fucking hot," He says, hearing police sirens in the distance already. "You have no idea how bad i want to fuck you right now but i can't have you going to jail tonight, buckle in tight baby.." He says, closing your door before running around to the drivers side, the only the thought on his mind is getting you home where you're safe and in your guys' bed, preferably underneath of him.

[fallatyourfeet]

No Negotiations (Thomas Shelby x Reader - One shot)

Summary: Tommy thought he had been very careful keeping his relationship with YN a secret, but no, his number one enemy had discovered you. And these things rarely playout well in the world of the Peaky Blinders.

Word count: 1807

Warnings: Quite a few F bombs and quite a bit of angst. Maybe it ends well, maybe it doesn't.

A/N: This fic was a request and it's been a long time coming. I'm so happy to finally post something again.

Gif: I don't know who this Gif belongs too, but I'd love to give credit to the creator if anyone knows.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

It was a particularly complicated time in Tommy’s life. There were a lot of different things going down. Dangerous things. And it most definitely was not a great time to be dating anyone. But YN wasn’t just ‘anyone’. To Tommy, she had very quickly and very unexpectantly, become everything. For the past year, it was YN that kept him sane during the whole fracture between his family. And with Luca Changretta still plotting his revenge against every single member of the Shelby clan, he thanked God that he had kept her completely separated from his family and business life. She was his escape. With her, his existence was simpler, uncomplicated. Cherished. Every secret second he stole by her side recharged him, settled him in ways he could never have imagined. Every night spent warming her bed gave him hours of blissful dreamless sleep. So, when he looked up from the ringside during the Goliath vs Bonnie Gold match to see her seat empty, he found himself unable to breathe.

Tommy started the night in good spirits, just happy knowing YN was there. Even if she was sitting anonymously across the opposite side of the hall, finding his thoughts already caught amongst the quiet moments he would steal away with her at the end of the night. When Arthur grew concerned of the men in Goliath’s corner, he urged him not to worry, to calm down and enjoy the match. And even when one of the men disappeared from ringside and Arthur felt the need to investigate, Tommy thought it was his older brother’s paranoia taking hold. But when Arthur didn’t return before the second man in Goliath’s corner slipped into the crowd, Tommy instantly found his stomach in knots, his eyes gravitating to YN’s seat.

It was empty.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe she had slipped away to the ladies. Or maybe she found herself completely disinterested in boxing and left to wait for him at their hotel room. Or maybe the growing knot in his stomach told him something much more unthinkable was taking place. Jumping from his seat, Tommy wasted no more time, easily slipping through the crowd, following the same path as Arthur.

It was unnervingly quiet walking down the passage and into the back rooms of the venue, Tommy barely registering the excitement of the crowd as it faded into the background. Only interested in the silence around him. But it was too much. Bellowing out both YN and Arthur’s name, his voice echoed and bounced off the tiled walls around him, his call answered by a gun shot. Tommy’s blood ran cold. The deafening sound vibrated through every cell in his body as if it had pierced his very flesh and Tommy couldn’t escape the hollow feeling that YN was somehow tangled in the mess.

Tommy moved desperately in and out of doorways in the direction of the gunshot, finding nothing. Until he turned the corner into a dimly lit room. But there was no mistaking what he saw, and he knew the scene before him would be forever burnt to his memory, causing him instantaneous regret. Arthur hunched over, visibly shaken as he clutched at his blood-stained neck, working hard to regain his breath. But he was alive. And beside him lay one of the men from Goliath’s corner, in a pool of his own blood, his face half blown away. But it was YN. Standing in that very same room, a room she was never supposed to be in, that had the regret burning like fire in his throat. Backed up against the cold tiled wall her whole body was trembling, arms outstretched as her hands clamped around Arthur’s pistol; knuckles white.

Tommy stepped into the room, startling her. Terrified, her trembling body swung around to face him, waving Arthur’s pistol unsteadily in his direction. All her features were overcome with fear, drained and washed out, his regret now burning bitter in his mouth. Moving towards her, he outstretched his hands, recognition dawning across her face. And when he whispered her name, she fell apart.

Simultaneously, the pistol slipped from her fingers, as her body slid down the wall, Tommy reaching her before she hit the floor, cradling her head, whispering against her ear, “It’s okay… you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Shaking his head, he found it hard to keep control of his voice, guilt ripping through his words, “I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry… I didn’t want this for you… I…” Tommy felt sick seeing her this way. Because of him, she had taken a man’s life, she didn’t deserve that kind of burden and there was nothing he could do to take it back.

“Tommy.” Arthur’s hoarse voice broke through his stupor. Looking across to his brother, he was no longer hunched over, but was instead standing before him, a steady stream of blood running from a gash to his neck. Speaking again, he gestured to the body on the floor, his words rough and strained, “I don’t know who the hell she is, Tommy, but he was tryin’ to drag her out the fuckin’ door.” Running blood-stained hands through his hair, he rubbed the back of his head, “I ripped her from his grip, but he fuckin’ got me Tommy, he had me… I’d be dead. She saved my fuckin’ arse.”

Tommy shuddered, not even allowing himself to think about what might have happened if Arthur didn’t reach her in time, all while he was too busy ignoring his brother’s concerns. Sudden gratitude spilled from his mouth, “Thank you, Arthur. You were right… I didn’t listen, but you were fucking right.”

Arthur crouched down, and whispered as if there were people in the room who could listen, “Who is she Tommy, and what does Changretta want with her?”

Surely the fact that he was on the ground cradling YN was explanation enough, but Tommy answered anyway, “She’s my girlfriend… I love her… that’s the all reason he needs.” And it was those words as they left his lips, that brought about an instant and upsetting decision.

Luca Changretta was no longer a threat. He had been dealt with in the most final way. Until the moment Arthur unloaded a bullet into his head, Changretta thought both Arthur and YN were dead, leaving Tommy’s exit plan for the mafia boss sailing through without a hitch. But there was still one thing left for Tommy to do. Something that tore at his insides, just thinking about it. But there was no other choice.

It was necessary.

Staring at YN’s front door, he took a deep breath, unable to put it off any longer. Lifting the iron knocker, he tapped it against the timber and cleared his throat, waiting for the sound of her footsteps and yet, hoping not to hear them. Never had he waited at her door with such trepidation, any stress or worries usually melted away the moment his eyes caught sight of her house. Always far too confident that he’d never been seen. God, he had been so fucking stupid.

YN opened the door with one of her breathtaking smiles, she was not going to make this easy. Fuck, he was going to miss those smiles. Burning the image to memory, he went to speak, but she leaned forward and planted a kiss to his lips, her sweet voice announcing, “Thomas Shelby… you’re late, you’re never late.” Tommy inhaled deeply, knowing that soon enough he wouldn’t be able to recall the sound of her voice, when what he really wanted was to wake up to it every single morning.  

Internally nodding, Tommy realised she was right, he had been putting this meeting off all afternoon, and when she stepped aside to let him come in, he found his feet cemented to her doorstep, his voice lost upon his lips. Seeing his hesitation, her features suddenly clouded with apprehension and concern. And it tore him to shreds. “What’s wrong, Tommy? What happened?” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him inside, sitting them both down in the parlour, “Tell me, what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t want to be inside her house, he wanted to drop the news and leave, but she deserved more, so much more. Chewing on his lip, he inhaled deeply and cleared his throat, working hard to keep his voice convincing, “YN… I… I can’t be with you anymore.” YN jumped from the seat as if he’d slapped her. Tommy’s eyes shifted to the floor, concentrating on a scratch in the timber beside his foot, “It’s not safe anymore… people know who you are now… I… I’d never survive if something happened to you... I’d never forgive myself.”

“Tommy!” A few seconds of silence followed before she called his name again, “Tommy… you need to look at me!” This was not a good idea, no good could come from seeing her face, but how could he deny her? After everything she had given him over the past year. All those stolen moments and blissful memories… memories that would keep him functioning during all the lonely nights that would follow without her.

Lifting his head, he kept his gaze unfocused, worried her expression might destroy his resolve. Not that it mattered, her words and tone conveyed everything. She was furious. But she didn’t raise her voice once. “No… No Tommy.” Her comment snapped his eyes into focus and the determination he saw; on her face; in her posture, it took him by surprise.

Shifting in his seat, he couldn’t think, couldn’t stop the internal wall of his will from crumbling, with every word she spoke. “I won’t let you do this. I could die crossing the road today. I could get sick tomorrow and die next week. I could die giving birth or fall asleep and never wake up.” Drawing a breath, she shook her head, it was barely noticeable, “People die every day, Tommy, there’s nothing we can do about it, but I’m not going to let you give me up.”

Knealing down, her hands enveloped his face, demanding his attention, “I’m not going to miss out on a life with you, how ever long or short that may be… Do you not think I’m terrified of losing you too?”

Tommy shook his head, but his wall of resolve was gone, and he knew the words he spoke were no more than white noise, “My life… it’s dangerous… Just being with me is-”

Losing patience, she cut his white noise short with unyielding hands, refusing to let him look away. Her eyes were fierce. And her decision was final. There would be no negotiations. “Just shut up Tommy, stop talking. I love you. And I know you love me…. I’m not stupid, I know the risk I’m taking. But for you, I’m willing to take it.”

[ashwhowrites]

Hey, if you hadn't already done something like this, I was wondering if you'll write Eddie x Popular!Henderson!R, where they're sneaking around behind Dustin's back.... 1. Because Dustin looks up to him and they're friends and 2. She's not ready to let everyone know just yet (wanting to live in ignorant bliss just a little while longer before she falls under scrutiny for falling for "the freak").

And so, when one of her friends decides to hook her up on a date, she can't exactly refuse, so she goes along with it to shut her up, without letting Eddie know, of course. And during a game of dnd, Dustin let's it slip where you are for the night, unknowingly sending Eddie into a spiral, thinking she's cheating and that's why she wants to keep them a secret and after having an internal battle, he cuts the campaign short, surprising everyone, and he crashes her date, with hellfire in toe, demanding answers. And then everyone finds out and she explains blah blah and they live happily ever after. Sorry, this was long xx

This was so fun! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Dustin's friend

When Dustin said he found a new friend, that was yet again years older than him, Y/N wasn't too pleased. First, it was Steve, and now a guy named Eddie. But when Y/N met Eddie for the first time, she couldn't care less about the age gap between him and her brother, all that mattered was that he was around her age and single.

Eddie still wasn't sure how he managed to get Dustin's hot popular sister to go out with him. Whatever he did, he thanked god for it because having Y/N on his lap with her tongue down his throat was his heaven.

"Missed you so much," Y/N whined, her hips moving against Eddie's as she yanked off his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed you too." Eddie moaned as Y/N sucked down his chest. She left her marks to travel south until she was just above his boxers.

"MOM WANTS YOU," Dustin screamed as he pounded on Y/N's locked door.

"Damn it," Eddie sighed and hung his head.

"BE RIGHT THERE," Y/N screamed back, she sighed and stood up. She handed Eddie his shirt with a sad smile. "Sorry, Eds."

"Fuckers are giving me blue balls. Are you sure we can't tell him? Maybe he'd stop interrupting as much." Eddie glared towards the door. He stood up and threw on his jeans.

"You know I'm not ready for all of that yet." Y/N sighed.

"Fine, I'll go home and finish the old-fashioned way." Eddie joked, smirking as he walked backward to her window, his eyes on her.

"Maybe I'll come over and join you, later." She winked. She kissed Eddie goodbye and waited for him to leave. Then she went to see what her mom wanted.

~~~

Y/N knew hiding her relationship with Eddie was hard and tiring. And she felt guilty every time she had to act like Eddie wasn't everything to her. But she was scared. She was scared to take away Dustin's friend, worried she overstepped. She was terrified it would ruin their friendship because of the bro code. And selfishly, she was scared of the damage it would do to her social life.

"I'm telling you, he has been begging me for a date with you. You are single and have no reason to say no." Chrissy whined.

"My reason to say no is that I don't want to," Y/N said, rolling her eyes as she slammed her locker shut.

She whined when Chrissy followed.

"Like you have anything going on tomorrow night, anyway?" Chrissy argued, her eyes taunting.

Y/N technically had nothing going on tomorrow, Dustin and Eddie had hellfire so both boys were busy.

"Stop thinking of an excuse and just go. Then if you hate it, I will never set you up again." Chrissy promised.

"Deal," Now Y/N could get Chrissy off her back.

~~~

"We are kicking ass today! I wish Y/N were here to see it." Dustin cheered. Y/N had spent more time watching Hellfire since she had to pick Dustin up anyway.

"Why isn't she?" Eddie asked, he prayed it sounded casual. He read ahead on his notes to look like he didn't care too much.

"On a date." Dustin shrugged, playing his next move. No one had the table had any idea that sentence sent Eddie into a panic. Sweat on his forehead as his leg shook beneath the table.

His girlfriend was on a date, with another guy.

It all made sense, she wanted him to be a secret because she was seeing someone. Dustin knew about the guy, and he couldn't know about Eddie. Because then her secret would be exposed. Like it just was.

"Where?" Eddie snapped, his angry tone had the table looking at him in seconds.

"Enzo's," Dustin said confused.

"Get in the van," Eddie snapped as he grabbed his keys.

~

The rest of hellfire sat confused as Eddie raced to the restaurant. He was silent but gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white. The boys followed as Eddie stormed out of the van and into the restaurant.

Eddie felt a wave of heartache flood in his chest when he saw her with him with his own eyes. She looked beautiful as she talked about something he couldn't hear.

"Why are we here? Why do you care about my sister?" Dustin asked, but Eddie already was moving.

His heavy boots hit the floor hard, and his hand slammed on the table. The couple jumped and fear showed in Y/N's eyes when Eddie leaned down to her level.

Face to face, Eddie's hard breathing smacked Y/N's face. She twiddled her thumbs nervously as she saw hellfire behind him. Her brother watching with confusion.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" She said through clenched teeth, trying to keep the conversation between them.

"Demanding why the fuck my girlfriend is on a date with another guy." Eddie snapped, his eyes dark as he glared at her. She knew he had every right to be mad, but she didn't want a scene.

She stood up, and Eddie straightened up. His eyes haven't left her, not even glancing at the stranger across from her.

"Can I please explain later? In private." She whispered, her eyes looking over Eddie's shoulder as the boys watched.

"No, I'm tired of this private shit. Explain right here, right now. Or we are done." Eddie threatened. He didn't want to break up, he wished on every star above him there was a way to make this relationship work.

"Eddie please." She whispered, her watery eyes pleading for him to back off until they could talk. "Not right now in front of everyone." Eddie tried to ignore her tears, not letting himself get sucked into her guilt trap.

"Fine, forget it. I'll see you around, Henderson." Eddie said coldly as he nodded and backed off. Y/N felt frozen in her spot as Eddie went out the door.

"Y/N?" Dustin spoke up, his hand reaching towards her.

In seconds she was running out the door.

"What is going on?" the random date asked.

"Shh man," Mike said, sliding into the booth next to him. He pointed out the window, a clear view of the couple. The boys followed, all sitting in the big booth as they stared out the window.

~

"I'm sorry! I got scared but please." Y/N cried as she tugged on Eddie's arm.

"Scared because you got caught. I can't believe you could do this to me. What about all that love bullshit? This is what you do when you love someone?" Eddie argued, hot tears in his eyes.

"I do love you! Nothing between us is bullshit. Chrissy was on my back for weeks about going on a date with this guy! I never agreed until she said If I went on it, she'd never do it again! I promise you I was just trying to get her off my back. I was going to tell her I hated it and finally have peace of just being with you."

"You know what else brings peace? Finally admitting to other people that you are in love with me," Eddie said sadly, "I'm tired of being your secret. I can't keep doing it."

Y/N sobbed as she reached forward and held his face in her hands.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I'll tell Dustin and everyone. Please just give me a chance to make this up to you." Y/N begged, Eddie sniffled as he looked into her eyes.

"I love you too," he smiled, and Y/N felt relief in her bones. "You took a chance on me, so I'll take the chance on you."

Y/N smiled and leaned forward, Eddie met her halfway and smashed his lips on hers. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

~

"Oh my god!" The boys all said at once, the random date was long gone.

"Eddie and my sister?"

"Dude! Eddie is banging your sister!" Mike teased

"Is he touching her ass?" Lucas gasped as he moved closer to the window

"Oh, that is so much tongue." Gareth chuckled.

"Our boy is making out with a popular girl!" Jeff cheered, high fives all around the table, except for Dustin who sat in a state of shock.

~

"YOU ARE SCREWING MY SISTER?"

Eddie and Y/N jumped as Dustin screamed.

"DUSTIN!" Y/N screamed as Dustin ran straight into Eddie and took him to the ground.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

[sailoryooons]

Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences. 

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end. 

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night. 

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it. 

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property.  Let’s try to play nice and show face. 

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do. 

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl. 

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.” 

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway. 

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts. 

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer. 

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right. 

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him. 

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.” 

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.” 

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.” 

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound. 

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top. 

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well. 

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed. 

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom. 

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely. 

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck. 

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone. 

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal. 

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house. 

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced. 

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly. 

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses. 

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel. 

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops. 

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning. 

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients. 

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store. 

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time. 

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes. 

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in. 

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required. 

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm. 

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you. 

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space. 

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too. 

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work. 

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms. 

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room. 

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time. 

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back. 

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you. 

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.” 

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.” 

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of  your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.” 

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.” 

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for. 

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning. 

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability. 

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly. 

So he does. 

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly. 

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you. 

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds. 

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees. 

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no. 

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs. 

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead. 

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it. 

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to. 

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you. 

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.” 

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.” 

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.” 

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair. 

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out. 

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.” 

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful. 

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough. 

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?” 

“Fuck yeah, Angel.” 

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him. 

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him. 

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching. 

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home. 

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier. 

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything. 

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love. 

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day. 

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.” 

-

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake. 

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be. 

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time. 

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder. 

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.” 

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it. 

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth. 

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have. 

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to. 

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself. 

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters. 

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself. 

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now. 

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him. 

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner. 

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers. 

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile. 

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head. 

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin. 

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator. 

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly. 

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away. 

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning. 

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip. 

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement. 

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left. 

-

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt. 

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen. 

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something. 

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss. 

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle. 

Money. This man has money. 

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately. 

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either. 

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.” 

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder. 

“I will fucking kill you.” 

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast. 

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.” 

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.” 

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen. 

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life. 

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is. 

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.” 

“Okay.” 

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“See you soon.”

-

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat. 

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood. 

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin. 

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe? 

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi. 

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.” 

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting. 

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead? 

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated. 

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again. 

-

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost. 

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm. 

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have. 

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage. 

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it. 

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live. 

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple. 

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off. 

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried. 

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined. 

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety. 

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Click. Squeeze. Bang. 

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand. 

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang. 

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels. 

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified. 

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!” 

“That’s it, keep talking to me.” 

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!” 

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths. 

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?” 

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place. 

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather. 

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off. 

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun. 

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.” 

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

-

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you. 

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home. 

Home. 

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare. 

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now. 

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only. 

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense. 

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this. 

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling. 

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.” 

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching. 

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk. 

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs. 

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle. 

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him. 

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver. 

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good. 

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good. 

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you. 

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking. 

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.” 

“Fuck.” 

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself. 

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.” 

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.” 

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.” 

“Mmm.” 

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying. 

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock. 

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad. 

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity. 

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?” 

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.” 

“Shit shit shit shit.” 

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it. 

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin. 

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest. 

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.” 

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and  the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.” 

[totalswag]

how much did you drink? — RAFE CAMERON

authors note hi loves!! i know i disappeared for awhile, my personal life got extremely busy and i never had time to write on my computer. i'm so excited to be back and writing for you guys though. this fic has been in my google doc for small minute and i got a request from an anon somewhat similar to this fic too, lol.

summary y/n getting a little too drunk at a party and rafe has to come pick her up

warnings drinking, swearing, smoking, sexual tension, implied smut?

Lets face it, you were drunk, like really drunk.

You made the decision to come out on a Saturday night with Sarah to John B’s. People dancing, making out everywhere, smoking, drinking, along with loud music.

As the night progressed you were on the table dancing with your best friend with bottles of tequila in your hands, everyone cheering you two on as you continued dancing.

“I’m having so much fun tonight” your words are slurring at this point. 

“Me too,” your friend giggled.

Topper and Kelce shook their heads while they stood near the kitchen. Rafe, your boyfriend, told Topper and Kelce to watch you simply because he wasn't at the party.

“She's about to do something dumb” Topper murmurs, and Kelce nods in agreement.

Kelce replies, "I think it's time we called Rafe."

Topper calls Rafe, while Kelce tries to get you off the table but fails when you say no and to go away so you can drink more. Kelce turns around, sending Topper the clear message that Rafe needs to arrive as quickly as possible.

"Yo, Rafe, sorry for bothering you, but Y/N is really drunk and dancing on the table, and she won't listen to us" Topper scratched his chin, glancing at Kelce, who was attempting to get you off the table.

"Are you being serious?" Rafe must have been in a deep sleep based on the sound of his voice. 

"Yeah, could you pick her up?" He begs.

Topper can hear Rafe's end shifting, "I'll be there soon, just keep an eye on here, please." Rafe sighs and hangs up the phone. 

Meanwhile, Topper and Kelce were eventually able to get you off the table by claiming a drinking game was about to begin, which was correct. You stood in the kitchen with the guys and few other friends watching while others set out the red solo cups on the board.

Your friends came into the kitchen to see what you were doing and they were worried about you because they couldn’t find you.

"These two have me on lock down so I don't drink anymore but oddly waiting to play a drinking game," you add, staring at the girls before wandering your gaze over to Kelce and Topper, who are in the middle of a conversation with a few of their buddies.

Your friends laugh, shaking their heads, telling you, you should still be drinking and having fun.

"I'm so drunk right now, it's not even funny," you hiccuped as your body swayed back and forth, almost knocking you off your feet.

Topper leaned over the counter, grabbing you before you fell.

"Y/N, please drink the water," he says as he puts the water bottle out to you, you look at him, shaking your head as you push it away with your hand.

"Drink the water now, Y/N, we're going home," your boyfriend said, filling your ears. You circle around, placing your arms around his waist, excited. 

"You guys are no fun," you scoff.

"That hangover isn't going to be fun in the morning," Rafe responds. 

“How much did you drink baby?” he asks, lifting your chin up, making eye contact with you.

“I drank a lot and smoked too” you answered truthly, hiccuping.

"You are so hot, I could just fu-" you run your hands down his stomach, removing his shirt a little and gliding your hands on his exposed skin. Rafe stopped you before you could complete your sentence.

Usually when you drink too much and Rafe’s around you get very touchy with him and start saying unholy words from your mouth which leads to fucking or you need to really sober up. You can’t stop but think of how good he looks right now.

Rafe comes to these types of parties with you but tonight he wasn’t feeling it. He trusts you going to parties with your friends or the guys cause he knows you would never do anything that can hurt your relationship.

"All right, that's enough for the night. "Seriously, drink the water," he says, twisting the cap and handing you the water to sip. You realized nothing else would work, so you drank the water.

Rafe watched as you drank the water. When you get this drunk no one else can handle you unless it’s Rafe because he’s been around you enough to know. Your best friends get drunk with you so them being drunk trying to help you too doesn’t make the situation better.

When you finished the water, you wrapped your arms around Rafe, nuzzling your face in his chest mumbling words. He took it as a sign that you were ready to leave the party.

“We’ll walk you two out” Topper suggested to Rafe.

“Yeah that would be helpful, thank you” picking you up in braid style.

You lifted your head from Rafe's chest, confused as to why he began guiding you from the kitchen to the front door. "Why are we leaving?" you asked as you pulled away. "I want to stay," you protest, pointing back to your friends. 

Rafe sighs, closing his eyes, "baby you are drunk and have been drinking a lot" he pauses, "you need to rest too" you pout.

“Say goodnight to them real quick,”

When you walk back to the kitchen your friends eye’s light up but faces drop when you tell them you were saying goodnight. They told you to be safe and see you tomorrow.

“I better get dick out of this” you sarcastically state, making the girls laugh.

“I love you girls” you wave as you leave the kitchen.

You flip Rafe off as you walk past him, giving him a blank stare. He throws his hands in the air, shaking his head, then follows you out the door.

The car ride to his house took five minutes. You were knocked out in the passenger seat curled up in a ball. You woke up when you felt the truck come to a complete stop. Rafe opened the door, carrying you inside.

You start singing a song from the party when you enter the Cameron household. Rafe chuckled as he locked the door then came behind you.

“You need to stay quiet because everyone's sleeping,” Rafe whispered softly.

“Oh my bad” you quickly stop, putting your hand over your mouth.

He lays you on his bed and goes in his closet for clothes for you. He comes back with sweats and one of your favorite t-shirts of his. Before you could lift your shirt, he stopped you.

“Let me do it please” he kisses your cheek.

He led you into the bathroom to remove your makeup and then dab water on your face to freshen it up before taking you into bed. When you spent the night, there was Advil and ice water on your side of the bed. 

Rafe could tell you were still drunk by your facial expressions.

In your drunken state, seeing the Advil and water on the nightstand warms your heart, "Thank you baby," you look up, then pop the Advil in your mouth and take a long sip of the water. 

"Need to make sure my girl is okay," he grins.

"How about we get into bed and sleep?" He then pulls you both into bed.

You quickly close your eyes when your head makes contact with his chest.

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[juniperskye]

Too Sweet.

Based on the following ask from @reidstheyfriend : Hotch x innocent/sunshine! Reader

I got this idea listening to Too Sweet by Hozier. I just immediately think of Hotch when listening to the song. I feel like Hotch would think he’s too broken or traumatized for reader because she’s so sweet and her heart is full of love and joy and that’s something he loves about her. He’s worried he would corrupt her and that she deserves better. So, most of the fic I would say it’s Hotch longing for reader but putting distance between them. Until he can no longer take it anymore. He needs her. He loves her.

I especially see the line where Hozier is talking about working late away from the phone and it makes her worry. I see reader calling/texting Hotch at late hours because she’s worried about him and he is too caught up in work to see her calls/texts.

Italics -text message

Hotch x innocent/sunshine! GN Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 1206

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Aaron really doubting his worth, BAU canon typical violence, mention of Haley and Jack, reader has a sister, no use of y/n, no pronouns used for reader, pet names (honey, baby, sunshine) let me know if I missed any!!

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Sunshine, you deserve so much more. I’m so sorry. I just, I want you to be with someone better, someone good.” Aaron said, his voice faltering.

“Aaron, wait. Let’s talk about this.”

Your heart broke at the sight of him. Aaron looked completely and utterly wrecked. You had a pretty good feeling that you knew his reasoning behind this conversation. Aaron had always called you his sunshine, he had said that you brought light into his life that had been long since dulled. You knew that Aaron had this fear of dulling your light, but you knew that wasn’t the case…you thought back to some of the things that had happened in the last few months that may have led Aaron here.

*Three Weeks Earlier*

Aaron had been working late, it had been a local case that was time sensitive. You knew this meant it was most likely a hostage situation or a child abduction, these cases didn’t offer a chance for the team to head home and sleep.

You had been keeping up with the case as much as the news and texts from Garcia would allow. You hadn’t heard from Aaron in a few hours, which wasn’t totally uncommon, however, Garcia had told you that the case had been solved and the team had been dismissed for the evening.

You figured he must be finishing up the reports and decided you send him a text before heading to bed for the night.

Hey baby, I know you’re working, I just wanted to text and let you know I am heading to bed. Jack wanted me to tell you he loved you when you got home, but I’m not sure when that’ll be. Honey, don’t work too hard…come home soon. I love you so much.

You hit send and set off to your room, after brushing your teeth, you slid into bed. After tossing and turning for a little bit, you hopped out of bed and moved to your dresser. You pulled out one of Aaron’s t-shirts and changed into it, adding a spray of his cologne. After taking a deep breath, your body immediately relaxed, and you climbed back into bed.

It was after three in the morning when Aaron came through the door. He made sure to be as quiet as possible as he moved through the apartment. He quickly checked in on Jack and then made his way to your room. His heart clenched as he saw you curled up in his shirt, clutching his pillow. He changed his clothes and brushed his teeth quickly before climbing into bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. You shifted closer to him and he pressed a gentle kiss to your neck.

*Two Weeks Earlier*

Aaron had been home for about two hours and in that time, he’d greeted you, grabbed a whiskey and gone straight into his office. Things at the BAU had been extremely busy, this had been the first night Aaron had been home in three weeks. All you wanted was to have him by your side while you slept tonight.

“Aaron, honey, why don’t you come to bed? It’s nearly daylight.” You suggest.

“I, know sunshine, I’m sorry. I’m almost done!”

“Aaron…”

He looked up at you, finally noticing the exhaustion in your expression. He clicked his mouse a few more times, signed one last form, then got up. He made his way to you and wrapped his arm around you.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Aaron said as he placed a kiss to your temple.

Things had been like this more often than not, Aaron consistently working late, be it at home or the BAU. He’d be up until dawn, sipping his whiskey neat, going over paperwork. You’d fallen into this pattern where you’d be waking up in time to say goodnight to him. Knowing he’d have to get up pretty soon, you’d make his coffee, not that it took much, he drank it black. Aaron would get up, make his way to the kitchen, grab his coffee, and give you a kiss as thanks.

“Sunshine, you are as bright as the morning.” Aaron smiles.

“Honey...” You’d blush.

*Present Day*

“Sunshine, there’s nothing more to talk about. I’m not good for you. You have stayed up waiting for me, time and time again. You consistently have to go to bed without me, have dinner without me. I mean last month alone I missed three dates, two of Jack’s soccer games, and the Halloween party at your sister’s.” Aaron trailed on.

“Aaron, honey, it’s okay. It happens. The BAU is a busy job, you’re literally making the world a safer place.”

You could see the emotions flashing across Aaron’s face. The inner turmoil he was currently experiencing made you reach out to him, gently placing your hand on his cheek. He brought his hand up to cover your own, leaning into your touch.

“Sunshine I just want you to be happy. You should be with someone who has time to show you how wonderful you are, someone who doesn’t miss dates.”

“Aaron, don’t you get it? You have made me so incredibly happy in the time we have been together. I got into this relationship knowing full well that you would be extremely busy and that you might miss some things…but that doesn’t bother me. Honey you show me your love and appreciation every single day. You have my favorite flowers delivered once a week, that way I’ll always have fresh ones. You leave me sticky notes on the bathroom mirror with sweet notes, so I’ll have a good start to my day. You put my towel on the warmer so I can be extra cozy when I get out of the shower. You make me lunch each morning, so I don’t have to. This relationship is so much more than missed dates and waiting up honey. You are an honest, kind, loving man, Aaron you deserve to be loved.”

Tears were falling from both you and Aaron. You just wished that Aaron could see himself through your eyes. After things with Haley, he truly had never been the same, he feared that his love only brought destruction. It had taken months of dates and persuasion (from Dave) to get Aaron to ask you to be his. The longer Aaron had been with you, the more he thought that he didn’t deserve your love. You were the best person he knew; you could bring a smile to anyone’s face through your presence alone. He couldn’t let his darkness cloud your sunshine. And yet here you were, proving to him that he too had light, light that he had brought to you.

“I’m sorry sunshine. I just, I get in my head. You’re just so good.”

“Aaron it’s okay, as long as you don’t still plan on calling this quits.”

“I’m not going anywhere sunshine. I can’t promise I won’t doubt myself ever again, but I can promise that I am here for the long haul.” Aaron squeezed your hand gently.

“Well, that’s good because you are stuck with me.” You smiled.

“You’re too sweet for me.” Aaron said before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: another week...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Bucky leaves, you feel less than relief. It’s easier to breathe without him around but your heart continues to race. You don’t move until you see him drive away. You steel yourself with the manufactured lie before you go back inside. 

As you do, you’re surprised to find Roxie beside your mom, both of them close to the front window. You sigh. Were they watching? You guess you can be thankful Bucky hadn’t done more than talk. 

Your mom faces you with a sheepish grin, “so... did you get it?” 

You look between her and your sister. Roxie has her phone in hand and an arch in her eyebrow, “I’d die for a boss like that.” 

“I...” you glance the screen before she can hide it. Oh. She had a picture of him pulled up on Google. So, they both know exactly who he is. 

“He must be really hands on if he came all the way down here to offer you a job,” Roxie tilts her head. 

“That’s the sign of a good boss,” your mom insists.  

“Really, I think his eyes were the kicker. So blue.” 

“Rox,” your mom nudges her. “A man like him, he’s got line ups, I’m sure. Besides, she’s too young for him.” 

“Well, I’m older,” Roxie smirks, “maybe she can get me a job too.” 

“Er, uh,” you wring your hands, “I should start dinner.” 

“You didn’t say if you go the job,” Roxie challenges. 

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “I got a job. Just cleaning.” 

“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” you mom assures as she comes to you. She puts her hands on your shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Mom,” you try not to look pained as you return her smile, “it’s nothing. Really. A cleaner.” 

“We all gotta start somewhere.” 

“Yeah,” Roxie scoffs, “most of us a lot sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” your mom lets you go to spin on your sister, “don’t rain on her parade.” 

“Whatever. I’d rather hand out flyers than clean toilets,” she rolls her eyes. 

You purse your lips and shy away. You feel worse that they believe you so easily and why wouldn’t they? No one would think that someone like you would merit such a preposterous offer from a man like Bucky. You still can’t really believe it. 

Maybe it’s just some twisted hallucination. You could wake up tomorrow and be just like you were before. You never thought you would long for that but now, being alone, being the loser, that feels safe. Being noticed, being someone, that’s terrifying. 

🃏

You take your time making dinner, a brief escape from reality. The distraction keeps you busy enough that your chest stops thrumming, yet your nerves are still spastic. You’re not very hungry once it’s done but you make yourself eat. 

Roxie heads off for work shortly after you gather up the dirty dishes and your mom goes to change into her pajamas. She startles you as you scour the pan you used to bake the chicken. You splash yourself and hiss. 

“Sorry, hon, I was just coming to check on you,” she leans against the counter, “you’re nervous, aren’t you?” 

You shrug, to fraught to answer. 

“You get restless, I can tell. You do everything just to keep from fidgeting,” she says, “it’s going to be okay. You’ll be just fine and you’ll see, it’ll be nice to have your own money.” 

“I know, mom,” you murmur, turning your face down to the sink, “it’s not that I don’t want to work, I just... I guess it’s the change that freaks me out.” 

“Change is good, even if it’s scary,” she says. “You’ll see.” 

“Mm,” you hum and try not to shatter, “I just want to help out.” 

“Hon, you worry about yourself. Please--” 

“No, I owe you.” 

“Owe me? I’m your mother. I just wish I could give you more,” she smiles and squeezes your arm. “If you’re not some busy working girl, we’ll celebrate on my day off.” 

“Sure,” you accept grimly. 

She leaves you and you’re silent as you finish up the dishes. You put them away and wipe the counters. When you finish, you shut off the lights. You say good night from the doorway and retreat into your room. Tomorrow. That’s all he said. That’s the only detail you go before he strolled off. 

You grab your phone and fall back on your bed. All you want is to lose yourself in a fic or a discussion board or even just scrolling mindlessly. You can’t. It’s like he’s taking over everything. There it is, that little icon you rarely see, a new message.  

You pull down the menu and stare at the preview. Two hours ago. You’re surprised he didn’t show up to check why you hadn’t answered. Again. You will at least need to send something before the night is over. 

‘Hey doll. I’ll send a car tomorrow morning at nine. Just bring yourself.’ 

You shudder and stare at the blue bubble around the text. Oof. Nine? That’s early for you. You suppose it’s about time you break that bad habit. 

‘Sorry. I was making dinner. Nine is good. Thank you.’ 

You hit send and put your phone down. You slide your laptop across the bed and open it up. You’ll watch something. That old BBC drama you found on the free streaming service has been pretty interesting, but you think you only have one episode left. That’s good, you can’t be up all night. 

Your phone buzzes. Shoot. Alright. You can do this. You have to get to it. You swipe up your phone again, surprised to find it’s still shaking.

Oh no. He’s calling! 

You panic and nearly hit decline before you manage to drag your thumb the other way. You put the phone to your ear, unable to muster even a squeak. What do you say? 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky’s voice drawls from the speaker, “hope I didn’t interrupt dinner.” 

“No, er, we’re done.” 

“Ah, and are you alone?” 

You frown, “yes?” 

“Good, good. Isn’t that sweet of you, cooking dinner for your family. That’s what I like about you. You take care of those you love.” 

You gulp. You don’t know what to say. 

“What was for dinner?” He asks as you hear a soft rustle. 

“Um, chicken and potatoes,” you answer bluntly. It’s an easy question. 

“You’re not busy or something?” He wonders. 

“Uh uh,” you shake your head even though he can’t see, “I’m just... in bed.” 

“Early night, huh?” He asks. 

“I guess, I was going to watch a show.” 

“Right, right,” he clicks his tongue as something taps followed by other indiscernible movements, “you in your pajamas? Bet those are cute?” 

“Not... yet,” you croak. 

“Mmm,” he purrs, “I just got out of the shower.” 

“You... did?” 

“Getting ready for tomorrow,” he explains, “gotta admit, I’m a bit impatient. You’ll see that about me, doll. When I want something, it’s hard to wait.” 

“Uh, oh...” you stutter out. 

“For you, I can,” he vows, “doll, do me a favour.” 

“A favour?” You echo thinly. 

“Mmm, yeah, I want you to get in your pajamas and send me a picture. Just to tide me over,” he coaxes. 

“A picture?” You open your eyes wide and gape at the wall. 

“Sure, just a taste. I wanna know what I should imagine next to me when I lay down.” 

“What?” You squeak, shocked by his insinuation. Imagining you?! 

“I can’t help myself. It’s lonely here.” 

“I...” you pick at your lower lip, “one sec. I... I gotta...” 

You put the phone on the bed and push yourself off the mattress. You trip on your own feet and hope he can’t hear you stumbling around. Your pajamas are kind of silly. You don’t really have any sexy ones. Maybe if he sees them, he’ll change his mind. 

The only matching pair you have have snoopy on the top and a large check bottom on the pants. You fish them out and change. It’s okay. He can’t see you at that moment. Still, it feels like he is watching you. Just as his presence has lurked around you all day. 

You go back to your phone and fumble around, “sorry, I... just... figuring out the camera.” 

You hear his timbre but can’t make out his words from the small speaker. You open the camera app and flip the camera. You move around, trying to take the pic, and lean the phone on the top of your dress. You angle it and mutter to yourself as you struggle to set the timer. 

You take several pictures before you’re not entirely discontent. You look awkward in all of them. The pants, like all your pants, are too long and gather around your feet. You don’t know how to pose either. Quite frankly, you look frightened in every single one. 

“Alright, I think...” you babble and find your way into the conversation and choose the least egregious frame. You hesitate and close your eyes as you push your thumb down on the arrow. 

You bring the phone back to your ear, “are you still there?” 

“Always, doll,” he assures and once more, the phone shifts around noisily. “Mm, Snoopy? I like it. More of a Woodstock myself but... Mm mm mm, you look good.” He pauses as you wriggle and your cheeks burn hotly. “Sexy.” 

“No,” you burst out without thinking. 

“No? You don’t think I’m telling the truth?” 

“I didn’t... say so, it’s... just pajamas,” you sniff, “sorry, I didn’t mean to argue.” 

“Doll, relax. Thing about you, you don’t even have to try.” 

You don’t reply. You have no idea what to say or even if you should believe him. You saw the picture, you look in the mirror every day, you know what you are. It still feels like some weird game. 

“Here, gimme a sec,” he says from his end. 

More rustling and the noise of a digital shutter. Your phone vibes shortly and you pull it away from your cheek. You squint at the screen as it lights up and an image buffers in the conversation. 

“Huh, uh, it’s not loading. My phone is--” you nearly swallow your tongue and gasp. 

Oh gosh. It’s a picture of him in almost nothing. Just a towel. His long hair is damp and pushed back and his dark beard contrasts his bright blue eyes as he aims the lens of his phone at himself in the mirror. His stomach is ridged with muscle, his chest trimmed with hair that trails down, and the towel hangs low, giving a generous hint of his pelvis. The vee above the fabric feels overly salacious. 

“Doll?” You hear the low tone of his voice and make yourself look away. You raise the phone again to your ear. “Everything okay? You got really quiet.” 

“I...” 

“You like what you see?” He asks coyly. 

You put your hand to your forehead, your flesh is fiery. It’s so much so fast. Just that morning, you’d convinced yourself you would never see or talk to him again. And now he’s sending you pictures like that and... flirting with you? 

“Yes,” you eke out then cover your mouth. He snickers and you clear your throat before you peel your hand away, “sorry, I mean... you’re... you... you must work out.” 

“Doll, you’re too adorable,” he says. 

You don’t say a word. You’re mortified. He knew you saw that. He knows you’ve seen him like that. He sent it! 

It’s all too much. You’re lightheaded. You rub your chin and shiver. 

“I should... sleep.” 

“Mm, me too,” he says, “hopefully I dream of you.” 

You giggle nervously, “really?” 

“Sure, doll. All I can do is dream. Until tomorrow,” he sighs, “and what about you? You gonna dream about me?” 

You squeak and stammer, “I... I... I...” 

He laughs again, “you really are so cute in those pajamas.” 

“Please,” you blurt out, “delete it.” 

“Now, why would I do that?” He challenges. 

“I don’t... know.” 

“I love it,” he insists, “you’re not deleting mine, are you?” 

“N-no, no, I’ll keep it.” 

“Hm, good,” he intones, “it’s all for you so don’t you go showing me off to all your friends.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Promise, I won’t.” If only he knew you don’t have any friends to show. 

[wileys-russo]

put em up II k.mccabe x reader

lil soft katie based on this request here put em up II k.mccabe x reader

katie was expecting a call to come and pick you up, so her phone sat idly by her side as she sat on the sofa engrossed in a boxing match on tv.

in between yelling at the screen or groaning unhappily at the result, every now and then her eyes would flicker down and she'd tap the screen, just to make sure she hadn't missed a text or a call or accidentally swapped her phone to silent.

it wasn't often that the two of you went out without the other given your group of friends had become incredibly mingled over the years you'd been seeing one another.

but it was a reunion night out with some of your best friends from high school that katie was happy to spend the night in alone, partners not invited for this one which the girl understood given the group rarely all managed to get together.

that didn't mean your overtly protective girlfriend wasn't worried though, as she always was anytime the two of you weren't together. but she trusted you, and so she tried to remind herself of that as she busied herself to try and keep her mind off it.

she'd been in the bathroom brushing her teeth ready to curl up in bed when the call came a little before two in the morning, toothbrush clattering into the sink as she darted back into the bedroom to swipe accept.

"katie baby!" the irish woman grinned at the clear slur in your voice. "hi darlin." the girl chuckled as you sighed happily. "missed you! can you come and pick me up please?" you slurred with a smile on the other end of the line.

"of course, where are ya?" katie questioned as you stayed silent, the girl wincing as you suddenly screamed at one of your friends the same question. "scouts landing!" you answered happily, hiccuping a little as you did.

"okay, i'll be there soon and i'll call ya once i'm out the front so please keep your phone near you babe. do me a favour?" katie smiled in amusement as you hummed, clearly returning inside as the music in the background became louder and someone yelled shots.

"drink some water please, and no more shots!"

~

"oh for fucks sake." katie groaned as she tried your phone again but it rang out, hovering outside the bar half freezing to death. in a pair of black matching sweats and hoodie she was hardly dressed for a bar, but it seemed entering was her only option as you'd disregarded her warning to keep your phone close.

so with a defeated sigh she made her way over to the entrance, stopped by the security guard who gave her a questioning life. "look i'll be in and out. my girlfriends in there and she asked me to pick her up!" katie explained as the guy only chuckled and nodded for her to move on.

"come on! ya can even walk me in and out, its half two in the mornin ya think i'm after a pint?" katie scoffed as the man again just nodded for her to move on. "ah fuck this." the girl mumbled, the last thing she needed to be was arrested or in any sort of trouble.

she stood outside and tried you one more time, swearing as the phone again rang out. but right as she was starting to build a plan to sneak in she heard her name yelled out and looked up, one of your friends hanging off the balcony.

"what the hell are you doin down there?" your friend, whose name katie knew but just couldn't seem to place, called out with a laugh. "she called me to come pick her up but she's not answering her phone and they won't let me in!" katie yelled up as your friend nodded.

"two seconds. i'll bring her out!" katie breathed a heavy sigh of relief at that, stepping back and sending a filthy look toward the security guard who was clearly still watching her, his hand hovering near his radio.

but she didn't have to wait long, hearing a drunken giggle and a grunt as two of your friends helped you out, katie unable to be mad at you for not answering as you started to sing at the top of your lungs.

"oh god not this, every time she's had jager she thinks she's mariah carey!" your friend groaned slapping a hand on your mouth and smiling apologetically to security who shook his head.

"judgmental prick." katie mumbled under breath shooting daggers at him as you finally reached the bottom of the stairs. "can she even walk?" katie sighed with a small smile at the state of you, rare was it she'd ever seen you so drunk but she knew you'd been missing these friends so you deserved the night to unwind.

"she can run!" your friend from earlier rolled her eyes as you spotted your girlfriend and visibly lit up. "baby!" you cheered, breaking free of their grip and launching yourself at katie who caught you with a grunt.

"hi gorgeous, what happened to answering your phone hm?" katie chuckled, thanking your friends who patted your back and made their way back inside. "oh its..." you frowned, patting at imaginary pockets on your dress.

"oh no i lost it!" you gasped wide eyed. "no you didn't idiot its in your bag." katie chuckled, the bag in question slung over her shoulder as she took your hand and started to walk you to her car. "what would i do without you." you sighed pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

"get hit by a car!" katie warned tugging you sharply back away from the curb as a car zoomed past, pulling you to cross the road with her once it was safe. "come on, in we get." katie grunted as she helped you into her own car.

"babe can we get a mcdonalds?" you slurred, head thumping back as katie buckled herself in and started the car. "i dunno if food is the best idea love." katie chuckled, not in the mood to clean your throw up out of her car.

"food is always a good idea! who are you and where is my girlfriend who steals my food all the time." you scoffed, head swiveling around as you glared at her through hooded eyes. "alright alright, calm down." katie chuckled, one hand on the wheel and the other settling on your leg.

"did you drink some water?" your girlfriend asked glancing to you at a red light as a small smile curled onto your lips. "yep, sure did." you slurred giving her a thumbs up. "oh really?" katie laughed, shaking her head knowingly.

"i did! all my drinks had ice in them, and ice is made of water. boom!" you slapped your hand against her dash. "hey! be nice to the car." katie scolded, one arm shooting out to press against your chest to stop you flying forward as she suddenly braked.

"nice indicator ya fucken arsehole!" katie swore at the car in front who'd cut in. "road raaaage." you sung out with a dopey smile, poking at her cheek as she swatted away your hand. "you're so funny." you chuckled, hand dropping back into your lap.

"i know, i'm a funny girl." katie grinned, turning into the mcdonalds near your house. "my funny girl! my funny irish girl." you slurred, gently smacking her cheek with your hand and blowing her a kiss.

"what do you want ya pest?" katie chuckled pulling into the drive through, grabbing your hand which continued to poke at her. "everything!" you cheered with a grin, eyes closing a little.

"yeah hi can i please get a cheeseburger happy meal with a water, six nuggets and a coke?" katie ordered, pushing away your head as you tried to lean over and add to the order. "thank you!" katie chirped, driving to the next window as you huffed and slumped into your seat.

"stop mopin or i'll eat all your food!" your girlfriend warned teasingly as you flipped her off, katie paying and driving through, taking the bags and balancing them on her lap. "wait!" katie laughed pushing your eager hand away, pulling into a parking spot.

"cmon im hungry!" you whined as your girlfriend handed you the happy meal. "you got me a kids meal?" you groaned, but that all disapeared as you snatched out the toy from inside making katie roll her eyes with an amused smile.

"we can give it to coopur!" you cheered happily, unwrapping your cheeseburger and shoving almost the whole thing into your mouth. "darlin you're gonna choke!" katie smacked your leg lightly as you spoke something through your mouthful.

"urgh i don't speak that language." katie pulled a face of disgust as you slowly swallowed and shovelled a handful of fries into your mouth, sending your girlfriend a dopey grin.

"god help me i'm datin a gremlin."

~

"no no no, up to bed." katie laughed, grabbing your arm as you tried to wiggle past her into the living room. "m'not tired, don't be a buzzkill!" you poked her cheeks and stuck your tongue out, yanking your hand free and wandering off.

"a buzzkill! you wound me babe." katie tutted, following you into the kitchen. "nope! you wish." your girlfriend moved to kick shut the cupboard you opened knowing full well thats where the two of you stored your alcohol.

"water only for you now pretty baby." katie smiled, moving her body to block you from opening it again. "i am an adult you can't cut me off! you're not even a bartender." you slurred, swaying side to side unable to properly stand.

"ya feelin a bit seasick darlin? swaying an awful lot there." katie grinned causing you to scoff and wave her off. "move!" you ordered, hands on hips glaring the taller girl down. "no." katie shrugged simply.

"alright. i'll fight ya then!" you challenged, closing one eye and holding your fists up. "cmon mccabe, put em up!" you started to bounce on the balls of your feet, stumbling slightly but staying upright as you punched the air.

"oh thats adorable, you're adorable." katie gave you a toothy grin of amusement as you scoffed. "don't you patr-patron-" you struggled to get out the word making katies grin grow.

but she was caught off guard as suddenly you launched at her with a war cry, ducking as you swung and grabbing your arms, wrapping them around your own body like a straight jacket.

"oh no babe you're too strong for me!" katie cooed sarcastically as you struggled to break free of her grip, getting one hand free and punching at her stomach.

"rock hard baby!" katie smirked smacking her stomach with her own hand before easily tossing you over her shoulder and marching the two of you to your shared bedroom, flicking off lights as she went.

"thats a lovely massage thank you hun." katie smirked as you smacked and punched her back demanding she put you down. "it is three in the mornin gorgeous and you're smashed, we're goin to bed!" katie laughed at your protests.

"take my makeup off." you demanded as your girlfriend gently dropped you onto the mattress. "take your makeup off..." katie hovered over you with an expectant smile.

"now?" "so polite my love, how could i say no."

with that she helped you back up, the two of you wandering into the bathroom as katie lifted you to sit on the sink. "sit still squirmy." the brunette teased, squeezing your thighs and kissing your cheek as she moved to grab the micellar wipes.

"you missed!" you huffed, puckering your lips expectantly. "you smell like a bar, maybe once you brush those teeth!" katie smiled, your eyes closing as she gently started to wipe away your makeup. "i kiss you in the morning before you brush your teeth!" you rebutted her previous point.

"and whats that supposed to mean then!" katie tutted, pinching your leg and kissing your cheek again as she'd taken off as much makeup as she could.

"your breath smells in the mornin babe i thought that was pretty obvious!" you slurred with a dopey grin, tilting your head and swaying a little as katie quickly pushed you to sit back against the wall.

"such a charmer you are, aren't i lucky." the brunette smiled. "now open that bar cart you're callin a mouth!" katie teased, brushing your teeth for you and smacking your leg every time you tried to talk which would just result in you spitting toothpaste at her.

"done! now kiss." you spat and rinsed your mouth out, tapping your lips impatiently as katie grinned and sweetly kissed you, your arms moving to wrap around her neck as she slotted between your legs.

"no baby, you're too drunk." katie chuckled as you reached to try and tug her top off. "i'm not drunk, you're drunk!" you booped her nose with a grin. "sure, how many fingers am i holdin up?" katie purposefully wiggled her hand around as you squinted.

"you're cheating!" you gasped in realisation, grabbing her hand and biting her fingers. "oi! cool it would ya jaws." katie laughed tugging on your ears.

"is it the jager or are your eyes always this pretty?" you slurred, wiggling your eyebrows with a charming smile. "you know if you're trying to charm your way into my shorts baby girl, its not workin." katie whispered against your lips.

"not even a little? cause baby you're so pretty, prettiest girl i ever did see!" you sung out happily, kicking your feet back and forth.

with a shake of her head and a smile your girlfriend leant in and pressed her lips to yours, hooking her hands under your thighs and lifting you back off the counter.

"mcdonalds eaten, makeups off, teeth brushed, kisses given. bed time!" katie pecked your lips a few more times as she carried you back to the bedroom, lowering you into bed and tugging the blanket over you.

"fine." you huffed, wrapping your body around hers as katie flicked off the light and slotted into bed beside you. "if you snore i'm gonna smother you in ya sleep baby girl, just so you're aware." katie smooshed your face in her hand, kissing your forehead with a loud mwah.

"if you smother me i'm gonna come back as a ghost and haunt you forever and ever and ever." you mumbled tiredly into her chest, words barely understandable.

"yeah? well forever with you doesn't sound so bad." katie smiled, her own eyes fluttering closed.

[runnning-outof-time]

happy 3.5 k you 100% deserve it !!!! please could i put forward 33 . "are you jealous" with john shelby tysm have an amazing day

@henrywinterluver Thanks so much for your kind words and also for sending this request in! I’m sorry it took me so long to write it! I hope you like what I did with the prompt you chose! I envisioned this as season 3 Michael…after he started acting cocky haha. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

Run in with a Cousin

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1170

Summary: Michael hits on (Y/N) one night at the Garrison. Michael doesn’t know that (Y/N) is John’s girl. (Y/N) tries to figure out why John reacts the way he does…in the process she learns of a family member she didn’t know John had.

(Y/N) was waiting for her drink at the Garrison’s counter when she felt someone slide into the empty space beside her. At first she ignored the person, wanting to get her drink and head back to the corner table she’d been occupying while she waited for her partner and his brothers to finish talking business. But the feeling of the man’s eyes lingering on her made her turn to face him just seconds later.

“May I help you?” she asked politely, wondering why he’d been staring at her.

“You might be able to,” the man said with a grin. (Y/N) tried so hard to keep her grimace internal.

“Oh yeah, how so?” she asked, deciding to humor him.

“I just couldn’t help but notice how bloody beautiful you are…and then when I saw that you were sitting here alone. I figured I’d come over and introduce myself,” he answered, inching closer to her as he spoke.

“Well thank you,” she accepted his compliment, still playing nice while making sure to add, “I already have someone though.”

The young man pursed his lips together at the added information before he looked around the room. “I don’t see him anywhere,” he commented on his observstion.

“Oh he’s here,” she assured him.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still buy you a drink,” the man’s eyes were back on her as his grin returned, “nothin’ illegal with buying a pretty girl a drink…and maybe then we’ll see where that goes.”

A look of surprise flooded (Y/N)’s features as she heard what he had to say. “I think I may be a bit too old for you,” she pointed out. It wasn’t hard to notice that this man looked to be in his early twenties.

“Age is just a number, darlin’.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what to say back to that. So instead she just pursed her lips and nodded.

The young man was about to speak again when she caught a glimpse of her partner over his shoulder. Within seconds, John Shelby had approached them. She could tell by the scowl that had formed that he’d clocked the man she was talking to. (Y/N) tried to withhold her grin…things were about to get interesting.

“Hi, love,” she greeted him in a soft voice as he stopped by her side. He wasted no time in slipping his arm around her shoulders as she pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head to the man that was on his right. He still hadn’t looked in his direction yet.

“Just someone I’ve been talking to,” she answered, glancing between the two as she spoke.

“This must be your man that you spoke about,” the man made his observation known.

“It is,” (Y/N) nodded.

Then John looked to his right. “Michael?” he said the name as if there was posion laced into it.

“John?” the man’s response was full of shock. “Fuck,” he breathed then, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“You were out here trying to get with my girl when you were supposed to be in the snug discussing business?” John questioned.

“I wasn’t, I didn’t know, I…we were just talking,” the younger of the two struggled to think of an answer.

“But she had to tell you that she had a man,” John pointed out.

“She’s a pretty girl!” Michael admitted, throwing his arms outward in exasperation.

“We’re leaving,” John said to (Y/N) then, his arm dropping from her shoulders to hook around her waist before he looked back to the man named Michael, “and you’d better think twice before trying any of this shit ever again. Got it?”

Michael nodded in response, clearly looking like a child who had just been scolded. Well that’s what he was though, right? He was basically still a child. That was all John needed though to turn and lead (Y/N) out of the pub.

It wasn’t until they made it to her home that someone spoke again. “I can’t fucking believe that happened,” John grumbled as he swiped his peaked cap from atop his head so that he could throw it down onto one of the chairs in the living room.

(Y/N) spun to look at him, immediately noticing that his deep scowl was still very much present. “We were just talking, John,” she told him, trying to get him to lighten up.

“Yeah, but he was talking with the intent of picking you up.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Because I came out and put an end to it.”

“You don’t think I would have put an end to it myself?” (Y/N) inquired, her eyebrows raised.

“I’m sure you would have, but that’s not…” he trailed off with a huff, running a hand down his face before he waved it out in the air, “that’s not the point, (Y/N). I just can’t fucking believe he tried that.”

(Y/N) studied her partner’s mannerisms for a few moments, wondering why this measly conversation had got him so worked up. Then it clicked. “Are you jealous?” she just had to ask him.

John’s eyes immediately snapped to her. “What?” he just had to ask, wanting to make sure he even heard her right.

“Are you jealous of me talking to him?” she repeated her previous question. “Because that’s all we were doing. Talking.”

“Fuck no, I’m not jealous of him!” John exclaimed in an incredulous manner, “why would I be jealous of my little shit of a cousin who’s got absolutely no chance with you?”

“He’s your cousin?” (Y/N) asked with wide eyes, completely shocked by this new information.

“Yes, he’s my cousin,” John answered with a nod.

“How?” the word left (Y/N)’s lips before she could think of anything else to string with it, “I mean I know how, but like…through who?”

“My aunt Pol. He’s her son.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It would have made things much easier if you did.”

“Well if you would have told me…” (Y/N) trailed off, her eyebrows raising again.

“It never came up!” John defended himself, “and besides, I’m not the problem here, he is.”

“It’s not even a problem though, John,” she sighed in response, wishing he’d let the minuscule issue go.

“I’m gonna tell Pol about it…then it won’t be a problem anymore,” he decided how he was going to remedy the situation.

“That might make it more into a problem,” she couldn’t help but giggle slightly as she thought of her partner, who was very much an adult, going to his aunt to tell on her son - who was also very much an adult.

“It’s what he deserves,” he stayed steadfast with his idea, nodding once after he spoke, as if he was agreeing with himself.

“Whatever you think, John,” (Y/N) appeased him, deciding to let the matter rest…although she knew that this wasn’t the last time she’d hear about this situation.

**tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

[nattblacklupin]

Cupids ride

Pairing: Rhysand x fem! Reader

Warnings: Little angst - not really tho, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, amusement park, Mor being supportive bestie

Summary: You're in love with your childhood best friend since forever. You plan on confessing your feelings on special starfall celebrations when something tries to ruin your plans.

Masterlist

Rhysand had been your best friend since childhood. You remember all of the memories you made with each other. The memories that lingered the most were the moments you slowly fell in love with him. Slowly but hardly, you didn't even realise it till you were drowning in your love for him. His smile awoke butterflies in your stomach, making your cheeks red when it's directed at you. You never felt what you did now, not when you were dating some lyrian soilder that wanted you to be his good little wife, not when Helion wanted for you to sleep with him. What you felt was something deeper, stronger. Even the strongest faes could not stop you from feeling what you feel towards Rhysand.

After discussion with Azriel, the only person that you knew wouldn't tell anyone about your little secret. You decided to confess your feelings. It would be so much better than keeping them inside and hurting yourself and possibly him, too, in the end.

The timing seemed perfect for your plan. This year, Rhysand had planned something extra special for Starfall, insisting that the celebration could be even more magical. And you knew how to make it even more memorable for him.

You had to giggle to yourself when the idea of taking him to date there and confessing your feelings came to your mind. Running over to the table in your room you couldn't help but be happy, everything is going according to your plan. Sitting down with a flick of your hand, you summoned parchment and some pen you can write letter to Rhysand with.

Dear Rhysand,

Hello, how have you been in the day court? And when are you possibly coming back? I apologise for all my witty questions that could be perceived as spying for Azriel (maybe I am, you never know). But I would like to invite you with me to the theme park you organised. We could maybe even go try the ride of cupit, or eye of Velaris how you like to call it. Please answer as soon as possible.

Yours,

Y/N

With a light flick of your hand, you send the letter to Rhysand, hoping it will find him in Day court. Your heart hoped even more he would stop his business there to answer. You knew how much he prioritized his work so his court could be happy and save. And in time of starfall, he did even more, wanting to spend time with his family without having to worry about anything going wrong.

It was the day of starfall, and Rhys still didn't come or even send a letter back. You couldn't help but lay in your bed with a blanket over your head. In two hours is the main part of starfall that all of the night court gathers to watch and enjoy, yet you weren't even getting ready, still sad of the possibility of Rhysand not coming.

Suddenly, Mor barged into your room with a beautiful purple dress in her hand. She was dressed in a beautiful red dress that hugged her every curve.

"Stand up and stop moping around. And I don't take no as a answer" you knew arguring with her would let to nothing as she's stubborn and won't stop till she gets what she wants.

"Look at the dress I brought you." You looked up and down the dress she was now holding in both of her hands like proud mother. "Are you sure it will fit me, Mor?" You asked, not sure about how you will look in it.

"Oh please, you will look magnificent in it. Just imagine Rhys' reactions when he sees you." You stood up as fast as you possibly can. "Rhys is coming?" You asked hopefully to which Mor answered only with smile and tossed the dress at you. "Get dressed. I will do your makeup and hair." She winked and left.

You quickly put the dress on, admiring yourself in the mirror. Mor really choosen well with this one. It was a beautiful purple dress that had gems tailored in it that sparkled as the skies of night court. The dress had just enough cleavage for you to feel comfortable and not like you're being exposed too much. You had to thank Mor for this.

"I have to go to Emerie, I hope you can entertain yourself for a while, Girly." She winked at you and left in a blink of an eye. You had to smile. They were so cute together. The happiness turned sour as soon as you remember you're alone on starfall. You looked up to see you're standing in front of a cupid ride.

"Fuck it, if no ones gonna take me I will just take myself" you whisper for yourself deciding to spoil yourself little bit. "But I wanted to take you, darling."

You swear you never moved as fast as you did now, turning your head to the source of the voice.

"Rhysand? What are you doing here, I thought you were in summer court." Rhysand stood there, a teasing smile playing on his lips. He came closer to you, his eyes shimmering at you.

"I was, and I am supposed to be. But I got your letter and couldn't leave out the opportunity to be there with you. " He lifted his hand like he wanted to touch you but hesitated, letting it fall. Then, as if gaining confidence, he took your hand in his. The simple contact sent a thrill through you. Did you really make Rhysand, the Lord of the Night Court, nervous?

"You made my night right now, Rhys. I was ready to go on couples ride alone and make myself the biggest joke of starfall. " He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “That would have been tragic, darling.” He leaned closer to you, his breath on your cheek, and his lips hovered just above yours. "It really would." You let out breathlessly, your heart pounding in your chest.

Fireworks in the shapes of hearts went off in the background while people cheered for the new beginnings. And then, in this moment, his lips met yours in a soft, deliberate kiss. It was gentle, filled with all the affection, need, and love that you had hidden from each other for so long. Your hands found their place in his hair, tugging lightly, and he responded with a low hum of approval.

He slowly pulled back from you, leaving his forehead on yours. "I love you." He whispered so softly that you nearly didn't hear him. "I love you too, Rhys so much." You replied, voice full of emotions.

He took hold of your hand and turned to Cupid ride with a smirk.

"Shall we go then, darling?"

[holylulusworld]

Every breath you take (11)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, fluff, bitchy collegue

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every breath you take (10)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Over the next week, you’re a busy bee. You work harder than ever before to make sure you can take Friday off. Bucky invited you for dinner at his place, and you don’t want to miss your second date for anything in the world.

“Look at our cheery co-worker,” your colleague huffs as you whistle a tune while printing more copies. Only thinking of Bucky and the perfect date you had makes you smile. She can’t ruin your mood.

“A good morning for you too,” you chirp but don’t turn around. Her sour mood is not your problem. It’s not your job to cheer her up. You tried so often, but she only got bitchier whenever you offered your help or tried to be nice.

“Why are you so cheery on a Wednesday morning,” she snarls and stands a little closer. While she looks over your shoulder at the copier, you smile to yourself. If you told her about your date, Alpine and Bucky, your colleague would find a way to ruin it for you too. “Did something good happen over the last days?”

You bite your tongue before you can tell her about your date and Bucky. She’s a nosy bitch and would spread rumors about you and your date without a doubt.

“Nothing special,” you lie, and focus on finishing your task. There’s more than enough to do today, and you don’t have time to entertain her.

“You’re chirping like a little bird, and flutter around the office just the same. I wonder what got into you, is all,” she presses on, determined to find out about the cause of your happiness.”

“I got a new plant,” you say to stop her from asking more questions. The last thing you need is that you accidentally tell her about Bucky.

“I bet it has something to do with your secret admirer. Did he send you more than flowers this time? Lingerie? Dick pics.”

You grit your teeth and exhale sharply. How can she talk like that about your secret admirer? He’d never do such a thing. Your secret admirer is a gentleman, not some creep sending your lingerie or dick pics.

Your colleague keeps on nagging about work, your secret admirer, and life in general. Just like before, you ignore her. No one is going to ruin your mood, or the happiness you feel because of your date with Bucky.

Only the thought of him makes everything better. Your day. Your nights. Your whole life.

She can’t bring you down or take your happiness away from you. Walking away, the copies tugged under your arm you smile sweetly at your colleague. “I need to go back to my desk. If you have any more questions, please make an appointment.”

She gives you the stinky eye, but you don’t care.

“Alpine, we need to clean this place. It must be sparkling clean when Y/N comes here for our date,” Bucky rummages inside the kitchen, looking for a cleaner. “Alpine, no more making the floor dirty. Stop hiding your toys in every corner, punk.”

Alpine hisses at the bucket stand on the floor. The white furball walks past Bucky to jump onto the sofa and get comfortable in their favorite spot.

“Hey, help me here. You want her to like you too, right?” Bucky cocks his head to look at his cat. “Punk, if we want to bring her into our life, you should put more effort into winning her over.”

Bucky furrows his brows. He looks at the bucket and then at the cleaner, deciding to try this new direction first. If dates and love confession won’t work out, he can still let the darker thoughts take over and bring you away.

Maybe convincing you to move in with him isn’t going to work out. Maybe, just maybe he should stick to his original plan and take you away from the life you’re living to give you a better one.

“Hmm…ladies. What do you think?” You pose in front of your plushies while trying on another dress. “No, that’s not the one.” Sighing deeply, you strip off the dress to toss it onto the bed to join the pile of clothing.

Again, you walk toward your wardrobe to get the next dress out. In a few days, you’ve got the next date with Bucky, and you want to look beautiful for him.

Grabbing another dress in fifties style you frown. What if Bucky doesn’t like your style? Maybe you should try something sexier on.  

You shake your head. No. Bucky is not like that. He’s a gentleman and admired the dress you wore for your first date more than once.

“What do you say, this one?” You take your favorite dress out. A rockabilly fifties swing dress, adorned with a beautiful cream-colored floral print and pastel green foliage on a pale salmon pink background. The dress boasts cute, capped sleeves and a ruched chest panel. It’s the perfect mix of cute and stylish. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Your plushies can’t help you decide. Of course, they can’t. You already know that the dress is the perfect choice for your date with Bucky. If he doesn’t make a move on Friday night, you’ll be damned…

Part 12

Tags in reblog.

[alreadyblondenow]

Virgin as you can be | Lee Taeyong (TEASER)

✦ Taeyong x Female Reader

✦ Smut, filthy, fluff and Angst. Mature College AU

✦ 1/2 Taeyong Smut Series: I found you

Summary: More than friends but less than lovers. Taeyong meets you, a virgin, through an online dating app and offered you a once in a lifetime opportunity. An opportunity to have fun and enjoy your last year in college differently. Knowing that you’re a virgin, Taeyong plans on keeping it that way for as long as he wanted to. He’s taking his sweet time until he finally takes your virginity.

Warnings: This is pure fiction, this is the filthiest most smuttiest fic I’ve ever written, foreplay galore, use of sex toys like vibrator and dildo, mentions of pills, the reader will someday use pills in the story, oral sex, nipple play, oil massage, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: if you enjoyed the story, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel. Also please support ‘TAP’, Taeyong’s masterpiece 🥹 I’m super proud of him!!!

Let me know if u want to be tagged!

He has been counting the days until he can see you again and spend time with you again. You are the only person in his mind, thinking about what you’re doing every second of the day. He misses you, but he can’t put it into words. He tries to compose a message, but ends up deleting it until he’s already busy again… and he never got the chance to send the text.

“Dude, just finish the fashion week then spend time with her again” Johnny says, as someone who’s been in a long distance relationship.

“So this is what long distance—“ Taeyong did not finish his sentence.

“you two are in a relationship?” Johnny confirms, surprised at what Taeyong said. Jaehyun was all ears too while he’s on the chair for his hair and makeup.

“No” Taeyong defends. His voice automatically surrounded the room. “Were not in a relationship— were just having fun” Taeyong explains while he fixes his Loewe outfit that’s perfect already.

The fashion week is the busiest for Taeyong, you know this because Taeyong is a famous Loewe ambassador outside school… but oh you wish he could tell you that he’s busy, that he’s not available, that he’d call you back… but he never did. What do you expect?

You’re not his, and he’s not yours.

“So are you coming tonight?” Your friend asks you with a smirk. She doesn’t know about Taeyong, no one does. “Let’s go meet some boys???” She asks again.

This is a good opportunity to help yourself. Help yourself to forget the person who made you feel good in all the right places with just a single touch. An opportunity to forget someone who’s beyond perfect.

And you can’t have him.

Reality hits you.

“Yeah. I’ll come with you guys” you answered your friend with the most uninterested tone.

The night continued to be loud and wild, a perfect setting to forget about Taeyong even just for a few hours. You just wanted to stop missing him and his touch because you’re about to get crazy about him. It’s not that you’ve fallen in love with him already, it’s the feeling that he made you experience. Every secret. Every kiss, every touch. Everything in between… you became addicted to receiving it.

Shot by shot you drink everything until you blacked out and dozed off on the bar table. Your friends are clueless with how to bring you home because they’re drunk and wasted too. But suddenly you received a call.

A call that you’ve been waiting for weeks.

A call that will rescue you in your drunken state.

“Hi! This is not Y/n… but whoever you are. Can you pick her up at 127 bar? She’s drunk and so am I byeee….”

Taeyong was speechless over the phone while listening to your friend. But even so, he hurried himself and drove straight to 127 bar. Even though he’s tired, even though all he wanted to do is sleep… he chose to pick you up. Blushing on his way, excited to finally see you.

When he arrived you were the only one left sleeping at the bar, Taeyong was quick to cover you with his jacket and carefully walked you towards his car. Holding you close to him, not giving a fuck about anyone who sees him holding you. ‘Let them talk’ he thought. Right now he just wanted to keep you safe and drive you home.

It’s not that you weren’t aware that Taeyong is the one holding you right now, in fact, your embrace tightened when you smelled his expensive perfume. You knew it was Taeyong. But you were just so drunk that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him. All you could say is ‘I want to be with you’ and slept through the entire car ride.

The next day, the familiar broad shoulders of Taeyong is the first thing you saw the moment you opened your eyes. He was sleeping soundly, while holding your hand. You have the most space of his bed, while he was the one squeezing himself on the side. You felt sorry and pulled him gently, careful not to wake him up but you failed. He greeted you with sweet smile. The one that makes every girl in school crazy for him. But this time, you’re the only one seeing this beautiful smile first thing in the morning.

“Hi,” he started and pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead and feeling his heartbeat against his bare chest. This is the first time you see him bare like this even though you’ve done crazy things already. And you can’t help yourself to look at every tattoo he has, tracing it with your fingertips, leaving you speechless.

“Did you have a good time last night?” he added.

You feel like you needed to apologize so you told him the truth, about what you felt when he was away. About the things that keeps you awake at night, the worries you keep on thinking, “I just thought I lost you and… I will never see you again just because you didn’t like…what I did, the last time we spent together” you were talking about the blowjob that you gave him. You faintly remember how he looked so frustrated that time.

Taeyong let out a cute laugh, looking so angelic under this morning light. His hand is perfectly wrapped around you. “I can’t believe you’re stressing yourself with the things that aren’t true. I was just busy at work but during those times, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you… I miss you” he explains.

You were once again speechless because of his honesty and feelings.

“Let’s just forget the time that we weren’t together and pick up where we left off? What do you say?” He says as if he’s suggesting to do something.

Of course he is.

And you’re up for it.

“What do you have in mind?” You said, smiling.

“It involves my tongue… on your cunt,” he whispered seductively beside your ear. Feeling his lips on your neck, trailing kisses until he reaches your lips, “and your legs getting weaker by the second” he added and showed you how much he misses you through his kisses and you see Taeyong’s smile clear as the day, a sign that you didn’t lose him at all.

You feel his hands roam on your body, putting his hand inside your sweat pants, his fingers were cold but you didn’t care. You still remember the first time his hand was inside your panties for the first time and how his fingers felt so good against your wet cunt. It felt like yesterday you thought to yourself… And today, he will once again become your first time.

“Can you go in all fours?” He requests while he kisses you deeply. Of course you comply to his request, you love how every time you feel his presence behind you and in between your legs, you have no idea what’s coming next. You’re always clueless about his next move. He did mentioned that there will be oral sex again, but knowing Taeyong… he will not go right into it… he likes to take his sweet time and play.

He started with something you’re familiar with. His touch and kisses. He spreads kisses on your back, hands gently massage you from behind. Removing your sleepwear and making you moan from time to time with every teasing and touch he does. It’s relaxing but a different kind of relaxing, you feel tingles in between your legs, you feel wetter by the second and his very touch turns you on.

Slowly you feel his hands trail up from your waist, until he reaches the sides of your boobs which are damn sensitive. It makes you weak whenever he touches you on these parts, swirling his fingers on the sides of your boobs and cupping it both hands in the softest way possible to make your nipples hard and sensitive.

“Do you like it?” Taeyong asks then left a kiss on your lower back. You can only answer with a soft moan.

He did the same things again and again and again until your whole body is sensitive and your nipples are hard as fuck from his teasing. Until he proceeds to the main event without a warning. From behind, he licked your wet panties and teased your wet pussy with his tongue and fingers. Moving up and down slowly, tickling your cunt with his fingertips softly.

Even that thin barrier between Taeyong’s tongue and your cunt feels good you thought. And when Taeyong was done playing, he removed your panties in swift move, spreading your legs good for your own benefit. Without any warning he started with a few good licks that took your breath away. So this is what it feels like being licked by the cunt. It made you nervous, it gave you a tingly effect, it made you want to close your legs, at made you want more.

“Good?” He asked, you nod.

For the second time, you’re now on your back, enjoying the comfort of Taeyong’s soft bed. But now it wasn’t just Taeyong’s tongue making you feel good, his lips were involved this time. It was like he was kissing your cunt with tongue, a wet kiss that felt like your pussy juices won’t stop flowing because Taeyong is doing such a great job. Licking you up and down, licking your clit while reaching for your hard nipples and pinching it. By that, you earned your first orgasm through Taeyong’s tongue.

But he was not yet done.

Using his fingers, he spread your pussy lips and started licking aggressively. Pushing his head towards you more, feeling his nose on your pussy. This time you really couldn’t stop yourself and try to close your legs, calling Taeyong’s name as you moan how good he’s making you feel. Soon you hit another high. He was right, it will make your legs weak.

Others girls would last long, but you don’t. And that’s what Taeyong love about you.

He crawled up to you, comfortable in the position in between your legs while waiting for you to come down from your high. He loves seeing you like this. Horny and ruined all because of him. “Calm down, breathe” he giggles and started kissing your boobs. Sucking and kneading them as he waits for you.

“How can I breathe if you constantly take my breath away?” You asked with a flirty look, the man in front of you couldn’t resist himself and kissed you hard. Asking for another round in an instant. You feel his hard cock inside his sweat pants and you instantly feel bad because you can’t do something in return for him.

Of course Taeyong can see right through you, so he reached for your hand, kissed it before he puts it inside his sweat pants, your eyes went big with what he did. Clearly remembering the last time you touched him and gave him head for the first time.

“I wasn’t frustrated that time,” he moans as he enjoys every stroke you give on his clothed hard cock. “I was frustrated at myself because I couldn’t fuck you that time… but I loved everything you did last time. That pretty mouth if yours sure do know how to make me crazy for more” he says and kissed you to prove what he was saying.

Now that everything is clear and you worried for nothing, you wanted to make it up to him. With bravery, you put your hand inside his boxer briefs and tightened the grip around his hard cock, he already knew what to do of course. He closed is eyes and thrusted hard, moving his hips and fucking your hand. Pretending and imagining that its your hole. You spread kisses in Taeyong’s neck, licking his hard nipples while his imagination runs wild until he cums on your hand and making a mess. Nobody cared. You were both really horny and craving for more.

After a few rounds of fooling around, you and Taeyong spent the whole day kissing, giggling and watching movies in his room. Never leaving each other’s touch.

“When will you take me home?” You asked softly while your eyes were both closed. Enjoying his dimmed room and just basking in each other’s presence.

“I really hate watching you leave” he says, pulling you closer to him and tightening his embrace.

“Have you ever been in love?”

You suddenly asked. The words just came out of your mouth.

You knew a lot of things about him but you’ve never asked him something so personal. You feel like you’ve done something wrong again…

“I’m sorry—“ you apologize.

“Don’t be. It’s just that… I don’t know the answer. But I do know that love is complicated and I don’t like complicated things. Complications ruins things”

You nod and changed the subject.

“How about, first sex?”

“It’s boring. The third one was better” he smirked.

[scoonsaliciousupdates]

5.3 Lily

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 500

Previously On...: Bucky got a call from Lily, wanting to know where he was. He lied to her, of course. That definitely won't come back to bite him in the ass.

A/N: Sorry this is so late going up! Had a last-minute Mother's Day dinner with the family, and then some quality time with @cazellen, and when you add on an hour+ drive each way, it ended up eating my entire evening. But! I wouldn't leave you hanging, so here is today's update, just... six hours late :(

Also, PLEASE NOTE: There is one more section of Chapter 5 to go up tomorrow, and then I will be taking a one-week break from posting so I can focus on writing. So, Chapter 6 will start on Sunday, May 19th. I probably will not be as active on here as I normally am, so if you send me a message and I don't respond right away, it's because I'm busy making more content for you!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Lily clutched her phone to her chest, shocked. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. He had lied to her. She couldn’t believe it. Her best friend had lied to her about what he was doing and who he was with. 

She hadn’t planned on coming to the Compound that night– she’d realized she’d forgotten some files in her office that she needed to look over before she went back to work on Monday, and had just stopped in to pick them up. She figured, since she was there, she might as well go see what Bucky and Sam were up to. She didn’t want to crash their boys’ night, per se, but if they happened to invite her to join them? Well, how could she refuse such an invitation?

That’s why it came as such a shock when she rounded the corner to the rec room and saw Sam and Steve, in front of the large television, watching football together, and Bucky nowhere in sight. She hung back for a few moments, giving him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe he’d been in the bathroom, or in the kitchen grabbing snacks. But when fifteen minutes went by, then thirty, and Bucky still hadn’t shown himself, she began to worry.

She was about to barge into the room and demand answers from Sam and Steve, when she heard them talking during a commercial break.

“So, how do you think the date’s going?” Steve asked Sam.

“Knowing Tin Man, I’d usually say ‘terribly,’” Sam said with a laugh, “but this girl seems to actually like him, so who the hell knows? I guess it depends on what time he comes home tonight… or tomorrow morning, doesn’t it?” 

Lily brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp as she backed away from the entrance to the rec room. 

No. No, no, no, no, no, she thought. He wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t just start seeing someone without telling her, warning her, would he? 

So, she’d called him. 

“I promised Sam we’d do guys’ night,” he’d told her at brunch, the lie coming so smoothly off his lips. But she’d heard a woman’s voice on the line with him.

Lies.

And then, he’d snapped “I already told you what I was doing… You don’t have to keep checking up on me.” He’d never used that exasperated tone with her before. Never. And to just hang up on her, without even a proper goodbye?

She felt hurt. She felt betrayed. In their years of friendship, Bucky had never lied to her before, had he? And why? Why now? Who was this girl, and what was so fucking special about her that Bucky felt the need to lie to his best friend about her? 

Lily felt like she was going to be sick.

She needed to find out who this mystery woman was, immediately. And she needed to do everything in her power to make sure Bucky never saw her again.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[alisonwritesimagines]

And Your Eyes Look Like Comin' Home ~LA!Mihawk Imagine~

Summary: Mihawk has to go back to sea to both yours and his dismay.

Author’s Note: The next post will be about Shanks and reader meeting!

Based in my Enchanted series

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: slight angst, but mostly fluff

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

It became almost like clockwork. During the week, you’d teach at the school, Mihawk will walk you home, and you two will have dinner together. And on the weekends, you would sell what you had in your garden before enjoying the day around the village and waters with Mihawk before going back home.

It was a nice routine between the two of you.

But Mihawk needed to go back to sea and he didn’t want to leave you. He had grown fond of you during his time here. But he needed to take care of business. After all, he was a pirate warlord of the sea.

“I need to head out to sea again,” Mihawk tells you one night at dinner. No sugar coating. No leading it on, just the straight honest truth so you wouldn’t have time to process it.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. When do you leave?” You asked disappointingly. As much as you didn’t want to admit, you wanted him to stay.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“You should take some food with you before you go,” you tell him.

“I’ll be okay.”

“I insist.”

“Very well.”

The next morning, you stood by the dock to say goodbye to him. You gave him a basket of the food you grew in your garden along with some extra stuff that Mihawk had bought for the two of you.

“So I guess this is farewell?” You asked him. You hated that you were sad about saying bye to him.

“For now. I will be back in a month or two at most,” he tells you.

“To finish me off and claim your berry?” You joked. You came to closure that Mihawk had no intentions of killing you anymore ever since he decided to stay.

“No. To come see you again,” Mihawk said before sailing off. You shook your head at him, not believing his words before walking back to your home.

You had gotten some letters from Luffy during the time to keep you company. He wrote to you about his time at sea and how he has a crew who he’d love for you to meet. But reading his letters made you sad, missing him even more.

Every day for the next two months felt boring after Mihawk left. You knew it was a bad idea to keep falling for pirate men but you couldn’t help it. You wanted them to stay but you knew that they also belonged to the sea.

-

You heard a knock on your door which scared you for a moment. You weren’t expecting anyone especially not at night. You took a peak from the peep hole before opening the door quickly when you saw who it was.

“Brought you some new seeds from some other islands for you to grow in your garden,” Mihawk tells you as he held up your basket. You saw two bottles of red wine in the basket along with some other goodies besides the seeds (which were organized nicely).

“I’m guessing you’re staying for dinner?” You asked with a small smile. Your heart was racing from seeing Mihawk in front of you again.

“If you’d have me,” Mihawk said. You nodded before letting him inside your house.

“Not gonna lie. I kinda missed you,” you chuckled.

“What a coincidence, I missed you too,” Mihawk says with a soft smile. You smiled up at him before grabbing him a plate for dinner.

-

After dinner, you and Mihawk were drinking a glass of wine while he told you what he did while he was out in sea.

“I got you this as well,” Mihawk said as he gave you a large box with a bow wrapped around to keep it shut. You gave him a side look before taking the gift and carefully undoing the bow.

Inside the box was a beautiful dress. Your eyes widen as you looked up at Mihawk.

“What? I can’t accept this. Mihawk, this is too much,” you tell him as you tried to give him back the dress.

“I insist. It’s yours,” Mihawk tells you as he pushed your hands away gently. You admired the dress in your hands before looking back up at Mihawk.

“Thank you,” you say before kissing his cheek.

“I think we had enough to drink. Let’s get you to bed shall we?”

“You know, you can stay here if you like. I have an extra bed in the next room so you don’t need to stay on your ship.”

“If you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah.”

“Then I shall stay. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Mihawk tells you. You nodded before taking the dress in your hands to take with you to your room.

“Goodnight, Mihawk.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

You went into your room and closed the door behind you. You admired the dress as you held it up to your body, imagining yourself in it. It wasn’t too fancy and more of a casual dress but it was still beautiful. When was the last time you got to treat yourself with something so beautiful?

The next morning, you put on the new dress before walking out of your room. You saw Mihawk in the kitchen, getting breakfast started.

“I could’ve cooked,” you told him. Mihawk turned around to look at you.

“You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you smile as you got closer.

"Does the dress fit nicely?”

“It does! I’m still in shock about you getting a dress this nice for me,” you chuckle to yourself.

“And why’s that?”

“I just never thought to myself that I deserve something this nice,” you tell him.

"I think you do deserve something as nicely as a dress," Mihawk tells you.

"Thanks. I feel like I need to be careful with this dress. I don't want to get it ruined."

"I can always get you more dresses if you like."

"You don't have to do that."

"I insist."

--

The next time Mihawk went to sea again, you were upset once more. You didn't want him to leave but you knew that he needed to be out at sea.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back again this time," Mihawk warned you.

"Just be careful. Okay?" You asked.

"Of course."

"Be safe," you tell him.

"I'll be back again," Mihawk said before sailing off once more.

The next time Mihawk came back, he had another dress wrapped up for you.

"I feel bad now. I don't have much to give to you," you tell him.

"You letting me into your home is more than enough."

"Where are you from though, Mihawk?"

"Kuraigana Island."

"You're a long way from home," you pointed out.

"Maybe. But I'm fine with being away for the time being," Mihawk said.

"Maybe one day I can visit Kuraigana Island?" You suggest.

"I'd like for you to visit whenever you can," Mihawk says. You smiled a little before getting dinner ready.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

can I get 16 and 19 with charlie

16. ‘’The nerd never gets the hot girl, that’s just the way it is.’’ + 19. ‘’I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.’’

SCREAM WEEK PT 2/7

This is my first time writing for Charlie, please don't let this flop. He is not as popular as the other Ghostfaces, but I'm a sucker for horror movie nerds

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Kirby shifted beside you, trying to not fall asleep as the movie continued playing on the TV. ‘’When this one ends, I’m going home. I promised myself I would never watch this monstrosity again, but here we are.’’ She took the almost empty bowl of popcorn to keep herself busy and awake. 

The Curse of Michael Myers wasn’t the best of the franchise, but it was part of it and you were doing a Halloween marathon. 

‘’What? Come on, Kirby. It’s not even midnight!’’ you protested, not wanting her to leave yet. ‘’The next one if H20. It has its flaws, but it also has Jamie Lee Curtis going after Michael with an axe.’’

Kirby hesitated, clearly torn. ‘’I don’t know…’’ 

‘’And you promised to drive me home,’’ you reminded her. ‘’I don’t want to leave yet. We have at least two more to go.’’ 

‘’Four if we include the Rob Zombie remakes,’’ Charlie chimed in from the armchair.

You almost forgot those two. 

‘’I’m not sitting through four more movies. My ass is starting to meld with this couch,’’ the blonde grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t the most comfortable couch, but at least it was bigger than Robbie’s. The last time you tried to have a movie night at his house, three people had to sit on the floor. 

‘’I can walk you home if you want?’’ Charlie offered, secretly not wanting you to leave yet.

When the movie ended, Charlie went to the kitchen for drinks while you were switching the DVDs. He had a hefty collection above the television, which you were slightly jealous of. He even owned expensive collector pieces — counting a Jigsaw puppet —, but they were upstairs in his bedroom. 

‘’Did you set it up?’’ Charlie asked, returning to the living room. 

You hummed, grabbing the throw blanket from the back of the couch and laying it over your lap. It wasn’t cold, but you liked the feeling of it on your skin. 

Charlie handed you your drink and went to sit back on the armchair, you stopped him. ‘’You don’t have to sit all the way there, Kirby’s spot is free.’’ 

Without thinking it through, Charlie sat beside you, momentarily forgetting that he gets sweaty and nervous when he’s close to you. God, he felt like such a loser. 

The movie started, and the familiar Halloween theme music echoed through the speakers. 

Toward the middle of the movie, you were both quoting the movie and laughing. It wasn’t your first time seeing it. Nor your second. 

Although you had been in the same friend group since Sophomore year, it was rare that you were hanging out alone with Charlie. He and Robbie were inseparable, and you tended to spend most of your time with Kirby and Olivia. Outside of your passion for horror movies, you didn’t have much in common. You weren’t even from the social scale at school. 

Absent-mindedly, you had moved closer to him. You didn’t know when or how, but Charlie, on the other hand, did notice and shifted uncomfortably, feeling the warmth radiating from your body beside him. He could smell the faintest notes of your perfume, making him realize that if he was close enough to kiss you. But he couldn’t do that. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, trying to quiet his thoughts.

‘’She’s going after him!’’ You grabbed Charlie’s arm in excitement as you watched Jamie Lee break the glass and take the axe. ‘’Go Laurie! Chop his head off!’’ you said at the screen despite already knowing what will happen. 

Charlie's gaze flickered between you and the TV, savoring the moments in your company. When would he get another night like this?

‘’There’s no way he can return after that.’’ 

‘’Yet he does,’’ Charlie said as the credits rolled in. ‘’They briefly explain in Resurrection that Laurie killed the wrong person on Halloween night, thinking it was Michael Myers. It was a paramedic. Personally, I think that’s farfetched. They should have let him die.’’

You twisted your torso to look at Charlie. ‘’But that’s the thing with Michael. He always comes back.’’ 

‘’I actually have a theory about that,’’ Charlie began, leaning closer to you as if sharing a secret. ‘’It’s the mask that makes him impossible to kill. Have you noticed that he always wears it when they proclaim him as ‘dead’? It’s probably cursed or something. That’s how he keeps surviving. They should take his mask off, and then chop his head.’’ 

‘’Like Jason and the Crystal lake? They always dump him back in the lake when he dies,’’ you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Charlie grinned. ‘’Exactly!’’ 

He should get up and switch the DVD, but his eyes glanced down at your pink lips, looking soft and inviting. Charlie knew the outcome wouldn’t be the one he dreamed about, but he leaned in anyway, his lips drawing closer to yours. But before they could touch, you pulled back to dodge his kiss. 

‘’Charlie…’’ you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Embarrassment rushed through his body, his gaze dropping to the floor knowing that things would never be quite the same after this. ‘’Eh, sorry, I shouldn’t have. I should have known.’’ He shook his head, forcing a laugh. ‘’The nerd never gets the hot girl, that’s just the way it is…’’

Awkwardness filled the room, neither of you speaking for several minutes.  

‘’I…I’m gonna go switch the movie.’’ 

Left alone on the couch, you bit your bottom lip. Why didn’t you let him kiss you? You dodged his kiss by pure instinct. Because Charlie was different from the guys you dated, but different isn't always bad. You had a great time tonight in his company. He was sweet, caring, and you liked how passionate he was about the things he loved. 

Your eyes watched him carefully put the movie back into its case and take out the next. His movements were slower, dreading to return to his seat. 

‘’Charlie?’’ 

‘’Do you want another drink? Or popcorn? I could go make another round of popcorn—’’

‘’Charlie,’’ you repeated. ‘’Just come sit.’’ 

He pressed the button to slide the DVD back in the player, then returned to the couch. His heart was pounding in his chest, unable to shake off the embarrassment of his failed attempt at a kiss. He wanted the cushions to swallow him like they did to Glen in Nightmare on Elm street. 

‘’Charlie, I'm sorry I pulled away earlier,’’ you began softly, not wanting to make things any more awkward.

‘’It’s fine,’’ he brushed off, grabbing the remote and pressing ‘play’.

‘’It’s not.’’ You shifted to sit sideways, trying to get Charlie’s attention. ‘’Can we try it again? I want to change the ending.’’ 

His eyebrows furrowed in surprise, a mixture of disbelief and hope swirling in them. ‘’What?’’ 

‘’Kiss me.’’

Air got stuck in Charlie’s throat. No way you were being serious. ‘’You’re fucking with me…’’ 

You cupped the back of his neck and leaned in slowly. ‘’I never said I didn’t want to kiss you,’’ you whispered, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear as you looked into his blue eyes. ‘’You just…took me by surprise.’’ 

Unlike in his dreams, Charlie didn't wake up, you pressed your lips against his.

You tried to keep the kiss soft and controlled, but Charlie wanted more. His hand found your hips, gently gripping them as he slipped his tongue past your lips, no longer interested in watching the movie that just began. You let your hands wander from his shoulder to his hair, pulling at the roots and eliciting sweet noises from him. He clung to you for dear life, air escaping his lungs and soon finding himself out of breath, but he couldn’t stop kissing you. You were like a drug, and he wanted more.

‘’No,’’ Charlie whined when you broke the kiss. He attempted to chase after your lips, but you kissed along his jawline, nipping and nibbling a trail from his ear down the column of his neck. ‘’Aah, fuck.’’ 

You smiled against his skin, loving how responsive he was.  

Grabbing at the front of his unbuttoned plaid shirt, you pulled him with you as you leaned against the armrest of the couch. Charlie settled into your widespread legs, shifting so he wouldn’t press his whole body weight on you. 

‘’See, sometimes the nerd does get the hot girl.’’ 

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld  @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy  @s-al-em  @darylscvmdumpster  @tommysaxes  @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble @luiise @planetkt @vampyrgoff @adrluvh @mymultiveres  @miqi-16 @not-liah  @lovenats01 @doestalker @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336  @arinexeisnotworking @halforangecuts @l3ndryz  @ilovelandry  @your-platonic-gay-lover @danniackerman  @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam  @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @zoeynicolas @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @pumkinnroses @cruzgrecia @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe  @gizmodecaprio @bingsbitch @buckyswhxre  @emerald-09

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[marsplastic13]

'Complicated' (Part 1) - Kaz Brekker x reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names) Genre: modern AU, slow burn word count: 9.3k notes: please let me know what you think <3

Kaz Brekker studied the girl sitting uncomfortably in front of him. She kept shifting in her seat, her eyes darting around the room. Kaz tried to gather his thoughts, cursing himself for the drunk texts he had sent the previous night. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he was as uncomfortable as she was. He sighed, repeating to himself, "For Inej." He didn't care about this girl, didn't know her, didn't want to know her—he was doing this for Inej.

The girl's phone buzzed again. "Sorry, my friends are scared that you're going to kill me and asked me to send texts every three minutes or they'll call the police," she murmured, typing quickly.

Kaz raised an eyebrow, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He knew he had to say something. "For Inej," he reminded himself once more. "You are a prostitute," he blurted out. Who starts a conversation like that?

"Yep," the girl nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

"Who do you work for?"

"No one, it's, uh, really a selected clientele, let's say. I work with my roommates."

Kaz nodded, avoiding her gaze. He shouldn't be ashamed; she was no one. "I have a girlfriend—"

"Oh, the Wraith? I watch all of her videos. She's gorgeous. Sorry, I'll let you speak," she added quickly, noticing the annoyance on his face.

His last encounter with Inej played in his mind—how she had kissed him and he had run away, throwing up in the street. He shook his head. He could do this. He had to. "I have an issue. I can't touch people. It makes me physically sick, and I have to overcome it. For her," he said, all in one breath.

The girl frowned, her gaze shifting to his gloved hands. "So what do you want from me?"

"I want to get used to skin," he said, looking up at the ceiling, silently asking Ghezen to take him out of his misery. "She'll be back in a few months, and I would like to show her some progress."

"I'm sure you don't want her to know about this arrangement," the girl said slowly.

"No, exactly."

The girl looked around, weighing his words. "Sure, it's fine. I can do it. Prices are the same, though, sex or not," she said, getting up.

Kaz stood as well, nodding. "What do I owe you for this... chat?" he asked, blushing slightly.

The girl smirked. "First meeting is on the house. I'm y/n, by the way." She made her way out, and Kaz collapsed back into his chair, exhausted by the encounter.

***

Kaz Brekker found himself in the entry of her apartment, sitting uncomfortably on a couch, waiting. The girl who let him in had remarked that he was early and that she was still busy. He could hear soft moans coming from behind a closed door and did his best to ignore them, maintaining a straight face.

After a while, the noises stopped, replaced by muted conversation. A man left the room in a hurry, and a few minutes later, she appeared. The girl was wearing a see-through robe and dark green lingerie. She gestured for him to enter. Kaz hesitated, reminding himself, "For Inej."

The room was tidy, with no unnecessary items around. Kaz stood in the middle of it, unsure of what to do.

"You can sit, Kaz. Can I call you Kaz, or should I call you Mr. Brekker?"

"Kaz is fine," he said, neatly folding his coat and placing it on a chair, resting his cane against it. He took a seat on the bed, keeping some distance from her.

"You know, I actually did more research," she stated, getting a bit closer. The girl hugged her legs, her feet inches from his thigh. Kaz could already feel the anxiety rising.

"Your girlfriend was kidnapped and enslaved. That's awful. She's doing a great job sharing her story around the world."

He nodded without looking at her. Her body was on full display, and he never felt worse.

"What would she think if she knew you were with a whore?"

Kaz's head shot up, surprised by the question. "I... That's... you do it by choice," he stammered.

"So she wouldn't have a problem?" she inquired, curious, leaning in.

Kaz shifted a bit away. "That's none of your business," he snapped, then turned to look at her. "Why do you do this?"

The girl smiled. "Because sex is great, and my grandma always told me never to do something for free if you're good at it."

Kaz tilted his head, frowning.

"I mean," she continued, shifting closer, "what's the difference between going out on a Friday night hoping for some guy to buy me a drink and then take me home? I'll tell you," she added, not letting him think, "First, I'm getting paid, a lot. I can work with who I want, when I want, and I still have Friday nights free."

"That's... a way to see things," he admitted, surprised.

"Kaz?"

"Yes?"

"You're about to fall off the bed," she whispered playfully. Kaz had shifted so far away that he was dangerously close to the edge of the mattress.

"You are too close," he said, avoiding her gaze.

"Wasn't that the goal?" she leaned in a bit more.

"I need more time and space," Kaz said, getting up and pacing a bit.

"Do you have suggestions? Because I'm not really used to whatever it is you want me to do."

Kaz's mind raced. Part of him screamed to leave, to bury himself somewhere, to tell Inej it was over and disappear from the world. But another part remembered how good it had felt to hold Inej's hand, even if just for a few minutes. He sighed, sitting back on the bed.

"I need to have control over this, over you," he said, determined.

"I'm yours for the next 50 minutes," she shrugged, eyeing him curiously.

Kaz got lost in thought for a moment. "Can I see your hands?"

The girl rested them on the bed, and he slowly brought his covered fingers to brush against hers. "Do you like my nails?" she asked. Was she unable to stay quiet? he wondered.

"No, they're too long. Also, I don't like the color or the shape." These weren't Inej's hands, tanned and small, with bitten nails.

The girl laughed. "You have strong opinions about nails."

He actually chuckled, studying them more closely. "You should change your nail technician."

"I'll ring you up next time I have to do them."

Kaz kept turning her hand in his. They were pale and trembled slightly. Or maybe his hands were trembling; he didn't know. His thoughts wandered to the moans he had heard earlier. He wondered if they were real or if she was acting.

His fingers brushed hers again, and she shivered slightly. Kaz couldn't help but wonder about her life. Was she always this confident? Was she always in control? Did she ever feel as lost as he did right now?

After a long time, he felt confident enough to remove his gloves. "You have pianist's hands," she observed, tilting her head.

"I have thief's hands," he whispered. Kaz rested his hands next to hers on the bed. He raised a finger and slowly traced it along her hand. Shivers went down his spine; the anxiety was at his ankles, but he wasn't going to drown.

Kaz exhaled. "Your hands are cold," said the girl.

"Yours too," he replied.

"You know, I think you're forcing yourself too much. You're too focused on your hands," she observed.

"What should I do?" Kaz raised his gaze to meet hers.

"I don't know. Do something that involves touching, but not just that. Keep talking," she encouraged.

"About what?"

"Talk about your girlfriend."

Hesitantly, Kaz started talking, sharing facts here and there. He tried to keep his eyes on her, distancing his thoughts from her cold hands in his trembling ones.

Kaz felt her hands continuously slipping away. Every time he reached for them, she pulled away.

"For Ghezen's sake, stay still," he said, annoyed, grabbing her wrist to keep her hand where he wanted it.

She raised her brows, surprised.

Kaz looked at their hands. His lungs felt like they were filling with water.

"Kaz, you're not breathing."

No, he wasn't. He let go of her wrist, getting to his feet again. He leaned on the desk, taking slow breaths and cursing himself, his past, Inej, and the poor girl who was watching him with wide eyes.

"Do you want to try again?" she offered.

Kaz took a shaky breath, then nodded.

Later, he stayed in his car under the girl's flat for a while, listening to Inej's audio messages and wondering what she would think of him if she knew. He wondered if this would work and if she would ask what had happened to him when she returned and he could hug her, feel her, kiss her.

***

For weeks, Kaz made his way to her house. It took him a lot to be comfortable enough to hold her hand. Even if he didn't like to admit it, he didn't dislike talking to her. Sometimes he would vent about his work, and she would listen attentively, her hands held tight in his. Other times, they would talk about the Netflix show he convinced her to watch, sharing moments of laughter and distraction from the weight of their respective lives.

One time, they even got into a spirited debate because she was a vegan and he thought it was a ridiculous concept. She argued passionately about animal rights and the environment, while he countered with pragmatic concerns about nutrition and societal norms. Despite their differences, they found a strange sort of fun in their debates, both stubbornly refusing to concede their positions.

As the weeks passed, Kaz found himself looking forward to their sessions, not just because of the progress he was making with his aversion to touch but also because of the unexpected connection he was forming with this unconventional woman. She was sharp-witted, unapologetically herself, and surprisingly perceptive about his inner struggles. Though their arrangement was based on a transactional premise, Kaz couldn't deny that there was a genuine bond developing between them.

He often wondered about her life outside of these walls, the clients she saw, the challenges she faced, and the reasons that led her to this unconventional career. Yet, despite his curiosity, he refrained from prying too deeply. Their interactions were framed within a delicate balance of intimacy and distance, a line he was careful not to cross.

Each visit brought a new revelation or a small triumph. Sometimes it was a touch held a moment longer than before, a conversation that flowed effortlessly, or a shared laughter that eased the tension in the room. Through it all, Kaz kept Inej in his thoughts, reminding himself that every step he took here was for her.

***

He still had about three weeks before Inej would come back. Kaz was waiting on the couch, getting used to the noises he heard from the various rooms in the house. That day, they were louder than he had ever heard, and he recognized her voice clearly. The girl at the desk snorted, looking at his embarrassed face.

"Stop, please, stop, let me go," he heard, and he got on his feet.

"Where do you think you're going?" the girl at the desk raised an eyebrow.

"She said—" her screams grew louder, more pleading, more desperate cries for help.

Kaz took a few more steps, but the girl stopped him. "She's not using her safe word. You can't go in. Are you crazy?" she asked angrily.

Kaz stopped, embarrassed. "I'll go back to—"

"Yeah, sit back," the girl shook her head.

Kaz reluctantly sat back down, his mind racing. He felt a mixture of anger, confusion, and helplessness. The sounds from the room continued, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be doing something. Every instinct screamed at him to intervene, but he forced himself to stay put, gripping the edge of the couch with white knuckles.

The girl at the desk glanced at him, then sighed. "Look, I get it. It sounds bad, but she knows what she's doing. If she needed help, she'd use her safe word."

Kaz nodded, trying to calm his racing heart. "I know. It's just... weird to listen to."

The girl softened a bit. "It's part of the job, both hers and mine. You learn to block it out. You'll get used to it too, if you keep coming here."

He wasn't sure he wanted to get used to it. Kaz's thoughts drifted back to Inej, to the reason he was putting himself through this. He needed to be stronger for her, to be able to touch her without flinching. But moments like this made him question if he was doing the right thing.

Eventually, the noises from the room subsided. The door opened, and the man from earlier left, looking smug. Kaz glared at him, but the man didn't notice, or didn't care.

A few minutes later, she emerged, looking tired but composed. She saw Kaz and gave him a small smile. "Ready?" she asked.

Kaz nodded, standing up. He followed her into the familiar room, feeling more on edge than usual. As they settled in, he tried to push the recent events out of his mind, focusing on the task at hand.

"You okay?" she asked, noticing his tension.

"Yeah," Kaz lied. "Just... a bit distracted."

She nodded, understanding. "We can take it slow today."

Kaz took a deep breath, reaching for her hand. He held it gently, trying to steady himself. "For Inej," he reminded himself again.

She still looked a bit disheveled when he got on her bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, no one fucked me that good in ages, I'm still a bit shocked, sorry."

Kaz looked at the ceiling, sighing. She always had to overshare.

"What's your safe word?" he asked as she got closer.

"Why? Are you into weird shit?" she grinned, and he felt himself blush because of his total lack of experience.

"Don't make that panicked face. I was joking," her hand slid comfortably into his, "my safe word is 'safe word.'"

Kaz laughed, a good, sincere laugh. "I am not surprised."

She laughed too. "I really hope that one day you'll be able to do shit so nasty it'll become too much, and the only thing you have in mind is, 'I have to use my safe word,' and you'll think that just saying 'safe word' is a great idea."

Kaz studied her, feeling a bit curious about what she was doing with the man before him, and he was sure she would go into detail if he asked. Instead, he decided to go straight for what he wanted to do. "I want to hold you."

"Sure, how?"

He thought about Inej, how he saw her with their friends, carefree, resting her head on Nina's lap.

"Rest your head on me," his heart started racing as she executed the request.

"How does it feel?" she asked, getting comfortable.

Kaz looked at her, slowly scanning her features. She was undeniably beautiful, but still not as much as Inej. There was a stark difference between the two women, and it wasn't just physical. This girl's beauty was polished and practiced, a tool she wielded with confidence and control. Inej's beauty was more profound, a quiet strength that resonated from deep within her, marked by the resilience in her eyes and the grace in her movements.

As Kaz held her, he found himself comparing every detail. Her hair was soft under his fingers, but it lacked the wild, untamed quality of Inej's. Her skin was smooth and flawless, but it didn't have the history and stories that Inej's scars told. He felt a pang of guilt for comparing them, but he couldn't help it. Inej was the reason he was here, the reason he was pushing himself to the brink of his comfort zone.

His mind wandered to the times he had watched Inej from afar, wishing he could reach out and touch her, to reassure her of his presence and his support. He remembered the way she moved through the shadows, a silent guardian, and how he had admired her from a distance. She was more than just a companion; she was his anchor, his reason for fighting.

But now, as he sat here, trying to overcome his deepest fears, he wondered if he would ever be able to truly be there for her. Would this training make a difference? Would he be able to touch her without flinching, without feeling the icy grip of panic?

He thought about the last time he had seen Inej, how she had kissed him and how he had run away, throwing up in the street. The memory filled him with shame, but also a renewed determination. He couldn't let that be the end of their story. He had to be stronger, for her.

"It's... fine," he admitted, feeling more in control that day.

"You know," she said with a smirk, "I'm sure your girlfriend would absolutely love it if you played with her hair, scratched her head..." she let her voice trail off.

Kaz chuckled. "My girlfriend or you?"

"Oh no, it's all for her. I would hate it," she laughed softly.

He removed his gloves and started touching her hair from the lengths. He slowly made his way to her head, wondering if Inej would really enjoy it as much as this girl seemed to. The girl closed her eyes, humming with satisfaction. "I can't believe you pay me to cuddle me," she whispered.

"I'm not cuddling you," he said, offended.

"I know you're not an expert, but trust me, love, you totally are," the girl smiled, keeping her eyes closed.

Kaz rolled his eyes. "I want to try and hug you, but, uhm, can you put some more clothes on?"

The girl looked at her exposed body, then nodded. "Sure thing, baby. I'll be right back." She stood up and walked to her dresser, pulling out a comfortable-looking sweater and leggings. After slipping them on, she returned to the bed and sat next to him.

"Can you stop using pet names for me? It's weird," Kaz requested.

The girl sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Kaz." She moved to sit on his lap, waiting for his instructions. Kaz kept his hands firmly on the bed, his breaths quickening. The girl stood still, looking around, until he rested one of his hands on her thigh. She started chatting about the latest gossip she had on one of her friends, and Kaz found himself becoming more and more invested. That girl was really unlucky with relationships.

Kaz put his other hand on her arm, and while she kept talking, he guided her to rest against his chest, silently battling a war inside of him.

"Kaz, you're not breathing," she reminded him gently.

He knew he wasn't, and tried to distract himself by focusing on her hair. Sometimes he wondered if he had it all wrong. Maybe Inej would have enjoyed making this long journey with him, but he felt too embarrassed. With y/n, he didn't have to be ashamed; he was paying for her time, and he was the one setting the pace and the rules.

Kaz let her press her head against his chest, staring firmly out of the window. "Can I?" the girl rested a hand on his chest to shift more comfortably. They remained in that position for a while. He gathered the courage to hug her more tightly, but as he did, her forehead pressed against his neck, and he felt like drowning.

Kaz abruptly got to his feet, shoving her away, trying to ground himself. "What the fuck?" the girl was on the floor, massaging her shoulder, and Kaz managed to feel even worse.

"I'm sorry, I can't-" he started, his voice faltering with frustration and self-disappointment. He turned away, struggling to regain his composure, he failed miserably to steady his breaths.

The girl remained on the floor, watching him quietly.

He didn't look at her as he hurriedly gathered his things and made his way to the door. Before leaving, he glanced back at her once more. "Wait Kaz don't-" he heard her calling for him, but he ran away from the building. His heart stopped racing only after he drove for a while.

After a shower, Kaz was feeling slightly better. He threw himself on his bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally from the day's events. Checking his phone, he found a few audio messages from Inej, likely filled with her warm voice and reassuring words, a couple of pictures from Jesper, probably teasing snapshots or updates from their latest escapade, and nothing from y/n.

Kaz sighed heavily; he had even forgotten to pay her. He tapped on the bank application: 'Press Confirm to send 700 kruge to y/n y/l/n.' It was way more than what he usually gave her, but he confirmed the transaction without hesitation, feeling it was a small price for the scene he caused. Tossing his phone aside, he turned on the TV and aimlessly flipped through channels until he settled on the new episode of Masterchef.

As he immersed himself in the cooking competition, his phone signaled a new message.

'Did someone steal your card?'

Kaz shook his head at the text, amused by her directness. He decided not to respond, but another message followed immediately.

'Are you watching Masterchef?'

'No,' he replied without thinking.

'I bet you could do a better tiramisu than this even blind and with just one hand.'

He chuckled softly, his lips curving into a rare smile. 'Absolutely.'

'My friends asked me to go to the Crow Club tomorrow night, hope it's not a problem.'

'It's fine,' Kaz replied, relieved at the normalcy of their conversation despite the recent awkwardness.

The girl left him on read, and he returned his attention to the episode, stealing occasional glances at his phone. In the comfort of his room, surrounded by the familiar banter of the cooking show and the gentle glow of the television, Kaz allowed himself a moment of respite from the complexities of his life.

***

The next night, Kaz observed the bustling crowd from his elevated private zone in the club. It was well past 2 am, and the party was in full swing. Amidst the sea of dancing bodies and flashing lights, he spotted y/n with four other girls, one of whom he recognized as the 'secretary' he had seen at her house.

Almost immediately, a group of guys approached them, offering drinks and inviting them to dance. Kaz felt a pang of discomfort at the thought of immersing himself in the midst of the sweaty, pulsating crowd, but he couldn't deny that y/n and her friends seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Throughout the night, Kaz stole glances at her, careful not to lock eyes. He observed as she laughed, danced, and interacted with her friends and the group of guys around them. Despite the chaotic environment of the club, there was a sense of carefree energy emanating from y/n that Kaz found both intriguing and somewhat unsettling.

As the hours ticked by and the club approached closing time around 4 am, Kaz couldn't help but notice y/n leaving with a guy, her arm casually draped around his. Guess she found someone to take her home on a Friday night, he thought wryly.

Observing from his secluded vantage point, Kaz's mind began to wander, consumed by curiosity about y/n's motivations. It puzzled him why someone who engaged in intimate encounters every day for work would actively seek out another person at a club. Was it a matter of preference—perhaps finding someone who could provide a different kind of connection or intimacy that her clients couldn't? Did she crave genuine affection or cuddles after days of superficial interactions?

The image of her relaxed face as he played with her hair during their sessions floated into his mind. There had been a moment of vulnerability there, a glimpse behind the professional facade she maintained. Kaz found himself reflecting on the complexities of human desires and needs, realizing that intimacy—whether physical or emotional—could manifest in myriad forms, even for someone whose profession seemed to blur those boundaries.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, torn between curiosity and a sense of guilt for prying into her personal life.

***

"Kaz!" He had just stepped out of his car when he heard her voice calling from somewhere behind him.

Kaz turned and saw y/n approaching with a smile. It was the first time she had been free before their usual session.

"That's really your car?" she asked in shock.

"Yep," he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"My brother in Ghezen, you have money," she observed, still eyeing the car. "Are you sure you want to stay faithful to your girlfriend?" she smirked.

"Pretty sure," he answered without hesitation.

"Why are you always this early?" she asked, opening the building's door and gesturing for him to enter first.

Kaz shrugged, "I don't like being late."

"Well, I'm not booked for another 20 minutes. Do you want something to drink? I think I have beer."

"You drink before going to work?" he joked.

"Oh, wait until I tell you I have sex at my workplace sometimes," she winked.

They sat in her room, chatting about Masterchef and sipping their drinks. "I'll change and then I'm all yours," she said, heading to her drawer.

Kaz glanced at her outfit—jeans and a t-shirt, perfectly ordinary. "Can you stay like this?" he blurted before he could stop himself. "You have less skin exposed."

She seemed uncomfortable with his request. "Undressing helps me separate things," she explained, shifting her weight. "I wouldn't feel comfortable using my everyday clothes while working. I'll find a compromise like the other day."

After she changed into something less revealing, they both sat on the bed. Kaz felt calmer than before; he had survived her touching his neck, and despite the panic attack, the world hadn't stopped turning. He hadn't drowned. He could do this. 'For Inej,' he repeated in his mind like a mantra.

"Come here," he said softly, and she moved onto his lap.

Again, he started touching her hair and noticed she must have changed her shampoo. Slowly, he pulled her closer until her head rested on his chest, both careful not to let bare skin touch. They continued chatting, and Kaz felt comfortable enough to hold her hand too.

The girl slowly shifted in his arms to look at him while talking, and he didn't even notice.

"Fix my hair," she said at a certain point.

He looked puzzled. "I have hair in my face, put it behind my ear," she encouraged, "girls love it, trust me."

Kaz sighed. He had never touched her face. He took the small strand of hair and did what she asked, brushing as little as possible against her ear.

"Not bad," she commented with a smile, making him snort at the absurdity of the situation.

The whole scenario felt surreal. Here he was, grappling with the simple act of brushing hair from her face, while she was someone who had sex for money, casually and without the emotional turmoil that plagued him. Kaz's mind raced with the juxtaposition of their worlds—her ease and expertise contrasted sharply with his profound discomfort and hesitation.

Kaz's gaze fell from her eyes to her lips, and she didn't miss it. "Yes, it would be a great moment to kiss her."

He nodded, feeling bad about how slow his progress was. It frustrated him to no end. He had always been the master of his own fate, the one in control, but this was different. This was a battle against his own mind and body, and he was losing. He felt like he was stuck in quicksand, every attempt to move forward met with resistance.

His mind wandered back to Inej, her soft voice and the warmth of her presence. How would she react if she knew what he was doing? Would she understand, or would she feel betrayed? He pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the girl in front of him.

"I saw you at the club the other day. Saw you left with a guy."

"Yeah, nothing special. Bit boring, not a great shag. I'll see him later for dinner," she commented.

"Why are you seeing him again if he's not good in bed?" he frowned.

"Maybe because I have sex almost every day, so it's not exactly my first concern," she snorted.

"Yeah, right. I always forget," he shook his head.

"Forget what? That not everyone who comes in here wants to do sweet things like you?" she teased.

Kaz felt a flush of frustration rising. "The fact that I can't do much doesn't mean I wouldn't like to do much more," he said before registering what he was revealing.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "That's new," she commented.

Kaz immediately felt a wave of embarrassment crash over him. He wasn't used to exposing such raw vulnerability, especially not to someone he was paying to help him. It made him feel weak, pathetic even, to admit his shortcomings so openly.

He glanced away, his face heating up. "Forget I said anything," he mumbled, wishing he could take the words back.

But she didn't let it go. "No, really. What do you mean?"

Kaz struggled to find the right words, feeling cornered. "It's just... I want to be able to touch her, to hold her without feeling like I'm drowning. I want to be able to kiss her, to feel her against me without panicking."

She nodded, listening intently. "It's natural to want those things with someone you care about."

Kaz's frustration bubbled over. "It's more than that. I want to be able to... to make her feel good, to be with her the way she deserves. I think about it all the time, but I can't even get close without... without freezing up."

Her eyes widened slightly, her expression sympathetic.

He glanced away, again. "Forget it," he mumbled, wishing he could take the words back.

But she didn't let it go. "No, really. What do you mean?"

Kaz sighed, his frustration mixing with a deep sense of inadequacy. "I mean, I want to be able to do things, normal things. But I can't. Every step feels like I'm trying to climb a mountain."

She tilted her head, her expression softening. "You're doing more than you realize, Kaz. The fact that you're here, trying, it says a lot about you."

He shook his head, still unable to meet her gaze. "But it's not enough. Inej deserves more than what I can give her right now."

She placed a hand on his, her touch gentle. "I imagine Inej loves you for who you are, not for what you can do. She's seen you at your worst, and she's still with you, right?"

Kaz nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, but for how long? What if she gets tired of waiting for me to be... normal?"

"Normal is overrated," she said with a small smile. "And besides, you're making progress. It might feel slow, but every step forward is a victory."

He sighed, feeling a bit of the weight lift off his shoulders. "I just... I don't want to disappoint her."

"And you won't," she assured him. "You're trying, and that's what matters. The rest will come with time."

Kaz felt a mix of relief and frustration. He was trying, but it never felt like enough. He didn't want to just keep trying; he wanted to succeed. He wanted to be the man Inej deserved, not just someone who was always working on getting better.

"So you want to have sex with her?" she asked with a grin, her tone teasing and eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Of course I want to," he let himself say, sighing heavily. "But it's not just about sex. It's about everything that comes with it. The intimacy, the closeness, the trust. I want to be able to give her that without feeling like I'm about to fall apart."

She laughed softly. "That's a lot of pressure for one guy, even one as stubborn as you, Kaz. But it's cute, you know? Watching you struggle with this whole intimacy thing."

"Great," he muttered, his frustration mounting. "I'm glad my issues are entertaining for you."

She rolled her eyes, still grinning. "Oh, come on. Lighten up a little. You're taking this way too seriously."

"Seriously?" Kaz's voice had a sharp edge. "Of course I take it seriously. This is about more than just me. It's about Inej. She deserves better."

“But what about you Kaz? You always talk about her, what she might need, what she might expect from you,” she observed, “You’re allowed to do things for you too. You need to loosen up. Enjoy the process a bit."

Kaz felt the heat of embarrassment and anger rise in his cheeks. "It's not that simple," he snapped. "I can't just 'loosen up' and pretend everything's fine."

She smirked, leaning in closer. "Maybe you need to stop overthinking and start feeling. Like right now. What do you want to do? What do you really want?"

Kaz's mind raced, his usual calm shattered. "I want to be able to touch her, hold her, without feeling like I'm going to drown."

She raised an eyebrow, her smile turning mischievous. "What do you want to do with me?"

Kaz hesitated, feeling the weight of her question. His thoughts were jumbled, a mix of frustration and desire. He knew she was teasing him, but the question still struck a chord. He wanted to push his boundaries, but it was hard to admit it, even to himself.

"I want to..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I want to be able to hold you closer. To not feel like I'm constantly on the edge."

She tilted her head, still grinning. "Is that all? I thought you'd have something more interesting in mind, apart from holding hands and playing with hair."

Kaz felt a surge of irritation. "It's not a game," he snapped. "This is hard for me." His mind began to wander, thinking about all the things he wanted to try but was too shy to say out loud. He imagined holding her hand without gloves, feeling her skin against his. He thought about tracing the curves of her body, learning every inch of her by touch alone. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her lips against his and lose himself in the sensation.

He yearned to learn how to make her come undone in the same way he knew how to crack a safe, so good that it left her distracted all day, like he had witnessed for other men. He imagined exploring her body, discovering what made her gasp, what made her moan. In his mind, images of Inej blurred with images of y/n, and he shook his head to make them go away.

"You don't have to be afraid to say what you want," she whispered, her voice suddenly soft. 

Kaz took another deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him. "I just... I want to feel normal," he confessed. "I want to touch and be touched without fear."

"Do you think you can touch my cheek?" 

Kaz tilted his head. "Maybe with the gloves first." He covered his hands and then stopped, unsure of how to proceed.

The girl felt his hesitation, "Can I?" she gestured to his hand, and he nodded.

She guided his hand to her face, and he felt the familiar rush of anxiety. He had to fight the urge to pull away, to retreat back into the safety of distance. His breathing quickened as he made contact, his gloved hand resting on her cheek.

"You're doing fine," she whispered encouragingly, but her words did little to soothe him. He felt like he was failing, like he was letting Inej down.

"It's just...so slow," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "I should be past this by now."

She shook her head slightly, careful not to disrupt his hand. "Everyone has their own pace, Kaz. You're making progress, and that's what matters."

Kaz sighed, his eyes fixated on his gloved hand against her skin. "But what if it's not enough? What if I can't ever get past this?"

She gently cupped his hand with her own, her touch light and reassuring. "You will. It's not about how fast you go, but about continuing to move forward, even if it's just a little bit at a time."

He looked at her, searching her eyes for some form of validation. "Do you really think so?"

She smiled softly. "I do. And I think Inej would understand. She knows what you've been through, and she wouldn't expect you to change overnight."

Kaz swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat. He wanted so badly to believe her, but the fear of failure loomed large. "I just... I want to be better for her."

"And you will be," she assured him. "You're already trying, and that means a lot. Now, do you want to try taking off the glove?"

Kaz hesitated, but then nodded. "Yeah. Let's try."

He carefully removed his glove, exposing his hand to the cool air. The anxiety surged again, but he kept his focus on her face, her calm demeanor helping to steady him.

"Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm ready."

She guided his bare hand back to her cheek, and this time, the contact felt more intimate, more real. Kaz took a deep breath, feeling a mix of fear and determination.

"See? You're doing it," she said softly. "One step at a time."

Kaz nodded, feeling a small spark of hope ignite within him. Maybe he could do this, after all. Maybe he could become the person he wanted to be for Inej, one slow step at a time.

He let himself brush his fingers against her nose, tracing the line of her brows. He couldn't bring himself to cup her face completely, but still, it was a lot. When he left, he felt good. He didn't have much time before Inej's arrival, but he was making progress.

***

All of his confidence disappeared the night before her arrival. In Kaz's mind, the only scene he could see was when she tried to kiss him, and he ran away.

‘Can you come to my place?’ Kaz attached the screenshot of a payment of 1000 kruge he only had to confirm.

After two minutes, he got a response. ‘Are you okay?’

He thought about what he could answer, but luckily another message saved him. ‘I don't work outside home, sorry. You can come here if you want.’

Kaz confirmed the payment and stormed outside his house.

He found y/n at her door with a worried look. It was quite late; she was probably doing other things when he had written to her. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama shorts, hinting that she might have been getting ready for bed before his unexpected message.

"Kaz, what is going on?" she whispered, concern evident in her eyes as she glanced at the time on her phone.

"I have to kiss you. I want to... I want to kiss her," Kaz blurted out, his voice strained with anxiety.

She nodded slowly, processing his words. "Okay," she said softly, her tone soothing. "Come in."

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter her apartment. Kaz followed her, feeling a mix of nerves and determination swirling inside him. He noticed the cozy atmosphere of her living room, dimly lit with a few lamps casting warm light across the space.

As they walked towards her bedroom, Kaz stole glances at her, trying to read her expression. She seemed uncertain yet patient, as if she understood the weight of his intentions but wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

Inside her bedroom, she turned to face him, her gaze searching. "Let's take it slow," she suggested gently, her voice a contrast to the nervous energy crackling between them.

Kaz nodded, his heart racing in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil of emotions churning inside him. This moment felt surreal, both daunting and exhilarating.

They stood facing each other, a palpable tension hanging in the air. Kaz noticed the way her eyes softened as she studied him, as if she could see past his walls and into the vulnerability he kept hidden.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

She took a step closer, closing the distance between them. Kaz felt his breath catch in his throat as she reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm. 

"You're trying," she said softly, her gaze unwavering. "That's what matters."

He nodded, grateful for her understanding even as he struggled with his own expectations. Kaz knew he had to push past his fears, but the fear of failing Inej loomed large in his mind.

"I just..." Kaz started, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "I don't want to mess this up."

Her expression softened further, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Have you ever kissed someone?"

"Not exactly," he muttered.

"You don't have to force yourself."

"Maybe I do," Kaz replied, releasing a few shaky breaths. With all the patience in the world, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. She tasted like cherries.

He took a few steps back, unsure. The world didn’t stop turning; he didn’t drown. He took a bit more courage, resting his gloved hands on her waist. Kaz tried to lean into the contact, to let their lips move against each other for more than a brief instant. She was cold, why was she always so cold? Inej burned under his touch; y/n felt like ice. Inej, he should be kissing Inej. Kaz pulled away from the brief contact again, with heavy breaths.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

He nodded, and her gaze softened. “You’re trembling, Kaz. Do you want to sit?”

They moved to the bed, where he noticed her tablet on with a paused show open. She was really about to go to sleep when he arrived. Their noses were inches apart, and it already felt too much.

“Talk to me,” she said gently.

“You taste like cherries,” escaped from his mouth.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“What does Inej taste like?” she leaned closer, brushing her nose against his.

“Like the sea,” he murmured, gazing one last time at her lips before pressing them into a kiss. Kaz tried to stay present, focused. His body wanted to react, to ask for more, but his mind kept him on a short leash. He managed to tangle one hand in her hair, to have more control. The girl slightly opened her lips, inviting him in, and he didn’t know what to do. He knew that people kissed with tongues, but he never grasped the mechanics of it.

Sensing his hesitation, y/n opened her mouth more, waiting for him to go further. Kaz’s heart was racing; he was sure he was about to have a stroke. All of her body was ice cold, but the hotness radiating from inside her mouth seemed to come directly from hell. y/n brushed her tongue on his lips, and he forced himself to respond. But as their tongues touched, he was back in the harbor, and water was filling his lungs.

Panic surged through him, and he pulled back, gasping for air. His chest heaved as if he were drowning, the sensation all too familiar and terrifying. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes and cursed himself for his weakness.

A wave of nausea made his body tremble. “Shit, are you going to throw up?” asked the girl, panic evident in her voice.

He nodded frantically, trying to stop his body from convulsing. She quickly passed him a bucket just in time for him to empty his stomach into it. The acrid smell and the sound of his retching filled the room, amplifying his embarrassment and frustration.

She went to open the window, letting the fresh air in. The cool breeze helped ground him a bit. “You don’t have to rush, Kaz,” she said, passing him a few tissues to wipe his mouth.

“I just wanted to... I have been doing better these past days,” he muttered, wiping away the remnants of his failure.

“Yeah, you are, don’t worry,” she assured him, her voice gentle. Without thinking, she rested her hand on his back, making small circles. He didn’t even notice it, from how natural it felt, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be comforted.

“So she’s coming tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes, she’s staying for a few weeks,” he replied, his voice tinged with anticipation and anxiety.

“You must be happy.”

“I am. I haven’t seen her in three months.”

“Special plans? Oh, you know where you should take her? I saw this place where they do this wine and chocolate tasting thing, must be super romantic.”

Kaz chuckled, imagining Inej in such a fancy place. The thought of her delicate features scrutinizing overpriced chocolate made him smile. “Are you going?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his own nervousness.

The girl snorted, a sharp contrast to the soft concern she had shown moments before. “Yeah, sure, with who exactly?” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t know, that guy from the club?” Kaz suggested, feeling the awkwardness of the question. He didn’t know why he was prying into her personal life. Maybe it was an attempt to normalize their interaction, or maybe he just wanted to understand her better.

“We’re not seeing each other anymore. We weren’t very compatible,” she said, her tone dismissive.

Kaz wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Was he supposed to apologize? Or assure her that she would find someone else? The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable.

“It’s a bit late, Kaz. What do you want to do?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Better go home,” he said, gathering his things. He stole a last glance at her, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and discomfort. He was about to thank her, but then remembered the substantial amount of money he gave her to come over so late. It felt odd to focus on the transactional nature of their relationship when she had seen the most vulnerable parts of him. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he muttered a simple, “Goodnight,” and headed straight for his car.

As he drove home, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He couldn't shake the feeling of failure, the constant fear that he would never be able to be the man Inej deserved. The taste of her, the way she felt under his touch, was supposed to give him hope, but all it left was a hollow ache in his chest. He was trying, but it never felt like enough. As he pulled into his driveway, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Tomorrow, he would see Inej. And he had to be better for her. He had to be stronger.

***

Kaz got off the phone and threw it at the wall. The device clattered to the floor, its screen now cracked—a physical manifestation of his frustration. Inej wasn’t coming back. She had just called to talk about a new opportunity someone had proposed to her, and she had to be there. He was proud of the work she was doing, truly, but he couldn't help but feel left in the corner, an afterthought.

Inej had assured him it would only take a few days, that he wouldn’t even notice her absence. He chuckled bitterly at that. Easy for her to say—she wasn’t the one left behind to wait. She was always off on some new adventure, while he remained stuck, paralyzed by his own demons.

His phone buzzed, dragging him back from his spiraling thoughts. Reluctantly, he picked it up. It was a message from Jesper: 'Just talked to Inej. I’m sorry. Want to get drunk?' Kaz stared at the screen for a moment before replying with a simple thumbs-up. It was a weak attempt to push his emotions aside, but it was all he could manage.

With a heavy sigh, Kaz checked Instagram. As he scrolled through the endless stories of people he didn’t care about, one caught his eye—y/n pre-gaming with her friends before heading out. It was a boomerang of her getting on her knees and throwing her head back while another girl poured liquor directly into her mouth from a bottle. 

He felt a strange pang of jealousy mixed with irritation. Here he was, struggling with his emotions, and there she was, seemingly carefree and reckless. Guess he wasn’t the only one getting drunk that night, but at least she seemed to be having fun.

Kaz tossed his phone onto the couch and sank into his armchair, his thoughts a tangled mess. He thought about Inej, about how much he missed her. He thought about y/n, about the absurdity of their last encounter. His mind was a whirlwind of frustration, loneliness, and longing.

A knock at the door broke through his reverie. Jesper stood on the other side, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a mischievous grin on his face. “Ready to forget your troubles for a night?”

Kaz managed a weak smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They settled into the living room, and Jesper poured two generous glasses. They drank in silence at first, the alcohol burning a path down Kaz’s throat and dulling the edge of his thoughts. It was a temporary reprieve, but he welcomed it.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jesper asked after a while, breaking the silence.

Kaz shrugged. “There is no plan. Just get through the night.”

Jesper nodded, raising his glass in a silent toast. “To getting through.”

As they drank, Kaz’s thoughts kept drifting back to y/n. He wondered what she was doing now, if she was thinking about him at all. He knew it was ridiculous—she had her own life, her own problems. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of connection he had felt during their last meeting, despite everything.

He took another sip, trying to drown out the confusion in his mind. Tonight, he would let go, just for a little while. Tomorrow, he would pick up the pieces and try again.

Kaz and Jesper made their way to the Crow Club. He was already leaning heavily on his cane, the weight of the evening and the alcohol slowing him down. The queue outside was longer than ever, but being the owner had its perks. As they passed the waiting patrons, Kaz spotted y/n out of the corner of his eye. She was with her friends, laughing and swaying slightly, clearly already enjoying their night.

He knew he shouldn’t acknowledge her, but he was already a bit drunk and still simmering with anger and frustration over Inej. Impulsively, he gestured towards the girls. “You four,” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise. y/n’s intoxicated eyes widened in surprise. “Come with me.”

The girls followed, giggling and chattering amongst themselves. Kaz led them through the club, bypassing the main floor and heading straight to the VIP area. He offered them a prime table, ensuring they had a good view and plenty of attention from the waitstaff.

Kaz and y/n locked eyes for a brief moment before he turned to leave, making his way to the even more secluded private area with Jesper.

“Kaz, what was that?” Jesper asked, his eyes wide with curiosity and amusement.

Kaz shrugged, trying to play it off. “Don’t know, they looked cold waiting outside,” he mumbled.

“Sure, try to invent something better for next time,” Jesper laughed. “Or should I tell Inej?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Kaz bristled at the mention of Inej. “Tell her what? That I made four hot girls skip the queue so that some guys will offer them drinks and spend their money in my club? Sure, tell her.”

“There’s no need to get so defensive,” Jesper said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just messing with you.”

Kaz sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been a long day, Jesper.”

Jesper nodded, his expression softening. “I get it, man. You miss her. But you’ve got to trust that she’ll come back. And in the meantime, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

Kaz stared into his drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. “It’s just hard,” he admitted. “Inej is out there, doing amazing things, and I’m stuck here, trying to keep everything together. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Jesper clapped him on the back. “You’re doing your best, Kaz. That’s all anyone can ask for. Now, let’s get drunk and forget about our problems for a while.”

Kaz managed a small smile, raising his glass in a toast. “To forgetting our problems.”

They clinked glasses and drank deeply, each sip a temporary reprieve from the turmoil of their lives. Tonight, Kaz allowed himself to drift away from the weight of responsibilities and emotions that usually anchored him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from y/n.

‘Thanks for the table, where’s your hot girlfriend?’ she teased.

‘Had to delay,’ Kaz responded quickly, a touch of guilt creeping into his mind.

‘:(‘ came her disappointed reply.

‘Found someone to take you home?’ Kaz debated whether to send the message or not. Finally, he shrugged and decided to go for it. 'Fuck it,' he thought, 'it's just a text.'

Her response came swiftly, two messages popping up on his screen. ‘Still looking’ followed by ‘Want to step in? :)’

Kaz shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. ‘You wish,’ he typed back before tucking the broken phone back into his pocket.

Jesper, observing Kaz's exchange, couldn't resist teasing. “Who were you texting all smiling?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No one,” Kaz replied casually, attempting to maintain his usual composed facade. But Jesper's knowing look told him he wasn't fooling anyone.

“You're hiding something,” Jesper prodded, his voice filled with curiosity.

“Don't I always?” Kaz quipped, offering a crooked smile as he got up from the table.

Jesper chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as Kaz walked away. They both understood that tonight's laughter and camaraderie were brief respites from their respective troubles. Tomorrow, Kaz would face the reality of Inej's absence once more, and y/n would continue navigating her own tumultuous world. But for now, amidst the clinking of glasses and the dim lights of the Crow Club, they found solace in each other's company and the fleeting escape that alcohol provided.