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maybank5 · 7 months ago

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𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭

pairing ⤜ yn x jj / yn x rafe cameron

request ⤜ "something where JJ flirts with Topper’s sister, who’s super sweet with everyone and really fun to hang out with, not knowing she’s Rafe’s girl"

a/n ⤜ aww thank you babe for the lovely message and my first ever request!! it kinda took on a life of it's own, and i hope that's alright!!! also i cannot write rafe and jj without rafe being The Bad Guy so i hope you don't mind! i hope it turned out good for you and that you enjoy it a lot! sending hugs and love to you xx

song inspo ⤜ whiskey don't cheat, jay webb

"One whiskey please."

"On the rocks?"

"Excuse me?"

The man behind the bar squints at you, "You sure you're old enough to be here?"

"Of course," you flick your long hair over one shoulder, sit up straighter, hope you blend in well enough. It's just this isn't your usual place, and you know you must stand out like a sore thumb. From the look he's giving you, it's clear you don't belong. You reach into your purse and slap your ID down on the sticky wooden bar counter.

"Mm," he glances at the date, slides it back to you, "Have you ever even had whiskey before, princess?"

You frown, "No. But I'd like one whiskey please. To start."

"To start," his brows shoot up and he lets out a little bemused chuckle, "Alright. One whiskey, coming up. Never did determine if you'd like that on the rocks or not."

"On the rocks," you confirm, "And...can I get a couple maraschino cherries in that."

An amused smile crosses the bartender's face as he turns to prepare your drink. "Sure thing."

You put your elbows up on the bar, twist the gold ring around your thumb, before lowering your arms and crossing your hands in your lap. You feel awkward and out of place. Everyone else here is dressed so casually, and here you sit in your white sundress and heeled sandals. This isn't your usual side of the island, but you needed to get away, find some place to go where Rafe and your brother can't track you down; somewhere where no one will report back to either of them that they saw you throwing drinks back at a bar.

Sometimes it feels like there's no escape. Why you ever got with your brother's best friend is beyond you. The two of them report back to each other and discuss you like you're some sort of specimen. It still makes you queasy knowing that right after your first time, Rafe had texted Topper. Sometimes you just wanted to run away and leave them both in the dust.

So you'd come here, to this side of the island, to The Cut. You'd been here a few times before. You knew a few people that lived on this side. Had met a girl named Kiara at a Beach Clean-Up Weekend awhile ago, and she'd been really sweet. Then there was Sarah Cameron, infamous in the gossip among the Country Club. Rafe's sister who'd left, who'd gotten out. You would never admit it to anyone, but sometimes hearing the ladies gossip about her over their long island iced teas and games of bridge made you jealous. What would that be like...to run away from it all and leave it all behind?

You jolt as a glass is set down in front of you, three maraschino cherries speared with a plastic sword floating on the top.

"Thank you." You take a sip and immediately cough. It tastes like cough syrup and you can't help but wince.

"Need something lighter, princess?"

You look up at the bartender with a scowl. "No," you say, determinedly, "This is fine." And as if to prove something to him, you take another sip. It burns, but you don't cough this time.

"So you wanna tell me what's got a girl like you in a place like this, drinking a drink like that?" The bartender wipes his hands on a rag hanging from his pocket, leans his elbows on the bar in front of you. A little bit too close for comfort. You raise your eyes and get lost in the blueness of his. He's looking at you so intently. Rafe used to look at you like that, once upon a time. Now, you feel like you're barely even a blip on his radar. It makes you squirm to be under someone's attention like that.

"No," you say, "It's none of your business."

"Point taken," he raises his hands in surrender, backs off, and leaves you to your drink.

You felt like an idiot. You'd known you and Rafe weren't exclusive. Still though, you didn't realize that he was out running around sleeping with a bunch of other girls from Figure Eight, right under your nose, until that night. You felt cheap. Like a joke. Like everyone was laughing at a joke behind your back at your expense. And worse...Topper had known and hadn't said anything. Because why would he? When it came to "the boys" you knew you were not even a priority.

You finish off your whiskey, and another bartender comes over. "Another one, miss?" He asks.

"No thank you," you say, feeling already a little floaty from the first, "I think I'm ready for my bill."

"Sure thing." He disappears to the register and you put your forehead against your hand. You always were a lightweight when it came to drinking, and the hardest thing you'd ever had was champagne at New Year's. You pay your tab and head out. You spot the first bartender on his smoke break, sitting up on the wooden patio balcony. Something in your stirs, and before you can stop yourself, you make your way over to him. You jump up on the balcony, sitting on the other side of the column from him.

"Hey," he turns to face you, brows pulled together.

"Just...don't say anything," you say, "I need someone to talk to and if you're willing to listen...well, I guess you're as good as anyone."

A scoff. "You sure do know how to make a guy feel flattered."

"Shut up," you fight back a smile. You are not in the mood to smile tonight. Why is he making you smile? "You wanna know why I was here tonight drinking?"

"If you wanna tell me."

"It's stupid. I don't even know if it can count as cheating if I knew we weren't exclusive. I just...I didn't expect that."

"What happened?" The smoke of his cigarette drifts to you, making you feel floaty again, and you realize it's not tobacco he's smoking. You lean your head back against the wooden pillar.

"I found out my boyfriend has been seeing other girls. And not just seeing them either, but like, sleeping with them. Lots of them. And I know we weren't exclusive, and I probably have no right to be upset by this, but I just...I feel sick. And the worst of it is he's my brother's best friend, and he knew and didn't tell me. Because clearly I'm not the one his loyalty lies with."

"Fuck," he passes you the rolled paper between his finger, "Sounds complicated."

You aren't a big smoker, but you put it to your lips anyway and take a hit.

"Thanks," you say, passing it back to him.

"What are you gonna do?"

"No idea," you say, running a hand through your hair, "Part of me tells me to just break up with him, end it. Walk away and let him just do whatever he wants like he's gonna do anyway."

"And the other part?"

"It's complicated. We've been together for so long. He's all I know."

"Sounds like you need to get to know some new things."

"Probably," you say.

"For what it's worth," he says, taking another hit and passing it back to you, "I think it's bullshit what he's doing to you, and you deserve better than that."

"I've already closed my tab," you say, "You don't need to gun for a tip."

He tosses his head back and laughs, "Damn," he says after a moment, "Your boyfriend really doesn't know what he's missin' out on, does he?"

You blush, bring your thumbnail to your lip to bite.

"You want some unsolicited advice? It's kinda my specialty, bein' a bartender an' all..."

"Sure," you say; what could it hurt. Besides, who else have you got to talk to about this?

"I think you should dump his ass. Kick him to the curb. It's not even about being exclusive, it's about taking your feelings into consideration; about respecting you."

You feel your stomach tighten. "That's exactly how I've been trying to explain my feelings to myself," you say in disbelief, "You just put it perfectly into words! I feel disrespected, like how I feel about it just doesn't matter. To him or to my brother or anyone from that fucking place."

"You know, princess, The Cut isn't a closed club. If you're ever needing to get away from Fig Eight, you know where to go."

"Thank you," you can't help but smile, "That's sweet of you."

"Gettin' called sweet from the girl who can't order a drink without maraschino cherries," he chuckles softly. A familiar rumble pulls you from your thoughts. The black Range Rover has pulled up in front of the bar and you feel sick as you see Rafe slam the door shut and hop out. Topper's behind the wheel.

"Y/N!" Rafe calls. You feel sick as he marches over to the patio.

"Rafe Cameron is your boyfriend?" The bartender raises his brows in disbelief.

You wince. Of course he knows who Rafe is. Rafe has a reputation across the entire island.

"Yes," you admit.

"Good," he says to your surprise, dropping the joint and hopping up from the balcony, cracking his neck, "Rafe and I have history."

"What's that mean?" You ask.

"Maybank!" Rafe hollers as he storms over.

"Look what the tides dragged in. Lost, Cameron?"

"Fuck off, Maybank. I'm here for one reason only and that's to get Y/N. She's the one that's lost here. C'mon, Y/N. You don't belong here. I still can't believe you just took off like that! Thank God for Find My Iphone because Topper and I'd never have been able to track you down. Get in the car, we're going."

"The hell we are," you stand your ground, suddenly feeling brave with "Maybank" standing at your side.

"Pardon?" Rafe raises a brow, "C'mon, Y/N. Let's go."

Topper rolls down the window of the Rover, leans his head out, "C'mon, Y/N. Stop throwin' a tantrum and get in the damn car."

"No," you say, crossing your arms, "I don't have to go anywhere with you, Rafe Cameron. In fact, we're done. As of this moment. You are free, go fuck whoever you want, do whatever you want, but just know that I'm done. This is over."

"This is your doing," he turns on the bartender at your side, "I know you've got into her head somehow, JJ."

"JJ" just shrugs, "Maybe. Or maybe your ex is smart enough to come to her own decisions and that decision is that she's better than whatever it is you've got to offer. Which trust me," JJ raises a brow and smirks, "From what I hear from the ladies, isn't much."

Rafe takes a step forward. So does JJ.

"You don't want to do this," Rafe says.

"Oh, but you see I do. You forget, Cameron. It's you who doesn't want to do this. How many reminders do you need, that every time you cross me, it's you who loses. Runs back to Fig Eight with his tail between his legs."

"Fuck you, Maybank."

"You've got twenty seconds to march back to that Rover and for you and your lap dog to get the fuck out of here."

You stare in shock as Rafe's fist clenches at his side, but he does as JJ's said.

"This isn't over, Maybank," Rafe calls over his shoulder.

"Always a pleasure, Cammy," JJ says, giving a little wave as Rafe climbs back into the Range Rover.

"Whoa," you turn to him.

"Yeah," JJ runs a hand through his hair sheepishly, "Sorry about that. I probably shouldn't have stepped in like that without your signal, I just...I cant stand that guy. Either of them."

"Yeah, me either," you say with a little chuckle, "That was pretty impressive though. How did you do that though? How did you get him to back down like that? Rafe doesn't back down from a fight. Ever."

JJ smirks, "Let's just say it's not our first rodeo. He knows better than to mess with me, or any of my friends."

"And does that include me?" You raise a brow.

A smile crosses his face as he holds out his hand for you to take, "What do you think?"

You join him back inside for the remainder of his shift. Instead of whiskey, he and the other bartender, whom you come to learn is named Pope, keep you spoiled in Shirley Temples. The three of you chat, and as the night carries on, you feel a comfort settle over you that you've never experienced before.

After their shift ends, JJ invites you over to come hang out at their place with some of their friends.

"Yeah," you say, taking the hand he offers you, "Like you said, it's high time I get to know some new things. Introduce me to your world, Maybank."

You spend the night hanging out with him and his friends, Pope, John B, and come to find Sarah Cameron and Kiara are also very good friends with JJ. You spend the night laughing and playing board games with them, drinking PBR (which you realize you can handle much better than whiskey; even if JJ teases you and asks if you're sure you can drink beer without cherries in it).

It's almost three in the morning when Kiara puts some music on the porch speakers. JJ reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you out to the grass to dance with you under the moonlight.

You know tomorrow you're going to have to face the consequences of this night. You're going to have to go home and have a proper conversation with Rafe Cameron. At the end of the day, he's still important to you, and you want to end things the right way. You're going to have to face Topper too, and deal with his comments. And you know the ladies at the Country Club are fixing to have some new gossip to add to their rosters. It's worth it though. It'll all be worth it, for more nights like these, with friends like those, and dancing with a boy like this under the moonlight.

#jj maybank fic #jj maybank x yn #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #rafe cameron #obx fic #outer banks fic #obx imagine

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literaryvein-reblogs · 7 months ago

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More Writing Notes: Cocktails

Traditionally, a cocktail (or a mixed drink) is a beverage that contains a mixture of alcoholic spirits combined with other ingredients, such as simple syrups, tonics, bitters, fruit juice, club soda, or other fizzy waters.

Today you can also find a variety of nonalcoholic spritz cocktails that combine alcohol-free spirits with mixer ingredients.

6 Mixology Tools

Bar spoon: long-handled spoon that makes it easy to stir drinks in tall glasses or pitchers.

Citrus juicer: extracts juice from citrus fruits and vegetables by shredding the flesh of the food item.

Cocktail glasses: there are several different shapes of cocktail glasses, and each corresponds to a different type of mixed drink.

Cocktail shaker: A shaker is a tall container (usually metal) that makes it easy for bartenders to shake crushed ice and cocktail ingredients together to quickly cool down the beverage.

Cocktail strainer: The strainer fits over the shaker and lets you pour the cocktail into the glass while leaving behind the ice and any other ingredients, like herbs, that you used to shake the cocktail.

Muddler: When a cocktail recipe includes directions to muddle ingredients, usually fruit or herbs, it means to smash them to release the essential oils and fruit pulp. A muddler is a small handheld rod that lets you easily muddle ingredients in a cocktail glass.

Some Popular Cocktails

Bloody Mary: This classic brunch cocktail contains vodka mixed with tomato juice, horseradish, Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, and a combination of herbs and spices. Bartenders typically serve a Bloody Mary in a tall glass, such as a pint glass or highball glass, and garnish with a celery stick.

Daiquiri: One of the classic rum cocktails, a daiquiri contains rum (white rum or Cuban rum), lime juice, and simple syrup. Today’s drink menus typically contain a variety of daiquiris that range from classic cocktails like the Hemingway Daiquiri (which contains lime juice, grapefruit juice, and Italian maraschino liqueur) to fruity cocktails like a shaken strawberry daiquiri.

Gimlet: Contains three ingredients: vodka (or gin), fresh lime juice, a splash of simple syrup for added sweetness, and an optional lime wedge for garnish.

Manhattan: Containing whiskey (or sometimes cognac), sweet vermouth, and a few dashes of bitters, the Manhattan is a simple yet elegant cocktail. The classic cocktail, which was invented in New York, is stirred, not shaken, and garnished with a maraschino cherry.

Margarita: There are several variations of margarita recipes. The classic margarita is served over ice cubes and contains lime juice, tequila (or mezcal), orange liqueur (such as Cointreau or triple sec), and lime and salt for the garnish. Experiment with other flavors—use lemon juice instead of lime, add a dash of agave syrup to sweeten the drink, or add a hint of spice with the addition of a few slices of jalapeño. For those who prefer fruit flavors, try making a watermelon, pomegranate, or strawberry margarita.

Martini: The classic martini is a boozy cocktail. The original contained three parts gin to one part vermouth with an olive or onion to garnish. A vodka martini calls for vodka in place of gin. Other drinks—such as an espresso martini, fruity drinks, or vodka cocktails like a cosmopolitan (often called a Cosmo), pear, or apple martini (also called an appletini)—are not considered martinis. Instead, they get their name from the cocktail glass.

Mint julep: Famous as the refreshing cocktail served at the Kentucky Derby horse racing events, a mint julep contains bourbon, simple syrup, and a muddle of mint. It’s typically served over crushed ice with a sprig of mint leaves.

Mojito: A highball cocktail with origins in Cuba, the mojito is a popular cocktail across the globe. Mix up white rum, sugar, mint, lime, and club soda (or soda water), and then add ice. The mojito is often called a perfect summer cocktail.

Moscow mule: Contrary to its name, the Moscow mule cocktail likely originated in New York, not the Russian capital. To make the fizzy drink combine vodka, ginger beer, and lime juice, and garnish with lime slices and sprigs of mint. It’s usually served in a copper mug, though food experts note the copper does not impact the flavor of the drink.

Negroni: With its balance of sweet and bitter, a classic Negroni is an ideal apéritif. Combine equal parts gin, Campari (or Aperol), and sweet vermouth. Shake them with ice and serve the drink with an orange twist. Other varieties of Negronis add additional layers of flavors using ingredients such as orange bitters, Champagne or prosecco, and a lime or lemon twist.

Piña colada: This favorite summer cocktail, which reportedly originated in San Juan, Puerto Rico, is traditionally made with white rum, pineapple juice, cream of coconut, and a squeeze of lime juice, and served with fresh pineapple for garnish. Blend the ingredients with ice cubes to create a slushie drink.

Tequila Sunrise: With only three ingredients, fresh orange juice, tequila, and grenadine syrup, the Tequila Sunrise tastes best when you use high-quality ingredients. White tequila is recommended for a fresher taste and a more vibrant color. You can make a variation of the cocktail called the Coconut Sunrise, which uses coconut rum instead of tequila.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Food History

#writing notes #cocktail #writeblr #food #spilled ink #writing reference #literature #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #dark academia #writing prompt #poetry #light academia #creative writing #fiction #writing resources

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hazbinshusk · 4 months ago

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overlord!husk x bunny!reader x transmasc!partner. when you stumble into the private bar of a certain casino-owning overlord, you find him charmed rather than irritated by your presence. when he propositions you and you tell him that you have a boyfriend, husk isn't daunted. he's intrigued.

so happy and flattered to have been asked to write this smutfic for @mckeeks by their absolutely wonderful partner @top-shelf-tender for valentine's day. this is my first time writing a threesome fic featuring a non-canon character alongside the reader, and it was so much fun to do! happy valentines to the both of you, my loves!

featuring: smut, husk is kind of sleazy, oral sex, vaginal sex, threesome, thigh-riding. partner is unnamed and transmasc, and hell is gender-affirming because I say so, so they have markings where their top-surgery scars would be and both sets of genitalia. again, because I say so.

The Overlord notices you before you do him, but his attention still leaves goosebumps prickling against the back of your neck in a way that has nothing to do with the way the cool breeze of the air conditioning caresses the bare skin of your arms, your thighs. You’ve wandered into one of the more secluded areas of the casino, the sounds of tumbling slots and excited players muffled and replaced by the soft, playful chords of jazz music and the muted conversations of the few sinners around you. The spicy-sweet scent of cigar smoke tickles at your delicate nose as you order a drink from one of the imp waitresses. Confusion wrinkles your brow for a moment as she hesitates, glancing over your shoulder for a few seconds before nodding and heading to the bar.

Despite the pause you still get your drink, and you find a seat at an isolate table towards the side of the room. The boozy mix of maraschino cherry and gin is cool and fresh against your tongue, the alcohol joining the previous drinks already muddling the edges of your mind. There’s this buzzing in your skin; an awareness that doesn’t seem to be dulled at all by the alcohol, those instincts that seem to have come hand in hand with your sinner form keeping a wariness itching inside you.

It doesn’t seem to unsettle you though… instead there’s a warmth that curls in your stomach and up against the small of your back. So, when a tall, silver-furred hellhound approaches your table, you don’t feel all that surprised.

“Stand up,” he tells you gruffly. “The boss wants you at his table.”

You blink, an ear twitching as you set your glass on the table in front of you. “The—”

“Let’s go.”

Shit.

You almost stumble over your heels as you do as your told, the chair legs catching briefly on the carpet. Your face warms with nerves as you realise what you’ve done.

You’ve managed to walk yourself right into the private lounge of the gambling overlord himself.

Following obediently after the hound to the opposite corner of the room, you run your palms over the skirt of your dress, nervously smoothing away non-existent wrinkles in the sparkling fabric. The bar is dimly lit and the glow of the overlord’s eyes is the first thing you notice as they watch you, half-lidded, as you cross the bar to his table. The demon takes a long drag of his cigar as the hound pulls out a seat and guides you into it with a genial hand against the middle of your back. The smoke curls around the overlord’s features as he studies you with a weighted gaze that seems to heat your very core.

“You’re new.”

You open your mouth, close it again as you fail to find your reply. His voice is rough but melodic, a hypnotic blend of torn velvet and warm honey that makes you shiver. When you don’t respond, his smile curves wider with amusement, his claws sounding a quiet tink against the crystal of his whiskey glass as he picks it up. He takes a sip, unbothered by the burn of it, before he continues.

“I’d remember you.”

You swallow as the heat doubles in your cheeks, and you finally find your voice again. It quavers slightly, and you twist your fingers together in your lap beneath the table. “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t realise this was your private… area.”

“The security outside didn’t tip you off?” he asks with a raised, red brow. Off your look, his smirk widens, and he turns his head to address the hound now standing beside him casually. “Roscoe, remind me to give Dex a bonus. He always has the best taste.”

The silver hound – Roscoe – nods, hands tucked behind his back. “Yes, sir.”

The exchange makes you shiver; a fly, served up to a spider in its web.

“I should go,” you offer, your tone deferential, polite. “I was just looking for somewhere quiet, and—”

“In a casino?” the Overlord seems entertained by your explanation. He raises a hand, and moments later another drink is set on the table in front of you. His whiskey is replaced, too.

“I never said it was logical,” you defend yourself, waving a hand pointedly up at one of your ears, the one that bends down against your hair, the tip of it brushing your forehead like bangs. “They’re kinda sensitive.”

He chuckles, and the sound of it almost feels as though it pulses into you. “I bet they are…”

You press your thighs together under the table, feel the cold wet of condensation against your fingers.

The Overlord leans forward on the table, his wings shifting, spreading slightly behind him imposingly. “Your luck turn on you, doll?”

You shake your head, fidgeting with the stem of your cocktail glass. You take a sip, hoping the booze will banish the tension you feel tightening almost addictively in your stomach. “I’m not actually much for games of chance.”

The words slip out before you consider them, and you bite your lip. The cat demon’s smirk only widens though, and his eyes watch your nose twitch almost predatorily. “Smart girl.”

You breathe a soft laugh despite yourself, and for a brief moment, you think maybe his pupils actually widen at the sound. “It’s not really about being smart, I just… how lucky can I be if I’m in Hell?”

The Overlord snickers, letting his gaze travel down over you for a moment, every inch of you warming under his glowing gaze. He takes a long drag from his cigar, eyes returning to yours, and when he speaks his voice comes huskily, a tone low enough for just you to hear. “Ever thought about tryin’ to make your own luck?”

Something in his question makes you bold, and you finish your drink, lick the sweet liquor from your lips with the tip of your tongue. “And how do I do that?”

He swallows the last of his whiskey, waving away the bottle immediately offered by a nearby imp. Instead, he gestures to the hellhound, standing up and rounding the table towards you. “Find Roscoe here, later. He’ll show you to my private suite.”

The suggestion in his voice is enough to make your breath catch. Excitement rises unbidden inside you at the suggestion, the promise in his voice. “I…” you clear your throat, remembering yourself. “I have a boyfriend.”

The Overlord smirks, smoke curling around his muzzle as he leans down to speak in your ear.

“Bring him.”

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

Everything between telling your partner about the offer you’d been made and you now kneeling on the Overlord’s plush carpet floor was a blur. You’d mentioned it teasingly, a joke that the two of you could laugh about as a what-could-have-been anytime you passed by the Lucky Hearts Casino, even as your face had flushed with the pink of arousal, of possibility. And now that pink burns in your cheeks again as you watch the Overlord light a fresh cigar, considering the two of you with bright, hungry eyes. He smirks when his eyes fall to where your fingers are laced with your partner’s between you.

“Oh, sweet girl…” he croons, relaxing back into the soft fabric of the armchair he’s reclining in. His tail twitches back and forth slowly, and his tongue slips out to lick slowly against the side of his muzzle. “Don’t you two jus’ make up the prettiest pair of playthings?”

You swear you can feel your partner’s pulse drumming against your fingers, their anxiety, their excitement mirroring your own. The Overlord had welcomed the two of you into his suite with a knowing, cocky smirk, and the burn of the drinks he’d plied the two of you with still burned a little against your parted lips. The demon exhales a trail of smoke towards the ceiling before he leans forward in his seat to bring his face level with yours. He takes your face in one paws, claws digging into your cheeks as he tilts your face back. His smirk widens as he holds your gaze for a moment as though he’s considering you, and then his mouth is on yours.

His kiss is warm and rough and intoxicatingly demanding, tasting of whiskey and smoke and something you’re sure is just him – his tongue slides against yours, surprising you with its rough texture, and your hand tightens in your partner’s as you whine into the Overlord’s mouth. His fangs catch briefly on your bottom lip as he pulls away, and you whimper. He holds your gaze long enough to catch your reaction, see the way you lean forward instinctively to chase his lips, before he moves to kiss your partner too.

You watch the two of them like you’re suddenly starving for the way they look together, a thrill curling through you as your boyfriend leans up into the embrace, as you catch glimpses of their tongues meeting. The Overlord’s claws are curled around his throat, the point of his thumb claw digging tauntingly into his raised chin. Your partner dares to raise a hand to cup the Overlord’s cheek, and the cat chuckles into the kiss before he finally pulls away.

“Mmmm…” he hums almost thoughtfully as he settles back in his chair, pleased, and takes another drag from his cigar. The claws of his other hands trail over his thigh idly, as though he isn’t fully aware of it, and they linger over the fastening of his pants. “Y’know, guests really should make a point of thankin’ their host.”

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

You lick slowly up along the length of the Overlord’s hard cock, the barbs tickling along the flat of your tongue. Your fingers curl in the soft fabric of his trousers, tugging them further open, baring more of him to the two of you. You can’t help but moan as you feel your boyfriend’s tongue meet yours, curling around the other side of the cat demon’s cock as he mirrors your moments. The Overlord groans, head falling back as the two of you tease the head of him.

The sound turns to a heady chuckle as he watches the two of you kiss, your fingers curling around the base of his cock and pumping him slowly. You’re straddling your partner’s thigh, and you can’t help but gasp into his mouth as you grind down against it, matching the pace of your hips with the pace of your hand. You can feel his familiar smile against your lips, feel him bite teasingly at your lip as he mumbles, “That’s my eager girl…”

He kisses you again before he swirls his tongue around the Overlord’s cock and sinks his mouth down onto it, taking it in until he gags.

“Fuck…” The Overlord moans, wrapping a fistful of hair in his claws and tilting your head back. He tugs it harder when your hip still, pulling a gasp from your lips at the sudden flash of pain. “Did I say stop, doll?”

You shake your head, rolling your hips against your partner’s thigh obediently. You clutch at the Overlord’s thigh, your partner’s shoulder, feel the claws leave your hair to skim down over the side of your face. They trail over your shoulder, bare except for the strap of your bra, and one claw catches under it, dragging it down to your arm.

“Give daddy a show, baby.”

You hold his gaze as you unhook your bra, slipping the flimsy lace from your arms and tossing it aside. You can feel your partner’s eyes burning into you too as you run your hands over your chest, squeezing the soft, giving swell of your breasts. You nipples harden under your touch, sparks of pleasure with each flick of your fingers. The feathered end of the Overlord’s tail tickles over the small of your back, the curve of your ass, and you hold his gaze as you bring your mouth back to his cock.

The two of you make out almost sloppily, tongues and lips teasing over the demon’s cock. He thrusts up into your mouths, claws in your hair and your partner’s, and you take turns deep-throating him until you’re both gasping for breath, drool hanging in a thread from your lips. Your partner catches your cheek in his hand, wipes the saliva away with his thumb before he kisses you again. You practically melt into it, light-headed and breathless.

“I’d say the two of you might be the most wholesome little creatures in Hell if I ain’t just witnessed all that,” the Overlord smirks, stroking himself a few times before he pushes himself up to stand. He gives you both a dark, cocky smirk, reaching up with one paw to undo the buttons still fastened around his throat. His other hand comes down to stroke your partner’s cheek, and the sinner leans into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. “On the bed, the both of you. Now.”

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

You shiver as you feel the soft, soft fur of the Overlord’s chest press against your bare back, his claws claiming your hips. He has you kneeling on the bed in front of him, and you can feel the firm line of his erection pressing against the cleft of your ass. You push your hips back against it and he groans a quiet laugh in your ear, squeezing your hips and brushing a biting kiss to the curve of your throat.

“Easy, doll,” he tells you, tail tickling at your ankle. “We’ve got time for that yet, don’t we?”

“Do we?”

He breathes another laugh, rewarding your teasing with a kiss to your jaw. You whimper the barest breath of a moan in response, pushing your hips back into his again needily. He watches your partner over your shoulder, directing his next words to him. “She always this… enthusiastic?”

Your boyfriend is laid out on the bed before you, their legs parted as you slowly circle his clit with your fingers the way Husk had murmured in your ear. Their chest heaves with every laboured breath, a crease between their brow as you work them slowly undone. He nods, a breathless smile softening his features in a way that makes your heart flutter against your ribs. You want to bend down to kiss him, to catch his lips with yours and taste the quiet moan that escapes him, but the Overlord’s paws keep you anchored against him. When you dip your fingers into him and then raise your hand to trail your slick fingers along the line of his cock, he bucks up into your hand.

“Yes…” he sighs, eyes rolling back for a moment. He reaches down blindly, fingertips just managing to graze your thigh. “I fucking love it…”

Husk snickers, touching a claw to your chin and turning your face towards his. His voice is low and rough with desire. “So do I.”

He kisses you deeply, claws making you shiver as they tease over the soft flesh of your stomach, down to whisper over your inner thighs. One paw moves back up your body to squeeze your breast, curl around your throat, and your breath catches against his palm.

“Now, pet.” he tells you, his lips so close to yours you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. “You’re gonna be a good girl, and sit on his face, yeah?”

He relaxes his paw just long enough for you to nod, to breathe out an eager, “Yes…”

“And you’re gonna watch me make myself at home right there, right where those clever little fingers of yours are now.”

Again, he flexes his grip on your throat, and you partner moans again as you flick your fingers back over his clit. “Yes, sir…”

The cat’s smirk widens at that, his other paw slipping a little further up between your thighs. You know he can feel just how wet you are as his fingers graze the thin fabric of your underwear, and you ache with the need to feel something inside you.

“And you’re gonna show your boy here just how much you appreciate how he feels between these sinful thighs of yours by tellin’ me what to do.” he releases your throat just to press a kiss to it, the rough barbs of his tongue sliding against the sensitive flesh there. “Sound like somethin’ you can handle, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” you move your head in an attempt to catch his lips with yours, but he pulls away.

“Be a good girl, now,” he says, running his claws up the back of your thigh to squeeze the soft cottontail at the base of your spine. It makes you jump, your nose twitching. “And do as you’re told.”

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

Your back arches with the force of your moan as you feel your partner’s tongue press deep into you, his fingers playing almost too lazily with your clit. He echoes the sound, muffled by your thighs, as the Overlord laps his tongue up from his hole to the head of his cock. The demon is laid out on his stomach between his thighs, wings quivering as he grinds his own erection against the sheets. His tail waves behind him, his claws wrapped firmly around your partner’s thighs, forcing them to stay open to him.

“Fuck, right there…” you breathe, honestly unsure of which man you’re talking to. You lean forward, bracing your hands against your boyfriend’s chest so you can grind down against his mouth. He groans headily into your cunt as you trace your fingers lovingly over the markings that line the curve of his pectorals, your thumbs flicking over his nipples. “Right there, baby, fuck…”

The Overlord’s ears flick towards the two of you greedily, drinking in every little sound you make. An almost desperate urge to run your fingers through the soft fur between them overtakes you, and without thinking, you lean forward to do so. The gambler stiffens the moment he feels you fingertips graze his fur, but at the ridiculous softness of that hair draws you in and you sink your fingers into the thick fur. And when your nails graze along his scalp, the big bad Overlord does the most endearing thing you could possibly imagine –

He purrs.

The sound is a rough, chainsaw rumble that seems to vibrate into the very mattress beneath him, and your partner’ moans loudly into you, arching up under the Overlord’s mouth. The cat meets your eye, gaze aglow with arousal and need and what you swear is a warning not to say a fucking word about what you’re hearing, but still he arches his back in that gorgeous, fluid way only cats can seem to manage when you move your fingers lower to scratch at the base of his neck and between his shoulders.

“That’s it, sir…” you murmur, voice catching as your partner’s fingers quicken on your clit. You fuck yourself needily on their tongue, stroking your fingers through the Overlord’s fur. He has a paw fisted around the base of your boyfriend’s cock, his tongue on their clit. “That’s it, a little… faster… fuuuh—”

Your eyes roll back as your partner mirror’s the Overlord, fucking you on their tongue in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s thrusting his hips as best he can to press his cock further into the cat demon’s paw, the higher pitch to their muffled sound betraying just how close he is.

“Keep—fuck, keep going, I—” you feel your partner’s hand tighten on your thighs as you buck against his mouth, holding you in place over his tongue. The Overlord groans, that purr still rolling through his throat, and you choke out praise as you watch your partner’s body tense so hard his hips rise off the mattress. You’re so fucking close. “Good kitty…”

The Overlord jerks away from your partner, glowing eyes snapping to yours. There’s a strained, begging whimper between your legs, and your own orgasm slips out of reach, but you’re trying to fumble for an apology, a question, whatever that expression on the gambler’s face means. Your chest heaves, skin marked with the memory of bites and rough hands.

“Get up,” he tells you, voice rough and reedy and hot. You open your mouth to apologise, worried he’s ending the night there, but instead he says. “Turn around. On your knees.”

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

“Oh, God…” you bite back another moan as the Overlord fills your cunt with his cock, fucking you just roughly enough to send a wonderful prickling up along your lower back. Your fingers curl in the sheets beneath you, and you open your eyes when you feel your partner’s hand smooth over your cheek. The touch is soft, gentle, then he’s grasping at a handful of your hair and jerking your head back to meet his eye. The Overlord curses as you tighten around him. “Shit…”

“Fuck, she’s tight…” he growls, claws digging into your hips, your thighs. He releases one to squeeze a handful of your ass appreciatively, withdrawing his cock only to slide the barbs of it up against your slickened clit. He snickers when you whimper. “Ain’t too good at takin’ a hint though, is she?”

Your partner smirks, and there’s love and desire all mixed in with the darkness of his arousal, and he uses his other hand to squeeze your cheeks, urging your mouth open. He hums his approval when you slide your tongue down along the underside of his cock and take it into your mouth. “That’s my girl… fuck…”

The Overlord thrusts into you again, hard enough to force you forward and make you gag on your partner’s cock. He groans, hand flexing in your hair, savouring the softness of your locks even as you suck slowly up along the length of him. Every press of the Overlord’s hips into yours makes you take him further into your mouth; saliva dangles in a thread from your lips as you choke around him.

“Good girl…”

“Such a good girl…”

“Fuck…”

“Feel so fuckin’ good…”

You feel your partner lean forward, hear the sound of the two of them meeting above you, torrid moans and open-mouthed kisses. The Overlord squeezes your tail again, claws sinking into the delicate puff of fur to dig into sensitive flesh. In the same moment you feel fingers pinch your nipple roughly and you moan around the cock in your mouth as you cum. You gag again, and tears wet your cheeks as your partner holds you in place there for a few moments more, fucking themselves into your mouth with a groan. When they release you and you’re gasping, they brush the tears from your cheeks with loving fingers, and you take them back into your mouth the moment you have your breath again.

It’s practically them that is all that holds you up by the time they both approach their release, your arms and thighs shaking as you cum again. Your legs are slick with cum, drool dripping onto the back of your hand, an ache in your jaw, and one in your cunt and god, you hope they never go away.

Your partner strokes your ear as he cums, deep into your mouth with a groan of your name. You swallow eagerly, tongue curling around the head of him until he pulls out with a gasping, breathless laugh. He murmurs sweet nothings, cradling your overheated face in his hands until the Overlord cums, too, thrusting hard and deep into you as he growls a ragged curse.

He doesn’t pull out until you stop shaking, sliding the length of his cock up between your thighs a few teasing times before he sits back on his calves.

“Sweet Christ, fuck. That was…” he watches as you roll over, your head pillowed against your partner’s thigh as you press your own together, still trying to catch your breath. You can feel him run tender fingers through your hair, pulling it gently away from your face. The Overlord runs claws through the fur of his chest, seeming to consider the two of you for a moment before he huffs a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle and shakes his head. “That was fuckin’ something.”

#husk x reader #husk fic #my fic #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel x you #husk hazbin hotel #mckeeks #top-shelf-tender

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impala-dreamer · 7 months ago

Text

When The Rivers Rise

A Supernatural Story

~Alone and unprepared, Y/N goes to collect Dean from the bar and convince him to come home. Sam says he has a cure, and she'll be damned if she doesn't at least try to get Dean on board...~

Demon!Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

6,331 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Angst, Smut, Demonic Charm, Fingering and Fucking, Mild Violence, Canon Everything, Choking During Sex, Choking not during sex, Lose of consciousness, Yada Yada

A/N: So basically, I took S10 E2 & 3 and smushed this in there. Please enjoy. I did. Published to Patron June 5, 2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The Flamingo Lounge was filthy. The parking lot was fenced in, littered with trash; its brick walls covered in graffiti as if the city’s youth used it as a canvas. Luckily, though, it seemed empty.

Y/N parked her car in the lot, not caring to lock the doors behind her. She double checked the syringes stashed in her jacket, made sure her gun clip was full. Really, there was no way to know what she was walking into, but she had to try, had to do something.

And she had to do it quick. If she knew where he was, so did Sam, and God only knew what Sam would be planning.

She walked in through the side door, letting her heavy boots thud and announce her presence. There was no reason to hide, anyway. Sneak attacks were never her speciality.

Soft piano notes filled the air, a half plucked melody that never quite turned into a song.

The room smelled of lingering cigarette smoke and stale beer, whiskey and maraschino cherries. The bar stools were vacant, the room empty save for the bartender and her target. She stopped by the counter; blue neon light shining down on her face. She grit her teeth and cleared her throat.

The music stopped and he looked up with a smile.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Dean. Her pulse quickened.

“Didn’t expect to see you.” His jaw twitched as he looked her over. “Thought it’d be Sammy who came callin’.” He cocked his head to the side, cracking his neck unnaturally.

Not Dean.

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d come see you first. Save him a trip.” Her voice felt so small. It crackled in her ears as fear welled up inside. She’d been tracking Dean for months and now, standing half a room away, she felt unprepared and severely out matched.

Dean chuckled under his breath and spun on the piano bench. His legs spread as he straddled the cushioned wood and he rubbed a hand down his thigh. Green eyes were piercing through her and Y/N shivered. She hadn’t felt his stare in forever, hadn’t known she’d feel it ever again.

He stood and she instinctively reached for her pistol.

“You know you can’t just shoot me, Y/N.”

He blinked. Blackness overtook the green and her heart sank. He could see it in her face, smell it pulsing off of her like thick perfume. She was terrified, disappointed, intrigued.

He laughed and made his way to the bar. “Oh. You weren’t sure, were you?”

She swallowed hard. “Sure about what?”

“About me.” He nodded at the bartender and Harv took a walk, dropping his drying rag on the bartop. “You knew what happened, that I’m… different now. Better. But you didn’t really believe it, did you?”

Shit.

Y/N dropped her hand to her side, dug her nails into her palm to steady herself. “Not really, no.”

Another little laugh left his lips as he leaned over the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. He cast a glance back at her, his eyes green again, his gaze hungry.

“Well, believe it. I’m new and improved, babydoll.”

His tone washed over her. There was a new grit in his voice, a different confidence that was so unlike him but so very much Dean that it made her head hurt.

“You’re a demon.”

He shrugged and plucked two glasses from the drying rack, turning them over. “Yeah. Cool, ain’t it?”

Y/N bit her tongue hard, hoping the quick flash of pain would clear her head a bit. “Not cool, Dean,” she spat. “Evil.”

One elbow on the bar, he turned to face her and grinned. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t know evil if you were stuck in Hell with it. Which…” He looked around at the empty room and laughed. “I guess you kinda are.”

The emptiness of the room suddenly weighed down on her and Y/N took in a deep breath to steady her shaking hands.

Dean filled both glasses and then slid one across the bar for her. “Drink up. You’ll need it.”

Nervously, she stepped up to the bar and took the glass between her fingers. “Why? You gonna kill me?”

He sucked his teeth and let his gaze fall down her body, remembering, enjoying. “Maybe.”

Her heart thudded in her ears. “You haven’t decided yet?”

Dean knocked back his drink. “Nope.”

“That’s bullshit.” She took a sip and it burned down her throat.

“What?”

“You decided the second I walked in here.”

Dean refilled his glass while keeping one eye on her. “Actually, I didn’t. I was too curious to worry about what I’m gonna do to you.”

Y/N held the tumbler to her lips, breathed in the oaky fumes. “Curious?”

“Well, you walked in here, alone…” He licked his lips. “Lookin’- mighty tasty if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

Fuck.

Her blood sizzled. “I do mind. Asshole.”

Dean smirked and took a long drink. “And I thought to myself, Y/N’s a smart girl. She’s gotta have some kinda plan. Wouldn’t just walk in here by herself with no backup, no weapons, no nothing. She’s not an idiot.”

He paused to watch her reaction and found her stronger than he thought. She held his gaze without faltering and he moved closer.

“So, tell me, Y/N, was I right? Are you smarter than you look?” He licked a drop of whiskey from the corner of his mouth. “What’s the big plan?”

She refused to look at him lest she lose her nerve. She finished the last sip of whiskey and then pulled her weapons from her jacket. On the bar, she laid down her gun and three syringes filled with a harsh sedative. The smooth, eternally cool handle of the angel blade pressed into her side, but she kept it hidden beneath her shirt.

“There. There’s my plan.” She turned to face him and swept her hand over the weapons.

“You were gonna- what? Force me to OD?” He grinned, flashing perfectly white teeth and the pink tip of his tongue.

Y/N shook her head. “It wouldn’t kill you. Just knock you out.”

“And then?”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a confessional shrug. “Honestly, Dean, I didn’t think I’d even get this far, so… there’s no and then. Bring you home, I guess.”

“What if I don’t wanna go home?” he asked, taking a step closer. “What if I don’t have a home anymore?”

She held her breath. “You do. You’ll always have a home, Dean. Whether you want it or not.”

He laughed. “Lemme guess. Home is wherever you and Sam are. Where we chose to hang our hats.” He shook his head and sighed. “Home is dead, Y/N.”

Her heart ached. “It doesn’t have to be. If you come back with me, maybe we can-”

“What?” He cut her off. “Maybe we can pretend everything’s good? Play house? Oh, you wanna try being boyfriend and girlfriend again, act like we have a future?”

His words were a knife, but she bit her tongue again, refusing to give him a reaction. “Don’t be cruel, Dean. I’m trying to help you.”

He sucked in a breath and turned away. “See, I don’t really care about being helped. I’m fine. You’re the one who’s gonna need help in a minute.”

She pressed her arm down against the blade, reassuring herself that it was there and ready.

“You’re not gonna kill me, Dean.”

He looked back over his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

“Whatever happened to you,” she said, hope burning on her lips. “Whatever this is… It can be undone. You’re still you. You’re still Dean Winchester. You’re still-”

“Still what?” He spun on his heel and towered over her. “The man you love?”

Pain twitched around her eyes. “Yes.”

“You know what you are? You’re a sad little girl playing with shit she don’t understand.”

She stood up tall, finding strength in the marrow of her bones. “Sam has the cure. He can-”

Dean laughed and backed up, cocky and amused. “Sam’s probably dead right about now. I don’t know how much good his cure will do.”

Y/N froze. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Dean clicked his tongue and smiled. “Some assclown called me from his phone. Got baby Sammy all tied up in a shed somewhere doing… something. I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening. But, that was a while ago. I assume he’s…” He slit his throat with a single finger and stuck his tongue out, mocking Sam’s apparent death.

Y/N shuddered, unable to hide the truth from him.

“So you didn’t know.” He spun back to the bad. “Sorry. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

She cleared her throat, pushed the worry aside. “That’s exactly what I came to do.”

She took a chance, lunging for the gun on the bar, but Dean got to it first, expertly disarming it and tossing it aside.

“You’re too slow, Y/N. Always have been.”

He poured them another drink while she regrouped.

“Tell me, how is it you don’t know where Sam is? You two’ve been attached at the hip forever.”

A bit of whiskey sloshed out of her glass and flooded the bar. She went to it, lifting her cup from the mess. “Yeah, not so much anymore.”

Dean leaned in, condescendingly. “Wanna talk about it?”

Y/N took a drink. “No.”

A month ago, Sam was losing his mind to grief and obsession, pushing Y/N aside at every turn as he tried to find his brother. The last straw was a torture session in a barn in Kentucky. Sam was slicing up a demon, carving into its stolen flesh, and when Y/N protested, he hit her, knocking her back against the rotting walls. They tumbled, fighting, screaming at each other while the demon watched, cackling from the center of the Devil’s Trap. When the dust cleared and Y/N came up bloody and bruised, she spat in Sam’s direction and told him to go to Hell. That was the last she’d seen or heard from him. He was on the same mission, but going about it in all the wrong ways.

She stared at the neon sign behind the bar. “We’re not exactly speaking anymore.”

Dean hummed and refilled his glass. “Funny. You and me in the same boat.”

Y/N huffed. “I chose this boat, Dean. You didn’t.”

He grinned. “You don’t think so? You don’t know all the fun I’ve had this summer, all the trouble I’ve gotten into. All the tail I’ve chased… and gotten.” She flinched, but he kept going. “All the drugs, the fights, the booze. It’s been a great time. You should join me.”

She laughed bitterly and downed her drink. “Pass.”

He frowned, mockingly. “I’m sorry. Does hearing all that hurt your feelings? All those chicks I’ve banged, dudes I’ve nailed… makes ya jealous don’t it?”

Y/N sighed and turned to look at him. “No. Just sad for you. And them.”

He took a step and she balked, moving away from the bar, her defenses on edge.

“Come on, now. I’m the best you’ve ever had. And I’ve only gotten better.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Dean grinned. “Baby, you have no idea.”

He moved closer, stalking towards her, forcing her to back up. His eyes were fixed on her face, intent obvious. His mouth parted gently as his tongue came forth to tease her, wet his plump lips. A strange mix of panic and arousal swelled in her gut and she reached into her jacket, pulling the angel blade free.

“Stop!” She twirled the blade in her hand and held it out in warning.

Dean laughed. “Really?”

“This kills anything, right? Human, angel… demon. If you’re two outta three, I got a fighting chance.”

Her voice was shaking as hard as her hand and Dean kept coming, boots thumping the stained carpet.

“Stay back!” she yelled, spreading her feet and bending her knees, taking a fighting stance.

Dean swept forward in a flash and grabbed her wrist. He twisted hard and she held back a scream as the bones threatened to snap.

The blade fell to the floor.

“Get off me,” she snarled.

Dean’s right hand curled against her lower back and he leaned in close, breathing in her scent. “You don’t mean that.”

Frozen, caught and confused, she gasped as he bent to kiss her. Squirmed as his tongue poked between her lips, thrashed as his fingers tensed on her ass. Swooned as the kiss lingered.

Fuck.

It was warm and wet and so Dean. She hummed despite herself and freaked out when he pulled away. She slapped his chest, shoved him hard.

Again, he pulled her close and his lips found hers. He licked at her mouth and exhaled into her, flooding her brain with desire, washing her body in lust filled memory.

“Stop it!”

Once more, she shoved him back with all her might, but it only made him angry. He stumbled back a pace and dipped his chin, daring her, enticing her, tugging on every string.

Oh god…

“Just- stay back!”

Dean’s upper lip twitched and he bared his teeth, advancing on her like a wolf in the wilderness. He wrapped himself around her, pushing her back until she hit the piano. Nowhere to go, she melted in his arms, let him probe her hot mouth, let him slip his knee hard between her thighs.

She gasped, hating herself for loving him. Hating her love for getting in the way.

“Stop.”

He pulled back an inch, burning into her with familiar green eyes. “If you really want me to stop, I will. Just say it.”

His breath struck her face, that dreamlike mix of whiskey and smoke and long faded mint. Her eyes fluttered and her pussy clenched. “No.”

He grinned, let his fingers trail down her cheek to wrap loosely around her throat. “No you want me to stop or no, you don’t won’t say it?”

Unable to think, to speak, to reason herself out of the moment, Y/N grabbed at his flannel with both hands and tugged him down. She licked at his lips, sucked on his tongue until he growled against her, thrust his hips into her.

“Knew you were good to go,” he moaned, fumbling with the zipper of her jeans.

Y/N clawed a hand through his hair and tugged, yanking his head to the side and licking at the sacred vein. She pressed her lips there and felt his heart beating steady. He still had a heart.

“Miss you so much,” she whispered, half gasping as he tore at her bottoms, tearing the denim from her hips.

“Oh, I know you did.”

He grabbed at her sides, slid his hands up beneath her arms and lifted. Her bare ass squeaked on the piano lid and Dean closed in on her, pushing her onto her back with a heavy kiss. She spread her knees around him, tugged him closed with her heels on his ass. He snuck a hand between them and grinned against her lips.

“You did miss me, huh?”

She nodded, breathless as he shoved a finger into her.

“So tight.” He added another and she gasped. “Thought you’d be runnin’ around like a cat in heat without me, but looks like you’ve been a good girl. Kept yourself all tight and virginal for me.”

Her nails scraped at his scalp. “I don’t know about virginal…”

A third finger jammed into her and Y/N bit her lip as the stretch burned.

“You been fucking other guys behind my back?”

His ring finger barely made it inside and her pussy clenched down hard on him.

“Nah.” He grinned and nipped at her lips. “You ain’t been doing nothing but dreaming about me, have you?”

She wanted to scream, to push him off, to run, but there was no escape. Not when he had his lips on her throat and his body pressed so hard against her.

“Yes…”

He pulled his hand away and pressed two fingers to her clit, watching in delight as he eyes lit up and a silent scream filled her mouth.

“You could come with me, you know.”

She snapped her jaw shut tight. “No.”

Drawing his left hand firmly down her body, he stopped at her hip and tugged her shirt up, exposing the blank protective ink over the bone. His thumb ran over the tattoo. “Sure you could,” he explained. “I’ll just cut this off… drag some bitch outta Hell… stuff her into you.”

Her body jerked as he forced his hand back into her cunt and Y/N grit her teeth. “Wouldn’t be me then, would it?”

He paused and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess not.” He tugged the shirt up higher and smiled as the thin cotton of her bra did little to hide her pert nipple. “I like you like this anyway. All scared and confused.” He dropped down and sealed his lips around the bud, tugging hard.

Y/N squirmed and let out a cry that rang like music in his ears.

“Fuck, I missed that sound.” He sucked again and bit down. “The whores I’ve been picking up lately, they just- it ain’t the same.” He straightened up and looked down at her. “Sex is just sex until you learn someone’s body. You can’t really fuck someone the right way until you learn how. You gotta pay attention… learn what makes them… squirm. What makes them scream...” He crooked his fingers and Y/N squealed, her thighs slamming shut around his arm. “See? Just like that.”

“Fuck, please!”

Her lips were burning from his kisses, stubbled lips leaving the ghost of his touch behind. Her body was aching, throbbing from his fingers, dripping down onto the piano.

“Dean-”

He bit his bottom lip and let it fall slowly away. “Love hearing my name like that. Never gets old.”

He pulled away before she could cum, leaving her struggling and needy. She reached for him, but he slapped her hands away and unbuckled his jeans.

“Lay still,” he grit.

Y/N sealed her lips shut and clutched the hem of her shirt. She eyed the exit, thought about jumping down and taking her chances outrunning him, but before she could take a deep enough breath, Dean jutted his hips against her and his cock slipped between her swollen lips.

Her shoulders jolted upright and Dean grabbed the back of her neck, tugging her down toward the edge of the piano. Her ass was hanging, teetering off the side, and she grabbed at his shirt, holding on as he fucked deep into her.

“That’s it,” he grunted, one hand on her hip, the other on her throat. “Fuck, I remember this cunt. So fucking wet for me. So tight.”

She gasped, eyes wide, heart racing. His thumb covered her pulse and he pushed down just enough to blur the edges of her vision.

“D-Dean!”

His hips snapped upwards, his breath quickened. He squeezed her throat tighter and watched as the color drained from her lips.

“That’s it, babydoll,” he urged. “Gonna get you nice and dizzy so you cum hard. I know you like that…”

She could feel it building, that tightness inside as he hit every spot she’d been unable to reach herself.

Green eyes blurred in her vision and then with a grin, he snapped them to black.

Y/N came instantly, her cunt pushing and pulling on his thick cock; a flood of warmth slicking down his thighs.

“Yes…” He thrust harder. “Yes… Just like that!” His roar was intense and Y/N’s eyes began to roll, her heart struggling to beat. “Yes!”

The room was fading to white; her head was spinning. Still throbbing, her cunt was the only thing responding as Dean finished with a grunting cry. Just before her eyes rolled back, he released his grip and oxygen flooded her brain.

Y/N gasped and caught herself, falling back onto her elbows on the polished wood. “Fuck!”

Dean flashed a cocky grin and tucked himself away, uncaring of the mess. “You still got it, Y/N/N.”

His wink was uncalled for and aggravating, but Y/N had no energy to clap back at him. Carefully, she rolled onto her belly and slid off the piano. Her muscles were aching, her flesh on fire.

Dean headed back to the bar and poured another round. He walked a little slower, his voice rolled a little smoother off his devilish tongue.

“Can’t say I’m mad you stopped by,” he joked, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Turned out pretty good after all.”

Y/N yanked her jeans up and grimaced as the seam scraped at her raw pussy. “Just think how much better it would be at home, in the Bunker, where you belong.”

He laughed. “Really? After all that, you’re gonna try again?”

She stumbled forward, grabbing the bar for support. “I gotta keep trying, Dean. You need help.”

Sighing, he knocked back his glass. “See, that’s where you’re still wrong.”

Behind him, the door creaked open and Y/N’s eyes went towards the light.

Dean didn’t have to turn around, he knew.

“Hiya, Sam.”

Shit.

Sam let the door shut behind him and he walked in, arm held in a sling, face cut up and bruised.

He locked eyes with Y/N and her stomach tensed. They hadn’t spoken in weeks, and seeing him now, it all rushed back to her.

“Sam.”

He nodded at her and moved to stand equidistant from her and Dean. The triangle was a familiar one, but strange altogether.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes flickering between them.

Y/N swallowed down her anger and swept the sweaty hair from her eyes. “Same as you, I guess.”

Dean laughed. “I highly doubt he’s here for that, Sweetheart.” He brought his right hand to his lips and licked her taste from his fingers. “Unless…”

She shuddered and Sam’s brow creased.

“We’re gonna take you home, Dean,” Sam said, ignoring the obvious sexual confession. He turned his back on Y/N and focused on his brother.

Dean rolled his eyes. ”Yeah, I don’t think so. I told you to let me go.”

Sam’s shoulders tensed. “You know I can’t do that.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Well…” Reaching behind him, he pulled the First Blade from his belt and showed it to them both. “Sucks to be you, don’t it?”

For a moment, Y/N felt calm. Almost as if her soul had decided to give up all hope and accept the fact that Death was on His way. She exhaled slowly and imagined what it would feel like, that sharp jaw bone splitting her in half, gouging through her chest with one quick sweep of Dean’s hand. Would he be quick or let her linger? Would he weep for her in the end? Would he care?

Sam held up a hand, begging for patience. “Dean, you don’t have to do this. We can cure demons-”

Glass shattered behind Y/N and she turned to see the window break. A smoking canister landed by her feet and she looked at Dean, confused and flooded with panic. As her brain and feet got themselves together, the smoke rose around her and she covered her mouth and nose, too late. She started to choke her and beside her, Sam coughed loudly, waving at the smoke to push it away. He inhaled too deeply and stumbled forward, grabbing her shoulder for support. She buckled under his weight and fell to her knees in the cloud. It strangled her from every side, burning her lungs, stinging her eyes. She crawled towards the door and felt Sam’s big hand on her back, pulling her to her feet.

“Come on!”

He hit the door, pushing it open and knocking fresh air into the room, but it was already inside of them.

Y/N staggered out behind him, barely able to stay on her feet.

Confused and bleary-eyed she saw Sam fall, knocked out by a stranger’s fist.

She rushed out of the bar, leaving the smoke behind and slamming into the arms of Sam’s kidnapper.

“Who the hell are you?”

Blue eyes and a crew cut stared back at her and Y/N coughed, expelling poison from her lungs.

“Me?” she swayed on her feet and swatted at him. “Who the fuck are you!”

Cole grit his teeth and pulled a gun from his thigh holster, easily spinning to take Y/N in his arms and aim the muzzle at her temple.

From the back of the parking lot, Dean appeared, cool and seemingly unaffected by the attack. He held out his arms, cocked a brow as he looked at Cole, wondering who the fuck was bothering him now.

Y/N held still but seethed, nostrils flaring, anger sloshing about in her dizzy head.

Cole’s forearm pressed hard against her throat and he pointed the gun at Dean.

“Wow. It’s really you.”

Dean clicked his tongue. “We met?”

“Talked on the phone.”

“Right.” Dean laughed under his breath. “You’re the guy who’s supposed to put a bullet in Sammy’s brain.” He dipped his chin and smirked, cocky and unimpressed. “Did you miss?”

Dean took a step and Cole tightened up. Y/N clawed at his arm but didn’t have the strength to fight him off.

“Dean-” Her voice was shattered and weak.

Cole pressed the gun against her head again. “You stay there or I’ll-”

“What?” Dean leaned in casually. “You’ll put a bullet in her too? You don’t exactly have a great track record for that.”

Cole growled. She could feel it rumble through his chest and into her. “I’ll do it.”

Y/N blinked up at Dean, begging, but for what, she wasn’t sure. The calm of Death approaching had settled over her once more.

Dean shrugged, his eyes locked on Y/N’s. “Do it,” he said. “I don’t care.”

She drew in a breath and everything changed. Cole’s grip on her loosened and she ducked from his arm, ready to rush forward and out of the line of fire. He grabbed her arm and brought the butt of the gun down hard on the back of her head. She saw sparks, heard a yell, felt the rough gravel of pavement scrape her face.

When she woke, she was back in her bed in the Bunker, blanket smooth beneath her, boots still on. She’d been carried inside but not tucked in.

Sam.

Her head was pounding, mouth somehow dry and wet at the same time. She swallowed down the guck and rubbed her eyes as she climbed out of bed.

The halls were quiet, the lights bright as always. She peeked into Sam’s room, but it was empty, dared a chance at Dean’s, but he was nowhere to be found either.

What the hell?

A pained, demonic roar echoed down the hallway and Y/N pushed off of her backfoot, breaking into a run.

The dungeon door was open, the decoy shelving pushed aside.

She looked in to see Dean tied to a chair, his face covered in thick sweat, right arm bloody from needle punctures. Sam stood to the side, watching his brother writhe in pain.

“Sam?”

She stepped into the room and both men looked up.

Dean grinned through his strangled panting. “Heya, Sweetheart.”

She rushed forward and Sam stopped her, stepping in her way. He towered over her and looked down, hazel eyes filled with hurt and purpose. “Don’t.”

Dean sucked in a hard breath, lungs burning, blood boiling.

Y/N tried to circle Sam, but he barred her with his good arm.

“What are you doing to him? You’re killing him- look!”

Sam shook his head and gave her shoulder a shove. “Out. Now.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door.

Dean watched her leave, struggling with consciousness. “Good to see ya, Y/N/N!”

Outside, she ripped her arm from Sam’s giant paw and growled up at him. “What are you doing in there?”

He sucked a breath through his teeth. “Curing my brother.”

“Looks more like you’re killing him! Can’t you hear him screaming? That can’t be good.” She turned to the door and again, Sam blocked her.

He softened, lowering his voice and easing his stance. “Look, I know you’re worried but-”

“But what? You’ve got it all under control as usual?”

He dropped his head. “He has to go through this. He’ll survive.”

She looked up, tears wetting the corners of her eyes. “How do you know? How do you know this won’t actually rip his soul apart and kill him?”

He let his head fall back against the door, resting for a split second. “I don’t.”

Hours ticked by with Y/N pacing the halls, listening as Dean’s wretched voice echoed through her, tearing at her heart.

Sam wouldn’t let her inside, but she caught glimpses of Dean when Sam came out for air. He was dripping in sweat, slumped down in the chair.

“Are you sure about this?”

He brushed past, barely holding on himself. “Honestly, Y/N… I don’t know anymore. But we’re almost done. He’ll either come out of this cured or-”

She held her tongue. “Yeah.”

Sam turned left and headed towards his room.

“Sam?”

He paused before rounding the corner.

“Should you and I- I mean, we should probably-”

He held up his hand, but was kind when he turned. “I know. We need to talk. I need to apologize. I just need- I gotta finish this first. I need to save him.”

Y/N nodded. “I know, Sam. I know.”

Sam had been gone for a while, so she took a chance.

Y/N slipped into the dungeon with a bottle of water and a damp cloth, her heart in her throat, her head in a vice.

Dean was limp in the chair, his chin tucked to his chest, eyes gently closed. She toed the Devil’s Trap, watching, praying to see a breath.

“Dean?”

He stirred and she sighed. “Thank God.”

A chuckle lifted his face to hers. “God ain’t got shit to do with this, babydoll.” He smiled and then coughed, heavy, painfully. His chest heaved, his mouth fell open as he strained for air.

“Dean… fuck.”

Before she knew it, she was inside the sigil and kneeling at his feet. She pressed the cool washcloth to his forehead and he sighed gratefully as she wiped the sweat from his brow.

“That’s… that’s nice.” His voice was cracked, throat raw from screaming.

She patted his cheeks, his throat, lay the cloth across the back of his neck.

“Are you OK?”

She looked him over, certain he was near to fading. His arm was torn from the needles and she could swear The Mark looked paler, as if Sam’s cure was pulling the evil from it. Maybe it was working…

Dean smiled. “Oh, sure. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” A cough shook him badly and Y/N held his cheek, unable to help.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. It’ll be over soon. I promise.”

She cracked open the bottle of water and held it to his lips, urging him to drink.

He managed a tiny sip and then pulled back.

“I’m dying, Y/N/N.” His head lolled to the side and her heart ached.

“No.” She grabbed at his flannel and shook him gently. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re Dean Fucking Winchester. You are going to be fine. You hear me?”

Green eyes rolled back to white and Y/N set her hand on his chest, rubbing hard.

“Hey! Hey! Dean! No. Wake up!”

She slapped his cheek and he sucked in a heavy breath, gasping loudly as his eyes snapped open.

“Oh, Jesus, Dean!”

Before relief could set in, Dean’s fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist and his pained smile turned into a devilish grin. He squeezed and her pulse quickened.

“What’re you doing? How?”

She looked down to see the ropes that had held his arms frayed and broken. “Dean?”

A blink shattered his beautiful green eyes and only black remained. He laughed. “You showed up just in time…”

It was like a rush of wind inside her head and all around.

In a flash, Dean had her up off the floor, her feet dangling, throat clutched in his big hand. He slammed her against the wall and held her there, lungs screaming, eyes bulging. He traced a hand down her body and tilted his head to the side, watching the blood rise to the surface of her skin. Aroused even as her breath died away.

“See, I don’t get you.” He let her slide down the wall until her toes scraped the floor. “Sammy warns you not to come looking for me by yourself and you do. He tells you not to come in here, and not only do you ignore him again, but you bring me a bottle of water. You came in here to take care of me. And for what?” His fingers squeezed and she felt her heart strain to pump. “You think you can ease my pain? Make it all better?” He brushed a hand over her breast and grinned. “Or maybe you think I’ll fuck you again.”

He tossed his head back and laughed.

“You’re a stupid little girl.” He blinked away the black and dipped his lips to hers, kissing her sweetly. “But I do enjoy watching you suffocate… I never told you that before, but it’s beautiful. Your eyes get real wide and the color starts to drain from your mouth. This sweet, delicious mouth.”

He forced his tongue inside and Y/N’s eyes rolled back. She clawed at his arm, but the strength was gone, the will fading close behind. Her vision ebbed and her fingers slid from his arm, falling limp at her sides.

“Do me a favor, babydoll,” he whispered, licking at her lips one final time. “Wait for me right here.”

With a flick of his wrist, she was on the floor, falling like a ragdoll at his feet. Air filled her lungs but she was already too far gone to wake fully. She tried to move, but everything was a struggle, everything ached.

“I’ve gotta go take care of my baby brother.” He ran a hand through his hair and she watched in horror as he stepped out of the Devil’s Trap. “Then I’ll be back for you."

Kind blue eyes were there when she woke and soft hands were helping her to sit up.

Castiel smiled sadly and lay his palm across her forehead like a mother would.

“How are you feeling?”

Y/N blinked rapidly, clearing the haze from her eyes. She squinted up at the angel and then panicked.

“Dean!” She scrambled to her feet, leaping from her bed and grabbing his arm for balance. “Where’s Dean!”

Castiel took both of her hands in his and forced her to calm down. “He’s fine. He’s…” A smile turned his pink lips. “It worked, Y/N. Dean’s back with us.”

It felt like the walls were crumbling inside of her. Everything slid downwards and she went with it, falling against Castiel, her body exhausted, her mind a mess of relief and worry.

He sank to the floor with her and held her close.

“He’s going to be fine,” he whispered. “You are too.”

The summer rushed through her head, ups and downs, horrors and worse. She saw black eyes and blood, felt every bruise, every strike against her flesh.

She wiped her eyes and sat back. “How?”

Castiel looked down, eyes sad but clear. “Time.”

Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, fresh from a shower. His hair still damp, gray flannel a little dark around the collar from collecting the drippings. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hand.

She knocked gently and he looked up.

“Hey, Dean.”

He turned as he stood and started to go to her, but something stopped him. Flashes of what he’d done played on the empty space between them and he lingered over the bruises on her throat, the cut on her forehead. His fingers were twitching and he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the unwanted movements.

“Hey.”

She wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, but he looked nervous to have her there, scared almost.

She cleared her throat and wrung her hands. “You feeling OK?”

Eyes on the floor, he nodded. “Yeah. All good.” He looked up through his lashes, afraid to face her fully. “You?”

She sniffed back a wave of tears and swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’m- I’m good.”

The lies hung like an iron curtain between them, massive and unbreachable.

She turned to go. “Well, if you need anything, just holler.”

He was on her before she reached the door, shaking fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her back. She spun and crashed into his chest, burying her face in his shirt, clinging to him. He was warm and alive. He was safe. He was home.

She could feel him trembling, hear the shaky intake of air. He held her tight, his big hand on the back of her head, the other slung around her middle. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

“Y/N, I can’t- I- I’m so sorry-”

His heart was racing against her ear and she snuck her arms around him, locking him to her.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “We don’t have to do that yet. Just… just be here.”

A tear escaped his eye and fell, landing on her arm.

“OK.” His hug grew a little tighter. “I’m here.”

She sighed and let the tears go. “That’s all I ever needed…”

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year ago

Text

Recall - Part 3

UN(F*CKING)BELIEVABLE

A/N: Here's the part where I ask you to pretend it hasn't been MONTHS and MONTHS since the last update. I have no excuses for how long its taken me to get this part written other than it hurt. Thank you to everyone who has been on this ride with me from the beginning or from any point along the way, especially @something-tofightfor for the constant encouragement on this story. I've known how it all shakes out for a while now, and after this there are only two parts left. I hope you all like where it's headed, because it's full steam ahead from here on out!

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: language, mention of death and loss, Jack has a lot of Trauma stored in his noggin and in his heart

Summary: Merlin helps shed some light on the mysterious Project Aster. Jack awakens from the Recall program... And you find yourself even more involved in this mission than you already were.

Series Masterlist

To his credit, Champ didn’t keep you waiting long at all, and for that you were thankful.

“Talk to me, Ginger Ale. What in tarnation is goin’ on with our man Whiskey? And how bad is it? No sugarcoatin’.”

He strode into the lab, dressed the same as he would be for a boardroom meeting - stetson to bootsoles - and fully alert, despite the late hour. You glanced down at your watch as the lab door slid shut behind him, frowning as the numbers there dwindled further.

00:28:19 REMAINING

We’ve gotten nowhere. We… He’ll be awake soon and we have no real idea what’s wrong.

“We’re not entirely sure, Champ.” Ginger’s response called your attention back to the conversation at hand. “Physically, everything is fine. The Alpha-gel is doing its job. The wound is almost completely healed, his vital signs are all within normal limits, and the Recall program booted up and ran without issue.” She gestured to the various monitors that displayed proof of what she’d just said, Champ nodding along as he looked them over for himself.

“Well that’s a good start,” he mused, crossing his arms over his chest. “So where’s the hangup?” Without taking his eyes off the screens in front of him, he tilted his head in your direction. “Maraschino? Fill me in.”

He’s asking me?

Your eyes widened in surprise as he addressed you, and you quickly looked over at Ginger for reassurance. She gave you a small, encouraging nod, and mouthed the words go ahead.

“The problem isn’t with J-” You cut yourself off before you could break protocol in front of the head of the organization himself. “-with Whiskey. It’s with his file.” Champ turned his weathered visage on you then, even deeper creases forming over and between his unruly eyebrows as he frowned. “There are some inconsistencies in his chart. Things that were never updated. But it’s more than that. It’s-”

You winced, stepping up to the computer screens to pull up the hidden files that Merlin unearthed. It’s potentially much worse than that.

“What the devil is Project Aster?” Champ’s mumbled confusion confirmed what you and Ginger had already suspected - that he was just as in the dark about the surreptitious op as you were.

Ginger sighed. “We were really hoping that you could tell us, boss.” She shook her head and lifted her right hand up to resituate her glasses. “We can’t access any of the records on it. Merlin is working on that as we speak. But we do know that there has been crossover with the Recall Program and this Project Aster.” Gesturing at the screen, she indicated the flags in Jack’s decrypted file that showed where the two operations coincided in the past. “Most of these incidents date back to before you took over from the last Agent Champagne.”

“Most?” One eyebrow arched in question as he turned to face her. “You mean to tell me that this malarky-” He pointed to the screen with one hand, the other going to his hip. “- has been goin’ on under our noses? On my watch?” He clicked his tongue, a look of pure disappointment in himself crossing his face. “How?”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” Ginger responded, sympathy and urgency woven through her tone. “And we need to know if Whiskey was the only one involved or if this affects any of the others.”

You knew that was true. You had to rule out an agency-wide problem, and going through every operative’s file with Merlin’s fine-toothed comb would take time. But something in the center of your brain told you that it was too big of a coincidence - the Project and the flower Jack had tattooed on his chest sharing the same name - for it to apply to anyone else but him. He got that tattoo because it was his wife’s favorite flower. He told me that. It’s… A metallic taste filled your mouth as you glanced over at him and finished your thought. I don’t know how yet, but it’s connected. It has to be.

“When did you last hear from Merlin and the Galahads?” Champ asked. “And what’s the status of their mission?”

Their mission. Right.

In the chaos of dealing with Jack you’d almost forgotten what had preceded his arrival in the lab. A chill raced down your spine as you reminded yourself what was at stake if Eggsy and Harry weren’t able to pull it off without Jack’s help. You looked over at Agent Tequila. What little of his skin you could see through the dome of the recovery bay was struck through with spidery blue veins. They crept up the side of his throat and over the cut of his jaw, the poison in them threatening to spread through his entire bloodstream if the antidote wasn’t administered soon. You knew that there were millions of others in the same danger, and that most of them were not fortunate enough to receive the technologically advanced medical care that you and Ginger had been able to give him to slow the effects of the tainted drugs. You knew that thousands of people had likely already succumbed, and countless more would soon follow if The Golden Circle wasn’t stopped.

They will be. They have to be.

Ginger tapped on the keyboard to pull up a map showing the GPS tracker that was located on the Statesman plane they’d let the Kingsman Agents borrow. It showed that it was still in the air. “They haven’t landed yet,” she explained in answer to his second question. “And they- oh.”

Oh? Your eyes darted from the map to the woman, and then back to the screen as she pulled up a message from Merlin. Oh.

Ginger Ale - Still working on cracking these files. Each one has a different key so it’s taking some time. From what I can see so far, it looks like Project Aster had something to do with memory restoration, specifically restoring the intensity of a memory. Possibly a precursor to your Recall program? I’ll have a better idea once I crack more of these flagged events. Forwarding the two decoded files now. Let me know if anything stands out to you, otherwise I’ll touch base again when I have more. - Merlin

You frowned at the screen and read the message a second time, your grip on the chairback in front of you tightening. Restoring the intensity of a memory? The furrow between your brows deepened as you pondered the implications of a procedure like that. Sharpening the details of a memory, ensuring that nothing was forgotten and that time didn’t numb the subject’s initial thoughts and reactions certainly had its place in an agency like Statesman. But if they were running Project Aster in conjunction with Recall… Your eyes strayed from the screen to the manilla folder on the countertop, honing in on the silver paperclip that you knew was only securing a single item - a polaroid. Oh, shit. Your heart thudded to a full stop and then plummeted into your stomach as you put two and two together.

“His wife.” The words came out in a breathless whisper, a sour taste filling your mouth as you turned to face Ginger. “Ginger, does that mean… If Aster and Recall were mixed, does that mean that the memory that they were-” You winced. “- intensifying, is the memory of losing his wife?”

Ginger’s eyes went wide as she inhaled deeply through her nose. A handful of seconds ticked by without a response, and you knew that meant that she was trying and failing to come up with a way to easily dismiss your hypothesis. When nothing came to her she looked to Champ, the man’s weathered features reflecting the heaviness you felt in your own heart.

“How on Earth could that be somethin’ worth puttin’ a man through?” Champ’s question broke the silence, but it was clear in his tone that he didn’t doubt what you’d proposed. He frowned, and the glint of compassion you saw enter his eyes made your heart break even more, because you knew he cared for Jack as a friend first and foremost. “Like he’d ever forget how he felt on the worst day of his goddamn life.”

You swallowed down the tears that were threatening to spill as you shook your head. “I don’t know, Champ, I can’t…” Can’t imagine how that constitutes anything but fucking torture. Squeezing your eyes shut, you gave up on answering his question because you weren’t sure it had one. Instead, something else occurred to you as you returned your focus to the screens once more. “Ginger, can you pull up those dates again? The ones that were flagged for both programs?”

“Sure,” she replied, already moving to find the information you asked for. “They’re right here.”

You quickly found the entry for the incident that Ginger had pulled up - the one that left Jack with a gunshot through his chest. Your blood ran cold as you cross referenced it with Merlin’s file and found it to be one of the double flagged events. “Shit. Look. Right before he got the tattoo. It… he…” You sighed heavily. “It makes sense that if that memory was being enhanced while he was going through the Recall system that he’d suddenly be inspired to get a tattoo honoring his wife directly after. And if there’s a chance that those two programs being run simultaneously causes lapses in short term memory or even reordering of current memories…” You trailed off as Ginger nodded.

“Then he wouldn’t have thought to report the tattoo because he thought it was always there. You’re right, Maraschino. I think…” She nodded again, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose and requiring a small shove back into place. “I think that’s the only explanation, actually.”

“But why?” Champ asked again, crossing his arms and bringing his left hand up to smooth out his mustache. “Why sharpen that memory?” He clicked his tongue. “And if I wasn’t the one authorizin’ it, and neither of you were the ones implementing it, who the hell was?”

Static started buzzing through the portion of your brain where logic normally resided, but luckily Ginger had an answer to the first half of Champ’s questioning. “Well, since Whiskey’s trigger image is a photo of her..? Maybe ensuring that that memory in particular stays… intact, was somehow crucial to ensuring that the Recall program would work every time?”

It was something, though you weren’t sure it answered the second part of Champ’s question - about who was actually running Project Aster. And perhaps more importantly, how.

“Maybe,” Champ muttered. “You should get in touch with Merlin. Let him know what Maraschino just puzzled together. See if you can get him to focus on only crackin’ the files that coincide for now. Maybe there’s more clues that we’re missin’.”

Ginger immediately did as he asked, filling her Kingsman counterpart in on what the three of you had just discussed. As she finished, so did the countdown on your watch, three long beeps coming from the device on your wrist. Whipping around towards the recovery bays, you took a breath and held it as you watched the visor lift…

…And the man beneath it start to sit up.

– – –

A fizzy sort of disorientation greeted Jack as his eyes opened, the feeling akin to waking from a nap he hadn’t meant to take and not quite knowing how long he’d been asleep. It wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it was nice. A few seconds with no pressure, no expectations, just the hum of consciousness taking back over. A reprieve of sorts, short-lived as it was.

By the time his boots hit the floor it was already over, the pleasant fizz in his brain consolidating into a clunky mass of confusion.

Where the hell am I?

He blinked, clearing the slight blur around the edges of his vision as the hum sharpened into sounds and then words. There were people - three of them - talking, and it took him a few seconds to realize that they were talking to him.

But who… And how did I get here? Last I remember I was…

Before he had a chance to blink again, a woman with dark eyes behind winged glasses stepped up next to an older man with sandy gray hair. Despite the somewhat regretful expression she wore, she was gorgeous, and Jack was just about to tell her so when she beat him to the punch once more, extending her hand and what she was holding, out to him. “I really hate to do this to you, Jack, but I need you to look at this.”

Alright?

He lifted his hand to take what she was passing him. As soon as his fingertips made contact with the glossy finish of the photo paper though, he felt something at his core telling him to pull back - like the slamming of brakes at 65 MPH or the tug of a chain attached to a heavy anchor. It was strange, a bit unsettling, but he was willing to chalk it up to the confusion still taking up most of his brain space, so he ignored the alarm and looked at what he was holding.

A young woman - a beautiful young woman - smiled up at him from the photo, her ruby lips catching his eye right away. “Well now, who is this pretty lady?”

The other man in the room clicked his tongue, Jack looking up at the sound. “You really don’t remember her, Whiskey?”

Whiskey? What? He gave a small shake of his head. Do I know her? He felt that slam again, that thing inside trying to pull him back, but he looked back down at the picture. She does look… familiar. “Remember… what about her, exactly?”

The third person in the room was standing just out of Jack’s line of sight and slightly behind the man, but Jack heard a gasp come from their direction at his question.

The woman who handed him the photo let out a deep sigh then. “I’m so sorry, Jack.” She frowned. “She’s dead.”

She’s dead.

Those two words fell through him with the crushing weight of a lead anvil. He dropped his eyes back to the photo, and as he did he felt his memory spin like the cylinder of a pistol, flashes of moments flying by with each empty cylinder.

Click. A quarter dropped into the coin slot of a jukebox. The press of a button to select a song. His hand extended out to her and her smile as she let him lead her in a dance.

She’s…

Another click. Her simple white dress, his borrowed suit. The last rays of sunlight and the exchange of rings. Elation as the words “I do,” were spoken, and a kiss that mirrored their intent.

My wife, she’s…

The final click that found the loaded chamber. One hand on her hip, the other on the slight bump of her belly. “Just running to the store for milk, Honey, I’ll be right back.” “Alright, Sweetheart, be safe.”

He blinked at the photo again, the motion of his eyelids like the pull of a trigger in his brain.

She’s gone.

Suddenly it all fell painfully into place. Who he was, what he lost, his training with Statesman, the mission he’d been on when - he lifted his fingertips to the side of his head, finding a gauzy bandage applied near his temple - when he’d been shot. Bringing the photo up to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the glossy image of his wife, his highschool sweetheart, the love of his life, the mother of his child, the woman who was ripped from his life when she got tangled in the web of a drug related shooting.

When Jack lifted his eyes to the woman who had handed him the photo, he could feel that they had darkened. “Ginger.” He handed his trigger image back to her so she could slip it into the file for the next time it was needed, and then shifted his focus to the man standing beside her. “Champ.”

The older man sighed, relief rolling off of him in waves as he did. “Welcome back, Agent Whiskey. Had us worryin’ there for a spell.” He clapped a weathered palm to Jack’s shoulder.

The contact was meant to be comforting, compassionate. But with it came another sharp pulse of memory - anger and rage, deep seeded and violent. The image of a vial in his hand, and then the business end of a pistol meeting his gaze, the man behind it wearing an eyepatch. A loud bang and then nothing.

I was close. To completing the objective. I was close, and then -

He hissed under his breath, subtly shrugging Champ’s hand off of him. “Goddamn butterfly guy shot me.”

“What?” Ginger Ale’s bewildered tone matched the questioning expression on her face. She gave a small, jerky shake of her head. “Why would he-”

Jack felt another pulse of anger flash through him, and it forced him to cut the woman off. “Well I’m guessin’ it’s because you didn’t fix’im right.” The woman recoiled slightly, Jack narrowing his eyes.

This is… strange.

The emotions he was experiencing didn’t feel like his own. He respected Ginger. And Champ. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever spoken to either of them with the same amount of vitriol that he tasted on his tongue with every word he let loose now.

Somethin’ ain’t right.

He knew it at his core. He’d done this same dance several times before, but never had he woken up so agitated, so hell bent on shoving blame onto anyone but himself. But he also knew that the mission he was on had to be seen through, and he knew that he needed to be there to ensure that it was. Swallowing the thickness in his throat, he took a second to calm himself down, eyes moving from Ginger’s frown to the screen displaying the GPS location of the plane carrying Eggsy, Harry and Merlin to Poppy’s hideaway.

But in transition, they landed somewhere else first.

They landed on the pair of eyes belonging to the third person in the room, and when they did he felt something else. Something warm and soft, like the sound of the music coming from that jukebox. Like the gentle glow right before sunset. Like the promise of home and someone to share it with.

He knew his wife was gone. In the depths of his soul, he knew. But in that moment, when his eyes locked with that third pair - with yours - he felt a connection that he couldn’t explain.

“Sweetheart?”

– – –

His voice cracked on the word, and you watched the daggers he’d been shooting from his eyes clatter to the ground as he shifted his focus to you.

What? You sucked in a breath and held it as your heart slammed against your sternum. He’s never called me that. He only… That particular term of endearment belonged to someone else. Someone who you knew you could never replace, nor would you ever try to. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue before speaking. “It’s me… It’s Maraschino, Agent.”

At the mention of your codename he blinked, dropping his eyes from your face, down to where your necklace lay atop your shirt. The tips of your fingers came involuntarily up to touch one of the pearls strung along the chain. When his gaze lifted it had changed again. Still softer than what he’d treated Ginger and Champ to. But not as wistful as it was when he first looked your way. Oh, Jack. A deep ridge cut through the center of his forehead as his eyebrows came together, and then he took a step towards you, clearing his throat before speaking again, a hint of apology in his tone as he said your name. “Darlin’ I-“

You shook your head, cutting him off before he could finish. “It’s alright, Agent.” You could have sworn you saw him wince as you dropped your hand from your necklace back to your side. What’s that about? Giving him what you hoped was a small but encouraging smile, you tried not to let your mind leap to worst case scenarios, ones in which the reset hadn’t fully taken, leaving him caught in confusion. No, that was just a blip. Happens sometimes. He just needs a few more minutes to settle. “Just glad to have you back.”

Because losing you would be awful, Jack Daniels. I… I can’t lose you.

“Back.” Jack repeated the word, eyes finally finding clarity and moving to their intended target - the screen displaying the map. Moving towards it, he pointed at the Kingsman Agents’ destination. “I need to get back to the mission. If Galahad Senior’s brain is still scrambled, Eggsy could be in danger and the whole damn mission could be at risk.”

Though it didn’t necessarily surprise you that he was so eager to get back in the field, the idea of him barreling back into the fray without any answers about Project Aster was not one that you were comfortable with. At all. Wait. Your heart sped up as you turned in Ginger’s direction. We can’t let him go back without even telling him what Merlin found in his file, right? You caught her eye and pleaded silently with her. He needs to know. He could still be at risk if something’s not right, and-

“Hold your horses just one minute there, Agent.” Both you and Ginger turned at the sound of Champ’s voice, his hesitancy to agree with Jack giving you hope. “There’s somethin’ you need to know first before we decide if we can send you back out. Might be better to get Mezcal on it, he’s still in Tokyo so -”

That was not what Jack was expecting to hear, which was made extremely clear by the incredulous look he shot Champ’s way. “No, what you need to know is that that one-eyed wonder Harry is liable to snap again and shoot this whole operation to shit. Briefing Mezcal and arrangin’ travel will take too long.” He took a step closer to the Agency’s leader. “I’m already familiar with the mission. I can get myself there in the Pony.” He gave a small shake of his head. “You know I’m right, Champ.”

You glanced sidelong at Ginger, the woman doing the same, both of you seemingly holding your breath to see what Champ’s response would be.

He clicked his tongue and muttered a swear under his breath and you felt your heart sink. He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna send him back out even though - “Well, you’re not wrong, Jack. But!” He held up a finger and cocked his head to the side. “Galahad the Elder might not be the only one scrambled up here. Tell me, Agent, you ever heard of Project Aster?”

–

Project Aster?

Jack instantly recoiled at Champ’s question, one hand coming up to his chest where beneath the jumpsuit he still wore, a bundle of three flowers sharing a name with the operation was tattooed on his skin.

They were his wife’s favorite flower, symbolic of love and devotion. He gave her a bouquet of them on their first date and on the day he asked her to marry him. She had them in her hair at the wedding. She grew them in the garden of their home. Asters had been a part of Jack’s life far longer than Statesman had. And as far as he knew, he’d never been involved with a project of that name.

“What the fuck is Project Aster?”

Over the next few minutes, Ginger Ale showed him hidden entries in his file that corresponded to the mystery project. She explained that whatever it was, it seemed to be linked to sharpening or enhancing specific memories - and that it was being used in conjunction with the Recall Program. Something like a dark shadow lurked in the back of his mind, telling him that whatever concerns Ginger had brought up were valid. But even as she laid it all out to him, including how much was still unknown about why and how Aster was being implemented without Champ’s authorization, and what it could possibly mean for his own health and safety if there were any dangerous side effects, Jack had simply no prior knowledge of taking part in it.

“I don’t know what to tell you about this, Ginger,” he said with a shrug of both shoulders. He glanced your way, the empathy in your eyes damn near breaking his heart. Oh, Darlin’, don’t be sad for me. He swallowed his knotted emotions and returned his focus to Ginger and Champ. “But I do know that if I don’t get back on this mission, millions more people will die because they got caught in the crosshairs of some psycho, just like my Sweetheart did.” He looked directly at Champ then, pleading to the one person in the room he’d known the longest. “And that I cannot abide while there’s still something to be done about it.”

Champ held his gaze for a handful of seconds before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Fine.” He raised one shaggy eyebrow. “But you might not like the one condition I’m allowing it under.”

– – –

Champ had been right - Jack did not like the condition.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Champagne!” He roared, eyes darkening and nostrils flared wide. He looked right at you then, and you saw something flicker just beneath the surface before he whipped his attention back to Champ. “For one, I do not need a fuckin’ chaperone. And even more importantly, Maraschino should not have to risk her life in the field when she’s not trained and-”

“And it’s the only way you’re going, Whiskey.” You’d never heard the tone that entered Champ’s voice as he shut down Jack’s protest before then, and it was enough to make you suck in a breath and straighten your spine. Oh, shit. “Now you just told me that we don’t have much time to lose here. Do you really want to lose more of it arguin’ with me on this? Because you will not win.”

The condition, though it was sprung on you and Ginger in the same moment that it was presented to Jack, was that he would be allowed to resume his part in the mission to stop the Golden Circle - so long as you accompanied him to observe him for any side-effects or signs that Project Aster was interfering with his cognitive function. Which, as someone who never considered taking a job in the field, came as a shock to you.

But not as big a shock as it was to him. It was clear that Jack wanted you nowhere near the mission, and you couldn’t really blame him. I’d be a liability. He’d have to watch both of your backs and that would mean taking attention away from what he was there to do. But… You hated to admit that it was the only way. He needs someone there with him to make sure he’s still on target and it… It has to be me.

Ginger needed to stay to monitor Tequila’s recovery and to continue to correspond with Merlin. Champ had the entirety of Statesman to run, several other ongoing missions to oversee. But you were the one who not only knew the most about the Recall Program among the rest of the lab assistants thanks to your research, but you also knew the most about Jack. You knew him as an Agent and as a man, and you would know best if he were acting off in any way.

“It’s okay, Jack.” You knew that you should have used his codename. Protocol and all of that. But you also knew that you could reach him more deeply if you shirked protocol and showed him that you were in if it could give him a better chance at safely finishing this.

You watched the fight drain from him as you agreed to Champ’s terms. His eyes went soft and his full lips formed a slight pout as he looked at you, taking a breath that filled his lungs before slowly letting it out. He took two steps closer to you, gaze flicking down to your chain once more before coming back up to meet yours. “You sure about this, Darlin’?”

Wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue, you nodded. “I’m sure.” Trying for a moment of lightness, you gave him a tiny smile. “Besides, you always said you wanted to take me for a spin in the Silver Pony.”

It didn’t make him laugh or even crack a grin. Instead, to your dismay, the look on his face only grew more grim. But he nodded once and turned to Champ. “Alright.”

It was the last word he spoke until you were in the air, Ginger showing you how to strap into your seat and going over the controls in your headset before takeoff. Jack continued to keep his lips sealed for the first half of the flight. When he finally broke the silence, it was with your name, static crackling in your headset before his voice was in your ear. You froze at the emotion you heard there, recognizing it instantly despite the fact that it was the first time he’d displayed it to you. Fear. He’s… You swallowed down a thick knot. He’s scared. “Darlin’? You read me?”

Shit. Clearing your throat, you pressed the button that allowed you to respond. “I read you, Jack.” You waited a beat, heart slamming at your ribcage as you stared at the back of his seat in front of you. “Everything alright?” Well that’s a dumb question that I already know the answer to.

He let out a small humorless laugh that sounded far too flat to have come from the man you knew. “Oh, just peachy.” You winced, closing your eyes and focusing on his voice. “Listen, I know Champ and Ginger want you to stick with me on this one. But I…” He swore under his breath. “I need you to stay with the Pony when we land. Can you promise me that?”

What? Your eyes flew open, brow creased with confusion. “That’s not…” You shook your head even though you knew he couldn’t see you. “Jack, that would be a violation of a direct order. Think about what you’re asking me to do. I can’t-”

“No, I can’t,” he spoke over you, that uncharacteristic fear still present in his tone and sending a chill through you. “Can’t lose you, too, Darlin’. Can’t have you become another picture in my file of someone I lo-”

Your mouth dropped open and you inhaled sharply as he cut himself off mid-word. Someone he… The rushing sound that filled your ears then had nothing to do with the fact that you were traveling at Mach speed, and everything to do with what you were damn near certain he had just stopped himself from saying. Was he going to say someone he loves? You blinked, fingers digging into your thigh as you waited for him to continue.

“Someone I lost.”

You let go of your held breath in a single burst as you thought about the way he looked at you back in the lab, when he first woke up and called you Sweetheart - like he’d been reunited with someone he’d been missing, someone he’d been looking for but who he never hoped to find. Like he thought I was… A deep ache twisted through your chest and you had to work to fight off a sob. Like he thought I was his wife.

Whatever shit Aster had dragged up in his memory, whatever edge that time had worn down that the experimental project had sharpened was clearly playing painful games with his heart. And yours was getting cut up in the process. “You won’t lose me, Jack.” And I won’t lose you.

“Just promise me,” he said again, adding your name. “Promise me, please. I’ll leave my wrist comm open and connected the whole time. Anything squirrely starts happenin’, you come runnin’. But… long as everything’s alright, can you please tell me you’ll stay back?”

It went against your better judgment. It went against your loyalty to Statesman and the agreement that you made with Champ and Ginger. But the crack in his voice, that look in his eye back in the lab… you knew that if he was too worried about your safety it would put his own at risk. So you made the promise he asked you to. You stayed with the plane when it landed, Jack pressing a too-quick kiss to your lips before he went dashing off into certain danger.

“I’ll come back to you, Darlin’,” he’d said. “I swear it.”

But you heard and felt what he was really saying with that kiss, with those words. I love you, too, Jack. “You better, Cowboy.”

And then he was gone.

Ten minutes ticked by, going on eleven when your watch beeped and you twisted your wrist to read it, three messages from HQ coming in rapid succession.

IMMEDIATE CONTACT REQUIRED RE: PROJECT ASTER

NOT WHAT WE THOUGHT. PROJECT ASTER WAS NOT INTENDED TO SHARPEN MEMORIES. ITS INTENT WAS TO CREATE THEM.

As chilling as both of those were to read, it was the final one that drove an icy spike through your heart.

WHISKEY NEVER HAD A WIFE.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

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rems-writing · 8 months ago

Text

Cyberpunk's bartender

》 Pairing: bartender!Wooyoung x gn!erader

》 Genre: Fluff

》 Wordcount: 1,800 words

》 Rating: nc-17

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

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

“I NEED THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES FOR BOOTH 1024!”

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

“THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES!”

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

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

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

“Do you say that to all your customers?”

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

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

“So the usual then?”

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

“Woo. Did you put two shots in this?”

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

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

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

“Woo, no -”

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

“It’s fine, doll. I mean it.”

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

And you hoped they’d keep it.

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

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

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

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

“WHAT ALCOHOL DO THEY WANT?!”

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

“SOJU!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To our aspirations of becoming Kirby!”

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

“You want a refill?”

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

“Perfect!”

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

“I have work tomorrow -”

“What time do your clients come in?”

“Uh… around noon or 2 PM.”

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

“Wooyoung, I don’t know -”

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

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

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

“Woo…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… I’m willing to give us a try.”

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

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

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acocktailmoment · 3 months ago

Text

Fancy Free !

2.25 oz. bourbon or Canadian Whiskey

0.5 oz. maraschino liqueur

2 dashes Angostura Bitters

2 dashes orange bitters

Build in an Old Fashioned glass over the biggest piece of ice you have. Stir 10 to 15 seconds and garnish with an orange peel.

This article was not sponsored or supported by a third-party. A Cocktail Moment is not affiliated with any individuals or companies depicted here.

#art #design #cocktails #drinks #cocktail #cocktail recipes #recipes #drink recipes #drink #free #fancy #bourbon #maraschino #liqueur #angostura bitters #orange #bitters

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bratbby333 · 1 year ago

Text

the jjk men + their drink of choice

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

blurb/brain dump

sfw; mentions of alcohol, obvi

feat: suguru, yuuji, megumi, satoru, nanami, sukuna, toji, ++ choso

author notes: i've been bartending for three years now and i can safely say ive gotten pretty good at reading people and guessing their go-to drinks,,so here's the jjk men!

-suguru: a whiskey coke. probably jack or maker's mark. simple, straightforward, and gets the job done. suguru is too laid back to be picky and is definitely the most patient person sitting at the bar. his intuitive and observant nature has him scanning the other patrons at the bar; he's a people watcher for entertainment, paying no mind to the tv's. he speaks to the bartender with a smile on his face, joking around with them, making small talk and sarcastic remarks. he's just so sassy and violently intelligent; his soft, healing energy rubbing off on everyone around him. he's a breath of fresh air in a busy bar environment. he tips well, too.

-yuuji: a piña colada (rum, coconut cream, pineapple juice; blended and served in a hurricane glass, garnished with a slice of pineapple and a maraschino cherry). freshly 21 years old, this would be his first legal drink. "look, you even get snacks with it!!" he'd say, referring to the garnishes, his age definitely showing with this drink. he attempts to chug it, getting a brain freeze in the process.

-megumi: an espresso martini. classy, bold, and strong; this drink is definitely for someone who wants to appear more mature and sophisticated than they actually are. megumi is mature, but he's overcompensating for the fact that his best friend just ordered the fruitiest drink possible. the caffeine mixing with the liquor makes meg more talkative than usual, and his reserved nature and unreadable face is left at the door and replaced with soft smiles and the occasional chuckle at his goofy friends. he'd also definitely makes fun of yuuji for ordering that piña colada.

-satoru: a tequila sunrise (tequila, orange juice, grenadine, layered to make a gradient). extra af, sweet, and fruity. orders it with a triple shot cause he's grown. "it's just so pretty, isn't it?" he'd giggle, kicking his feet under the bar like he isn't a fully grown man or the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world. oh, satoru. filled with such child-like wonder. with enough drinks in his system (although, he'd definitely do this without the liquor), he would work his way around the bar trying to make conversation with anyone and everyone, not caring if they didn't participate- no biggie, he'd just talk at them.

-nanami: a manhattan or an old fashioned, but only with top-shelf bourbon. it'd be a waste to have the bartender craft this perfect cocktail and use shitty liquor. he sips it slow, savoring the caramel notes of the bourbon. the perfect drink for a stoic and reserved man. nanami definitely has a sophisticated palate and never settles for low quality liquor. he goes to more upscale bars, enjoying the smooth jazz that pours through the speakers, occasionally snacking on small h'ordeurves, but more often than not working his way through a pile of paperwork.

-sukuna: liquid cocaine shots (equal parts goldschlager, jager, and rumple minze). absolutely unhinged and vile, but if you like them, you love them. and sukuna loooves them. he takes the shots like they're water and still manages to out drink everyone else; he'll even offer to buy shots for everyone at the bar, the other patrons cheering and thanking him, expecting it to be shots of vodka or tequila. with a maniacal smile plastered across his face, he watches as everyone's faces contort in disgust when they realize it's a liquid cocaine shot. sukuna just grins as they struggle to get them down. such a sadist. an absolute menace.

-toji: an adios motherfucker (equal parts tequila, vodka, gin, rum, and blue curaçao, with sour mix and sprite). "but that's such a lame drink!" his friends say, but toji would roll his eyes and state that it's a funny drink name and that it gets him drunker quicker; promptly chugging it and ordering another. the glass looks so small in his giant hands, other bar patrons casting judgmental gazes in his direction at the scene in front of them; giant, scary-looking man and his fruity little drink, but he couldn't care less. it's not like they have the balls to say anything to his face, any way.

-choso: a little overwhelmed by bar culture but happy to be invited anyway, he'd sneak a straw into his brother's piña colada, even though yuuji would be more than happy to share. choso would eventually branch out on his own after feeling a bit more confident (and after googling the most popular drinks around the world) settling on a mojito, not realizing it was one of the more laborious drinks a bartender could make. he'd feel bad when he realized it and wouldn't order one again, apologizing profusely to the bartender.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

author notes: this took me way longer to write than it should have solely because i couldn't stop laughing over some of the scenarios. also,,i just want to thank each and every one of y'all for liking, commenting, and reblogging my stories...it means so so so much to me and i wish i could give all y'all a big ole smooch on the forehead (consensually). my inbox is open n ready for ur suggestions...please feel free to drop a request♡

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #nanami kento #ryomen sukuna #fushiguro toji #choso kamo #bratbby333

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pascalpvnk · 2 years ago

Text

Pour Choices // You & I

pairing: bartender!joel x f!afab!reader

summary: Austin, Texas was never a dream destination for you, however your work trip there might’ve changed your perspective of the Lone Star State, and it absolutely was not work related.

word count: 6.6k words (oops…)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut (dubcon [both drank alcohol], handjob if you squint, oral [f receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it up!], Joel has had a vasectomy, premature ejaculation, double creampie, alluding to aftercare), possibly ooc, no outbreak AU, Joel is 36 with no specified age for reader, reader described as a woman, use of she/her pronouns, minor body descriptions (reader described as having curves, reader has hair long enough to grasp/pin up, reader is shorter than Joel, he picks up reader for like half a second), time jumping (indicated by solid orange divider), religious euphemisms (?) from Joel (i know that man has religious trauma), alcohol consumption, food consumption

a/n: hello! I know this is a long time coming but she’s finally here. thank you for being patient with me during this writing process and thank you to those who helped and encouraged me! a special thanks to @delicaatefl0vver for beta reading and supporting and adding to my thots. welcome to the rebirth of my fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy xx (dividers by @/saradika)

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Sat in the corner of the rustling bar, you were sipping on your Manhattan. The drink tasted medicinal, not how you’d usually prefer it. You had watched the young bartender pour heavy on the vermouth, but chose not to say anything. Red lipstick stained the rim of your glass with each sip of the cocktail. The whiskey mixed in and the maraschino cherry garnish were its only saving graces.

A low hanging light illuminated a warm hue across your features. You were surrounded by classic Texan bar decor and architecture; high ceiling rafters, support beams strung with fairy lights, the walls packed with framed posters of all varieties, the occasional beer branded neon sign, and license plates tacked up behind the bar. Two televisions sat flush against opposing walls, both playing a pregame show of Rangers highlights as they counted down to first pitch. The air was thick as the feet of the patrons shuffled around and chair legs scraped against the wood finished floors. Groups of friends, couples, and everyone between flooded through the doors, ushering themselves to an empty table or stool at the bar. Being there on a Friday night right as the outside rush hour died down was a bold choice, but you had one goal in mind.

The moment the music changed from country to rock and roll, you knew it was time to set yourself out to accomplish it.

The click of your high heels contrasted from the stomp of sneakers and cowboy boots. Glass in hand and head held high, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you felt it in your throat. You sure as hell weren’t living up to your stoic, stone cold hearted reputation back home. It’s almost as though your heart thawed in the Texas heat. Though your heart changed with the state, your attire didn’t. You stuck out like a sore thumb among the other consumers in your black maxi dress and perfectly pinned up hair. Some eyes gazed towards you, but you were set on finding one pair in particular. The set of eyes that were darker than the coffee he brewed, but the same ones that looked like honey when the sun was setting. The eyes that were facing away from you at the bar as you found a stool. The ones that snapped up towards you with one word.

“Texas.”

You called for him like a melody. Your throat immediately felt dry as a lump formed. He either felt the same way you did or it was a one off fling. You were hoping it was the former. But…it had been two years since you met, so there was a decent chance he was the one that got away.

The way his muscles tensed under his tight Henley gave away that he recognized you simply from your voice. Those beautiful eyes met yours, and his jaw went a little slack, the corners of his mouth curved.

“Evenin’, Miss New York,” Joel drawled, leaning against the counter. “How are ya, darlin’?”

Joel’s mind was preoccupied before he had seen you the first time, filled with important nonsense that about drove him up the wall.

Gotta make the next schedule. What time is that birthday party Sarah wants t’go to? Wonder if Tommy would be willin’ to take her. No, he’s workin’ on a job site out of town. I need to find someone to cover part of my shift so I can take her. Gotta pay the rent for this month. Can’t keep running the bar if s’gonna be slow like this and that bastard won’t cough up his half of it. God dammit.

“Welcome in, what can I get for ya?” The southern man drawled absentmindedly, tossing a rag over his broad shoulder. The moment his eyes caught yours, his worries washed away. He was only interested in you and your big, beautiful eyes and bright, red lips.

“Whiskey on the rocks. Make it a double please,” you practically sang to him…or at least it sounded like music to his ears. Your ID slipped out of your billfold with ease, and you slid it across the bar as you took a seat. Joel examined the horizontally wide piece of plastic, deciding it was real, especially for a lady ordering a whiskey. A lady from New York, no less.

Joel took in your features for a moment, noticing the difference in your attire and even your accent compared to the other bar patrons. Your beauty was striking to him, making all of the women he’s seen come in flee his memory. He repeated your name over and over in his head, wanting to know how it felt on his tongue. To say he was intrigued would be the understatement of the year.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He poured a generous portion of whiskey into a cut crystal glass and added several cubes of ice, then slid it over to you with a smile. He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bar, eyes lingering on your curves. "So, what brings you in here tonight? The Big Apple too small for ya?"

“Work,” you responded simply, taking a sip from your drink. He watched as your eyes raked down his frame. There was no visible emotion behind them, so he was unsure if you were checking him out or simply giving him a once over.

Joel’s eyes on the other hand drank in your features, not even attempting to hide his gaze. It lingered across your chest and the way your dress contoured your breasts so perfectly. He was damn near drooling at the sight of you taking down your whiskey better than he would. Your face remained expressionless, zero signs of your mouth twisting in distaste. The simple action had him hooked.

He cleared his throat and began polishing some glasses as he continued to have small talk with you.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, lining the cups along the bar as he shined them one by one.

“Flight just landed. I checked into my hotel and dropped off my stuff. Wanted to take a walk around to see what this city has to offer and I landed here,” you shrugged, taking another drink of your whiskey. “Nice place, are you the owner?”

“Co-owner, yeah,” Joel chuckled. “So I take it, your work stuff starts tomorrow? Or are you drinking on the job?”

“The former,” you smiled softly. “I’m not trying to get fired, they barely trusted me to come out here in the first place.”

His head nodded gingerly. He couldn’t quite tell if you were shooting him down or just quiet after a long day. He wanted to know more. Wanted as much information that he could get from you without coming off as a creep. Deciding to take a minor risk, he continued conversing with you.

“What kind of work are ya doing all the way out here, hm?” He asked politely, restocking the freshly polished glasses back on their designated shelves.

“My uh…my peer, I suppose, is on maternity leave and she represents most of our buildings in Texas. I’ve been doing most of the work over the phone but one of the Austin buildings required a visit. A lot of incident reports to go through.”

The whiskey in your glass was almost gone and he could tell it was opening you up a little bit. First time in the whole conversation you said more than what his question asked for.

“Darlin’, that’s some big wig stuff, and yet you make it sound so inconspicuous,” he drawled, a low rumble of laughter rolling from his chest. “What field are you in? Or is it top secret?”

“Oh! I work in HR,” you let out a small laugh. “Probably should’ve started with that.”

He smirked at how you fumbled over yourself, admiring the way your smile folded the skin around your eyes and exposed a dimple. He could definitely tell he was breaking down your stone wall. His eyes took you in once more. Your lip prints stained red on the once clean glass, immediately grabbing his attention. Arousal shot through his body, directing into his pants. That’s not something he knew he was attracted to.

“Need another, ma’am?” He asked politely and swallowed hard, attempting to look anywhere but your chest. You accepted his offer and opened a tab. Joel was thanking his lucky stars that the universe brought such a beautiful woman into his bar that night. Thanking fate for having him cover this shift.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, miss. Just holler if you need another drink or y’wanna close out. My name’s Joel,” he smiled with his boyish charm, flipping his towel back over his shoulder before reluctantly diverting his attention to another customer in need.

You stuck around for a bit, snacking on peanuts and watching the baseball game running on the television. Joel felt your eyes burn into the back of his head as he worked.

It was innocent to start. He popped tops off of beers, poured shots, and shook cocktails all while his cheeks burned pink under the heat of your gaze. Then he intentionally reached up to the top shelf more often, flexing his muscles and letting his shirt ride up his back to grab your attention again and again. It became increasingly difficult for you to peel your eyes off of him the more you drank.

And he noticed.

A couple hours passed, and before you knew it, the clock was nearing midnight. Joel walked around the bar, going to each empty table and wiping them thoroughly. He restocked everything as most of the small crowd filed out. He took a look at you from the front door, admiring the curves that were hardly hidden under your snug dress as you watched the TV mindlessly.

“Well darlin’,” he began as he approached the bar again. “I don’t know what time you have to work in the morning but it’s getting late. Wanna close out your tab?”

“I s’pose so,” you chuckled, copying his accent a little by accident. Your tired, drunken smile made his heart flutter.

A small smile plastered itself across Joel’s face as he ran your card. He let it process, grabbing both receipts and scribbling something on them.

“Can I call you a cab, sweetheart? They aren’t driving around all the time like they do back home for you,” he offered, handing you the merchant copy receipt. He crossed out all of the options to tip, just requiring your signature. You tried to protest, but he silenced your argument.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Joel examined you cleaning up your peanut shell debris as he called for the cab. You signed the receipt, and slid his copy back across the bar. He noticed your subtle smile as you noticed ten digits written neatly on the customer copy.

The line went dead when the conversation concluded, and Joel put the phone back on its charger. He noticed how you folded the receipt paper and tucked it safely into your clutch along with your debit card.

“Cab should be here in ‘bout ten minutes. Um,” he cleared his throat. “If ya need someone to recommend restaurants or if you want a tour of any sort, I hope that’ll come in handy.”

Joel gestured towards your clutch, the current home of his phone number. He wanted to ask you out, so so badly, but you were intoxicated and he didn’t want to give a bad impression. If it was meant to be, you’d take the initiative, at least that’s what he told himself.

“I bet it will,” you openly flirted. Joel knew better than to return the sentiment, but it was so damn difficult. His mama would’ve smacked him upside the head if he had, and that was enough to stop him. All he offered was a smirk before turning away and gathering dishes to be brought back to the pile of other used utensils.

“D’ya need a water or anything?” Joel asked, already reaching for a clean cup. You nodded and he filled the glass first with ice, followed with water and a straw. Laying a napkin on the counter, Joel gently set your water down with a close lipped smile.

“Thanks for stopping in, darlin’,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the rock music he had playing. “Get back to that hotel of yours safely, alright? Don’t wanna hear about Miss New York on the news. They never show anything positive nowadays.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you chuckled, gathering your things to leave after drinking most of the glass. He took these moments to really take you in, dramatically telling himself that this could be the last time he’d ever see you. Last time he’d witness your cherry stained, stunning, yet intoxicated smile, your soft skin, and those gorgeous eyes.

His admiration was interrupted by the honk erupting from the impatient taxi driver’s vehicle outside. You turned on your heel, offering a ‘goodnight, Texas!’ before walking out the door. Joel scrubbed a hand across his beard, huffing a self deprecating laugh and a muttered ‘shit’ before continuing to close up shop. He beat himself up internally while cleaning the dishes until his phone buzzed. He dug the device from his pocket, flipping it open to see a text from an unknown number.

“Didn’t end up on the news. What a bummer! Maybe next time ;)”

Joel smiled to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He finished his closing tasks and made a little to-go Shirley Temple mocktail for his daughter. Before exiting the building for the night, he turned off the glowing ‘Pour Choices’ sign and locked the door behind him. His smile faded as he left his bar behind, remembering his life’s reality and his responsibilities. Those stressors sat heavy once more upon his shoulders until he fell into a deep slumber that night.

Your first full day of work was exhausting to say the least, and the small hangover you suffered did not help one bit. And whoever decided you should come to Austin in August had become your own mortal enemy. You’re used to your mild summers back home, not sweating so much that your clothes stick to you uncomfortably. But the thing that bothered you the most was the imminent, distracting thought of Joel, especially as the sun retired behind the horizon. The way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut around his thick biceps and how they flexed every time he mixed up drinks. You had watched him use his charm to get tips practically thrown at him by the other patrons, he really put that handsome grin to work.

You were alone in your hotel. There wasn’t a scheduled dinner with your team, so you sat in bed watching Scrubs reruns and eating what constituted your dinner: cheese, crackers and pepperoni slices you picked up from the grocery store. A little disassembled charcuterie board if you will.

Beckoning your attention, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. The caller ID had your heart pounding against your chest. Joel. It was almost like he could read your mind.

“Hello?” You started, wiping the crumbs off of your fingers and lowering the volume on the show.

“Evenin’,” he drawled out your name. His voice came across gruffer and frankly hotter over the phone than in person. The way it fed directly into your ears had a chill running down your spine.

“Night off?” You asked nonchalantly, a sad attempt of remaining mysterious, knowing if he was sat next to you, you’d melt into a puddle.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing for a moment and chuckling quietly. “Sorry for callin’ late. I’d text but that would’a taken me a decade. How was today? Hope that whiskey didn’t ruin your morning.”

The smile you sported grew in size. It felt nice having a normal conversation that wasn’t work related…even if it was with someone you just met.

“It was good! Busy but good. I had a headache but nothing I couldn’t handle. It’s stupid hot here though, didn’t appreciate that,” you hummed to yourself in thought. “Nothing much happened, lots of meetings. Now I’m just hanging out in my hotel. How about you?”

“Same here, nothin’ much. Are ya doing anythin’ or just wallowin’ in your loneliness?” He teased, testing the waters a little. You wish you could see his face. See whether he was sporting a shit eating grin or if he was gnawing on his lip nervously.

“Ha-ha,” you shot back, pressing your cell between your cheek and shoulder to stand up and settle near the window. “I’m watching TV and eating my nutritious dinner of cheese, crackers and pepperoni, thank you very much.”

“Dinner?” He scoffed. “Now I think you need'ta hustle on over here and have a real meal. You can’t possibly be callin’ all ‘f those HR shots with that diet, hm?”

You gotta give it to him, you aren’t that smooth on a whim, that takes practice. Looking out at the Austin skyline, you snickered to yourself and leaned against the window’s frame.

“C’mon, I have almost all of my food groups in front of me, I don’t think that’s too horrible,” you retaliated jokingly. “What do you have to offer, huh?”

“Well you got me there, darlin’. I do have wine if you wanna round out your meal,” he offered. You could hear faint tapping coming from the line. He was nervous.

Considering the proposal, you decided to take it, despite your early morning and full day approaching. Joel offered to pick you up so you didn’t have to pay for another cab and you gratefully accepted. You quickly got changed back out of your sleepwear into something almost equally as comfy and perhaps a bit more revealing.

So you find yourself sat on Joel Miller’s couch. The ride was fine, you chatted like before, but with a bit more direct flirting. You observed his spaces. His truck was simple, a little, beat up pickup, but you were sure it got his work done. There were scuff marks from tennis shoes on his dash. Your mind wandered as you imagined if they were from a friend or former lover, but you didn’t let it bother you.

There was a little pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The smell of its woody scent combined with his warm, leathery cologne and a hint of Irish Spring all flooded your senses. And god, he didn’t just smell good, he looked so good.

Joel looked perfect in the driver’s seat, his biceps straining against his smooth skin as he gripped the wheel, prominent veins popping through his forearms. Looked so cozy in his small kitchen, pouring both of you a hefty glass of rosé. His hands enveloped his cup entirely as he brought it to his plush lips. The way they framed his teeth when he smiled down at you gave you heart palpitations.

And even sitting comfortably in the corner of his L-shaped couch, Joel continued to look amazing. His leg was crossed over the other, creating the perfect shelf on his knee for his wine. Those arms stretched far across the back of the couch as he fidgeted with a loose string stuck on the cushion. Everything about him screamed disciplined. The way his spaces were mostly neat, organized and decently decorated added to your observation. He belonged here, and it seemed like he worked hard to get the things he earned.

The casual facade you had faded away the longer you chatted about your lives and sipped on your glasses. Topics like work and hobbies came into conversation, and you learned that Joel liked to play with guitar and sing a little—only when he was alone of course. Then you began talking about more personal matters, like your relationship statuses.

“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed, feeling warm from the wine in your system. “You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

Joel chuckled and shook his head down at the couch. You watched as he observed the cushions-worth of space between you two. By that point, you were fully turned ninety degrees to face him in conversation, your legs tucked comfortably under you. Your face felt hot as you wielded the half empty, stemless wine glass.

“What about the kid in your pictures? Is she your niece or something?” You were referring to the framed photos both nailed to the wall and decorating the table in his entryway. Most of them contained himself and the child, whether she was celebrating with a soccer ball and a trophy or blowing out candles on a cake, her wild curls spilling every which way from her party hat.

“Nah, she’s all mine. My Sarah turned fourteen a few weeks ago,” he smiled to himself, making your heart clench and pound against the confines of your ribcage. The proud look he had on his face told you about everything you needed to know about his relationship with his daughter.

“Fourteen? You don’t seem old enough to have a teenager,” you chuckle. “Where is she tonight? Seems like you got the house to yourself.”

“Why I'm flattered. She’s got a friend’s birthday party sleepover thing. That’s why I had to take the night off. I’m her personal chauffeur, of course,” Joel offered a curtsey jokingly.

Your smile widened as you brought your now second glass of rosé up to sip once more. You don’t care to ask about Sarah’s mother, it was a personal matter and possibly a sensitive subject.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you looked at one another. You watched the automatic rise and fall of his chest and the way his cheeks burned from your gaze. His chocolate eyes bore into yours, melting your heart without even trying. His exterior was gruff and masculine but he had proven time and time again that he was probably one of the kindest men you have met. Must be that southern charm and hospitality, but man was it addicting.

“What?” He barely asked above a whisper, copying your actions with his wine. His attempt to hide his smile behind his clear cup obviously failed. His blush spread down his neck and you could only imagine if it went any farther down. Your thoughts of Joel were beginning to become tainted by your blooming arousal. You wanted him. On top of you, under you, you’d take anything and the growing wetness pooling in your panties was evidence of that.

“Can I be blunt, Joel?” You grinned as you sunk a bit further into the cushion against your side. He responded with a hummed ‘mhm’ so you’d continue, bringing his hand back into his lap. The fabric of his joggers barely contained his strong thighs, making it more and more difficult to contain your urge to see what else lied beneath his pants.

“I really wanna kiss you,” you admitted cheekily, fairly certain that he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, do ya now?” He smirked, leaning over to pluck your glass from your grasp and put it safely on his coffee table along with his own.

“I think you’re a little mind reader,” Joel continued. “‘Cause I was thinkin’ the same thing. Bet those pretty lips are real soft.” His hand found your waist after you confirmed he had consent as he guided you onto his lap. You hummed contently as you draped your arms over his shoulders, toying with the stray, chestnut curls at his nape.

“What happened to Mr. Shy Guy, huh?” You teased, letting his calloused hands explore the expanse of your back as your lips ghosted over his.

“Not shy, just polite, sweetheart,” he rasped before closing the gap between you two. His palms were flush against your lower back, radiating heat through the thin material of your shirt.

You melted into him, bodies pressed as close as possible without your knees sinking between the couch cushions. Lips slotted together and hands wandered as you filled all of your senses with Joel. His tongue was stained with a familiar smoky taste, which was definitely not coming from the wine

“Why do you taste like whiskey?” Your mouth formed a smile against his matching one. His hand cupped your cheek as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“Had some before I called ya,” he admitted bashfully. “Doesn’t matter now.”

In an instant, he was kissing you once more with increased passion, making you completely forgo the subject. His tongue flicked into your mouth, teasing the delicate skin on the inside of your lips. He gripped at your hips, trying to pull you closer to him but your legs protested against his furniture.

“Scoot forward,” you mumbled against him. And he did what he was told. His hips shifted forward, granting you more room to sit directly on his lap. Sighs were drawn from both of you as you settled back into each other, his cock already half hard under you. Your fingers messed with the hair behind his ears, earning a pleased moan from him.

“This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t wan’ it to,” he panted between kisses. Just above a whisper, you uttered, ��I want it,’ and Joel’s hands took it as permission to explore further down your body, palming at your ass through your shorts.

A whimper slipped between your lips into Joel’s, and he swallowed it whole. He pressed your body closer to his, your clothed sex dragging over his sweatpants. His cock twitched up in response to your mouth finding his jaw, his short beard scratching against you.

“Lemme take care of you,” you mused, bringing your hands up the sides of his face. He relaxed back into the couch, his blunt nails pushing under your shorts into the meat of your bare thighs.

You started by kissing his lips once more, then the two prominent patches of missing hair on his chin, and made your way down to his throat. His adam's apple bobbed under your touch as pants grew tighter on him.

“Knew you’d have the best lips, fuck,” he mumbled as you licked up the side of his neck, his pulse racing under your tongue. “Can’t wait to feel your pretty pussy ‘round my cock, sweetheart.”

“Patience, handsome,” you whispered into his ear, your breath sending chills through his body. He let go of your legs as you bunched his shirt into your palms, sitting up to help remove it. Hair scattered sparsely on his chest, pausing on his upper stomach only to come back thicker as it disappeared into his boxers.

Your palms dragged down his torso, skimming over his nipples and ribs as he naturally recoiled from the stimulation. You gently kissed and sucked at his collarbone so it could be hidden away under his shirt. Color rose to the surface of his skin the more you worked at it, flattening your tongue against it once you decided your mark was left properly.

Joel was breathing heavily under you, his hands snaking under your shirt to your breasts. Your nipples were already pebbled through your bralette, becoming unbearably hard the moment Joel started running his thumbs over them. He gently pushed your shirt and bra above your tits, leaning forward to bring one to his mouth as his hand toyed with the other. His tongue lapped your skin, rounding the hardened nipple and sucking it back slightly. An image of him doing the same to your clit had your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Joel,” you mewled as he switched breasts. He spread his saliva around your areola as he picked up his ministrations on the other. A groan vibrated against your skin as your nails raked down his happy trail.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you continued, holding onto the waistbands of his pants and underwear. His unused hand covered yours entirely, pushing it down to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip weeping with precum. Never in your life had you seen a dick so big before, and you couldn’t wait for it to split you in half.

“I won’t last a minute in your mouth, sweet girl,” he drawled, reaching back up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Don’t wanna come before you.”

Spitting onto your fingertips, you mixed it with the slick seeping from his tip then dragged it down his shaft, squeezing it in your palm on the way back up. Joel groaned into your neck. He wedged his hands back under your top, lifting it over your head and forcing your hand to leave his cock.

“Need’ta taste you first,” he muttered, his amber irises completely eclipsed by his pupils. Joel removed you from his lap and laid you down onto the couch. You watched as he settled between your legs and hooked his thick fingers into your bottoms, licking his lips. Raising your hips, he pulled everything off of you, leaving you bare. Cool air hit your glistening pussy, sending a shiver up your spine. You whined out his name after he stared at you for a moment.

“What?” He cooed, smoothing his hands over your inner thighs. “Wan’ me to touch ya, hm? Fuck you with my fingers ‘n stretch that pretty pussy out? Maybe suck on your clit. S’that what you want, darlin’?”

You nod your head furiously, dying with anticipation to have his hands, mouth, something on you. Wordlessly, your foot hooked around the back of his leg as you attempted to pull him closer to you.

“Ah ah,” he tsked. “I think ya gotta ask for it, honey. Ask for it nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whined with desperation. You could feel your arousal dripping down your ass and ultimately onto the couch. “Please fill me up, touch me, taste me, whatever you want.”

“Good, so good f’me. Open up,” he encouraged, slotting his first two digits between your lips. He spread them on each side of your tongue. Saliva collected on his thick fingers as you swirled your tongue around them in figure eights. A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest.

“Yeah I’m gonna put my cock in this pretty mouth next time, baby. Feels perfect on my fingers,” he grumbled. His fingers came out of your mouth with a pop, a string of spit connecting him to you.

Joel finally slipped his fingers through your swollen folds, teasing your entrance and collecting more slick. His fingertips circled lightly around your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat. His free hand tapped against your hip, signaling you to raise them with an ‘up.’ He grabbed a throw pillow and positioned it under you. You relaxed your already trembling legs, and he had barely even touched you.

He settled onto his stomach, spreading your legs apart as far as they’d go. A pointer finger breached your entrance as he kissed the seam where your thigh and pussy came together. Soft moans escaped you as you carded your fingers through his curls. His smug eyes met yours as his tongue moved everywhere but your clit. He looked better than ever between your legs, and you didn’t know that could be possible. His teasing was deserved for what you were doing previously, but it was agonizing.

“Please, Joel,” you groaned. “Please gimme more, I need you.”

Obliging to your request, Joel added another finger into your cunt, curling them both and stroking your g-spot expertly. All of the air left your lungs the moment his flattened tongue finally found your clit. Joel’s groan vibrated throughout your entire pussy, adding to each sensation deliciously. It didn’t take much more for your legs to start shaking and squeezing his head between your thighs, a hot sensation bubbling in your lower belly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop,” you cried, grasping Joel’s hair much tighter than before. He suckled your clit and flicked his tongue over it with a moan, sending you flying over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he rode you through your high. He kissed your trembling thighs until they relaxed, his unmoving fingers still stuffed inside you.

“God, you’re even sexier when you come, sugar. Taste even sweeter too,” he hummed, shifting himself up your body until his lips found yours again. He tasted still of whiskey but with a mix of your arousal.

Joel brought his now soaked fingers back into your mouth to replace his tongue, urging you to suck all of your spend off of them. You hummed around his digits and wrapped your quivering legs around his waist.

“And you were preachin’ to me about patience,” he teased, removing his fingers and stroking his cock a couple times. He was sitting up and resting on his heels, looking like pure sex. His proportions were perfect, he was broad and you’d happily let him crush you under his weight.

“It’s hard to be patient when you look at me like that,” you muse, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Joel snickered quietly, dragging his nails over your inner thighs. Goosebumps followed behind his light touch and your legs twitched when he got close enough to your sensitive core.

“So,” Joel began, settling comfortably on top of you and kissing your jaw. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested last n’ I’ve had a vasectomy. But I’ll gladly get a condom if ya want me to.”

“Hmm, a gentleman,” you grinned, your fingers finding their way back into his hair as you enjoyed his affection. “I’m clean and more than okay without it.”

Joel slotted his cock into your slit with a smirk, groaning at the new sensation. His tip nudged at your clit with each pass, earning moans from both parties.

“Almost came all over this couch with you clenchin’ ‘round my fingers like that, honey,” he drawled. “Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long.”

You gave him a reassuring kiss as you wedged your hand down between you two. Lining up his tip with your entrance, you watched as he disappeared into your welcoming cunt. His face pressed into your neck as he slowly sank into you, anchoring himself with his hands planted on your waist and thigh. Strings of profanities left him as he stretched you out, the pressure you felt quickly morphing into pleasure.

“Shit,” you hissed when he bottomed out. “Feels so good, Joel.”

You urged him to continue, and he complied. Starting slow, he pulled out halfway and pushed back in to test the waters. The drag of your core had his toes curling. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t last long. His cock swelled in you after a few minutes as he panted into your neck.

“Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay, come for me, Joel. Please,” you consoled him, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter. He spilled into you, the sticky fluid coating your inner walls. Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back as he caught his breath.

His face emerged from the crook of your neck, flush and sweaty. He tried apologizing once more but you shushed him. Your lips met again as you grasped his dampened curls, pulling at his locks harder than before. Cock stiffening up again, Joel resumed thrusting into you slowly. A squelching sound emitted from your pussy as his pace quickened.

“Joel,” you gasped, tangling yourself around him tighter. He took it as an opportunity to scoop you up and change positions, sitting on the couch and giving you the freedom to ride him.

“Wan’ you comin’ on my cock, beautiful,” he moaned. His calloused fingertips circled your clit as he fucked his load deeper into you. You bounced on him, his cock spearing you. The tip hit your g-spot with each thrust. Stars sparkled in your vision as you clenched down on him hard.

“C’mon, use my cock, make yourself come. That’s it, fuck.”

His hips bucked up to meet yours halfway, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout his living room. You were a moaning mess, chanting his name haphazardly. Your walls clamped down around him and milked any remaining cum from him as you both reached your second peaks.

“Christ,” he groaned, stilling inside of you. The mixture of your fluids seeped from your fluttering hole. Joel smoothed his palms over your sweat slick back, peppering kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. Praises flew from his mouth like a prayer and you were his goddess, all his to worship.

Joel used his sweatpants to catch any leakage as his softened cock slipped out from you. He took his time with you, helping you regain your composure with more kisses and lingering touches. You followed him to his room where he properly cleaned you up and gave you a Texas Longhorns shirt and boxer shorts.

“You’re more than welcome t’stay,” Joel offered. “Or I can drive ya back. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Your arms snaked up and around his shoulders, stretching yourself up on your tiptoes. A smile crept onto your face as Joel held you steady by your ass. You peeked over at his unmade bed with only two measly pillows, one of them crumpled up in the middle of his bed. A shy smile adorned his face as you refocused on him. He was going to be the death of you.

“Set an alarm and take me to bed, cowboy.”

Late into the following evening, you found yourself back in Pour Choices. A lingering soreness twinged between your legs the entire day. You weren’t there to drink. You wanted Joel.

He started his usual greeting until he realized you had stepped through the doors, another black dress clinging to your body and lips stained a deeper shade of red than before.

“Hey, darlin’,” he smiled breathlessly. You sauntered over to the bar, leaning in close and cutting to the chase in a seductive whisper.

“I’m gonna sit in the corner and wait for you to close up. Wanna return the favor from last night.”

Joel can confidently say that was his quickest close of his career, and you can just as confidently state that you successfully returned the favor, covering that poor man with crimson lip prints. He’d never complain about the physical reminder of you, using it as inspiration on the nights he craved you while you were away. He never thought he’d go from having everything from you for a couple weeks to having nothing for over a year.

“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna remember me,” you smiled softly, a twinge of sadness in your eyes. He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing a new glass and some ice.

“I could never forget you, sugar,” he smirked, grabbing a top shelf whiskey and pouring it into the glass. The crackle of the ice drew your attention. You were always a sucker for whiskey. He remembered.

“On the house, darlin’. Want me to take your other drink? Doesn’t seem like you enjoyed it,” Joel pointed to the condensation lined cup with the half dranken Manhattan. “I know you’re not the sipping type of gal.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you smiled brighter as he took away the used cup. “Y’all don’t make Manhattans like they do back home,” you jabbed, taking a big gulp of the chilled whiskey. Those familiar lip prints stamped on the glass.

“But,” you continued, glancing at his bare ring finger. You observed the sprouting grays in his sideburns and deepened creases on his face, seeing the effect that the last two years had on him. “Y’all have something that New York doesn’t.”

You traced the rim of the glass, trying to pick up any emotion from his expressionless face. He did however crack a small smirk at your comment and leaned against the bar with both hands. Suddenly it felt like everyone else disappeared and it was just you and him in the moment.

“Hm, and what’s that, sweetheart?” He leaned closer and replied softly, but just loud enough for only you to hear.

“You, Joel.”

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: you & i

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fanaticsnail · 2 years ago

Text

Bar Shift: Part 4 (Finale)

And just like that, this little collection is complete! I hope you enjoyed reading my writing as I develop my style.

Word Count: 3,407

Part 3 here.

You immediately found Tori and gave her a warm hug and dismissing her from her duties before seeking out Jacob.

“What’s on the agenda?” you asked him while picking up a rag and beginning to wipe down the bar.

“I’ll do the till and start getting knock-offs ready for the chefs, if you start shutting down the unoccupied areas and chuck on the closing setlist,” he nodded at you with a warm smile, “don’t worry, I’ll leave Sanji’s for you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” you smiled at Jacob and continuing to wipe down the bar and collect empty drinking vessels, “anything interesting happen while I was on my fifteen?”

“Oh, the usual,” he shrugged, “some green-haired swordsman challenged the broody swashbuckler to a duel. I’m placing my bets on the wine-drinker, to be honest with you.”

You hummed in response before making your way over to start cooling down the room with a slow set-list. You shuffled the bar regulars into the broader communal space and bid farewell to the ones done with their dining experience at Baratie.

“Hello pumpkin,” you heard Patty call from behind you. You groaned in response, knowing he was going to playfully jab at you regarding your encounter with Zeff earlier in the morning.

“Hello, you crusty old peppercorn,” you jabbed back at him, causing him to laugh in response. A swarm of chefs entered the bar area, their white chef’s jackets, blue cravats and tall hats removed from their bodies to reveal their casual underclothes.

“Got anything special for knock offs?” he asked you with a warm smile. You collected an empty pitcher formerly containing an amber ale and held it in your arms as you wiped down the surface.

“Jacob’s getting some beer ready for you, if you’re keen,” you responded offhandedly.

“I am absolutely keen, sweetheart,” he responded, clapping a firm hand on your shoulder affectionately. You scrunched your nose at him before ushering him out of your way so you could continue packing down the bar.

After you collected the final miscellaneous pieces of glassware in your arms and placing them in the sink behind the bar, you decided to commence the task of creating something special for Sanji to enjoy. Sure, you’ve shared a bottle of wine or two between you, but after the meal he prepared for you earlier this morning; you couldn’t just bring out any old thing.

You pursed your lips and looked to the vast amount of ingredients laying before you. Several different whiskey varieties, vermouth, wood chips, citrus and rum were calling to you specifically. You then allowed a broad smile to fall over your face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” you heard Jacob call over your shoulder. You turned to him with a determined look on your face.

“Oh no,” he said with a mock surprise, “you’re going to bring out the big cannons, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes I am,” you responded cracking your neck slightly at the challenge.

“You’re gonna do the Rum Martinez?” he asked you with a quirked brow.

“I’m gonna do the Rum Martinez,” you confirmed with a nod of your head, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth.

“Good luck,” he said, patting your back before returning to line up several tankards of amber ale for the chefs as they arrived at the bar.

You collected apple tree wood chips, a blow torch, semi-sweet vermouth, maraschino liqueur, rum bitters and a bottle of one of the finest rums you had on the menu. You placed a tea strainer next to the bar, an empty corked decanter, a cocktail mixer and three glasses on the counter as you began your assembly. You also began rolling three cigarettes and placing them on the counter for later assembly.

As you began assembling this overly complex cocktail, you paid no mind to the amount of your coworkers watching your movements. One set of eyes you were particularly unaware of belonged to your boss, who decided to join his staff for a drink after retiring for the night. He quirked his brow as he saw you reach for the special reserve rum, but chose to remain quiet and not protest at the use.

You used the blowtorch to ignite the woodchips, setting the semi flame-thrower down and immediately dampening the chips with a maraschino cherry reduction. You placed the uncorked decanter over the smoke and successfully syphoned the fumes into the glass container, corking the bottle one completed. You set aside the now cloudy decanter and discarded the woodchips in the compost bin beneath the bar.

You moved on to preparing the liquids for this complex cocktail, pouring equal parts special reserve rum and the semi-sweet vermouth into the cocktail shaker. You brought a small, long armed teaspoon and placed a small portion of the maraschino liquor onto it before moving to place the spoon within the liquid. You scooped some ice into the metal shovel and placed several pieces into the liquid, twirling it to cool it down to a lower temperature for a solid minute.

“What are you making there, sweetheart? Looks overly complicated for a simple knock-off,” you heard Carne call over to you, prompting you to smirk in response.

“Leave her alone, Carne,” you heard your boss order the line cook, prompting your eyebrows to slightly raise, “I’m allowing it, just this once.”

You smiled to yourself, making a mental note to ask for permission, forgiveness and gratitude at him in future.

You brought the tea strainer to the liquid and moved it to the cloudy decanter, timing it in your mind.

“Uncork, strain, recork, swirl, uncork, sift” you repeated three times in your mind before you hyped yourself up enough to undertake the task.

You timed it perfectly: uncorking the smoke-riddled decanter, sifting the rum mixture into the jug without missing a drop, recorking the neck and you began to swirl the mixture within the walls of the glass container.

Sanji walked up from below deck, smiling at Patty and unbuttoning his wrists from his floor uniform and rolling them up. He walked over to the seat Zeff was atop, noticing the intensity of Zeff’s gaze at something behind the bar. He followed his gaze to fall directly on you, rotating a darkened liquid within a cloudy decanter. He smiled as he watched your concentration while you rotated the decanter for the final time, successfully imbuing the apple tree wood-chips into the liquid within.

He took a seat on the bar stool directly beside Zeff, which drew your attention immediately to the two kitchen superiors in front of you.

“Evening Chef,” you acknowledged Zeff first with a nod, “sous-chef,” you nodded at Sanji.

“Evening, Pumpkin,” Zeff responded with a small chuckle, “what are we having?”

You laughed at his question, knowing he would absolutely want a sample of this overly complicated concoction you had assembled: which was why you brought out three glasses instead on just two.

Although he had a complex relationship with the blonde sous-chef when it came to sampling new dishes; when alcohol was involved, his tastebuds were prepped and ready to participate.

“It’s called a Rum Martinez,” you said with a broad smile, placing two crystal short glasses in front of the two leaders of the kitchen. You uncorked the crystal decanter and began pouring 90mls of liquid into the three glasses in front of you. You smiled as you felt the gaze of both Sanji and Zeff completely fixate on the dark liquid as you poured it.

Zeff reached for the glass, prompting you to reprimand the chef.

“Tsk, tsk, impatient as always, Chef,” you scolded him, prompting him to release a low growl. You laughed at his reaction, reaching for the three cigarettes and bringing the filter end to your lips before reaching for the lighter in your lefthand pant pocket. You flicked the flint and ignited the ends of the three cylindrical objects before collecting them from your lips while exhaling away from your guests. You placed the cigarettes with the filters facing your head chef and sous chef with a smile, before doing the same with your own.

“This seems like an overly complex way to propose, but I accept,” Zeff laughed, reaching again for the glass which you finally allowed him to collect. You scrunched up your nose and felt again a blush rise to your cheeks in semi-embarrassment. Sanji laughed at your reaction and leaned in to collect his own glass, placing the cigarette between his lips and inhaling the nicotine ridden object while closing his eyes. As he held the smoke in his chest, he took a small sip of the rum cocktail and held it on his tongue. He released a long breath as he focussed on the burn your cocktail left on his tongue as his senses became engulfed by the flavours you presented before him.

“You’re a bit late, Chef,” Sanji exclaimed with a small smirk, “apparently we’re already married.”

You laughed at his comment, picking up the cigarette and drawing in a long breath while bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a sip. You exhaled the smoke through your nose while you gulped back the dark contents and savoured the burn it left behind.

You and Sanji exchanged glances now and again while you continued to aid Jacob in packing down the bar while refilling the tankards belonging to the chefs before you. You placed your glass down behind the bar while you wiped own the bar for the hundredth time this particular shift before removing the till and locking it, placing it in the safe below the bar.

“And I’m done,” you heard Jacob say next to you, “I’m cutting Carne off, by the way. No more for him.”

You laughed at his comment while welcoming him into an embrace as you felt the relief of completing a successful shift with your coworker.

“Well done, Jacob,” you laughed with him, finally feeling a tiredness overcome your body. Jacob held you there slightly before bringing you in to murmur quietly to you.

“I’ve decided I’m covering your split-shift tomorrow,” he smiled at you. You widened your eyes in shock, a large smile widening over your cheeks.

“You’re joking,” you exclaimed in delight.

“I am absolutely not,” he again murmured to you, “now go get your man.”

You laughed at him before playfully hitting his arm in response to his comment. You then looked over his shoulder to see Sanji looking at you with a vacant expression while engaging with Zeff.

“I’ve already marked it on the roster and signed you out,” he further clarified while exiting the bar to join the chefs for his knock off.

“You’re amazing, Jacob,” you called after him before turning to walk back over to Zeff and Sanji.

Zeff began rising from his place on the stool, and turned to exit the bar.

“Heading in, Chef?” you asked him with a smile on your face.

“Yes, love,” he responded with an exhausted expression on his face. You reached forward and patted his arm gently.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for inventory,” you chirped lightly at him, extending familial warmth to him.

“You absolutely will not,” he growled, “Jacob is covering for you. I’m going to teach him inventory. Enjoy your day off.”

You laughed at him before he dismissed you to make your way over to Sanji who was resting his elbows against the bar while waiting for you.

“Finally,” he exclaimed when you joined his field of vision, prompting you to tilt your head to the side coyly.

You retrieved your glass containing the complex drink you made earlier and brought it to your lips, knocking back the remainder of the liquid.

“Finally,” you confirmed with him after swallowing the flame-like, smoky liquid. He looked down at the bar bashfully before returning his gaze to you.

“When do you start tomorrow? I should let you turn in,” he said, a small amount of sorrow expressed in his tone.

“As it so happens,” you began while reaching for a bottle of sangiovese and collecting two wine glasses, “I’m off tomorrow.”

Immediately Sanji widened his eyes and extended a solid grin your way.

“So, I can keep you up past your bed time, then?” he asked you playfully, his grin turning into a small smirk at the corner of his lips.

“Honey,” you taunted him with a mischievous smirk, leaning your body over the bar to bring your face closer to his, “you can keep me up all night long.”

His playful glint fled from his face as he shifted his gaze between your eyes, flittering to your partially parted lips in complete silence at your comment. All playfulness seemingly fell from your face in turn, unsure as to if your comment was crossing some unwritten line between you and your coworker. The words truthfully fell from your lips faster than your brain could keep up with them, allowing your little proximity crush to possess your lips as they spurted those flirtatious words.

He suddenly removed his elbows from the bar and brought his hands to cradle your face between them and hungrily placed his lips against yours. You heard him sharply inhale through his nose as he opened his mouth to deepen the connection shared between you. You let out a small squeal at the passion of his actions and widened your eyes in shock at the haste of his sudden expression of desire. He held your face in the palms of his hands before snaking them to the back of your neck with a light moan as he gently massaged his fingers into the hairline at the nape of your neck. And as soon as the connection was brought between you, he pushed himself away from you and released his hands from behind your neck. His newly reddened lips were parted and his eyes were wide seemingly as in shock as you were at the wild intensity that his body voiced to you.

“I am so sorry,” he spluttered apologetically at you, refusing to bring his off-guard gaze to meet yours. You bit your lip and looked at the bar, still in shock from the kiss you shared with him.

It felt like a full century had passed between you, although in reality it had only been a few seconds of uninterrupted, awkward silence. You turned your head and softened your gaze to look at the young sous-chef in front of you, as he continued to fixate his sights on the polished wooden bar in front of you both. Partially fuelled by the flaming liquid you consumed earlier and the knowledge that Sanji potentially returned your formerly unrequited infatuation with him, you mustered up some courage to perform something you never thought you would.

You hoisted yourself on top of the empty bar in front of him, tucking your knees beneath you to sit on top of your calves. He snapped out of his trance and brought all of his attention to your actions. You reached down and grasped his jaw between your hands, lifting him to plant his feet on the ground rather than remaining sitting atop the wooden stool. You allowed your hair to cascade over your shoulder as you leant down and brought your lips against his own for the second time tonight.

It was Sanji’s turn to be in complete shock as you began to physically return the kiss he planted against your lips moments prior. You laced your fingers in his hair and raked it away from his face while tilting his jaw up for you to deepen the kiss. You rolled your head slightly while teasing the entrance of his mouth by flickering his bottom lip with your tongue.

The small flick of your tongue seemed to break his trance as he reached up and wrapped his bare arms around your thighs and hoisted you off the top of the bar; prompting a delighted gasp to escape from between your lips. In one swell movement, he sat your body on his lap as he took a seat once more atop the bar stool. He moved his arms from beneath your legs to allow you to relax now, fully sat on his lap, choosing to embrace your lower back with his right hand to secure your body against his own. His left hand moved to the space between your shoulder blades and pulled you flush against his torso as he moaned into the kiss.

You felt him smile against your lips as he moved his own tongue out to flick playfully at your own. You gasped at that small flicker, using your tongue to move beneath his and caress the small piercing located beneath his tongue you saw earlier this morning. He moaned in response to you finding the small piercing, which prompted you to laugh slightly into the kiss.

He stood once more, gently lowering your body to your feet without breaking the kiss. You moved your hands down to his neck, successfully locating his navy tie hanging loosely from his neck. You successfully laced your hand around it and used it to lever him closer against you to maintain some semblance of control in this completely unforeseen turn of events.

Sanji grinned into the kiss before being the first to pull away from your grip. He looked at you through half-lidded eyelashes with a look of pure adoration overcoming his features. You attempted to bring his lips against yours for a third time, but he stopped you from continuing your assaulting flurry of passionate kisses. You widened your eyes at his actions, again assuming you somehow misread the situation unfolding between you.

“I’m sorry, Sanji,” you gasped out in shock, apologising for your sudden intimate outburst.

“No apologies necessary, princess,” he replied with a bashful smile, “I was very much enjoying our little kiss and I want nothing more than to kiss you again.”

You quirked your head to the side and released his tie from your restraining grasp, opting to lace them behind his neck instead. He continued to hold your lower back in an embrace, tracing small circles into your skin.

“What’s stopping you from kissing me again now?” you asked him, creasing your brows in confusion but continuing to smile at the blonde chef. He exhaled a light laugh before nodding his chin to the corner of the bar.

You shook your head before following his gaze to meet with the beady and ever watchful eyes of the Den-Den Mushi Snail Zeff had placed in the corner of the bar earlier in the year to catch potential thieves from stealing liquor and berry from the till. You froze against him, prompting him to laugh again at you before caressing your cheek to return your gaze to seek out his own.

“That was watching the whole time?” you hissed through gritted teeth at him.

“I only just noticed it myself,” he took a deep breath through his nose and held it slightly, “just before you decided to crawl over the bar, to be completely honest.”

You groaned and pressed your forehead against Sanji’s chest in an attempt to shield you from further embarrassment. You felt him smile as he pressed his lips to the side of your head and held you in an embrace.

“C’mon,” he said, capturing your chin with his thumb and index finger and bringing your eyes to meet his, “let’s go to the kitchen. We’ll break in to the old man’s office, take back any pictures the bloody thing took and I’ll cook you anything you want.”

You smiled warmly at him and pressed your lips against his in what was intended to be a partially chaste kiss. Instead; he held your chin firmly and continued the kiss, chasing your lips as you intended to pull away from him with his own. You smiled against his lips before patting his chest to signal for him to break from your lips.

“Enough,” you emphatically scolded him in a playful whisper before pulling away from his embrace and briskly making your way towards your boss’s office.

“You’ve been teasing me over these past few years, what do you expect?” he called after you with a teasing tone. You chose not to acknowledge his taunt, which caused him to bite his lip before twirling his piercing between his teeth and follow closely behind you.

#one piece #sanji #sanji opla #sanji x reader #x reader #opla

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