your bartender

3

So, in honor of midsummer and the summer solstice I’ve teamed up with @witches-of-ouroboros and will be posting some seasonal witchy libations! First off is the most time consuming component of one of my cocktails, an infusion for summer vodka. Really it can be made or drank anytime if you have the ingredients and the time.

Supplies: rose petals and buds, chamomile, and elderflower, vodka, and a Mason jar.
The amount of each varies depending on the size of the Mason jar, but for the purpose of my example, I will be using an 8oz Mason jar.

Clean the jar well, even if it’s new. Hot water, soap, more hot water until all the soap is gone, and because I’m me, I pour a little vodka, and a splash of absinthe and swirl this all through the jar an lid both to give a final disinfection and, the absinthe adds a little more magical oomph. But absinthe is a topic for another day;)

I measured my dried* roses about a third if the way in the jar. Next a heaping tablespoon of chamomile, and another of elderflower. I added another few rose buds so it was just below the halfway point.
Top with vodka until you get a little bit below the rim!
Close tightly and shake once a day for the next 5-7
*dried flowers and herbs infuse faster and use up less space than fresh. If you have access to a large amount of fresh, food safe flowers and herbs for your infusions, have at it!

Almost forgot, taste it after five days and see if you want it stronger. It should have a delicate but noticeable flavor. Strain and store in a clean jar.

Roses have had their fair share in the histories and cultures. Used in love spells, prosperity and other rituals, the focus and intent of roses actually comes from a Greek legend concerning Aphrodite, the rose was created when the foam of the sea fell off her naked form, and her tears dyed the roses red. The rose represents a duality in love. Love of self, and love of another. New love and lost love.

Elderflowers are used to relieve emotional burdens and that feeling of being stuck, creating joy, and inviting prosperity and health into your life.

Chamomile is added for purification, prosperity and tranquility.

Roses are associated with water, vodka with earth, elderflower with the sun, and chamomile with fire.

All For Show

Valentine’s Day Special #2

Pair : Steve Rogers x Reader

8. You ask your best friend to pretend to be your boyfriend for your sisters couples dinner party. Requested by anon. 

Warning : Language

Word Count : 2,434

Three knocks, that’s all it took before Steve opened the door. He stood there, wearing a tank top and sweats, and his hair damped from sweat, which only meant he just came back from the gym.

“Hey, didn’t expect you here today.” He smiled, waving you in.

“I know, but I needed to talk to you.”

You walked in to his apartment, and plopped down onto his couch. His place was like your second home. You were always there, and if you weren’t, then you two were at your place.

“Beer?” He asked, walking to the kitchen.

“Nah, just water.”

Steve tossed you a water bottle, as he started back toward the living room where you waited.

You took a big swig of the water and felt the cold liquid trickle down your throat. Making you feel somewhat at ease.

“So what did you need to talk to me about?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall across from you.

For some reason you were feeling nervous. Which was strange. Steve was your best friend. You two were so close, you were able to talk to him about anything. He’s seen you in sweats with no makeup on. He’s helped you when you were a drunken mess. And yet, you were somehow nervous about this topic.

“Y/N.” he snapped his fingers, catching your attention. “You okay?”

You slowly nodded, running your hand through your hair. Something you did when you were nervous.

“So my sister is throwing a couples party tomorrow night, and when I RSVP’d a month ago, I was dating Jared-”

“The asshole.” He cut you off.

“Woah, language.” You teased.

He dramatically rolled his eyes and huffed. “Anyways, go on.”

“As I was saying, I told her I’d go and now she’s expecting me to be there.”

“So?” He drawled out.

You swallowed hard, meeting your best friends gaze.

“I was wondering if you can go as my fake boyfriend.” You slightly winced as the words finally fell from your lips.

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You Look Like You Need a Drink (M)

Originally posted by hidden--demons

Summary: After a bad week with the worst luck imaginable, you happen upon a local dive bar run by an attractive young bartender who livens up your evening.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 7,221

Warning: Bartender!Yoongi, tattooed!Yoongi, sexual harassment, sexual themes, power play, manners kink, alcohol use, profanity

A/N: I wrote this last year for my dear friend’s birthday and swore this fic would never see the light of day. I have since “remastered” it, so to speak, so I’m sharing it here. SURPRISE!

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Get Into My Car

Title: Get Into My Car

Summary:  Dean and the reader are enjoying a night out, until someone ruins the evening

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Reader

Word Count: 1889

Warnings:  Body shaming, derogatory terms directed toward a plus-sized reader, drinking, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, smut, nsfw

Author’s Notes:  Written for two challenges: @winchester-writes Drinking Writing Challenge. My drink was Glenfiddich Scotch and my prompt was “What is everyone staring at?!” and @butiaintgonnaloveem Baby’s Big 50 Writing Challenge. My song was Get Out of My Dreams, Get Into My Car by Billy Ocean. Thank you to @feelmyroarrrr for the amazing idea. This wouldn’t have been possible without my bestie, @mamapeterson and her support, encouragement and words. Love you, T.

Originally posted by spn-spam

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Sweet Creature (M)

*I have no words*

Request: Can I get a Sub Jungkook smut where their on the couch and he cums in his pants while the reader is grinding on him on his lap and dirty talks to him in his ear??? Thanks☺️☺️☺️

Word Count: 6.9k words (heh heh)

Let me ruin you goddammit


Let’s get one thing straight. You never claimed to be a good person, never did charity work, never been the perfect daughter for your parents. And you sure as hell wasn’t someone’s little girlfriend.

You did what you want, who you wanted and slipped out of their sheets before they murmur good morning in your ear. You were a ‘no strings attached’ girl, making sure that you would never become someone’s puppet. Of course, you weren’t immune to the disease called ‘love’, your innocent high school days plagued with your naive mindset of finding the ‘one’. It still haunts you, one of the reasons your night doesn’t end with a shot of whisky and half a pack of beer. The only person who was willing to put up with you was your best friend, Jungkook.

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Paranoia | M

“Does it look like I want to be stuck with you for the rest of my life?”

Précis; Because waking up beside the one you have always despised isn’t something that you thought would ever actually happen.

Note: Since this post was eaten awhile back, I had to rewrite it..good thing my memory is A1 lol. *whispers* this is hella revamped so if you read it before..it’s 85% different | Words ➳ 11k

Genre & Warnings: Fluff, humor and minor angst. O h, & light smut. ((: {ft. Jungkook} | enemies to lovers au

➳ paranoia ; suspicion and mistrust of people or their actions without evidence and justification.


It was the tinkling of ice that rummaged within your glass of liquor that you debated whether to drink the contents and regret it the day after or to deny the free offer the bartender had given you; to try their new bottle they had promptly started to sell within the specific bar. Your eyes narrowed towards the softly fizzing contents inside your glass, scrutinizing the bubbles as they dispersed after floating about the liquid for more than a few seconds — having wasted their purpose as they popped small amounts of gas within the air. You were so entranced, giving yourself thousands of reasons why drinking at that moment shouldn’t even be debatable to notice the bartender laugh under his breath.

“It’s not going to kill you, you know.” He said, shaking a blender cup before he started to pour someone else a glass of alcohol.

You pursed your lips, glancing to your phone hoping you would receive a text back but to your dismay, you had received nothing. “It may not kill me,” you started while you softly flicked the glass with your finger as the crushed ice began to dance with one another, “but it will ruin my life.”

He hummed, resting his elbow on the counter and towards your sober state of mind, sliding the cup a little closer to you. “But it may also give you something to live for.”

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Guy What Takes His Time*

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Featuring: Natasha, Wanda, Sharon (mentioned) and Sam.
Rating: Mature
Summary: Wanda, Natasha and Sam think Steve has feelings for Reader, but she tells them otherwise while actually feeling the same way for the super soldier. One evening,  they all make a plan to make both of them confess the truth.
Word Count: 2.2k
Genre: Fluff/NSFW-ish
Warnings: build-up, suggestive themes, and innuendos, mentions of alcohol, sexual tension, a little bit of roleplay, flirting, Captain kink (?) and Steve being a cute flustered bastard.
Author's Note: It’s a rewrite of the flirty scene between Natasha and Bruce in Avengers: Age of Ultron (you can expect some references, though). I thought it could be fun to switch sides with Steve and see how it goes. It’s also inspired by Guy What Takes His Time covered by Christina Aguilera in Burlesque.

  New Avengers Facility, Upstate New  York

“You did a great job, Y/N,” Steve announced in his deep voice as he passed the hallway with you, Natasha, and Wanda. “Ladies.” He stopped in his tracks, standing with this impressive physique, almost towering in front of you as his hands held the brown belt of his- oh, so sexy uniform.

“Thank you, Captain.” You smiled and he nodded slowly as if questioning whether he would stay to have a chat with you or not. He smiled gently and proceeded to take the stairs towards his personal quarters where he’d finally take a well-deserved shower after a hard, but successful mission with you and Sam.

Of course, he would’ve loved to linger awhile and see your smile just a little longer. He enjoyed spending time with you and the feeling was mutual. Maybe that after all these days spent with him, these missions where you saved each other, being partners and all this harmless flirting, there was something between you. Your chemistry was obvious to everyone after all.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” Wanda nudged your side and you winced, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t be silly, Steve likes you a lot.”

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Heartbeat | 2

You convince Hoseok you can do ‘no strings attached’.

Originally posted by hoseokxx

pairing: hoseok x reader
word count: 13.2k
genre: gang!au, smut
inspiration

part one

warnings: dom!Hoseok, demeaning names, oral, public sex



You knee bounced up and down nervously. An hour had passed and still no reply from Hoseok. You bit back a sigh, regretting sending that ‘What are you doing tonight?’ message to him. You felt like an idiot, worse yet, a desperate idiot.

You cringed, remembering the hope that had sprung in your chest as you boldly fired off that text to Hoseok. You had honestly expected him to reply back straight away, conveying some kind of interest, wanting you as badly as you wanted him. Instead, you had nothing but stifling silence.

“Are you liking the film?” Taehyung leaned over and whispered, his eyes were full of concern and you gave him a weak smile in return. “It’s just a little bit scary,” You lied. He nodded and offered you a warm smile. “I’ll protect you,” He said reassuringly. Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you felt your heart leap in your chest. “Thanks Tae,” You responded faintly, staring straight at the TV until Taehyung glanced away from you, focusing on the movie again. 

Struggling to stay calm, you glanced down surreptitiously at your phone, feeling your heart race in your chest. There was a message notification, from a string of numbers- someone who wasn’t in your contacts. 

It was him. Hoseok.

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Bottoms Up

A/N: I felt like it’d been a while since I’d written anything that focused on Yoongi, so I really wanted to write something~ I started this a few weeks ago and then got distracted by life and finishing up college for the semester, but I finally finished it so here I am~ Hopefully you all enjoy it lol

Words: 3,007

Genre: Smut


Clubs aren’t your thing—but you give them a chance, because you don’t want to seem like the party pooper amongst your group of friends. Despite their efforts to get you to show some skin, though, you still end up walking into the club wearing a tank-top, skinny jeans, and a pair of laced up high-tops. You weren’t here to be hit on—you didn’t want some creep trying to slide his hand up your inner thigh. You were here to socialize, down some drinks to get over your regret of coming, and then hopefully leave with the first friend in your group who would call it a night.

So, you saddle up to the bar, waving at your friends as they scuttle out onto the dance floor—all high heels and short skirts. Once they disappear into the throng of grinding bodies, you spin on your stool, turning to rest your elbows on the counter top—

…and the bartender is right in front of you. Skinny, but well rounded—dark hair hanging slightly into his eyes, black button up fitted to his torso perfectly. His face remains void of any emotion, but when he catches your surprised stare and the slight part of your lips, he smirks.

“What can I start you with?” he asks, voice deeper than you had expected, a bit rough, but still clearly heard over the music of the club. You pause at the question, your mind blanking.

“I…I’ll take a rum and coke, unless you have something better to give me,” you say, trying to scrape up your remaining shred of composure. The male cocks an eyebrow, looking a little contemplative.

“You wanna get drunk? Or do you just wanna buzz so you can still punch the guy that tries to steal your panties? I mean you gotta throw me a bone here.”

“I don’t even fucking know, man,” you say honestly, leaning back a little to motion at yourself. “Look at me. I mean—it’s not exactly like easy access is written all over my jean-clad legs.”

The bartender hums, reaching down to snag a shot glass. “I’ve been looking at you for a minute or two now and you’re surprising cute despite the outfit,” he comments, reaching behind him to grab a bottle of Kahlua. “Clearly you’re not here to let anyone finger you in the back alleyway, though,” he continues, chuckling when he catches your blush and stunned look.

With skill, he snatches up a bottle of Grand Marnier and Bailey’s too, layering the liquors in a shot glass with exact precision. When he’s finished, he gently slides it towards you, meeting your questionable stare.

“It’s good. Sweet liquor for a sweet girl. Take it—it’ll help you loosen up a little.”

“Are bartenders usually this flirty?” you question him, downing the shot in one go (because damn this dude is making you warm already).

“Only to those who perk our interest,” he responds, taking the shot glass from you after you set down. You laugh, feeling somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah? Should I consider myself lucky then?”

“Depends on your definition of lucky,” he chuckles, eyes fliting to the side when another couple up the bar slurs for him. Smile dropping from his lips, he quickly moves around, throwing some ice into a glass—filling it a third full with rum and the remainder with coke.

“Suck on that till I get back,” he says briefly, sliding it to you, and you watch him, brows lifted in surprise as he quickly goes to tend on other patrons.

Taking the cool glass into your hand, you gently swirl the contents before taking a long sip.

You’re not sure what that bartender is aiming for, playing with your emotions like this, but…dammit, you really don’t mind.


Ten minutes later, dark and mysterious bartender is back in front of you, elbow propped on the counter, interest sparking in his irises as he listens to you ramble about all the things you don’t really like about clubs. You hadn’t exactly meant to just…open up to him, but…you’re beginning to think your tolerance is a bit lighter than you had assumed.

“I’m baffled you’re even here,” he muses, refilling your glass. “It seems like you’d rather be at home, reading a book, or doing some kind of other dorky, yet cute thing.”

Right? I don’t know, man—I wanted to not seem like the boring friend, but even when I’m here I’m still hiding at the bar,” you say, sighing, and rest your cheek in the palm of your hand. The bartender breathes a laugh, regarding you thoughtfully.

“You could always go.”

“Yeah, but…,” you begin, eyes flitting up to his, and his stare has you feeling a bit weak. “You’re here.”

At that, that man pauses, any movement stopping as his eyes fall from yours, lowering to regard the countertop. You watch him, cheeks hot, regret sinking in your stomach. Luckily, after a few seconds—instead of walking away or anything else that could potentially break your heart—he meets your gaze again and opens his mouth to respond.

…however, just as he does, the same drunk couple form before shouts for him at the other end of the bar and, sighing, the dark haired male hurries away. You’re once again left staring after him, hands fidgeting against your half-downed glass.

What the hell are you doing?


A little less than 20 minutes later—mister dark and mysterious having somehow disappeared from the bar without you noticing, you push your finished drink to the side and slide off your stool. You don’t want to drink anymore—you really don’t want to be here—and now that the flirty, cute bartender is gone, you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself.

More than anything, you just want to tap out and go home, but, before you can, one of your friends spots you near the edge of the dance floor and hurries over. Grabbing your wrist, she tugs you into the mass of people, and you can’t think to tell her that you’re really not in the mood for dancing—especially considering that she has already dragged you into the middle of the action.

So, reluctantly, trying to let any of your worries go (as well as thoughts of the dark-haired bartender—who you may or may not have fallen for), you begin dancing with your friends. At first, things go well—you loosen up a bit, swing your hips, feel the music—but after a few minutes you feel a pair of hands land on your hips. Glancing down—catching sight of pale, long fingers—you realize that this isn’t one of your girlfriends.

“Sorry–,” you begin, taking a step forward, trying to let the person know that you’re not about that tonight—but the fingers only tighten, and you feel a males chest lightly press against your back.

“You said weren’t about dancing, yet when I stopped by the bar on my way out for the night and noticed you were gone, I find you out here on the dance floor,” the deep, familiar voice speaks, and fuck the heat you’d felt before is igniting your blood once more.

“You—I thought—”

“My shift was over. I left to grab my stuff and planned to come back to the bar to take you home with me, but—”

“I…what??” you say, flushing red, turning your head to try and face him, but his fingers dig into your waist, holding your still, and his lips press heatedly against your neck. That has you gasping, grinding back against him as his teeth and tongue work at your throat.

“My name is Yoongi, by the way,” he says, sucking particularly hard, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Yoongi,” you repeat, testing the name on your tongue. But his name alone rolling from your lips has Yoongi growling quietly, one of his hands sinking lower to grip your ass through your jeans. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, lifting one of your hands backwards to tug his hair.

“If you were going to take me home then take me already,” you breathe, grinding your ass back yet again, and before you can gather your head you’re being pulled off the dance floor, Yoongi’s grip tight on you wrist.

“Then let’s go.”

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“Tame You” - Jay Park X Reader (Smut)

Description: You and your friend have been dating Jay Park and Simon Dominic of AOMG for quite a while before they both decided that their careers were getting in the way of your relationship as their schedules were getting busier by the day. An encounter in a club located in Seoul happens a month after both relationships ended.

  • Word Count: 3827 words


Your hips swayed once more on the beat of a menacingly slow song before you left the dance floor, making your way towards the bar. Your friend lifted her hand in the air to attract the bartender’s attention and she ordered what was probably your favorite drink, seeing as she knew all too well what this little escapade was about. To be fair enough, you both needed it more than you actually thought. It felt good to let go for once. After all, it’s been over a month since it happened and you never got a call or anything close to that. 

Your hand gripped the shot of Jager and you gulped it down, allowing the burning sensation to set in your throat for the third time tonight. 

“Do you think they know we’re in Seoul?” (H/N) asked, eyeing you from behind her cocktail glass as you traced your finger around the mouth of the now empty shot. 

“If they do, they did a poor job of actually finding us,” you rolled your eyes, turning your gaze towards the bartender. Your hand shot up in the air as soon as he looked at you and you motioned for him to bring you another glass of the fiery drink.

 "They come out here frequently, I don’t think they want to find us though, so,“ you shrugged, emptying another shot of Jager, “let’s at least have fun." 

Your heels hit the floor as you got up on your feet and dragged your friend back on the dance floor, swaying your hips once again, catching every note of the song in mesmerizing moves of your body. Your eyelids felt heavy as you closed them and got all caught up in the mood, not even feeling your own breathing but the sound of your heartbeat succumbing to the body-vibrating bass. You forgot all about Jay, about the breakup and the lame excuse he gave you, his whispered "I love you” as you ended the call, tears pouring down your cheeks.

 The animalistic side of you drew you further into the mass of people dancing out of sync as you felt a single presence behind you, imitating your moves.

 "All alone tonight?“ you barely heard the voice over the blasting music. You bobbed your head up and down into a nod, pointing at your friend that was currently too lost in the music to notice, "only with her.”

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anonymous asked:

pls draw the bartender from your 'my shot' animatic

before the rev squad

here’s the bartender with his wife who he loves very much, gives discounts often, offers help to everyone, has 5 beautiful kids, wouldnt hurt a fly, tries his best

after the  rev squad

owns 5 shotguns, still loves his wife but.. theyve been through so much together,, the kids didnt have a normal childhood, killed 5 people
doesnt let anyone have more than one drink, their bar had to be closed bc the customers stopped coming or died

Secret Identity

Stripper!Au Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Just the a good old Stripper fic.

Word Count: 3,671

Warnings: Crack fic, Language, Drinking, Suggestive Stuff… (come on)

A/N: I don’t know what happened. It’s incredibly long… but I had fun ;) Since I don’t have anything better, this is my gift for 2.5k Thank you all so much ♥

Originally posted by ddee99

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Wanda,” your friend replied with a proud smirk.

You rubbed the spot between your eyes where you could feel a headache coming. Wanda was in charge of Natasha’s bachelorette party. You were supposed to spend the evening in a fancy restaurant, but clearly Wanda had other plans.

“I love it!” Natasha took your hand and made you follow her.

You paid the entry fee and walked into the strip club. It was noisy and surprisingly bright. You cringed as the smell of alcohol hit your nose. Wanda gave you her best innocent smile and looped her arm through yours.

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The Five Things You Know, and the One You Don’t

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2567

A/N:  back for round twoooo…..I feel like we all need some Bucky fluff right now

“Dammit!”

You lost your second out of four lives in this Nerf war, thanks to someone—someone most likely named Steve.  He’s a sneaky one. It’s pouring outside and nobody was in the mood to do anything productive, naturally the first suggestion had been a Nerf war.

“Y/N, you will be avenged!”

Pietro vaults over the couch, very action movie-esque, which would have been impressive if he hadn’t been shot right after.

“Oh. Sorry, I’m out,” he sighs.  

“It’s okay, I appreciate the backup,” you say, sending your teammate a smile. By your count, it was only Bucky and you left on your team, versus Steve, Sam and Wanda on the other.  You weren’t sure how many lives each of them had, but you all promised to be honest.

“Y/N,” Bucky hisses. He waves his Nerf gun in a complicated circle.

“What?”

“Shh!”

If there was a way to see your face, it would read ‘???’.  A floorboard creaks behind you, and Bucky grabs your wrist and covers you until you’re safely behind the bar. A spark runs down your forearm but you attribute it to your socks shuffling on the carpet. 

He turns to you. “Didn’t I tell you the code?”

“No, it looked like random flailing—“ You raise your gun over the bar and shoot Wanda.  

She slouches. “How’d you know?”

You point behind Bucky. “The floating red stuff around the bullet about to hit him gave you away. How many more lives?”

“None.” She lowers her voice. “Sam’s got one more, but Steve’s got all four. Hurry, this game’s gone on long enough.”

Bucky mumbles ‘Steve’ under his breath and rises to go hunt for his best friend. It’s a good match, Bucky has all his lives too. Sam is yours. You tiptoe around the floor searching for any place that might house Sam.

“Oh, Bird Man,” you coo, knowing the nickname riles him up, “come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Just as you suspected: a poof from a gun misses your elbow. Bending down to pick up the foam bullet, you smile. Based on the trajectory, Sam was hiding behind the bookshelf.  Quietly, you sneak up on him and bombard him with foam before he can retaliate. Good ol’ physics, who knew it actually comes in handy?

You feel the spark again the next morning while getting your coffee, but this time you’re nowhere near a carpet.

“There’s my partner in crime!” Bucky announces when he sees you, “Have I told you about her?”

“Multiple times,” Sam says, clearly miffed, he’s swirling his tea bag more than usual.

“I’ll tell you again.  She kicked ass.”

“Is this coffee bitter, Sam?” You took a sip. “No. It must be you.”

Bucky throws an arm around your shoulders. His touch burns where your tank top can’t cover, and you have to concentrate on breathing properly. It’s like you had just come back from a run, your breath is completely knocked out of your lungs. Bucky’s holding onto you so his legs don’t give out from under him from the speechless look on Sam’s face; he’s laughing and declaring that you made his day.

First; he touches you and you light on fire. Your wrist blazes where his fingers meet your skin.  The burns don’t show, but it’s hard to breathe with ash in your lungs.  It’s so hard to breathe. You’re suffocating daily.

“What’s up with you?” Nat asks, “I was talking to you and you zoned out.”

“She’s drooling over Barnes,” Wanda replies, nudging you lightheartedly. You confessed to your crush on Bucky at the weekly girls lunch. Wanda wasn’t surprised.

“Yes, Bucky is over there, and yes, I happen to be staring in that direction, but I wouldn’t call it drooling.”

“You’re so smitten! Y/N, I can see it even without my powers.”

“He doesn’t know, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

Bucky’s on the patio, settling in a chair to play cards with Steve and Pietro.  You were staring at him, more specifically at his chest, since he had just emerged from the pool. Each droplet of water was having the time of its life trying to find its way through the maze of muscle definition, and you couldn’t tear your gaze away.  You’re starting to get hot and bothered imagining your fingers as the droplets.  

“Hey,” Nat murmurs.  

She jerks her chin at the guys. Bucky is waving at you to come over and greets you warmly when the three of you pull up seats at the table and Pietro deals you into a game of blackjack. You’re sitting two seats away from Bucky; here he’s barely a head tilt from being in your immediate vision, and you have a full view of the six—no, eight pack. Yikes.

You don’t want to get caught staring, but you can’t not stare.  Cruelly, the universe dips the sun lower in the sky, and its rays spill on Bucky like a goddamn spotlight.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you swear under your breath.

“Bad cards, Y/N?” Nat asks, and you jump on her excuse, nodding. You notice her subtly pointing down to her abdomen, then up at her face.  It’s a silent way of saying, ‘his eyes are up there.’

Bucky stretches to grab his towel, and you can feel yourself blushing when his muscles twist and contract. At the same time, Pietro makes a joke and Bucky’s smiling in that cute way where his nose scrunches. It’s too much too much–

You put on your sunglasses.

Second; it hurts to watch him. He shines. He’s brighter than the sun, he’s too beautiful for your eyes.  It’s hard to look at him.  It’s even harder to look away from him.  You’re going blind.

Two days later, you’re sitting on a bar stool tugging at the hem of your dress.  Nat swears it makes your legs look a mile long when you walk, but you’re tired of standing and are in dire need of a drink. Preferably something strong.  

“Tony, is your floor strong enough to handle this many people? I’m genuinely concerned,” you ask when Tony whizzes by, his arm around Happy Hogan, who is looking a little too happy.  You have to duck when he tries to hug you, claiming you’re too pretty to be sitting on the sidelines.

“Yeah, I designed it, it’ll even withstand Banner if someone pokes him. Stark guarantee.”

“Come dance with me!”

“I’m okay here, Hogan, but next party, alright?”

Tony chuckles and guides his tipsy friend over to a couch. Once he’s sure Hogan has a water bottle to sober up with, Tony hops on stage. “Introducing our entertainment for this evening!”

“Here’s your vodka cranberry.” The bartender hands you a glass as a gorgeous woman walks up to the microphone.

You thank him and take a few sips listening to the woman singing a slow ballad. You scan the crowd, looking to see if Hogan likes the music, but then you see him. It’s common knowledge that if you are looking at someone you can hear their voice better, though with you it’s like your ears are always plugged in to the Bucky Barnes Radio Show.

“Stevie, when do these things end?”

“Late, Buck. Around two.”

“In the morning?!”

You want to unplug the microphone so you can hear Bucky better, his baritone voice is heaven to your ears.  As the singer hits an impossibly high note, you wonder why people are clapping, impressed. Why is anyone listening to this, this noise when he’s speaking?

Struck with a sudden idea, you down the last of your drink and weave your way around the mesmerized guests. You squeeze past two middle-aged men—who, if you’re not mistaken, invented Google; they’re probably smart as hell, but they seem to like the sound of nails on a chalkboard, so you can’t give them too much credit—and find yourself behind the two supersoldiers. You poke the brunet’s bicep.

His bored face lights up at the sight of you.

“Y/N!”

“Hey, Bucky? Want to go play Monopoly?”

His reply was instantaneous. “Yes, absolutely. I’d love to play Monopoly with you. Bye Steve.”

“Bucky no—“

Bucky takes your hand and you’re around the corner before Steve can finish.  

“You’re the best, Y/N,” he says, and the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings to the rhythm of his words. “I was dying in there.”

“I know the feeling.”

An hour later, you’re losing. Badly. Despite being from the 40s, Bucky is annoyingly good at real estate.  You count forward three spots and land on Boardwalk, one of his properties. Slowly, hoping he’s not paying attention, you move your piece four spots, bypassing the danger of triple hotels.

“No, no, that’s four, not three!”

“Did I roll a three?”

“You did.”

You cover the die nonchalantly.  “No, I didn’t.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, and suddenly it’s a war, he’s trying to pull your hand up, and you’re trying to keep it down.  To nobody’s surprise, he wins, and the number three is revealed.

“Mwahaha,” he grabs at the last of your pitiful money pile, throwing the coloured bills up in the air. “You’re bankrupt!”

The floor-to-ceiling windows around you show the stars, twinkling magnificently bright in the clear night sky. But Bucky’s singing We Are The Champions and he’s messing up the lyrics and he’s completely off-key and you’re positive it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Third; your ears are tuned to his voice. You could pick him out in a sea of thousands. His voice makes pretty singers who sing pretty songs sound dull. His voice makes everything else ugly.

Bucky’s eyes should be a crayon colour, you decide.  

He has a habit. Whenever anyone says something ridiculous, Bucky looks to you like you’re the camera in The Office. And when they say a ridiculous paragraph, he widens his eyes in disbelief, pursing his lips to avoid cracking a smile. This happens a lot when Steve’s feeling particularly adventurous. It’s in these moments where time seems to slow, and you wish it would stop completely so you can study his eyes longer. Bucky has a myriad of blue that swirls to create a whirlpool of taunting winks and irritated smirks.  The wrinkled smile lines and long, dark eyelashes accentuate it perfectly.

After all, if you email Crayola, you better have a description.

Your favourite shade is when he scrunches them up from laughing.  They’re so blue they literally glow, as if they repel light instead of absorbing it.  You’re rooted to your spot when this happens.  Like you’re on a ship, and those eyes, blue like an ocean sea, are begging you to set sail with them, to cast your doubts away and leave the mainland behind.  

You’re writing this fantasy into your journal when you realize how deep you are: you’re not on the ship anymore.  

Fourth; the color of his eyes is blue enough to drown in.  He is turning you into a cliched love-wrecked being. You’re drowning, always sinking. Down, down, down.

Screaming wakes you from sleep.  Throwing off your covers, you don’t have to follow the heartbreaking sounds to know they are coming from Bucky’s room.  When you knock, you find that the door opens at your touch.

“Bucky?”

Bucky is thrashing in his bed, the covers pushed down at his feet, the sheets underneath him dark.  Your eyes rake over his anguished face; he’s sweating, and fighting some sort of invisible monster. Recently you’ve been helping him with his nightmares and you can tell, it’s a bad one tonight.  

You climb onto the mattress and nudge him gently. “Bucky, wake up.”  Nothing happens, so you shake him harder then duck as his metal fist flies at your head. It hits the wall with a sickening crunch, and this is what wakes Bucky up.  He sits up, gasping.

“Y/N? Oh my god.” He reaches out like he wants to lift you up from your flattened position, but before he does, he sees the dent in the wall and recoils.  The anguish turns to horror, and you can’t tell which one is worse.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You take his hands from behind his back and intertwine your fingers. You push his chin up so he meets your eyes.

“I’m okay, don’t worry.”

“I nearly hurt you.”

“The key word here is nearly,” you soothe, “Let’s get you into new clothes.”

You slip over to his wardrobe and open his drawers to find another shirt.  When you turn around, Bucky’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands.

He’s in pain, and you feel it too.  You are also angry, angry at the world, because they victimized him; angry at Hydra, because they caused Bucky to feel this way. You want to track down each and every person who hurt him and rip them apart in increasingly creative ways, but you settle for collecting Bucky in your arms and wiping away his tears.  

During your nights with him he’s confided in you the process of getting over his guilt and the fears that still haunt him.  It didn’t happen right away, oh no, it took time to show him you would stay no matter what.  Knowing Bucky, truly, bad and good, past and present, it could never push you away. Nothing could. You’re here for the long haul.

You’re lying on your back when he calms enough to fall asleep.  Bucky’s torso is on top of yours, hugging you, and his face is angled so you can feel his breaths on your skin; you’re satisfied when you confirm they’re even. Playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, you glare at the ceiling like it’s going to come attack Bucky too.

“No more. Don’t try anything.  Or else you have me to deal with,” you growl to the world.

You’ll fiercely protect this man with everything you have, with every word, every muscle, every breath. Adjusting your hold on his back, you match your exhales to Bucky’s and drift off, mentally making a note to take him to the zoo soon.  He loves feeding the penguins.

Fifth; you know him. You love him. Through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d find him. You’d never leave. You love him. Till death do you part.

Bucky wakes to a rhythmic beating sound.  

Opening his eyes, he sees he’s lying on you, over your heart, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards. Bucky recalls last night. Not the nightmare, no, because you chased it away—he remembers you.  You being here for him, you saying the words of affirmation he so badly needed to hear to calm down, they further solidified the place he had carved for you to be forever in his life. He was so nervous and scared that you’d leave once you saw what he was capable of, but you stayed, and here you are.

On an impulse, he kisses your temple and you smile in your sleep. You’re so beautiful, he thinks.

Bucky watches your eyes move under their lids, and he wonders of what you’re dreaming. Hopefully it’s something good. You deserve it; you deserve the world, in his mind.

The sun is not yet up, so he relaxes again. He’s so comfortable and you’re so lovely, Bucky never wants to move. Your heart, with every beat, pumps into him more peace, and more clarity.

Bucky’s sure of one thing. It’s the one thing you don’t know.

Sixth; he loves you, too.


{insp}


still new, still small, still really love you all

@fxckmebuck @buckyywiththegoodhair @avengerofyourheart @bovaria@wndas-romanoff@thejamesoldier @caplanbuckybarnes @papi-chulo-bucky @buckybarnesismypreciousplum@redgillan  @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @langinator @secondstartotheright-imagines

move like you want | (m)

Originally posted by heavenly-minds

pairing: kim taehyung x reader
genre/warnings: smut, explicit descriptions of sex, fingering, oral, dirty talk
words: 7,960
summary: where you meet the gaze of an incredibly attractive red head at a music bar and one thing leads to another…

Keep reading

the best thing he never had ; one

one , two , three

pairing; jungkook x reader

genre; best friend!au 

word count; 3.7k 

a/n; for @elicuh​ ! a wonderful human bean who requested this ! this will most likely be a mini series,,, idk i don’t plan ahead lol 

summary; in this story, you have known your best friend for more than 15 years and you were utterly and wholly in love with him



The city lights became more visible as the bright neon colours had contrasted from the darkening, moonlit sky as you felt yourself become more wide awake as you walked down the streets of the bright city that lit up the mood whether be day or night. Your legs were carrying you from your house in pajamas and a warm leather jacket wrapping you up as you had just awakened from a rather nice sleep that you were enjoying until a certain someone had rung you in the midst of your slumber.

But as always, you could never say no to that certain someone as you had gone through many lengths for him that this particular situation was just a nub on a stick.

Keep reading

Somebody’s Baby

Originally posted by dean-sam-winchesterbros

I was listening to the radio on the way to work the other day and this song came on, inspiring this little Dean x Reader ficlet. Enjoy!

“Hey, Barry. Check out this little miss.”

The middle-aged man nudged the man at the bar counter next to him. Barry turned to see a young woman in the doorway, looking around, as unsure as they had seen anyone in a while. Stepping just inside the doorway, she took her mobile from her purse and dialed a number.

“Dean,” Barry said, “check out this girl. Bet you take her home tonight.”

But Dean was on the phone, not paying attention. Barry rolled his eyes and turned back to the woman at the door. She was looking around again, still on the phone. Neither of the two older men could quite focus on where their conversation had trailed off before this woman had caught their attention.

She took a few more tentative steps into the bar, still on the phone and searching around for the person she was presumably meeting.

Barry punched Dean in the shoulder. “You don’t get off the phone, you’re gonna miss a helluva shot, Winchester.”

But Dean just held up a hand and turned his back to the two older men. They just rolled their eyes and turned their attention back to the woman.

“Damn,” the first man said, shaking his head as she ended her phone call and made way for the bar with purpose. “She must be somebody’s baby.”

Dean finally turned around, and smiled at the approaching woman. As you headed in his direction, Dean held out his arm and slipped it around your waist. He kissed you lightly, then helped you onto the barstool next to him.

Before giving you his full attention, Dean turned back to Barry and the other man. “You’re right, boys. She is somebody’s baby – mine.”

You grinned at Dean, kissing him again while the bartender retrieved your drink.

@mylifeforthelore

headcanon time!

these two snuggle like they’re playing monster tetris or something - mostly because they both overwork themselves, so when they do finally collapse just about any position is comfortable. grillby snores. a lot. but it sort of sounds like a crackling fireplace so gaster finds himself lulled to sleep by it instead of being awoken by it. added bonus of having a cuddle mate that has no skin is grillby doesn’t have to worry about making gaster uncomfortably warm in the middle of the night, so they tend to stay extremely close together all night long. they take comfort in feeling each others’ presence.

Third Love Part Two

Originally posted by geezerwench

Originally posted by shamelessturkey

Part One

This is the last part.

Text in bold is flashbacks. Thank you for your patience with this one, I hope you guys enjoy it xxx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He watched the door slam shut behind you and he turned to the wall.
“Fuck!” Jax yelled and clenched his fist.
He pounded it against the wall, over and over.
The white paint slowly turned red as his knuckles bled but he didn’t stop, not yet.
After a few more hits Jax stepped back and ran his hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face with his good hand.
He stretched out his fist but ignored the burning pain in his knuckles and he glared at the bloodied hole in the wall.
He knew he should have ran after you, tried to make you see sense. But he had never seen you so mad before and he knew he deserved it.
Honesty. Respect. That was all you ever asked for.
You didn’t care about the things he did for the club, the club secrets he had to keep from you. You didn’t care that he barely took you on dates. You didn’t care that he had a son to another woman. You didn’t care that he was a criminal, an outlaw. You didn’t care about the late nights or the lonely ones.
You didn’t ask him to stay home with you, didn’t nag him or need to know every detail about his days or things with the club.
All you had ever asked of him was that when it came to your relationship, he was honest with you.
And he hadn’t been.
Jax knew he should have told you Tara was back the day she had turned up at the clubhouse.
But his head had been a mess and he needed time to work out what this all meant.
It was like a ghost had walked back into his life.
He never thought he’d see her again after she left and when she’d walked through those doors he felt like a teenager again, and all those feelings he had once had came flooding back to him.
He should have told you what happened, how he was feeling, but hell he didn’t even know how he felt.
Jax leant against the wall and stared at the shattered glass and splatters of whiskey on the floor.
The kitchen was a mess and it seemed fitting to mess inside his head. He needed to make sense of these feelings, of these thoughts that were taking control.
He needed to leave, needed to get out of this empty house.
He turned and walked out the door, heading for his bike.
A long ride was what he needed to clear his head.
~
Laughter left your lips and you wiped the counter thoroughly.
“I’m serious! He turned up in a denim suit. A juit.” Cassie said.
You laughed again and shook your head.
For a month now you had been working with Cassie at the diner and almost everyday she had a new story to tell you about her disastrous love life and the many bad dates she’d had that left a smile on your face.
The bell above the door chimed and you glanced at the entrance.
Three men entered, all in leather and all ridiculously attractive.
You watched them walk casually into the diner and slide into a booth by the window, near the back.
“Hellooo handsome.” Cassie said beneath her breath and you smiled and winked at her.
“Shotgun.” You said and grabbed a notebook and slid it into your apron pocket.
Before she could argue you stepped out from behind the counter and approached the table.
There was a tall one, wearing a slouched beanie and a full beard. A younger looking guy, with a shaved Mohawk and tribal tattooes on his skull. And a blonde, with long blonde hair and blue eyes.
“Welcome to Daisy’s Diner, what can I get for you this mornin?”
The guys glanced up at your approach and you smiled warmly to each of them.
“Just coffee, thanks.” The one with the beard smiled.
You nodded.
“Anything else? The cherry pies real nice.”
“I bet it is.” The blonde said with a wink and a smirk and you tried to ignore his eyes looking you up and down.
You smirked back and met his eye.
“I’ll grab a slice.” He said.
You scribbled the order in your notebook.
“Won’t be long.” You smiled sweetly, making sure to flutter your eyelashes and headed back to the counter.
You could feel their eyes watching you as you walked and you made sure to sway your hips a little more than normal.
“Thoughts?” Cassie whispered once you were behind the counter.
“The one in the beanie’s married. No rings on the other two though.” You reported.
She nodded and bit her lip.
“I call dibs on the Mohawk.”
You laughed and quickly got the order ready.
A phone rang out and you glanced at the table and saw the blonde answer a call.
You grabbed the pot of coffee and the plate of pie and headed towards the table.
When you were almost there the three men stood and the blonde turned towards you.
“We gotta go, sorry darlin’.”
“Sorry for wasting my pie or for staring at my ass earlier?” You asked.
He raised his eye brows and smirked.
“Oh I ain’t sorry for that darlin.“
You laughed and he flashed you a wink before turning and following the others out of the diner.

~
The sound of birds chirping woke him and he squinted at the bright sun shining down on him.
For a moment he was confused at his surroundings but they slowly familiarised around him.
Jax always ended up here when times were tough, or when he needed to clear his head.
Some people found cemeteries eerie, creepy and uncomfortable. But Jax found them peaceful, and he seeked comfort sitting in front of his fathers grave.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes, wincing at the pain that tore through his fist.
Slowly he stood and stretched his body, already aching from sleeping on the hard ground.
Jax walked slowly to the garden tap that he’d used to wash his face many times before.
After freshening up Jax headed for his bike.
He had left his phone at home last night and so he had no idea what the time was.
As he walked to his bike he contemplated whether or not he should head home.
You would be there and he knew you’d still be mad, and with every right.
He knew he needed to face you, to explain himself.
But he needed to freshen up first.
Jax swung his leg over his bike and brought it to life. He would go to the clubhouse, freshen up in the dorms and head home. Hell he might even buy some flowers on the way.
~
“Same again?”
“Please,” You smiled at the bartender.
He smiled back and turned to get your drinks ready.
Cassie had managed to convince you to come out with her and she had dragged you to one of the local bars.
Sitting next to her, you were like chalk and cheese.
She sat with her perfectly straightened hair, perfectly applied make up, tight red dress and six inch heels.
And then, there was you. Ripped black jeans, combat boots, Guns ‘n’ Roses tshirt and your hair pulled into a rough high ponytail.
The only make up you wore was a perfect flick of black eyeliner on your upper lid.
But somehow the two of you got on like a house on fire, despite the differences in your personalities.
The bartender passed you your drink and you thanked him before taking a sip.
You were putting the glass back on the bar when you felt a presence next to you and you turned towards the newcomer.
“Hey cherry pie.”
You smirked at the blonde biker, instantly recognising him from the other day in the diner.
“Hey stranger.” You purred.
“Hey I’m Cassie.” Your friend interrupted.
He glanced at her and smiled before introducing himself as Jax and introducing his friend, ‘Juice’.
You chatted for a while, well flirted mostly, before Cassie dragged you away to dance.
Almost an hour had passed and you knew they were watching when you heard a new song start.
The music was familiar to you and you laughed and turned towards the bar, where a smirking Jax watched with a playful hint in his eyes.
“She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water such a sweet surprise.”
The song played, Warrants ‘Cherry Pie.’
Jax raised his eyebrow, challenging you.
You don’t know what came over you but you flashed him a wink before stepping on a stool and climbing on top of the closest table.
And from across the bar, Jax watched as you swung your hair and swayed your hips to the music. His eyes were focused on you and with each move you made, the rest of the world fell away.

~
Jax pulled into the lot and parked in his usual spot along the row of bikes.
The garage was still shut and he frowned slightly.
Perhaps it was earlier in the day than he had first thought.
He hopped off his bike and placed his helmet on the handlebars before heading towards the clubhouse entrance.
He had only taken a few steps when the doors flew open and Gemma and Chibs came running out.
“Where have you been?!” Gemma demanded.
Jax ran his hand through his hair as he walked closer.
After the night he’d had, the last thing he needed was a lecture from his mother.
“Look, mom-“
“Dont worry about it, Jackie boy. Theres been an accident.” Chibs interrupted.
Jax froze and glanced between them, his face filling with concern.
“Its (y/n), Jax.”
His heart dropped.
“Is she..?” His words fell off, unable to bring himself to finish the question.
“Shes in intensive care.”
Jax nodded and stepped backwards before he turned and headed for his bike.
Gemma and Chibs called after him but he ignored their voices.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and no matter how hard he tried his legs couldn’t carry him any faster.
His body went into auto-pilot and he yanked on his helmet, the bike roaring to life beneath him while his mind raced.
Gemma and Chibs moved past him in a blur as he pulled the bike out of his spot and sped out of the lot.
He didn’t bother looking for cars, didn’t bother stopping at the red lights.
He didn’t bother with the speed limit as he weaved his bike in between the oncoming cars.
All he knew was that you needed him.
Eventually he stopped in front of the hospital and he stopped his bike and leapt off it, letting his helmet drop to the pavement beside him.
Jax ran up the steps, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.
The woman behind the desk glanced up as he ran through the doors.
“(y/n) (y/l/n), where is she?!”
~
You always hummed when you cooked and this morning was no exception.
Jax leant against the doorway, a smile on his face as he watched you work.
You rummaged in the drawer for a whisk before whipping the batter in the bowl.
“Whats cooking good lookin?”
You turned and saw Jax watching you and laughed lightly.
“Pancakes.” You smiled.
He grinned and walked into the kitchen and took you by the waist.
He laid his chin on your shoulder and watched you whisk the mixture.
“With blueberries?” He asked.
“And bacon.” You answered.
“God I love you.”
You laughed and moved his hands from his waist.
“Sit down, it wont be long.”
He obeyed and took a seat at the table.
He could get used to this, waking up to you cooking in the kitchen, naked beneath his SAMCRO shirt and your hair hanging loosely.
It was a sight he could never get sick of.
You quickly got the breakfast together and plated before carrying it to the table.
Jax let out a whistle as you placed the dish in front of him and you smiled before taking your seat.
You both ate in contempt silence, enjoying each others company.
After eating You cleared the table and Jax had a smoke.
You were washing the dishes when you felt his hands creep around your waist once more and you leant into him.
“Thank you.” He whispered in your ear.
“I might have a shower,” He told you. “Why don’t you join me?”
You chuckled. “Ive already showered.”
Jax raised his eyebrows and dipped his hands into the sink.
He cupped his hands, letting them fill with the soapy water before splashing you with it.
You gasped and squealed.
“Jax!”
He laughed and splashed you again.
Before you knew it, you were both soaked, covered in bubbles and sliding around the kitchen floor.
You splashed him once more and he pulled you into his arms.
“I love you.” He said.
You smiled and looked into those blue eyes.
“I love you too, Jax.”

~
Jax ran down the corridor and pushed through the door the lady had directed him to.
When he entered the room he froze in his steps at the sight of you.
Lying there, in the hospital bed. There was a bandage wrapped around your head, you had a black eye and your lips were swollen, along with multiple grazes along your cheek.
Your arm was in a cast and you lay there so.. peaceful.
Jax stepped closer slowly and his legs carried him to the seat next to your bed.
He sunk into the seat and his eyes brimmed with tears.
You needed him, and he hadn’t been there.
How long had you been like this?
The doctor said you were in a coma, and although you were stable he had said the damage was extensive, and there was a chance you may not pull through.
Jax grabbed your hand gently and squeezed it.
He couldn’t bring himself to pull his eyes away from your face.
“Im so sorry, (y/n).” He whispered.
He should have followed you, he should have been there. He should have protected you.
Seeing you lying here like this was killing him and you looked so.. broken.
Tears ran down his cheeks and all he could do was apologise.
A door opened behind him but he didn’t turn.
He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently, praying that you would open your eyes.
But you didnt.
“Jax?”
He turned and when he saw Tara standing at the end of the bed anger rose within him.
Gently, he placed your hand back on the bed and he stood.
“What are you doing here?”
Tara blinked rapidly and reached for his hands but he snatched them away.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She said. “I thought you might need me.”
Jax grimaced.
“What I need, is for my girlfriend to open her eyes.”
“Jax I-“
“Why did you come back, Tara?” He snarled.
“For you, Jax. I came back for you.”
Jax scoffed and shook his head but before he could reply she continued speaking.
“I got my degree, Jax. I have a job,a house. I have everything Ive ever wanted. Everything except you.”
“Its too late Tara. Im with Y/N now. She’s my old lady.”
“I have your crow.” She argued.
Jax clenched his fists and moved closer, hovering over her now.
“Yeah? Well you’re not an old lady. You should have got it removed when you left.”
~
The clubhouse was quiet, and for the number of people inside it was unusual.
The moment Gemma had called you you had dropped everything and headed over.
You had known Jax was getting home from Stockton today, but you weren’t expecting him for another few hours and you weren’t expecting the bad news that came with him. Opie was gone.
Grief hung in the air and the whole atmosphere of the clubhouse had changed.
Your heart was in your throat as you moved, searching desperately around the familiar faces, searching only for one.
“He’s in his dorm, lass.” You heard from behind you.
You turned and saw Chibs, his head hung low and a haunting pain in his eyes.
You reached up and hugged him tightly. You hadn’t seen him since he’d gone inside and you weren’t sure if it was prison or the events that had occurred that made him seem older somehow, haunted. He hugged you back, his arms embracing you and you pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting him go.
Of course, all of them were hurting, but Jax was the only thing on your mind and you desperately needed to find him.
Chibs squeezed your hand and you headed to the dorms.
It was funny, how suddenly a place could feel different after something so tragic.
The hallway felt so.. empty. Eerie, almost. Like it knew something, or someone was missing.
Your feet carried you to Jax’s dorm and you didn’t bother knocking.
He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed and staring at the blank wall in front of him.
He didn’t look up when you entered but you ran to him and sank to your knees beside him before pulling him into you.
He didn’t need you to say anything, just you being there was enough and he began to sob uncontrollably into your chest.
You stroked his hair slowly, letting his tears soak through your shirt.
“He was my best friend.” Jax whispered against you, his voice broken and full of sadness.
“I know baby, I know.”

~
“Jax we can make this work, we can-“
“No!” He yelled.
Taras eyes widened and she stepped back from him.
“How dare you come here.” He snarled. His fists
clenched and he trembled with anger, both with Tara and himself.
He turned away from her and stood at the end of the end of the hospital bed. His hands grasped the bed frame tightly, making his knuckles burn.
Guilt ran through his veins as he looked at your broken body.
After a moment of silence Tara stepped forward and Jax felt her hand lay on his shoulder.
“I’m your first love, Jackson.”
Jax took a deep breath and clenched his jaw before he turned back towards her.
“Your right.”
She smiled with relief.
“You were my first love Tara. But she is my last. You are my past, and she is my future.”
Tara opened her mouth, unable to find the words. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned abruptly and left, letting the door close behind her.
Jax sighed and ran a hand over his face.
God, he felt sick with guilt and he couldn’t help but blame himself for what had happened to you.
He should never have let you leave, he should have chased after you. He should never had made you so mad to begin with.
For a moment he considered following Tara. Not to be with her, he had meant what he said. But seeing you lay in this hospital bed had him thinking if maybe you would be better off without him. You were a good woman, with a kind heart and he knew you deserved a love that Jax wasn’t sure he could give you.
He had no doubt in his mind that he loved you, with all he had left in the ashen remains of his heart. But he had always had doubts that he was good enough for you.
It was because of him that you had ended up in here after all. If it hadn’t been for him you would be fine, walking around and laughing like normal.
Jax walked to the edge of the bed and gently lifted your hand once more.
Your skin was soft and fragile and he sighed as he held it gently in his rough hands.
Maybe it was selfish of him, and maybe you deserved better. But he knew he couldn’t walk away, couldn’t let you go. You meant too much to him.
He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your skin softly.
“Please wake up, (y/n). I need you.”
~
Jax slung his arm over your shoulder and you squeezed his waist.
His lips pressed against your hair as he kissed your head and you smiled up at him once he pulled away.
You had spent all day helping Gemma clean up the clubhouse after another wild party and despite having a godawful hangover it had actually been enjoyable.
Cleaning wasn’t your favourite pastime but you didn’t hate it either, and you liked spending time with Gemma.
She was terrifying, of course, in her usual Gemma Teller way but you both seemed to get along despite the fact you were dating her son.
And she was grateful for your help.
The croweaters had been there too to help but cleaning wasn’t exactly their specialty, especially when they were hung over.
Finally though, the boys had returned from their club business that had kept them away for most of the day and you were happy to see Jax walk back through the doors.
He led you outside for a well deserved break and you perched on the edge of the picnic table while he lit up a ciggarette.
“Thankyou for helping out today babe.” Jax said after blowing out a cloud of smoke.
“Anytime,” You smiled at him. “Although I’m kinda scarred after cleaning Tigs mess.”
Jax chuckled before taking another drag.
A car pulled into the lot and you both looked up.
Wendy got out of the drivers side and waved to you both before getting Abel out of his car seat.
“(Y/n)!” The little blonde yelled as soon as his feet hit the pavement.
Abel ran towards you and you hopped off the table and knelt with your arms open.
He ran into them and you smiled as you squeezed him tight.
You lifted him and held him on your hip and Jax pressed a kiss to his sons forehead.
“Can we play on the swings?” Abel asked eagerly.
“I guess so.” You sighed playfully before tickling him.
He giggled loudly and you smiled at Wendy once more before carrying Abel to the swing set.
“He’s been asking about (y/n) all week.” Wendy said.
Jax nodded, a proud smile on his face as he watched you playing with his son.
“So is she your old lady yet or what?”
He raised his eyebrows, an amused look on his face as he looked at his ex.
“You gonna give me relationship advice darlin?”
Wendy rolled her eyes.
“She’s a good girl, Jax. She’ll make a good old lady, better than I ever was.”
They both watched as you pushed Abel on the swing and his laughter echoed through the lot.
“Look all I’m saying is don’t screw things up with her. She’s good for you. She’s good for him.”

~
Three days had passed without any changes.
The doctors had said your condition seemed to be improving however you were still in a coma and Jax was growing more impatient with every passing day.
He had spent every minute by your bedside, only leaving to freshen up, but never for more than ten minutes.
The room was filled with balloons and the scent of fresh flowers, mainly from Gemma.
The guilt never left him and every minute you spent in this coma Jax seemed to blame himself more.
The nurses had told him to talk to you, that you could hear him.
At first he had been uncomfortable, unsure of what to say to someone who couldn’t answer back.
He’d started with apologies, before telling you about his plans for the club.
He’d just finished telling you a story about how the guys had hid a bunch of dolls in their rooms to stop Tig from snooping when he stopped talking mid sentence.
Your eyes had fluttered, he was sure of it.
“Babe? Come on wake up.”
You stirred, your eyes flickering open for a moment and your fingers twitched slightly.
A wide smiled spread over his face and he squeezed your hand gently.
Ever so slowly, the room began to focus around you.
You squinted your eyes, gradually taking in your surroundings before you focused on Jax, sitting teary eyed by your bed.
“You look like shit.” You told him, your voice slightly raspy.
Jax laughed lightly and a tear rolled down his cheek.
He didn’t doubt your words, he’d barely slept in three days.
“How are you feeling?” Jax asked.
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“Il get a nurse.”
“No, Jax wait. I-”
“I’m so sorry, (y/n).” Jax interrupted. “I should have told you. I don’t wanna lose you, darlin. You mean everything to me and I-”
“It’s okay Jax.” You told him.
He stopped and looked at you, the blues of his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
His face was filled with guilt and you smiled softly.
“I love you, Jackson. And I trust you. It’s okay.”
Jax stood and hovered over the bed. His fingers reached oh and gently room hold of your chin.
He pressed his lips against yours softly, too scared of hurting you. You kissed him back and you didn’t notice the tear that escaped you and rolled down your cheek.
“Marry me.” Jax whispered as he pulled his lips away.
“What?!”
“Marry me.” He grinned. “I love you, (y/n). Almost losing you made me realise how much I need you. I want to spend my life with you. Marry me.”
You rated at him, your mouth slightly open.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes!”
You both grinned at each other, your eyes damp with tears of joy and this time when he kissed you you swore you could taste the rest of your life on his lips.
Minutes passed and eventually he pulled away and sat back in the chair, his hands holding yours softly.
“Jax?”
“Yes, mrs Teller?”
You grinned. “Is Tig really that scared of dolls?”