You’re a bartender at the pub the boys frequent. It’s close enough to base and has good prices for beer, plus their pool tables aren’t all ripped up like the bar closest to base.
You’re younger, trying to get your feet out under you. The boys show up intermittently, but enough that you start learning their orders and names. Eventually you learn they’re in the military, hence their unreliable schedules.
They think you’re cute. Polite, sweet, sometimes you even give them a free beer if your manager isn’t looking. What really gets you brownie points is one day they come in after a rough mission on their own soil. A bombing in London they were unable to prevent. What the general public didn’t know was there was supposed to be 4 more bombs—those they did stop. Still, whenever lives are lost they get a little low.
So they slink into the pub more solemnly than normal, find their usual seats near the back and huddle up tightly. Like they don’t want anyone to get into their group.
You’ve seen the news. Heard about what happened, knew about the military presence there to stop it. Based on their demeanors it’s not hard to deduce they were in the brunt of it.
So when the incident comes on the TV, you’re quick to switch the channel. Apparently not quick enough, because some other drunken asshole you’ve had problems with in the past already got a look at it and is now raging.
“Bloody useless,” he slurs, barely able to keep himself up in his chair, “cannae comprehend how my taxes are goin’ to support these useless motherfuckers! What’s the point if they cannae prevent our own bloody people from dying? If I—“
You cut him off. “Sir, you’re entitled to your own opinion, but we’re not entitled to hearing whatever bullshit you’ve conjured up. Quiet down or I will have you removed.”
Your eyes flicker to the boys in the back. It’s not just that they’ve begun to grow on you, but you know that whatever happened in London they did their best to prevent it. They’re probably already punishing themselves enough if the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed today is any indicator.
They seem to have heard the exchange which…isn’t ideal. You’d prefer if they hadn’t needed to hear any of that. Still, you get sent a couple nods and that makes you glad you intervened.
After that they are definetly more aware of your presence. You had been their bartender for a while now, but now they had a respect for you beyond what they offered to just anyone.
So when they’re once again tucked into their corner and notice a ruckus involving you, they’re immediately paying attention.
You normally stayed behind the bar, of course you were the bartender, but also to avoid situations like this. They were unfortunately far too common.
Still, one of your beloved regulars had broken his leg, so you told him to sit down and you’d bring him his drink. Which was fine, until you passed a particularly rowdy table who thought it was a good idea to smack your ass as you passed.
You flip around, prepared to rip him a new one when you hear the loud screech of chairs being pushed out rapidly, followed by the bang of them falling on the floor.
You turn to look only to find your ragtag band of military regulars moving with an intimidating speed toward the douchebag. They had apparently witnessed the spectacle and decided they were going to respond. You weren’t even their target but you were still about ready to shit your pants at the look of them.
The one they called Ghost who always wore a half skull mask and eyeliner had a glare on his face that spelled danger. Their captain was leading the charge with large strides and clenched fists like he was ready to throw down. Kyle and Johnny who were usually incredibly sweet to you sported a different energy, looking less likely to sweet-talk and more likely to crush someone’s skull.
All plans of yelling (and maybe slapping) this man went out the window, because now you were more concerned about preventing a murder in the establishment. That would not be good for business.
They were on you in no time. John grabbed your waist and simply picked you up and plopped you to the side with a, “‘scuse me, sweet’eart.” Opening the way for Ghost to grab this guy by the collar and lift him off his feet. They didn’t stop, simply sweeping this guy out of the establishment. The door swung open and cold air blew in. Only then did you begin to comprehend what just happened. The speed at which they responded to your crisis was honestly astonishing, and the fact that they had the forethought to deal with this outside was gracious. Still…you were incredibly curious.
You followed their path and took a peak outside, only to find what you assume was the last of the blows he received. Simon was holding the guy by his arms, he seemed to have taken several punches, and was now met with John’s finger in his face. John was presumably lecturing (threatening) him. The moment Simon let him go he scrambled away. You…didn’t know how to feel about that. Violence on your behalf.
When they came back in, John patted you on the shoulder and gave you his eye-scrunching smile. “He won’t be botherin’ you again, love.”
You just nodded dazed as they went back to their seats like nothing happened.
It definetly sent a message, though. People were far less inclined to mess with you after that.
simon ghost riley works as a bouncer in the local town club, a small place notable for its signs that are barely blinking in the dark of the night, a type of shebang for its own people, making money from stable patrons, most often ordinary alcoholics and crowds of crazy teenagers who only look like adults, but in fact are not, although he should not care, he's here only for particularly serious cases of beatings or worse, sometimes even so that the cops called to the scene forget why they're here.
to stand on a damp street, sinewy back leaning against a cold brick wall very close to the main door, and people still get frightened of him every time, especially late at midnights, when only the silhouette of a skull on a balaclava and bottomless charcoal eyes are watching them from the corner, even the blonde eyelashes that frame his eyes oddly delicately do not help, but somehow he got used to it, learned to be amused by every squeak and gasp he received, both women and men reacting the same.
the job has its advantages, he could eat snacks from the bar in immeasurable quantities, because, one way or another, not many could refuse him, as well as allow himself a couple of sips of not at all cheap bourbon, but most of all he liked you, a cute, pretty little bartender, dressed to attract the eye not only with those tricks with drinks, but also with your revealing appearance, because of which simon more than once pulled all sorts of tipsy perverts away from you by the scruff of their neck, atlough he himself was no better than a dog.
you're just a doll, seriously, pouring into his glass despite the fact that you've already received a warning from your superiors, giggle sweetly at his old fashioned army humor, put your soft palm on his strong biceps in fits of laughter, thinking that simon doesn't notice that you're doing this only to him, grow sheepish when he ogles brazenly at the deep neckline of your cleavage in this work top, after he had drunk a little too much and no longer hides a slight grin on his thin, nicked lips, damn, you even flutter close to ask him if everything is okay when he smashes his knuckles on the face of another asshole.
and you also let him pound your soppy little cunt in the club's dingy storage room, squelching wet and needy around the jerking, veiny girth of his cock, pulsing walls gripping tight at the fat tip as his broad, scarred hips withdraw back, thrusts turning choppy as he forces himself deeper, knocking choking keens out of your drooling mouth, calloused thumb pulling harsh at your lower lip, making your jaw go more lax, opening up for his spit and gurgling when he bends to smear it all over your mouth palate and teeth with his own tongue, your shaking hands curling into the stretched fabric of his shirt on the ample chest.
there's advantages for sure, because there's nothing better than watching you try to work while his cooling cum drips between your legs and down their length, throwing offended angry glances simon's way and shuddering when he catches you passing by, wide palm smoothing over the clothed swell of your ass with a teasing grope, reminding that your slick drenched panties are now stuffed in the pocket of his cargos, lacy fabric barely peeking out, and this may well be considered a bonus for good work this week.
Hiii!! How about Reader is a bartender and the team goes to the bar for drinks. Reader is trying to hide how she's oggling Hotch but eventually blurts out something like "I'm sorry, but it should be illegal to look this good. Can you stop being hot for a minute, cause I keep messing up drink oders?" Or something like that? Thank youuuu
Order up | [A.H]
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bartender fem!reader | WC: 1.8k | CW: Alcohol, bar setting.
A/N: I fear half of this was written in a state of fever last night, so hopefully it's coherent 😅
The bar pulsed with the chaos of a Friday night, of every Friday night, glasses clinking, laughter bubbling up from clusters of office workers, bachelorette parties, and regulars engaging in idle conversations about the game currently playing on the screen.
Neon signs flickered against the brick walls, casting a warm glow over the bar counter where you'd been stationed since your shift kicked off at six.
Your feet throbbed at this point, and your arms burned from the endless shake-stir-pour cycle, but you kept that practiced smile locked in place. You were used to it at this point. Plus, tips were good on nights like this, and a little charm went a long way toward padding your pockets.
You wiped down a spill from a spilled beer, chatting with a regular about the latest baseball scores, when the door swung open with a whoosh of cool night air. And in walked a group that immediately commanded attention, not rowdy college kids or tipsy couples, but a tight-knit crew that moved with the confidence of officials. They were suits, mostly, though a few had shed jackets in deference to the bar's much more casual vibe than theirs.
You pegged them right away as feds, or something close, maybe detectives, politicians even; the way they scanned the room wasn't predatory, but assessing, like they cataloged exits and faces without thinking twice.
And leading the pack, or at least anchoring the center, was him. You'd seen his face on the news once or twice, or at least reckoned that was why he seemed so familiar. It had been some big case. FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, you vaguely remembered, and this one was the one with the unyielding jaw and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through the cameras.
In person, he was even more magnetic, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark suit hugging his frame like it was tailored for intimidation—which it probably was. His hair was neatly combed, a few strands escaping in that effortlessly disheveled way, and when he glanced toward the bar, those intense brown eyes locked on yours for a split second. Your stomach did a traitorous flip, and you nearly fumbled the cocktail shaker in your hand.
"Earth to Star Command," your coworker muttered as she bumped your hip, sliding past with a tray of empties. She followed your gaze and smirked. "Hot stuff at eleven o'clock. Don't drool on the ice, yeah?"
"Shut up," you hissed, heat flooding your cheeks as you busied yourself with restocking lemons. But it was no use. The team claimed a high-top table near the back, close enough that you could hear snippets of their banter. The blonde woman ordered first, a simple vodka soda with lime. And as you made your way down the line, taking orders, you couldn't help but steal glances at the man practically demanding your attention since he had entered your bar.
And then it was his turn. He leaned back in his chair, watching the exchange between you and his team with that calm authority he exuded, before murmuring, "Scotch, neat. Thanks."
Your pen scratched across the notepad, but your mind was elsewhere, trapped on the way his sleeves strained against his forearms as he gestured, or how his voice carried that low, gravelly timbre that vibrated right through you. Focus! You turned, heading back behind the counter to mix the drinks, but your eyes betrayed you, darting back every few seconds. He was listening to the one with glasses rattle off some statistic about bar fights, a faint quirk at the corner of his mouth.
The first screw-up came with the blonde one's drink: you squeezed lemon instead of lime, handing it over with an apologetic grin. "Oops, my bad! Here, let me fix that."
"No worries," she said kindly, her eyes twinkling like she knew exactly why your brain had short-circuited.
The charming one's whiskey? You had stirred it absentmindedly, earning a raised eyebrow from him when he took a sip. "Sweetheart, this tastes like it's been on vacation in the tropics. You good?"
"Peachy!" you lied, flashing a thumbs-up while your cheeks burned. Inside, you were screaming. Get it together. He's just a guy. A ridiculously hot, brooding, federal agent guy who probably profiled people like you for fun.
But then he shifted, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves just enough to reveal the taut muscles of his forearms, veins tracing lines that screamed you straight in the face.
He was laughing, actually laughing, at something the black haired woman had said, a deep, rumbling sound that cut through the bar's din and landed square in your chest. Your hands froze mid-shake of the fruity monstrosity, pink liquid sloshing over the rim.
(A/N: I'm gonna use the team's names from this point, even though reader doesn't know the names. I just can't be assed to keep finding ways to describe the team without saying their names at this point.)
By the time you delivered his scotch, the table was eyeing you with varying degrees of amusement. Reid was mid-explanation about probability errors in high-stress environments, ironic, much? And the others were stifling grins. You set the glass down in front of him, careful not to meet those eyes, but he looked up anyway, his gaze steady and warm, like he saw right through your flustered facade.
It was too much. The words tumbled out before you could stop them, loud enough to halt the conversation at the table. "I'm sorry," you blurted, gripping the edge of your tray like a lifeline, "but it should honestly be illegal to look that good. Can you stop being hot for, like, one minute? Because I keep messing up drink orders, and it's all your fault."
Dead silence blanketed the table for a heartbeat, the kind that echoes in your bones. Then chaos erupted. Reid nearly choked on his ginger ale, sputtering into a coughing fit while Penelope whooped with delight, clapping her hands. JJ buried her face in her palm, shoulders shaking with laughter, and Emily leaned back with a wicked grin. "Oh, honey, I like you already."
Morgan slapped the table, booming, "Boss, you gotta own that one. The lady's got taste!"
You stood there, mortified, wishing for a trapdoor or spontaneous invisibility. Your face was on fire, and you braced for the shutdown, the polite deflection from a man like Hotch, who probably dealt with overzealous admirers on the daily.
Instead, his lips curved, just the faintest hint of a smirk, but it lit up his whole face, softening those sharp edges. His eyes held yours, with a spark of something playful lurking beneath. "I'll... try to tone it down," he said, his voice low and even, laced with dry humor that sent a shiver down your spine. He lifted his glass in a subtle toast, the smirk deepening just a fraction. "Thanks for the drink."
The table dissolved into more laughter, the tension shattering like ice in a shaker. You mumbled something incoherent, an apology wrapped in a laugh, and bolted back to the bar, heart pounding as if you'd just run a marathon. Your colleague was waiting, eyes wide. "Did you just tell a freaking FBI agent he's too hot for you to function? Iconic!"
"Kill me now," you groaned, burying your face in your hands. But even as you replayed the humiliation, a thrill buzzed under your skin. He'd smiled. At you.
The night dragged on in a haze of redemption orders, fixed drinks, extra garnishes to smooth over the mishaps, and stolen glances. The team settled into easy conversation and stories of cases veiled in vagueness. Hotch was quieter, but when he spoke, everyone listened. And every so often, you'd catch him watching you, not staring, just a flick of his gaze over the rim of his glass, warm and assessing, like he was piecing together your profile: the bartender with the quick wit and quicker blush.
As the clock ticked toward closing, the crowd thinned to stragglers nursing last calls. The team began to wrap up, jackets shrugged on, hugs exchanged. Morgan clapped Hotch on the shoulder with a teasing, "Don't forget what she said, Hotch, dial back the smolder." Emily shot you a conspiratorial wink as she passed the bar, whispering, "Figure out a smoother recovery next time. Or don't, he looked like he didn't mind."
You waved them off with a laugh, relief washing over you as the door swung shut behind the group. Finally, peace.
Except... footsteps approached the bar again. You looked up, and there he was, lingering with his empty tumbler in hand, the others gone into the night.
He slid the glass across the counter. Up close, without the team's buffer, he was even more imposing, and intoxicating. The faint scent of his cologne, woodsy and clean, mingled with the bar's lingering haze of citrus and liquor.
"Sorry about earlier," you said quickly, before he could open his mouth. "That was wildly unprofessional. Blame the late hour... or the full moon. Whatever."
His expression didn't shift to judgment; if anything, his eyes softened, crinkles forming at the corners like he was holding back a real smile. "No apology necessary. Honesty is refreshing." He paused, leaning one elbow on the counter, closing the distance just enough to make the air feel electric. "In my line of work, people don't often say what's on their mind. Not like that."
You swallowed, fingers twisting a bar towel before swinging it over your shoulder. "Well, it wasn't exactly poetic. More like... word vomit."
A low chuckle escaped him. "Poetic or not, it worked." He straightened slightly, but his gaze stayed locked on yours. "For the record, you turned a rough week into something memorable. Thank you."
Your breath caught. "I... you're welcome? I mean, glad I could help. Even if it was by embarrassing myself."
That smirk returned, subtle devastation in the curve of his mouth. "You didn't embarrass yourself. Far from it." He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, but instead of just settling the tab, he slid a folded bill under the glass, a tip that was more than generous. Tucked beneath it was a business card, crisp and official, with his name and number scrawled in neat ink on the back.
The implication hung there, unspoken but electric. Call me. Or don't. But you could.
"Goodnight," he said softly, reading your name from your badge without a glance. His voice wrapped around it like velvet.
"Night, agent," you managed, the title feeling bold on your tongue.
He nodded, his smirk lingering as he turned toward the door. The bell jingled softly behind him, leaving you staring at the card, heart hammering a rhythm that echoed long after the bar emptied.
Your colleague locked up with a grin an hour later, but you were already lost in replays, the laugh, the look, the promise of more. Haunting your dreams? Understatement of the year.
This was the start of something that could unravel you entirely. And damn if you weren't ready for it.
omg i NEEED one mulled wine with stripper!mattheo!
love yaaa
𐔌 🍷 — mulled wine ⋆˙⟡ 𐦯
› male stripper!mattheo x bartender!reader
› dining table
having the same schedule as your stripper roommate could be seen as both a blessing and a curse. a curse because sometimes, you’d both come home at the ass crack of dawn, tired and huffy, and would annoy each other to no end until both of you finally went to bed. a blessing… well, because nights like that also existed—when both of you were too hyper after a particularly lively night at the club and would end up fucking like rabbits on (or against) any random surface.
the dining table in your shared apartment was already worn and creaky, and the fact that mattheo was plowing into you from behind on top of it didn’t help. your nails were digging into the plywood, adding to the numerous indents in the cheap material. all in all, the treatment of furniture in your place was far from perfect, but you hardly cared—not when mattheo’s cock stretched you out so good, hitting all the right spots that made you forget about failing to reach the tip goal you set for your work shift.
“been dreaming of pussy all night.”
despite your back being turned to him, you could hear the smirk in mattheo’s voice—only he could so nonchalantly talk while railing you stupid. you knew he was looking down between your bodies, watching his glistening condom-wrapped cock slide in and out of your cunt; he loved when it shone, coated in lube and your sloppy juices.
“had a vip with a bachelorette party,” he continued to the sound of your moans and skin slapping skin, as if it was just another casual conversation. “horny as fuck, those ones. pretty sure the bride was gonna suck me off, but their time ended just about.”
despite the pleasure building up rapidly in your belly, you chuckled. “so what, i’m your fleshlight now? i’m not gonna suck your dick, matt.”
“eh, don’t need to,” mattheo brushed you off, snapping his hips forward so hard the table shifted forward underneath you. “pussy’s just fine.”
all the words you have left to give
michael robinavitch x gn!bartender!reader pt. 1: first meet
— as a bartender, you've seen it all. the odd, the insecure, the poor souls who walk in through your doors and walk out drunker than all get out. you've never once expected much out of it; you did not expect friendships, or a relationship for that matter. but then one dr. michael robinavitch walks through your life and you wonder if there's more to meet the eye than what the poor sad doctor shows.
word count: 2k words
a/n: i have an idea but it may take a few posts/parts to get it all out. i introduce to you: robby x bartender!reader. bartender!reader has an ex-fiancé named piers colfield (sorry if that is somehow your name. i will never recover if it is. please forgive me). will post parts here and on ao3. :) also pls ignore me trying out new formats again. there's just so much happening on here.
you'd first noticed him toward the end of the bar. a little off-kilter, most definitely only there to get away from whatever demons were chasing him. his shoulders held so tense you couldn't help but wonder if the man ever had any kind of stress relief. so, you did what any bartender would do. you talked.
"what's on your mind, stranger?"
those were the first real words you spoke to him. you ignored the fact you'd asked him earlier what he wanted to drink. this was the first time you were really talking to him.
stranger. you swear you'd seen him somewhere before. he looked so familiar and yet all recognition left as soon as he acknowledged you.
he looked up from his whiskey, eyeing you warily. but after a moment, the realization that you were just being nice hitting him, he let out a hefty sigh. it wasn't without reluctance that he spoke.
"nothing much," he simply said.
"bullshit," you retorted, unable to hide your smile as you dried off a clean glass and sat it where it belonged. "you've got sad eyes, mister. i'd be a fool not to catch them."
oh, hell, diving right in, huh?
"ah, don't do that," he said, shaking his head. a hand brushed against his forehead, before said hand waved off your words. "don't call me mister."
"yeah? then what should i call you?" you asked with palpable care in your words, tossing down your bar towel as you looked right at him.
"robby works."
"alright then, robby," you said, nodding in understanding. you looked to his nearly empty glass. "need a refill?"
"if you wouldn't mind."
"not at all. it's my job."
you picked up his favorite whiskey (he'd told you just a moment before he'd ordered the first time), filling his glass halfway. he'd ordered off the rocks, which fair if you really wanted the buzz, but you kept an eye on him. he'd never been to your bar before (or at least, not when you've been on duty; maybe ilya or tomás had served him before—then again, you were here most often than not, being that this was your main source of income).
"you come here often?" you asked, curiously getting the better of you. usually once the bar-goers had a drink or two, they were all words and spewing them at that.
he raised a brow. "no." his glass tilted in hand, swirling the liquid around, before he took a sip of it. "no, i've not been here before."
ah. so your assumption was right. it was nice, sometimes, knowing things before anyone said it. it wasn't really a parlor trick, more of a, i've worked here for so long it just happened kind of trick.
"what brings you out here tonight?"
god, if you would've had more customers, you would've paid attention to them. but it was nearly 9 pm on a tuesday, and many of your regulars were nowhere to be seen.
"you're awfully nosy, huh?" he hummed, dark brown eyes finding yours over the rim of his glass.
those eyes went right through you.
you gave a soft smile. "sure," you said, shrugging. "i'll leave you be. i'm just right here if you need someone to talk to, though. here all night, really.”
he was silent in return, but the small smile he gave showed you hadn’t been too nosy.
you left him to his own devices, serving a few randoms and a regular, tom, who had come in straggling the hour. said regular was all blubber and disregard, and you cut him off after one drink, calling a cab just for him (he’d enough pocket change to get home, thank god). tom knew not to mess around—he knew you’d put him in his place in an instant, if need be. he must've been out drinking again, kicked from one bar to the next. poor guy. it was sad, if you really wanted to divulge into the ineptitude of the man.
tom did, however, before the cab came along, look to the newcomer and eye him warily.
tom leaned forward on the countertop, getting as close to you as he possibly could before he whispered in a not-so-quiet manner: “he’s a doctor!”
your eyes flicker to the man only to find his eyes already on you. a small smile found your face but you looked to tom, shaking your head.
“keep it to yourself, tom. no one needs to know his business.”
“but—“ tom insisted, quick to stop at the crass glare you give him. “fine.” the older man slouched in his seat, burying his face in his hands as he waited for his cab.
“drink this while you’re waiting,” you said, sitting a glass of water in front of him.
his nose scrunched at the sight of it. “what is it?”
“another drink. just one for the road.”
“is it free?”
“of course, tom. your last drink is always free.”
he downed the drink in one go, tastebuds failing to register the neutral drink finding its way down his gullet.
the only other employee, a busboy/waiter/host (he’d received so many titles you started calling him a jack of all trades), came to the bar.
“cab’s here,” he said, hitting the countertop with two quick pats.
“thanks, nate.”
“no problem. need help getting out, tom?”
tom waved him off and climbed down from his seat, throwing down a few bills to pay for the only real drink he’d been given. he waved to you, glared at the doctor, and left for his cab waiting just behind the confines of the darkened joint.
nate mumbled a quick, “going on break,” to which you, of course, accepted gracefully. you could handle a crowd, if it were to happen. however, as of now, it seemed rather unlikely.
you took tom’s money and cleaned up his mess. you made your way toward your whiskey drinker, putting the cash away in the register.
“want any more, dr. robby?”
“not unless it’s free.”
an instant smile appeared. “the only thing free is water.”
“water?”
“yeah,” you let out a laugh. “tom’s a drunk, so it’s pretty easy to convince him to drink water by the time he gets here. he’d do anything for free.”
his lips purse together and he finished off his whiskey. the glass hit the countertop with a click, a bit louder than he expected.
“shit. sorry,” he said.
“you’re alright,” you said. “sure you’re done?”
“i think i could go for a water.”
you took his glass, grinning all the while. so, dr. robby traded out his whiskey glass for a tall glass of water.
the crowd was still nonexistent. seemed like it, anyway. you could risk a conversation with him.
"so what do you do for work? was tom right?" you asked, arms crossed over your chest, hip pressed against the counter as you leaned back, admiring him. you couldn't help it. he was a handsome man, years of hard work evident in the lines on his face. dark brown eyes that warmed you from the inside out, piecing together a feeling you'd long since left behind.
he raised a curious brow. "really?"
"yeah, really," you returned. "tom seemed to know who you were, so humor me, dr. robby. medical doctor or doctor of philosophy?"
"medical doctor."
you perked up a bit at that. medical doctor. he may know... no. no, he wouldn't, would he?
"where at? you nearby?"
"not too far, no," he said, shaking his head. "the pitt."
your breath caught in your throat, palms growing clammy as you kept a steady gaze on the man. oh, shit. oh shit. oh shit oh shit oh—
"you're at the trauma center?" your voice was steady and cool. you thanked whatever was out there listening that you could still do that—sound like you weren't about to lose your godforsaken mind.
he nodded, sipping at his water. "yeah."
the meat of your cheek caught between your teeth. he would know him. surer than hell. fucking piers. why did it even matter?
"you know about it, then?" he asked, sitting his glass down. his arms moved to rest against the counter, fingers laced together as he leaned forward, eyeing you curiously. "the pitt, that is."
"yeah. i know of it. know it's a hell of a time, too."
"oh?"
"yeah, you wouldn't believe how many complainers run through here acting like they've been persecuted by god himself. not your fault you've got like, what, minimal funding at best?"
brown eyes stayed glued to yours. he let out a soft hum, tilting his head as he did so. he was trying to figure you out. did he know you? for whatever reason, you weren't exactly striking him as familiar. hell, this was the first time he'd ever come to this bar (he just needed something different—anything different than the same things over and over again).
he'd be back again. he liked the sound of your voice.
robby pulled out his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill. he handed it to you, to which you took with furrowed brows.
"you done?"
"yeah, i should probably head home. no rest for the wicked."
"tell me about it," you said, snorting softly. "let me get you some change."
"no, it's okay," he said, standing up and finally coming to his full height. he shot you a soft smile. "keep it. thanks for listening to me."
"again, it's my job, but it's not like i had much to listen to," you retorted, putting aside the change that would've been left for his tab. you'd either keep it for him if he came in again, or you'd use it for another cab (or two) for a few stragglers who came in spouting they were about to drive home drunk.
he shrugged. "could say that, but i'm sure i'll be back."
your eyes flickered up to his. you tried to hide your soft smile. "i'll be counting the hours, dr. robby."
"please. just robby."
"alright then, just robby. have a good night."
a tense smile, a nod of the head, and then dr. robby was gone.
immediately after the door was shut, you let out a loud groan, burying your face in your hands. of fucking course.
your job afforded you to meet so, so many people. so many people that seemed to interesting, thousands of stories walked through your doors on a week-to-week basis. every now and then, you found your curiosity getting the better of you. that's where piers came in, a few years ago. and of course, of fucking course, piers worked in the same damned hospital as dr. robby. that's why you recognized him. had he recognized you in any way?
piers was just a phlebotomist, most likely floating to whatever floor they needed him, but damn, there was no questioning it.
last you'd been around the hospital was nearly a year ago, after piers deciding to go and fuck everything up by cheating and getting the woman pregnant—girl, really, only just having turned twenty-one. piers could eat your shoe and then some.
asshole.
a voice piped up from across the bar. "you good?" nate. he was a good kid. er, was he even a kid? damn, you didn't even know. he looked like he was younger, but then again, you may not be the best judge of age given that some people said they were far younger than your initial assumption.
you took in a deep breath and looked up, smiling in his direction. "yeah. i'm good."
he raised a brow. "you're a shit liar."
you nodded, lips pursed. "yeah. thanks for that one."
"no problem."
well, what's done is done. if dr. robby showed back up, then maybe you'd humor yourself. but until then, these glasses weren't about to wash themselves. you got to work, your focus quickly taking precedence, the noise of your mind turning to a mumble instead of a full on shouting match.
When Ghost enters through the door you are the first thing he notices. The bar is dimly lit and crowded. The buzz of many loud conversations filling the air. The heat having smacked in to him the second he entered. His eyes fell on you through a gap between heads. You, at the bar. A shaker in hand, messy hair tucked behind your ears. A smile on your face as you chat with a customer. You're in a well worn tee, the way it fits you makes it clear why.
Johnny leads the way to the bar and he is the first one of them you see. His mohawk sticking out from the rest of the crowd. The smile on his face could be seen from a mile away.
"I'll be with you in a sec", you say to him before serving the previous customer. Pouring their drink before sliding the card reader their way.
"Now, what can I get you fellas?" You turn to them. Eyes scanning over their faces. Lingering on Ghost's masked one for just a second longer. That extra second is what did it in for him. What captured him if he hadn't been before. His eyes didn't leave you for a second. Even as you talked to the others. As you poured the four pints they'd ordered. Nor after they had sat down at a table. You were oblivious to it and that might have been for the best. Having a tall, masked man staring at you might have been reason enough to call security.
The rest of his task force, on the other hand, were not as oblivious. Price noticed first. Though he didn't mention it. It was rare for his lieutenant to be so entranced by someone. It was an amusing sight he would undoubtedly talk to him about at a later time. Gaz noticed second, but he was still too sober to say it out loud. Soap did not need any alcohol in his system to tease him. Ghost, the stoic lieutenant who had turned down women time after time, suddenly infatuated with a bartender of all people.
Ghost managed to dodge Soaps teasing by ordering the next round. Not without a few smiles and quiet comments for his teammates. But they fell on deaf ears. Simon was to busy thinking. What should he say to you? How should he say it? Should he lean on the bar? Nah, that just screams dickhead.
You see him approach. You recognise the mask from earlier. You smile at him, he just stares.
"Another", you ask him. He nods. You made it easy for him. His eyes trace your every move. From you hand on the glass to the one of the lever. Your focused eyes as you pour it.
"Add it to the tab", you ask as you slide the four glasses over too him. He nods as he picks them up. Your "enjoy" follows him as he walks back to the table. You combined with beer on tap, he might need to become one of your new regulars.
Authors note:
Just trying something new. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts! /Polt🌻
✮ WELCOME TO & INTRODUCING THE “ SHUT UP MY MOM’S CALLING “ MASTERLIST
synopsis: in which, two strangers with a complicated history meet again, and one is so sure he’s gonna get it right this time, and the other can’t far enough away, scared to be hurt by him again.
✮ JUST WANNA REWIND, HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN A LONG TIME [ MOODBOARDS & CHARACTER INTROS ]
✮ BARTENDER!READER !
✮ LOCAL BASSIST!MATT STURNIOLO !
✮ YOU GOT ME FEELIN’ SO LONELY [ TABLE OF CONTENTS ]
quick disc: each chapter will have a song title it beside, and each song is relevant to the chapter. UPDATES WILL BE SLOW !
✮ CHAPTER 0.01 [ CUPID’S CHOKEHOLD ]
✮ SO, BABY, BRING IT IN CLOSELY [ EXTRAS ]
✮ how hotel ugly started [ blurb ]
✮ when did matt start playing the bass [ blurb ]
✮ their first interaction after years apart [ blurb ]
✮ nate & chris’ roles in hotel ugly & why y/n is a bartender [ blurb ]
✮ their fav drinks [ blurb ]
✮ the meaning behind “ hotel ugly “ [ blurb ]
✮ hotel ugly’s overall vibe [ blurb ]
✮ the most recent update on what they’re up to [ blurb ]
✮ the singer, which bars they’re popular at, and the reader’s nickname [ blurb ]
Ooo hii can I please request a Max x fem! Reader where she’s a waitress or bar tender in the fancy hotel that max and sandra are doing their first con on that rich man. While Sandra is starting that con at the bar, another guy keeps bothering Y/n and maybe throws his drink at her and Max steps in and stands up for her and he ends up conning that man too in retaliation 🥺 He comes back later and tips Y/n a lot of money (with the money he conned from the man that harassed her, she doesn’t know that though) and he becomes a regular at this hotel bar/restaurant and eventually asks her out on a date. She doesn’t know he’s a conman until they start getting serious and he tells her, she’s mad at first that he lied and that he’s a criminal but she loves him so much that she wants to forgive him, she just needs reassurance that he is not just conning her, she’s worried their whole relationship is just a big con🥺
Would Never Do That To You » Max Burnett
Pairings: Max Burnett x Bartender!Female Reader
Summary: Max steps in and stands up for you when a guy at the hotel bar you work at won’t stop bothering you and then he becomes a regular and later he asks you out. Although, you can’t help but wonder if he’s going to con you too, but he assures you that he’ll never do that.
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, alcohol, customer bothering reader and throws drink at her, punching, tiny bit of blood, slapping, crying, kissing, pet names
A/N: @kpopgirlbtssvt thank you for the lovely request🩵
Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes
Header made by my friend🩵 / divider made by me
GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator
Max and Sandra are about to do a con on a rich man at the hotel bar you work as a bartender at. As they you were tending to customers and wiping down the bar, there was one guy who kept bothering you. He has a drink. You’re not sure what he could possibly want.
“Hey, lady!” The guy keeps calling out.
You sighed to yourself before going over to the guy for the twentieth time in ten minutes it feels like.
“Yes, sir. What can I get you?” You asked politely.
“For starters, you can get me another drink.” The guy says, shaking an empty glass in your face.
It took everything in you to not snatch it, but you’re going to be the bigger person. Someone had to be.
“Coming right up.” You say.
You went back to the bar and got him another drink and took it to him.
“Would you like anything else?” You asked.
“No.” He says.
As you were about to walk away and go back to work, the guy grabs your wrist.
“Let go of me.” You say.
“No, I don’t think I will.” He says.
You used all of your strength to yank your wrist out of his hand, which worked. You didn’t like the look on his face after you did that. He looked like he was going to beat your ass or worse. He grabs the glass and throws his drink in your face. You gasped loudly and looked down at your shirt that’s not wet with alcohol. You ran off to the bathroom to clean up and dry off.
“Get me another drink while you’re at it!” The guy shouts at you.
Max saw everything. He felt bad for you. He told Sandra to go ahead and do the con without him and he’ll catch up with her. He walks over to the guy who’s been bothering you since he got there. He taps on his shoulder to get his attention.
“What the hell do you want?” The man asks, sounding annoyed.
Max didn’t say a word. He just punches the guy in his face, giving him a bloody nose.
“What the hell, man?!” The guy exclaims, holding his bloody nose.
“You think it’s ok to treat a woman like that?” Max asks.
“She was being lazy.” The guy says.
“She was not. She was doing her job and being attentive to the customers here. You had no right to throw your drink at her.” Max says.
“She deserved it.” The guy says.
“No, she didn’t it.” Max says.
The guy goes to say something else, but he groans in pain instead.
“I think you broke my nose!” The guy said.
“Be lucky that I didn’t knock your teeth out, which is what I’ll do if you bother that woman again.” Max says.
“Are you threatening me?” The guy asks.
“No. Consider it a warning. Now, get the hell out of here before I change my mind and knock your teeth out right now.” Max says.
The guy scoffs and goes to a different area of hotel that’s not the bar or his hotel room. Max saw the room key to the guy’s hotel room on the floor. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. He grins as an idea popped into his head as he walked away. First, he wants to check on you. He went to the bathroom you’re in. He could hear you crying before he knocked on the bathroom door.
“Ma’am, are you ok?” Max asks through the door after knocking on it.
“I’m fine.” You say, your voice cracking.
“Can I come in?” He asks.
You took a look around the bathroom to make sure there was no other women in it before answering him.
“Yes.” You say.
Max opens the door and walks over to you. Your eyes are red from crying and your shirt is wet with alcohol.
“I saw what happened. I wanted to make sure you’re ok.” Max says softly.
“I’m fine.” You say again.
“Are you sure?” He asks.
“Yes. You’re so sweet for checking on me.” You say.
Max gives you a smile and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Max says.
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? After all, I’m the bartender and you’re the customer.” You say with a smile.
“You looked like you needed a friend.” He says.
“You’re so sweet.” You say.
Max gives you another smile before walking towards the bathroom door. He stops and turns around before opening the door.
“My name is Max, by the way.” Max introduces himself.
“My name is Y/N.” You introduced yourself.
“It’s nice to meet you.” He says.
“You too.” You smiled.
Max left the bathroom and went to the elevator. He looked at the room key to the guy’s hotel room, grinning to himself again. Max found the guy’s hotel room, using the key to unlock it. He walks into the room and goes to the guy’s bag. He goes through it, finding $5,000 in it. He took all of it, putting the money in his pocket. He tossed the hotel key on the bed to make it look like that the guy left his key in his hotel room. Then he caught up with Sandra.
“I was wondering when you were going to catch up with me.” Sandra says.
“I wanted to check on the bartender that asshole threw his drink at.” Max says.
“Is she ok?” She asks.
“She says she is, but she looked upset. She was cleaning up in the bathroom when I checked on her.” He says.
“I hope she’s ok. She seems like a nice person.” She says.
“Me too.” He says.
Max and Sandra continued on with their con and then went back to the hotel bar. You were back behind the bar when they went back to their seats. Actually, Max went over to the bar to give you a tip. A tip meaning, some of that guy’s money.
“I wanted to give you a tip.” Max says, getting the guys money out of his pocket.
“You don’t have to. Your kindness is a tip enough.” You say.
“I want to. Besides, you deserve it after what happened a little bit ago.” He says.
Max counts out some money and gives half of it to you. You counted it and gasped softly.
“This is $2,500.” You say.
“Like I said, you deserve it. You’re a hard worker.” He says.
You two smiled at each other as he walked back to his table. As a thank you, you got both him and Sandra a drink and took it to them.
“These are on the house and a thank you for checking on me a little bit ago.” You say.
“Thank you.” Both of them say.
“You’re welcome.” You say.
You gave Max another smile as you walked back to the bar.
That wasn’t the last time you saw Max. You saw him a lot after that night. He became a regular and keeps giving you big tips. He comes by the hotel day and night.
“There’s my favorite bartender.” Max greets you as he sits down at the bar counter.
“There’s my favorite customer.” You greeted him with a smile.
You got his usual drink and placed it on the bar counter in front of him.
“How is my favorite customer today?” You asked.
“I’m doing good. How are you?” He asks.
“I’m doing good. My day brightened up when you walked in.” You smiled.
“Mine too.” He smiles back.
Max is the sweetest man you’ve ever met. Your day always brightens up when you see him. He tips you big tips like he did the night he met you. You always tell him that he doesn’t have to do that, but he wants to. He thinks you deserve it, in which you do. You’re a hard worker after all.
“You look beautiful today.” Max compliments.
“Even in my work uniform?” You asked.
“Yes.” He says.
“Well, thank you.” You smiled. “You look handsome today as well.” You complimented.
“Thank you, but you and I both know that you’re the one who has all of the beauty.” He says.
“How about we agree to disagree?” You say.
“I’m fine with that.” He says.
You got Max another drink after he finished his first one. You also got him something to eat.
“I thought you might be hungry. I got you my favorite.” You say, placing a plate that has a burger and fries on it.
“Well, aren’t you sweet.” Max says.
“I’m just returning the favor like you did for me the other night.” You smiled.
“Someone had to stand up to that asshole for you.” He says.
“I’m glad you did. Thank you again for doing that.” You say.
“Anytime, sweetheart.” He says.
The more Max comes by to visit you at work, the more flirty he gets. He always compliments you. He knows exactly how to make you smile and blush. Today, he’s going to ask you out on a date.
“How about I take you out on a date?” Max says.
“I like the sound of that. My day off is Saturday.” You say.
“Great. It’s a date. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.” He says.
“It’s a date.” You smiled.
When Saturday night finally came, Max arrived at your house at 7pm on the dot. He showed up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
“You’re so sweet.” You smiled, kissing his cheek.
“I thought you might like them.” Max says.
“I do like them.” You say.
You put the bouquet of flowers in a vase of water and then you and him went on yours and his first date.
“Where are we going?” You curiously asked.
“That’s for me to know and for you to be surprised.” Max says.
“Whatever it is, I bet it’s going to be amazing.” You say.
“It is.” He says.
Max took you to a fancy restaurant for yours and his first date and it indeed surprised you. You loved everything about your date with Max, especially how much of a gentleman he was all night. You think he’s just the sweetest man alive. You and him got to know each other on the date, except that he didn’t tell you that he’s a con man. He knows he should tell you the truth, but he doesn’t want you to leave him. Even though it’s still early into yours and his relationship, you two definitely felt a spark. You two felt that spark the first time you guys met the other night. After the date, Max walked you to the door of your house like a gentleman.
“I had an amazing time tonight.” You say.
“So did I.” Max says.
You and Max quickly got lost in each other’s eyes. He brings a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing it. His other hand rests on your waist. Then he leans in and kisses you softly and passionately. The kiss took yours and his breath away.
“Goodnight.” Max almost whispers.
“Goodnight.” You almost whispered.
You and Max had huge smiles on yours and his faces the rest of the night. The dates didn’t stop there. You guys go out on dates every Saturday night. Not only that, he spoils you by buying you flowers and jewelry, which you think is so sweet. He even surprises you with little presents when you’re at work too.
“What’s in the bag?” You curiously asked.
“Why don’t you come here and find out.” Max says flirtatiously.
You walked out from behind the bar and walked over to Max. You opened the bag and saw a long velvet box. You took it out of the bag and opened it, gasping softly when you saw a beautiful gold necklace.
“Max, this is beautiful.” You say softly.
“It’ll look even more beautiful on you.” He says softly.
Max takes the necklace out of the long velvet box and puts it around your neck.
“This is my way of asking you to be my girlfriend.” He says.
“Really?” You asked.
“Only if you want to be.” He says.
You smiled widely and kissed him softly and passionately. Max smiles against your lips and he took that kiss as a yes.
“Does that mean we’re official now?” He curiously asks.
“Yes.” You say softly, kissing him again.
Months go by since you and Max made it official. Everything is going great between you and him. He spoils you more now than he did before. He also still visits you at work and you two go on dates every weekend. You live with him now too.
Today, Max was supposed to visit you at work, but something came up. He texted you and told you that he can’t visit you at work today, which you completely understand, but he didn’t tell you what came up. What came up was something that has to do with a con that he has to discuss with Madeline. She was still there when you got off of work. You two stared at each other after you walked into yours and Max’s apartment.
“Who are you?” Madeline asks rudely.
“I’m Y/N. I’m Max’s girlfriend.” You say.
Madeline laughs out loud, which made you furrow your eyebrows.
“What’s so funny?” You asked confused.
“You saying that you’re Max’s girlfriend.” She says.
“I am.” You say.
“No, you’re not. He would’ve said something about having a girlfriend.” She says.
Max kept you away from cons. He didn’t want you to find out or get hurt in anyway. Now, the truth has to come out.
“She is my girlfriend, Madeline.” Max says.
“Does she know about you being a con man?” Madeline asks.
“Con man? Baby, what’s she talking about?” You asked confused.
“Oops. That’s my cue to leave.” She says.
As Madeline was leaving, she stopped in the doorway.
“Your relationship with Max isn’t going to last long. It’s only a matter of time until he takes your money and leaves you.” Madeline says.
“Get the hell out of here!” Max yells at her.
Madeline chuckles and closes the door.
“Please tell me what she said isn’t true, Max.” You say.
“Part of it is true.” Max says.
“Which part? That you’re a con man or that you’re going to take my money and leave me?” You asked.
“I am a con man.” He says.
Your eyes teared up. You weren’t sure what to saw now. You thought that everything was going great with you and Max, but apparently, he left out a detail about what kind of job he has. You went to yours and his bedroom to pack a bag. Max followed you.
“Baby, wait. Where are you going?” Max asks.
“I can’t stay with you tonight.” You say.
“Please let me explain.” He says, gently grabbing ahold of your arm.
You yanked your arm out of his hand and slapped his across his face.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” You almost growled.
Max takes a few steps back, giving you some space.
“How could you do this to me? You had all this time to tell me, but instead, I had to find out from that woman!” You say, tears streaming down your face.
“I’m sorry.” He apologizes.
“Save your apologies. I don’t want to hear it right now.” You say.
You picked up your bag and left yours and his apartment. Max feels nothing but guilt and anger right now. He never meant to keep something like this from you and upset you.
“God damn it!” Max shouts.
You got a room at the hotel you work at. You stayed there for a few days. Max has blown up your phone with calls, voicemails, and texts, but you didn’t answer a single one. You kept ignoring him. The only way to get you to talk to him is him showing up at the hotel, which is what he exact did.
“Hi, baby.” Max greets you softly.
“I’m working, Max.” You say, not making eye contact with him.
“I know. All I need is 5 minutes. Please.” He says.
You inhaled deeply and gave in. You took him to your hotel room so you and him can talk privately.
“Talk.” You say, cracking your arms over your chest.
“I am so sorry, baby. I should’ve told you about me being a con man. I just didn’t want you to leave me or you to get hurt. I’m scared of losing you. Please believe me when I say how sorry I am.” Max says softly and sincerely.
“I thought everything with us was going great, but I guess I was wrong.” You say.
“Everything is going great with us.” He says.
“It’s not when you don’t tell me everything. We don’t keep secrets from each other, Max.” You say.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. Please forgive me.” He says.
“I do forgive you, Max.” You say.
Max smiles and walks closer to you to kiss you, but you backed away from him, which confused him. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’s going to con you and leave you.
“I’m going to ask you a question and I want your honest answer.” You say.
“Ok.” Max says, wondering what you’re going to ask him.
“Are you going to con me and leave me?” You asked.
“No, of course not. I would never do that to you. I love you too much to do that.” He answers honestly, assuring you.
“Are you sure? That woman seemed pretty damn sure of it.” You say.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m not going to con you and leave you, baby. I promise. Madeline only said that to get under your skin.” He says.
“Ok. That’s all I wanted to hear.” You say.
His assurances made you feel better. This time when Max walked towards you, you didn’t back away from him. He kisses you passionately.
“I missed you so much.” Max says softly.
“I missed you too.” You say just as softly.
“Does this mean you’re coming home?” He asks.
“Yes.” You smiled.
Max smiles and kisses you softly.
“I have a question to ask you too.” Max says.
“What is it?” You curiously asked.
Max takes a small velvet box out of his pocket and gets down on one knee. You gasped when he opened the small velvet box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.
“I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you more than anything. Will you marry me?” Max asks.
“Yes!” You happily answered.
Max smiles and slides the ring on your finger. He stands back up and kisses you passionately. You two smiled against each other’s lips.
“I love you so much, baby.” He says softly.
“I love you too, sweetie.” You say softly.
Even though you and Max had a bump in yours and his relationship, you and him still wouldn’t trade it for the world. You two love each other more than anything and that’s all that matters.
