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stargazer-sims · 2 years

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Journal Entry #46 (part two)

previously - Journal Entry #46 (part one)

Yuri

Yesterday wasn’t perfect, but I’m happy to report that it was a little easier than Thursday. And if you'll pardon me for metaphorically patting myself on the back, I must say I'm rather proud of myself for improving our day by coming up with solutions to two of our biggest challenges.

In the wee hours of the morning, while Victor lay with his head on a pillow in my lap, and I was staring blankly at an infomercial on TV, it suddenly came to me how I was going to get some nourishment into him. The infomercial was for an allegedly fabulous juice machine that was supposed to help people improve their health, and I think that's what sparked the idea. Honestly, though, it was so obvious that I don't know why I didn't think of it without being prompted by some terribly over-scripted television advertising.

We have our own juice machine.

Victor uses it all the time to make drinks for himself with hemp and kale and spinach and Watcher alone knows what other assorted grains and foul-tasting green vegetables. They look disgusting, but he says they're packed with nutrients. He also uses it to make drinks for me; ones with berries, carrots, apples, peaches or bananas, that taste sweet and delicious and that have more pleasant and appetizing colours like pink or orange. He usually mixes my juice with coconut water, soy yogurt and protein powder, creating a smoothie out of it. Sometimes, one of Victor's protein smoothies is the only food I can tolerate in a day, especially when I'm really ill.

So, when the sun finally came up, and I was feeling hungry myself, I eased my husband's head off my lap and headed for the kitchen to concoct the best smoothie I could. We didn't have a lot of fruit — I realized I'd have to go grocery shopping soon — but we did have apples and blueberries. Those, with yogurt and protein powder, made a nice pinkish-purple drink that I hoped would be as appealing to Victor as it was to me. I mixed some maple syrup into his, and a pinch of cinnamon into mine.

I have two big tumblers with lids, which Victor jokingly calls my 'sippy cups'. To be fair, they do look like extra-large versions of toddler cups, so the nickname is justified. My favourite one is clear with a delicate purple, pink and white floral design. The other one is translucent turquoise with an ocean motif. They're ideal for when I'm too ill to get out of bed because they're less likely to spill, and they're made of plastic, so if my hands are shaking too much and I accidentally drop one of them, it's not going to shatter and make a huge mess.

With an outsized sippy cup in each hand, I made my way back to the sitting room. Victor was awake, and he was tracking my movement with his eyes, although I'm not sure he could see exactly what I was doing as I set the cups on the table.

"What were you up to in the kitchen?" he asked.

"Making breakfast," I told him.

He frowned slightly. "I'm not hungry."

I crossed my arms and glared at him, exasperated by his response. His ongoing refusal to eat was nothing but pure stubbornness on his part, and we both knew it. I was tired, and I absolutely did not want us to have another night like last night, and I knew I wouldn't feel the least bit guilty if I had to boss him around a little to get the result we both needed.

"Victor Thomas Edward Nelson, don't you dare tell me you're not hungry when you haven't eaten a solid meal in a week," I said, feigning more annoyance than I actually felt, for effect. "I hope you know I touched food for you, so you'd better make an effort to try it, at least."

To my utter surprise, he laughed. "Are you trying to sound like my mother?"

Flustered by his unexpected reaction, I stammered, "No. It's just... you can't not be hungry. You're always hungry. I'm worried about you not eating, and... I don't know. Last night was awful, and we can’t go through that again. It's too much..." I had to stop at that point, because my throat was starting to feel tight.

"I'm sorry," Victor said.

"I want you to eat. Please."

"What did you make?"

"I made you a smoothie. I put it in one of the sippy cups, so you shouldn't need me to help you with it."

"Okay," he said. "And what about you? Did you make yourself one?"

"Yeah."

"Good. You need to eat too. You put protein powder in it, right?"

"I did," I said. "In yours as well. I thought you could use it."

"Thanks."

I helped him sit up, and then I passed his smoothie to him. The casts make it so he can't bend his wrists or first set of knuckles, and it looked a little funny to see him clasping the cup between both hands and raising it to his mouth like a toddler would do, but I was too grateful to be amused for long.

His first swallow was tentative, but then he gulped several mouthfuls before pausing for breath again.

"Like it?" I inquired.

"Yeah," he said. "It's good."

"Take your time with it. You don't have to finish it all in one go."

"I'm gonna finish it, and I, uh... I'm probably gonna want another one," he said sheepishly. "Sorry. I guess I really was hungry after all."

"I knew you were," I said.

"Thanks for touching food for me. I know that's hard for you."

"You're worth it," I said, "And if you want another smoothie after that one, you can have mine. I'll make myself another one later."

He nodded. "You'd better. I'll be checking to make sure."

That sounded more like my Victor. I was relieved that he seemed a little better, although my optimism was of the cautious variety. I wasn't expecting miracles, and I was no longer living under the false hope that everything would magically go back to the way it was before, but even the tiniest bit of progress toward something like normalcy was better than no progress at all.

While Victor was occupied with his breakfast drink, I made my way upstairs to put my second brilliant plan of the day into action. It was obvious Victor couldn't keep sleeping on the sofa, and he couldn't climb the stairs to get to his room, but luckily we have a suitable third option. We have a shikibuton, or as I’ve heard westerners refer to it, a Japanese floor mattress.

I wrestled it out of the closet in the laundry room and dragged it to the top of the stairs, whereupon I gave it a little shove and let it make its own way down. This was far from elegant, but it was a lot less difficult than trying to carry the rolled-up mattress without help.

What I hadn't considered was that even though it's possible to see the stairway from the sitting room, Victor couldn't see it in enough detail to realize what was going on. Probably all he could see was the shadow of something coincidentally Yuri-sized sliding and thumping down the stairs, and I know he heard the thud when it finally hit the hallway floor.

He let out a yell that scared me just as much as the descending shikibuton had likely scared him, and by the time I'd made my way down far enough to see him, he was on the floor as well. He was lying with one hand pressed against his side and the other outstretched in the direction of the stairs, and the look on his face was one of terror.

"Yuri? Yuri!"

"It's okay," I said, as I hurried to him. "I'm okay. It was just the futon." I knelt beside him and touched his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Wh-what were you doing?" he gasped, as I helped him sit up. "I thought you fell."

"I was getting the shikibuton for you to sleep on," I said. "I couldn't carry it by myself."

"What'd you do? Push it down the stairs?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

He inhaled as if he was about to say something, but then simply crumpled in my arms and began to sob. I petted him and made soft shushing noises, but it didn't seem to calm him.

I could barely understand him as he cried into my sweater, "Don’t scare me like that again!”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said.

“What if it'd been you? I couldn't help you."

"It's all right," I said. "I'm fine."

"But, what if you weren't? What was I supposed to do if you got hurt? I... i couldn't even get to you."

"Is that what happened?" I asked gently. "Did you fall, trying to get to me?"

"Yeah," he said miserably. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," I said. "I should've told you what I was going to do. Did you hurt yourself?"

He sniffled. "No. Bruised my knees a little bit, maybe. Nothing major."

"As long as you're not hurt, that's what matters."

"I don't want you to leave me," he said.

"Don't worry. I already told you I'm not going anywhere," I assured him. "I'm not going to leave you."

"No, I mean, you have to stay close to me. I don't want you to go anywhere I can't see or hear you. You have to promise. I can't help you if something happens, and I have to know you're safe."

"All right," I said. I couldn't picture that as being at all practical, but he was upset and frightened, and it wouldn't have done any good to disagree with him.

We stayed on the floor for a long time. I'm not sure exactly how long, but it was certainly enough time for me to start feeling physically uncomfortable.

Victor must’ve finally had enough of the hardwood beneath him too, as he shifted in my arms and said, “Can I go back to the couch now?”

"Of course,” I said. “Do you think you can try to walk a couple of steps for me? You're so close to the sofa, it doesn't make much sense to use your wheelchair."

"I don't know," he said. "What if I can't do it?"

"You can,” I said. “I think you must've walked from the sofa to this spot in the first place, because your wheelchair's in the kitchen."

His expression was one of surprise, as if he'd only just remembered how he'd gotten off the sofa when he thought I'd fallen down the stairs. "Okay," he said. "I'll try."

"Good," I said. "I'll help you."

"Okay."

After a few false starts and a mighty effort from both of us, he was on his feet. He was shaking, and I could tell he was scared, but to his credit, he didn't show any signs of giving up like he had at the hospital. He draped one arm across my shoulders, and I wrapped both of mine around his waist to support him.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Not really.”

"You can do it. Left foot first."

He hesitated for a few seconds, but then he obediently slid his left foot ahead several centimeters. He never let any part of it lose contact with the floor, but I didn’t care as long as he was moving forward.

“Good?" he inquired, as if he were accomplishing some complex new skill for the first time and needed my approval of his performance.

"Very good," I praised him. “You’re doing brilliantly. Right foot, now.”

“Don’t let me run into anything.”

“Can you see the table?”

“Not clearly, but I can see where it is.”

“There’s nothing else you could run Into, and I’ll be between you and the table,” I said. “You’re doing well. Take one more step for me, okay?

“This is really hard,” he said.

“I know, but you’re being so brave, and you’re doing it. Just a couple more steps and you’ll be there, and then you can rest.”

In actuality, it was more than a couple of steps back to the sofa. It was really about five or six, which is not a lot, but for Victor it might as well have been a full marathon. A distance that would've taken anybody else about three seconds to cover took us more like two or three minutes, and by the time we reached the sofa and I guided Victor onto it, he was sweating and out of breath.

It was strange, seeing him like that. I’ve watched him do intense cardio workouts and not perspire nearly as much as he was just then. His exhaustion said a lot about his stress level, and about how much strength he’d lost in a week. It wasn't necessarily just physical strength, but also psychological strength, and I suddenly understood why Dr. Sato had wanted to get him up and moving as soon as possible. She’d wanted to prevent what we were experiencing right now.

Then and there, I made up my mind that Victor and I were going to walk together for a few minutes every day, until he built up enough confidence to do it by himself. I was determined this would happen, even if I had to beg, threaten or manipulate him into doing it, because I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him deteriorate any further. If he did, he might never regain the ability to be independently mobile, and that would be like a life sentence for him. He might not appear very lively now, but I knew that once he was feeling better and was no longer in any pain, he'd be full of restless energy and impossible to deal with if he didn't have a way to move around and burn it off.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, once I'd gotten him settled with his blanket and his second smoothie.

"Yeah," he said. "I feel kind of gross, though. You think I could take a shower?"

"How about a bath?" I suggested. "Unless you're ready to tackle the stairs already?"

"What? Oh... right. No shower in the downstairs bathroom," He tilted his head quizzically. "You think Yuna was serious when she told you to put trash bags on my arms? You know, yesterday before we left the hospital, when she was explaining all that home care stuff to you, I mean.”

"I didn't realize you were paying attention," I said. "And yes, I think she was. She wouldn't have said it if she weren't serious,. You can't get your casts wet, and bin bags are a good way to keep them dry."

"Not very attractive, though."

"Who do you need to impress? I already think you're the most beautiful man in the world."

This earned me a tiny smile. "Even when I'm all sweaty and stinky?"

"We're going to fix that," I said. "Let me finish setting up your bed first, and then we'll get you cleaned up."

I unrolled the shikibuton in the dining room. That was the only room downstairs where there was enough space for it, and even so, I had to haul the table closer to one end of the room to make sure there was enough clear area to push the wheelchair around.

The dining room may have been the only choice, but all things considered, it wasn't bad. The door can be closed for privacy, and it's a lot closer to the bathroom than the sitting room is. Getting Victor to walk to the bathroom might not be such an insurmountable goal if we start from here instead of from the sitting room.

By the time I was done arranging everything and putting fresh sheets, a blanket and pillows on the mattress, I felt damp and sticky and in need of a bath myself.

I have to say, despite the necessary alterations to our routine, our bath was the most normal thing about our day.

Victor and I often bathe together, so it wasn't weird for me to climb in with him or even to wash him. He tried to wash my back, pressing the sponge between my skin and the tips of his plastic bag covered fingers, while simultaneously attempting to keep his arm out of the bathwater. Needless to say, this was far too awkward to continue for more than a few seconds, but it added a bit of levity and made us both feel like things were the way they were supposed to be, if only for a moment.

The most difficult aspect of the experience was getting Victor dressed afterwards. Thank the Watcher for sweatpants, and for the fact that they’re a wardrobe staple for my professional athlete husband, because I’m sure we would’ve had far more of a challenge ahead of us if his fashion choices were more like mine. He decided he didn’t want to put on a shirt, claiming it’d be too much work to get into, and I didn’t argue. I reasoned that he could always have more blankets if he got cold in bed.

He was definitely ready for bed after his bath. Just as I’d predicted, a full stomach did wonders for the effectiveness of his pain medication, and I'm sure being clean and comfortable helped him relax as well. He told me he was feeling “floaty”, which made me want to laugh despite the circumstances. That particular pain medication does tend to disconnect you from reality a bit when it’s working properly, and I could absolutely relate to the sensation of my consciousness hovering somewhere between hypothetical parallel universes. In my opinion, when you're in such a state, the safest place to be is in bed.

He wanted me to lie down with him, which I was more than willing to do, regardless of the fact that it was only mid-morning. I’d been awake since half-past six on Thursday morning, and my body was pleading for rest. I’m not used to going that long without sleep. Victor likes to tease me about being a professional napper, and he’s not wrong. I like to get my eight hours per night, plus a quick afternoon snooze when I can.

It’d been a long time since I’d slept on a floor mattress., and I’d forgotten how cozy they are. It was almost as good as being in my own bed, especially with Victor snuggled against my side.

I was slightly disappointed that we couldn’t cuddle the way we did in the past. Usually, it’s Victor who holds me, and I’ve been known to lie half on top of him sometimes, which he apparently likes, judging by how often he’s rolled me onto his chest with a teasing whisper of, “Come up here and get warm.” But, I couldn’t put any of my weight on him anywhere now, and particularly not on his chest. Instead, he curled up beside me with his head on my shoulder and his arms resting across my body.

It was nice, even if it wasn't what I was used to. More than anything, I was just happy to be able to share a bed with him again. I'd been desperately lonely without him, and I don't think I even realized the magnitude of my loneliness during the past week until I had him safe at home with me.

"I love you, Victor," I said softly.

"I know," he said. "I lucked out there."

I smiled at that. "Not the typical response, but I'll accept it."

He made a sound that might've been a stifled laugh. "Sorry. I think the drugs are messing me up. I'm not used to having stuff like this in my body."

"I hope you never need to get used to it," I said. I stroked his shoulder lightly. "Are you in any pain right now?"

"No," he said. "The stuff is working really good, I think. Not like last night."

"Because you ate something."

"Drank something."

"Whatever. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he said. He was quiet for a moment, and then, 'Yuri?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, too. Sorry I dropped that ball a minute ago. And, uh... thanks for taking care of me, even though I'm a stubborn pain in the ass."

"You are a stubborn pain in the ass," I acknowledged, laughing. "But, I love you and I wouldn't trade you for anybody else."

"When my mom and Julian get here, are you still gonna do stuff for me?"

"Do you want me to?" I asked. "Last night, you didn't seem keen on it."

He moved his head against my shoulder in what I imagined was meant to be a nod. "Yeah, I... I think I do want you to. I was thinking about it, and I realized... it'd be super weird for my mom to give me a bath. I want you to do that. And help me get dressed. At least with the bottom parts, 'cause like, it'd be awkward for my mom to, you know... see my man stuff."

"Got it. We'll keep all your private bits private."

This time, he managed a real laugh, although I might've described it more as a giggle. "Private bits."

"Well, at the risk of being explicit, would you rather I'd said something else?" I asked.

"No. But like, are we actually having this conversation?"

"I'm afraid we are," I said. "You never thought your life would come to this, did you?"

"No, but if it had to come to this, I'm glad I've got you on my side." He drew in a deep breath, and his tone was more serious when he spoke again. "I really am sorry I let this happen, though. We wouldn't be in this mess if I'd made better choices."

"It wasn't just you," I told him. "We both could've handled it better. But, let's not go over that again, okay? We are where we are right now, and there's no changing it, so we've got to do our best with what we have."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... scary, you know? And I feel bad about it. No... 'bad' isn't big enough a word, but I can't think of the right one, and... I don't know how to stop blaming myself."

"Would it help to know I don't blame you?"

"Maybe, a little."

"Perhaps you can talk about it with your psychologist at your appointment next week. Maybe he'll know what to do."

"Do you think so? I'm not sure how I feel about talking to him."

"You liked him when you met him in the hospital, didn't you?"

"He was nicer than the eye doctor," Victor said.

"That wouldn't take much, would it?" I said. "I'm going to call my eye doctor on Monday, and ask her if she can fit you in sometime soon. We need to get a better assessment for you than you got from Dr. Nakayama."

"Do you think Dr. Nakayama was wrong?"

"I don't know what to think, other than it's a good idea to get a second opinion."

"Okay," he agreed. "You and Mom and Julian have to come with me."

"I can't speak for your mother or Dr. Julian, but I'll be by your side the whole time," I said. "I'll hold your... fingers? I guess I can't hold your hand, can I?"

"Yeah. Hold my fingers." He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck and shoulder. "Hold every finger, an' tell me if you can put my rings back on me, 'kay?"

I'd nearly forgotten about his rings, and the thought of putting them back on his fingers made me smile. "After our nap, do you want me to check and see if they fit?"

"Mm-hmm..." he murmured. "'specially my wedding ring."

"Go to sleep," I said. "When you wake up, we'll check."

His response was an incomprehensible mumble that might've been, "Marry me."

"Silly man," I whispered, but he probably didn't hear me, as he was already asleep.

I've started to develop a habit of lying awake while Victor is sleeping. This is most likely because there's been so much to think about in the past week, and I'm too busy to do much thinking when Victor is awake.

As I lay there I ran through my mental list of things that needed to be done, and tried not to feel overwhelmed. Victor has appointments with the psychologist and occupational therapist next week, and possibly with the eye doctor if she can fit him in. I'll need to go to the supermarket and the pharmacy, and I'll have to find time to do some housekeeping. Somewhere in there, I'll need to make some time to work, too. Mr. Tanaka has been gracious, but he's not going to be lenient forever. I decided I'd better make a schedule; otherwise, nothing would get accomplished.

Dr. Grace and Dr. Julian will be here tomorrow, I reminded myself. I was comforted by the knowledge that Victor and I could rely on his mother and stepfather, even if we couldn't rely on my father.

Not for the first time during this whole ordeal, I wished for my own mother to be here. She'd know what to do, and she'd take charge of the situation which, at times, has felt wildly out of control to me. Whenever I've talked to her over the past week, I've had to stop myself from begging her to come home. I'd give just about anything for a hug from her, the sweet scent of her jasmine perfume, and her quiet, composed voice telling me everything would be all right and that she'd take care of me.

Without really meaning to, I let the tight grasp I'd had on my emotions slip. In the stillness of our dining room turned bedroom, accompanied only by the ticking of the clock on the sideboard and the soft sound of my husband's deep, somnolent breathing, I whimpered as hot tears leaked from the edges of my eyes.

Afraid I'd wake Victor, my immediate instinct was to fight the outburst. It took everything I had, and I found that it was far more draining than anything else I'd done that day. In the end, it was a good thing I was already lying down, because I'm not sure I could've held myself upright or even moved if I’d had to, I was so exhausted.

The reprieve was only temporary, I knew. Eventually, I'd reach a breaking point, and there'd be no holding back my tears then. The best I could do was hope that I was alone when it happened, so nobody would witness me completely falling apart.

#ts4 #sims 4 #eagames #snowy escape #tw injury #victorsworldadventures #stargazersims

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storiesofsvu · 2 years

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Just an honest question to someone who also is a server is $5 really a good tip?

Because I use to think it was you know in the past whenever I would go out especially to a casual restaurant I would always tip $5 to $6 but one day me and my ex best friend went on to eat and agreed to go half on the tip I was going to leave about $5 to $6 and she told me to stop being such a weak tipper because she always leaves $7 to $10 so she expected me to do the same and I did that time.

Last year I got a job as a server at Olive Garden part time, and it kind of changed my perspective on tipping. Most of the time I got $7 to $12 tips for each table especially on the weekend. And I would get at least one $20+ tip everyday so whenever I would go out to eat I would do the same. Especially because now I know what some servers go through. I ended up leaving Olive Garden and couldn't go back right now I'm at Cracker Barrel which is a bit more casual. Not too many people leave big tips unless its a huge party.

And don't get me wrong I'm not complaining about $5 to $6 tips but sometimes people will say things like you did such an amazing job and give me compliments and talk about leaving a awesome tip but then its just $5 which is common I know everyone tips different but honestly I wonder why do some people hype up their servers and make it seem like they're going to leave this huge tip only to leave $5 as a server I'm always grateful but I've seen some of my fellow servers get a little down especially when the its a huge party or they literally go above and beyond for picky and complicated customers with a smile and these people spend the whole time praising their service and promising to be very generous only to leave $5 and on some level I understand where the servers are coming from which is why I always leave $8 to $11 when I can these day at restaurants

okay. here are my thoughts. first off, $5 CAN be a great tip! it can also be a TERRIBLE tip. it depends on the situation. are you grabbing a beer from the bar before moving back to the pool table? great! have you sat down at a restaurant and had a server bring you a drink(water or something else), an appi for the table, an entree and give them $5, probably not.

i always think of tips as percentages, the usual ones are 10% 15% 18% 20%

20% of a bill is considered the good tip. a service industry employee usually will tip more than 20% if they're out at another establishment.

basically, dollar amount means absolutely NOTHING without the total cost of the cheque being brought into play.

i will never tip below 20%, no matter what. and like the bigger bills, the ones that are above $100, you do the math and 20% is only $20 and sometimes that just doesnt seem like enough. even if service is terrible, or i have some complaint, i will always do the 20, and then talk to someone NOT THE SERVER on the way out IF i must.

thats the rule in restaurants, in bars that you are at a table with a server bringing you drinks/food, or if you start a tab with the bartender at a bar.

NOW, here is my *personal* opinion on tipping as a bartender who only makes their money at the wood, meaning, people who come grab drinks from the physical bar and pay me vs starting a tab at their tables.

$1 minimum per SINGLE bottle/can of beer, cider, seltzer. for example, ours are priced between $7.50 and $10.00 so thats 10%. why do i think $1 is good? because you say "stella" i turn around, grab it from the fridge, open it and hand it to you, it takes no time, its quick and i dont expect much

$1.50 min tip for ONE single draught beer. again, not too much effort, but it takes more of my time to pour the draught, and thats time i could be focussing on serving more guests, making more sales, etc

$2.00 for a high ball (aka, one type of alcohol mixed with one type of juice/pop/whatever) it takes me more time to dive over to the well, grab the cup, fill it with ice, then booze, then mix then garnish it, then give it to you

$2.50+ for anything more complicated than that PER SINGLE DRINK. if you order something with more than 2 types of liquor and 2 types of mix, or it's shaken or the bartender has to go track down shit from the kitchen, or weird ingredients, you should just be tipping higher. if you say "this shot!" and then your drunk friend combats you and i quickly come back with the liquor you asked for, whether it is being poured or im all "what did you want?" remember you've already taken up a chunk of my time, so you should be tipping higher, and if i pour the originally asked for thing and your drunk friend who happens to be paying says "i said this!" and they are wrong, fucking make sure they tip. otherwise you're all the asshole.

it varies. i had a person a couple weeks ago who tipped $5 on every single order from the bar, they had max 2 drinks each time, we LOVED them. i had a woman who was angry about her server being too overwhelmed, i tried to make things right, i apoligized, said i would track down a manager, she ordered through me, didn't tip. i tried harder when she came back up, went straight to her and offered her the exact drink she had last time, i remembred her and her order, still, no tip. so, she got not as fast service the rest of the night

ALSO, at ,my work we get a lot of staff from the sister staff with drink tickets, some of them suck and hand us a drink ticket and expect the full experience. nah fam. hand me the drink ticket with a 5 bill and you'll get immediate service.

the SAME goes for if you have a gift card! if your bill is $250 and you have a gift card for $200, when you go to pay the rest on debit, it's going to ONLY tip the 20% on the $50, which is NOT right.

ANYWAYS, now i'm rambling.

TIP YOUR SERVERS/BARTENDERS/SERVICE EMPLOYEES

MINIMUM 20% go above and beyond if they go above and beyond

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albakore · 3 years

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Away From Home

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Thoma/Tohma (fem!reader) (fic)

Synopsis: (office!au) Even your boss Zhongli has moments where self control goes out the window to make way for carnal desires.

Warnings: not sfw (18+) reverse harem, (an orgie?), semi public sex again, creampie, oral (giving), petnames (angel, princess, gem), squirting, umm? did i miss anything?, not proofread because im lazy if you catch any errors feel free to shoot me an ask,

A/N: This is a part two to Office Adventures but t's not necessary that you read it before this. I don't know if people were expecting a direct continuation of the last one but I took some creative liberty because I felt like that would be boring and instead created a whole new scenario, I hope you all enjoy it just the same!

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘•⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ ⊰ ⋅•⋅

The sexual tension in the office since that (ahem) eventful meeting had been nothing short of palpable, as Lisa had been ever so kind to point out. Even Jean and Eula were starting to grow frustrated with the way Childe and Kaeya made it painstakingly obvious their lust for you, and as you explained to Jean apologetically, they just wouldn't seem to take your request to tone it down seriously. Though you couldn't deny that even you often found your mind wandering as you sat alone in your office, frequently coming to remember the way you wobbled out of the meeting room that day, cunt quivering and leaking cum.

Luck seemed to be on Jean's side however, because this week you found yourself away from the office on an important regional business conference accompanied by none other than the men themselves, leaving her alone in charge of the office for a few days. The adventure of being in a new place was always exciting; there was light in your eyes as your plane touched down just outside the city, the skyline stood shimmering off in the distance. Though, as Diluc so gracefully reminded you, this was not a vacation but a business trip and most of your time would be consumed by meetings and other work-related affairs.

"(Name)!" You heard someone call from behind you. You were walking back to the hotel after another boring day of drifting in and out of meetings with people you hardly knew and topics you hardly cared about.

"Hm?" Your head turned to see three familiar figures waving at you as they approached.

"Care to join us for dinner? It'll be our treat." Childe asked once they had caught up to you, falling into step beside you.

"Where are you guys going?" You asked. You silently took in the appearance of the boys beside you. You hadn't gotten a chance to see them all day since you greeted them at the complimentary hotel breakfast bar this morning, and you had to admit they cleaned up nicely. You admired the three's formal dress, remembering the way Zhongli had specifically lectured them on the importance of appearance at an event like this. You notes Thoma's expensive looking watch and Kaeya's tailored button-up shirt that was, of course, unbuttoned halfway now that the workday was over. Childe had his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder, one hand holding the jacket the other shoved in his pocket.

"Mr. Zhongli found this fancy looking French restaurant a few blocks away, he wanted us to get there before we missed our reservation time." Thoma answered.

"Where is he?" You asked, taking note of his and Diluc's absence from the group.

"He and Diluc got caught up in some last minute business they had to attend to. It's times like these I don't envy the higher up positions of our company's cofounders." Kaeya answered you this time. "No matter how attractive the pay increase may seem, I can only handle so much overtime."

"You can say that again." Childe chuckled in agreeance, "I can't tell you how many times I've left the office only to come back in the morning and find Zhongli still hunched over some paperwork."

"Hey, guys, I think this is the place." Thoma motioned to the building you were approaching, and you immediately realized that 'fancy looking' was an understatement. "Will you be joining us, Lady (Name)?" Thoma questioned, extending his hand as an invitation to you.

"I don't see why not." You flashed him a smile before placing your hand in his, allowing him to tug you along. Kaeya opened the door for you, gesturing to allow you to step inside first. You were awestruck by the inside -- if you thought ‘fancy looking’ was an understatement for the outside, then the inside could be described as nothing short of grandiose. There were round tables covered in white cloth and fancy silverware, a fountain sat in the middle of the room behind the hostess desk and elegant trimmings lining the staircase off on the far side of the room. You quickly quelled your shocked expression as the hostess approached you.

"We have a reservation for six under the name Zhongli." Childe told her. "We'll have two more joining us later."

She checked her ledger and quickly crossed off the name. "Right this way, sir." She said to Childe with a polite smile. She led your group away from the main room, opening the door to a nicely decorated single-table room with a pleasant and romantic vibe, most likely accredited to the soft lighting.

“Thank you.” Childe told her as you four took your seats. One side of the table had booth-style seating and the other side had individual chairs. She closed the door with a click, and before you knew it you were sat in between Kaeya and Childe on the booth side, with Thoma directly across from you. You picked up a menu and began flipping through it to get a feel for what items might interest you. Before long, Childe’s hand had found its way onto your thigh. You looked down at it before looking back at him, a silent prompt for an explanation. “What?” He inquired mischievously, thumb rubbing your skin gently.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could your server opened the door with a brief knock. Childe’s hand stayed firmly in place as the server introduced themselves before asking if they could get you guys anything to drink. Thoma and Childe ordered regular fountain drinks, and requested two extra waters be brought out preemptively for Diluc and Zhongli whenever they should arrive.

“Ah yes may I have a glass of your finest red wine.” Kaeya asked with a smile once it came his time to order, earning a look from you. “What? It’s coming out of Diluc’s pocket not mine, might as well make good use of it.”

"And I'll have a..." You started, feeling Childe's hand inch upwards as the servers gaze remained fixed on you. "Just a r-regular glass of water please." You managed to force out while trying to ignore the growing feeling of need that Childe's attention was causing you. You smiled at the server as they stated that they'd be right back with your drinks.

Moments after the server left, Thoma's phone started buzzing. He answered it and paused for a few moments before he stepped away saying something about needing to meet Diluc and Zhongli in the lobby. That left you alone trapped in a booth with two mischievous gazes focused on you. "I must say, (Name)," Childe started, "you look absolutely stunning tonight. You really took Zhongli's 'Dress to Impress' speech to heart it seems." His flirty demeanor was predictable, earning a chuckle and an eye roll from you. His fingers were tracing patterns into the flesh of your inner thigh, head resting in his other hand as he studied you. You felt Kaeya's arm snake around your torso, hand coming to rest on your hip.

"He's right, you should wear this outfit more often." Kaeya whispered into your ear.

“You know, typically you’re supposed to wine and dine me before you-“ A knock resonated from the door, cutting you off and causing Kaeya to pull away from you but neither him nor Childe made any effort to remove their hands from where they were situated. The server entered with the table’s drinks on a tray, dishing them out to their respective spots on the table before asking if anybody was ready to order. Kaeya told them politely that we would wait for the rest of the group to join us first, and with that they turned and exited the room again.

You watched as Kaeya reached for his no doubt expensive wine, taking a sip and letting out a satisfied hum. "This wine is absolutely divine, it's not often I get the chance to indulge in such luxury. Would you like to try some, angel?" Kaeya asked you while his fingertips traced your hips.

"Sure." You hummed back, reaching out to grab the glass but Kaeya stopped your hand. You looked at him quizzically, watching as he dipped two fingers into the glass and let the crimson liquid pool at his fingertips. He brought his fingers to your lips, waiting for you to part them. You did, but only ever so slightly, letting your tongue drag along his slender fingers with a hum of delight as you maintained eye contact with him. Once upon a time you may have been flustered by his actions, but ever since the incident in the meeting room you have become no stranger to these types of occurrences. You pulled away before pressing a kiss to the pads at the tip of his finger.

"Divine indeed, captain." You added teasingly, the nickname a reference to a costume he wore to a halloween party last year that had caught on and stuck around even months after. You watched his unreadable expression closely as you awaited his response. He grabbed your face, tugging you toward him so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips while he caressed your cheek gently. You felt Childe's hand inch upward yet again further and further before finally reaching your clothed sex. Your breath hitched as Kaeya deepened the kiss, Childe rubbing you through thin material at a teasingly slow pace. You shifted your hips, trying to gain more friction from his fingers.

Kaeya pulled back from the kiss to let you catch your breath. "You know, there is one thing that would make this wine taste better." He kissed along your jaw and down your neck, breath fanning your skin as he continued. "If I could pour it over your chest and lick it off of you, slowly, inch by inch while you squirmed under my touch. That would make this experience undeniably perfect." You felt a shiver run down your spine, hand intertwining with his hair. As if working in tandem with Kaeya, Childe took this opportunity to slip his fingers past the barrier of fabric, your slick making his fingers run smoothly over your folds. Your free hand extended over to Childe's lap so you could palm him through his pants, thumb caressing the imprint of his erection. He let a breathy moan right next to your ear, fingers slipping into your heat.

"This is our reserved room, correct?" Zhongli’s voice resonated from just outside the door before the door swung open. He stepped in, followed by Diluc and Thoma. Your eyes met with Zhongli's as you tried futilely to push the lustful duo off of you. You filled with embarrassment when you thought about how sleazy you must look with Kaeya's lips attached to your neck and Childe's fingers squelching in and out of you. "Thoma, switch with (name), please. Evidently these two are incapable of practicing self control."

"W-what?" You protested, stomach sinking at the thought of disappointing your boss.

"Seriously, you two wouldn't know good timing if it hit you in the face. Your hotel rooms are literally a few yards away from each other." Diluc scoffed, tossing his suit coat over the back of his chair before pulling it out and sitting in it.

Childe pulled away from you, frowning at Diluc's words. "If I'm not mistaken, it was you who was moaning her name last night while you were alone in the shower, no?"

"And if I'm not mistaken, I'm still your boss. Watch how you talk to me." Diluc shot back immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. You scooted out of the booth, over Childe's lap, effectively pulling away from the two.

"Sorry.." You fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt, still trying to recover from the embarrassment.

"You misunderstand me, gem, I'm not upset at you in the slightest." Zhongli smoothed over some of your hair comfortingly. "I specifically had a talk with these two about keeping things professional on this trip. This has nothing to do with you or your actions." You stared at him for a second before nodding. You took your place in between Zhongli and Diluc, directly across from where you had been previously sitting.

"How did your meetings go?" Zhongli asked you, tone much softer than the one he had just taken with Childe and Kaeya.

"They were boring for the most part, I managed to make a few connections though so that's good. What about you?" You responded, tuning out Diluc and Childe's bickering in the background.

"Stressful, I had many presentations to give, and only few bode over well."

"That's just how it goes." Thoma chimed in. "Tomorrow is a new day filled with new opportunity, I'm sure you'll do better."

"Stressful, eh? Fortunately for you, I know of the perfect way to relieve stress." Kaeya, ever the troublemaker, fixed his gaze on you pointedly for a few seconds to allow his point to get across. He just couldn't help himself when the ball was set up fo perfectly for him to spike it. You studied Zhongli's expression, his face remaining stoic as he processed Kaeya's innuendo.

"Unfortunately, the rules I set for you two apply to me as well. It would be wholly unfair to not hold myself to the same standard I hold my staff." Zhongli answered effortlessly. Seems like all these years of press conferences seemed to have really sharped his ability to form charismatic responses. Wait, 'unfortunately'?

"C'mon, Zhongli, (name)'s had eyes for us just as much as we've had eyes for them. You should see the look they get on their face when they're alone in their office." Childe laughed after ending his bickering session with Diluc. Your eyes went wide at that, having whole-heartedly believed you were being careful about when to indulge in your fantasies. "Besides, doesn't fucking them senseless sound like the perfect pick-me-up after a long day of meetings."

Zhongli seemed like he was still struggling to process his comment, resolve chipping with every second. He couldn't deny the nights he spent replaying the image of you bent over that table while he pleasured himself, and tonight was shaping up to be no different -- well, that would have been the case had he not attended this dinner. His eyes shifted over to you, inner turmoil apparent in them. Evidently, your response would be the deciding factor that pushed Zhongli to either side of the fence.

"He's not wrong." You shrugged, offering Zhongli a small smile. It was a simple sentence, only three words and yet… You watched his expression darken in that moment, his half hard erection already apparent in his pants.

"Thoma," you immediately noted the way his voice seemed to have dropped an octave. His gaze never once left yours.

"Yes boss?" Thoma responded almost instantly.

"Lock the door." Zhongli growled. Your heart skipped a beat, you felt heat rush straight to your core. The way Zhongli was looking at you made you feel bare even though not a single article of clothing had been removed from your form, at least not yet.

"The waitress is going to come back to place our order though." Diluc seemed to be the only voice of reason in this scenario. Thoma returned, scooting back into his spot in the booth, forcing Childe to be the one trapped in the middle this time. "That's gonna look awfully suspicious."

"Frankly, I can't seem to bring myself to care about that right now." Zhongli stood from his seat. He turned toward you, motioning for you to stand as well. "We'll tell them I had an important announcement that I didn't want getting interrupted or something." He lifted you at the hips and set you down on the table, placing himself in between your legs and pulling your core to meet his crotch. His lips caught yours, deep and breathtaking, as his hands roamed over your body. He tugged your shirt to untuck it until his fingers came into contact with the hem. He pulled it up, breaking the kiss to allow him to discard your shirt.

You found yourself rocking against him as his lips worked down your neck and chest. A new pair of hands hooked themselves under your bra clasp. You looked back to see Childe's arm extended. He pushed the straps off your arms, allowing the bra to fall away and expose your breasts. The cool air made your nipple perk instantly. You felt Childe's hands tug you down gently, allowing your back to lay against the cool cloth. You looked over to see Diluc's hands full of your table's drinks as he set them off to the side to avoid any accidents. Thoma eagerly took one of your nipples into his mouth while Kaeya's cold hand cupped the other.

Childe scooted the table away from him to provide him with the room to stand up. Your cheeks burned as you found yourself face to face with his still clothed erection. He chuckled at your expression, fingers caressing your cheek. He let his pointer finger trail delicately down your jaw to your chin, and then from your chin down your exposed neck. You shivered slightly at the way it tickled.

You felt someone tug down your skirt and your underwear, cool air rushing over your core. Zhongli had managed to free his member from his pants and was pumping himself outside of your field of vision. His other hand was pressed to your hip. He admired the way your chest heaved. Thoma and Kaeya littered your skin with bite marks and kisses. You watched intently as Childe followed in Zhongli's lead, freeing himself from his pants. Your lips parted slightly in anticipation, breath fanning the tip of Childe's dick with every exhale. Zhongli lined himself up with your entrance, you clenched your fists when you felt his tip push in. He sunk the rest of the way into you, a sigh of relief falling from his lips. He silently thanked Kaeya and Childe for prepping you so well before he had even arrived. Childe repeated this same process with your lips, slowly sinking into your mouth and relishing the feeling of your warm tongue wrapping around him.

The men both started thrusting at the same time but at very different paces. Childe was eager and less restrained, holding you steady while he fucked your face. He was also louder, not seeming to care if the staff or other patrons heard how good you were making him feel. Zhongli on the other hand was slower, drawing all the way out of you before slamming back into you. Though, after a few moments he seemed to compromise with himself and picked up the pace slightly, only drawing partially out of you, but still enough to let you feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each powerful thrust. You felt Diluc's familiar fingers come into contact with your clit, rubbing you in just the right way to make you clench around Zhongli and moan around Childe. Diluc left kisses all over your lower half, his long hair spilling over his shoulder and tickling your stomach.

The lewd sounds of slapping and kissing and sucking were all that could be heard in the room, along with Childe’s occasional unrestrained noises of pleasure. He moaned your name, head thrown back and mouth agape. His cheeks were flushed bright pink, and they only seemed to glow brighter the closer he got to cumming. Childe's pace became sloppy and erratic as he drew near to his own orgasm, thrusts becoming shallow as he chased euphoria. He pulled out right as he hit his high point so he could paint your chest with his cum. He moaned your name particularly loudly as he did, using his own hand to slowly lower himself down from his peak.

Kaeya pulled back and marveled at the marks he left on your skin, the imprints of his teeth visible in several spots. "My turn already?" He hummed, fingers tracing over the splotches and bruises on your skin. "A shame, I wasn't finished with my work of art yet." He stood up nonetheless as Childe fell back on the seat behind him, still trying to catch his breath. Kaeya quickly took his place, much to Thoma's disappointment. Kaeya's signature smirk hadn't left his face once while he admired the way your breasts glistened with a mixture of sweat and cum. He slowly undid the button to his pants, pushing them partially down his legs before moving to his underwear. You swear his cock bounced when it sprang free, tip flushed and absolutely beautiful. It seems this man truly didn't have an ugly bone in his body.

You felt Zhongli slowly coming undone inside you too, his cock twitching more and more every time he pushed himself into your smooth walls, even more so whenever Diluc's added stimulation made you clench around him. You felt yourself rock against his fingers, your own climax on the horizon. Zhongli gave one final thrust into you before you felt him spill his hot seed into you, his fingers digging into your hips in an attempt to ground himself. You moaned at the feeling of your walls being coated white. Kaeya took this as an opportunity to muffle you with his cock. He stuffed your mouth full of him, watching in a sort of satisfied sadistic fashion as you choked slightly on his length.

Zhongli pulled out of you after he finished cumming, panting heavily. You whined around Kaeya's cock at the loss of contact, hole clenching desperately around nothing. You squirmed your hips and mewled, hoping someone would get your wordless plea for some form of stimulation. Diluc, ever so observant, was the first one to pick up on your discomfort. "Aw, does my little princess want to be filled up again?" He asked tauntingly. "Do you want my cock inside of you?" His fingers continued to push you toward your orgasm. He chuckled at the way you jerked your hips into his touch, whines becoming louder still even with your mouth full of Kaeya's erection. As he felt your body start to tense, he withdrew his hand from your clit before you could cum. You pressed your thighs together while a groan left your lips, feeling frustrated tears well up in your eyes.

Diluc switched spots with Zhongli and unzipped his pants loud enough to get the anticipation in your stomach building rapidly. You heard fabric bunching and shuffling, and in turn took advantage of the adrenaline rush you were getting to eagerly please Kaeya. You hollowed your cheeks and allowed your tongue to work over him, lewd sucking noises escaping your lips. Kaeya groaned in response, his grip on your head tightening still as he bucked his hips into you frantically. You felt Zhongli's rough hands run over the skin of your breasts, centering on the nipples. You felt him wipe some of Childe's cum off you, and moments later the feeling of his fingers got replaced with his tongue as he sucked slightly on the soft flesh.

You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt Diluc's tip at your entrance, face contorting as you prepared for him to stretch you out just like Zhongli had. You paused as he pushed in -- not all the way, just an inch or so -- to truly revel in the feeling the he was providing you. He sunk in a little bit more to let you get used to the feeling of him in your tight sex, he was a little more girthy than Zhongli. Finally, he pushed into you until he bottomed out, filling your cunt to the brim with his member. A quiet groan escaping his lips; you would give anything to see the blissful look on his face right now.

You squirmed as he started to move. He went slowly at first, letting himself become coated in your slick to make his job easier. He took a few moments to find a good rhythm, one that was much different from Zhongli's. He was steady and consistent, pulling out an inch or two only to push back into you. He lifted one of your legs to give him a better angle, you let out a muffled moan as his tip kissed your sweet spot. Kaeya groaned again at the vibration of your voice. You felt Kaeya’s thumb press slightly against the center of your throat where he could feel himself thrusting in and out of you. You swallowed around him as he gave his last few thrusts before he was sent over the edge, cumming in spurts over your tongue. He let out a long moan that you wanted to keep on repeat forever.

You caught sight of Thoma eagerly awaiting his chance to feel your mouth around him. Kaeya pulled out slowly, stepping to the side (albeit a little bit grudgingly) to let Thoma have his turn. Thoma has already freed himself, precum leaking from the tip. He seemed a little nervous as he found himself finally aligned with your awaiting mouth. “Are you sure this is alright?” He asked, closely watching your face for signs of discomfort. His gentleness was refreshing after the way Kaeya and Childe so unceremoniously face-fucked you.

You giggled, kissing his tip causing his ears to flush red. “Mhm, of course. You’re so good for me~” His eyes went wide at your praise. You let your mouth hang open as an invitation for him to enter you, a high pitched whine escaping him almost immediately after sinking into you. He cupped your head gently, pulling out of you slowly before pushing back into you, truly appreciating the stimulation you were giving him.

Kaeya truly could never sit still with an opportunity so grand in front of him. His fingers found their way to toy with your clit, his cold fingers making you squirm under his touch. Childe, who was still on the couch, had gotten hard again and was pumping himself as he watch you slowly get your holes stuff full of cum. You moaned as Diluc’s dick hit your sweet spot again and again, Kaeya’s cold fingers causing your head to spin. You could feel your orgasm coming fast, and it felt like it was going to be an intense one. You arched your back off the table, whines becoming increasingly more frequent the more pressure built up. Diluc also seemed to be nearing his release, you could always tell by the way he moaned your name. A few more thrusts into you was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out, thighs quivering as you squirted all over Kaeya’s fingers and Diluc’s cock alike. Diluc followed a few seconds after, burying himself inside of you as he came hard, eyes intently watching the sight of you during and after your orgasm.

Thoma’s cock twitched as he watched you make a mess over Diluc’s cock, his breathy moans of your name getting louder and louder. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to finish, not with the way your tongue traced his veins and your hand assisting him with whatever he couldn’t fit in your mouth. You felt the knot come undone and Thoma’s sweet cum flooded your mouth. He pulled out, gently wiping the spit from your face.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of heavy breathing as everyone came down from their highs. Zhongli was even nice enough to grab your water from where Diluc had set them off to the side and offer you some as he dabbed away some of your sweat with a napkin. Diluc finally pulled his now softened member out of you, admiring the way your cum-filled hole leaked. He had to fight the urge to fuck every last drop back into you.

A knock resonated from the door, causing everyone in the room to freeze. “Um, sorry to interrupt,” the servers voice sounded meekly from outside the door, “you guys reservation time is up…” You cringed at the idea of having to walk back to your hotel room in this state, legs still wobbly and cum all over you.

“I supposed to ‘important announcement’ excuse won’t work now..” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Zhongli sounded amused. “No need to fret, I’ll just pay them a generous tip to overlook this little.. endeavor.”

“You mean I’ll pay the tip.” Diluc cut in flatly. You all were lucky the company had the money to be avoiding scandals like this or else you’d all be done for. Maybe he could convince you to, uh, thank him for it later…

1K notes · View notes

outerbankies · 3 years

Note

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

@moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @rafeseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @theepoguelandia @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan @sofiatheseconf @hockeyshmockey @supersouthy @coffeeandcrimeshows @emptyloverofmine @infinitleyethereal @nerdypartytrashpsychic @mrs-cameron @tcmhollnd @nicavass @sakikos @catonthesideoftheroad @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity @depressinq @svechnibrock @julianakawaja @ctrlcherries @lostaurorax @wildflower98 @babygirl2022 @lieswithoutfairytales @painlesslies @messagesinthesky @orrsoared @destourtereaux @sammywilscn @tylernagle @anonymousobxfan @lilacsandwhiskey @raphaelcameron @mardema @princesspogue @alwaysclassyeagle @brittlehe-art @drewswrld

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firstbeachgoblin · 3 years

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Hey! I hope you’re well, can i request an imagine where reader is Embry’s imprint and they haven’t seen eachother in months because reader has a life she can’t just drop for him but she comes back when the pack is blowing up her phone ? Thank youu and don’t worry if you don’t write it, it’s fine!

Thank you for the request! It took a Long time But It's now complete with a total whopping 5k words!! Any way I hope you enjoy the fic.

I put it under the cut because it's so long but it's my brain baby at the moment lo.

Returning to you.

Embry Call x Reader

5058 words

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

Most of my life has been spent in the Forks area so getting to travel to Europe for six months to see the art and culture was a dream come true. The past four months I’ve been travelling through Europe, starting in Greece and ending my trip in the Irish countryside.

The old art and architecture filled me with a joy that I could not get anywhere else in the world. The smells, sounds and sights all played their own part into the experience. I got to see the moon rise over Mount Olympus, the David by Michelangelo in the Vatican, tour through the Louvre, drink wine on the beaches of France and so much more. I’ve been living my best life.

It's been a dream to see the world, I've met so many new people and tried so much food. I’ve enjoyed every minute of my trip, but there was a part of me that longed for the beaches of La Push.

That part is Embry. Embry Call. My boyfriend, my pal, my love and my light. To me Embry is my everything and to him I’m his everything. That is one thing that has been made perfectly clear the past four months I’ve been away. Every day he’s told me he misses me and I know he means it, I’ve been told not just by him but also the rest of the pack.

Everyday I’ve woken up to ‘Good morning I miss you.” Sometimes he phones to tell me that he feels like he might die if I’m away for any longer. I always chuckle and tell him he will survive, it’s not like I’m going away forever; but that's what he feels like it is. This usually earns me a long winded whine from the other end of the line.

My phone buzzed against the smooth surface of the bedside table while Embry’s face flashed across my screen signalling that he’s calling. A smile graces my lips as I pick up the phone to be greeted with his loving voice.

“Hi (y/n)!! I miss you so much.” sadness was laced in his usual cheery greeting, it hurt my heart to be away from him but I would never trade this experience for anything. I’ve been planning this for years and I wasn’t going to pass up cheap plane tickets.

He filled me in on the pack's shenanigans, complaining about how they keep teasing him for being glued to his phone awaiting any updates I would send him. The later it got the heavier my eyelids seemed to feel, my speech started to slur with exhaustion of time zones while Embry continued to become more energetic with each passing minute.

“Em. . .” A yawn interrupted me mid sentence, a low whine emanated from the phone as he knew I would want to get to bed to have the energy for the long trip I’ll embark on tomorrow for Ireland, which is my last stop. I’d be spending the remaining two months of my trip in the lush countryside.

“I think I should get to sleep, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.” I mumbled into the phone.

“But (y/n)!” he dragged out. I knew he wanted to talk longer but I physically cannot do it. Even though Embry and I don’t live together officially yet, we’d talk into the early morning till one of us fell asleep.

“But (y/n) what?” I dragged out the ‘a’ matching his whine.

“I miss you and want you to come home.” I could hear him pause over line before he continued.

“Besides, sleeping isn’t the same without you.”

I ran my hand through my hair gently tugging on the roots easing the tension that’s built up over my trip. As much fun as I’ve had, he does have a point. Sleeping just isn’t the same without Em. My nights have been spent restless in beds that aren’t mine without the comforting touch of my boyfriend; but that doesn’t mean I can just drop everything and go back home.

“Em you know I can’t just pack everything and go home. . .” I looked at the painting that hung over the tv that sat opposite of my bed. A puppy-like whimper fell from his lips when he spoke again, his voice cracked like he was going to cry. It broke my heart hearing him upset.

“I-I know I just really miss you.”

“I know Embry I miss you too, but it’s only two more months then I’ll be home.”

We chatted for ten more minutes before I fell asleep on the phone. As much as I missed falling asleep in his warm embrace I can’t just fly back home, not yet at least.

The blaring of my alarm woke me from my slumber. The clock face read 6:02 a.m. taking everything within myself to peel back the blankets that encased me in their warm grip. I patted through the bed sheets to find my phone only to knock it onto the floor in the process.

My lock screen adorned a photo of Embry with icing smudged across his face from his birthday party but a swamp of text messages from the pack covered my favourite photo of him. Five texts from Leah, seven from Jake, nine texts from Paul, 12 texts and two missed calls from Sam and a whole group chat titled ‘(y/n) come home.’

The group chat kept pinging with the members of the pack who were still awake discussing the logistics of flying out to Ireland to take me back home. Was Embry really causing that much strife in the pack for them to create a group chat? Knowing him, it couldn’t be too far from the truth.

Leah and I call once a week to check in and make sure the other is doing okay since I left. It’s one of my favourite parts of the week being able to have a one on one with someone sensible. Every week she fills me in on Embry begrudgingly, she does it because she knows it makes me happy which I appreciate.

Reading through her texts she didn’t say much in regards to Em’s behaviour the only message relating to him was “come get your man child please, he’s getting snot on the floor.”

I listened through Sam’s voice mails which were begging me to come home, he informed me that once Em knew I was asleep he started moping around Emily’s house again for the fourth consecutive night in a row. This was news to me.

The texts entailed that Embry was becoming a pain on patrol and that Paul ‘couldn’t take another minute of the incessant whining.’ I told them the same thing I told Embry; I’m not dropping everything and rushing back home to sooth the wails of a love sick boy. There isn’t much I can do from across the ocean anyway.

I stretched my body and headed towards the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower before I had to leave for the airport.

I packed the few remaining things I left out to prepare for the flight and headed my way to the lobby to check out. I enjoyed travelling but I wasn’t going to miss sleeping in hotels and hostels.

Two weeks have passed since I touched down in Ireland and to say I’ve been having the time of my life is an understatement; I’ve been having a ball living my best life.

The land was capped in a luscious emerald green sea of grass that waved in the wind, the roads were lined with hand built stone walls that marked the division of farmers fields.

Sheep and cattle grazed in pastures, and old castles dotted the countryside. It was gorgeous. It was a view that I wanted to see again, a view I want to see with Embry.

It felt like time was flying by between sight seeing, trail hiking, museum tours and calls with Embry and Leah. It has already been a month. I had one more month before I was to jet set back to the U.S. and see my Embry.

One more month before I was back in La Push surrounded by the scent of sea water and trees with the looming threat of rain constantly overhead except in the summer. For two months of the year La Push was bright and sunny with the expected summer storms that happened.

I had fallen asleep on the phone with Embry again when I realized my phone was lost in the sea of sheets as it buzzed with an incoming phone call.

I couldn’t find it until the call had gone to voicemail and my phone landed on the ground when I gave up and ripped the blankets off of the bed but whoever called must have felt it was really important. Picking up my phone the most unflattering photo of Jacob was plastered on the screen, his name in white.

“Hello?” I asked groggily into the phone, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I looked over at the clock which said in bold red numbers 1 am.

“Hey (y/n)! You sound like you just woke up.” I heard him chortle from the other end.

“That’s because I just woke up Jake, it’s one in the morning.” a yawn escaped my lips, I know I’ll have a rough time getting over jet lag when I go home.

He occupied twenty minutes with idle chatter and borderline interrogation about all the sights I’ve seen before I asked him why he was calling me so early in the morning

“Embry has spent the week at my house, you need to come home there’s nothing we can do anymore to occupy him till you return.” He sighed, Jake knows I want to finish my trip but we made a deal that I would come home early if there were absolutely no options left to keep Embry from sending the pack into hysterics.

I knew he was buttering me up for something.

“Are you sure you can’t figure something out? It’s just another month!”

“Another month of him eating my cereal and getting dirt on me from my dad!”

I snorted with laughter at the fact that Billy was telling Embry every embarrassing detail from his childhood.

“Jake please just let me think about it okay?” I sighed, flopping back into my hollowed cave of blankets and sheets.

“Okay, I’ll let you think about it but don’t think I won’t be telling Sam.” he warned.

We laughed together and he wished me a good night before hanging up the phone, before I slipped back into slumber I sent Jake one more text.

‘You wake me up at one in the morning again and it’s over for you.’ in which he responded with ‘Oh no I’m so scared lol.’

I reached over to the bedside table and plugged my phone in before the sweet embrace of warmth and slumber took over my senses.

The next three days I was bombarded with texts from Paul whining about the wolf mind link and how every patrol shift he had with Embry was spent tuning out his constant thoughts of me.

Standing in the shower with hot water running over my skin soothing my tense muscles I heard my phone buzz against the granite countertop. I rolled my eyes and continued to bask in the endless hotel hot water.

As bad as staying in hotels could be, the hot water made up for the early breakfast and sheets that were tucked in a little too tightly.

I had shampoo in my hair when my phone started buzzing again, this time with a call. I grumbled under the stream of water washing away the soap before it could get in my eyes; whoever's calling can wait.

I moved on to conditioning my hair, letting it sit while I wash the rest of my body with a lightly scented lavender soap.

I refused to use the complimentary soap because it dried out my skin and the lotion just left me feeling sticky instead of moisturized.

Watching the soap run down the drain my phone rang again, I clenched my fists, who could possibly be calling me now? I still refused to get out of my steamy heaven to answer my phone.

My gut told me that whoever was calling wouldn’t let up until I answered. I washed out the conditioner from my hair and wrapped it in a towel.

The mirror was coated in a layer of steam, the tiles were cool against my feet. I wrapped the plush towel around my body, mopping up the droplets of water that remained.

My phone started vibrating with rapid fire text messages from the pack’s group chat they made a month ago. I sighed, picking it up to sift through the messages. I read a message from Jared telling me he’d pay me to return.

The pack always made me laugh, together they’re a walking sitcom. There is never a dull moment with them, someone always had something witty or sarcastic to say.

I checked to see who had called me and it turned out it was Sam, I listened to his voice mails and immediately phoned him back.

As soon as I hit the call button it only rang for half a second before he picked up.

“Thank you for calling back, I thought I’d have to call two more times.” he chuckled.

“Well I was in the middle of a shower, can’t really take a call there.” I moved through the room with my phone pressed between my shoulder and cheek. Stopping at my suitcase to pick out what I was going to wear for the day.

“I’m going to be frank with you, I need you to come home. . .” I let out a huff before he continued.

“Embry needs you badly, he’s just a pile of mush on the floor now. It’s a chore to get him up to go on patrol. Please?”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can do Sam, I’ll try to book a flight for the earliest date I can find.” I knew I was giving in but from what they were telling me and the constant texts were getting to be difficult to manage.

“Thank you, when you get back I’ll buy you take out for a month okay?”

“I hate that you know what my weakness is.” I laughed through the phone, a month of free take out? Hell yeah. It made the prospect of going back a little brighter since I wasn’t going to complete the rest of my trip.

I wasn’t losing out on too much though, I had seen and done everything that I wanted. It wouldn’t be too bad to go home early.

We talked for a couple more minutes before parting ways, I threw my phone on the bed and watched it bounce a couple times before turning my attention back to getting dressed. Since I had a flight to book it was okay to spend the rest of the day lounging in pj’s.

The soft fabric of my pj’s brushed against my skin as I jumped into bed with my computer in hand, and now it was time to book a flight back home. Maybe text Paul and tell him he can quit complaining as well.

I woke up the next morning with my flight booked for take off in the afternoon and my daily good morning text from Embry. I felt a little sad to be leaving such a beautiful country but the trees, ocean and Embry all called my name.

Pacing through the room I grabbed the comfiest set of clothes I packed for my return flight back to Seattle, I had enough time to sleep on the plane to be conscious enough for the three and a half hour drive back to La Push.

I was set for a long day ahead of me but it was going to be worth it in the end, seeing the bright and happy face of my boyfriend, getting to hug him and kiss him again.

I made one last check of the room before I gathered my clothes and toiletry kit and made my way into the bathroom to shower before my long flight. As I was stepping into the shower my phone pinged from the counter with a text from Sam.

“Have you booked that flight yet?” it read.

“Yeah I’m due for take off at 1. I should be back in La Push some time tomorrow!”

My fingers brushed the cool surface of the counter top as I put my phone back and got into the shower, hot water immediately running down my back; this time my phone wasn’t being blown up by a desperate wolf pack trying to get my attention.

I can’t sit in the shower for hours on end this time, I have a flight to catch and a boy to surprise. Embry was currently still under the impression that I would be coming home in two weeks. Boy would he be in for a surprise.

The residual steam wafted out of the bathroom while I brushed my teeth revealing my towel wrapped body and hair in the mirror behind the skin. I checked the time and noted that I had two hours to check out, make my way to the airport, and check into my flight back home. Two more hours before I could smell the trees and ocean, two more hours before I could see my friends and hug Embry.

The time managed to move by in a blur by the time I was shutting the trunk of the yellow cab that was going to drop me off at the airport. I got into the back seat and the driver peeled away from the hotel front onto the winding roads.

“Aye where are you headin’?” The driver inquired in a thick Irish accent.

One thing I noticed in my stay here was that the accent changed in every town or village I passed through. It added to the charm

“Well, I’m on my way home after spending six months in Europe.” My eyes scanned over the green hills that rushed past in a blur.

“My favourite places I’ve been have definitely been Ireland and Greece.” I smiled towards him.

The lines around his eyes crinkled with the smile that graced his face at the mention of Ireland.

“Well that’s good to hear innit? Glad you’ve enjoyed your stay. We welcome ya with open arms if you return.”

We held a light conversation until we arrived in front of the drop off area for passengers, thanked him and grabbed my bags before heading into the crowded lobby.

The front of the terminal was metal and glass that reached towards the heavens with automatic doors gaping open like a mouth. Inside was a dull white with light grey floor which my shoes clicked against with each step.

It was packed with people like a can of sardines, I weaved my way through the masses towards the check in desk which thankfully only had a short line to get through.

Under the mix of fluorescents and natural light the desk lady’s bags that donned under her eyes glared with visible exhaustion from the mass amounts of people that swarmed the terminal.

Despite her clear drowsiness she still greeted me with a warm smile and a soft hello.

I grabbed my ticket and thanked her then turned and pushed myself through to the security check, dropped my luggage off and took a seat to wait for the boarding call for my flight.

As I waited grey clouds started to fill the sky blocking out the little sun that was once shining in its place.

My eyes grew heavier by each minute that passed, waiting could be hard, but waiting in an airport where there’s no sense of time is worse. So I distracted myself by people watching.

A lady was bouncing her baby, the old man across from me was snoring. A businessman paced back and forth speaking urgently into his phone, a family chatted excitedly for their family trip to the Canary Islands.

I pulled my eyes away from them as the call for my flight rang out over the crowded terminal, grabbing my suitcase and making my way towards the gate.

Excitement filled my every step as the anticipation grew and bubbled inside me. I gave the greeting flight attendant a small smile and made my way to my seat, for being last minute I managed to get a window seat.

We sat on the tarmac for twenty minutes before taking off and before I knew it the seat belt light pinged off and I was fast asleep jet setting my way back to America, back to my home.

I couldn’t tell what time it was when I woke up but the clock on the tv screen said 2 a.m. and that we’re due to arrive in an hour. I sat up in my seat and gazed out the window into the starry night sky.

Energy started to course through me as I watched the arrival time tick closer and closer. A light rain misted down over Seattle as I left the Seatac terminal and made my way through the maze of cars in the night that was made darker by the rain.

I spotted my blue Subaru and popped the trunk so my interior and seats wouldn’t get wet. It had been a long six months since I last sat in my driver's seat, the wheel almost felt foreign in my hands as I turned the key and listened to the engine roar to life.

I drove through the winding roads of the city to the Seattle-Bainbridge Ferry to take the 45 minute ride into Bainbridge and headed North to get on the 101 then turn onto 110 which would take me back into the heart of La Push.

The closer I got to Forks the brighter the sky became; well as bright as it could be on a gloomy day. The clouds became painted in the glow of purple and pink as the sun rose over the horizon, the rain had let up and left me with an overcast sky for the remainder of the drive back.

Since I slept virtually the entire flight back I didn’t feel the weight of exhaustion at all, but surely when I arrived back in the arms of Embry I knew I’d hit the wall with sleep deprivation.

As I barreled through the corridor of trees I passed the signature ‘welcome to Forks’ sign and turned right onto the 110, twenty minutes to home. I was so close but my soul felt like it was light years away.

The clock on my radio told me that it was currently 6:45, the pinks and purples that coated the sky faded away to the typical grey that fills my senses with delight. Sea salt and washed up kelp started to seep into the air that circulated into my car making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Closer to Beach Drive I got the stronger the smell of the ocean became. The turn signal clicked as I turned onto the road that gave way to Sam and Emily’s house so they could take me over to Embry’s in the off chance that he happened to be awake at this hour.

It’s highly unlikely that he would be up at this hour but it’s not something I could be one hundred percent positive about. I stepped out of my car and turned around to see Emily running as fast as she possibly could towards me with open arms and a huge smile plastered across her face.

Dropping my bags I dashed across their lawn into her embrace.

“Oh (y/n)! I missed you so much, you must be so tired.” She released me from her hug and settled her hands on my shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I missed you too Emily, I knew I’d be tired but not this tired.” I chuckled while wiping at my under eyes in a feeble attempt to wipe away the exhaustion.

She put her hand on my lower back and led me inside for the awaiting cup of tea while Sam moved my bags into his truck.

The warmth of their home embraced me, the comfort of their kitchen was familiar. The only thing missing was the rowdy group of boys that made up the pack who usually occupied every available seat in the home.

I took a seat at the kitchen table where three cups of tea sat waiting, I should have expected a q and a when I returned. Wrapping my hands around the mug the warmth that radiated from it filled my hands.

Emily took a seat beside me and Sam entered through the door and sat adjacent to both of us.

“So how was the trip?” We sat around their table chatting until our cups were empty and filed out of the house into the early morning air.

“Emily and I will drive your car back to your place after I drop you off at Embry’s, the kid’s been sleeping in my living room more often than I’d appreciate.” Sam’s eyes crinkled with a smile, I knew he was joking but at the same time there was truth to his words; and honestly I couldn’t blame him.

“Thank you for putting up with him while I was gone, I owe you guys one and you owe me take out for a month.” He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair turning into the Call's driveway. Embry’s mom had already left for work leaving him to his own devices; which meant he would sleep in as late as his heart desired.

We got out of Sam’s truck and he dropped my bags on the doorstep. I turned and gave him a quick hug and a thank you before sticking my key into the lock.

The door creaked open and I dragged my suitcases to a stop in their front entry way and shut it behind me.

My shoes landed on the floor with a soft thud and I gingerly walked up the stairs to ensure I wasn’t too noisy while making sure to avoid the one squeaky stair.

I got to the top of the stairs and hung a left down their light beige hallway that gave way to the oak door that guarded Embry’s room. His soft snores filtered through the door, it’s door knob was cool in my hand. Making an audible click with the turn of my wrist.

Dark mahogany brown hair peaked up from beneath the sheet that tucked Embry’s body out of view. One pillow was on the floor while the other was tucked firmly between his cheek and arm, I smiled at the sight of my sleeping boyfriend which filled my every inch with the utmost joy.

My sock covered feet pressed into the carpeted flooring with each step I took towards his bed making sure to step over the piles of dirty clothes that were scattered around the room.

The sun filtered through the gaps in the window blinds casting pools of golden light on the floor and along his walls causing the crystal prism that hung above his closet to sweep dashes of colour across his walls.

I pulled back the grey top sheet to reveal his peaceful face and I swear my heart was going to burst with the amount of love that I feel for him. His hair was tousled in every direction and a cow lick stuck straight up on the left side of his head.

My hands ran over his hair, smoothing it out while I whispered his name. Embry groaned a bit and rolled over, I whispered his name a little bit louder and moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders running them along his arms finally waking him from his slumber.

“Hi Em!” I gushed out as his brown eyes opened and focused on me. His face split with his toothy smile and his arms shot around me, pulling me down into his chest.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” Embry mumbled into my hair.

“I figured a lot with the amount of texts I got from the pack.” I reached up brushing the hair from his face.

“You can never leave me for that long again. . .I didn’t know what to do without you here.” He ran his hands through my hair placing a gentle kiss upon the top of my head.

“I was so worried about you. I couldn’t protect you and make sure you were safe.”

“Well next time I’ll make sure you can come, then you don’t have to worry.” Craning my neck up I placed a kiss upon his lips which were still a bit swollen from slumber.

“The important thing is that I returned safe and in one piece. The other important thing is I get to spoil you with the gifts I brought back!”

His laugh filled the room sending vibrations through my body.

“Hey! That’s my job to spoil you, not the other way around.” He ruffled my hair causing us both to laugh. I peeled off my socks and wiggled my way under his blanket.

“I think it’s time we catch up on six months worth of cuddling.” I poked a finger into his side.

“Yeah I think that’s a good idea, you owe me for being gone so long.”

“What? I came back early!” His hands made their way under my shirt to rest on the bare skin of my back sending waves of heat through my body from being pressed into him. Oh how I missed my heater.

“Yeah, by like what? Two weeks?” his silky voice chuckled out.

“I missed you Embry.” I told him, placing a kiss on his exposed shoulder.

“I missed you too. Now let's go back to sleep, you look tired.” He said to me as he rested his chin atop my head and pulling me closer.

#embry call imagine #embry call x reader #twilight wolves #twilight wolf pack #twilight renaissance #twilight revival #twilight saga #wolf pack #embry call #jared cameron #jacob black #sam uley #paul lahote #quil ateara #seth clearwater #leah clearwater

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gemma-collins-ily · 3 years

Note

Hi, sorry to bother you but could I request a possessive/jealous kaz x female reader please? If you do it and it's not a bother please tag me in it

Keep You Smiling

Kaz Brekker X Reader

a/n - ooh, bit of angst, bit of fluff! Not sure yet if this will be headcanons or not!

Warnings: jealousy, flirting and generally horrible people I guess.

Tagged: @mrs-brekker15 @melody13522

The Bastard of the Barrel had lost everything he ever owned and built up an empire from the ashes.

The only thing he had was you and the Crows.

He may have acted as though he detested them but he did truly care for them. He just had an extraordinarily disconnected way of showing it and little to no tolerance of Jesper's antics.

So naturally, when you got together, he was especially overprotective and possessive. It was partly to make up for the lack of physical touch in your relationship, to show he did truly care and mainly because he couldn't help it.

Kaz often found himself surprised at the urge to bring you close and wrap an arm around your waist when he was jealous. He wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to gloat that you were his without saying it, if he felt the need to protect you or to just have a reason. A reason to touch.

Because, the truth was, Kaz always had the desire to pull you into his side or reach out to you. However, he would never give in to those thoughts.

Because he couldn't give you false hope.

Hope for a future in which he could be normal. Take your hand without shuddering, care for you with touch naturally and cup your cheek without being repulsed.

He wanted to connect: the only thing was, Kaz was so certain he would flinch and compare you to that of his past.

He was also so stiff - he didn't flirt and if he attempted to it ended quite badly for both parties involved.

Subsequently, when Kaz saw someone else flirt with you and do something he knew he couldn't, he would step in.

Unless it was Jesper. Because the root of his jealousy came from distrust, not of you, but of the person you were having a conversation with.

And he did trust Jesper. Plus the sharpshooter knew he shouldn't mess with you, even if he didn't, he would never. The reason he wouldn't was that you were the one for Kaz and Jesper had the opinion that Kaz deserved you after all he'd been through.

Inej and Nina also shared that very strong opinion and if someone disagreed, they would probably attack them brutally.

And it was a very real possibility they would collectively murder them brutally too.

They saw the way he looked at you, even before you were together and they identified it as the same look Matthias gave Nina or Jesper gave Wylan.

It was love.

Kaz's eyes always held such adoration and wonder when he saw you. The adoration, simply because you put up with his moods or rages, you barely shed a tear when he took his lashed out at you.

In fact, you stood up for yourself. Made him realise he was in the wrong.

The wonder was because you were so innocent, sometimes child-like and it wasn't just a show. He remembered when he had been bewildered and slightly concerned for your mental well-being several times.

His lips lifted just thinking of it.

Kaz came downstairs to see what the cacophony of noise and giggles was about. He stopped his descent on the stairs after he saw you and Nina pulling on wellies at the bottom.

"You know one fantastic thing about fuzzy socks?"

Jesper shook his head and asked you what you meant with a twinkle in his eyes.

"You can slide along floors with them!"

Halfway through your sentence, you had erupted into laughter again and by the end, you were almost rolling around on the floor. It was as though you had told the funniest joke known to man and the others joined in, seeing you with such mirth lifting their spirits further.

You rotated on your heel as you stood to see him standing, seemingly completely unsure of if you were mad. You giggled again.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside, duh."

"It's raining and freezing, don't be so idiotic." He was trying to keep the concern out of his voice and act as though he couldn't care less what you did.

"Uh huh, sure, but I won't be cold if..."

You trailed off as you made grabby hands at his coat and he sighed deeply. He removed it and tossed it your way, making sure to hit you slightly in the arm with it, where he knew it wouldn't really hurt.

The others gaped in confusion but you only skipped through the door, into the rain outside.

Wylan was the first to get over his shock and smiled at Kaz. In return he received a scowl but he knew it was better than an emotionless expression. It meant he was having to repress a grin, or smirk at least.

The Crows followed you out of the door, while Jesper had to be dragged along by his boyfriend, who was mumbling about how overdramatic the sharpshooter could be.

A minute later, he looked outside to see you jumping in puddles and having splash fights, running your fingertips through the water and flicking them towards others.

Kaz opened the door and stuck his head out into the rain.

"(Y/N)," he yelled and carried on when he had your attention, "Pop the coat collar up, would you? If you're going to be stupid, try not to catch a cold!"

You smiled at his concealed concern and saluted, shouting a quick, "Will do! Sir, yes Sir!" just as an army soldier would.

He ducked inside and leant against the wall as he felt his lips quirking upwards. The door blew shut with the wind and he returned to the window to observe the blissful, innocent joy that looked so beautiful painted on your features.

An example of one of the times he would invite himself to the conversation, happened as you chatted away with the bartender of the evening.

She was pretty and multitasking, cleaning glasses as she talked with you, slipping in small compliments here and there.

The thing was, you were completely oblivious to when others would throw a flirtatious remark your way. You never even thought they were doing anything except being friendly.

Kaz had realised this in the past after he had observed you deflect compliments for your eyes, smile and hair, returning the admiration.

You only wanted to make the gloomy citizens of Ketterdam have brighter days by making them feel good about themselves and you weren't trying to flirt back - only be kind.

Kaz noticed the sparkle in the girl's eyes, the slight malicious glint that revealed her intentions. He stood, grunting as he took his first step after sitting for so long and marched over.

He then took things into his own hands. He greeted her in a clearly false tone, one that mirrored how close he was to snapping. The server gulped and he smirked as she looked down.

"Hiya Kaz, we were just having a nice talk. Did you know, she thinks my hair is lovely long?"

Once more, you were not trying to flatter yourself, only telling him of what had been said.

The woman almost lurched over the bar counter to get you to hush but he had heard enough.

"Oh did she now?"

He moved his burning stare to the woman and said tauntingly, "I do agree, that my girlfriend's hair is, in fact, stunning. Now, why don't you go and serve that pigeon that looks so inviting waiting for his drink."

She opened her mouth and his voice didn't even try to cloak his loathing of her as he snarled.

"Go and do what you were paid to do."

She scurried off and your face dropped. He had been trying to be polite, knowing you had no clue of her pursuance of you. Now you had recognised the poisonous animosity in his speech, you realised she had only wanted to have a quick fling.

Kaz noticed how your shoulders slumped and the prickling of guilt started to poke at his heart. He nudged your foot with his cane and you looked up to him, your eyes swimming with unshed tears.

He walked up the stairs to his office and once you had entered behind him, he closed the door gently.

"I thought she just wanted to be friends."

You were so upset because you yearned to have someone other than the Crows, who wasn't just trying to get in your pants, to strike up a conversation with.

"I know love. One day you'll find someone who will adore you as a friend."

Your gaze was still cast downward and it was obvious you did not believe him.

"Hey, hey, look at me. Jesper loves being your friend, so do Inej and Nina. If they exist, others like them must too."

He was making sure to lock eyes with you, letting you know he was absolutely sincere and you nodded, wiped your tears and squared your shoulders.

"There she is." he said gently.

Then suddenly, you remembered how he had shifted a little before you downstairs. Maybe it was to protect you or maybe, just maybe, he had been jealous. You laughed at the thought.

"What?"

"Were you... Jealous?"

He stuttered through his next unintelligible phrase then said in return, "Who wouldn't want to keep you to themselves?"

You flushed and he smiled.

"I'm glad you're giggling again."

He was teasing you, however there was an underlying note of sincerity lining his words.

He would keep protecting you and he would keep you smiling.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fic #kazzle dazzle #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic

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tastyykpop · 3 years

Note

jeno extra filthy degradation please 😭

ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ

Pairings: jeno x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: dom/sub themes, degradation, brat!reader, brat tamer!jeno, spanking, fingering, eating out, overstimulation

you were annoying

that was as simple as jeno could make it. he found you absolutely insufferable. and the countless of times you've opened your mouth to make a stupid comment was like nails on a chalkboard.

sure you were pretty and kind to others but not very much to him. you were rude, cocky, and persistent, it was your way of getting his attention. and to say it worked was an understatement, you were on jenos mind 24/7. no matter where, when, or who he was with, he could only think about you. of course, you were the same, but that's because you've had a crush on him since trainee days and almost everyone in SM knew.

jeno knew.

since you worked at SM as a stylist, it was easy to get closer to jeno and work your magic everyday. you were blatant with every touch, every shameless sentence that entailed more then it should, he couldn't quite ignore it either or tell you to shut up. seriously, it doesn't work.

you're a brat, he would say to himself, nothing more than a brat that doesn't know her place.

which in this case, he was correct.

but to him, your behavior was easy to change. he's noticed how you've drawn blanks when he interrogates you on your behavior, how you downplay your wrongs to see him try and hold back his longing to make you submit. it was a game to you clearly, but jeno wanted to beat it.

so how did you end up under jeno so soon in the practice room?

well, the group had been preparing for a dance practice video and you and a few other stylists were called in to help get them prepare for the camera. jeno was trying his best to stay low and out of your sight. it didn't work, but it was worth a shot.

"happy to see me?"

jenos eyes rolled, "I'd be happy if I saw death staring at me in the eyes." he began walking away until you grabbed his arm, making him put his hands over his face.

"dont be like that." you push his hands away now seeing jenos annoyed face. "be lucky you're not stuck with someone else. at least I make your life more interesting.

"interesting or frustrating? I think you've got your words mixed up."

you began applying a light foundation on jenos skin, taking in his angelic features before realizing what he said, "impactful I must say. I know you love me, jeno."

jeno makes a face in disgust pushing your hand away from his face, "youre not my type."

"I dont know. chenle told me otherwise...."

"youre a brat."

"and you're close-minded."

"close- you-"

"done. now go dance and make some fangirls or boys scream." you don't bother turning around as you walk towards the back of the dance practice out of the cameras view.

jeno, somewhat red in the face, stood in his starting position for the choreography, you couldnt help but stare at him in awe. hes gorgeous, you can't lie about that. and the way he moved once the music started playing made you feel different. maybe it was your crush on him, but you heated up very quickly while watching him. other staff members weren't paying as close attention on the boys as you were, only their phones caught their mind. you didn't mind, but damn did they not see how hot jeno was when dancing?

sweaty and out of breath, the boys took a break to get a drink of water.

"you did well- you all did actually." handing jeno a bottle of water, he stared between the thing in your hand and you before taking it and chugging the whole bottle. "but I think mark was the one who stood out to me the most."

"what?"

"mhm. mark was very fluid in his footsteps and his movements were clean and precise. a good dancer I must say."

there's something up. you were staring at him the whole time and he knew it, he danced harder just because you were watching. how could you have seen mark when all you did was stare at jeno?

"and hes cute too. surely he's got a bunch of girls and boys ready to throw themselves at him. I would too, he's absolutely perfect."

jeno balled his fist. what game are you trying to play? "you're testing me." he may not like you, or maybe he did, but something about you talking about someone else like that sparked jealousy in him.

"good. maybe you'll do something about it." you put a hand on his chest, jenos heart pounding fast as you came closer and whispered, "I bet you won't. all bark no bite. pathetic if you ask me."

"youre gonna regret your words if you keep speaking."

"oh really," you leaned back, his eyes pierced your curious ones with a sense of fury and annoyance, "and what are you gonna do? spank me?"

just like that jeno pulled you out of the room and into another practice room. he pulled a chair out from the corner and pulled you over his knee.

"jeno, I was just kid-"

he spanked you hard over and over and over again as you wailed and wrapped a tight hand around jenos ankle for support. each spank was painful and to the point unbearable, yet jeno didn't back down. not after he felt he could break you now.

each time his hand made contact with your ass, felt like he was letting loose all the pent up anger you caused him over the past months you've been working here. for him, it was hell. no matter what people would say to you about him did not dictate his feelings about you. right now, he hated you and needed to let that burning passion out by spanking you. jeno wanted you to feel the hell he endured when around you. sure enough, you were feeling it, crying and sobbing on his thigh like an idiot.

you didn't fight back even though you proposed that you hated it. your body seemed to like it more then you thought.

"youre a pest!" he landed another hard hit, "an annoying pest who needs to learn when to shut the fuck up. now apologize."

"no!" you winced at another hit, squirming- no more like trying to grind on his lap because of how painfully wet you've become in just minutes.

"apologize." he repeated.

"you're- you're an idiot if you think I'll give up!"

jeno stripped you of your pants and panties, "its cute listening to little sluts like you thinking they have power over someone much stronger then them. it must be tiring thinking youre charge." he taunted before spanking you again, this time the impact was far greater and almost caused you to scream before jeno clasped a hand over your mouth. with the same hand, he pushed you off his lap and on the floor, leaving your lower half bare for him to see.

you were a pretty sight, a mess to say the least, but jeno loved that. finally seeing you disheveled with tears leaking down your cheeks, he thought of you as his little crybaby. he tried his hardest not to take a picture.

"don't think I didnt notice how your wet cunt leaked all over my thigh" he began, "do you really get off to being put in your place, slut? is that why we're here right now?"

"d-dont be so full of y-yourself."

"oh? but your dripping all over the practice floor, how could i not." jenos lips were close to your heat, teasing you with his eyes and tongue as he glided it just above where you wanted him.

you had nothing to say, yet your eyes told him everything. told him just how you'd defy him any chance youd get only to make him more upset. it wouldn't be fun if your goal wasn't to piss him off.

jeno kept his tongue away from your most needed area, his lips kissing anything but your dripping heat as you bucked your hips into his face. jenos hands would push your hips down and back his face away frowning at your behavior and returning to what he was previously doing. you weren't done though, since he was holding your hips, you grabbed his hair and forced his head where you needed him. his tongue inside you was far from good, it was amazing. and though you realized jeno wasn't pushing your hand away, you pushed and pulled his hair as you kept his head in place so he couldn't stop.

the long strides and the smooth rhythm he had was enough to make you arch against the floor, gasping and calling out his name far to loudly for his liking. but with watchful eyes and a steady tongue, he shamelessly enjoyed it yet he had to be aware of the people in the building. one loud moan and someone would sure walk in to see what's up.

so jeno swatted your hand away from his head and lifted up with a frown. he liked the frightened look on your face as he leaned closer and closer, "if you're this much of a slut for people to hear us, we might as well have just stayed where everyone else was."

"thats hot." you stated blankly, jenos eyebrow raised before realizing how far gone you practically were, with how big and dilated your eyes are. "w-wait no! I'll stay quiet I promise."

"No you wont." jeno got up and grabbed your underwear that layed on the floor, then shoved it in your mouth allowing you to taste yourself. "stay quiet, fucktoy."

"fucktoy?- oh fuck!" you mumbled into your panties as his fingers protruded inside you. at least you were quieter this time.

"tell me when youre about to cum." he said just above a whisper as he watched you slip further and further into bliss. the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each skillful thrust from jenos fingers made his cock grow harder each second. you were so hot, so damn beautiful as you moaned into the panties like a little bitch. jeno loved it too much to say he hated you.

"feels good- f-feels so good, j-jeno." you said quietly into the panties. it was getting harder and harder for you to keep silent as he began rubbing your clit like a desperate man, hungry for your cum. but you did your best keeping low.

you grinded against on his hand, inching closer and closer to what you believed to be your orgasm. clentching tightly around jenos fingers you gasped and spat your panties out, "jeno! i-im gonna-

"cum, fucktoy." he insisted, never removing his fingers from your wet hole as a white substance spilled out. he kept going, in and out, in and out as you clamped a hand over your mouth. so much sensitivity and his fingers were still going.

"stop i-i can't take it!" you found his wrist and tightly held it as you attempted to pull him out.

"youre gonna take this like a good bitch until I want to stop." he said right as your second orgasm washed through you.

too much. you could barely think straight and even tried pulling your hips back but his fingers followed.

too sensitive. you could barely breathe because of the overwhelming sensitivity. yet in a twisted way, it felt good in a strange way. maybe it was the pain of cumming over and over or how jeno worked his fingers. either way, you could feel another one building up.

"please, please, please." you cried hoping for the end, but there was no way jeno was stopping.

"apologize and this will be your last one." He stuck his fingers deeper, if that were possible, and watched you squirm trying to find words to say, but all that came out was drool. "disgusting whore." you slapped him in the face for that.

"I-i am not sor-sorry!"

"im not playing these games anymore. say you're sorry."

jeno growled, deeper and deeper he went and faster and faster he goes before your third orgasm of the day came. your legs shook and your grip got tighter but still to no avail did he stop.

you were very persistent on making jeno angry before, but now you seemed to have started rethinking that apology. "im sorry."

"for?"

"for being rude to you!" you legs shook again and that feeling in your stomach was back, "i-im sorry jeno, but p-please I can't take it!"

he did it. he broke you. and with that he finally pulled his fingers away letting all your cum out.

you cried softly, still a shaking mess from the orgasms and jeno, well he didn't care all too much but he knew he probably shouldn't be too harsh with you about now. so he gently took you in his arms, sitting your bare bottom right on his lap as he rocked you slowly.

"im never leaving after this." you say slowly, "and I know you don't hate me either, I can feel your boner against my ass."

jeno pinches your arm and shushes you. god, you were a pest and maybe youre right. maybe he doesn't hate you like he proclaimed he did. maybe he did enjoy this session in the practice room, but he won't ever say it. not because he's afraid to admit it, but because he doesn't want you to rub it in his face.

#nct #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #jeno #lee jeno #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #ask #anon

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature

Category: Fluff and Smut

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?)

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think! masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

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I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Dr Reid #Spencer reid fic #Spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid fics #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Text

Night Changes

This isn't based on an ask, but I've had some early-Cap ideas brewing and think about the first time the team heard him laugh a lot. His and James' friendship is so sweet in SW--the beginning of it must have been such a shock to them both. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

So maybe James had bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, but coaxing (read: drag kicking and screaming) his new teammate out of the carefully-constructed mosaic of scowls that made up his entire personality was proving to be a little more challenging than he previously expected. With most rookies, all it took was some elbow grease and overenthusiastic inclusion in group events to get them to open up—with his brand-new soon-to-be best friend, he had to handle things a little more delicately.

Sirius Black was a puzzle wrapped up in one of those freaky code-breaking machines from World War Two Lily liked to talk about. He was one of the best hockey players James had ever seen, but off the ice he seemed to shut down. The intense focus on his face smoothed out into almost perfect neutrality, and in the four months since he joined the Lions, he had never once smiled for real in front of the team. He sat in his stall and padded up in silence, then went out and kicked ass before following Pascal home like a living shadow.

Naturally, James took it as a personal mission to pry Sirius Black’s closed-off persona open like a stubborn oyster. He tried including Sirius in group events—the rookie went along with a quiet “yeah, sure”, but sat at the table and nursed a single drink for the entire night. He tried getting into friendly banter with him on the ice, but it was like Sirius had never joked with anyone in his life. Hell, he even tried finding him a girlfriend, which tanked harder than the goddamn Titanic.

“Rookie!” James shouted down the hallway.

Sirius jumped and turned around, obviously confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” James laughed, jogging over to toss an arm over his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He waited for Sirius to continue, then rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly shake. “C’mon, man, how was your weekend? Has Dumo coerced you into being a stay-at-home babysitter yet?”

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What? I come with him to practice every day.”

Change tactics, change tactics— “Got any plans for Friday?”

James knew the answer, of course; it was always no or not yet or a simple shake of the head. If he was a less observant man, he would have assumed Sirius didn’t actually want to hang out with the team. But the longing looks toward their easy rhythm and the way he always tilted himself toward locker room conversations told a different story. “None yet,” Sirius said with a shrug.

James gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Good, ‘cause I’m having a party at my place and you’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be there, duh.” The bewilderment didn’t fade from Sirius’ face, but beneath it—well, maybe James was just seeing things, but he looked almost hopeful. He ruffled Sirius’ hair and headed for the locker room. “Friday at five, rookie! I’ll be waiting!”

The week passed in a slog of practices and cold weather. Sirius clammed up more and more as the party drew closer, but James didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between the rest of them like he was analyzing a play. He would make one hell of a captain someday, if he could just relax a little.

“Hey, rookie, want a ride?” he asked when the big day finally arrived.

“Don’t you want to go home and set up first?” Sirius’ brow furrowed. For an eighteen-year-old kid, he was awfully thoughtful. James couldn’t wait to see him let loose a little. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” he teased, poking the bit of exposed shoulder through the widening hole in Sirius’ under armor.

“I…” He faltered, then the corner of his mouth twitched up. It was the closest thing James had seen to a smile from him yet. One point for Potter. “Sure, Pots. Thanks.”

“No problem. Meet me at my car in five or so, yeah?”

“D’accord.”

“Oho, fancy French,” James laughed, turning back to unlace his skates.

It wasn’t until thirty seconds after Sirius left the room that he remembered he never told the rookie what his car looked like. Horrible, terrible visions of the poor guy wandering around the parking lot—or, god forbid, thinking James had left without him—flashed through his mind. It would undo everything he had been working so hard to build.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath as he shoved his gear into his duffel with reckless abandon and hurried out of the locker room. His legs would be stiff from trying to run so soon after a grueling drill practice, but it was worth it to save his friend. “Rookie? Hey, Sirius, you still here?”

There was no response. James cursed again and made a beeline for the door to the parking lot. Please, God, don’t let him get lost. I need him to trust me.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he panted as he burst out onto the half-frozen concrete.

Sirius looked up from his phone with a strange expression. “Are you okay?”

“Thought I lost you for a sec.”

“You said to meet at your car, yes?” He glanced between James and the car in sudden worry.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, I just—” He made an aborted gesture and dug his keys out of his pocket. “I realized I forgot to tell you which one is mine.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I know what your car looks like.”

“How?”

“Because you drive it here every single day and you gave me a ride three weeks ago.”

‘Dumbass’ went unsaid, but James could feel it hanging in the air. He coughed lightly. “Right. Anyway, you can toss your bag wherever and hop in the passenger seat. My place isn’t far from here.”

Sirius took his duffel as he unlocked the car and settled both in the trunk with more care than James’ poor, battered bag had ever seen in its life. That was another thing that confused him about Sirius Black—he was so careful. He walked quietly for someone so tall, and each movement seemed pre-planned.

Each movement, that is, until he tried to get in the car. “Uh, Pots?”

“That’s m—oh.” James covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sirius tried to fold himself into the passenger seat and failed miserably. “I’m sorry, my girlfriend was sitting there last. Uh, there’s a lever on your right—yeah, there, just give it a pull and—”

With a harsh ka-chunk, the seat slid all the way back. Both men froze. It took everything in James’ power not to burst out laughing at the deer-in-headlights shock on Sirius’ face.

“Yep, that one,” he managed. “Nice job.”

They drove in relative quiet—James chattered on about weekend plans and hummed to the radio while Sirius watched out the window with the occasional monosyllable response. It took James a bit by surprise how comfortable he was, even without a steady stream of banter. Sirius might have been stubborn and silent and determined to foil all James’ plans at getting him to socialize, but he was calming to be near, like an anchor on unsteady water. Despite his overall quiet air, he was obviously paying attention to every word that left James’ mouth.

“You’re a good guy, y’know that?” he said as they turned onto his street. Sirius glanced over in surprise. “Most people tune me out within, like, five minutes.”

“I’m a good listener.”

James opened his mouth to respond, then paused. “Was that—Sirius Black, was that a joke?”

Something akin to mischief—mischief!—crossed his face. “Maybe.”

“Were you roasting me?” James gaped at him. “Oh my god. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

“Probably not.”

“You sick bastard. They won’t believe me.”

“You can give it a shot,” Sirius said with a shrug as the engine turned off. Pieces began to connect in James’ head as he stared, incredulous, at the rookie he thought would never even crack a smile. Four months of work had not been wasted, as he had feared; every joke, every one-sided conversation, and every attempt to get Sirius involved had been seen and heard and taken to heart. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sirius actively agree to something unless James asked personally.

“We’re friends,” he said aloud, too surprised and too happy to hold it in. Not friends in the way James was with the rest of their loud, over-the-top teammates, but friends all the same.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius said as if it was obvious.

James unbuckled his seatbelt and socked him lightly on the shoulder, barely suppressing a shriek of excitement. “Love you, man. Grab your shit, we’ve got a party to set up.”

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

As much as it pained James to say it, having someone around who was six-foot-three was a huge help. There was no blow to his pride as he dragged Lily’s stepstool out; no grudging acceptance that he simply couldn’t reach those last two inches on the wall. Instead, he could foist any and all responsibility on his brand-new best friend in the whole wide world and focus on the things that mattered, like putting anything breakable or important far away from the grubby hands of his inebriated teammates.

His success was still ringing in his ears when the guests finally arrived—throughout the evening, James rode the high of accomplishing his mission to pull Sirius Black into his tight-knit circle. Every minute of those four months was worth it.

Midnight came and went, and by one-thirty in the morning James’ cramped living room was packed with tipsy hockey players in a vague imitation of a circle. “Non, non, I’ve gotta good one,” Dumo said, hiccupping. The room fell quiet as he leaned forward. “What do you call a body of water with a chicken in it?”

“What?” Kasey whispered, starry-eyed like a kid at Christmas.

“A swimming pool.”

The room stayed quiet, and then someone started to laugh. Slowly, they all turned to the source of the noise, and James felt a ripple of shock roll through the team as Sirius snorted. “It’s a swimming pool,” he said around a smile, his accent thick from three drinks. He had a nice laugh; James could get used to hearing it. “Like—poule, like chicken?”

His whole face was alight with happiness. James wasn’t sure whether to cry or cheer. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, he thought. That look, right there. Sirius fit in among the group like a missing piece of their puzzle, snickering away as if he hadn’t been stoically silent a day in his life. His laugh was downright bubbly.

“I don’t think they get it,” Dumo said into the rim of his cup.

Sirius shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “D’accord, so—so ‘chicken’ in French is poule, yeah? So a chicken in a body of water is a swimming poule. Do you get it now?”

A few oh’s of understanding washed over them, but several people continued to stare. “Too drink for this,” Sergei grumbled, though James could see the smile pulling at his mouth as Sirius turned to him with bright eyes.

“But it’s funny!” Sirius protested, so earnest it made James’ heart hurt.

“I think it’s funny, rookie,” he assured him with a clumsy pat on the arm. “And it’s my house, so I say Dumo gets a point this round.”

Kasey hiccupped. “Hey, anyone who makes the rookie laugh gets points in my book. No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” Sirius said, though his cheeks were pink.

James nudged him with his shoulder as Talker started a knock-knock joke. “It’s okay,” he said under his breath.

Sirius picked at the label on his cup. “I know I haven’t been very social,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” James insisted. “It always takes rookies a while to warm up, so we’re just glad you’re happy. I’m glad my best friend is having a good time at my party.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Sirius looked over, eyebrows raised. “Best friend?”

“What, like you didn’t see this coming?” James slung an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you French-Canadian nerd, you’re my best friend. And that means I’m your best friend, and there’s no take-backsies.”

“What the hell is a take-backsie?” Sirius laughed. “Did you make that up?”

James grinned. He had the feeling this was the beginning of an excellent friendship.

#sirius black #james potter #pascal dumais #kasey winter #sergei ivanov #thomas walker #rookie #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #pre-cap #friendship

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enthusiasticharry · 3 years

Text

Lonely this Christmas

summary: you and Harry broke up earlier in the year, but at Columbia’s Christmas party you see each other again, and you both realise just how much you miss each other

author's note: ahhhh i don’t think i've ever been so excited to post one of my works as i am this one and i hope you all enjoy my baby. the reader in this is musician!yn and i have so many other ideas for the little story line, so if you'd like to hear them, please let me know!

word count: 11k of baso angst, really fluffy fluff and some of the best smut I think i’ve ever written. there’s deepthroating... face-sitting... really just the whole shebang.

masterlist | please speak to me about LTC here!

You truly believed that Christmas was the best time of the year.

You loved everything about the festive time of year. From decorating the house, to listening to the music. From spending time with your family, to cosying up on the sofa and watching Christmas films. It was a special time of year, where everyone seemed to relax and walk around with joyous looks on their faces because no matter the year they’d have, it was nearly over and it’s finally time to celebrate the best aspects of the time that had passed.

You found yourself thankful for the year, but also thankful that it was over. This year had been one of the best, but also one of the worst years of your life. The thing that caused the year to not be the best that it could was the split you had with your long-term boyfriend. It was messy, and absolutely heartbreaking on your side and because it was such a big part of the year, it became one of the memories that you wished to ignore but you found yourself struggling too. On a brighter side, you had won your first Brit award this year for Best New Artist. It was a turning point in your career, for certain.

One thing that you’ve never enjoyed about Christmas is parties. You would much rather stay within the walls of your own house and spend your evenings alone, but being in the industry that you are it becomes a little harder. The Columbia Christmas Party happen’s every year, but this was you first year signed to the Record Label, so the first year you had been invited. You were shocked to be invited, but found yourself to be excited and dreading the experience all at once.

The thing that you found yourself thinking and worrying about the most was what you were going to wear. You wanted to impress everyone there, since you had found this new stardom for yourself and you had created this name for yourself which you hadn’t had before. After consulting with your stylist, you settled on a custom Gucci dress that was made for you to wear specifically to this event. The dress itself was a Christmas-green velvet material, which landed to about your mid-thigh with a square neckline. Attached to the square straps of the neckline, were tulle sleeves of the same colour that bunched at your wrists. It hugged your curves perfectly and once you’d added your black scrappy heels you really felt beautiful. Your natural features are accentuated, and you, for the first time in a long time, feel beautiful within your own skin.

That all changed the second you walked into the party.

You felt as though all eyes were on you, as though everyone was watching every step that you took to see what you’d do. It made you feel uncomfortable and immediately feel as though the dress you are wearing wasn’t right, it was too short and you needed to cover up. You were maybe 98% certain that they weren’t thinking about what you were wearing, but more so who you’ve just clocked eyes with.

You knew he was going to be here, and you had prepared yourself for the inevitable, but seeing him stood there completely changed everything that you had prepared for. You both were signed to the same record label, years after the two of you had met though, so it was no surprise that he was sat at one of the tables with a group of people around him as he spoke and laughed at what they were all taking about.

You tried to ignore the pinch within your heart, but it was hard. You weren’t the one who broke it off, and if things had gone according to your plan, you would still be together right now.

You had met Harry a few years ago, when you had first moved to London and you were bar and pub hopping, singing and hoping that you’d somehow stumble upon someone who could help you start your career. It was completely by accident that you both had met, and looking back at it quite embarrassing on your part. You were in the middle of your set when he walked in, as well as Mitch and Sarah, but you hadn’t seen them at that point. You had recently learnt how to play Sign of the Times on the piano and you had purposely brought your small keyboard out with you so you could play the song. Looking back on it, you probably wouldn’t have sung the song if you did know that he was there, but you didn’t know so you sung it. It was a little shaky at the start due to your nerves about playing the song for the first time out of the comfort of your room but you quickly found your groove, and you finished strong. Harry had later told you that, after a little bit of teasing from Mitch and Sarah, he knew that from how in awe he was of you he just had to speak to you. He walked up to you whilst you were in the middle of throwing your celebratory shot back that you always take after finishing your set and the first thing you ever said to him was, “Fuck!”

You always thought that would be a story you’d be able to tell your grandchildren, and you both had even spoken about it, but it just hadn’t worked out.

He seemed okay, which you were happy about. His new album had just come out, and you don’t think you’ve ever cried at a record as you did at that one. You knew it was about you, it was hard not to. All of the little hints that he left throughout his songs would blow over anyone else head, but you knew the true meaning of them and you think that’s one of the reasons you found it so emotional. He was smiling as he spoke to the people, briefly taking sips of his drink every now and then, which was only water so you wondered whether he’d drove there. You both would be flying home soon, but this would be the first time in three years that you’d be flying home alone.

To stop yourself from crying, you quickly make you way over to the bar. After running your eyes over the cocktail menu, your eyes immediately pricked at the sight of one, and you could stop the words as they left your lips: “A cherry bomb fizz please.”

You watched as the bartender added a cherry and some maraschino liqueur, before topping the drink off with Champagne. The drink was quite sour, but you quite liked it. It caused your lips to purse and eyebrows to widen, in a good way you must add.

“Could never handle your alcohol, could you?”

You could feel him before you heard him, but you didn’t want to turn around. Why he felt it okay to come up and talk to you were unsure about, but at the same time you had been hoping that he would. Why you were hoping that he would you were also unsure about, but you’re certain it had something to do with the fact that you weren’t quite over him.

“I think you’re mistaken.” You say, taking another sip of your drink, “You were the one who could never handle your alcohol. And this is just sour.”

He hums, as though he isn’t believing a word that you say, “If you say so, love.”

“Love?” You say, raising your eyebrow at him whilst throwing back the rest of your drink, “Thought those days were well over.”

“Force of habit, ‘suppose.” He shrugs, “I have a few of them when it comes to you.”

“You grew out of them.” I shrug, “Can’t remember the last time you called me love whilst we were together.”

He drops his eyes to the counter, and you know you’ve done what you’re supposed to. This is the first time you’ve spoken to since you broke up, and you can’t believe that it’s at a Christmas party of all places. He also had the audacity to call you love, something that you couldn’t believe he had the balls to do. The last few months of your relationship you were lucky if he even looked at you, and here he now was calling you love as though it’s totally okay to do so.

“I’ll always call you love.” He says, lifting his eyes up from the counter to look at you once more, “I’ll always care about you.”

“Where was this five months ago?” You ask, unable to stop yourself.

Your break up, in your opinion, came out of nowhere. You knew something had changed in your relationship, since he hardy had the time for you at the end of your time together. He’d get up in the morning and wouldn’t touch, or even kiss you. Then, when he’d come home it would be the exact same thing, he’d slip into bed and to stop yourself from feeling as though you were going to cry, you’d pretend you were asleep and hope that you’d actually fall asleep. He never told you a reason for breaking up with you, apart from that he needed space and that he couldn’t be with you. That was probably the thing that hurt you the most. He broke up with you, but you never really had a real reason why.

“I just needed to leave.” He says, “That was my main focus.”

You try to ignore your heart breaking all over again but it’s hard to, when it’s the only thing you can think about.

“Why now?” You say, “Why are you doing this now?”

“YN—”

You shake your head, “I don’t think I want to hear it. I’m going to go.”

“Don’t—”

“—YN!” You feel an arm thrown around your shoulder, one that you immediately realise is Jeff once you register his voice and his face once you turn to him, “I haven’t seen you in months! How are you?”

You can immediately tell that he’s drunk. From the slight slurring of his words, to the smell of alcohol on his breath as he speaks. You’re just as shocked to see him as he is to see you.

“I’m good, Jeff, thanks.” You smile, at him, trying to push the conversation you’ve just had with his friend out of your mind, “How are you?”

“I’m drunk.” He laughs, squeezing your shoulder slightly, “But! I’s nice to see you two together again!”

The whole ignoring the situation doesn’t quite go to plan. Once he’s said those words you immediately draw your eyes towards Harry. You’ve never wanted to leave a conversation as much as you did this one. You look at Harry, but he isn’t looking at you.

He gasps, “You should come over to the table! We’re all here and it’ll just be like old times.”

“I couldn’t possibly. . .” You shake your head.

“You can!” He says, “Come on, I won’t take no for an answer! And H, hurry up with those drinks.”

Jeff walks you away from the bar and towards the table that you noticed earlier when you noticed Harry for the first time this evening. Glenne, Mitch and Sarah are there, as well as Kid and a few other producers that you recognise from working on Harry’s album, as well as a few songs from yours also. You knew that just because you and Harry broke up you couldn’t expect the friendships that had formed because of you two to just stop altogether.

“YN!” There’s a course of cheers and Sarah’s the first to stand up and wrap her arms around you. Out of everyone, Sarah was the person who you were closest with out of Harry’s band. She had joined Harry’s band after you and Harry had been dating for a year or so when Sarah joined the band, and you two instantly clicked and became the closest of friends. You had spoken a few times with her since you had broke up, but nothing compared to what you used to. You weren’t surprised though, she was Harry’s drummer first and your friend after — or that’s what you told yourself to make you feel slightly better.

“Hi.” You smile, dropping down into the spare seat next to Sarah. Words are thrown around the table of glee that you’re there, as well as questions as to why you haven’t been in contact. You know they’re drunk, and you suspect that is why they’re saying all of the things they are. You were quick to fall out of the conversation as it moved onto the show that they did the day prior to celebrate the release of Harry’s album. You suppose the reason your feelings were so heightened today was due to your hearing the album for the first time yesterday and then replaying it today.

It was completely different to Harry Styles but still so Harry. You hated how his music made your feel, the sad and the happy ones, as well as all in between. Harry returned to the table shorty after clutching drinks in his hands, and under his arms. Why he didn’t just make two trips, you would never know, but it’s lucky that all the drinks made it without any spillages.

“We were just talking about yesterday.” Glenne says, taking a sip of her drink as she does before turning towards you, “Have you heard the album, YN?”

“You don’t have too—” Harry turns to your briefly.

“I have.” You nod, “It’s good, a masterpiece even. You should be proud of it, H.”

You can see his shoulder tense, and from knowing him as well as you do, you wouldn’t be surprised if his heart just sunk to the bottom of his stomach. If you’ve listened to the album, it means that you’ve heard the song that Harry hoped you hadn’t.

“What would you say is your favourite?”

You look directly at him as you say the next words, and you hope he listens to them, “Probably Cherry.”

The other’s carry on talking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, but Harry doesn’t open his mouth again. He doesn’t stop looking at you though, and the way you look gorgeously defeated. A part of him wondered whether he was the one who caused you to be this way. About a month ago he asked some producers he knew that were working on your album with you how you are, and they said that you just seemed sad. It broke him to hear those words, just the words he had said to you all those months ago had broken you. Out of the blue, probably not but due to you not paying any attention, the group all move in, including you and Harry to have a reminiscent group photo.

He does open his mouth again when the group disperse to the dance floor, leaving the two of you all alone at the table.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t lift your eyes up from the end of the table cloth you’re messing with, an exasperated laugh leaving your lips, “What for? Breaking up with me? Taking everything from me? Or, I don’t know, using that in your song?”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“You thought I wouldn’t mind.” You shake your head, completely baffled at his words, “Why would you think that? I trusted you with that, and now it’s on the end of one of your songs.”

“I’m sorry about everything, but especially that.” He says, and you can tell he’s being genuine with the look in his eyes. He looks as though he’s about to cry.

“Why did you do it?” I asks, “You could’ve asked me. I would’ve said yes, I swear to you.”

“I was nervous.” He says, “We didn’t leave on the best of terms, and I felt as though asking would’ve have been the best.”

“So you decided to do it anyway?”

“Will you forgive me, please?” He asks, and you can tell his voice is about to break, “Please.”

“That’s it, Harry.” You say, “I don’t think I can.”

The next morning you awake with a slight hangover, which wasn’t surprising because once you’d left quickly after saying your last words to Harry, and opened a bottle of vodka that you had in your cupboard. That bottle now sits on your bedside table, three-quarters of it drunk and the cause of your hangover. You were thankful that you hadn’t gotten too drunk before you left the party, due to the wraths of paparazzi that were there as you left. You remember leaving with your head down, ignoring their calls and questions, as well as their their cameras flashed at you. You had gotten into your car, your driver had smiled at you and the second the car started moving away from the club you found yourself unable to stop the tears that streamed down your face.

This wasn’t the first time that you’d done this since you’ve broken up with Harry, but this was certainly the worse you’ve felt since you’ve done so. Your head had its own heartbeat, and you felt as though your were stable on your feet as you trudged towards the kitchen to have some orange juice, your remedy for your hangovers to say the least. It was always something that Harry thought ahead about when you were together. If he knew that the two of you were going out he’d always stock up the fridge. The amounts of time since that you’ve gotten drunk and not had any orange juice within the house is quite atrocious and he knew from experience that they never ended well.

You drink your first glass of the drink quickly, and pour your second one before making you way back into your bedroom. Due to the amount of time you spent in LA, you had purchased your second apartment here, your first being in London. It wasn’t the nicest ever, but it was good enough for you when you were here, and something that you were thankful to have when you woke up from nights like these.

You fall back down upon your bed and the first you think you pick up is your phone, shocked at the thousands of notifications your found on it. You’re still slightly asleep so you rub your eyes a few times before clicking upon the instagram app. The thousands of notifications are dm’s and comments upon your photos. After clicking through the notifications, you find the culprit sat with a lovely love heart emoji on Glenne’s story.

At some point that morning, probably whilst you were growing your sorrows away with vodka, she had posted the photo of you all on her story with the caption ‘the band’s back together,’ a heart emoji and tagged you in it. All the messages were asking whether you and Harry were back together again, not because you’d ever gone public with your relationship, but Harry had gone public with your breakup in his interview with the Rolling Stones and with Zane Lowe. He was very respectful in the way that he spoke about it, which was all you ask for. You hadn’t actively gone out to watch and read what he was saying, but your manager had warned you about them before you had done some interviews and you were curious to say the least what they were about.

In the photo you could tell that you and Harry were the only ones who were sober. Everyone else had drunken grins on their faces whilst you and Harry, to say the least, had very uncomfortable smiles across both of your lips. It annoyed you slightly that the two of you couldn’t even be in the same place anymore without having messages upon messages about whether or not you’re back together. Anyone with a brain could see that you certainly weren’t just by the expression on both of your faces.

You weren’t annoyed, or angry that the photo had been posted because you wouldn’t have taken the photo if you didn’t want it to be posted, but you did take the photo. You were always taking photos together before the breakup, and photo booths were you speciality. It’s another thing that you had hardly done since the breakup, so it was nice to see the photo but deep down a part of you wished that it hadn’t have been taken.

It’s all over all of the social media’s, and you decide that it’s probably best if you just put your phone down. You’re about place it on your bedside table when a notification pops up on the top of your screen, and without thinking, you tap on it, sending you straight to the messages app and to who had sent you the message.

Harry: YN?

Why he was sending you a message in the first place, you had no idea. Why he was messaging your so early in the morning was also something that confused you even more.

Harry: I know you’re reading this.

Harry: Your read receipts are on.

You curse yourself for being so click-happy when you see a notification, and more so for having your read receipts on because you know you can remove them but you don’t quite know how to. You contemplate for a few seconds what to say in your drunken, tired haze, before typing out the message:

YN: Can I help you?

His reply comes in a few seconds later.

Harry: Are you free?

YN: Why?

Harry: Meet me at Beachwood. Usual time.

YN: Why should I?

Harry: Just be there. Please.

YN: I will.

When you walk down the pavement towards the Beachwood Cafe, its as though you’re doing so without actually thinking about it. When you and Harry were together — this was your place. You can’t even remember the amount of dates the two of you have had here, tucked away in the corner whilst the music played, chatting away endlessly about things that popped into each of your minds. It got to the point that when you two were free, and managed to get to go, you had been that much that the waitresses knew your order by memory. The first time they had done it, you remember the way you both smiled sheepishly at each other and back at the waitress.

It was decorated for Christmas. You could see a tree in the corner of the cafe, as well as lights and tinsel across the windows. If you weren’t so nervous you probably would have smiled at the sight of it.

You push the door open and hear the familiar ding of a bell that rings whenever someone walks through, and you’re catapulted back to last year when you did the exact same thing but with a smile on your face from your excitement of seeing your boyfriend, one who you cared and loved very much.

The low hum of Mud’s Lonely this Christmas fills the room, very apt for the current situation and you’re guessing the mood of the conversation you’re about to have. It was late, close to closing time but you and Harry found that to be the best time to come, because hardly anybody else did.

He’s already sat at your usual table, the one in the corner because the two of you often liked to people watch. It had started off a silly game once when you were both tired and didn’t really want to talk about your lives, so you started brainstorming what other people’s were like. As much as you hated to admit it, Harry’s stories were always the better of the two of you but you didn’t mind, because you could little to the words he spoke to you for every minute for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t mind.

He’s already gotten your drinks, you can see the two glasses upon the table in front of him. You pull out the chair, making him look up from his phone at you. You can see his features immediately soften at the sight of you stood there.

They always used to do that.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You don’t reply, “I got you a peppermint hot chocolate. I know It’s one of your favourites.”

It was one of your favourites, and you haven’t been able to have one in a while because, surprise surprise, they remind you of Harry, and the time you used to spend together.

“Thank you.” You say, picking up the drink and taking a sip of the hot liquid, dropping it back down and looking at him directly in the eyes, “Why did you invite me here?”

He clears his throat, and the movements of his elbows suggest he’s wiping his hands upon his trousers.

“I want to apologise. For everything, this time.” He says, and you watch as he places his hands back upon the table, messing with the rings on his hand. He still wore the one you got him for your anniversary a year ago, “For how I acted yesterday, the day we broke up and the months before hand. I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for it, but I just hope that you accept my apology.”

“I do.” You say, after a couple of seconds of contemplation, knowing that there was no point to having this dragged out for any longer than it already was, “I just want to know why, that’s all I want.”

“I.” He stops and lets out a shaky breath, “I don’t know, if I’m honest with you. I was just so investing into getting the album finished, and for some reason in my mind I thought that it would be best if I was single to do that.”

“Why would you think that?” You ask, the tears brimming on your waterline.

“I don’t know. The second I watched you walk out of the door, and when you didn’t turn around to look again but just drove away, I knew I’d messed up.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You choke back a sob, trying to be quiet to not draw attention to the two of you, “You should’ve stopped me. Explained. I love you Harry, I would have done anything to help you. You needed space, I would’ve given it to you. You needed me, I would’ve been there.”

He drops his head, “I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You suck in a breath and bite your head to stop anymore sounds from escaping, “You let me leave. You watched me leave. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I felt guilty. I’d just broken up with you, love, do you really think that it would’ve been a good idea for me to all of a sudden say I wanted you back?”

Silent tears stream down your face, “You had months to, Harry. Months. You did nothing.”

“And it’ll be the biggest regret of my life, YN, I promise you.” He says, and you can tell that he’s trying to stop himself from crying, “It will be. I’ve been a mess without you.”

You still love Harry, and you know that you do, and you hate seeing him so upset. You believe that’s why you reach forward to take his hand in yours.

“I have too.”

Somehow, you and Harry had been booked on the same flight home, and you managed to get seats next to each other. Spending that time next to each other was good, you believed. It gave you the opportunity to properly speak and catch each other up on everything that had happened. Harry had apologised, yet again, for everything that had happened and you had too. You gushed over his album once you had done, and that was when he invited you to the Secret London Show he was holding at the Electric Ballroom.

That takes you to now, stood in front of your mirror looking over your outfit to make sure that it was presentable enough. You knew you had to look presentable, but it wasn’t as fancy as the Christmas party. You dressed yourself in a long sleeved black lace top, and paired it with some black jean flares and your docs. Simple, yet quite effective in the grand scheme of things.

You were nervous to say the least about what what the evening was going to hold, especially since Gemma and other people who you hadn’t seen since the two of you broke up were going to be there. You weren’t exactly prepared, and if they asked you any questions you’d have no idea about what to say, but once you had brought that up with Harry, he said to just answer with the truth, which you were going to.

The entire way to the electric ballroom you were nervous, your heart was beating out of you chest and you felt as though you shouldn’t have been going. You thought that up until you arrived, when you walked backstage to see Harry and Gemma stood talking whilst Harry was getting ready. Once he saw you, his features rose into a smile and yours did too, and you walked over to press a kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“YN!” You could hear the shock in Gemma’s voice as she noticed that it was you and she immediately stood up and wrapped her arms around you, “I haven’t seen you in so long. How are you?”

“I’m okay, thanks Gem.” You smiled, pulling away and tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “How are you?”

“I’m amazing.” She says, “I certainly didn’t expect you to be here. Are you two back together? Please tell me that you are.”

Instead of answering straight away, you turn to look at Harry briefly. You both knew exactly what was running through your brains, and the way you both smiled at each other made that completely obvious. He nodded, and then you knew exactly what to say.

You grin and turn back to Gemma, “Trying to.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She wraps you in another hug, “He was a mess without you, and I know you were a mess without him. You’re soulmates. I can’t believe he even did it in the first place.”

“I think we all couldn’t.” You laugh.

“Hey!” Harry whines from the chair beside the two of you, “I made a mistake, we all get it.”

You and Gemma laugh and from then it’s like the past six months hadn’t happened and you were still the best of friends. That was one thing about being with Harry, you loved his family just as much as you loved him. Gemma was like a sister to you, and she was even when you broke up but you just hadn’t seen her. Anne, well she was like a second mother to you. She always made sure to make you feel included at family gatherings, and she even came to stay with you sometimes when Harry went away for a while and you couldn’t go with him. You had missed Harry the most during this time, but Anne and Gemma were two people that you had also missed more than anything.

The majority of people make their way to where they’re watching the show soon after, but you tell Gemma that you’ll meet her on the balcony later because you wanted to have a quick word with Harry. He was in the middle of shrugging his jacket upon his shoulders when you walked through the door, and he immediately stopped his movements and turned to look at you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Everything okay?”

You shrug and bite your lip, stepping for arms a few steps towards him, “Just wanted to see you.”

You find your eyes flicking up and down his body, taking in the monochrome yellow suit he had on with a black tie. You always loved and supported Harry’s wardrobe choices, and you had missed in the time you hadn’t been with him picking them out with him. You felt as though this was an excellent choice.

“You look amazing.” He says, taking a few steps forward so that you’re directly in front of each other. You watch as he lifts his hands up, about to place them on your waist but he stops himself and drops his arms back down. Without hesitation you grab his wrists and place them upon your waist. His eyes widen, but the second he feels your skin underneath his hand, just separated by the thin material of your lace top.

“Thank you.” You bite your lip and wrap your fingers around his tie, lightly picking up the material, “You look so handsome, H.”

He almost lets out a sob at your words, but he quickly stops himself and smiles at you. Without thinking, you lean forward and press your lips upon his. They feel so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. You want to cry. You’ve dreamt of this for months, the feeling of having him this closer to you again, and from the way he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you even closer to him, so that your body is fully flushed against his. You pull away with a smile and immediately drop your head to his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist under his jacket and hugging him close to you. You finally feel a tear escape from your eye.

“I’ve missed you so much, H.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

He sings the entire Fine Line album from start to finish, and from how much you’ve listened to the album you actually know the majority of the words. You sing and dance away with Gemma, posting instagram stories of the two of you, and then one of how proud you are of Harry. You don’t need to explain yourself, there certainly isn’t a need to so you do so without any hesitation. You realise you’ve missed watching him perform, the way he can entertain a crowd with his talents has always been something you’d been jealous of. You’ve done shows here and there but because your album isn’t due to be out until the start of next year, when you plan to do your first world tour, and even though you try your hardest, you don’t feel as though you’ll ever be able to work a crowd the way he does. Where Stormzy came from, you still have no idea, since you hadn’t seen him downstairs but all of a sudden he’s singing Vossi Bop with Harry and your watching with your mouth dropped open in shock as he does so.

You and Harry make the executive decision to go to Harry’s house after the concert. It’s how you both found yourselves sat on Harry’s sofa, a glass of wine in each of your hands. You head is leant against the back of the sofa, whilst Harry’s hand leans upon the back of it, running his fingers through your hair. It’s comforting, and the smile hasn’t left your face since he started to do it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, moving his hand from your hair to run his finger along your cheekbone, then down until he’s running it across your lips, “I can’t believe I ever pushed you away. You were my girl. I was going to marry you, I needed to marry you, still do.”

“I’m back now.” You whisper back, lifting your hand to place on his cheek, “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter how hard you try and push me away, I’m not leaving.”

“I don’t want you too.” He shakes his head, “I’ll never want you too again.”

Without really thinking, you take the glass out of Harry’s hand and place both of yours upon the table in front of you, listening to the sound as glass meets glass. He leans back on the sofa with a puzzled look, immediately realising what is happening when you move to straddle his hips, placing your hands upon his shoulders to steady yourself. His hands fall upon the small of your back, his hands dragging up and down to tease your skin.

You lean forward, moving so that your faces are inches apart. You knock his nose slightly with yours, causing his cheeks to curl upwards with a smile before you capture it with your lips. immediately responds by kissing your back, pushing his body so that it’s placed even closer to yours if it’s physically possible.

Without a warning you pull away from him, slipping off his lap so that you’re on your knees in front of him. His eyes never leave yours as you so, and he immediately opens his legs so that you can slip in between them, his finger running over his bottom lip as he watches you.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Want to feel you.” You reply, resting your hands upon his thighs, “Want to feel you in my mouth. Can I?”

“Go ahead, baby.”

You feel excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and with shaky hands you move to unfasten his belt, and unbutton and unzip his trousers without much struggle. He lifts his hips up so that you can manoeuvre his trousers down and off his legs, leaving him in his black boxers. You bite your lip at the sight of the tent within the flimsy material, already growing and ready for you. You feel slightly overwhelmed that after so long of waiting, and wanting him to be in front of you again, he actually is.

“Already so hard for me, H.” You say, running your hand over the fuzz upon his bare thighs, “Have you thought about this as much as I have.”

“I thought about it everyday.” He replies, quickly at that, “It’s etched in my brain, the sight of you on your knees for me.”

You bite your lip as your grin, leaning to press a kiss to his stomach, just above the happy little trial that slips underneath the hem of his boxers. You feel his stomach tense underneath your lips, especially when you hook your fingers into the hem of his boxers, wiggling the material down until you can completely take it off once he’d lifted his hips again. He’s fully hard for you, and you can feel your stomach doing little flips in excitement for what is going to happen.

Sex, as it is in most relationships, was a big part of yours and Harry’s. It’s important that couples are comfortable with each other when revealing such intimate parts of themselves, and you and Harry were. If any of of you wanted to try anything, you could do so because of how comfortable you felt with each other. Whenever the other wanted to try anything, you’d do so without any hesitation and in such a way that you both enjoyed it. You both had your kinks, and your shared ones, and over the courser of your relationship you both explored those feelings. You were just happy that even though you had spent such time away from each other, you could still feel that confidence bubbling between the two of you, and those feelings bubbling between each other. Harry made you feel a way no other human being has ever been able to, and you were thankful because you felt as though you’d never be able to find that with anyone else, and now you didn’t have to worry because you were back together.

“You ready to take me in your mouth baby.” He says, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Ready to take me the way you used to.”

“Always, baby.”

Your tongue slips from between your lips and you lick a stripe up his throbbing cock, causing a low groan to escape through Harry’s lips. You can’t help but smile at the sound, knowing that you had caused that. Another groan escapes his lips once you wrap your lips around his tip completely, taking it into your mouth and you can help but giggle slightly. He smiles down at you and pulls your hair up so that it’s off of your face, making a makeshift ponytail to help move you up and down his cock.

“Look so good with my cock in your mouth.” His tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips, “Always could take me so well. Show me, baby, show me how deep you can go.”

You comply, taking him as deep as you can until you can feel him in the back of your throat. You eyes start to water, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. You hold for as long as possibly can before he lightens his touch and allows you to pull away. A string of saliva connects you two together as you and you wipe your lips with the back of your hand to remove it.

“Can you do it again?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, flicking your eyes between his throbbing member and him a few times before wrapping your lips back around him, “Fuck, baby, no one can do this like you can. No one.”

His words spur you on and you deep throat him as far as you possibly can before you need to gasp for air, taking a few seconds before starting to bob your head again, taking a few seconds at each time to run your tongue over his throbbing tip, collecting some of the salty pre-come that had started to bubble there.

“So good to me.” He lets you stop for a minute, and you place your head upon his thigh so that you can catch you breath. It was almost as though he knew that you needed to take a breather. You had the slight problem of always trying to do more than you’re able too and you almost always end up loosing too much of your breath, “Even though I’m an absolute twat. You’re always so good to me.”

“You deserve it.” You say, your throat a little coarse from your actions before.

“I don’t.” He shakes his head, “I broke your heart.”

You hesitate for a few seconds, “But you’re fixing it.”

“I shouldn’t have broken it in the first place.”

You move so that your higher up and able to place a kiss to his lips, whispering against them, “You’re fixing it.”

He kisses you back with more passion than before, moving his hand to grip under your thighs so that he can pick you up and place your on his. His fingers tug at the hem of your lace shirt, so you detach your lips so that you can pull it over your head. He groans at the sight of your bare chest to him, your nipples hardening into stiff buds at the feeling of the cold air immediately on your skin.

“No bra?” He presses a few open mouthed kisses to your neck, “You’ve been with me all evening, and I never even fucking noticed that you didn’t have a bra on.”

“You used to have a special talent for noticing when I didn’t have a bra on.” You giggle, sighing slightly at the feeling of his lips on his neck, and then the subtle feeling of his teeth grazing your skin.

“I must’ve lost my touch. But don’t worry.” He pulls away and looks you directly in the eye, “I’ll soon get it back.”

“Of course you will.” You laugh, but he stops it with his lips. The first time you and Harry kissed, you were so nervous. You felt as though you were going to mess up and he’d never want to kiss you again. You were completely wrong, and he actually ended up saying that it was one of the best kisses of you life. You couldn’t believe his words, and since then you completely found yourself wanting his lips to be on yours. Just as they were now, his tongue slipping between your lips and the feeling always transporting the two of you to where it’s just you, and you have the time in the world to kiss as much as you want to.

He moves his kisses down your neck, leaving sloppy ones against your skin until he was at the curve of your breast. Harry was a boob man, you knew that for a fact. As much as he loved to hold onto your ass every now and then, you always noticed that he spent the majority of his time focusing on your boobs. Whether it be sucking blemishes into the plushly skin whilst you fucked, or laying his head on them as you both calmed down from your activities, he always, without fail, focused on your boobs.

He knew that if he attacked your nipples skilfully with his tongue, he could have your dampening your panties and clenching your thighs together so much that he couldn’t resist it. He starts by wrapping his lips around your right nipple, tugging on the flesh slightly with his lips before letting it go with a pop.

“Fucking love your tits, love.” He sighs and you giggles slightly before gasping at the feeling of his pinching your other nipple with his fingers, “Fit in my hands, and in my mouth, so nicely.”

You moan in response to his words and throw your head back as he wraps his lips around your other one, sucking and sending flutters all the way down to your core. You wanted him, yearned for him, and you were beginning to grown inpatient.

“Can we go to your bedroom?” You run your fingers through his hair and pull his head back so that he’s looking at you, “Bedroom.”

“Is that where you want it?”

“Want it in your bed.” You say, placing your hand upon his cheek, “Our bed.”

He stands up with you still on him, your legs wrapped around him as he carries your upstairs. You rest your head upon his shoulder so he can look over yours and direct you safely to the comforts of his bedroom.

This place didn’t hold the best of memories from the last few months of your relationship but if you ignored that and focused on the positives, you had some of your best times in this room. It was a place where the two of you could completely be yourselves, and have a place to call yours. The pillow talk that occurred in this room was out of this world, and it was where you planned your future. One that was put on hold briefly but now seemed to be ready for the two of you again.

“Will you strip for me?” He asks as he places your down in the room, “I want to watch you slip out of those jeans, baby.”

You nod but at first undress him. You slip the jacket from his shoulders, skilfully loosen his tie and pull it over his head. Next is his shirt which you start to unbutton, but Harry grows impatient and rips it off, the buttons flying in all sorts of directions.

“Harry!”

“Oops?” He laughs, sitting down on the bed.

You had given Harry one strip tease before, for his birthday a year ago and it had gone down a treat. You had dressed up in your fanciest lingerie, which happened to be a black set that he had bought specifically for you for your birthday with ‘Styles’ embroidered on the inside. There was something, for the both of you, that you loved about seeing his name all over your the undergarments you wore. Whenever you wore them out in public, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, as though you were hiding a naughty secret that you didn’t want anyone to know about.

“Are you going to?” He urged, not taking his eyes off you’re, “I’m waiting.”

“Might make you wait a little longer.” You smile, running your fingers along the hem of your jeans, “Seeing as though you left me waiting for how long?”

“Don’t tease.”

“Why?” You shrug, “That was your speciality, wasn’t it?”

He had a love for teasing you, always had done. From the first time the two of you had sex, you knew he liked to tease. He liked to tease you all over, having your body withering under his touch until you couldn’t help but beg for him to touch you. You had a slight suspicion that he enjoyed hearing you beg for him, whimpering under his touch until you were crying for him to touch you. You remember that once, he had been teasing you all day whilst you had been out and about, but once you had gotten home he was teasing you so badly, overstimulating you over and over until you were crying for him to make your come.

“Just strip, my love.” You laugh and his words and unfasten the button to your jeans, turning around so that your ass is facing him, pulling your jeans down to reveal your black lace panties to him. You’re not surprised when he smacks his hand to the flesh of your ass, causing you to turn around with a gasp.

“That wasn’t nice.” You move so that you’re straddling him again.

“When have I ever been nice?” He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t think you want me to start now.”

He leans forward and places his lips to yours again, his body falling back upon the bed so that you’re hovering above him. His fingers run down from the small of his back, to her ass again until he’s gripping the flesh between his fingers, quite harshly you must say so which goes straight to your core. You know that the front of your panties are ruined by your wetness, and you know for certain that Harry does also.

“Sit on my face.” He mumbles against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back.

“Sit on my face.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Wanna eat that pretty cunt, want to have you trembling above me.”

You would squeeze your thighs together, but you can’t because of his body between yours. You nod your head and clamber off him, pulling your underwear down your legs quickly. You move up the bed until you’re next to his head, spreading your legs and placing your knees on either side of his head. His hands grip your thighs, dancing his fingers along your thighs.

“Please, H.” You say, pushing his hair off of his forehead as you look down at him.

“Didn’t think you’d be begging so soon, baby.” He chuckles, pressing a few kisses upon your cheeks.

“I’m doing no such thing.” You shake your head, “You’re just being slow.”

He certainly isn’t being slow when he leans his head forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue. You have to quickly lean forward also and grab the headboard to steady yourself, a moan escaping your lips as he does so. He attacks your clit quickly, and you can’t help but grind your hips forward at the feeling. He curls his hands around your thighs, stopping you from moving anymore. You cry out as he doesn’t slow down, and you pull his hair slightly. It emits a moan from him which vibrates against your clit, creeping your closer and closer to your peak.

It becomes a cycle. As you pull on his hair, more moans and groans tumble from his lips again sty your clit. He knew the more that he focused upon your clit, the closer you’d find yourself to your orgasm. He had learnt this, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten it.

You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, rocking your hips back and forth against his tongue. He knows your close, due to your thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t slow down, but instead he flicks his tongue even quicker.

“Fucking hell.” You moan, your body starting to shake as you feel your orgasm wash over you. He continues to attack your clit, coaxing you through your orgasm until you’ve finished and catching your breath.

“You taste so fucking good.” He says, dancing his fingers upon your thigh, “Missed your taste.”

“Fuck me, H.” You say, breathlessly.

He doesn’t hesitate. You manoeuvre yourself off of his head and lay so that you’re head is rested upon his pillow. He leans to open his bedside drawer but you stop him, grabbing his arm and pulling his back to you.

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” You ask, knowing that this could make or break whether you were going to be fucked or not at this moment.

“No.” He says, immediately shaking his head, “I didn’t. Did you?”

You also shake your head, “I wanna feel you, H. Want you to come in me.”

He groans without even touching you yet, or you touching him. He immediately drops his lips to yours, and you can’t help but giggle and smile into the kiss. You wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer to you. He pulls away slightly, just to grip his cock, running his thumb over his tip a few times.

“Are you sure?” He says and you nod, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Please, H.” You nod, hips bucking towards his, “I need you.”

“Need you too.” He kisses you again, “Always need you.”

He leans forward, looking down between the two of you to line his cock up with your entrance. He runs the tip over your clit for a second before pushing into you. Your walls immediately envelope him, tightening around him with every inch that he moves in. You sigh against his lips, wrapping your arms around his back. He starts to move in and out of you, your walls clenching around him as he tries to find his rhythm.

“Fuck.” You can’t help but moan that into his ear.

“Taking me so well.” You drop your hands to rest on your pillows next to him, to which he takes your hand in his as he starts to quicken his pace, “Missed your pussy so much. Never leaving again.”

Instead of replying, you place your lips upon his again. From the way his eyes are screwed closed, you can tell that he’s close. If it’s possible, he starts to thrust his hips harder towards you, hitting a point so deep into you that causes a whine to fall from your mouth.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” He says against your neck, moving in and out until your thighs are shaking beneath him, “Can feel you, fuck, can feel you clenching around me. Milking my cock, aren’t you?”

You hum, “Feel so good, H. I’m so close.”

When you do come, you see stars. You clench around him, and profanities escape your lips. The feeling is completely how you remember it. You hadn’t been completely celibate since breaking up with Harry, since you do own a little bullet vibrator that had been your friend. You had it for years before you met Harry, and you used it whenever he was away or if the two of you fancied spicing it up every now and then.

You come down from your high just as Harry is catapulted into his, coating your walls with his as does so. His body collapses on top of yours, his head rested at the side of yours. He’s still inside of you, and both of your chests are rising up at down at a quick pace.

“Fucking hell.” He laughs, and you turn your head to look at him. He has a grin upon his face and you lean forward to kiss his dimple, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

“I know.” You smiled, “You’ve told me multiple times. I’ve missed you to.”

He finally pulls out, and you immediately felt empty. You whined slightly and he moved off of you, dropping down upon the bed next to you. You take this as the opportunity to slip from your bed. Due to not having sex in a long time, you flip your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare yourself for having to take a few steps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up and waddle your way towards Harry’s bathroom, scooping up Harry’s shirt on the way.

You know the way like the back of your hand, and it’s oddly comforting to you. Once you’re in the bathroom, you clean yourself and do your business. Once you’re satisfied, you shrug Harry’s shirt on and do up a few buttons so that you’re covering at least a bit of yourself as you do so.

Harry’s underneath the covers as you return to his room, smiling at you with dimples and all as you walk back through the door. He’s on his side of the bed, and you clamber into yours. The feeling of having someone in bed next to you makes you happy inside. You lay upon your side, with one of your hands beneath you head and Harry copies your movement. Your faces are close, and he leans forward to place a kiss to your nose.

You smile, “Hi.”

“Hi, love.”

“Are you okay?” You ask and he nods, “Do you think we’ve rushed this?”

“No.” He’s quick to say, “I don’t think we have. We needed this. I’ve never felt closer to someone as I do to you right now.”

“Me neither.” You smile, moving to grab his hand that was rested upon his side, “And I don’t think I will again.”

“Darling.” Harry says, pointing his finger in the air as he does so.

Chloe hesitates for a second before letting out a, “Ding!” to say that he was right.

It was Boxing Day, and after spending Christmas Eve and the majority of Christmas Day with your family, you had driven from your family house up to Cheshire to spend the rest of Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Harry’s family. You were all sat in the living room playing a game, sporting glasses of wine and basking in the Christmassy feeling of being together again.

After Harry’s show on the nineteenth, and the acts that happened afterwards, you and Harry had many conversations. There was a few tears from the two of you, and the conversation got heated in some aspects but you were together again, and that was the main thing. Originally, you had decided to spend Christmas separate, without each other’s company just because it was such a sudden change and you wanted to make sure that you fully weren’t rushing into things. Then, whilst sat on the sofa after devouring your Christmas dinner, with Mud’s Lonely this Christmas playing through your speakers that you realised that you missed Harry, and a Christmas without seeing him now was a Christmas that you didn’t want in your life.

You had contemplated surprising him and just turning up, but you felt as though that wasn’t fair on the rest of his family, and that’s why you messaged and asked him. He replied asking whether you were certain that you wanted to do this, and you said yes and he said that he’d have a cup of tea ready for you whenever you arrived.

He did have one ready for you, and it was everything you needed to warm yourself up after the long journey.

Anne, Gemma and Michal asked no questions to you, but you had no doubt that they had asked Harry some on your journey. Anne had welcomed you with a hug, and so did Gemma and once their prying eyes were away, Harry kissed you as though his life depended on it, pressed against the staircase of his mother’s house whilst fairy lights twinkled around them.

Anne’s next to go, hoping that her answer of, “Sweetheart,” was at the top of the list.

Chloe replies with, “Uh huh,” to which everyone “Ooo’s” in response at.

You’re rested upon the back of the sofa, with a flute of Champagne in your hand. Harry, in his flat-cap almost breaking your hear with how handsome he looked, turned around and pointed his finger at you.

“Come on, now.” He says, “Be smart with this. It’s sticky stuff.”

“Babe.” You immediately reply, knowing that was one of pet names that Harry called you the most.

People around the room laugh at Harry’s phrase of ‘sticky-stuff’ but that doesn’t mask Chloe’s exclamation of, “Ding!” followed by, “Top answer.”

You smile at the knowledge and Harry turns to you also, holding his fist up for you to fist bump which you both laugh at. He holds his hand out and you pass him your drink, which he takes a sip of quickly before returning it to you so you can carry on playing the game.

Michal is next, and for some bizarre reason to all of you he says, “Cutie-pie,” which certainly isn’t on the list. The room chuckles around you, and Harry says something about him “returning to the mines’’ which you all laugh at, but you specifically roll your eyes at.

The game soon wraps up, and you have your meal. Harry sits next to you, and had his hand upon your thigh the entire way through. The table around the two of you chatted about all sorts, many of the questions being about when your music was coming out which you certainly didn’t expect. You started to feel as though your album, when it came out, wouldn’t be very complimentary of your relationship with Harry, and you were starting to regret it slightly, but you loved all of your songs and you hoped that when you showed Harry, and the world for that matter, that they would too.

You and Harry, after the meal had finished, had offered to be on washing up duty. You had been given the task of washing up, whilst Harry dried because he felt as though his skills were better there. You let him believe that and carry on with drying all of the special Christmas cutlery that didn’t go in the dish-washer.

Once you had finished, and you were drying your hand upon the towel, you felt hands upon your waist, more specifically, Harry’s. He place a kiss to your neck and you giggled, turning around so that upon were facing him. He immediately captures your lips with his, and you wrap your arms around your neck to steady yourself from the attack of his lips. His hands immediately again go to your waist, slipping his hand underneath the material of your jumper to rest upon your skin. Once you pull away, you look at him with a smile upon your face.

“What was that for?”

“What?” He shrugs, “Can’t I kiss my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” You ask, unable to hide your smile.

“Girlfriend.” He nods, “That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

You nod your head and place another kiss to his lips, the feeling running through the two of you without really knowing how significant he really was.

“If you want me to be. I want to be.”

He lifts one of his hands and places it upon your cheek, running his thumb ever so delicately along your skin.

“I love you.” He says, with no hesitation in his voice, “I know I’ve been shitty, and I probably shouldn’t be saying this to you, especially not in the way that I am, but I do love you and I never stopped. I swear to you, that from now on my love for you will be the most important thing, and I won’t ever, ever make you second best again.”

“That’s all I want.” You reply, leaning forward to place a kiss upon his lips, “I love you too.”

With the year that you had, and the feeling as though you’d never be with this man again, you couldn’t believe that here you were with him. He was with you, and he was yours and there was no doubt in your mind that what happened earlier this year will never happen again. It was almost as though this was something that your relationship needed to grow stronger in itself, and it surely was now.

He wraps an arm around your neck and pulls you onto his chest, “I’m never letting you go again. I probably won’t let you out of my sight again.”

“I can’t say that I’d ever complain.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles writing

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

Day 29, Story #1 is by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: In Vino Veritas Author/Artist: Floreatcastellum Pairing: Gen (Harry - Molly platonic/parent-child) Prompt: In Vino Veritas Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Heavy alcohol consumption, mild language. Molly Weasley was not stupid, and was well aware that young men enjoyed going out and getting drunk. She was not even particularly opposed to it - in principle - and she had to admit that she was very relieved to see George so excited about something. He hadn’t been excited in several long months.

‘Just don’t be too silly,’ she told him.

‘Us? Silly?’ he said, affronted.

‘I mean it, things might be safer but you’re all still targets - especially Harry, he needs to be particularly aware-’

‘I think he is more than aware that people out there want him dead. What he needs is a lot of alcohol to forget that.’

‘No, George.’

She knew he was winding her up, but she also knew that they were planning a big night out, because Ron and Harry had never really had one before, and in all honesty as much as she couldn’t help her disapproval, she did also feel that it was a shame they had missed out on such a rite of passage.

All the same, since George had let it slip, she knew she was going to worry, and her way of coping with that twisting, maternal anxiety was to insist that after their night out they returned, not to the flat in Diagon Alley they shared, but to the Burrow so that she could make them a full English in the morning.

She had also intended to stay up waiting for them, and to call the Law Enforcement Patrol if they were not back by half one to go and search for them, just in case something terrible had happened. But it was an awfully cold Halloween, and so she had got into bed next to Arthur so that she could have the warmth of the duvet, propped herself up against the headboard, and started knitting. The next thing she knew, she was being woken by an almighty crash.

‘Oh, fuck!’

‘Wahey!’

Both Molly and Arthur had already grabbed their wands in a panic before they heard their son’s exasperated voice.

‘Get up - get up, you idiot - George, hold him - oh for crying out loud-’

‘RON-’

‘Ssh! Don’t shout-’

‘Get him some water-’

‘He needs more than water - ahhh I have a brilliant idea-’

‘No, you don’t, whatever it is, abandon it-’

‘HEY, WOW, LOOK AT-’

‘SSH!’

‘That’ll be the boys back, then,’ said Arthur, turning on the bedside lamp and giving her a wry smile. The clock on the table said that it was approaching three in the morning.

‘Sounds like it, what on earth is all the shouting about?’ she asked, pulling on her dressing gown. Tying the cord tightly about her waist and slipping her feet into slippers, she listened to the commotion echoing up the stairs, and tried to figure out what exactly they were doing.

She could hear snorting laughter as she descended the creaking stairs, and Ron’s voice again, sounding remarkably grown up, saying, ‘don’t encourage him, stop it - put that down-’

She could hear saucepans clattering and tins falling, and the hissing spit of the gas; she looked over her shoulder to exchange a bewildered look with Arthur. ‘Are they cooking?’ she whispered, though there was no need, because there was no chance of them hearing her above the noise of George hooting.

‘Beans on toast, beans on toast!’

‘BEANS ON TOAST!’ came Harry’s echo.

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up, both of you, shut-’

‘BEANS ON TOAST!’

Molly had heard enough; she threw open the kitchen door so violently that George jumped and threw an open tin of baked beans several feet into the air. They landed with an impressive splatter across the slate floor. Harry, meanwhile, reached for his wand, but had instead seized a loaf of bread which he now brandished threateningly as he leaned against the counter. Ron had frozen in the middle of filling a glass of water, which now flowed over his hand. All three of them were still streaked with smears of paint from what she assumed were their Halloween costumes.

‘What on earth is going on in here?’ she demanded loudly.

Ron gave a heavy, exaggerated sigh. ‘You woke Mum and Dad,’ he told George and Harry pointlessly.

Harry lowered the bread, and held it sheepishly in both hands, like a child with a toy. George, in a carrying, apologetic whisper, said, ‘...sorry. We’re a bit drunk. Go back to bed.’

‘We can see that,’ said Arthur. ‘Harry,’ he added sharply. ‘What’s wrong with your foot?’

‘Oh, I… I fell on it. It doesn’t matter.’

‘He was dancing on a table!’ exclaimed George, with an accusatory point.

‘I wasn’t dancing, I was standing-’

‘Look at the state of you all!’ she said furiously, as Arthur calmly went over to Harry and guided him, hobbling, to a kitchen chair. ‘So irresponsible-’

‘I’m not that bad!’ said Ron defensively, and in truth Molly was rather surprised and a little proud at how he was being the responsible adult of the group, but there was no denying the heavy slurring, and the slight sway as he towered above her.

'You're not going to lose your bones,' she could hear Arthur saying reassuringly.

‘Mum,’ George was saying urgently, ‘Mum, can you make us beans on toast?’

‘No I will not make you beans on flipping toast! I’ll make you breakfast at a reasonable hour, right now you need to-’

‘Molly,’ Arthur called, ‘Molly, I think we’ll need some Skele-gro-’

‘Noooo - no, Mr Weasley, it’s fine, look, I can-’

Arthur gave a horrified yelp. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘I’ll get it,’ said Ron loudly, and, weaving erratically, he crossed the room to the Healing kit on top of the cupboards.

‘Mum,’ George continued, ‘if I hover up those beans, they’ll be all right, won’t they? Ten second rule, and if I let them boil for a bit?’

In short, it was chaos. Noisy, drunken chaos. In truth, she found it rather amusing, though it was still equally easy to frown and scowl at them. Somehow, and she could not muddle through the boys drunken logic, rooms were assigned and she found herself - and, again, she could not quite see how she had ended up in this situation, guiding Harry into Ron’s attic room and trying to help him into pyjamas. She had noticed before that Harry was a little more open, a little more affectionate, when he’d had a drink, but she had never quite seen him drunk before, and though the first time he had stopped her on the way up the stairs so he could hug her had been rather endearing, by this point she was getting rather fed up.

‘Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry loudly. ‘Mrs Weasley - I-’

‘Come on, dear,’ she said, more grumpily than she had ever spoken to him before.

‘I love you so much, Mrs Weasley-’

Her heart melted in an instant, she tried very hard to hide her smile, continuing to hold out the pyjama top. ‘You need to get into bed, dear.’

‘I love this whole family-’

‘That’s very sweet, Harry,’ she said patiently.

‘Bes’ family in the world-'

‘All right…’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he slurred, and, though he was usually a very shy boy, he pulled his shirt off over his head, knocking his glasses half off in the process.

She looked politely away, but a few muttered swearwords made her look back, and, with a tut, she proceeded to help him untangle himself from the twisted shirt. ‘Hold still - this arm this way- that’s it-’

She had never realised just how covered in scars he was. On his chest, his arm…

The shirt fell to the floor, and she caught his glasses as they tumbled off his ear, and set them on the windowsill. When she turned back, he had one arm in the pyjama shirt, but was missing the other arm and twisting dramatically to try and get at it.

‘Silly boy, here you are,’ she said, helping him, and he started telling her thank you, over and over and over again. When it came to the pyjama bottoms, he seemed to realise that she was there, and gain a sense of shame, and he loudly asked her to turn away and not look, but when she went to the door to leave him to it, he shouted again.

‘No - no wait - Mrs Weasley don’t go, just don’t look - hang on-’

Finally, after the sounds of heavy, staggering hopping and a few more muttered swear words, she said, ‘can I look now?’ and he mumbled an agreement.

‘Oh, no, where are are my glasses?’ he asked, as she guided him to the bed. He sounded very worried.

‘They’re on the windowsill, and look-’ She pointed her wand at the bedside table, and a large jug of water and a glass appeared. ‘You’ve got water, and in a few hours you’ll have some food too, you just need to sleep some of this off. All right, dear?’

He collapsed heavily onto the bed. ‘You’re like the mum I never had,’ he mumbled into the mattress. ‘Mrs Weasley. My aunt never was this kind. Wish I’d been here all ‘long.’

She swallowed, and perched on the bed beside him, and reached out to brusy back his messy hair. ‘I wish you had too,’ she said quietly. ‘But you’re part of the family now, aren’t you? For good. I love you too, we all do.’

'I'm sorry,' he whispered suddenly, rolling onto his side with what must have been considerable effort.

'It's all right, you're just a bit drunk, you know I play the grumpy Mum act up a bit.'

'No. I… I’m sorry for everything I put you and your family through.'

She placed her hand against his face, and looked into his bright eyes. ‘I’d do it all again,’ she told him. ‘In a heartbeat.’

‘Would you?’ he asked quietly. ‘If you knew? If you knew everything that would happen?’

‘I absolutely would still talk to the little boy alone in Kings Cross,’ she said firmly. ‘In fact, I think I would probably go looking for him.’

His eyelids drooped, he sighed heavily. ‘Kings Cross… Thank you.’

Within seconds, she was sure that he was asleep, gone to the world, utterly unwakeable. She smiled, kissed him on the temple, and left the room. From the sounds of it, Arthur was still arguing with George about beans on toast.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #canon fest platonic #submission #tw: mild language #tw: heavy alcohol consumption

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’ are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

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