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highvern · 3 months

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Burnt Coffee

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x gn! Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Running a cafe hadn’t been as glamorous as you initially believed. You loved your job; the cozy aroma of the different roasts, the hum of the espresso machine, the foam art you tediously practiced until a cute bear face stared back from the surface of a cappuccino. But any new shop comes with quirks, like the fire alarm that goes off almost every morning. Luckily, the fire station is just across the street and you unknowingly have one of the fireman wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: coffee shop owner reader, firefighter Hoshi, pockets of angst, crying, lots of mentions of food and coffee, firefighter jihoon and his baker gf, crying, kissing

Length: ~4.6k

Note: second valentine's fic! surprise! written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's @idyllic-ghost / @bee-buzzez !!! i hope its the cafe au of your dreams

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“I’ve got an iced dirty chai with oat milk at the end of the bar!”

A sour-faced woman scoffs, “That isn’t what I ordered.”

“Well, is your name Samantha?”

“No.”

“Then it isn’t your order.”

The exchange between Seungkwan and the woman rings familiar. Sundays bring out the best in everyone it seems. But you're too busy handling the never ending line of drink tickets to scold him for poor customer service. Focusing on the machine, you pull shot after shot; inadvertently covering yourself in errant splashes of milk and coffee. The rush of the morning is still going strong but you hone into the rhythm and let your mind fall away from anything beyond the cups resting atop the counter next to you.

But as always, the steam from the milk frother continues to heat the space above; right where the over sensitive fire alarm was installed.

The shrill blaring freezes everyone in place. A few children scream in shock, making the vein on your temple throb. Your ears ring with each pulse as your head falls into your hands.

Every single morning since you opened Fika two months ago the alarm went off without fail.

And then he would show up like clockwork.

The bell attached to the wooden door chimes as Soonyoung breaks through the threshold of the cafe. Grimaced faces greet him. The shrill fire alarm with flash lights blares into the industrial space, bouncing off the walls to echo inanely.

“Earlier than usual.” Soonyoung chirps as he saunters past the line, easily rounding the bar to access the screeching piece of junk inconveniently placed above the espresso machine.

You step out of the way, face flat and mouth tense. “Busy day.” You explain.

The alarm cuts off as swift as it started, Soonyoung stepping back to smile down at you.

“I can hang around in case. Seems like that line isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink?” You offer stepping back to the line of cups littering the metal counter.

“Ooo, buying me drinks already? Aren’t you presumptuous?”

The wiggle of his eyebrows is meant to be suggestive but they only make him look like he ate a mouthful of sour candy.

“Nevermind.” You huff, stepping around the man as you grab the next cup in line and start working. “Go save a cat in a tree or something.”

Sensing your waning mood, Soonyoung cuts the act. “I’ll just have my regular.”

“You know where the cups are.”

A full cup of brewed coffee joins him on the opposite side of the counter. Soonyoung plants himself in his usual chair, chin resting on his curled fist as he watches you work your magic.

On slow days he’ll chat your ear off until the fire station calls him back. But on days like today, he’s content to in silence; obsessed with the sureness of your hands, the strong pout of your lips, and the way everything seems pulled into your gravity.

Maybe he has a crush on you.

Scratch that; Soonyoung definitely has a crush on you.

And everyone knows. His supervisor, Jihoon, knows. It’s why Soonyoung is always the one to come and fix the faulty alarm in the shop. His best friend, Seokmin, knows. It’s why Seokmin and his fiancee constantly batter him with texts about when he’ll ask you on a date. If someone went to space and looked down they could see how much he likes you without even trying.

You hit a lull and Soonyoung takes his chance. “Got any special plans this week?”

“We’re doing themed baked goods on Wednesday.” You call over your shoulder.

It’s not what Soonyoung was asking about but he takes it in stride.

Your employees also know about the fireman’s feelings. It’s why Seungkwan throws a pitying look his way along with a deformed muffin. Subtle rejection tastes like blueberries and brown sugar.

“Will you save me one?” Soonyoung asks.

“Is free coffee not enough?”

“Who said I wouldn’t pay for it?”

You never let Soonyoung pay for anything at the cafe. Despite how much he enjoys free food, it always makes him feel a bit guilty. It’s why you think he only drinks black coffee with a lethal amount of sugar when in reality he’d take some fancy espresso drink any day.

You laugh as you continue to work through the next batch of orders. “We’ll see if there are any left.”

“I’m a civil servant!”

“Serve in silence please!” Seungkwan barks, earning a few chuckles from the other customers sitting at the bar.

The back and forth continues and eventually the line dwindles to nothing as the morning lulls on. Soonyoung downs two more cups and manages to haggle Seungkwan for an overly toasted slice of banana bread with a singed corner he planned to throw out anyway.

The entire time Soonyoung watches you. Even covered in splashes of milk and coffee stains, he’s still enamored with you as you lean over the bar and jot notes in the ever expanding list of repairs and updates the shop needs.

And just when Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, anything, the shrill beep of his phone cuts him off.

“Damn, I gotta head back.” He curses. “Just call if you need me again, okay?”

“Will do.”

You don’t even look up as he walks towards the door.

“Satan is one the phone for you.”

“Please be less specific.” You beg Seungkwan, grabbing the receiver still on hold.

“Bakery lady.”

Steeling yourself, you unmute the phone and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I was reviewing orders for Valentine’s. You're only doing the usual? I thought we talked about special items. I already bought the ingredients so if you changed your mind it’s putting me out of money.”

“No, we need at least two dozen of the cupcakes and two dozen of the cookies on top of our usual order.”

“That’s not what the order form says!” The old crone hawks through the line.

You ask her for a moment while pulling out your laptop and settling into a seat far away from the clusters of customers still strung throughout the cafe.

Wiping your face, you stare at the illuminated screen of your computer with the order form pulled up. “I have the form on my screen right now and it clearly says—”

“I don’t care what you’re looking at, it’s not what I have on my end!”

“Are you sure you’re looking at the form for Fika on Second street?”

“I’m telling you I’m—oh.”

The deflation in her tone pulls a smirk across your lips. “Hm?”

“Alright so two dozen red velvet cupcakes and two dozen heart sugar cookies?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll have it on Wednesday.”

“Thanks.”

Click.

The table shakes with the impact of your forehead. The clatter of your mug draws attention from the few customers around but none pay much attention.

“Everything okay?” A voice asks from above.

“Great. Wonderful.” You say into the wood.

“Good. Because the espresso machine is broken…again.”

You rise from your seat, face indecipherable as you walk past the counter, through the back storage area and into the alley behind the building.

Several seconds pass before you release a guttural scream. It's gritty, ripping apart your throat as all bubbling exhaustion breaches your lips. The noise echos between the brick walls before escaping to the sky above. Several pigeons flee to the rooftops for safety while mice and other vermin scuffle along the walls in terror.

Seungkwan watches from the door, eyes wide as you continue to belt for the trash bags and city rats witnessing your meltdown.

Your voice fizzles as you run out of air. Closing your eyes, you take two deep breaths. Inhaling the scent of stale storm water and whatever else perfumes the back alley until the stretch of your lungs burns from the inside out.

And then you turn and walk back inside as if the entire thing never happened.

The block is only illuminated by streetlights at this hour. Not even the earliest of early birds litter the narrow sidewalk as you push into the empty cafe and begin prepping for the Monday morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, the whir of the grinder harmonizing with the jazz playlist curling down from the speakers.

The calm before the storm.

Slowly the first shift employees trickle in just before opening; relieving you to commandeer the office slash storage room in the back, intent on knocking out the mountain of paperwork and following up with the repair man about the alarm he said he would be back to fix last week. But first, the phone blinking with unread messages.

“This is Megan. We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warr—”

Message deleted.

The next message is a young man reporting his credit card missing and visiting your shop. You call and let his voicemail know no one has seen anything but you hope he figures it out.

“Hi Y/N. This is Cheryl with Harmony Bakers. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to get that special order for Valentine’s Day. Or your regular order for tomorrow. We’ve decided to close up shop. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

The words don’t hit at first. But your brain slowly catches up to what Cheryl is saying. Canceling. She’s canceling two days before Valentine’s.

Your attempts to return her call fall flat. Six tries and all ring once before dropping into an automated message reporting her voicemail is full, no doubt from the other shops she’s also shafted with the impulsive decision.

No holiday treats. No regular food items. No back up. No plan B.

Failure, failure, failu—

The pad of paper littered with notes sails into the not so far wall only to slap against the plaster and slip to the ground.

You can only focus on one problem at a time. Or at least the problem whose solution won’t send you to jail. And that means heading to the front where the day is starting to pick up.

The boys have things under control but the line is lengthening and you’re a great way to relieve the pressure. Immediately an invisible song pulls you into the rhythm of their work; drinks and food hit the end of the bar almost as fast as the orders came in.

Soonyoung comes in and waits at the counter as usual. The alarm seems to be granting mercy given the horrible state of affairs from this morning.

The customers not so much.

“God, how stupid are you that you messed up a simple order? It’s a fucking americano and you made it taste like ass.”

The man standing at the end of the bar, hands flat on the counter in an attempt to physically dominate the space, always complains. His iced drinks are too cold, his hot drinks are too hot, the weather is bad, taxes are too high, the list continues on and on. And somehow it's always your fault.

Usually its little barbs under his breath but today he’s out for blood and you’ve already had enough.

Your teeth grit together so hard it feels like the forced smile plastered on your face might crack them into dusk. “Like I said, I can remake it for you if you’d lik—”

“Why would I want you to remake it? You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Get someone else.”

“I got it.” Seungcheol steps forward.

The older man gives him an apprehensive look. Seungcheol is harmless but he knows how to be scary when he wants to be.

“I’m gonna go…restock something…” you warble, all but sprinting to the back.

Plastic sleeves of cups and boxes of straws bear witness to your breakdown. The six am tantrum clouds in and your carefully built dam of control explodes. Hot tears streak your cheeks, dripping off the jut of your chin with every gasping breath from the knot in your throat tangling tighter and tighter. All you can hear are ugly gasping breaths as you rock back and forth in the dark.

The sliver of light spilling in from the cracked door doesn’t register given the way your face is buried in your hands. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend he never entered the cramped space. He’s never seen you so… small.

A shrill squeak of the hinge alert you to the new presence. Bloodshot eyes find his wide ones and you swipe at your face to hide the evidence of your distress. You go to speak but barely manage a croak before the tears come again.

“Shit,” Soonyoung whispers. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

The warmth of his chest makes you cry harder, tears spilling onto his neck as you hide from the world. He smooths the flat of his palm across your back.

It's anyone’s guess how long you stay there. Soonyoung’s cheek rests on the top of your head, arms firm around your shoulders. The faint smell of smoke tickles your nose. Smoke and pine from his cologne. It tethers your mind, lulling the frantic breakdown and giving you something to focus on other than how horrible the day has become in the span of a few hours.

No baked goods. Horrible customers. And now you’re being held by the handsome fighter from next door with snot dripping from your nose.

Soonyoung hesitates when you shift in his hold, arms tightening for a second in case another bout of tears crops up. But you pull far enough away to send an embarrassed grimace his way before looking anywhere else.

“Sorry.” You say, turning to snatch napkins from the shelf next to you.

His hand continues to rub your shoulders as you dab your eyes and blow your nose.

“It’s okay. That guy was a jerk.”

“I don’t care what he said.”

Soonyoung stares in disbelief, waiting for you to continue.

“My baker canceled on me, and the espresso machine is held together with duct tape, and there's a million other things going wrong, not to mention the fire alarm. And I just…”

Squeezing your eyes tight to prevent the moisture swelling in the corners proves unhelpful. To Soonyoung’s credit he stays silent, allowing you all the time you need to get your thoughts in order. But the hand on your back continuing to trace abstract shapes between your shoulder blades lets you know he’s there when you’re ready.

“It’s just been a rough week.” You say to the floor.

The admission lifts the ten pound weight off your chest. Soonyoung isn’t an employee you need to guarantee everything is okay to or a customer requiring a mask. He’s a…friend? It feels generous but if he was anything less you doubt he’d be where he is now.

“Is there any way I can help?”

You blow your nose into the tissue before laughing wetly. “I don’t suppose you have a magic wand, do you?”

“Just broke mine actually.” He winces sarcastically.

What’s another thing on your never ending to-do list? Along with the desperate need to buy more supplies for tomorrow, how difficult can it be to conjure artisan baked goods out of thin air?

“Actually,” Soonyoung perks. “Jihoon’s girlfriend works at a bakery. Pete’s? No, wait. Penny’s?”

“Petunia’s?”

“That’s the one! Maybe I can ask her if she can help?”

“Good luck.” You snort. “They couldn’t even fit me into their normal rotation.”

“We won’t know until we ask!” He chips, thrilled he can help.

Soonyoung jumps up, a cruel chill invading the space he once occupied. Like the sun moving behind a cloud and leaving you at the mercy of a cool breeze; there and gone before you can delve into what it means.

You hand him the order form you usually give your baker to relay to Jihoon’s girlfriend. While he steps out to ask for a miracle you focus on tallying how many cups, napkins, lids, and other miscellaneous items you need from the supply store across town. A few lone tears appear, falling without much preamble but the worst is out and stained on Soonyoung’s shoulder. You’ll get through it. With Soonyoung’s help you’ll get past everything, even if his efforts fall flat.

Seungcheol and Seungkwan confirm they’ve got things under control as you take your leave. Soonyoung is just visible in the dissipating morning fog hanging in the street. He paces the sidewalk, speaking into his phone animatedly before spotting you trying to sneak past him to your car.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” He cheers before hanging up and pocketing his phone.

“So?”

“They’ll do it! One of the other shops dropped out last minute and they have a lot of extras. Maybe not all the usual stuff but Rita said she can pull together most of the stuff on the form.”

Body frozen, you stare at Soonyoung with an open mouth and eyes wide. There’s no way he solved half your workload with one phone call.

“She also said they can try and work you into their usual orders. If that’s something you’re interested in…” Soonyoung trails off, glancing at you nervously.

In a blink your back in his arms, squeezing him so hard your arms hurt.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You chant into his chest.

“Of course.”

Stepping back, you blush at your own impulsiveness.

“Um, well…” you fumble, clearing your throat you get back to the task at hand. “I need to run to the store so I’ll see you later.”

“I can come!”

“No! I mean, you’ve already helped so much. I’d feel bad dragging you along.”

“Don’t worry about me, I'm just trying to make sure you don’t start crying again and cause an accident.”

“Okay, rude.”

Soonyoung ignores you, already strutting down the street.

“Your cars this way, right?”

“No.”

“Listen, I wanna come with you. I have nothing else to do today.”

“Cool,” You laugh, continuing the opposite direction Soonyoung headed. “but my car is still this way.”

The drive is pleasant. You learn more about Soonyoung in the thirty minutes it takes to get across town than you’ve learned in the weeks he’s been coming to the cafe. He has an older sister, he likes to volunteer at the youth center down the street in his time off, and he cannot work a computer if his life depends on it. You also learn more about his coworker turned best friend who also happens to be the boyfriend of your new god.

“Yeah Jihoon and I started the same day. He comes off kinda cold but it's all an act.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh, pulling into a cramped parking spot.

“One hundred percent. You should see him with Rita. I never saw him blush that much until they started dating.”

“How’d they meet?”

“Funny story.” Soonyoung shares, climbing out of the passenger seat. “So the bakery she worked at before had a fire. No one was hurt and they put it out before we even got there! But we went to make sure everything was clear. Well, Rita was there and I swear it was love at first sight for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

You both make your way inside the sliding doors; Soonyoung pushing a flat cart behind you through the aisles.

“He’s definitely mellowed out since he met her. Doesn’t work as much, thank god.”

“What about your girlfriend? Do you guys have the same Hallmark meet cute?”

“Oh! I don’t have a girlfriend.” Soonyoung mumbles, ears turning scarlett.

Your face heats as well. Whatever force compelled you to ask such a prying question revels in satisfaction to hear Soonyoung is in fact single. A tidbit of information you’ve never wondered about before.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything for today.” Rita says as she helps unpack everything onto the counter.

The cafe is scarce of customers, far past closing time but Rita said they’d be too busy delivering to their other customers in the morning to spare a trip to you. What's another Tuesday at the shop? It isn't like you have time for much of a social life given the million things you need to do.

“Really don’t worry about it. You're saving my life by getting me this stuff for tomorrow.”

“Well Soonyoung made a bargain I couldn’t refuse.”

You pause for a moment. Soonyoung didn't mention anything beyond the payment Rita quoted and later sent via email. Did he promise something from the shop on your behalf?

Swallowing the budding annoyance, you continue to work like nothing is wrong. “Oh?”

“I mean an entire month of covering Jihoon’s shifts? What kind of person passes that up?”

What?

Soonyoung offered to sacrifice all his free time to help you. Soonyoung who you barely know beyond the fact that he pretends to like black coffee. The man chews with his mouth open. Soonyoung who let you ruin his sweater with tears and snot from a horrible day.

“You didn’t know?” Rita asks, face full of mirth.

“Ugh, no,” you cough. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“I was shocked when he offered. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

But he did it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N?”

You find Rita smiling like she knows some big secret. If you had to guess, it's probably the same thing you're realizing now.

“Soonyoung’s a great guy.”

Words fail you because you know Soonyoung is a great guy. He held you when you cried, he comes in everyday without fail to turn off the alarm, and he just sacrificed a month of his life because it would help you.

Once you and Rita unpack the remaining cookies and cakes, she takes her leave but not before dropping another wink when she spots Soonyoung approaching from the direction of the fire house.

“Rita.” he greets at the door, holding it open for her exit.

“Hosh.”

And she’s gone without another word.

“How’s it going?” Soonyoung asks, rounding the counter to join you.

“Great!” You blurt with too much enthusiasm. “Rita ended up making everything we needed.”

A second set of hands assists in packing the glass display case in preparation for tomorrow's chaos. Soonyoung listens well. Patient to a T as you direct him to tweak things just so from the opposite side of the bar.

“Thank you for all your help this week. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to help.”

He continues to unpack the few remaining goods beneath the counter as he responds. “It’s not a big deal. What are friends for?”

“Hmm and you agree to cover all of Jihoon’s shifts for your friends?”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, you watch Soonyoung’s shoulder tense and his ears erupt into bright red. He’s so still he doesn’t even seem to be breathing at the shock of being caught. Each passing second heightens the smirk curling your lips.

“Oh, you heard about that?” He asks into the counter.

You saddle up beside him, dropping your head until his eyes meet your own. Each inch of space you claim next to him sends him away like an opposing magnet; until your sandwich between him and the hardwood.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Soonyoung backs away nervously but not before you catch the way his eyes cut to your mouth. Who knew all it took is a smile and batting your eyelashes to make chatty Soonyoung clam up? The shyness bubbling on the edge of your conscious fizzles with the new knowledge; instead, curiosity takes its place. How much more can you make him blush? What would he do if you grabbed his hand? Or if you took a chance and kissed him?

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” You smile around each word.

He opens his mouth to argue but it's moot with the way you gaze at him, eyes shining with mirth. Like you're laughing at some shared joke. Soonyoung will tell you whatever truths you want to hear if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Good.”

You step into his space with finality, chests brushing with each breath.

“Good?”

The edge of your teeth pinning your lip down is the only thing preventing a smile from ripping across your face as you answer. “Because I have a crush on you too.”

“Oh…” He nods, head dropping dejectedly and then it hits him and whips back up so fast his eyeballs rattle. “OH. You do?”

He watches you nod, slowly angling himself to connect your lips. When Soonyoung realizes you aren’t going to push him away, evident by the hand fisted in his sweater, he goes for it.

The curve of your lip, the breathy sigh you release into his mouth, the way you seem to go boneless with each pass are all committed to his memory. Soonyoung reminds himself to be good. That this is the first time he’s kissing you and he should be a gentleman; gentle, chaste, respectful.

And he would succeed but you’re acting like you have no interest in any of those things. You whisper another heavenly sigh into his mouth, trailing a hand in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull forcing Soonyoung to focus on batting away the demons at the edge of his mind rather than giving into temptation.

But when you tug to angle his head better the delicious sting drowns Soonyoung so quickly he has you pinned to the counter before he realizes what's happening.

Sometime later, when your lips are swollen and the floor sways beneath you from the flood of giddiness coursing through your veins, you and Soonyoung part. The crisp air of the late night tries in vain to nip at your face but you’re too distracted by the calluses on the side of Soonyoung’s thumb and the way they rasp against your knuckles as he walks you to your car.

The cafe is in full swing by the time Soonyoung comes in Wednesday morning.

All morning he paced across the cramped common room of the fire station. Sure you let him kiss you but what did it all mean? He knows you like him but did you like like him or just like him? Should he have asked you on a date? Would that be too forward? Did he mess things up by not immediately asking you out despite the fact he was so love drunk he ran into a pole after watching you drive off?

He fights the idea of running across the street and demanding answers. You’re definitely too busy to spare a second and tame the butterflies in his stomach. And how pathetic would he look if he asked you to explicitly dictate how you feel so no wires end up cross? And on Valentine’s day no less?

Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Or rather the fire alarm.

He watches you work like a tornado, pausing only to smile at him the same way you did last night when he did not so safe for work things against the very counter lined with coffee cups and steaming mugs. Flashes of memory heat across his face.

You thank him with his usual coffee and one of the cupcakes you set aside just for him. Except this time his paper cup is scribbled with a heart and something else.

Be my Valentine? _Yes _ Also Yes _ YES BUT LOUD

At some point he should tell you about the sensitivity setting on the alarm and how all you need to do is nudge the tiny lever to the right if you don't want it going off every time the steam builds up. But the way you beam at him when he steals the sharpie from behind your ear and checks all three boxes on the cup makes Soonyoung decide it’s a secret he’ll keep for now.

@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe

#svthub #svthub.collab #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung fluff #hoshi fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #🫡 highvern

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writing-in-the-impala · 3 months

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Secret Smokes (Part 10)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2960

A/N: A lovely human asked me today if this fic is over and I thought damn I got to update quick before I lose all my readers. Hope 2024 is treating you all well, here's to the first post of the year!

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 10, Next Chapter

You opened your eyes scanning the room you're in, first you saw the curtains shut. Clothes neatly pilled on the side, a messy stack of books and parchment. Then you turned around and saw the back of Remus's head as he slept peacefully. Thoughts of guilt, lust and memories flooded your head. You began to think whether he regrets last night, was it just a drunk mistake, what do you say to him when he wakes up. You felt him move and turn towards you, on his face a gentle smile. "Morning dear, how'd you sleep?" He asked and kissed your forehead.

"Really well, you?" He scooped you closer with his arms to his chest.

"Let's ignore the conversation we have to have now and just savour this moment." He whispered while cuddling close to you.

"I like that idea." You replied breathing in his smell. Your heart felt full and you felt so comfortable like this was the place you were waiting to be your whole life, and he didn't seem to regret it but rather welcome it.

"Now dear would you like some coffee? Breakfast?" He asked softly not letting you go.

"What a gentleman." You joked in return.

"I try my best." He said with a wink before kissing the top of your head and standing up, he put on a T-shirt and his trousers from last night. "I'll start making the coffee, rest as long as you want."

You lay there in naked confusion and bliss, you were happy but you were confused. You had no idea how you will face him in class after waking up in his bed. You got out of bed putting on yesterdays clothes and grabbing one of Remus's sweaters for warmth before making your way down to the kitchen. The room smelt of coffee, Remus looked younger for a moment with messy hair and wearing no socks on the cold floor as he made coffee. He turned around with a smile. "Good morning, nice jumper." He said with a wink. He winked a lot you noted, maybe he was just as nervous as you right now. "Do you like it with milk or black?" He asked.

"Splash of milk please, no sugar." You confirmed and he followed your instructions and handed it to you. "Perfect thank you."

"Care to join me on the roof for a smoke and coffee? Then we can think of breakfast plans." He said walking towards the stair case and you followed. You sat down side by side on two chairs, it was cold but you didn't mind. "You know this has always been my guilty pleasure, coffee and a cig the morning after, I thought it made me cool." He admitted looking out onto London.

"It makes you look cold, I'm not sure if cool is the right word." You said and he laughed lightly to response, shaking his head.

"It used to calm my nerves because I wasn't sure what to do with a girl in the morning after, how guys are meant to act, so I figured out to start my mornings with a smoke and conversation, not that this is a common occurrence."

"What you don't sleep with your students often?" you joked to ease your discomfort about this whole situation.

"I don't sleep with anyone often, especially students."

"Why?"

"Because they're my students and I have somewhat of a professional-" You interrupted him by saying "No I mean why don't you sleep with people often."

"Y/N you know what I am."

"So?"

"So, being around me, close to me is not only dangerous but also a burden to a persons life. Therefore I've found it's better to focus on solitude and not burden anyone else who I may possibly care for. Y/N I am not a man I am-" You once again cut in to stop Remus Lupin from his usual self-loathing pit. "I'm hungry."

He quickly checked his watch "We could go to a bakery about 5 minutes away they should be open, we can grab some pastries if you'd like."

"What time is it?" You asked in fear.

"Half past nine, why do you need to be somewhere?" He asked with a slight painful tang behind his voice.

"The Weasleys, I was meant to be staying there. I need to go before they all wake up." You said leaving your coffee and heading down to Remus's bedroom, Remus followed you down.

"I'm sure you'll be okay, just tell them you fell asleep on the sofa." He tried to calm you as you put on your jacket and gathered your belongings.

"No, I'll never hear the end of this. Molly will kill me." You said in panic.

"Y/N you're an adult they'll understand, just stay finish your coffee, I can write to Molly that you are here." He said placing a hand on your shoulder to calm you.

"I'm sorry Remus I don't want to run like this but I have to, I don't want to try and explain why I'm here in the morning. Happy new year." You simply said to him as his face dropped into a frown.

"Happy New Year." He said quietly and you apparated to the Weasleys house. You didn't know that you left Remus with a feeling of enormous guilt, he felt like he used the opportunity of you drunk to sleep with you and now you regretted it. He was reminded of your age by the way you rushed home, you may be eighteen but you still sometimes behaved like someone's daughter and that made Remus feel uneasy about perusing you, especially when you have to rush home the morning after. Rush home to a friend of his. The guilt ate him alive as he cleaned the coffee that you didn't finished and put out your half-smoked cigarette. In that moment he made a decision, he messed up, he got close to you and kissed you because he couldn't control himself and based on how you ran out the house you obviously regretted everything.

You on the other hand felt guilty for leaving, Remus treated you nicer than anyone else you've ever slept with, he made you coffee, he cared, it filled your heart with warmth, you knew you'll have to apologise for how you left. You slowly walked through the house up to the spare room you were staying in when you bumped into Percy who was going to the bathroom. He gave you a quick look up and down in a judgmental way and didn't even say hi, then as you passed the twins' room they opened the door with big grins. "Nice jumper." They both said at once. You looked down and saw you left in Remus's jumper.

"Shit." You took it off in that very moment in panic. "Don't tell anyone." You warned them.

"Our lips are sealed." They said in unison. "Although we will high five him next time we see him." Fred shrugged.

"Don't you dare Weasley." You warned.

"So how was sleeping with our dear professor?" George asked.

"Was it everything you dreamed of?" Fred added.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Was it at least good?" Fred pushed.

"The best I've ever had. And he made me coffee in the morning and hugged me and kissed me." You felt like you were melting just thinking about it.

"The best?" Fred repeated.

"Who knew prof would be so good." George added.

"Let's not talk about it, I actually have to sit in his class after this." You felt a bit sick at the idea, that was the end of that conversation. You quickly went to take a shower and change. After that you wrote a letter to Remus apologising about leaving so soon and thanking him for the coffee. He didn't reply. You sent him another three letters over the next few days making sure he's okay however he didn't reply. So you got the message, and he did regret it, he was just being nice to you in the morning because he was a good person. You were nervous to go back to Hogwarts but you decided you won't let New Years stop you. You came back a week before term, and you thought it may be good to bump into Remus before term starts to talk. You went to the bridge but he didn't, you knocked on his office but no one answered, you even tried to find him using the map but it was like he was always waking away from you.

You finally saw him on the first day of term, he was sitting eating breakfast in the great hall with all the teachers. You received and owl and it was from him but he didn't look up at you at all. The letter read:

"Welcome back to the new term miss L/N.

As previously agreed our tutoring continues to prepare you for you exams.

- Professor R.J.Lupin"

You looked up at him but he didn't look at you.

In his lesson that day you sat nervously in your seat, you were sitting next to Sebastian as you and Percy weren't on talking terms after New Years. "Are you okay?" Sebastian whispered watching you move around in your seat nervously waiting for Lupin to arrive to the classroom.

"Just nervous about exams." You explained to him, he put a hand on your leg to steady it. "It's okay you'll do great, I've got some calming fraught if you want it though." He said and you nodded. He slipped you the potion and you drank it, you didn't realise that around the time Sebastian put his hand on your leg Remus was walking in the classroom and watching the whole interaction. "Better?" Sebastian asked and you nodded in response. "Thank you." You said and he gave you a smile before moving his hand from your leg as you had stopped shaking from stress. Remus cleared his throat as he stood at the front of the classroom. "Welcome back I hope you've all had a good new year," Remus said, looking at you intensely during the last three words. You instantly felt hot however because of the position you didn't feel worried instead slightly turned on as you looked back at him, after a moment of eye contact he ripped his eyes away.

"Now I'm sure you're all nervous, but I will get you as prepared for your exams as possible all I ask is for you to listen and pay attention and that way I can help you." He continued, his eyes kept catching yours as if he couldn't look away and you were now enjoying the attention as all stress had left your body. However the closer to the end of the lesson it got the more the potion started to wear off and you could no longer look Lupin in the eye, he noticed the change in you and was very confused, he simply couldn't read you, he knew you took a potion however he wasn't sure what you took, he suspected it was calming draught but he had to ask you in your tutoring session if you show up. You considered skipping it but you knew you had to speak to Remus sooner or later and you didn't want to fail your exams because of him.

You lightly knocked on his office door filled with a bit of anxiety, he was sitting marking papers when you came in and he smiled gently at you but you could see he was on edge just like you. "Good afternoon Miss L/N. I hope you had a good Christmas." He greeted you and it filled you with anger that he was just pretending nothing happened.

"Can we talk?" You asked quietly sitting down on a chair near the front.

"Is it about your studies?"

"Obviously not." You snarked and he sighed pulling up a chair opposite you.

"We shouldn't, it's my responsibility to prepare you for your exams and" he began before you interrupted with a simple. "Remus." He loosened his tie and sighed.

"I'm really sorry Y/N. I'm really sorry for what I did, I should've been the responsible adult, I'm your teacher for fuck sake." He began and he looked visibly upset.

"Do you regret it?" You asked gently.

"Obviously, I shouldn't have put you in that situation. I pushed myself onto you, I knew my feelings for you I shouldn't have spoken to you at all if I was drinking."

"But I wanted to kiss you."

"Y/N I'm your teacher." He said as a matter of fact.

"So I don't care do you? Answer honestly."

"No." He shook his head and swallowed hard.

"Would you want to kiss me again?" He did say anything he just looked at your lips. "Answer honestly Remus." You added and he shook his head.

"Then do it." His eyes didn't leave your lips for a moment and then he made eye contact with you and he simply said "I can't."

"Why?" You asked him pleading.

"Because I am falling incredibly hard for you, and all I'm going to do is hurt you. Because I am your teacher. Because I can't offer you anything much more than a tea and a great music taste and an awful lot of knowledge on books."

"I don't care, you made me feel special, you make me feel loved." You continued to beg.

"Don't lie to me I saw how you ran out the house." He said with a angry and annoyed tone.

"I wrote to you three time to apologies, and you ignored every single letter." You said feeling like you're about to cry.

"You did?" His complexion changed suddenly.

"Yes. But I got the message that you rather ignore all this happened."

"Y/N, I wanted to make you coffee, take care of you and then talk to you like an adult about what this means for our lives here, but you ran out and the only letter I received was this from Percy." He said pulling out a letter that was crumbled up in his pocket, the address was Hogwarts, of course, all your letters went to the cottage but he didn't go there he came straight to the castle it all clicked.

"Why did Percy write to you?" You asked softly and he just handed you the letter to read.

"Dear professor Lupin,

As head boy I urge to remind you that you are our professor within and outside school grounds. And I believe you don't need to be reminded of school rules, especially for a man with your condition losing this job may be disastrous.

Happy new year, P. Weasley Head boy of Gryffindor"

"That prick." You said quietly and looked up at Remus. "I promise I didn't tell him anything."

"How would he know?" Remus asked he looked like you betrayed him.

"Your jumper," you began and Remus have you a puzzled look. "I came home in it the morning after and Percy saw me, he gave me a look of hate, we haven't talked since." You answered honestly. "Remus I'm sorry about this, can you ignore it and can we have this conversation based on our own opinions." You said and Remus sighed.

"No matter what I am your teacher and we've crossed a line."

"How do you expect me to focus in your lessons after what you've done to me professor?"

"Fuck you calling me professor like it doesn't turn you on." He said looking away and taking a deep shaky breath. "Can I kiss you one last time dear?" He asked and you nodded. And he leaned over the desk to kiss you slowly, the kiss was desperate and slow, as if he was savouring the moment, he put a hand on your cheek and tucked your hair behind your ear just like he did that first morning.

"Don't make it the last." You said as soon as he pulled away.

"Dear, as soon as you realise I'm just a broke man who's been cursed since childhood the sooner you'll realise you don't want me, so many men will be able to offer you the world, I won't."

"I hate you, I hate that you won't even give yourself a chance to be happy." You said feeling like you're about to cry.

"Y/N I'm trying to protect you." He pleaded.

"Or maybe you're just trying to protect yourself from feeling any good emotion in your life?" You said standing up. "Maybe you don't realise you're hurting me by not even trying, by leading me on."

"I'm sorry Y/N, I truly don't know what I'm doing, I wish I was, let's leave this conversation for another day let's start working on revision."

"Remus how am I meant to sit here and listen to you teach me while all I can think about is wether you like me just for sex, wether it's because you get turned on by fucking your student, wether you're just lonely and I'm convenient or wether an ounce of you actually cares about me."

"Y/N, if you want to have this conversation with me you need to act your age not frantically shout your thoughts at me like a school girl." He said harshly his mood becoming a lot more authoritarian.

"I am a school girl! I hate you Remus Lupin, I hate how you treat me, I hate you for making me feel like I mattered for you to just change your mind when it's convenient. I hate Percy for that letter. But I really hate you." You said pushing the tears away from your eyes.

"I'm not surprised, I hate me too." He said looking down at the desk and then he went silent.

"No Remus. I didn't mean-" You began realising your emotions got the better of you, truly you were scared about how much you liked him, how dependent you were becoming on him, how life wasn't the same without him.

"You've said enough. Goodbye." Remus said turning around and walking upstairs to his office without a single turn back to face you. And that was the last time you saw Remus Lupin that week, the next lesson you had with Lupin was taken over by Snape, and even your tutoring was now with McGonagall. Lupin returned on Friday evening, you saw him in the great hall during dinner, that's when you received and owl from him which was rare during dinner...

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

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#remus lupin x reader #student x teacher #teacher! Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #remus lupin #the maruaders #harry potter #remus love you #secret smokes #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #the marauders #sirius orion black

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

Text

The Man 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You think you remember. Or at least you’ve convinced yourself that you do.

You go through the painstaking steps as the dark presence looms across the counter. The man walks along, just on the other side of the machines as you steam the milk. Toffee nut, yes, you’re pretty sure that was it.

You put it all together, step by step, hands shaking. Your lips move as you talk yourself through your work silently. You can do this. You still feel how the man scratched you through your shirt when he grabbed you, your skin fiery.

You give one last look to the foam and send a prayer up to whatever deity will hear it. You slowly move to the till and place the cup down. You wet your lips and clear your throat.

“Almond, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” you declare, voice quavering as you stare at the bristle across the man’s upper lip. “Mr. Hansen.”

He clucks and leans on the counter, hooking one foot behind the other. He wraps his hand around the cup and slides it closer to himself. He stares down into as you fidget. You glance around at the baked goods.

“And a cinnamon bun?” You suggest but before you can carry through on the offer, a splash of liquid washes over you, hot despite the layer of steamed milk.

“Oat milk,” he crushes the empty cup in his large hand and throws it at your face. You sputter and blink as the foam drips down your cheeks.

“Sorry, sir, I’ll make it again.”

“Fucking right, you will, sweet lips,” he growls and stands straight, crossing his arms.

You pull the bottom of your apron up and wipe your face. You bend to pick up the empty cup and turn away. Your eyes sting and you wiggle your tingling nose. It’s fine. You can do this.

Oat, half blond, half regular, toffee nut, cinnamon on top. The smell of espresso and syrup clings to you as you make the death march back to the till. You set the cup down without a word.

Mr. Hansen, Lloyd, the boss, whatever he is, considers you as he lifts the drink and examines the careful leafy art in the foam. He turns it and inhales the scent, some of the foam catching in his mustache. He takes a breath as if about to dive into water and has a taste. The tip of his tongue pokes out as he pulls the cup away from his mouth. He hums. Does he like it?

Splash.

Another searing dousing and you stand there with a gasp, shaking off the dredge of his displeasure.

“Mr. Hansen, I--”

“First thing’s first. Shut the fuck up. You talk too much,” he tosses the cup. Bonk, right off your forehead. “Second, I changed my mind. Get me a mocha. Extra whip.”

You nod and keep your head down. You pick up the cup and stand, nearly slipping in the puddle around your feet. You dispose of the empty cup and go to the coffee machine. You begin your new task, hands clumsy and trembling. You add the whipped cream and return to the till. You put the cup down and grab onto the counter to keep from sliding through the liquid at your soles.

He lifts it and you wince, bracing for another deluge. He repeats the same deliberate examination. You swallow tightly as he samples your work. This time he doesn’t make a noise. As he lowers the cup, you flinch and take a step back.

He cackles, “relax, cupcake.”

You stare at him grimly. You flick your lashes and blow out your nerves. You hide your shaking hands behind you.

“Now you know who the fuck I am,” he says, “clean yourself up and get back to work.”

He grabs a package of the cookies along the small shelf beside the till then turns on his heel and struts to the door. You watch after him, damp and dripping. As the door opens and closes, you turn to face the mess. You sigh and go to grab the mop; you can clean the floor but you can’t do much for yourself.

You work at soaking up the excess then spray cleaner on the floor and wipe with paper towel to prevent it from getting sticky. As you work at sopping up the errant droplets from the counter, the door behind you swings open. You glance over your shoulder as Bre sweeps through.

“Alright, your turn--” She stops short as you face her. “What happened?” Her face slackens with dread and shock, “what did you do?”

“It was Mr. Jansen—Hansen,” you correct yourself, “he came by and--”

“I told you not to talk to him,” she hisses.

“I... I didn’t have a choice. He wanted a drink and--”

“Fuck. Fuck! What did he say? What did he do?” She snaps.

You recoil at her accusatory tone, “he... he threw coffee in my face? He took some cookies? I don’t know? He just... said now I know who he is. I didn’t really understand--”

“You don’t. You don’t understand. You don’t get it.”

You frown and cross your arms, “I’m sorry, Bre, I did my best--”

“Not good enough. You think it’s all fun and games. It’s not. That man is dangerous. Not just here, everywhere,” she shakes her head, “you’ll see. Out there, on your own. Give me your apron.”

“What?” You murmur.

“Get out. I’ll call Maurice and let him know it didn’t work out.”

“What? No, you can’t--”

“I am. Give me your apron. Now.”

You pout and sniffle. You reach back behind you and unlace the apron and lift it over your head. You hold it out to her, “it’s wet--”

“Just go.”

You hang your head and turn away. Your eyes begin to stream before you even get through the door. You grab your stuff from the backroom and give one last look around. You got fired. What are you going to do?

You fold your jacket over your arm and sling your bag from your shoulder. You let yourself out into the alley and head down to the street. You stop at the end and cover your face, sniveling behind your hands as you lean on the brick. You don’t want to go back home. You only just got there.

“Whatsa matter, sweet lips?” The low drawl is followed by a loud slurp, “bad day?”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #the man #au #drabble #mob au #series

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ed-recovery-affirmations · 2 months

Text

I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

#recovery diaries #ed recovery #restriction recovery #self care #food cw #long post

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 9 months

Text

Who's Counting?

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Smut +18)

Summary: Part 2 to So It Goes, but could be read as a standalone. Spencer and reader have been dating consistently for a couple of months, after finally admitting feelings for each other at a night in a bar. Other things, like their sexual experience were admitted as well. Reader, after plenty of lunches and dates with Spencer is ready to take that step with Spencer…if he’ll ever make the move.

Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving) fingering, penetrative sex with protection

Note: I’ve been kind of off lately with writing consistently, but for some reason I had a lot of inspiration when writing this one. So I hope you like it. I’m really happy with it!

Word Count: 7K

After seventeen more shared lunches, three actual dates, and many nights with Spencer even sleeping over at my place. It took nearly everything in me to convince him to sleep in the same bed as me. Spencer, it seemed, was hellbent on taking it slow. It was hard to take things slow, especially when the man I’m taking things slow with, just happened to be the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

On our eighteenth shared lunch, Spencer sat next to me on the dark green upholstered chair in his office. I loved his office. It was quaint with mismatched furniture and probably hundreds of books all over the place. He had framed pictures of his former co-workers/basically brother’s and sister’s kids on his desk. It smelled like coffee and grapefruit air freshener. And I loved it.

I brought leftover chicken curry over rice for us to split. Spencer, like always, provided the coffee. Dating a man with an impeccable memory proved useful when he always remembered my coffee order after hearing me place an order for it once.

“Coffee with a splash of oat milk and cinnamon,” Spencer said. He placed the drink before me on the desk as I handed him his lunch portion, “Oh, and I bought you some Hershey’s chocolate syrup in the mini-fridge,” he told me. Spencer smiled as he looked down at his plate, clearly proud of himself for the small gesture. It was small, admittedly, but it’s also one of the nicest things a man’s done for me.

“Did you really go out and get me chocolate syrup because I mentioned it fleetingly?” I proposed. I licked the back of my spoon and handed Spencer a napkin from my lunch bag.

“You like your coffee a very particular way,” Spencer said with a shrug, “I want to make you happy, Y/N. Even if it’s something small like making sure you’re never too cold or having coffee the way you like,”

“Even if you explain the logistics of it, Spence. I’m still going to think it’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me,” I confessed. Spencer looked away pointedly; somehow he’s the one that got embarrassed about this whole thing.

“Well you’re going to have to get used to it,” he replied. Spencer took a bite of the chicken, probably nearly burning his mouth of the molten sauce, “Because I’m gonna do it a lot,” he said with his mouth full, “Make you happy that is,”

We never really talked about an ‘us’ before. For the last couple of weeks, Spencer and I’ve certainly acted like a couple. We continued our daily lunches from before that night in the bar, but began to hang out more outside of work. After the night when he finally slept in my bed, I went out and bought pajama pants and tee shirts for him. So he wouldn’t have to sleep in his clothes again. Just like Spencer wanted to make me happy, I wanted to make him happy too.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s really not sexy,” I said, nudging Spencer on the shoulder.

He rolled his eyes, some of the sauce rested on the corner of his mouth. “Pfft. You find me devilishly handsome, freakishly sexy, and deliciously…”

“Annoying?” I interrupted, soaking up some of his curry on his plate. I smiled at Spencer’s hesitant glee.

“Nope. You find me sexy. I’m a profiler. I can tell.” Spencer quipped. He smiled with a mixture of mirth and coyish charm. Our knees touched under the table. My knees were bare and he was covered in his long gray dress pants. I felt the friction start at my kneecap and it jolted straight toward my lower stomach.

“Then why won’t you have sex with me.” I said. It came out more frustrated and rather angry than I intended. “I-I mean. It’s just….it’s been like a bunch of dates and my couch literally has an indent from you sleeping on it. And I mean, you clearly know that I’m attracted to you and I’m like pretty sure you’re attracted to me, but it’s just…”

Spencer's fingers reached up to my chin and tilted it up so I would be forced to look at him in the eyes. His gaze practically melted my insides. It was like that friction I felt turned into something like magma. His eyes bore into me and threatened him back with a gaze of my own.

“You’re very wrong if you doubt for a moment my attraction to you, honey. I just want you to know that’s not the thing I’m after. Sex with you is going to be amazing. But sex with you isn’t all that I want from you. It’s simply an added bonus.”

This man will truly be the death of me. But at least that death will be at the hands of multiple orgasms and intellectual conversation.

I choked as Spencer’s fingertips left my chin. He returned his hands to his lap and looked back at me. Our eyes met again and I offered him a soft smile. “You already make me happy, by the way. Happier than I’ve been in a very long time.”

Spencer’s eyes shifted from my eyes to where our hands almost touched. The table was cool against my palm, which seemed to sweat at the very thought of being brushed up against Spencer’s hand. Neither of us dared to make a move, waiting in the thick silence for the other to break the spell laid before us. It’s tense, the space between us. His brown eyes, once blazing in the bar that night, were soft with concern and worry. I’m smart enough, albeit a little naive when it came to romance, that the look in Spencer’s eyes was enough to warn me of what was to come.

“I’m glad.” Spencer admitted. His eyes wandered around the room before finally they landed on my eyes yet again. It was like we were two magnets, made up of opposing poles, unable to stay apart for too long. Somehow we always ended up colliding in an unbreakable way. And I couldn’t say I disliked those of being bound by the law of physics to Spencer.

“I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore.” I ventured, setting down my fork to look at Spencer dead on. His eyes were the window to his soul and I, in that moment, read exactly what he was doing. “I really really really really like you Spencer. You’re so charming and handsome. And seem to actually like me? I don’t get that often. So when I do get it, it’s really something to me. What I’m trying to say,” I paused, eyes searching Spencer’s face for flashes of disagreement, “is that I’m ready?”

“For?” Spencer teased playfully, knowing exactly what I wanted. He shifted in his seat, eyes shooting back and forth from my eyes to my lips. He was going to make me say it out loud.

Again.

“You know what I mean.” I whispered, my voice hushed even though we were completely alone. Though know one was in the room I felt a wave of unease rush through me at the thought of this conversation getting out. Spencer’s hands gripped me and a pressure from my shoulders seemed to release at his touch. I thought that I should be worried about how affected I am by him. I was completely enamored in the way he talked, the way he carried himself, the way he held my hand and bought me my favorite books.

“I think I do.” Spencer said, his eyes were like liquid sugar and they melted my resolve. They completely washed away anything that held me back. Looking at Spencer, with our knees touching, it was hard to think straight. I felt the fire build in me. It was like warm embers burning deep inside of me. It threatened to swallow me whole and I was tempted enough by Spencer’s fiery eyes to just give into it.

So it goes, I thought.

“I think you do,” I repeated. I slotted Spencer’s hand into mine and squeezed. My heart leapt when he squeezed back, a silent sign that we were on the same page. I’ve never been on the same page as someone before. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but sitting there with Spencer with my knees pressed against his and his eyes burning into my skin, I think that I’d like to feel it again.

***

Spencer, as it turned out, was quite romantic. And, as it also turned out, I quite liked being on the receiving end of being romanced by him. It’s not to say I didn’t do my fair share of romantic gestures for him. There was a never ending supply of gently used books and homemade sweets made especially for Spencer nearly every time I saw him, which quickly became every day. I loved our lunches, but something told me I was going to love the entire weekend with Spencer alone even more.

He rested his hand against my thigh as I drove up the winding Virginia country roads. Spencer, I learned, hated driving, but was an excellent co-pilot. In his spare time, he memorized maps so he would know exactly where he was. If I already didn’t find him incredibly endearing and adorable, I would have fallen head-over-heels for him right then and there.

“It’s not much further.” Spencer said. He didn’t even look down at the map that rested on his lap. He gestured with one hand, showcasing his excitement. The other laid gently on my thigh. I could feel the warmth from his hand, yet when his palm touched my skin I felt goosebumps crop up.

“I always forget how beautiful it is up here,” I commented, turning on the blinker.

“I think you’re trying to manipulate me into saying that you’re beautiful too,” Spencer teased. His eyes were dark in the lack of light, but I swore I saw the color I’ve been searching for in them.

“Why,” I asked, “is it working?” I offered him a toothy smile, unafraid of showing off my crooked teeth. It seemed so innocuous, smiling fully, smiling carelessly, but I couldn’t remember a time I did.

“Of course it is.” Spencer said, blushing crimson as I chuckled. His thumbs brushed against my leg, reminding me of what was to come. I pulled into the driveway, the little cabin that Spencer found online even more charming in person than on the computer.

“Jeez, I can’t believe you insisted on renting this cabin for our weekend. I would’ve totally been fine with us going Dutch at the crappy Sonic and boning in the back of your Volvo.” I joked, leaning over the console and kissing Spencer on the cheek.

He reciprocated, moving his face towards mine so our lips slotted together. Spencer's hands cupped my head, keeping steady against him. We kissed plenty of times in between the nineteen lunch dates and the countless times he crashed on my couch. Sometimes those kisses were sweet, as if my lips could break if he placed too much pressure on them. And other times the kisses were fervent and rushed, as if he couldn’t bear to not be close to me.

Yet this kiss found itself lying somewhere in between.

“Could you please just enjoy me being nice to you.” Spencer said with exasperation. His sigh made me giggle against his lips. And he swallowed it with another kiss. “And though this cabin is fancy, the hot tub is entirely for my benefit.”

“Oh please you say that like I don’t want to see you walk around with nothing on, Spencer Reid,” I scoffed, “You are aware that women are just as much of sexual creatures as men are.”

I gleefully watched as Spencer’s cheeks tinged a bright pink and then his eyes narrowed into my face. He studied me like he was looking at me for the first time. His thumb brushed against my cheeks, my chin, my bottom lip, and then it gently rubbed against my cheekbone.

“I am aware.” His hand had snaked down to my neck, bringing me closer and closer to his lips. “Very aware, Y/N.”

***

I slipped my swimsuit over one of the towel bars, letting it dry overnight. Spencer came up behind me, his hands seeking the warmth underneath my sweatshirt. They felt big against my waist and his thumb dragged against my hip. It was the parts of myself that hardly saw daylight, that were never touched, never kissed or caressed.

“I told you that the hot tub was worth it.” Spencer whispered in my ear. I turned around to face him. My back was pressed against the counter. I didn’t realize I craved domesticity with Spencer until seeing his bottle of aftershave and my tube of moisturizer coupled on the counter. It was that simple little detail that sent shockwaves of something I couldn’t quite pinpoint up my spine and out my fingertips.

“I did enjoy it. It’s another reason why I got to convert you to the Kindle. You can read with the peace of knowing you’re not hurting your book if it gets wet.”

Spencer grunted, as if using an eReader was an affront to humanity. “I would rather eat a book than to read it on an electronic device. Besides, we both know why you prefer your Kinder.”

“Kindle,” I corrected, “And why do I prefer my Kindle?” I continued, staring at a fixed point as Spencer’s lips dipped below my earlobe, kissing a patch of skin that he found to be particularly sensitive.

“The books you read on there aren’t the kind of books that you’d want people to know you’re reading.” He replied, continued to pepper kissing against my neck and I gripped his gray tee shirt for some sort of grounding. “But I could tell,” he whispered, nipping my neck, “what sort of book you were reading. You do this thing with your lips. You wet them, part them, and then you let out this little breath. It’s adorable. And those eyes of yours, Y/N. They dart around like you’re going to get caught. You hide it well, but not from me.”

“Spencer,” I panted, my fingers clawing at his shirt, begging for him to take it off and toss me on the creaky bed, “Please. It’s been forever since we’ve…..”

I didn’t know what it’s been since or even what we were. All I know is that whatever it is could break my heart or bring me back to life. Spencer’s hands gathered the fabric of my sweatshirt at my waist. His forehead dipped against mine and I swore I heard him curse something that sounded like my name.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Spencer asked, his voice husky with a potent mixture of want and need and desire, “This is your first time and I want to make sure you’re into this. You’re perfect and I want you to know that–”

I cut him off with a kiss. Somehow, I jumped up so my butt rested on the counter and I braced my hands on either side of Spencer’s head as I crashed my lips against his. Instinctively, his hands creeped up to cradle my face, holding me like I was something precious, something sweet, something fragile.

“I don’t break,” I choked out in between breaths and kisses, “So don’t be afraid to fuck me, Spencer.” I cursed, wrapping my legs around his waist as a way to tell him just how much I desired him.

Spencer, finally, gave into me. He moved us from the cramped bathroom, holding up my weight as he entered the bedroom. I was tossed against the bed, ricocheting against the hard, springy mattress. He hovered over me, his eyes scanning my face, focusing on my eyes, my nose, my lips before kissing my forehead. It wasn’t the searing kiss against my lip I imagined it would be. It was sweet. Endearing even.

He motions for me to sit up, taking the opportunity to remove my sweatshirt. Spencer kissed along the column of my neck, smirking against my skin at my responsive squeals and squirms. He used his other hand to take up home against my waist, fiddling with the waistband of my shorts. I watched as he glared at me in the living room when I came out wearing sleep shorts that could hardly be defined as shorts. Now, he traced the ruffle hem with a delicate attention that could only be defined as analytic.

“Spence.” his name came tumbling from my lips before I could stop myself. It was halfway in between a plea and a prayer. His hands, long and lithe, gripped my thighs as he spread me apart, “Please hurry, Spencer.”

“Oh sweetheart, I plan on taking my time with you. We’re going to figure out exactly what you like. And then some.” He said, sounding too much like a diabolical scientist for my liking.

I licked my lips and then parted them and then let out a little breath.

And then I felt my cheeks burn as Spencer’s knowing chuckle reached my ears. “I told you. You have a very obvious tell. I told you it was adorable.” He said in a hushed tone. “So fucking adorable.”

“I would probably be even more adorable without my shorts on,” I quipped, grinning like I was pleased with myself.

Spencer scoffed, running a hand up and down my leg until he reached the ruffled hem of my shorts. His fingers dipped underneath them, feeling my soft, untouched skin. “You mean this pathetic excuse for shorts? This tiny piece of fabric made with the premise of driving me fucking insane?” He cursed, his hand returned from underneath my shorts. This time he rested it against the waistband. “Where did you buy these?” He asked.

“Target? I think? Like last summer. But there’s just sleep shorts. You can get them, like, anywhere.” He nodded, still staring at where his hand rested on my bare stomach.

“So you’re not overly attached to this particular pair of shorts?”

I shook my head, confusing coloring my face. But then I felt a ripping and noticed how Spencer’s face contorted with effort. In his hands he held scraps of fabric that used to be my shorts.

“You did not just rip my shorts?!” I faux shouted, but it turned into laughter. “What was that, Spence?” I dragged him up by his shirt to yet again, kiss him. “My god, you’re such a dork.”

“I thought you’d find it hot,” Spencer whispered sheepishly. His lips grazed across my lips, burning into my skin as he spoke. “But I’ll admit, it’s a bit out of character.”

“Yes,” I nodded, still laughing, “It was hot, but out of character.” I knotted my fingers into his hair, brushing my lips against his face, searching for any bit of him to kiss. I felt him against my hip, the removal of the thin layer of shorts did little to hide his arousal from him, but it did make this feel all the more real.

Spencer must have been able to read my mind, because his fingers bore into my waist and he ground down against me, sending that familiar friction down my lower belly and out through my toes. “Oh god, fuck.” I cursed, licking my lips as Spencer’s teeth nibbled against my collarbone.

“More in character?” He teased, his tongue tracing against the dip in my neck. He smiled into it, unraveling me in one fell swoop.

“Yes, yes,” I groaned, my hips thrusting upward to match his motions. “Are we…going to? Can we?” I panted into his mouth, so far gone that I could hardly care for the desperation that was laced in my voice.

“Yes, Y/N.” Spencer cooed, his voice soft as he sank lower and lower down the bed. He stopped when his face was in line with my knees and kissed my rough kneecaps. “God, you don’t know how long I’ve waited to taste you. Can I? Can I taste you, Y/N?”

“Yes, but I thought we were going to, you know…” I said, my voice trailing off with embarrassment. With Spencer I never felt as if I was this blundering late bloomer with a glaring V-card in her late twenties. But with that gorgeous man practically begging to eat me out, I felt completely lost.

“We are.” Spencer clarified. “But penetrative sex sometimes isn’t enough for women to reach their climax. And considering this is your first time, I want you to be as relaxed as possible. So starting off with an orgasm, or two, usually helps with that.”

Oh.

“Cool.” I said, totally uncool. Spencer smiles, his fingers breaching apart my thighs as I give him the nod of approval. “You’re the expert on this I guess. I mean, at least before me. Not that you don’t know what you’re doing—”

I stopped in my tracks when Spencer’s nimble fingers pulled down my underwear. His face is eye level with my center, that aches for his touch. He placed gentle kisses along the insides of my thighs. It’s like we’re a Rube Goldberg machine. His kisses, his nips, his wandering fingertips elicit a chain reaction of my drunken moans, my teeth biting my bottom lip, my hands grabbing fistfuls of bedding. Spencer’s agonizingly slow pace threatens to be the actual death of me. He teases me, his tongue darting closer and closer to my center.

It has to be forever before he finally licks a straight line up my center. With careful trepidation tongue breaches my folds, unearthing a whole other universe of pleasure against my entire being. He pins my hips down, demanding my full attention and focus.

“Was that alright?” Spencer asked, his breath shocking my core unnervingly. “Did you like that, sweetheart?”

I knew by the tone of his voice that Spencer was teasing me. And I liked it. I knotted my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to my core. His tongue swirled around my clit and I squirmed against his face. I whined into my fist, attempting to stifle my whimpers.

“Don’t you dare,” Spencer ordered, snaking a hand that clutched around my wrist and brought it to my side. “I brought you to the woods for a reason, Y/N. There’s no one around. You can be as loud as you need to be, sweet girl.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” I whined, allowing the pleasure to envelope me in a warm embrace. “I feel so good, so good, Spence. Can-can you put a finger in? Please?”

Spencer sneered at the question in my voice. Like there was a chance in hell that he’d deny my request. He slipped a finger into me and I instinctively tightened around him. Spencer’s voice shook with pleasure as he sung a string of swear words.

“Take your bra off, sweetheart.” Spencer pleaded. “Touch your nipples for me. It’s an erogenous zone for women. Your pleasure will be intensified.” Scrambling to follow his instructions, I tossed my bra to the floor and watched a stunned Spencer stare at me.

“Oh baby,” Spencer whispered, “You’re stunning. I could spend forever just staring at you.” He continued. “Do you like it when I have a finger buried inside this pretty pussy?”

Spencer’s palm brushed against my clit as his finger pumped in and out. I couldn’t respond to his question, yet I believe that my pathetic, desperate moans answered sufficiently. He licked his lips, parted them, and then let out a little breath. I smiled.

“You’re turned on.” I cooed, though it took all the strength in the world for me to string together the words to complete the sentence, “You did the thing.”

“Yes, I’m turned on, Y/N. Jesus, is the sky blue. You’re just too beautiful for your own good. Look at you.” He brought his lips to my core again, his tongue entering me as his finger continued to draw out moan after whimper.

“I think you like being full, baby.” Spencer assessed. “Would you like me to try another finger? Hmm? See how full you can be?” He asked, his eyes burned into my skin. It was like he was already replaying the memories of tonight in that amazing, brilliant brain of his. He watched me with a tenderness that I didn’t feel worthy enough to be viewed with.

He slipped another finger into my center, filling me to the brim. I squirmed against his palm, the friction from the movement electrifying my clit as I whimpered into the crook of Spencer’s neck. He toyed with my nipples, alternating between quick, sharp touches and wet, soft kisses that drove me half insane and half drunk with need.

“I–I think I’m close, Spencer.” I plead, as if I’m making a deal with the devil himself, when in reality I’m on the brink of Heaven being ushered over by my very own guardian angel.

“I know you are, sweetheart. I can tell. Your heart rate is speeding up and you’re so tight around my fingers. I can feel you throbbing around me, baby. Just a little bit more. And you’ll come all over my face? Huh? For me. Get you nice and relaxed for my cock.”

His crude words were a stark contrast to the gentle, yet firm way he coaxed her climax. Spencer’s steadfast way he guided her was evident through the bead of sweat that gathered against his brow. He studied her with deep concentration as she rode out her high.

“That’s my girl.” Spencer praised. “That was so good, baby. How did that feel? We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to. It’s at your pace. Whatever you want, Y/N. At whatever speed you want.”

God, if I hadn’t fallen in love with him already, I would’ve crashed from a skyscraper from that moment alone.

“That was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” I panted, dragging Spencer up to my lips for a kiss. I tasted my arousal on his lips, something that I never thought would be hot, but somehow with Spencer it was. He grinned with a self-satisfied smirk that told me he would want to do what he just did again and again till he either got bored of it or died doing it. “But I need you. Naked. Like yesterday.”

Spencer chuckled. It vibrated through me. The sound of his laughter was enough to bring me back to life. I watched him, with my legs that felt like jelly, lift his gray cotton tee shirt and reveal his stomach and shoulders. It would take me several hands to count how many times I’ve hugged Spencer. He told me, in the beginning, that he was apprehensive of physical touch. But he, somehow, didn’t feel that way around me. I think it was because he felt safe with me. Whatever we shared, whether it was love or respect or a mutual sort of appreciation of each other, the one thing that ran constant was this sense of safety. Together, we lived without fear of judgment and ridicule.

So when I saw Spencer without his shirt on for the first time, it wasn’t like I didn’t know what to expect. I could feel his body when I hugged him, when we laid on the couch together and he pretended to fall asleep so he could spend the night cramped on my small sofa for the sole purpose of being able to make me breakfast in the morning. I knew where his body was soft, where it was lean and lithe, where he felt so strong he could break me in two without really trying, where he felt gentle.

Yet there was very little that could have prepared me for how Spencer looked without a shirt on. His hair was damp and I could smell my lavender soap that he stole. It clung to his neck and spread out in soft, brown waves. He wore gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. My eyes were directed to the slight V that formed and the trail of hair that most definitely led to somewhere I wanted to discover, to claim as my own, to plant my flag on…

“The way you’re staring at me,” Spencer started, “It’s very dangerous.” He said, his voice lower than usual as he watched me. My knees were clamped together as I rubbed my thighs, desperate for the slightest bit of friction. I decided that I no longer wanted to wait for either Spencer’s permission or his advice because it certainly seemed that he got off making wait and it was probably time to take matters in my own hands anyway.

I crawled to the edge of the bed, pulling Spencer forward by the drawstring of his sweatpants. Kissing along his stomach, I listened gleefully as his bodily responses to my ministrations. With an encouraging hand, he gently rubbed his thumb over my bare shoulder blade as my fingers reached his waistband.

“May I?” I asked, suddenly understanding why he found consent so sexy. I wanted to hear him beg for me. “May I take off your pants, Spencer?” I asked again, biting my lip in a ridiculously sexy way that would have been funny if either of us wasn’t so turned on to realize it.

“Yes,” Spencer sputtered out, as if his tongue was getting in the way of his speech. He bit his lip as my fingers reached into his sweatpants to reveal that he decided to forego underwear. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

“I–I don’t know what I’m doing with that.” I confessed, as Spencer’s sweatpants fell to the floor in a heap. “It’s a little intimidating.”

Spencer’s hand brushed my hair out of my face, “It’s okay. I’m so turned on that I’m not even going to need much. But I’ll show you, honey.” He reached down to hold my hand against his and then brought it to his erection. “There,” he said, the strain in his voice apparent. “Just like that. You can move your hand back and forth. Or…ah, that. Yes, that.”

I brushed my thumb over the head of Spencer’s erection, watching with a small bit of pride as his face twisted in pleasure. He, however, had enough strength to reconnect our lips. His hand crawled up the back of my head and pulled me towards him. I continued to drag my hand up and down his hardness as he moaned into my mouth. My name sounded like a cursed prayer or a sacred swear against his lips.

“I’m not gonna last, sweetheart. Your hand is too much as it is. I don’t think I’ll take it any much longer.” He pleaded against the expanse of my throat. Spencer left a collection of hickies as he let out a string of curses while I scrambled for the condoms I packed.

Finally, I found them. I said a silent prayer to whatever deity out there that was okay with premarital intercourse for providing me with the forethought of splurging for the 24 pack of condoms. I tossed Spencer one, watching as he tore it open and rolled it onto his leaking erection with precision.

“I’m ready for this, Spencer. Believe me, but I’m still just nervous. I know it doesn’t really mean anything. But it’s just…it’s silly. I know. But–”

He interrupted me, hushing my fears with a kiss. “I’m not going anywhere after this happens, Y/N. I want to see you like this, all splayed out for me, so sexy and needy. I want to see you with toothpaste stains on your ratty college tee shirts and ridiculously tiny sleep shorts. I want to see you at work and have to pretend that I don’t know that you have these freckles under your left knee that look like Orion. I like you a lot. So much that I’m more than half sure that I’m already fully in love with you.”

His fingers selfishly dug into my skin, marking me as his with greed and desire. I danced my fingers around his torso. If I could kiss every inch of him, I would with ease. I would’ve worshiped him sooner, knowing what he was hiding underneath his gray suits and striped sweater vests. With the way his eyes lit up as he gazed at my face, my neck, my chest, and then lower and lower, I actually felt myself fall in love with him.

It was with the ease of a well oiled machine’s gears falling into place that I fell in love with him. It was with the simplicity, yet wonder of a sunrise that I fell in love with him. It was with the joy of listening to him ramble about some arbitrary scientific topic that I didn’t know the first thing about that I fell in love with.

“You’re a wonder, Spencer Reid.”

He tsked, the vibrations tickled my shoulder as he kissed me over and over. I hummed in response as my hands snaked around his waist, wanting him as close to me as possible. Spencer caressed my breasts, pulling a pebbled nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. His lightly calloused fingertips provided a delicious friction that caused me to cry out in pleasure. My hands found their home in Spencer’s hair, tugging his lips closer to mine. Just kissing him brought me to a state of pure bliss, I wasn’t entirely sure how I would handle what was to come.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Spencer asked, desiring my consent yet again. “You don’t have to do this just to please me. I’m entirely happy to have just done what we’ve done. I have a suspicion that eating you out is my favorite part.”

I laughed with my head thrown back. It exposed my neck and Spencer took the opportunity to kiss and nibble along a rather sensitive patch of skin. I giggled and Spencer smiled, clearly pleased by my happiness in the situation.

“I mean we could just do that again.” He offered with a shrug. I kissed him, bringing his head even with mine as I pulled both of us flush against the mattress.

“I’m ready, Spencer.” I panted, wrapping my legs around his waist and rutting against him. I cried out at the friction, my will and resolve hanging on by a thread. He leaned down to whisper into my ear as he held himself steadily above me.

“You’re ready?”

“I’m ready. Don’t make me beg. It’s not cute, Spencer.” I puffed with a touch of annoyance, which Spencer found rather hilarious.

“On the contrary,” Spencer observed, his eyes scanning my naked form, “I think you’re adorable when you beg. But if we’re being honest, I think I’m the one that’s desperate for you. For this. For us to be something.”

“Fine. It’s cute when you do it.” I commented, brushing my fingers through Spencer’s hair as he smiled at me. “So you’re going to show me how to do this, right? Because I’m kind of lost by now.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Spencer said, his hands slipping down to my thighs and cupping underneath my knees. He spread me apart, kissing the soft skin of my inner thighs with an intense concentration. “I got you.”

I gulped and licked my lips as Spencer breathed against my torso. “Why are you the one that seems nervous?” I asked, half joking, half serious.

“You’re just too gorgeous for me. There’s so many things I want to do with you. But just looking at you is enough to drive me insane. You’re perfect. The most beautiful, funny, kind, wonderful, exciting girl I know. And you’re letting me….do this with you. Fuck, it almost makes me want to believe in miracles.”

Spencer, lost in his passionate ramble, nearly lost it when I rutted my hips against him. I decided he needed me to show him my desire for him, rather than continue to talk about it, as he was hellbent on showing me. He whispered praises for me, for my body, for my mind and our future as he kissed along my lower belly.

I nodded, the pressure that built in my belly was almost too much for me to bear. I cried out as I felt Spencer’s thumb rub tight, close circles around my clit. He positioned the head of cock against my core, teasing me as I whimpered against his shoulder.

“Fuck…how doesn’t this already feel so good.” Spencer cursed, holding himself above me. He wrapped my leg around his hip as if the motion could lock us together perfectly. “I’m going to let you get adjusted. Remember, anytime you need me to stop just tell me.”

“God, I’ll strangle you if you stop.” I panted, closing my eyes as Spencer’s cock inched deeper and deeper inside of me. I dug my hands into his shoulder, sure that I would leave bruises against his freckle speckled skin.

“Kinky. I didn’t think you would’ve had it in you. Then again. I’ve seen your Kindle history.” He teased, his hand gripped my leg as he tightened his hold on me.

“Enough about the lumberjack.” I panted with exasperation, much to Spencer’s enjoyment. He giggled against my collarbone as I concentrated on my breathing. I felt him fill me up, until he was fully buried inside of me. His talented, thin fingers continued to wreak havoc on my nerves.

“I doubt he could make you feel this good, baby.” Spencer cooed, lifting my leg to increase the depth of how far he was buried inside of me. He opened his mouth in pleasure, desperate himself for the sacred bodily contact that existed between the pair of us. I yelped, the pressure that boiled in my lower belly burned with a fiery passion that was unfamiliar.

“God, no. Fuck no.” I cursed, capturing Spencer’s lips in a toothy kiss. I felt the creases of his bottom lip against my tongue as I bit down. Spencer thrusted in and out of me, my folds dripping with heady pleasure. His thumb and index finger flicked and rubbed against my swollen clit as my cries cascaded around the room.

His one hand remained at my leg, hoisting me up closer and closer to where our bodies met as one. He gripped my flesh with greed, as if he already knew I belonged to him, body and soul. Spencer’s nimble fingers speed up his ministrations against my clit as I clenched around his cock. He smiled, kissing me as he praised me for taking him so damn well.

“That’s it. Fuck you’re so pretty with my cock buried inside of you, darling.” He sputtered, his one climax approaching as he edged me to the brink of pleasure only to rip the carpet out from underneath my feet. “You’re adorable if you think I’m going to let you go this easily. We’ve got the whole weekend for soft and sweet, Y/N. But right now, I want you to come around my cock so hard you see white. Can’t you do that for me, babe? Come for me.”

His tongue traced my bottom lip, tasting me as he chanted my name over and over. His voice was husky with desire and I could smell my lavender shampoo as his hair tickled my nose and chin.

Virginity is made up. It isn’t anything, really. And it went against every moral fiber of being to admit it, but as Spencer’s fingers worked against me and how his hips thrusted against my pelvic bone I knew that I belonged to him.

Yet it would make me a fool to not admit that he didn’t belong to me in the same way. I wrapped my leg tighter around his bottom, forcing our lower halves closer as we teetered oh so close to the edge. I felt hazy, as the lavender shampoo wafted over me, I begged to stay in it with Spencer. The lavender, the haze, the sound of his stifled moans as I clenched around him in a wanton desperation was all too much, yet it beckoned me forward.

“Come for me, Y/N.” Spencer urged, “Just like before, just like you do when it’s your fingers buried inside this pussy, wishing it was my cock.” He mumbled the encouragement across my sweat-stained skin as I approached my climax. I felt my second orgasm approach as Spencer rested his forehead against mine, kissing my nose as his hip movements continued. I clutched his face, desperate for more kisses, for more skin touching skin, for more Spencer.

“Spencer.” I panted, my orgasm causing my muscles to contract and release around Spencer’s pulsing erection. I felt him swallow a moan as he laced his fingers together with mine and kissed my knuckles.

“Fuck.”

He cursed. His lips dipped the hollow part of my throat. Spencer’s hips gave one, then two, and then three more sloppy thrusts as his cocked leaked into the condom. I felt a warmth that I had never felt before spread from my lower belly. A flush followed as Spencer’s fingertips traced against my breasts, causing my nipples to stand alert and pebbled.

“That was perfect.” I whispered. I kissed Spencer’s shoulder and clung to him in the haze that settled between us. “It was different than I expected. I guess when you’ve waited so long you build it up in your head. But then I waited even longer after that. So, it was better than I ever could’ve imagined. So thank you.” I flushed, my cheeks ablaze under Spencer’s intelligent gaze.

He continued to rub my nipple in between his index finger and thumb. I gave him the side eye, as if my single glance could read what he was thinking.

“Did you know that it’s possible for some women to have orgasms from nipple stimulation alone?”

“We have the entire weekend, you know? Besides, I’d feel bad. You only came once and I had like two and a half.”

“Pfft,” Spencer scoffed, “Who’s counting. Besides, I would much rather watch you come on my face or come from me playing with your nipples than me coming any day.”

I rolled my eyes and kissed Spencer on the forehead. “You’re an anomaly, you know that, babe? Why not after we eat? I’m starving. Sex makes me hungry I guess.”

I hissed as Spencer pulled out. It took a second to get adjusted to the sensation of him not being deep inside of me. But there was something that told me I wouldn’t have to wait very long.

“Studies show that we burn calories during sexual intercourse. A twenty-four minute session is said to have males burn 101 calories, while females burn 69 calories. And given that our session lasted quite a bit longer than twenty-four minutes, it’s safe to suggest that you’ve burned enough calories that it necessitates energy consumption in the form of food,” Spencer rambled, “Which makes me remember. You need to use the bathroom. UTIs and all.” He shuddered.

“Yes, Doctor.” I giggled as I slid past him on the bed. His hand, big against my upper arm, clawed at my skin. “After the snack can we try something where you just wear jeans and suspenders? I mean you did bring me into the middle of the woods. We’re literally surrounded by nothing, but lumber. Why not put my wild imagination to good use?”

—

Thank you for reading! Remember that liking, commenting, and reblogging helps writers to keep inspired and appreciated. I love hearing feed back from you!

Tag List (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged)

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @foxy-eva @radiant-reid @reid-ingandweeping @smurphyse @reidsaurora

#this is me rambling #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction

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boozenboze · 1 year

Text

Dose of Caffine

Tf 141 x Male reader

Summary:Being a Captain in the military causes a lack in sleep.Drinking some coffee could convince them to stay awake, while a certain someone encourages them to sleep

Captain John Price x Male reader

Being one of the captains on the base was tough. No matter what you always have papers to sign and recruits to put in line. Feeling his body beginning to relax. He pushed himself out of his seat and made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet, as well as some fresh dark roasted coffee beans. Once the coffee finished brewing he poured himself a cup and let it cool for a moment. l took a sip of it and sighed at the comforting warmth traveling down my throat. After I finished, my heart was beating much faster and I felt more awake. “I’ll be able to finish those papers, hopefully.” I said to myself as I went back to my office.

M/n’s body was slouched over his desk. He had fallen asleep and some of his drool dripped onto the papers. Sure the Caffine should’ve kept him awake but it seems that it failed. His light snores could be heard because of the silence in the room,besides the slight crackling noises of a candle that he had lighted. The rhumps of his heart got louder until his eyes snapped open.

The male jolted up, eyes averting in every direction. He looked down at his paper that had small drops of his drool. He sighed as he wiped the excess of, leaving the paper slightly damp. He glanced at his coffee for a moment before sighing. He suspected that he hadn’t been sleep long since the mug was still warm. It was about to be a long night.

How long has it been now... 2 hours? Its 3 am now and I feel tired.I really wanna get this shit done now. I understand im a Captain but jeez, I think my eyes wanna pop out their sockets. I don’t know how much longer i’ll be sitting here, I just hope it’s not for long. My sleeping schedules already been fucked up for the last few days, I think I’ll start going crazy if I don’t sleep.

The male hadn’t slept at all that night. The amount of caffeine he had consumed the previous night made his adrenaline high. Not to mention he was anxious and it didn’t help that his heart was still pounding against his chest. He had dropped off the documents to their respected places and took a breath kf relief. After that he had his breakfast and downed a tall glass of orange juice.It was sweet, not to mention healthy. Despite that, the taste of that french vanilla dark roast still lingered in his mouth, and gave him an itch to drink some.

A sip of coffee wouldn’t kill him right? It’s just coffee,plus it was his favorite flavor. Then with a splash of milk made it so much better. The h/c haired male stood up and went to the coffee machine. Someone must have dumped out the coffee he had made the previously since the pitcher was empty. He sighed and repeated the process he had done the previous night. Just as he was about to take a sip a familiar voice filled his ears.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough C/n?” The voice said, M/n looked and saw John Price. The two knew each other quite well and M/n chuckled lightly, blush dusting his face.

“Hey Price...didn’t see ya there.” M/n said as Price took the cup out his man making the h/c haired male sigh.

“Price come on, it’s french vanilla it’s the best flavor!” M/n complained as Price put the coffee to the side.He examined the males face and saw how red his eyes were, which made his gaze soften.

“Did you sleep at all L/n?” Price asked as he gently put his hand on the males cheek, which made him hum and lean into the mans touch.

“Negative, had to finish those damn files and documents so I couldn’t.” M/n responded as Price hummed to himself, stroking the males cheek before leaning in and kissing him on the tip of his nose.

“Lets bring you to bed eh, your gonna need it.” Price spoke as M/n nodded in response, allowing the man to lead him to his room.

“Can I have my coffee afterwards though?”

“Negative.”

That ended up being the best nights sleep the male had in a while

#gay #male reader #cod x male reader #captain price x male reader #male y/n #lgbtq #mw2 x male reader #john price x male reader

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revengeghoulette · 6 days

Text

Matcha Latte w/ Rose

Part 1: The Meet Cute, Barista Swiss x Professor Mountain

I’ve had this idea written down since February, because a friend made me a matcha latte with oat milk and a splash of rose and I was like yup this is definitely Them. I also definitely did not describe my dream of owning a book & coffee shop.

No mentions of matcha this part, but definitely next part.

@divine-misfortune bc i really enjoyed your tags :) @obsidianghoul, @gottagho-st @foxybouquet @rainsbasspick @hypnoneghoul bc Swissalps

Slightly edited, might go back in and edit some more

Swiss works at a quiet little bookstore and coffee shop owned by an elderly couple. They’ve been training him to take over the business since they're too old to be doing this sort of thing, and want to leave it to a local who will take care of their business. He’s always wanted to be a businessman and run a little local shop. A safe space for all the so-called weirdos in the community, especially the college kids trying to figure out who they are. Fresh baked goodies round the clock, fresh coffee, a bookstore with an upstairs quiet area for studying with sleeping pods in case anyone needs a place for the night, or just needs a nap.

Once he officially became the owner, he changed its name to Rosy Crown Bookshop and Cafe. He hired a few teens, a handful of part-time college kids, and his friends Mist and Sunny, who help run the bookshop side of things and do other management stuff.

Swiss enjoys working as a barista and running the cafe. He enjoys seeing all the new faces at the start of the semester, but mostly, he enjoys the fact that his coffee shop is the go-to study place. He also hosts study sessions, trivia nights, and other little destressors for students. During midterms and finals, the cafe would be open 24/7 for those procrastinators and extreme studiers. Mist, Sunny and Swiss don’t mind staying open for them and working long hours.

The start of a new semester was around the corner. New faces were slowly starting to roll in, exploring the bookshop, trying the seasonal drinks, and a few asking for employment. Many nervous freshmen calm down after chatting with Swiss, knowing they have a safe space to come to for studying.

Swiss was finishing opening the coffee shop when he walked in. He’s tall, slender, wears glasses, tousled reddish brown hair that matches the autumnal leaves outside. Swiss was taken aback by this beautiful man… wait no. Ghoul? There’s a certain scent to him. He was too distracted to notice that he was ringing the bell for assistance. Snapping out of it, Swiss walks behind the counter to take his order.

“Hi, welco-” Swiss starts, but never finished.

The man looks up the menu, only to say “12 oz drip coffee.”

Swiss is shocked at the man’s abruptness, “oh sure, name?”

“Mmmm…ark. Mark,” the hottie answers with some hesitation.

Swiss smiles because it reminds him of those customers that like to make up names for their orders like Obi Wan or Rapunzel, “Mark?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, ca-can we rush this? I’m late for my first day,” the ghoul man stammers out

“You got it!”

Swiss turns around to fill a cup with drip coffee. Before handing the cup over, he scribbled out a little message on the sleeve, “Good luck”

“Here you go, on the house,” Swiss slides the coffee across the counter.

“No, I have to pay,” he insists, fishing for his wallet in his messenger bag.

“Mark, I’m serious. It’s on the house. Now go before you're even more late,” Swiss shoos him away playfully.

The day goes on smoothly, but Swiss couldn’t get Mark’s smile out of his mind.

“Whatcha doin’ there Swissypoo,” Mist pokes Swiss while he’s staring off into the distance as she wraps her apron around her waist.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Swiss tries to play it off. Mist chuckles because she doesn’t believe him, but won’t push it.

The entrance bells ring announcing the arrival of a customer. Swiss stands up a little taller, and dusts off his apron. Mist looks between the customer and Swiss. There’s something there, so she hangs back, refilling the caramel sauce squeeze bottle, watching them interact.

“Hi, welcome back,” Swiss smiles at the man.

The man in front of him looks almost embarrassed, apologetic, “Hi, I’m- uh, sorry about um earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” he brushes him off.

“I’ve felt bad all day so I thought I’d come and buy a little celebratory pastry,” the stranger flashes him a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little bit.

“How did today go?”

“It was actually pretty good, thank you. Can I get a slice of the carrot cake please. Can you make it to go?”

“Absolutely,” Swiss grabs the slice and places it on a box, scribbling ‘For surviving the day’ on the lid before handing to him, “Here you are.”

“Thank you! I’m Mark, by the way. I know I told you earlier, but I wanted to properly introduce myself.”

“Nice to meet you, Mark. My friends call me Swiss.” Swiss extends his hand for a hand shake and Mark meets his hand, static shocking both of them.

Mist was right, there was something there. She was definitely going to question Swiss once this guy leaves.

“What the fuck was that?” Mist pushes Swiss to the back of the house, slapping his arm.

Laughing, Swiss pushes Mist away by pushing her forehead, “What do you mean?”

“Dude, sparks were literally flying. C’mon spill.”

“Nope! My shift is over, BYE!”

With that, Swiss takes off his apron, and leaves the shop. Mist is flabbergasted by what just happened.

Mark came in every morning that week to get coffee before jetting off to work. Everyday Swiss would write a little something on the sleeve of the coffee cup, or on the napkin with his pastry. Mark has never mentioned them, but Swiss is hopeful he saw them.

It’s Saturday, and he’s not expecting to see Mark, but it’s a nice surprise to see him walk in and take a seat at one of the corner tables. After setting his bag down, he walks up to the counter.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Well, hello stranger. Can I get you your usual?” Swiss asks as he’s about to turn around.

“No, actually. I was wondering if you could make me your favorite drink. I don't usually drink like those fancy coffee drinks, but my TA was giving me shit for always drinking the same thing, so I wanted to explore different caffeinated drinks, I guess, and I didn’t know where to go, so I figured since we kind of have a rapport I could ask you. Oh my goodness, I'm rambling, I'm sorry!”

Swiss smiles kindly at him, chuckles a bit. “TA? Are you a teacher?”

“I’m a professor at the local university,” Mark explains.

“Emeritus Tech? I graduated from there! But yes, why don’t you go sit down, and I'll make you something”

Mark takes a seat and pulls out his laptop and a book. Swiss returns with a latte.

“This here is a vanilla latte. Everyone says ‘it's basic,’ but it’s a good beginner coffee drink if you’re just starting to explore the coffee world. You can change the flavoring and the type of milks used. It’s vanilla flavoring, a shot of espresso, and milk with some foam on top,” Mountain lifts an eyebrow at the design on top, “It’s a swan,” Swiss answers his unspoken question, flashing him a smile, “I used oat milk because I find that it gives it a creamier, slightly thicker consistency. Enjoy. I’ll make my rounds.”

Swiss leaves Mark to his own devices, but he watches him from behind the bar. Mark takes a cautious sip from the mug, closing his eyes and savoring the taste. He didn’t know coffee could taste so good. He just stuck to drip, because he was too scared to order or make different drinks.

As the afternoon crowd slowly started to leave, Swiss began cleaning around, organizing shelves and restocking books and coffee supplies. Mark’s eyes would often wander to Swiss. He’d catch him dancing, humming to himself, reading the summaries of books before shelving them. Mark was entranced by Swiss’ silly little shenanigans.

Mark stayed late to finish his lesson plans. Swiss occasionally brings him water, or a sweet treat against Mark’s wishes, but he still eats them. Mark wraps up his plans, grabs his things and leaves, waving goodbye to Swiss.

Swiss switches off the open sign after staying open an extra hour just for him. He grabs a rag and a bin to clean off the table Mark was sitting at when he finds something scribbled out on a napkin.

“Thank you for all the notes on my coffee and pastries. Call me -M” with his number written below.

A giant smile forms on his face, he looks at the note again because he doesn’t believe it real. He’s so happy and excited that his tail unglamours and wags with happiness.

From across the street, Mark watches as Swiss’ tail wags, admiring the dimples on his face. He’s so beautiful, Mark thinks.

Swiss finishes closing duties and gives Mark a call after locking the door, to keep him company while he walks home.

“Hello?” a groggy voice answers

“It’s Swiss, sorry is this too late? I can call at a different time.” Swiss starts to panic, scared he woke him up.

“No, no. It’s okay. I was just dozing off on the couch. I- I, thanks for calling, I-” Mark breaks out into a quiet giggle, “Oh this is dumb, but I wanted to hear your voice,” Swiss blushes hearing Mark say that, “Oh, also, you have a cute tail.”

“Wait. You saw that?!” Swiss is shocked. He thought he was alone, or at least, didn't think anyone would be paying attention to him.

“Sure did, and my name's Mountain, not Mark, and I also have a tail.”

Swiss is relieved by the confirmation that he’s also a ghoul.

“Mountain… I like it. It suits you.”

They talk as Swiss makes his way home, and late into the night, way beyond their bedtimes, and fall asleep on the call.

After that phone call, Mountain went to the coffee shop every day before and after work. He’d sit in his usual spot and do some grading, or read a book while waiting for Swiss to get off work.

Mountain’s become a regular, and the employees start to recognize him and his order, as well as some of his students. The coffee shop has become a secondary office where students stop by just to ask him clarifying questions, or sometimes they’ll set up a meeting to discuss larger topics.

He’s met Sunny and Mist during the shift overlap, and they sometimes sit with him to keep him company when work is slow. They all know they’re ghouls living amongst humans.

Sunny loves to discuss books. Keeps him updated on the latest book releases and also customer drama. Mountain is a big time consumer of customer drama. In return, he gossips about his students.

They’ve also discussed hosting some sort of reading or book program in collaboration with the bookshop. Talks about hosting Q&A’s with a variety of subjects have come up.

On a quiet Friday night, when Swiss’ shift ends, Mountain walks him to his apartment as per the routine now. Once at the entrance, Swiss turns to him and meets his eyes.

“I want to ask you something,” Swiss starts. Mountain waits for him to continue

“Would you, maybe, want to go out with me?”

Mount eagerly smiles and nods, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask, and if you didn’t do it this weekend, I was going to ask. Yes, Swiss, I’d love to go out with you.”

“Would you wanna come in? Stay the night perhaps? We can watch a movie, and have some frozen pizza? Neither of us have work tomorrow, and we can sleep in?”

“I-” Mountain starts, but is met with Swiss’ puppy eyes, “I can stay, yes.”

Swiss sighs in relief, grabbing hold of Mountain's hand, guiding him inside the building while rambling on about tonight's plans. Mountain laughs, squeezing Swiss hand a little tighter, sending a little thank you to whatever god made this happen.

Part 2: The Date... coming soon.

#swissalps #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #coffee shop au #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ghost band #nameless ghouls #mist ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #revenge works

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dolls-self-ships · 1 month

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How I think the HH crew takes their coffee

Lucifer orders the most complicated, sugary, step specific drink you could imagine. He is hated by baristas everywhere. Also gets so excited when ordering he changes it at least 3 times halfway through explaining it. Probably gets something different everytime too. He is a regular with no usual. Charlie canonically likes frappaccinos! Like her dad, I can see her having similar tastes, sugar, but also wanting to keep it simple so that she doesn't overwhelm the employees (she's too considerate for her own good). Orders straight from the menu exactly how it is with no alterations, is also the one who probably walks in with a list of orders for her friends, goes as slow as possible for the cashiers sake. Angeldust rolls up to the drivethrough hung over and orders something iced- probably a caramel drink and he asks for it to specifically be drowned in caramel, and an extra shot. Either that or a vanilla iced latte. Vaggie is not a huge fan of coffee, she gets a tea or tea latte instead. Earl grey is her favourite and she likes a lot of milk. Alastor loves a nice extra hot black coffee. He wants that bitch scolding and bitter. Doesn't even drink it, just splashes it in his face. Where that would normally give someone 3rd degree burns, it gives him some 'extra pep' in the morning, as he puts it (god he's a fucking freak) Husk takes his coffee black also, but instead will spike it with his own bourbon he keeps in a flask. Will sometimes get cream and sugar if he's feeling, as he puts it , 'fancy' (bro is so low maintenance) Nifty isn't allowed to have caffeine for obvious reasons Sir Pentious is another non-coffee drinker but drinks exclusively tea. Is a bit of a snob about it too. Needs the leaves to be fresh or he WILL be able to taste the burntness. His favourite is peppermint. Would rather die than bother the barista to remake it though so he normally brews his own with his own needlessly complicated tea making invention of course. Cherri bomb loooooves caffine, but isn't much of a coffee drinker. More of a monster energy and redbull kinda gal. She needs something she can drink fast and hard. Don't even get me started on those 5 hour energy drinks. Oh boy. Don't let her near them (she will kill u for one) Vox is an avid coffee drinker. Practically lives off of it and can't get through the day without (it's a problem). Definately has one of those 'don't talk to me before I've had my coffee' mugs bc he's an asshole. Drinks like 5-6 cups in a single day. Send help. Velvette gets a coffee once in the morning and then one in the afternoon. Pulls up to the cash register with her sunglasses on and outfit for the day put together, intimidating buisness lady vibes off the charts while she orders between phone calls. Also definately shushes the barista of they try to ask her any questions, can't you see she's on the phone? Her order is LONG and COMPLICATED and she needs it made the way she likes to a T, she also talks fast and no she will NOT repeat herself so you better be a fast writer. Probably gets something vanilla flavoured with 3 shots of espresso in it. Valentino isn't a coffee guy but if he needs it for a long shoot or late night he gets either an Americano or pure espresso shots. No time to waste with the frills and fancy stuff despite the look of him. Also will throw the cup at the barista if the shots come out burnt or expired.

#brought to you by an actual barista. me!#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel niffty

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taeraemisu · 8 months

Text

pretty mess ; jay enhypen

synopsis ; getting into embarrassing situations in front of a cute stranger wasn’t exactly how jay was planning to spend his day

genre ; strangers to lovers, fluff, barista!jay, a sprinkle of a cafe au

pairings ; jay x reader, mentions of jake

word count ; 1.2k words

jay cautiously turned on the espresso machine. it had been acting up all morning and he finally got to fix it, he managed to stop the liquid from spilling all over but was it really working?

ding!

jay heard bell ring, the door opening, but he was too focused on the machine to even glance at the customer who just walked in. this machine better work.

he pressed the button, placing the cup below the dispenser in hopes that it will actually pour coffee out and not spray everywhere. just this once-

coffee sprayed everywhere, droplets splashing onto his face and all over his apron. jay yelped, before hurrying to turn the machine off, covering any leakage with his hands.

he sighed, feeling hopeless before turning around to face the cafe. his eyes lay on you, who was just watching the whole ordeal. his ears turned red, suddenly embarrassed you witnessed it all.

“i’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, walking over to the register. he wiped the coffee off his face, before clearing his throat to greet you. what a first impression.

“welcome to polaroid love! can i get you anything?”

you hummed, looking at the menu. you were planning on getting an espresso, but you clearly weren’t going to get it. “can i have a vanilla latte? to go?”

jay nodded, inputting your order. “so sorry about earlier, today isn’t my day-“ he apologised again.

you shake your hands, dismissing his words. “no, it’s really fine!” you smiled softly. “i understand. you might need to get that machine fix though.”

jay gave you a tight-lipped smile. “i have been fixing it all morning. i don’t get why it isn’t working today …” his voice trails off before heading off to work on your drink.

you wait patiently at the side, looking at the barista make your drink. jay pours some coffee into the plastic cup. he grabs the milk carton, about it pour it when-

milk came pouring out, making jay curse under his breath. what is wrong with today?

he inspected the carton. someone didn’t screw the cap on properly after use. “i bet it’s jake,” jay grumbled, his ears turning even redder when he turned to look at you. you witnessed him messing up two times in a row.

“i’m so sorry!” jay apologised again while he went off to find any napkins to clean up the mess. milk spilt everywhere, from all over the counter to the floor. this really wasn’t his day.

“it’s really fine!” you say, feeling bad for the cute barista. “i can wait, i’m in no rush.” you rummaged through your bag and took out a handkerchief you keep on you, handing it to him. “use this.”

embarrassed still, jay took your handkerchief and wiped the mess. “i’m so sorry about all this,” he said as he cleaned up. “i will wash this and find you to return it to you somehow.”

once he cleaned up, he went back to working on your drink. he made it from scratch, still embarrassed about the whole mess. you were fine with it, you knew everyone had those sort of days. the barista in front of you just happened to be more unlucky.

jay finally finished your drink, handing it to you. “again, i’m so sorry-“ he tried to apologise but you shook your head. “it’s really fine!” you grinned at him. “i will come by another day and get that handkerchief back.”

jay sheepishly smiles, waving you off while you leave the cafe. he went back to doing his cafe duties when a thought came to him. he looked over at the door, eyes widened. wait, you will come back?

jay was on the bus, heading home after a shift at his cafe. thankfully, no other misshapes happened in front of other customers. his ears were still red, remembering how you witnessed him messing up two times in a row.

jay groaned, leaning back on his seat. since the cafe wasn’t that busy that day, he got time to wash your handkerchief nice and clean. he remembers you saying you were going to come back, and jay couldn’t help wishing it was soon.

he snapped back into reality, hearing the bus stop. he glanced out the window and someone catches his eye. it was you, sitting down peacefully at the bus stop, the drink you ordered from earlier still on your hand.

jay’s eyes widen. he was literally just thinking about you, and there you were? right in front of him?

he jumped out of his seat, scurrying to get off the bus quickly. he managed to get off in time, the bus driver momentarily pissed he didn’t get off earlier. but jay was way too quick that he-

thud.

he fell face first onto the ground.

jay knew you were sitting in front of him, and he never wanted to dig a hole and disappear off the face of the earth more than that moment. he embarrassed himself, again.

jay quickly got up, wiping the dust and dirt off him. most people at the bus stop saw him, but they pretended to look away. as soon as he stood up, he met face to face with you.

you were struggling to hold your laughter in, a part of you feeling bad for him. you recognised him almost immediately. with that face for a barista, it was hard to even forget. especially the interesting events that occurred earlier.

jay cleared his throat, ears turning redder than he thought was possible. “so …” his voice trailed off. “we meet again?”

you smiled, getting up from your seat to face him. “indeed, i didn’t think i would see you again so soon.”

jay chuckled, pointing at the empty cup in your hand. “you must have really liked it.”

you nod, holding the empty cup up. “definitely, the whole mess earlier made it even tastier.”

jay groaned while you giggle a little. “i’m joking, seriously i will forget about it if you want me to.”

he hides his face in his hands. “this isn’t me i swear! i’m not a mess all the time it’s just-“

“you are a pretty mess then.”

jay looked at you with widen eyes, this time, your ears are turning red. those words came out of your mouth without warning and it was your turn to hide in your hands. “no, i didn’t mean to say that-“

jay chuckled, finding you really adorable at that moment. “it’s really fine!” he made an impression of your words earlier, laughing. you rolled your eyes, looking at him. oh how the turned tables.

“wait, my handkerchief?” you questioned. “i did say i will come back for it …”

“and i said i will find you to return it,” he said as he rummaged through his bag, taking out the now-cleaned handkerchief. he was about to hand it to you when he pulled his hand back, wagging his finger at you. “do something for me first.”

you raised an eyebrow. seriously?

“you can get this back if you … go on a date with me.”

you rolled your eyes. “is this blackmail?” you joked while he shrugs at you. “it is if you look at it that way.”

you giggled, snatching your handkerchief off his hands.

“you don’t have to do that, i would gladly go on a date with you if you just ask.”

perm taglist ! (send an ask) ; @wtfhyuck

#taeraemisu #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen jay #jay park #jay park imagines #jay park x reader #jay imagines #jay x reader #park jongseong #park jongsung #park jongseong imagines #park jongseong x reader #park jeongseong #enha jongseong #enha jay

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

Text

Younger Gods: III

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader

Chapter 2

Dangerous magic and old friends lay the foundation of a fate foretold, and Morpheus spends too much time in the library.

Warnings: language, briefly referenced suicidal ideation, self-neglect/harm, extreme sleep deprivation, Dream is still his own damn warning

A/N: First - THANK YOU ALL. Seriously. You're amazing, I love you, and I'm working on catching up on comments. Now for the bad news. Ya'll broke chapter 2. Like, literally. I went to edit the tags list and Tumblr said nope. Imagine a small, family car with dozens of people stacked inside and hanging off the roof. It just won't go. The chapter also didn't show up in the story tags, at least whenever I checked. So...

*The taglist is officially discontinued*

I am making that up with something special, though, so make sure to read the A/N at the end!

Chapter 3: Darker Fates

“Gracious, darling, you look dreadful.”

She collapsed into the rickety café chair. Across the laminate table sat her oldest friend. Her one friend. And she immediately wondered how much to tell him. Only two days stood between her and her involuntary trip down memory lane, between her and the Sandman. She’d seen dark birds from the corner of her eye once or twice, but they always turned out to be crows and magpies. That didn’t mean Matthew wasn’t following her, of course.

She hadn’t escaped the consequences of her actions yet, and she didn’t want to drag one of the precious few people she cared about into the muck.

“What happened to your courtly manners?”

“What happened to your face?” He shuddered delicately, burying the real concern she caught in his sharp grey eyes with dramatics. Signaling the waitress behind the counter, he added, “We’ll need another pot of tea, please.”

The woman blushed and hurried off to fill the order. Doubtless, he’d been flirting while he waited. Damn silver fox. Although he was over one thousand years old, he wore it well. His greying curls and tidy beard looked playful rather than unkempt.

“Do you have what I need?”

He nodded. “Tea’s on it’s way.”

“Not the damn tea, Taliesin.”

The twice-born bard sucked on his teeth, glancing from the front windows to the back counter. Only spilled coffee stains and a sticky smear of jam occupied the other tables. He acted like this kind of deal might draw attention, and he had good reason to think twice about handling magical items in public, but no one cared what two people meeting up at two in the afternoon in a cheap café shared over a cup of tea.

He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and retrieved a small, stoppered bottle. The liquid inside moved like tar, oozing up the side of the glass as Taliesin angled it in the light. Even caution couldn’t banish his instincts as a showman.

“Understand.” He looked her in the eye, his scintillating smile packed away for a stone glower. “This is a cruelty, not a blessing. Now, I won’t ask why you need it. I wouldn’t insult you like that. But it’s my responsibility to tell you this is a bad idea.”

She could think of worse.

Before she could explain herself, the waitress pranced over with the tea. She set the pot between them and provided a fresh cup and saucer. Taliesin grinned, winked, and sent her on her way again with a word of thanks.

“One day your philandering will get you into trouble, old man.”

He sniffed and poured the tea, adding the slightest splash of milk, just the way she liked it. “I never begin something from which I cannot safely extricate myself. And, besides, a little teasing will make her day.”

He slid the cup across the table, and she wrapped her hands around the porcelain to drink in the heat through her chilly palms. She couldn’t seem to stay warm these past few weeks. Anyway, tea wasn’t what she’d come to drink.

“Will it keep me awake forever?”

“Nothing is forever. Nothing you can taste, touch, or smell.” He sounded both chiding and nostalgic. “But this will last seven years and seven days.”

“Good enough. What do you want in exchange?”

Tutting, he tucked the potion back in his jacket, and she sagged in her seat. “Tea first. I have grand and patronizing cautions to give.”

She lifted the cup, maintaining eye contact as she took the biggest, loudest slurp she could manage. It tasted nice, and its warmth felt even better in her stomach and throat than it had on her skin. Why did the bastard have to be right about everything?

The twinkle in his eye suggested he knew what station the train of her thoughts had left, and he slurped from his own cup in merry retaliation.

“First,” he licked a drip from his mustache, “and foremost: this is vile magic. It doesn’t gift wakefulness – it steals rest. The fae designed it with little prisoners like you in mind, to be taken in spaces where time melts and enchanted food will cheat the body’s need for sleep. Since – I dare presume – you do not have those safeguards, this could kill you.”

He left the words to sink in, trying to scare her off the purchase. When she reached out to see if he knew someone willing to make this potion, he’d leapt at the opportunity himself. It was his way of protecting her, and it gave him a chance to interfere with what he clearly saw as self-harm.

Since she wasn’t sure she could survive another nightmare like the one Dream hauled her through, she’d take her chances with death by her own hand.

“Consider me warned, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Taliesin bowed his head over his teacup, groaning. Any fantasies that he could talk her off her current path finally cracked. “You really are stubborn, rain cloud.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Oh, no. That you found all your own.” His smile grew back, wan but alive. His hand settled on the table, palm up, and she abandoned her tea to settle her hand over his.

“Just promise,” he said with a gentle squeeze, “that if you feel anything going off, if you even suspect something’s wrong, you’ll call your old friend Taliesin. Okay?”

She squeezed back, trying to smile for him, but she was too tired to make the expression stick. “Okay.”

Nodding to himself, he echoed the agreement again, “Okay,” and reached into his pocket. He slipped the bottle between their joined hands, and she pulled away to put it in her sweater.

“What do you want in return?”

“Well!” He smacked the table with both hands, grinning in a way that promised trouble. “I thought long and hard about it, but rather than jewels, or secrets, or power, I think what I would most like from a lovely young storm god is…” He paused, glancing meaningfully out the window at the dreary, grey-yellow afternoon. “A walk in the rain with my favorite little cloud.”

He sounded so damn happy about it he infected her with the feeling. It was nice to be needed. Wanted. Even if she’d just lied to his face.

A friendly rain gathered and fell as Taliesin got up to pay the bill. He left the waitress looking pleased with herself – and probably a generous tip. Then he came to meet his rain cloud at the door. An umbrella appeared from some hidden pocket and he grinned, holding out his elbow for her to link arms with him.

“I always come prepared,” he bragged as they stepped out into the shower.

“You say that like you don’t live in Wales.”

“I never said you were the only thing I came prepared for.”

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

Given the mother’s name to track, Lucienne did eventually find the record of the little storm god’s dreams, but they were useless to Morpheus. He studied the handful of pages warped by the curse she wore around her neck with mounting frustration. Apart from reports of which nightmares feasted on her pain during her brief, forced rests, they gave him nothing.

Her mother’s dreams proved more illuminating. They, at least, gave him a line of inquiry to follow.

The woman dreamed about her child from the moment it was born, from the minute the father tore her away to trade. The mother wandered endless rooms, following a crying child’s voice while she slept. She dreamed of little coffins and wailing infants she couldn’t find in nurseries dripping with gore.

Arcane shapes and dead languages shadowed her sleeping hours as she learned magic. In the waking world, she became a capable witch. There, as in the Dreaming, every hope and wish bent to finding her baby.

She never gave up her pursuit.

But in the end, it was the daughter who found the mother.

Her favorite dream grew out of a memory. A rainy afternoon, a crack of lightning, and a knock on the door. A painfully thin teenager stood on the steps, dripping in a thunderstorm, looking up with wondering eyes. If Morpheus had any doubts as to the girl’s identity, the scars around her neck put them to rest. She still had blood in her hair, rusty smudges caught in the grooves of old scars, fresh hurts and healed wounds calling to the mother’s instinct to protect and care for.

Although she had plenty of nightmares about losing her daughter again – finding her bed empty, losing her in a crowd – the nature of her somnolescent musings shifted. Softened.

And a familiar face came to call. The Welsh bard, Taliesin, whom the demi-god child kept safe at the cost of her hands, brought little gifts to the old woman and her young daughter. His winks brought warm flushes to the mother’s dreams, and she rested easier at night knowing that her little girl would not be entirely alone in the end.

She had sacrificed ten years of her life to a fairy bargain that won her nothing but a hand-sized portrait of her baby girl during her long search. By the time the child returned, her mother had grown old. They only had twelve years together before the lost child lost her mother.

The woman died. The record ended. But Dream knew where to look next.

Abandoning his throne for the library, he wrestled against a growing sense that he was running out of time. Time for what? Time for whom?

He was still Dream of the Endless. He still had a realm and billions of dreamers to manage. The puzzle of the storm god who brought home his raven lingered like a toothache, but he could not abandon his responsibilities. Determined as he may be to remove the golden collar from both the Dreaming and the dreamer, the curse had lingered for decades without disturbing anything significant.

It had been months since he picked through her dreaming mind to discover more about her – more about the curse. Only now, as the things settled back into a comfortable kind of order, could he indulge his curiosity, his side-quest as Death mockingly called his interests. And he was more than interested. The longer the questions lingered, the more of his attention they consumed.

Perhaps it was the crossroads. The Fates said he’d already pushed the storm god towards a darker fate, but they never said it was too late to change that course, and the three often left the most important truths unsaid.

If only he knew what to look for. Perhaps that was why he spent so much time and energy researching the collar. It gave him a target. Without it, he felt like a dreamer caught in a pitch-black nightmare, groping blindly for anything with which to reclaim the light.

But he did not have to search alone.

“Lucienne.”

His librarian looked up from a stack of new, peering over the rim of her spectacles. “Did the mother’s dreams help you find what you needed, my lord?”

“In part. Though I need another volume.” He handed over the two records, the mother’s dreams and the storm god’s. Lucienne set down her tower of work and went to shelve the two immediately. They slotted beside each other, the mother’s name in curling script, the daughter’s blank.

“You know,” Lucienne said, “I only found the nameless one’s record because the mother’s kept reshelving itself with the daughter’s book. I fixed it twice before I realized. It’s rather sweet.” She sighed. “If vexing. What volume do you require, my lord?”

Morpheus spared the books another glance, wondering how much of the mother’s arcane studies had influenced her history of dreams. But she’d given him all she could, and now he must turn to the living for answers. “The bard Taliesin’s records, and anything else we have on his history.”

“That is more a section than a collection, lord.”

“Yes.” It wasn’t his first time encountering the bard. “I may need to speak with him, but he will be loathe to leave a story once he is introduced. I’d prefer to find answers in the records. Will you help me?”

“Of course. Give me a moment.” Lucienne paused. “Give me several moments, please, my lord.”

On Lucienne’s first trip, she retrieved the official record of Taliesin’s dreams. He’d lived a long life, and he dreamed vibrantly. The tome was several feet thick, and the library echoed when the librarian set it on the table.

“Thank you, Lucienne.”

“I’ll fetch the rest, sir.”

Taliesin’s early works, recorded on parchment and scrolls, sat between books published under a dozen nom de plumes in later centuries. When the librarian returned with a cart stacked high with history books referencing and theorizing over the man and his myth, Morpheus excused her.

“These should suffice, Lucienne. I will let you know if I do not find my answers here.”

“Of course, sir.” She brushed dust from her immaculate coat, checking the sleeves, before folding her hands neatly behind her back. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Already buried in the works of Taliesin’s unconscious mind, he shook his head. “Not at this time.”

She bowed and left. The library would be chaos without her. He could remember when it was. It was no mean feat, organizing a universe of stories. It made her wise in ways he had only just begun to appreciate.

The man whose dreams he searched enjoyed other kinds of wisdom. He’d gained a third of the world’s knowledge by accident, but he’d spent the better part of his life learning the other two thirds by choice. Advisor to kings, story-weaver, and a natural mage, he had the wisdom and craft to recognize some of the magic wrought into the storm god’s collar. He’d tried to take it off when they first met, and he studied for a means to free her after his escape.

Morpheus wanted to know what the bard found.

However, though his dreams in the past few decades often welcomed a shade of the storm god to play out adventures and tragedies as part of a colorful cast, Taliesin’s attention did not linger on the curse. It was little more than a bright shadow that pricked his conscience.

He sat back in the chair, glowering at the books that had failed him.

It seemed every whisper of progress led to more questions in this riddle, and not for the first time, he wished the library could offer more insight to the happenings of the waking world. He should not need to ask for help so often.

At least, unlike the storm god, the bard embraced his dreams. Like all great storytellers, he had explored his fantasies and fears ravenously. When he next slept, Morpheus would pry loose some answers. It shouldn’t be difficult. The bard dearly loved the sound of his own voice.

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

Taliesin presided over a court of housecats.

He was aware enough to know the royal courtiers of Edward II did not, originally, have literal claws, but it made perfect sense in the moment. Edward and Gaveston were in the corner, playfully wrestling – maybe – while Isabella stalked closer with murder in her vertical pupils.

“This is not the way,” he huffed, plucking a kitten from the mob joining ranks behind Isabella, a gorgeous tortoise-shell with no interest in his opinion. The kitten sprang spread-eagle back to the floor.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

His favorite idiot, his little rain cloud, curled under the steps to the dais. She’d found herself, once again, where she did not belong, and if her eyes didn’t reflect the torches set around the room, he never would’ve known she was there. It was the wrong court altogether, but she had a talent for trouble and a gift for surprises.

Dropping to his knees, he reached under the wooden platform to coax her out. She’d become a fetching little half munchkin, half Norwegian forest cat caught in the lanky middle ground between kitten and grown cat. A menace, to be sure, but too cute to ignore.

“Come out and play with your friends,” he said as she wriggled even farther out of reach. “It isn’t good to hide all the time. You need to do some seeking, too, lovee.”

But she was very determined and his arms just weren’t long enough, so he manifested a trail of nibbles to catch her attention. He could be patient. He could be tricksy. Good friends, he firmly believed, should be both, because sometimes people were just too stupid or too stubborn to accept the help they obviously needed.

He sat up to kneel below the empty thrones and clapped his hands on his thighs.

Well. He’d done what he could for now. Across the room, poor Gaveston was learning the price of being a king’s favorite. The yowls and cries almost distracted him to the point he didn’t see the massive black Maine Coon stalk into the throne room. The cat’s eyes glowed, both literally and metaphorically. In his kneeling position, Taliesin actually had to look up to see those eyes, and he gulped, wondering if he was about to be eaten.

“I have questions for you, bard.” The cat spoke with authority in a voice like honeyed night.

Taliesin recognized it, though it hadn’t come from a cat before, and he dismissed all thought of stupid whot, why, what, how demands.

It may be his imagination at work, but it was not his realm.

“Dream King.” He bowed. Then he remembered he was dreaming and squinted at the cacophonous mess of the long-dead king’s feline transformation. “Ah. This makes so much more sense.”

The cats blinked out of existence, or at least out of his dream, and he sat back on his heels. The stone chamber grew quiet. A plaintive meow from beside the stops, however, proved not all the cats had gone. The junior cat approached and let him sweep her into his arms, even purring when he scratched under her chin.

Still aware of the Endless – no longer in cat-form – Taliesin allowed himself a moment to enjoy this imagined pleasure. The little storm god made an adorable ball of fur. “You’d never make this so easy in the waking world, would you?”

She sized his finger with claws and teeth to prove she wasn’t easy in any world.

“There is unwelcome magic in the Dreaming.” The Nightmare King didn’t wait for Taliesin’s focus, confident as any monarch that his words would be heard, that the listener would take note and action. “You have studied it.”

Taliesin nodded, taking his word for it and stroking his friend the kitten as he picked through his long memory for anything of interest to the King of Dreams. “I have studied many shapes of magic, lord.”

“This one is close to you.”

Some darker note in the Dream King’s voice snagged Taliesin’s ear, and he looked away from the cat to study his face. Lips bent in a frown, brows pinched, the king had his starry eyes pinned to the creature in the bard’s arms. Taliesin looked back down to see a phantom of the collar growing around the kitten’s neck. She writhed against it, mewling in pain, staring up at him like he could do anything to help her.

He’d tried, and he’d tried again. He still hadn’t given up entirely.

Couldn’t the poor thing’s shade at least find relief in his dream?

She scratched him in her fit, and he bundled her closer, pinning her fast and safe as he’d failed to do when she was small and alone and willing to suffer in his stead. Even if he couldn’t free her, he’d never abandon her.

The truth of the matter struck him. He felt the cat shudder against his heart when she’d been so calm and accepting a moment ago, and he knew.

“So, you’ve met my favorite idiot.”

“Yes.”

The word betrayed nothing, not how they met, not how he felt. But he wanted to banish the collar once and for all, and Taliesin could get on board with that.

“It’s fairy-make,” he said. “Broken in the waking world, but still manifests in the Dreaming.”

“I know. What I do not know is why. What terms closed the circle around her neck? It appeared to suppress her godly half in life.”

Taliesin tried to cradle the cat even closer without suffocating her. “If you do not mind my asking, lord, how do you know even that much?”

“I saw it,” the king said, casually, like it wasn’t one of the worst things the bard had ever heard, “in her dreams, in her recollection of the past.”

Closing his eyes, the bard took a deep, deep breath in through his nose. He had to hold it for a minute, because it desperately wanted to leave his throat with a string of curses Dream of the Endless would not enjoy. When he was sure he could exhale without heaping abuse on the dolt’s head, he let the breath go. He did it all one more time, and then he said, “I think I understand why she wanted to stay awake.”

Eyes still shut, he murmured to himself, “Why didn’t she tell me? Self-destructive little –”

When he finally looked, the world had changed. Gone was the castle, the throne, and the sweet little cat from his arms. He’d imagined a cheap bedsit in Cardiff, the kind of place the little storm god may stay on the run – and she was definitely on the run, from nightmares if nothing else.

The young woman lay sprawled in a puddle of moonlight, half dead, and fading fast. Her skin clung to her bones, eyes sunken, old wounds open and bleeding from malnutrition and scurvy.

The empty potion bottle sat on the windowsill.

Dream of the Endless studied the scene with clear interest, and Taliesin beat down his protective urges in the name of pragmatism. If she was running from Lord Morpheus, she wouldn’t turn to Taliesin for help when the potion dragged her to the brink of death. It wouldn’t be a life lesson she could grow through. It would be a life ended.

“She came to me a few months ago,” he said, hoping the Endless would care enough about the woman shackled to the curse to consider her in his grand schemes. “She wanted a potion to stave off sleep. I told her it was dangerous, and I thought she’d come to me for help soon, that I could teach her something, but –”

The body on the floor laid so still. How many months had it been? How close was this nightmare to reality?

“I said her dreams would be kinder when she next slept,” the king murmured.

He didn’t have to say he didn’t understand.

Taliesin crossed his arms and cleared his throat. Someone, at least, would learn something this night. “Well, she’s a storm, isn’t she? She isn’t capable of moderation. When she’s happy, she’s ecstatic. When she’s angry she’s electric. When she’s afraid she is very, very afraid. And she’s terrified of you.”

Dream looked over his shoulder at the bard, still looming beside the dying phantom.

“I neither wish nor intend her harm.”

“You don’t have to intend harm to hurt her.”

The Endless fully turned to him, and the bard spoke with all the confidence of being truly heard. Just as the king did upon entering this dream. “You, I presume, dug very deep in a very dark place. That hurt her. Frightened her. If you push her far enough she’ll chew off her own leg to get away, or didn’t you see the part where she nearly decapitated herself to escape the damn collar?”

Silence filled the room. An ugly, cheap place to die. Taliesin wondered how long it would take to find her if she really had gone to ground. He couldn’t trust the King of Dreams to care about anything beyond the Dreaming’s borders, and he wouldn’t trust her health with the one who pushed her to ruin in.

He had spells to find her, but he wasn’t sure he could hold her if she went into a panic.

In the stillness, they could hear her death rattle.

“What will your potion do to her?”

His potion. Yes, he supposed it was his fault. The girl really was like a stray cat, hiding under porches to die quietly rather than let someone help. He should’ve known.

“It keeps her awake. Eventually, she’ll feel too ill to eat. She may hallucinate. Her heart will fall out of rhythm and she’ll waste away until her body doesn’t remember how to function.” He smacked his head back into the wall, wanting punishment, hoping to jog some inspired idea free. “I warned her.”

Of all the Endless, and he’d met quite a few, Dream was the most inscrutable. Cold and detached, but prone to dangerous spikes of interest that spiraled into nearly obsessive passion. His vengeance came swiftly and his affection grew slow. But Dream was, usually, just. He didn’t enjoy undeserved suffering, and Taliesin had to hope that after walking through the little storm god’s dreams, he’d understand she’d earned none of her pain.

It wasn’t too late. He’d lost track of time, but a tableau this desperate wouldn’t come to pass for at least a year.

“If you are of a mind to assist, Dream Lord…” He pushed off the wall, suddenly and entirely desperate to move. “I have an idea.”

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

Her fear grew bitter as her strength waned. She could taste it when she struggled to eat, and when she gave up meals, it poisoned the water she drank. Terror tasted like blood from bitten lips and dust on her dry tongue. Her hands shook, and her throat burned from stomach acid, but it wasn’t bad enough to call on Taliesin again. She knew what he’d say.

Whatever happened, she would not fall asleep.

Besides, she wasn’t dying yet. She was only sick. If the Dream Lord pulled through her bloody history again, she wouldn’t survive. If she had a choice, she’d pick a death in the waking world, free of the collar and safe from the Dream Lord who dragged her through horrors so callously.

She wasn’t convinced he believed in her innocence, either. If he knew he’d threatened someone trying to rescue his damn raven, surely he would’ve apologized.

Better to stay awake and ignore the cramps in her belly.

The rain soothed her. Fitful storms plagued the town she’d chosen as a hiding place, and the old folks grumbled to each other at the grocery store about the weather. Maybe they’d gotten used to it in the past few months. She hadn’t been out in a while.

She didn’t sleep, but she still rested. Her eyelids didn’t grow heavy when she sat by the window and watched the drops racing down the pane. She remained awake, aware, and as close to peace as her racing thoughts allowed.

The window became her favorite pastime, and she spent days studying the changing clouds as angry squalls rolled up the coast, how the grey sky trapped the light during gentler showers.

And she grew weaker. Quietly flirting with the line between sick and deathly ill.

She saw impossible things beyond the glass. It took her a few days to realize they were hallucinations, not a fae spell or some petty apocalypse.

When his reflection appeared behind her in the window, she thought she was seeing things again. And then he spoke.

“You are killing yourself.”

She jerked around, stumbling on numb feet to face the monster. The Nightmare King. Her hand wandered her neck, looking for the collar to prove this was a dream, but she found her scarf instead.

“You are in the waking world,” he confirmed. “You hid yourself well.”

He took a step towards her, and she lunged back. The same game in the wrong realm.

“You still think I’m some kind of threat?”

Another step towards her, another step back – she nearly tripped on the leg of a chair, but she refused to look away for an instant, even to save the scraps of her dignity.

“No.”

He moved the way he spoke, aware of every nuance, every shift, slowly drawing closer. Sure and smooth as a stormfront.

What did he want? She abandoned her home, gave up the precious little sleep she could tolerate, and he still pressed her. He didn’t look angry and cold, like he did on the beach. Something sharp glittered in his eyes, though, a keen edge ready to cut her.

They passed through the living room, through the kitchen, and she only had a few more steps before this slow chase met an abrupt end.

“I’m running out of ground to give, Dream Lord.”

“Good.”

A final step, and her heel met the wall. He closed the distance, keeping the same predator’s pace as she pressed herself flat against the peeling wallpaper.

“Do you want me to fight?” Her growing storm raged. Lightning sheered over the sleepy town, turning the evening bright as noon. Thunder rattled the windows, but the Dream Lord didn’t so much as flinch. “Do you want an excuse to hurt me?”

He stood inches away, eating up her personal space until she felt his shadow had already swallowed her.

“No.”

“Then what do you want?” A whisper with the desperation of a scream.

His razor eyes cut deep, and she quaked in place, afraid to move but wishing she could shrink, become so small he wouldn’t notice her.

“To turn you from a darker fate.”

He raised a hand, and she cowered from the expected blow. When none fell, she peeped at him sidelong. His palm hovered between them, like he was holding up a gift.

“Sleep.”

Stooping ever so slightly, he blew over his hand, sending a gust of sand into her face. She bucked against him, flinging one arm up to cover her face, the other to shove at his chest. But it was no good. By the time he curled his fingers back, she could feel her grip on the world slipping away.

“Poor little storm god.”

Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, losing herself by inches to the inescapable lure of the Dreaming and its master.

She slept.

Chapter 4 A/N: I've never done prompt requests, but I've never had 500 FOLLOWERS EITHER (holy shit). I'm celebrating, and you're invited. The rules are a little convoluted, I won't be able to do ALL the things, but you'll all get a say in what makes the cut by voting. To join the fun and check out the rules, go here. Even if you don't join in, there will be one-shots aplenty for you to browse.

I'll be working on a chapter each for my other two active fics while I wait for replies, so you may not see another Younger Gods chapter til next week. For those clamoring for more interaction between the reader and Morpheus, it will be well worth the wait.

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus fanfiction #YoungerGods

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elli3luvs · 1 year

Text

falling in love at a coffee shop [ELLIE W]

summary: the barista at the coffee shop has you in a grip. even though you hate coffee.

genre: fluff

w.c: 1.3k

a/n: this is my first time writing in a looonnngg time so sorry if its not that good! lmk if you want a part two <333

Coffee was disgusting. The bitter-tasting bean couldn't be covered up with even copious amounts of milk and sugar. You hated the way it hit your tongue, spreading over every single taste bud and lingering there. Your face pinched with every single splash of liquid. Dina rolled her eyes every time but you couldn't help it.

There were only two things that made you come back to the coffee shop day after day. The way it smelled was one of the two reasons. Even as a proclaimed coffee hater, you could admit the smell of the roasting beans was good.

The only other reason was the barista that was behind the counter. From the first day, Dina dragged you to this shop, your eyes were locked on the barista. She was in your opinion the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. The way her hair fell over her face as she ground the coffee beans and steamed the milk was like a piece of art to you.

You wondered if this was a normal thing to do. To put yourself through what you considered mental torture just so you could glance at the barista every couple of minutes.

Dina knocked your leg under the table once again. You grabbed your cup to stop it from spilling, "Dude, you're staring. Again." You finally peel your eyes away from the auburn-haired barista to look at your friend.

"Is it obvious?" You whisper and she rolls her eyes. Her expression is going to get stuck like that one day.

She puts her pen down, stopping her studying to look at you with a pinched expression, "You remind me of a man right now. Staring at the poor girl just trying to do her job," You lean back in your chair, nibbling at your bottom lip, "We have come here for the past four days, in a row might I add, so you can stare at her. I have spent over 30 dollars in four days on coffee! Stop being a pussy and ask her for her number!" She stares at you, waiting for your reply.

You shake your head. What kind of person does she take you for? Surely she knows you well enough to know that asking someone out is one of the things you would rather die than do. Dina groans at your reaction, rubbing her fingers on her temples to soothe the oncoming headache.

"I, like," You start to explain your side to your friend who has her head rolled back with an exasperated expression pulled on her features, "What if she doesn't like girls?"

Dina suddenly cackles loudly at that, "She has a fucking forearm tattoo!" She noisily replied. The coffee shop patrons turn to look at your table. Dina just smiles at them.

You could crawl up and die.

You peer over your shoulder to see the barista looking at you two with an amused expression. When she catches your eyes she chuckles and goes back to steaming the cup of milk in front of her.

Dina doesn't look the slightest bit remorseful. She even looks a bit proud of herself, "Well, at least she knows we are talking about her now."

"I'm literally going to end your life."

---

You should've ended Dina's life when you threatened it a couple days ago. It could've saved you from facing the same coffee shop alone.

About 15 minutes ago you received a text message from your friend, one that you wish you didn't read until it was too late.

FROM. DI <3 bought some coffee to-go but im studying sooooo hard rn… pick it up for me?

TO. DI <3 no

FROM. DI <3 please :( please :( please:(

please :(

Please.

PLEASEEEEE

TO. DI <3 if i go get it will u shut tf up?

FROM. DI <3 THANK U!!! btw it's under ur name so hot barista knows who u are hehe MWAH!!

You stood in front of the pickup area, fidgeting with your bracelet as you waited for the barista to make an appearance. You check your phone again to see it's been around 4 minutes since you arrived. There weren't any drinks on the mat so you could just grab and go, with no interaction at all. Sadly not. You began to wonder if the barista had decided to quit mid-shift as the minutes continuously went by with no view of her.

You turn around to look at the store hours on a sign sitting out front when the wooden floors creak behind you, "Oh?" You hear a voice.

You turn back around. It was her. Your heart felt like it was about to fall out at the sight of her. She had her auburn hair up in a half-bun and her t-shirt had rolled-up sleeves, showing off her sleek muscles. If you didn't know any better you would've thought you were having a heart attack from how your chest feels.

She looked at you with confusion plastered over her features, "Can I help you?" Her voice was the perfect mix of gravelly and deep. It was perfect. She was perfect in your eyes.

"Um," You scratch your arm nervously, "My friend said she put a to-go order in under my name."

Her laugh catches you off-guard. Your eyes shift around the small shop as you wait for her to explain her sudden onslaught of giggles. Tears prick the side of her eyes as she continues to laugh.

"Uh…" She calms down slightly, holding her stomach, "We don't do to-go orders. Your friend definitely lied to you about that but I can just take your order if you want me to?"

You really should kill Dina when the chance arises. Tonight does seem like a perfect night to become a murderer.

You snap out of your thoughts. Deciding to be a normal person, you reply with a smile, "Yeah… that works too," She motions you to come over to the register, "Can I just get a-"

She cuts you off, "Iced latte for you and an Americano for your friend?" She looks at your surprised face with a bashful smile, "I may not take the orders but I do make them and well… you and your friend have ordered the same thing the past four times. Now five."

You let out a small laugh, "We are both creatures of habit."

She nods, "Me as well," She licks her bottom lip, leaning on the counter, "What's the name of the order?"

She smiles as she gets your name, writing it down on the cups, "You have a pretty name. It will only take me a couple minutes to make these so you can sit if you want to."

You nod as she turns her back to you but you can't help but feel ecstatic at her calling your name pretty. Was this flirting? Or was this just normal conversation? God, this sort of stuff flew right over your head. The last time anyone said anything about you was pretty was when you first met Dina around four months ago. She said your hair was pretty as she sat down next to you in class. But this felt different. Maybe it's because of how undeniably you were attracted to this barista. It made your head spin as you went over the interaction a million different times.

Her calling your name out is the only thing that snaps you out of overthinking.

"Here you go," She hands you the drinks with a smile, "Hope they are good."

You take them, "They always are," She rubs the back of her neck at your words, "Thank you! See you later?"

Was that weird to say?

"Yeah, see you later."

Maybe not.

As you make your way out of the shop, you look down at your iced latte to take a sip when you notice black sharpie on the top.

In awful chicken scratch handwriting was the message of your dreams.

Call me? Ellie xx

With her number right beside her name.

Maybe Dina's shenanigans weren't always bad. She gets spared another day.

next part

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #ellie williams scenario #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

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Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Seven)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 4.4k

Warnings / as usual, not much to warn here apart from soft!Joel being incredible soft and sweet, some very brief allusions to smut but nothing explicit as well as mentions of alcohol and food, mentions of loss/death as well.

Authors Note / I won't lie to you but this chapter was a struggle. I have THE PERFECT idea on what I want to happen for the next two/three chapters, so this really is just a filler, working to set up the drama that is about to come your way, so I'm sorry if this is boring after such a long wait for it to arrive with you. It's crunch time for me with university deadlines too, so I'm just trying my best to get through everything - so it might be a bit of a wait between updates for the next month or so. As always, if you liked this, please consider dropping comments, reblogging or popping over to my ask box with some love and as always, thank you for your continued support of my work. Love y'all.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It’s late and Joel is stretched out in his living room, feet up on the coffee table with his guitar on his lap. He chuckles to himself that he’s got his feet on the table when he knows if Ellie tried to do this, he’d be swatting her legs and telling her off, but she’s not here, so he thinks he can get away being rebellious tonight.

He’s thoughtlessly strumming at the strings when he hears a tentative knock at his door. He thinks for a second that he might have misheard, he’s fairly deaf in that ear after all, but a few seconds later there’s a louder knock at the door, so he sets the guitar back on its stand near the wall and heads to open it.

Of all the people he expected to see at his front door at this time of night, it hadn’t been you. He can tell almost immediately that you’ve been crying. Your eyes a bloodshot and he can see redness of tear tracks down your face.

“Is everything alright, sweet pea?” He asks, he can’t help but soften immediately into your company.

“Can I come in?” You murmur.

“Of course you can.” He smiles, that warm smile that he always has on his face when you’re around.

He moves from the door, stepping aside to let you in. When he’s closed the door, he finds you looking around his living room. It’s not quite as bare as it had been weeks ago when they first moved in. Ellie’s been drawing all sorts of pictures that they’ve stuck to the walls, and he’s been trading here and there for things to make it feel more homely, like the lamp on the side table, which is bathing the room in a warm, orange glow.

He comes up behind you and places his hand on the small of your back, just like he had done when you’d gone to the bar together. It startles you a little, and he’s muttering a quick sorry for frightening you, “Why don’t you sit down?” He asks quietly, “I can get you a drink if you’d like?”

You sit yourself on the edge of the sofa whilst he’s looking through his kitchen cabinets, “I can do coffee, whiskey or water?” He calls out from behind a cabinet door.

“Coffee,” You say, but for some reason your voice breaks and it comes out of your mouth in little more than a whisper, you clear your throat and try again, “Sorry, coffee please, if that’s okay.”

“Course it is sweet pea.” He’s speaking over his shoulder as he’s making up a pot.

In no time he’s sat on the opposite end of the sofa, his own mug of coffee in hand. You look down into yours and you can see he’s splashed some milk into it and your heart swells in your chest. You’d never told him you like milk in your coffee, in fact, you’re pretty sure you’ve only drunk it that way in front of him once. Why is this man so observant that he remembers all the tiny details of you? His own mug is what catches your attention next, even in his hands it’s large, white with what looks to be a hand-painted owl on it, with a big ring of reddish-brown paint along the rim.

“You really interested in owls or are you tryin’ to avoid somethin’, sweet pea?”

“Just never pegged you as a patterned mug kinda guy, is all.”

“I’m nothing if not full of surprises,” He chuckles, “Truth be told I’m not really, it was just the biggest mug in the house.”

A comfortable silence sits between the two of you as you sip at your coffee, “I’m sorry, Joel, about the other night.”

“That’s okay, sweet pea, it’s me who should be sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep a mark or anythin’.”

You shake your head, “You didn’t overstep anything Joel,” You sigh, “In that moment I wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to be perfectly honest it’s all I’ve wanted to do since, but I need to be honest with you.”

“Okay, shoot, I’m listening.” He’s turned his body on the sofa a little bit, he’s looking directly at you now.

“You’re a good man Joel, and I don’t say that lightly, and you kiss like your life depends on it, but when I closed my eyes all I could see Mark, and that’s not what you deserve, you deserve a woman who only ever see’s you.”

“But sweet pea,” He sighs, “You’re the only woman I want.”

You sip your coffee, “Can I ask why?” You murmur, “I just don’t know what it is you could possibly want from sad, little old me.”

“I want to make you happy,” He shrugs, looking at you, “There have been these glimpses I’ve had of you, when you smile, or when you talk to Ellie about your life before, or when you reminisce about Mark and you become this beacon of light, you glow sweet pea, and I would do anythin’ in this world to be the person that does that to you every day.”

You can feel a single tear slip from your eye, what on earth had you done in this world to deserve this man at your feet?

“Listen to me,” He’s put his coffee on the table and moved closer to you, his big, warm hand is on your knee, “I’m not going to pretend that I can be him, no-one is ever going to be him for you again, but I want to try and be somethin’ different for you, I’m not going to try and replace him, just add to him,” He pauses before he adds, “If you’ll let me.”

Your hand slips over his own on your knee and you squeeze it, “I want it Joel, Lord knows I want it, but I don’t know how long it’s going to take, before it’s you I see when I close my eyes and not him, will you be patient with me?”

“Of course I will, sweet pea,” He breathes, “I’ll give you all the time in the world,” He’s turned his palm up so you’re holding hands now, “And it’s not a bad thing, y’know?” You make a sound for him to carry on talking, “Still seeing him – sometimes Ellie’ll do somethin’ and it’ll be exactly like Sarah, and I’ll go right back to standing in my house in Austin with her, keeps her memory alive, right?”

“I get you,” You smile at him, “I’m so grateful for you, Joel, I hope you know that.”

You reach out a hand and he reaches his own out to gather your hand in his. He’s scooting along the seats of the couch, coming to rest just far enough away that your legs aren’t touching, but close enough for you to feel the heat emanating from his body, “I know, sweet pea, I’m grateful for you too.”

You turn to properly look at him for the first time that night. In the dim glow of his living room lamp he’s just as devastating as he always is. The dreamy chocolate of his eyes, the slope of his nose, that full bottom lip that you want to kiss. He’s reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, before his impossibly large hand is running through the hair to rest on the back of your head, “Can I maybe try again?” He asks quietly.

You don’t need to ask what he means, not with the way his eyes dart from yours to your lips and then back up again, “I’d really like that.”

He uses the hand resting at the back of your head to pull you gently towards him, you watch closely as his eyes flutter close as his lips press to yours. You’re almost frightened to close your own after what happened before, but his other arm is snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him and you can’t help but follow his movements, letting your own close as you tentatively open your mouth to him.

There is something undeniably different about this kiss compared to the last. This time when you close your eyes, you try and focus on what you can feel. You can feel Joel’s palm resting on the back of your head, fingers twisting into your hair. You can feel your hand, placed on his knee to steady you and the rough denim of his jeans beneath your palm. You can feel his lips pull back from yours just a touch before he puts them back on yours, capturing your bottom lip between his own before he sucks your bottom lip, just a little.

Then you focus on what you can hear. The deep breathing of Joel through his nose as he kisses you, the slight breeze that rustles the trees outside his home. The sound of a whimper from your lips when he pulls all the way back. You open your eyes and he’s still close enough that if you moved forward, you could capture his lips back, but he’s searching your face for signs you’re okay, so you don’t.

“I’m fine,” You reassure him, “You know, you’re really good at that.”

“I am?” He asks, and you can see how he flushes a little, “Gotta admit I’m a little out of practice.”

“You’d never know,” You smile, “I should probably get going.”

“Alright, sweet pea,” He’s pulling away from you and standing, pulling your arm to help you stand, leading you to the door, “You gonna be alright walking back?”

“I’ll be fine,” You speak, suddenly distracted by the sight of the guitar propped up against the wall, “Do you play?”

“I do indeed,” He smiles, “Got lucky findin’ this out on patrol a few weeks back.”

“Will you play for me sometime?” You ask, hope in your voice, “I miss hearing music that isn’t distorted by headphones.”

He steps closer to you, letting a hand run down the length of your hair until he’s cupping your cheek, “Course I will, sweet pea,” He presses another soft, careful kiss to your lips, “Now you get on home, be safe.”

“Goodnight Joel.”

The next morning, you’re sitting with Maria on your front porch, cups of coffee in hand, watching as the rest of Jackson start to come and go. It’s quiet between the two of you, something that you’ve always appreciated about Maria, that she can sit in silence and just let you enjoy the company. You’re almost to the bottom of your coffee cup when Tommy and Joel begin walking down the street, guns strapped to their backs on their way to patrol.

Tommy waves at Maria as they get closer to your porch, walking over to say good morning to you. You think you return his sentiment, but all you can really focus on is Joel, who is standing just behind his shoulder with a childish grin painted across his lips. You can feel your face returning a similar smile his way, looking down into the murky dregs of your coffee to try and stop being so bloody obvious.

“Well, you two have a nice day now.” Tommy’s voice brings you back round.

“Oh, you too Tommy,” You smile, before shooting another smile to Joel, “And you as well Joel.”

“I’ll do my best, sweet pea.”

Once they’ve started back on their walk to the gate, you turn your head to Maria who is staring right at you, with a knowing smirk on her face.

“And you as well Joel,” She teases in an imitation of your voice, “God, you are subtle as a brick sometimes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tommy saw you, leaving his last night.”

“Am I not allowed to go and visit a friend?” You ask, downing the last of your coffee.

Maria gives you a knowing look, “Friends you kiss?”

“That was one time, and it doesn’t even count.” You argue.

“You must think I was born yesterday,” She laughs, “The way you two were smiling at each other just then, something definitely happened!”

You relent, “Fine, I went and spoke to Mark, like you suggested and I guess everything felt a little clearer to me afterwards,” You don’t mention that you’re putting all your trust in a tiny ray of sunshine as permission to kiss Joel Miller, “So I went to speak to Joel, told him it would take time but that I wanted to see what might happen.”

Maria reaches over, grasping your hand in her own, when you look at her, you almost cry, her own eyes brimming with tears, “I’m so proud of you, girl,” She whispers, “Lord knows that man is patient, the way he handles Ellie, but you let me know if I ever have to kick his ass, alright?”

You laugh at that, considering Joel has never once given you the idea that anyone would need to protect you from him, but you agree none-the-less, “You’ll be the first to know.”

Maria takes her leave a few moments later, leaving you to fill your day on your own. You decide to head to the library, picking out some new books and catching up with Kate for a few moments, before you head back home. You use the last of your rations to make a loaf of bread and spend some time weeding the garden and picking some of your sweet peas.

The sun is setting and you’re considering what to pull together for dinner when there’s a knock at your door. It’s Joel, back from patrol, although he’s not stopped to drop his rifle off yet, which is still slung over his shoulder.

“Evening, Joel.”

“Evenin’, sweet pea.” He smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Good patrol?”

“Can’t complain when I go with Tommy,” He responds, “Always brings his hip flask which makes things seem better.”

“Did you need something?”

“Are you busy tomorrow?” He asks, “Only I was thinkin’ there was some place I’d like t’show ya, if not.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Joel Miller?” You smile, arms folding across your chest.

“Might be,” He shrugs, “Depends in you’re gonna say yes or not.”

“Well, lucky for you, I have no plans tomorrow, so you can take me wherever you’d like.”

“Well then, sweet pea,” He smirks, “You’ve got yourself a date, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

You lean up on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away, “Should I bring anything?”

“No, just yourself.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

The sun is already warming the commune when Joel arrives to pick you up. He’s dressed simply – jeans, black t-shirt and his battered walking shoes – but still looks like the most handsome man you’d laid eyes on in years. He’s got his backpack on which looks to be fit to burst and his rifle slug on his shoulder.

“Where the hell are you taking me that requires that?” You ask, motioning to the gun whilst you lock the door.

“I’m taking you out.” Is all he offers, which makes you stand still, anxiety filling your stomach.

“Wait, as in out of Jackson?”

He looks at you and notices the worry on your face, “Sweet pea, I promise I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you,” He takes hold of your hand in his, “It’s an hour walk, Tommy and I scouted it yesterday, so I know it’s clear, and I’ll protect you.”

“I’ve not left since we arrived,” You speak quietly, sweat pricking at your skin in worry, “Are you sure it’s safe?”

He drops your hands, instead bringing those warm palms to cup your face, leaning down to press a barely-there kiss to your lips that has the anxiety butterflies in your tummy turning into the exact opposite, “We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?” You nod, “Anytime you wanna turn back, we will, but I think you’ll like what I’ve got to show you.”

He can obviously see your anxiety, worry etched onto your face like it always is these days. He drops his hands, intertwining your fingers with his own, “First step, we get to the gate, okay?”

“Okay.” You say softly, keeping a firm grip on his hand as he leads you down the street.

It’s early enough that there are few people on the main street down the gate, but those who are up and about don’t miss the fact that you’re hand-in-hand with Joel Miller. He certainly doesn’t seem to mind, keeping his head forward as he walks, but he does continuously squeeze your hand for comfort whenever he catches someone with a particularly intense stare.

Amanda, one of the women who often patrols the walls of the commune, greets you both when you arrive at the gate, “Morning Joel,” Then she turns to you, “So good to see you out and about,” And she’s genuine for it. You didn’t know her, at all really, but her soft face and kindness make you smile, “All looking quiet out there today, you two enjoy yourselves.”

Joel gives your hand another squeeze, “So, what do you say? You wanna go?”

You look up at him, face warm and rugged in the early morning sun. His eyes are looking into yours, filled with hope that you’ll indulge him. You know he’s got you; you know this man right next to you isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you. So, you squeeze his hand and tell him to lead the way.

It’s actually a really pleasant walk. There are plenty of trees that offer shade from the sun that is continuing to heat up the air around you as it rises further. You can’t remember the last time you took a walk just for pleasure. Mark had insisted that once you’d made it to Jackson and its safety, that you stayed put, and you can’t say you’d complained. You’d seen too much shit out in the world to not revel in the relative normality of life in the commune. But this walk reminded you of the days before, when you and your flatmates would drive out of the city and walk for hours with no destination in mind. If it weren’t for Joel’s rifle in your periphery, you could almost convince yourself that nothing bad was lurking just out of sight.

“Not much further now, sweet pea,” Joel muses, stepping up onto some rocks at the top of the hill you’d been steadily climbing for a while, he turns back and offers you his hand, “Careful now.”

He hauls you up onto the rocks, helps you down and then gestures for you to look around. It’s absolutely beautiful. There’s a small lake, shimmering in the sun, with a shore made up of pebbles. The tree line offers you a wealth of shade to sit under, Joel already making his way to one particularly large tree, setting his rifle down before he’s opening his backpack to pull out a blanket.

You can’t help but smile to yourself as he sets it down on the ground before he’s reaching back into his bag. You walk over to meet him just as he pulls out a brown paper bag, filled to the brim with strawberries. Some of them had been squished on the walk, but you could see plenty of the sweet fruit still in one piece. He sets them down on the blanket, pulling out an insulated flask and two tin mugs before he’s turning to you.

“You got anything else in that bag of yours?” You tease, dropping to your knees, “You’re like Mary Poppins.”

He chuckles, “There might be a flask in there with somethin’ stronger than coffee,” He shrugs, “Couldn’t fit much else in.”

You put a hand on his shoulder as he settled his back against the tree, extending and widening his legs, motioning for you to sit between his thighs, which you do, leaning your back against his chest as he leans forward to grab the bag of strawberries, taking one before he offers it to you.

You take it, head falling back to rest in the crook of his neck as you bite into the fruit, “I’ll be sad when these are gone,” You comment, letting the sweet juice pour across your tongue, “Winter is miserable at the best of times, but I miss the fruit more than anything.”

Joel takes a strawberry for himself, you can hear him bite into it and he makes a sucking sound as he tries not to let the juice fall down his face, “They’ll come back though,” He speaks softly, letting one of his arms wrap around your waist to pull you deeper into his chest, “This okay, sweet pea?”

He makes your heart swell. He’d spend his own rations on your favourite fruit, scouted out a place for you to have some peace together, made sure you were comfortable the whole time and is still making sure he doesn’t push you too far. He’s trying to make this as normal as he possibly can. You don’t think you’d ever had this with Mark. Spent most of your time together scraping by in a QZ before trekking across the country trying to keep yourselves alive. Found comfort in each other in the dead of night, had a house and home in Jackson, but nothing that had ever felt this normal. You can feel tears welling in your eyes, you sniff, trying to brush them away.

“Hey, is it too much?” Joel is leaning down to speak quietly into your ear.

“No, not at all,” You choke out, “It’s fucking perfect Joel, I’m just overwhelmed.”

You bring your own arm to rest along his that’s gripping your waist, running your fingers over his skin, his voice is back in your ear, “We can go back if it’s too much, sweet pea.”

“That’s the problem,” You let out a tear-filled chuckle, “I don’t think I want to, I just want to stay here forever now, sitting by the lake with you, eating strawberries.”

His lips surprise you as they place the softest kiss to the skin behind your ear. There’s nothing overtly sexual about it, they don’t linger, he doesn’t jut his tongue out like Mark used to when he was trying to work you up, either alone or in public, but you’ll be damned if it doesn’t send a jolt down your spine, one you hadn’t felt in over a year. You want him. Body betraying mind and memory of your dead husband. You can feel the irrational part of your mind telling you to fuck it all, throw every ounce of caution to the fucking wind, turn around and demand Joel spread you out on this very blanket and take you to heaven and back until you can’t think anymore.

You can feel your heartbeat racing in your chest, can feel yourself struggling to pull in enough air to your lungs. It kills you, but you pull away from Joel’s chest, shuffling forward so you’re far enough away from him that you can turn and face him, sitting up on your knees.

“Don’t do that.” Is all you say.

You look into his eyes and there isn’t a single ounce of hurt there. He doesn’t look disappointed. Perhaps a little worried, but curious more than anything.

“You can’t kiss me there,” You say, bringing your hand up to rest where Joel’s lips were just moments ago, “He would always kiss me there.”

“Alright, sweet pea,” He looks at you with his beautiful brown eyes, holding his hands up, “I didn’t mean t’make you uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, “You didn’t know,” Then you sigh, “Fuck, I didn’t even know, I never fucking know what’s going to set me off.”

Joel can see you’re overwhelmed. Can see the tears streaking down your cheeks, “Gimme your hand,” He asks, offering his own to you palm up, “I ain’t ever gonna get mad at you for somethin’ like this, you hear me?” You nod in agreement, letting your hand slip back into his, “It’s gonna take time, sweet pea, and we’re gonna figure it out together, like I said t’ya before, I don’t wanna replace him, I’m just gonna add t’him, so if there’s anythin’ I do that makes you worried or uncomfortable, you just tell me okay?”

You use the hand he doesn’t currently have clasped in his own to wipe away your tears, what the fuck had you done in this life to deserve Joel Miller? Patient and kind Joel Miller? The side of Joel Miller that no-one else really got to see.

“Now, come and sit back down,” He’s dragging you back to sit where you had been moments ago, back against his chest, “I’ll keep my lips to myself.”

That’s how you stay for the rest of the day, settled against him, eating strawberries and drinking coffee together. At one point he coaxes you to take off your shoes and dip your toes in the water to cool off, never once letting go of your hand. You talk about everything, Joel offers you small glimpses into life growing up with Tommy, you talk a lot about your parents and what it was like to lose them before the outbreak. It was nice, you think on the walk back to town, hand still clasped in his as he walks you back to your house.

He waits for you to unlock the door and step through, before he dips his head to kiss you firmly on the lips. It’s chaste, he’s not pushing his luck, but the whiskey you shared on the walk back makes you bolder. You snake your hand up to the nape of his neck to keep him in place whilst you run your tongue over his velvety bottom lip. He opens his mouth for you, momentarily letting your tongues meet before you’re both pulling away. Neither of you say anything to each other. You just squeeze his hand as he walks away, but all you can think as you close the door behind you and rest your back on it is to thank the good Lord above for bringing Joel to you, bestowing him with the patience of a saint, because that same good Lord knows that he might just be the best thing to happen to you since Mark died.

Joel Miller Taglist: @winwin70@jessie8605@trulybetty@amanitacowboy@morning-star-joy@tieronecrush@leeeesahhh@babeincolor@beee-haw@kirsteng42@mirandablue1@sixxslut@impala1967dwinchester@flash2412@gimmebackmysoul@kelp-dreaming@gracie7209@voteforpedro09@brittmb115@karokaroxx@amb11@heartfairy @grumpy-the-tired @Lillilotus @doctorstatic@morallyinept@southernbe@elissaa@pop-sugar102@u-luciferssatanicdaughter@alyhull@purplerain44@harryleatherfit@lovely-ateez@emilianamason @bootyliciousposts @lorilane33@casa-boiardi@cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @tightjeansjavi @cavillscurls @darkroastjoel @morning-star-joy

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