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echo-rambles · 1 year

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love don't know how to rest

words: 2,679 summary: a quick phone call with your boyfriend chan turns into a mini vent session. tags: swearing, established relationship, long distance relationship, minor argument, fluff, making up note: this started off as me clowning on chan's new hair because as much as I love him I was not a fan of it when I initially saw it. somehow it turned into a weird little vent thing about missing someone and wishing they'd take better care of themselves. (title from how to rest by the crane wives)

-o0o-

“Hey baby.” You immediately greet, answering your phone and then propping it up so your hands are free.

Chan's face takes up the majority of the screen, and you get a close up of his forehead before he also seems to settle his phone somewhere. He hums in acknowledgment.

You know for a fact he’s not trying to be rude, so you don’t worry too much about his non-greeting. Quickly looking at the time and doing the math, you speak up again. “Good morning. Have you just woken up?” It would be about 8am in Korea right now.

“Hi- sorry I meant to say hi when you did.” It’s ok, you mumble, moving about the kitchen as you continue to make yourself dinner. Chan had messaged you only a few minutes ago, asking if you were busy and if he could call through. It wasn’t a very complicated dinner, mostly just heating up leftovers on the stove, so of course you told him to call. “I’ve been up since… six? Five maybe.”

“Chan.” You chastise gently. Sending him a little look from your spot at the stove. He ducks his head, already giving you one of his smiles that spell an apology.

“I know. I just- my brain hasn’t been able to shut off. I’m making the most of it until I end up crashing in the middle of the day.”

“Light schedule?” You ask, already assuming the answer since otherwise he wouldn’t be able to so readily nap mid day. Chan makes a little agreeable noise. “That's good. And hey, if you don’t sleep at some point I can always ask Seungmin to smother you until you pass out. Forced nap time.”

“That’s so fucked up.” But it gets him to chuckle, and that’s really what matters. “He’d do it too.”

“Of course he would; I asked. Hey, nice hat by the way.” You lean close to your phone, squinting at the beanie he’s wearing.

It makes Chan groan and push the beanie over his eyes for a brief second. “I'm trying to hide my hair, since someone hates it.”

“I never said I hate it!”

“…you said it reminded you of straw.”

Ok, so maybe you absolutely said something like that when you first saw his hair. It sort of just tumbled out of your mouth. “Because they bleached it all wrong! They killed your hair, Christopher. I was shocked, and distraught.”

Chan shifts his beanie around, laying his hand flat on his head but never once taking it off. “I thought it would’ve come out better. I’ve been wanting to dye it-”

“I know, baby.” The teasing slips away from your tone, replaced by something more gentle and understanding. “But you gotta let your hair heal first before you fuck with it. Maybe let it grow out and dye it dark the next time you can? And then, once it’s no longer damaged as hell, you can do something fun. Like pink?”

Chan’s nodding along to your words, clearly watching you shut off the stove and shove all of your food into a bowl. He smiles at your suggestion. “One day you’ll get your pink hair dreams.”

“We can match! It'd be so much fun. I think the world needs Pink Chan more than ever, really.”

He hums instead of playing into the banter, hand still on his head, and you know that no matter how much you apologize for your initial reaction or how many jokes you make, the thought that he did something you don’t like is going to eat him up. Sighing, you bring the phone close to your face.

“I think you look gorgeous no matter what, you know that right? I’ll tell you every single day until you believe me. Even with straw hair.” You lower your voice, trying to sound as solemn and as serious as you can. “Even if you were bald.”

“Bald?” His face goes all scrunched as he laughs, tipping his head out of frame and pressing a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah. Shave it all off. Start from scratch.” You bring the phone and your bowl over to the couch, settling in. “I’m sure there’d be girls who would go crazy for the shaved look.”

“Should I be worried that you’re making sure I look good for other girls?”

“Hey, listen, this is your job, and part of my job as the world's greatest girlfriend is to make sure you’re marketable to your audience.”

He’s still smiling, all big and soft and it loosens the knot of guilt in your chest.

After a few minutes of the both of you falling silent, you eating and Chan just watching you, you finally speak up again. “I’m sorry for saying that stuff about your hair. I didn’t mean to sound so… mean.”

“I know. I appreciate the apology though.”

“I just worry. Which is a shit excuse but- I don’t want them ruining your hair. I need you to take care of yourself, because I’m not there to do it!”

“I know-”

“You take care of the boys and I take care of you because you refuse to let them do it; that’s always been the deal, but I’m not there so now no one is taking care of you-”

“Love,” he cuts you off. Voice firm and commanding. “It’s just hair.” It’s your turn to mumble out an I know. “It’ll grow back. It can be fixed. I’m ok.”

“I just wish I was there.”

The silence creeps in again, and your food is growing cold. Every day you miss him, and the feeling just continues to grow and grow and you’re so afraid that it’ll get so big that soon you won’t have room for anything else. You need him to be ok, because if he’s not then… you’re not really sure what you’d do.

“We take care of each other, yeah?” Chan says, making you snap your attention back to your screen. He must have pulled his phone closer to his face, and if this were any other moment you’d take the opportunity to snap a picture of the angle he chose, but since you feel all cold and serious in the pit of your stomach you instead just nod at his words.

“Yeah-”

“I don’t want you to ever feel like this is a one way street. It’s not your job to take care of me.”

“I definitely don’t get paid enough for it to be a job.” The pit isn’t too cold or serious for you to deny yourself mumbling out a little quip.

“We choose to look out for each other, yeah? I take care of you too. Don’t forget that.” Your little comment makes him smile. Just a tick of his mouth, but his whole face softens and you wish you could touch him right now.

You want to be in his arms. Face pressed to his neck, where you can feel his pulse against the highest point of your cheek and his hands spread across your back and anchoring you. Long distance sucks ass.

“I won’t. But sometimes-” You stop yourself, chew at your bottom lip and aggressively spear your food with your fork. “I worry that you’re so busy taking care of everyone else that sometimes you forget about yourself.”

“I’m guessing this has gone way beyond your feelings about my hair.” Chan tries to joke, but there’s still that underlying tone of his. The special one that only he can really get. It works it’s way under your skin.

For a brief moment you think about leaving it there. Changing the subject. This was meant to be a relaxing phone call during a moment Chan had to breathe. He has a break and he chose to call you and all of a sudden you're just sort of dumping out all of these thoughts onto him over room temperature leftovers.

But then you remind yourself that this is Chan. He’ll know if you’re trying to bottle something away. He always does. You joke that you know him, that he’s like an open book to you. This isn’t a one way street. He knows you just as well.

Fuck it. Rip the band-aid off.

“You look stressed. Overworked. Like you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Oh wow, ok. Straight to the point.”

“The only reason I know you’ve been eating is because Lino and Bin would probably force feed you before you ever went hungry. You just look exhausted and I know this is your job- I know you signed up for this. But it still breaks my heart sometimes when I can see you starting to strain under the pressure.”

“I’m- I’m doing fine. It’s hard, yeah, but-”

“It’s worth it.” You finish his sentence, already knowing what he’s going to say because he always says the same thing. “I know. Why do you think it kills me that I can’t fucking be there? Because you work yourself to the bone and there’s no one around that’s willing to pull you away and force you to actually take care of yourself. The boys- I know they try, but they still see you as their leader. As their big brother. The things I do, the way I argue with you? No way they’d be willing to go that far. And I’m not trying to paint myself as this ultra special person but- jesus Chris, you can’t tell me that if, I don’t know; Felix tried to speak to you the way I do, you wouldn’t get upset.”

Chan doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are big and liquid and he’s listening to every single word out of your mouth. When you say his name, directly ask him a question, he’s blinking. Thinking about it. “No, you’re right.”

Finally, you place your bowl on the coffee table, feeling like you need to get up and move or else you’ll probably start crying or something equally as embarrassing. God, it’s like all of these pent up emotions have just decided to spill out. Things you didn’t even realize you were upset about until now.

“Your hair honestly means nothing in the grand scheme of things. It’s hair, like you said. But it was something for me to tease you about- something small that I was upset about that I could actually comment on, when really all I’ve wanted to do these last few weeks is scream at you to slow the fuck down. No- I know what you’re going to say and I’m not talking about the company schedules. That’s your job. I’m talking about all of the extra hours I know you’re pulling because nothing feels perfect enough. All of those hours where you’re meant to be relaxing but instead you just work more because you feel like if you stop you’ll stagnate.”

Leaning away from his phone, Chan takes a deep breath. Puffs out his cheeks for a moment before releasing it all and then dragging both hands over his face. The beanie gets dislodged, and you see a shock of pastel yelloworange. It’s not even that bad. It looks cute on him. But it felt like some weird shock to your system when he showed it to you and you could tell he was unhappy with it.

“What do you want me to say? It seems like you’ve covered all of the bases.”

“I want-” You huff in frustration. “I don’t want you to say what you think I want to hear, ok? Never. We don’t do that to each other. I just want-” Again, you cut yourself off, not actually sure what you want. Not sure what the entire fucking point of this little rant has been.

You take your built up tension and you make good use of it. Bringing your bowl to the kitchen and beginning to clean up the dishes while you listen to the way Chan sighs into the silence. There really isn’t anything for him to say.

You can hear the way he tries to start a sentence at least twice, and you know that he’s frustrated that he can’t fix whatever this is. But there’s nothing to fix because nothing’s broken. You’re just kind of at the end of your rope and you just want your boyfriend close. Shutting off the sink and picking up your phone, you try to give him something close to a reassuring smile.

“Listen, I think I figured out what I want.” He looks at you, jaw working and eyes shining and you want to take his face in your hands and kiss him stupid. But you can’t have that, not right now. So you’ll have to settle with second best. “We take care of each other, yeah, absolutely, but that means you have to take care of yourself when I’m not around to do it. Because I’m thousands of miles away. I know it’s a big ask but can you please do that… for me?”

“Yeah… yeah, I can do that. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Baby, I don’t need an apology. I just want you to be healthy.” You’re quiet for a beat, watching the way his eyes flick down and away from his phone before skipping back to you. “And also for your hair to look different.”

“Wow.” It gets him to laugh. It feels like a small victory.

“I’m nothing if not consistent. And hey, I’m sorry too. For just- whatever that was. It was unfair to unload it all when you’re probably minutes away from being busy again.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Like, I do get why you’re sorry but I’ll always choose to listen to your problems. Especially if they include me, that way we can figure out how to fix it.” His soft smile is back, crinkling his eyes and making your lungs weak.

Humming, you finally finish putting all of the dishes away. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you the most.”

“I’m pretty sure I loved you before I knew you.” Chan says, smile stretching wider as he tilts his head like an adorable fucking puppy.

You smile back, and it feels like sugar fills your mouth. “Ooh, that’s a good one.”

It’s the same little game you always play after any sort of tense conversation. Trying to one up the other and having to concede when they say something that legitimately makes you melt. It’s a reminder that things are hard but you get through it.

Hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter, you sigh. It’s a little dramatic, infusing just enough theatrics to keep the levity of the conversation. “Sometimes it really sucks that we both believe in healthy communication. I wish we were the type of couple to ignore things until the feeling goes away but really it just festers until we can’t take it anymore.”

“I know, right. We’re just too good at being a couple. It’s kind of boring actually.”

“That’s what I’m saying! You should tell me to shut the fuck up more often and I’ll… I don’t know, accuse you of cheating?”

“With who?”

“Lino?”

“Wow. Shut the fuck up!” He manages to say, between his breathless laughter.

“Yeah! See, you’re getting the hang of it already.”

Things might not be solved, like at all, but you feel a little lighter. You spend the next ten minutes joking with Chan, and things feel like they settle back to normal. You’ll probably have to have this conversation again, with less tension and frustration. But that’s for later. When he doesn’t look so tired and has a block of free time to actually talk about it in depth.

You’re going to see him, soon. You hold on to that knowledge as tightly as you can. You’ll be there, with him, able to touch him and kiss him and tell him that all you want is for him to be happy. Maybe you can have this conversation again, in person. Where you can hold hands and crawl into his lap. Soon.

#stray kids #skz #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #echo writes #this is incredibly self indulgent #also i make some assumptions on how chan feels/how things work #anyway here's more self insert fic from me #because chan has bewitched me and caused me to write self insert for the first time ever

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teaspacebar · 22 days

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spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit.

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?”

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You’re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again.

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head.

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain.

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago!

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth.

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!”

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register.

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.”

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!”

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron.

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal.

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.”

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!”

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous.

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips.

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns.

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick.

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor.

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?”

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, ��Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #neurodivergent!reader #— moth writes

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kisseobie · 6 months

Text

jasmine

pairing: non idol jongseob x fem!reader

genre: fluff

a saccharine summer evening spent at your favorite nail parlor is so much sweeter when you’re accompanied by a boy made out of star-shaped tangerines 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

tags: established relationship, reader is slightly anxious, the sweetest boyfie seob, reader is sooo girly, slightly suggestive if you squint, jongseob thinks ur the prettiest girl in the world, usage of petnames (baby, princess, etc..), yall are so in love it’s sick, no smut in this but mdni pls

a/n: haiii everyone ^_^ so i haven’t written self inserts in years but i desperately crave more jongseob fics (as u can see from my last post lol) sooooo here i am!! this is very self indulgent but if i like how this goes i mighttttt start taking piwon requests :p please be kind as i haven’t written in a veryyyy long time… anyways enjoy 𓇼⋆｡˚

listening to: jasmine - dpr live ♪

“they have to soak off my previous set before they get started so you really don’t have to stay with me here if you don’t want to seob.. it’s gonna be 2 hours at least.”

you shyly inform him as you begin to retrieve your phone from your back pocket to search for your appointment confirmation email as the pair of you come to a gentle halt in front of the entrance of your favorite nail salon. you pause before entering, turning to face towards him as the salty breeze of the nearby boardwalk cards through jongseob’s copper colored hair, a sight that makes you swoon. “you sure you won’t be bored?” you ask shyly, and jongseob gives you a toothy grin in return, eyes crinkling softly as he tilts his head towards the sliding doors of the salon, a sweet and silent reply to your hesitance that speaks, “i’m never bored when i’m with you”. he slowly lifts his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your cheek, all whilst interlacing his fingers with your slightly smaller ones as you both make your way into the salon.

you somehow find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

it’s been just short of a year since kim jongseob first approached you, fidgeting with the fabric of his favorite hoodie and swaying back and forth on his heels to ease his nerves as he asked you for your number. the sweet boy expected for you to kindly let him down (partly because you had never spoken to him a day in your life, and partly because of the gorillaz logo on his apparel), but to his astonishment, you simply punched your number into his keypad, and one text reading: “hi :)” led to a plethora of late night conversations, hushed giggles shared in his bedroom, and coffee flavored kisses in the mornings (much to his roomates’ dismay).

he’s wearing that same hoodie this evening too.

the domesticity of your blooming relationship is new, but never unwelcome, so it didn’t surprise you when he asked to accompany you when you were cuddled up with him a few nights ago, haphazardly mentioning that you were planning to get a new set of acrylics soon. seob had been paying for your previous sets despite your constant disapproval, but this was his first time going with you to a booking, and it felt oddly intimate, like you were starting to enter a more serious stage of your relationship.

jongseob’s reassurance allows you to let go of your irrational fear of him dying of boredom during your appointment, and with that, you two carry onto your seven o’clock session.

“girl, that’s your man? that’s the one you were telling me about?”

are the first words that leave your nail tech’s lips as as you settle down into her usual station, setting your purse to the side, straightening your jean skirt, and adjusting your bra strap as you question the surprise written all over her face. you had spent countless of sessions with her discussing your relationship with jongseob, her even being there for the details of your distant crush on him prior to you being asked out. always the persistent type, she had been practically begging for you to bring him around these last few appointments, mentioning something about “taking a good look” at the boy who had swiftly stolen your heart.

your tech must have noticed the slight blush of embarrassment appearing on your cheeks, because she jumped to clarifying her previous statement with, “i don’t mean that in a bad way babe! he’s definitely very attractive, i was just surprised you were so shy in approaching him is all.” at these words you tilted your head a bit, only more confused about the implications of what she was attempting to tell you.

“y/n, he was staring at you the entire time you were checking in like he’d hang the stars and moon for you if you’d ask. he had that dopey lovesick look and everything. he’s obviously smitten, you have literally nothing to worry about.” she relays to you with amusement as she dips your fingertips in acetone.

you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in and quietly giggle. “really? okay i’m really glad you said that, he’s been so sweet to pay for all of my sets without me even asking him to and i was just so worried that he’d hate me forever if he got bored sitting here. i think i’m just not used to doing simple chores with him rather than elaborately planned dates” you whisper to her. you then take a peek at your boyfriend’s comfortable form lounging on one of the hot pink seats of the salon, his nintendo switch clad in one hand, and his cheek pressing against the other. you notice he only has his left airpod in, just in case you needed to call for him. your heart melts at the sight, and you finally turn your full attention back to your tech, now removing your old set of nails.

as you wait patiently in your chair you begin to lightly sway your head to the song playing on a distant salon speaker, one that your boyfriend coincidentally has on repeat each time your with him nowadays. “it’s called jasmine, it reminds me of you.” is what you remember him telling you one morning, when you woke up for the first time in his bed, wired headphones connecting you both as the dpr live track overtook the cozy atmosphere.

every now and then you and seob glance at each other from across the salon, to which you both begin breaking out into big smiles and rosy cheeks. your nail technician carries on with replicating the reference nails you showed her to a T, but not without silently noting the heart eyes you and jongseob shoot at each other everytime your eyes happen to lock. this time, he mischievously motions for you to glance at your phone, a quiet “ding!” from your cell grasping both you and your tech’s attention.

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: you look so pretty right now baby, i’m so excited to feel your nails in my hair later lol

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: and maybe scratching my back too ;)

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: omg that was so embarrassing im so sorry please look away plead im so bad at this fuck

you look away from your screen embarrassingly fast, flustered and avoiding any eye contact with both your loser boyfriend (who is wallowing in his own embarrassment) and the woman now raising her eyebrows in front of you as she waits for your nails to cure under the uv lamp.

she is so making fun of you for that next time.

“andddd we’re done! just go wash your hands and your boyfriend can pay at the desk. he looks like he’s gonna flip if he isn’t holding you in some way in the next two minutes and i really don’t need to witness that.” she exclaims, not without exaggeratedly rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

you begin to fully assess your fresh new set of acrylics, now topped off with a sparkly clear coat. your nail tech even added some oil to your cuticles to try and make up for months of self-inflicted damage. after a minute of observing, you hum in approval, deducing happily that your boyfriend is going to love the colors you chose: tangerine with hints of cherry red to subtly match with his hair.

“perfect, just like always. thank you so much!” you say while handing her a generous tip, to which she holds out her hand in refusal and shakes her head. “no tip today, just go spend some time with him, i’m so happy for you y/n, seriously.” she replies kindly. you give her a hug to say thanks and tuck the cash back into your purse, turning and making your way towards the chair your boyfriend is currently occupying as he watches you with a warm smile, hands crossed in front of his chest as he holds back a laugh.

“what’s so funny?” you question as you approach him slowly.

“i called her beforehand and sent her a tip for you, i knew you were gonna try to pay somehow.” he giggles as he stands up. you scoff, but deep down you know you should have known he would outsmart you like this.

“i can’t believe you! i’ve told you a hundred times before that i don’t want you to spend your money on me!” you try to reason with him, to which he cuts your frustration off with a simple “who’s going to take care of you then, princess? now show me your nails!” he says as he hovers his hands in front of him, a signal for you to follow suit so he can observe the result of the previous two hours of work.

you decide to drop the subject for now and let excitement take over once again at his request, bouncing up and down whilst placing your hands atop of his palms, not allowing him to speak before you explain that “they match your hair, see? i asked her to do orange and red ombre!! and i know you love stars so i also asked her to add little golden star studs on my pinky nails! what do you think babe?” you half squeal out at him, clearly awaiting his approval.

“you did this for me?” he asks.

you deflate a little, dreading the small chance that your next words will result in an underwhleming reaction from him. “well yeah, sorry if it’s weird, i just wanted to do something nice since you offered to accompany me even though you would just be sitting in your chair for two hou—” he cuts off your anxious rambling with a strong kiss to your lips, followed by both of his palms covering the sides of your face to pull you impossibly closer. you gasp from the sudden movement, and just as you close your eyes to reciprocate, your boyfriend pulls back to show you the prettiest smile you have ever seen on his face.

“i guess you like them.” you sheepishly respond, holding back a smile equally as large.

he just replies by peppering your tanned skin with tangerine flavored kisses, each peck accompanied with the words “i love you, i love you so much”.

you and jongseob finally step out of the salon hand in hand, the cool air blowing onto your faces as you squeeze your interlocked fingers. jongseob presses on the pedestrian call button with one hand as you both anticipate the streetlamp to shift to green. you fill the comfortable silence with giggles and the occasional kiss to the cheek the entire commute to the subway, uncaring of prolonged glances from onlookers. words are only spoken an hour later when you’ve finally enter the warmth of his (and practically your) bedroom. jongseob turns towards you this time, clearly not as timid as he was hours before, smirking while pronouncing,

“in case you were still wondering, that offer from my text earlier still stands…”

it’s your turn to roll your eyes and shut him up, tugging him roughly towards you with the front of his stupid hoodie as your mouths connect with an urgency you’ve never felt before, the pair of you hurriedly falling on top of his bed as your nails make contact with his scalp.

𓇼⋆｡˚

in the quiet of the night, considered by some as early hours of the morning, jongseob holds your bare frame tightly against his own as he strokes his hand along your freckled back. your warm breaths tuck into the small crevices of his chest as your tangerine tinted nails draw hearts lightly into his skin, and with that, the two of you gradually lull into a peaceful slumber, but not before you look up at him and whisper,

“i did it for you.”

a/n: mwahahahahahahahaha it’s finally out.. thank u for being patient!! it was honestly so motivating to see that despite the fact that so many people had never read my writing before, their love for jongseob made them crave this fic soooo much LMFAOO we all are so down bad for this man it’s a bit insane. anyways like i said i haven’t written for years so this was short and a little choppy but i tried my best and hopefully i’ll get better with time ^_^ anyways i’ll be finishing up my next fic soon and then i’ll start working on requests!! thank u for reading, it means a lot to me <3

please do not repost my writing!

tags:

@chuuswifereal @angelcbf @lakoya @zendieya-8 @bambispostsblog @saturnh0ney @theyluvsosa @youresolivlie @woozixo @www90kitsch @sirenla @ihatewreckingballmains @curiousgworge @haileyyey @khfviq @highkeyadumbasslmao @lovebunnys-world @astro-doll-the-star @kyokopi @meowmeowjang @imma-penguin1 @sophia-is-tiny

ᥫ᭡

#jongseob #jongseob x reader #p1h #p1h jongseob #p1harmony #kpop writers #p1harmony x reader #kim jongseob #piwon #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony drabbles

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alessiasfreckles · 9 months

Text

Fitting In

alessia russo x reader with social anxiety

You've been with the team for a few months, but your anxiety is making it hard to find your place. When you spend lunch hiding out in your car one day, Lessi comes to find you.

A/N: this is my first woso fic, i hope you like it! i'm planning on writing a part two with real fluff, maybe taking place a month or two later. also this is basically just a self insert fic but i figured maybe someone else could relate to it, so this is for all my other girlies with social anxiety and adhd out there

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

When you joined the team a few months ago, you weren’t sure how you would fit in. And now, 3 months later, you still weren’t sure.

You had a tendency to over analyse social interactions, situations, anything really, and you knew it didn’t help your social anxiety but there was no way to shut off the constant noise in your brain. At least, not until you met her. Alessia Russo. One of Arsenal’s, and England’s, star strikers. The way she moved on the pitch was like magic, and you swore you could see glitter in the air when she laughed. The crush you had on her grew by the minute. You wanted to at least be friends with her so badly, but you just didn’t know how.

You still didn’t really have any close friends on the team. Yeah, everyone was friendly, but there were clearly established friend groups, and you didn’t know how to find your place in any of them. When you first joined you would be invited out with everyone, or invited to people’s places for movie nights, that sort of thing. But a lot of the time you felt out of place, so worried about what to say and how you were coming across that the whole situation ended up making you more anxious than if you hadn’t gone in the first place. When you did come out of your shell and say something, you’d spend the rest of the evening thinking about what you said, if it made sense, how you said it, what you should have said instead.

It was exhausting.

Your sleep schedule was awful, most nights you couldn’t get to sleep until 3am. You’d be lying in bed, desperately trying to sleep but your brain not letting you. You’d wake up feeling groggy, but you didn’t want to let anyone see how badly it was affecting you, so you put on a brave face in front of your teammates. Most days, as soon as training was over, you’d go straight home. You were too tired to do anything other than be alone.

One day, at lunch, you couldn’t face the thought of trying to figure out where to sit, the overstimulation from everyone talking, the noises and smells, so you decided to sit in your car, alone. You figured that no one would miss you anyway, everyone seemed to have figured out that you were a bit of a loner by now, and they mostly left you alone.

“Something’s up with y/n, right? It’s not just me?” Leah asked Beth at lunch the next day, scanning the lunch room as she tried to find your face.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what,” Beth shrugged, frowning. “I want to help her, but-”

“Have you guys seen y/n?” Alessia interrupted, coming up from behind them. “She’s not here.”

Leah and Beth both shook their heads. “Maybe she’s in the gym, or on the training field?”. It wasn’t unusual for players to spend their breaks hanging out in other areas, and Alessia nodded.

“I think I’ll go see if I can find her,” she said, and Leah nodded.

“That’s a good idea, Less. Maybe you can figure out what’s wrong.”

Alessia peeked into the gym, but it was empty. She thought maybe you were walking laps, so she checked the training field, but you weren’t there either. Now she was starting to worry. The two of you hadn’t talked much, but she always listened to what you had to say, and got the feeling that there was a lot more to you than you let on. Deciding to check the car park to see if your car was still there, her face brightened as she found it. When she realised you were sitting inside it, her brow furrowed in confusion.

You look up from your lunch to see Alessia stood a few metres away from the car, looking at you with a small frown on her face. Is she upset with you? Your eyes meet, and you freeze for a second before raising a hand to wave awkwardly. Her frown clears, and she comes over to the passenger door.

Knocking on the window and opening the door, she leant down. “Can I come in?” she asked, smiling sheepishly.

“Uh, yeah, sure!” you reply, sitting up a little straighter, mind racing. Why is she here? What does she want from you?

“So, um, what are you doing out here?” she asks gently, glancing down at the lunch on your lap.

“Oh, um, sometimes it’s just a lot, you know? Everyone talking and all of the noise. And I never really know where to sit,” you trail off, laughing awkwardly, inwardly cringing at yourself for saying that.

“I get that. Sometimes some of the girls can be so loud! Like, Katie, didn’t you ever learn what an inside voice is?” she laughs gently, and you smile. “And you know you can sit wherever you want, right? None of us are going to bite you.”

“Haha, yeah, I know, I just…” you shrug, face burning.

Alessia turns to look at you, worry lining her face. “Y/n, is something going on? Has anyone made you feel unwelcome here, or anything?”

“No, everyone’s been so nice, I promise, no one’s done anything,” you start rambling, anxiety rising in your chest as hot tears start to well up in your eyes. You bury your face in your hands. “I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing.”

Suddenly you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, pulling you in to a tight hug. You stiffened to the touch but Alessia’s arms held you gently, and slowly you relaxed into it.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmurs, and you feel your breath returning to normal.

After a minute she lets you go and you let out a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry,” you sighed, wiping your eyes.

“Y/n, you don’t need to apologise, it’s okay, I promise,” she says, big blue eyes full of sincerity. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

You shrug, not knowing what to say. “There isn’t really anything going on, that’s the problem. I just, my brain is just, I feel like everyone else got like, a manual telling them how to exist and how to talk to people and how to have friends, and I didn’t get the manual. You didn’t get a manual, right?” you ask, looking at her with a wry smile.

She smiles apologetically. “Nope, no manual.”

“Well, it was worth asking,” you laugh. “Things just seem to be really hard for me when everyone else finds them easy, you know? And I’m just so tired all the time, but I don’t know why, I barely do anything, I’m so lazy.”

She frowns at that. “You’re not lazy, y/n. Do you get enough sleep?”

You laugh at that. “Oh no, definitely not. Most nights I don’t get to sleep until like, 3am, sometimes 4am.”

“What, why?” she asks in shock.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just can’t sleep a lot of the time. I try to, I lie in bed with my eyes closed, but there’s just too much going on in my head, it feels like my brain is actively working against me.”

“It’s no wonder you’re so tired then!” she admonishes you gently, and the look she gives you makes you fall for her a little more.

“I’ve always had trouble sleeping,” you explain. “Ever since I was little. And I’ve always found social situations hard, too.”

“I’ve always hated meeting new people,” the blonde admits, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s gotten a little bit easier, I think, especially after the Euros, I had to do so many interviews and media things, it helped kind of desensitise me to it, but I still don’t like it.”

“Huh,” you say quietly. You never would have guessed that she felt that way. “You always seem so confident.”

“All just a part of my effortlessly cool persona,” she grins, winking at you. You laugh, and she gives you a look of fake hurt. “What, you don’t think I’m effortlessly cool?”

Smiling, you tilt your head. “As long as you believe you’re effortlessly cool, that’s all that counts.” you tease.

Suddenly, Alessia’s phone buzzes. “Oh, we should probably head back in. The others will be glad to see you, they were worried when you weren’t there at lunch.”

“Really?” you ask, surprise clear in your voice, but it quickly turns to worry. “Oh no, am I not meant to leave during lunch? I’m sorry, I just thought-”

“Woah, hey, relax!” she puts a hand on your arm. “Y/n, you’re allowed to do what you want during lunch. The others were just worried about you because you’re a part of the team. Our team. That makes you a part of our family.”

You smile sheepishly.

“Now come on, let’s get going. I don’t fancy giving Jonas an excuse to make us run extra laps, do you?”

#woso x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo fluff #russo x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #awfc x reader #lessi russo #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #hannah writes fics

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partially-controlled-chaos · 4 months

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Indulgence: Something Sweeter

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader Rating: E (Explicit) 18+, MDNI/NSFW Warnings: Kind of porn without plot, but most of the plot is in the previous section of this. Fingering, oral (m receiving and GN receiving), finger licking/sucking, nipple play, penetrative sex in orifice of your choosing, biting, predator play if you squint really hard. Summary: Halsin has always struggled with indulging in the more pleasurable aspects of life. However, with the shadow curse lifted and your group now on the road to Baldur's Gate, you and Halsin find time to indulge in a bit of fun and a sweet treat before retiring for the evening. Word Count: 12.8K (7.5k of which is smut about 1/3 of the way down) a/n: As usual, this took me significantly longer and ended up much wordier than I had originally anticipated, but that seems to be my thing. I tried my best to keep this as gender neutral as possible and I think I did well with it, but keep in mind that I just self insert my Tav when writing so if there are mentions of a gendered reader, I'm very sorry. Anyway, this is a follow up to another fic I posted a little while ago, but you don't have to read that in order to read this one. This one is main all about the smut, but if you'd like to know the context behind some things as well as the tension build up, you can find the first part linked below! I've written smut before and I've posted a few snippets here and there, but I've never posted an entire fic for it so I'm about to post this and dip out for the night. Thank you so much to everyone that has left love on the first part of this!

Read on AO3 here if you prefer! Part 1 of this fic can be found here. Masterlist

The area surrounding the town Rivington was uncomfortably hot and incessantly muggy, days of rain left the air humid even after the sun had long set below the horizon. Given the heat of the day and the exhaustion that had come with it, you and your party had decided to camp early for the evening, ready to get a good nights rest before arriving in Rivington and ultimately into Baldur’s Gate. The last remaining rays of sunshine had turned a vibrant orange with streaks of gold, giving you barely enough light to see what you were doing without causing injury to yourself.

Sweat lazily rolled down the back of your neck, tickling the hair at the nape as you focused on steading your hand. The sharpened blade of your knife gently sliced through the soft, malleable wax of the honeycomb you were carefully trying to harvest from the beehive hovering above you. You turned your blade slowly as you cut, gently nudging the occasional honeybee out of the way with the tip of your finger as to avoid harming them. You were precariously balanced on the stump of a dead tree that you’d pulled to the hive and wedged between the roots of the tall oak that you stood before.

You managed to slice a decent sized chunk of honeycomb from the tree, holding it carefully between your fingers to keep from crushing it as you bent your knees into a squat. You dropped the fresh honeycomb into a glass jar that that sat nestled between your mud covered boots, your fingers clutching the bark with your nails to keep yourself steady. As you stood back up to collect more of the honeycomb, you could hear the ever growing buzz of the bees you were dangerously close to upsetting. You stuck your knife back into the wax, beginning to slice again as you heard a slow stride of footsteps approach.

“And how many stings have you collected this evening, my friend?” The deep rumble of Halsin’s voice carried through the silence of the forest. He referenced your run in with a hive of angry bees from a few nights prior, having been stung multiple times in an attempt to get a jar of honey after a strong craving for something sweet. By the end of the night, you wound up sitting cross legged in Halsin’s tent as he meticulously pulled bee stingers from numerous welts across any bit of exposed skin.

“Your humor escapes me sometimes, did you know that?” You asked as you peered over your shoulder, offering a playful smile to Halsin as he joined you, standing by your side as you attempted to balance yourself on your tree stump. Your balance was unfortunately short lived as a bee zipped by your head, making you duck as a reflex. Given that you weren’t the most graceful person to walk amongst your group, you quickly lost your footing and starting the quick fall backwards.

Thankfully, like he had done at the pond a few nights prior, Halsin managed to catch you before you left the top of your stump. However, instead of taking him down with you, Halsin’s stance was firm and was able to support your weight. His hands quickly grabbed the back of your thighs, which were at chest level for him because of the height given to you by your makeshift stool, and held you firmly. With a light shove, he pushed you back into your stool and held you until you had regained your footing.

“Just as caution escapes you.” He said as he continued to brace his large hands against the back of your thighs, holding them firmly in his grasp. Your heart fluttered as you felt him pressing against you, clearing your throat before returning your knife to the honeycomb. You sliced another chunk from the hive, dropping the sweet treat into the open jar as Halsin offered it to you, having taken it from between your feet. Satisfied with the fullness of the jar, you cleaned your knife on the rim before sheathing it back against your hip.

“I’ll have you know that you’re the only reason I’m here.” You said as you hopped down from your tree stump, sticking your fingers in your mouth to clean them of any remaining honey.

“If my memory serves me,” he said as he wiped the rim of the jar with his finger, “I don’t believe we declared a winner for that little game of ours. Instead, you toppled into the lake and took me with you.” You chuckled at the thought, remembering night fondly. You had promised each other a jar of fresh honey for whoever could skip a stone the farthest across a lake at your previous camp, but the night had ended with you both in the lake and aching for a kiss. You had longed for more with Halsin even before that fateful night, but since then it had been a burning desire that gnawed at your heart.

“We didn’t, but we both know I certainly win that little game. And I’m afraid we’re running out of time for another chance.” Your eyes remained on his finger, watching as it circled the rim of the jar and cleaned it of any honey that had dribbled down the side.

“I’m afraid it does.” Halsin said softly, a hint of sadness flickering in his voice, suggesting he shared your sentiment. You both stood there quietly, unsure of what to say next or where to take the remainder of the evening.

The shine of the leftover honey on Halsin’s forefinger caught your eye, tempting you to take a taste of it for yourself. You eyed the thick droplet of honey that threatened to drip onto the forest floor below, gently biting your lip as you tried to fight back the urge that had suddenly come over you. Unlike Halsin, you always had much less self control over your actions and frequently dove into impulsive thoughts with reckless abandon. With that in mind, you took Halsin’s hand in your own, eyeing the thick, amber colored syrup on his finger for a moment before sticking the entirety of his forefinger into your watering mouth.

They honey was sweet and thick against your tongue, a delightful treat that briefly alleviated the stress of day. Given just how sticky and fresh the honey was, you were unable to quickly clean Halsin’s finger of the substance. Your tongue wrapped around the tip of his finger, swirling the digit briefly before pressing the extremity to the roof of your mouth and suckling gently. Your eyes flicked upwards to meet Halsin’s, holding his stare as you diligently licked and sucked the honey from his finger teasingly slow.

Halsin’s heart beat rapidly against his chest, pounding against the inside of his ribcage as he watched and felt every second of your tongue dancing across his skin. Your tongue was soft and wet, caressing every bit of skin you came across with a delicate touch. However, there was a bit of roughness from time to time, the feeling of your tastebuds prickled against him as you continued to lick. With your tongue pressing his finger to the roof of your mouth, you had created a deliciously tight suction around his finger, making it throb in tune with his steadily pounding heart. The suction was strong enough that even if he wanted to, Halsin would have had difficulty removing his finger from your mouth.

Halsin felt the all too familiar of tension of arousal forming in his shoulders and neck as his skin began to grow warm. The promise that you had made to each other for a secluded night away to indulge in each other had yet to come to fruition, something always interrupting the peaceful camp nights to prevent you from sneaking away, and you both were growing restless. You and Halsin had almost made it a game of seeing how worked up you could get the other, all with the hope of the following night to finally be the night where you could drop all responsibilities for a few hours and simply lose each other in kisses and caresses.

Halsin was much better at the spoken teasings. His words were able to quickly make your heart flutter and your cheeks flush, leaving you longing for more of his praises and composed flirtations. You, on the other hand, were much more efficient at teasingly soft physical contact; a sweeping brush of your shoulder against his bare arm as you walked your path towards Baldur’s Gate, your thigh just barely touching his own while sitting around the campfire, and even a lingering touch when you happened to brush hands with each other. This, on the other hand, was the most forward you’d been since you had both skipped stones together a few nights prior. You were growing impatient with waiting; you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

After you were certain his finger had been thoroughly cleaned of any remaining bits of honey, you slowly pulled your mouth from him, making sure that when he finally passed through the tight ring of your lips there was a resounding pop. You looked over your work, making sure you were satisfied with the cleanliness you’d offered before letting his hand drop back to his side. He cocked his head at you with a look of disbelief, surprised at your boldness only a few meters from your campmates.

“What?” You asked playfully, “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.” You offered a coy smile to Halsin before turning on your heels, promptly making your way back to camp to join your other companions for the march ahead in the morning, leaving the druid standing under the heavy cloak of the oak tree with a blush on his cheeks and a sudden tightness in his trousers, the jar of honey still in his hand.

Halsin was sure that if he didn’t act now, a chance of having a night alone with you under the stars would never happen. Tomorrow, you and your team would arrive at Baldur’s Gate, the end of your journey together rapidly approaching each day that passed, and very soon he was certain you would part ways. You had both been waiting for the ideal moment when the camp was asleep and you could slip away together quietly, but the opportunity had yet to present itself. Between attacks from lingering cultists and interruptions from whatever creature lurked in the artifact you carried, a peaceful evening where you could indulge in the other was nearly impossible to come by. Halsin wanted a night with you, desperately, and he was sure you did as well, but if that were to happen it needed to happen now.

You felt Halsin’s hands secure themselves around your waist with a grip that wasn’t firm enough to actually hurt, but enough to maneuver you around as he wished. He pressed your back along the rough bark of the tree, far enough away from the still calm beehive that you could no longer hear the faint buzzing of the residents inside. Your foot knocked against the jar of honey he had dropped when he reached for you, leaving it to the ground for now as you came face to face with the druid. Halsin’s pupils had dilated when you looked up to him, noting that the pulse point in his neck was thumping rapidly.

“You have been teasing me with that touch of yours for days now.” Halsin’s voice was low against your ear, a slight waver to his voice as hot breath that came out in quick pants tickled the hair on your neck. He loomed over you, his forearms braced against the tree as his mouth hung teasingly close to yours. You could see his chest heave with each breath, pressing against the fabric of his camp clothes with each carefully controlled inhale. Despite his usually calm demeanor, you could see the self control beginning to crack and the long suppressed warmth of excitement begin to peek through.

“And yet,” you whispered, “you’ve done nothing about it.” Halsin cocked his head slightly to one side, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Although you weren’t completely incorrect with your statement, he took no offense. You were both aware of the lack of opportune moments that the road to Baldur’s Gate offered since your night together in the woods, so if anything, he took your words as an invitation to finally act on long suppressed impulses.

“Then I believe it’s high time I change that, hmm?” Halsin asked softly, your own heart beginning to increase in speed as the reality of the moment set in. Halsin’s eyes closed as he readied himself to steal the kiss from you that he’d been fantasizing about for weeks now, but you hadn’t quite finished in your teasing of the druid just yet. Before his lips could brush yours, you ducked under his arm, rolling against your shoulder until you pushed off the tree and out from under his frame before flitting around to the opposite side.

Halsin’s head lifted, a quizzical look crossing his face as his gaze followed the path you had taken around the tree, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of you. He kept this hand along the bark of the tree, dragging it along as he walked around, surprised to see that you had seemingly disappeared. Although you were not as sneaky as some of your other campmates, you were light on your feet compared to Halsin, giving you an advantage in the game you had started.

With his attention still focused on finding you at some point along the tree, you had managed to quietly slip around the whole of the oak, quietly stepping behind the druid. You ran the tips of your fingers lightly against the top of his hand, noting how the hair on his arm prickled at your touch. Halsin swung his body in the direction you had come from, his heart rate picking up when he realized you were teasing him even more. He was met with another empty space, finding that you had vanished yet again. Taking a few steps forward, Halsin creeped along the tree the best he could, hoping to find out on the other side.

A tingle ran up his spine when he felt your nails lightly scratch over his lower back through his tunic, a low growl coming from his lips as he quickly reached one of his large arms behind him in an attempt to grab your arm before you could scurry away again. However, you had evaded him once more, leaving him to begin his hunt around the tree yet again. Halsin’s ears perked and his gaze flicked to a nearby tree at the sound of a soft whistle, smirking to himself when his gaze finally landed on you. You had managed to dart to a tree further in the woods, lazily leaning against the trunk as you waited for him to follow.

Halsin’s fingers lingered on the tree as he stepped away, slowly approaching you in your new spot. Your eyes fell to his hips, entranced with the way they swung with his distinctive gait. His manner of walking was always something that grabbed your attention, having learned early on that there were a few traits from the bear that bled into Halsin’s day-to-day life and his walking pace was certainly one of them. As he stepped closer to you, your eyes traveled up from his waist and met his eyes, which were filled with an equal mixture of lust and excitement. When he finally made his way, Halsin reached for you with a hand that trembled ever so lightly with excitement.

Before his hand could make contact with you, you had taken a step back and disappeared behind a tree once again, clearly set on continuing your little game. You both quickly fell into a rhythm of teasing touches and quick darts to the next tree. As much as you enjoyed simply teasing the usually calm man reaching out for you, you had other reasons. You wanted to get far enough away from camp so you could indulge in a bit of privacy if things processed the way you expected, not wanting to be disturbed by a feathered companion or someone coming to investigate any peculiar noises emanating from a bit of shrubbery.

You twirled and weaved your way deeper into the forest, the sounds clanking pots and laughter filled conversations from camp were slowly dying down, gradually replaced with the soft, lulling sounds of a warm night. The approaching silence made it much harder for you to scamper away undetected, allowing for a few close calls of being caught in the large hands of the druid steadily pursuing you. Admittedly, this only added to the excitement of the evening. Something about narrowly escaping from a man who spent a large portion of his time as a predator stirred something in your abdomen, leaving you with a light tingle at the thought.

Your game continued for quite some time with you leading Halsin further and further into the forest. By the time you had reached a large willow tree seated by the edge of another pond, you were satisfied with your distance from camp. You pressed your back along the trunk of the tree, allowing yourself a quick moment of rest while you listened for the footsteps that had been following you. However, you were only met with silence. You heard or saw nothing from Halsin, realizing now that you were no longer in control of your little game.

With your back to the water you peered around the trunk of the willow, curiously looking for any signs for the elf that had previously been hot on your trail. You found no signs of Halsin, beginning to think you had potentially left him behind a few trees back. The forest was peacefully quiet, save for the choir of crickets chirping in the distant grass and the occasional croak of frogs somewhere closer to the water. You stepped slowly and quietly around the edge of the tree, your breath leaving your mouth with silent exhales so you could keep yourself hidden in the darkness that now surrounded the area, the sun having set quite some time ago. The forest was seemingly empty as you circled the tree in its entirety, still stepping lightly as you began to leave the willow so you could circle back along the path you’d come from.

A firm set of hand suddenly gripped you firmly by your waist, much rougher than before, pulling you back suddenly and pressing you against the willow with enough force to cause a soft grunt to escape your lips. Halsin’s body was now pressed against yours, holding you securely to the tree. He quickly pressed his knee between your legs, rubbing against your inner thighs and effectively keeping you in place. You gasped lightly at the contact, the feeling of his body against yours after so many nights of teasing and yearning had set your limbs ablaze. And, given the feeling of something warm and quite firm pressing into your leg, you could only assume he felt the same.

“You should change up your pattern next time, my friend,” he said softly, “it’s easy to learn.” His hand came to rest at the base of your throat, his thumb gently caressing the top of your collar bone as the rest of his fingers grazed the back of your neck.

“Clever bear.” You said with a slight chuckle, your voice tapering to just barely a whisper. Your own hands came to rest lightly against his biceps.

When Halsin’s lips finally met yours, he let out a soft moan as his eyes closed, losing himself in your embrace. Your lips were soft against his, gentle and caring and everything he had dreamed about. Halsin had longed for your touch and ached to feel your lips against his, often thinking about their taste and feel while alone in his tent. He could feel a raging heat rise along his neck and into his face, even reaching to his ears after a moment. His hand left the softness of your neck, instead replacing it with the roughness of the bark behind you. His nails dug into the tree, trying to find something to distract him from the call of the beast that was beckoning him close to the edge of losing composure.

“You’ve been eating honey, haven’t you?” You asked between kisses, picking up on the faintest taste of honey as your tongue darted across his lips, “I can still taste it on your lips.”

“I have, but I've made sure to save some for another night. I want to know what it tastes like on your tongue and on your skin.” Halsin rasped, “But tonight, I want to taste something sweeter.” You shuttered at his response, tightening your grip on his arms firmly as you felt his tongue swirl against yours, taking your breath from you with each passing second.

With his hands placed securely along your hips once more, the druid pulled you away from the tree he’d pressed you against, lips still heavy on yours as he led you to a pretty patch of grass by the waterside. You followed him blindly, trusting in him completely as your fingers began tugging at the ties on the front of his camp clothes. Halsin smiled against your lips, thoroughly pleased by your enthusiasm as he followed suit and slid his hands underneath your own shirt. His hands caressing and stroking your bare skin under your shirt caused you to shiver and a tingle to settle in your cheeks. Halsin’s touch was slow and gentle, allowing him to truly take the time to appreciate the feel of your supple skin against his hands.

Halsin pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it to the side before returning his hands to your body, focusing his attention on working pulling open the ties to your trousers. Despite the looming size of his hands, his fingers were fast and nimble as they loosened your laces just enough to allow your trousers to easily slide down your legs along with the remnants of your small clothes. Your boots were kicked off somewhere between Halsin pulling your trouser ties open and the same trousers colliding with the ground, although in the heat of the moment you couldn’t recall exactly when.

You, however, were not as skilled in freeing the druid from the confines of his camp clothes, unsure of what tie opened which flap and just where the seam of his trousers started. Halsin chuckled softly, finding the confidence you had carried all evening quickly leaving as you struggled with his clothing. Being merciful, and a bit impatient, Halsin stripped himself of his garments, tossing them along with yours off to the side, his sandals having long been flung in different directions.

Halsin took a step back from you, both hands still holding yours as he simply observed your naked form standing before him. You were breathtaking and beautiful, more than he could have possibly imagined in those long, lonely nights in his tent, and imagine he did. A warmth spread to you chest as he drank in your body, suddenly feeling shy by being bared in full to him. You took the time to observe him as well, more than impressed with the man that stood before you. Simply given the size of his arms, you knew he was muscular and well built, but it was different when actually seeing him in person.

With a gentle tug you were pulled towards him, your chest pressing against his as Halsin kissed you again. He groaned softly into your mouth, his eyes sliding closed as his hands roamed along your back and sides, lightly squeezing as he felt you beneath his fingertips. Your own hands traveled along his chest and arms, feeling the definition of muscles from years of fighting and roaming, but you could help but noticed just how warm his skin was. He always ran on the warmer side from what you could tell, but now he was almost hot to the touch.

He pushed away from you suddenly, arching forwards as an all too familiar heat rose in his chest. You took a step back, unsure of what was going through his mind as you watched Halsin grit his teeth, a light snarl and plea to Silvanus for guidance. It didn’t take long for you to figure out what was happening as you watched him fall to all fours, erupting in a familiar flash of golden light. The hulking frame of the elf was soon replaced with one of a cave bear, panting with heated breath and emitting rumbling growls. You knelt to the ground, knees touching the tender grass as your eyes remained fixed on the bear before you, your hand reaching out slowly to try to make contact. Your hand brushed against his wet nose, which was still blowing out warm breath with each pant.

“It’s all right,” you said softly, “you’re all right.” Your hand slowly moved to the snout of the bear, your fingers running through the coarse fur in an attempt to calm him down. It took some time, but soon enough the frantic breathing of the cave bear finally calmed and settled into a steady rhythm. Before long, the bear erupted into another flash of light, leaving Halsin before you once again.

“I-I’m sorry,” Halsin stammered, “the beast is difficult to control at times, especially if blood runs hot. I lose myself and it takes over. Forgive me, please, the urges are just too strong at times” Halsin remained low to the ground, leaning on one knee with his back still hunched. His palms were facing you and his hands had the slightest of trembles. His mind raced as he knelt before you, emotions swirling and settling in his chest, cursing himself for allowing all control to be lost in such an important moment.

“Halsin,” you said softly as you reached out again and placed a hand over his chest, “don’t ever apologize for that. It’s not a beast and neither are you.” His chest was unbelievably warm, but had cooled slightly, and his heart beat frantically against his chest. It was more than just arousal that caused the reaction in his body; it was fear. You glanced to his face and saw nothing but a mixture of panic and regret. Your heart ached at the sight, having never seen the strong man reduced to genuine fear in front of you.

“It’s in your nature. You of all people should know that.” You moved your hand from his chest and rested along his cheek, cupping it softly in your hand, “Don’t ever feel ashamed and don’t hold yourself back on my account.” His hands once again made purchase on your hips and pulled you closer to him, much lighter than before, as if he was afraid that touching you would change your mind.

“And, if I’m being honest,” you continued, “I quite like the bear.” You saw his eyebrows knit together slightly, head cocking to the side before he spoke again.

“The bear?” He said with a bit of hesitation, “You…like it?” You smiled with a slight chuckle. The back of your fingers softly caressed his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin against yours as you tried to soothe any worry that lingered in his mind.

“I do,” you said softly, “but I’ll indulge the bear another night. Tonight, let me indulge in you.”

Halsin’s lips were on you before you could barely get your words out, hungry and firm against your own. His hands cupped your face, pulling you as close as possible to him as he took your breath away. With his lips to yours and your words still echoing in his ears, Halsin relaxed, feeling safe to be himself around you. You accepted him the way he was, even with a seeming lack of control at times, and it was almost euphoric. The weight of shame and guilt having been lifted with your words and soft touch. It wasn’t long before one of his hands cradled the back of your head and the accompanying arm ran down the length of you back. He used this position to gently lower you onto the grass below, quickly topping you with his own frame.

The grass was soft against your bare skin, the blades tickling your back as you felt Halsin settle above you. The druid’s hips settled between your parted legs as the length of his body rested just above your own, lightly grazing when either of you moved. Your hands ran along the expanse of his bare chest and shoulders as his lips met yours, his large arms resting by your head. You felt Halsin’s fingers weave their way through your hair, softly scratching at your scalp as he took his time exploring your lips. It wasn’t long before he deepened the kiss, moaning against your lips as his tongue asked for them to part. You happily obliged, letting his tongue easily slip into your mouth and explore to his hearts content. One of his hands left the tangle of your hair, settling along your cheek and jaw. Halsin’s thumb tugged at your lower lip, keeping your lips parted ever so slightly for better access.

After some time, Halsin’s lips left your own and slowly moved towards your jaw, giving you the chance to catch your breath as he focused his tongue on other areas of your body. There was no rush or sense of urgency in his movements as Halsin kissed his way down the column of your throat, simply enjoying and relishing the moment he’d been waiting to share with you for so long now. Your skin was warm from the night air and the blush that had started to grace your skin, radiating against Halsin’s cheeks as he pressed soft kisses against you. He suckled gently against the tender skin of your pulse point, feeling the steady pounding of your heart beneath his lips until a light bruise had formed before moving to your collar bones.

You heard a gentle growl come from Halsin as he kissed your sternum and felt the soft placement of tongue tickling your skin before his lips followed suit. His movements were slow and gentle as he made his way lower, fully content with savoring every moment of you underneath him. He loved the subtle reactions your body gave when he kissed and licked a new spot, taking note of what you favored. The way your heartbeat quickened as his hands traveled lower along your body, how your fingernails would brush against his shoulders and lightly scratch as his own teeth would graze your skin, and the quiet sighs that would escape your parted lips when he found a particularly sensitive bit of skin; all of it a symphony to the druid that was slowly losing himself in you.

A shaky moan broke the quiet serenity of the forest when you felt Halsin latch on to your nipple, taking the hardened bud between his teeth and giving the lightest of bites before soothing it with another kiss. Your back arched off the softened patch of grass and lightly into the air as your head rolled to the side, more gasps and sighs spilling from your lips the more Halsin serviced your nipple. You felt his hand slowly slide from your ribcage to the arch of your back, pressing you closer to his own frame all while caressing your sweat slicked skin. It wasn’t long before he switched sides, your body tingling at the ministrations of his teeth and tongue against your sensitive skin. Your eyes closed as your hands explored what you could reach of his upper body, eventually coming to rest along the top of his head.

Your fingers brushed along the tips of his ears as you explored his body, which earned you a sharp bite to your now swollen nipple and a tightening grip along your waist. Your eyes reopened and looked down the expanse of your body, admiring the glistening of kiss marks in the moonlight against your skin. Halsin’s eyes were focused on your features, meeting your eyes with a lustfully clouded gaze. You bit your lip with a devious smile, realizing just how much the faintest touch against his ears had excited him. With a slightly firmer touch, you ran your fingers along his ears once again, letting your nails graze ever so slightly. Halsin responded to the touch with a low moan and giving an involuntary thrust against the ground.

The druid continued his descent downwards at a slightly faster pace, having been spurred on by the teasing to the tips of his ears. He continued to hold your gaze as he kissed down your body, feeling the rise and fall of your stomach as you inhaled deeply and released with each shaky breath. His hands grasped your hips, softly squeezing and caressing the soft flesh there as his mouth finally reached that lovely spot that rested at the apex of your thighs. Halsin planted gentle, loving kisses to the sensitive skin surrounding your entrance, teasing you ever so slightly as he took his time in exploring your most secret of places.

Your thighs instinctively wanted to close and press themselves against Halsin’s head as he teased and tasted you, wanting to keep him there as long as possible. Your hips rolled under his touch and your back arched further, desperate for his contact on your most sensitive spot. You felt him chuckle against your skin, causing a deliciously sensational warmth to begin to pool in your lower abdomen. His hands traveled from your hips to your outer thighs, caressing and grazing with his fingertips as his lips found the velvety soft skin of your inner thighs. After a few more kisses and even a light bite to the soft skin, Halsin’s hands gently pried your lightly trembling thighs from the sides of his skull, pulling them wide until they were kissed by the grass beneath your body. He kept them open by resting his heavy arms on your thighs, giving his hands the opportunity to focus on more important matters. Halsin teased your entrance with a finger and tongue, lingering for just a moment before finally granting you the satisfaction of slipping inside.

“Halsin…” His name slipped from your lips as nothing more than a whisper as you felt him taste you, the bulk of your breath having been taken away when he first teased your entrance. Your hands desperately searched for any part of your lover to cling to, but given just how high the arch had gotten in your back, you were struggling to make purchase. You settled for winding your fingers in the grass beside you, pulling and tugging at the tender blades until they ripped and you needed to find more.

Halsin glanced up to you, his mouth and tongue still working their magic on your body as he added a second finger, curling at just the right spot to make your body quiver in bliss. He smiled as best he could at your expression, considering that his lips were occupied. Although pride was not something the druid typically felt, it coursed through him as he watched your mouth open and close with soft gasps and the way your eyes knitted together tightly in time with each exhale. Watching you, the normally well put together leader of the group of misfits he’d so eagerly joined, melt into a puddle of whimpers and moans by his touch was enough to make his already painfully hardened cock throb and weep at your image.

Your back rose and fell with each roll of your hips against his teasing, surging with pleasure with each swipe of his tongue as you flitted closer and closer to the blissful edge of release. You felt teeth, tongue, lips, and fingers; anything and everything Halsin could use at his disposal to bring you to your first release of the evening. He held his hand along your abdomen, slowly sliding up towards your chest so he could feel as much you beneath him as possible. Halsin wanted to feel you writhe and squirm under his touch and wanted nothing more than to feel the shakes and convulsions your body would offer when you finally reached your orgasm. You quickly released your grip on the grass you’d ripped out by the root, replacing the handful of foliage with Halsin’s own hand. Fingers were soon intertwined and you held to him tightly, your knuckles turning white as the contact grounded you and allowed you to focus on the tightening coil deep in your belly. Each exhale turned into a breathy moan that only increased in volume as Halsin intensified his efforts, determined to swiftly bring you the release you desperately wanted with a flick of his tongue.

Your legs began to tremble under Halsin’s arms as he brought you closer to the edge, heat surging in your abdomen as your muscles along your thighs began to tighten. A sudden rush of warmth and indescribable satisfaction washed over your quaking body, jolts of pleasure fired through your muscles as you finally broke the barrier. The sensation made your mind cloud as you rode our your orgasm, still feeling Halsin’s tongue and lips tending to your sex. Your eyes closed as the final waves washed over your body, your breath coming in deep inhales as the feeling subsided much too quickly for your liking. The feeling was euphoric, but you wanted more.

Halsin kissed up along your body quickly, leaving your tingling lower half to bring his face to meet yours once again. Your mind still reeled from your orgasm as you felt his lips against your heaving body. Halsin kissed you gently on your cheek, brushing stray strands of hair from your face as you continued to come down from your peak. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as you tried to regulate your breathing once again. His skin was warm under your touch, the lightest layer of sweat forming along his back from the heat of the night air. Halsin kissed along your jaw until he pressed his lips against yours once again, tender and soft when compared to frantic movements just moments ago.

“More?” He asked after breaking from your lips, taking the time to wipe a bead of sweat from your brow as your eyes finally opened for him.

“More.” You said with a nod between pants, your body still trying to regain some sense of composure from the feeling you just experienced. Halsin’s mouth returned to your skin at your words, licking and sucking along your neck as he waited for you to settle once more. Your skin was pleasantly warm, a combination of the heat of the night and your exertion having caused the change in your body temperature. He adored the blush that had settled on the apples of your cheeks and poured onto your neck and along your chest, the sense of pride returning to him as he admired the state of your body all due to his touch. Halsin could still taste you on his lips as it mingled with the sweat from your neck, finding the taste to be almost intoxicating.

Halsin was still lazily planting wet kisses along your body, tasting as much of you as he could as he moved to your chest. When you felt strong enough to move again, your hands and fingers ran along his neck and shoulders, feeling the definition of the muscles that lay just beneath your fingers. Years of roaming nature had toughened his skin thanks to the touch of the sun, but in your exploration you had found a few spots still supple. You traced behind his ears and along the back of his neck, feeling his skin prickle and twitch under your touch and you found yourself wanting to feel more. Given that he was distracted, you took the opportunity to have the upper hand. You playfully shoved Halsin’s shoulder from you until you had the druid pressed onto his back in the grass with a surprised grunt, throwing your leg over his hips until you had him straddled.

“I believe you’re stronger than you let on, my friend.” Halsin said with a sly grin, impressed at the swiftness of your movements given your previous orgasm.

“I am when I need to be.” You said softly, adjusting your position in his lap as Halsin sat up just slightly, leaning back to place his weight along his forearms. He simply enjoyed watching you above him, seated ever so nicely in his lap as you took your time exploring with your fingers. Your chest was still heaving slightly from your orgasm just moments prior and the druid had his eyes glued to your form, drinking you in and memorizing every dip, curve, and blemish that adorned your body. With the soft light of the moon behind you, illuminating you in a glowing halo, he watched as a bead of sweat rolled from the side of your neck, lazily rolling over your collar ones and onto your chest before getting lost somewhere in the skin above your navel.

“The Oak Father truly broke the mold with you,” Halsin said softly as his eyes continued to wander across your naked body, “I’ve yet to see anything in nature that compares to your beauty.” If you weren’t already blushing, you were now. You leaned forward, kissing his lips as an appreciation for the compliment.

“Don’t sell yourself short.” You murmured against his lips, taking the time to kiss them once more before moving your way down his neck. Both of your hands rested on his shoulders, beginning to move along his chest as you kissed and nipped lightly down his throat, searching for more tender expanses of skin. You felt him shudder with each light graze of your teeth against his neck, a satisfied hum coming from you with each nibble. With a light touch, you ran your fingertips across the expanse of his chest, feeling every bit that you could reach while still slightly leaned over his frame.

You returned to your previous position, pressing yourself up from his chest while allowing yourself to marvel at the hulking elf beneath you as your fingers continued to roam, feeling and caressing with a gentle touch. You traced along the thick veins in his arms, feeling the firmness of the surrounding muscles of the biceps that could easily have their way with you. His heart beat steadily in his chest when your fingers grazed over his pectorals, enjoying the feeling of the thick hair that coated his chest. While your fingers enjoyed their exploration of his chest, making sure to graze over and toy with his hardened nipples as your eyes traveled further down his body. He hissed at the contact, but loved every moment of your teasing fingertips along his skin.

Your gaze followed the line of coarse hair that trailed between the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen and came to an end at the base of his cock, which was seated nicely between your thighs. You smiled to yourself as you watched his member twitch and bob under your touch when you ran over a particularly sensitive spot, resisting the urge to tickle those areas when you came across them. Your forefinger ran along a nonsensical path around his abs, simply keeping the hand occupied as the opposite finally reached his throbbing cock, which was steadily dripping his arousal in a long stream along his stomach. With a quick flick of your gaze to Halsin, you dipped the tip of your forefinger in the pool of his spend, rubbing small circles to coat the digit before you finally brought your coated appendage to your lips.

“Something sweeter, you said?” You asked with a feigned innocence as you held his gaze, finding the anticipation in his face quite amusing. You could feel his muscles tighten beneath you as he anticipated your next move, his eyes flicking between your half lidded eyes and your coated finger hovering mere centimeters from your lips.

You ran your tongue along your coated finger, engulfing the entire digit in your mouth once you had reached the tip and the first taste of Halsin’s arousal had touched your tongue. You took your finger to the knuckle, cleaning the appendage quickly. Halsin’s hips bucked upwards as he watched your finger slowly slip from your mouth, thrusting you forwards until your hand collided with his chest to keep you from falling flat against him.

Halsin’s shifted his weight to rest on one of his forearms, using his now free hand to grasp your jaw, pulling you into a heated kiss with a quiet growl. His tongue was in your mouth in an instant, tangling with yours in an attempt to feel as much of the mouth that had teased him all day. With your tongues dancing with one another, you slid your hand down his chest and stomach before ghosting your fingertips over the weeping head of his cock. Halsin released his mouth from yours to as his breath caught in his throat, his grip leaving your jaw as he fell back onto both arms.

You returned your lips to his body, planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses along his chest, steadily working your way lower as you followed the trail your fingers had previously taken. You could taste the sweat that had formed on his body as your lips traveled lower before you finally pulled away, admiring the trails you’d left along his skin. Your fingers had gone from simply teasing the sensitive head to stroking along the length of his cock in long, fluid movements. He pulsed in your grasp as you continued your stroking, squeezing in varying strength along his cock, stopping occasionally to rub small circles along his oversensitive cock head.

“That touch of yours will be the end of me one day.” Halsin whispered as his head tilted back against his shoulders, his eyes closing slowly as he allowed himself to enjoy your movements. You watched as his chest heaved with each stroke of your hand, his breath coming in and out through his nose as he tried to keep himself collected and under control. Halsin felt his muscles tense and his heart pound under your touch, his body finally indulging in your long sought after touch, and he wanted the feeling to last as long as possible.

“Is that a promise of more nights like this, then?” You asked with a curious look, wiggling your way off his hips, choosing to settle between Halsin’s thighs to give yourself a better position for what was to come.

“Many more, if that is what you wish as well.” Halsin managed to choke out between sighs and soft groans as you stroked your hand along the length of his throbbing cock at a steady pace. Each flick of your wrist became easier over time, the slick that had fallen from the weeping tip giving you plenty of lubrication to work with. With lust filled eyes you looked up towards the druid as you began to lower your head to meet your hand.

“Oak Father, preserve me.” Halsin’s low voice wavered as he spoke, a shudder wracking his body as the flat of your tongue ran along the underside of his cock. His eyes reopened and he lifted his head long enough to watch as you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip. Halsin finally dropped to his back, his arms giving way underneath him as your tongue swirled the cock throbbing in your mouth. Like you had done with his finger earlier in the day, you pressed the tip to the roof of your mouth, creating a firm pressure to the overly sensitive head.

Your tongue was softer than velvet against Halsin’s cock, swirling and suckling around the tip with enough pressure to make him squirm in pleasure. He moaned softly with each swipe of your tongue, his hips thrusting upwards ever so slightly to create more friction against your warm, wet mouth. With his tip still securely pressed to the top of your mouth, your tongue worked wonders on the underside of his member, focusing on the sensitive space on the underside of the tip. You suckled away on his cock while your hand continued to stroke lazily along his base. As he did with you, you took your time in exploring his cock with your mouth, listening to the delightful moans and sighs that came from above you.

Halsin let out an exasperated sigh when you finally released the suction from his cock, which allowed you to begin your teasingly slow descent. Your lips were pressed tightly around his cock, still creating a light suction as you worked your way down, although your pace wasn’t entirely due to just wanting to tease the man writhing at your touch. Given just how large of a man that Halsin was, you were under no illusions that his member would be anything less than large, but you truly weren’t prepared for just how impressive his size actually was. You took your time in an attempt to service his length in a way that was pleasurable to both you and Halsin.

You took him further into your mouth, his tip beginning to slip into the tightness of your throat as you focused on not choking along his length all while keeping a steady breath. Halsin’s fingers found their way into your hair, settling on the crown of your head as he felt you lower yourself to your limit, a light gag coming from your throat before you pulled back up. His simply rested his hand along your head as you began to bob along his cock, gradually picking up speed as you became more comfortable with your limits. He didn’t pressure you further than you wanted or tried to change your pacing, but simply needed something to grasp onto as he worked his way through waves of pleasure. He wanted you to enjoy yourself as much as he was, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel pressured to go beyond your limits. For this, you were thankful.

You soon found yourself in a rhythm, guiding your head up and down along the length of his hardened cock with ease, occasionally ending with an audible gag if you pushed yourself too far. For now, he was too large for you to comfortably handle, so you made use of your still slicked hand to stroke and toy with the portion of his shaft not covered by your mouth. From time to time you’d pull away, allowing yourself a few sucking breaths of air before your lips returned to him in some way either through licking any neglected areas or sliding it back into the heat of your mouth. His spend was salty against your tongue, yet something you swallowed eagerly.

Halsin’s breath hitched and the urge to buck wildly into your warm mouth was becoming too much to handle as he felt a tingling warmth begin to settle in his groin. His fingers grasped at your hair lightly, desperate to anchor to something more substantial as he fought the urge to spill into his own orgasm. However, he resisted, wanting to save that wonderful wave of pleasure for something more intimate than your teasing mouth. Your eyes met Halsin’s once again as you continued your ministrations to his weeping cock, your gaze tender yet blissfully hazy.

You felt his fingers untangle themselves from your hair, dragging along your cheek with a loving touch. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm as best you could, your mouth still fully occupied with pleasuring the cock that was dangerously close to spilling over. Halsin gripped your chin gently, pulling you up and off his pulsing member with a shaky breath. His eyes were drawn to the line of spittle that still connected your reddened lips to the tip of his length, gently wiping your lip with his thumb as your breath came out in pants. You struggled to catch your breath as he held you in his grasp.

“If you keep going like that,” Halsin said after he’d regained some of his composure, “this night will be over much sooner than either of us would wish.”

“We have all night, do we not?” You asked as your tongue flicked across your lips, collecting any remaining spittle that lingered.

“We do, but let us hope that the sun is slow to rise.” Halsin murmured quietly before closing the gap between your bodies. He took your lips with his once more, tender and sweet as he came forward, urging you onto your back for the second time before parting from you. Your body settled into a fresh patch of grass that was slick with the beginning touches of dew forming on the blades. You sighed happily into the night air, your body succumbing to the gentle touches of the druid. Halsin’s hands softly grabbed the underside of your thighs, giving them a light squeeze as he parted your legs for him.

Your heart fluttered as he crawled up the expanse of your body, his arms and hands surrounding you as he knees knocked your legs open a bit further. His kisses and touches had become light and feather soft, caressing your lips and body with a touch so gentle you almost couldn’t feel it. He was holding back as if touching you any more firmly would thoroughly break you. You had to admit that you understood his concern, given that the bulk of his frame was currently looming over you and he was a bit larger than you had anticipated.

“You don’t have to restrain yourself with me,” you said between kisses, “I’m sturdier than I look.” You brushed stray hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear and out of the way. You knew Halsin wanted something a bit more rugged. He was more than content with slow, languid kisses and soft touches, but you also knew that he had been pent up for quite some time between suppressing his own emotions for years and your own teasings as of late. You wanted him to enjoy himself just as much as you were.

Holding back his feelings was something Halsin wasn’t accustomed to doing on a day-to-day basis; he wore his heart on his sleeve and made his emotions clear. You, however, were the one exception. He had been attracted to you for quite some time before either of you had made it to your current situation, yet he was hesitant to come forward with those feelings. Decades of denying himself something more meaningful and vulnerable simply couldn’t take a priority over his duties, so now that he was presented with the opportunity, Halsin had hesitated. But now, you both were here in each others arms, fully exposed and having tasted the other in some fashion; now was not the time to restrain feelings.

“I have no doubt about that, believe me, but either way I promise to be gentle.” Halsin said with a slight chuckle, “At least for now.” Halsin wanted nothing more than to hold you down and have his way with you until you were a puddled mess, but he also knew when the time was right. Although you were more than ready to try and take him, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in his overeagerness. Instead, he opted to take things the more gentle route until he was sure you were up for something more vigorous.

He pressed his lips to yours once again in a lingering kiss, moaning softly against your mouth as he lined the tip of his cock up with your well slicked entrance. Your body shuddered at the feeling of his warm, throbbing tip pressing against your eagerly awaiting entrance, the feeling of him being so close made your muscles melt beneath him. As slowly and carefully as possible, Halsin eased his way into you, earning a sudden gasp from your kiss swollen lips. He moved his own lips to your ear, cradling the opposite side of your face as he guided himself deeper into you.

His lips were soft and tender on your temple, kissing lightly when you hissed or made a gasp that sounded more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Halsin took his time, guiding his movements in accordance to your body’s reactions than his own lusts. From time to time you’d press your palm against his hip or stomach, quietly asking him to wait until you could adjust. When you did so, Halsin listened, waiting until you were ready to continue as he peppered your cheek with more kisses and whispered praise or encouragement in your ear. You moved your hand from his hip when you were ready to continue, whimpering softly as he continued the slow movement into your heat.

When Halsin had fully seated himself inside you, he released groan from deep within his chest, savoring the feeling of you around his hardened cock. You were warm and tight, which was everything he had expected from you, but the actual feeling of you wrapped around him was euphoric. With everything you had done for him so far, you had once again exceeded his expectations. With this, he wanted to begin moving against you and feel you expand and contract around him, but he paused. Halsin remained still inside you, waiting for your approval before continuing. He knew you needed time to adjust and he would allow you to take as much time as you needed. In the meantime, he simply enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

Your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply, adjusting to the size of the length buried inside you. He was large, but not uncomfortable. Halsin was exceedingly gentle with you, not wanting to hurt you with his size, but you were ready for more. You met his haze once more before giving a gentle nod, urging him to continue.

“You have been more than worth the wait.” Halsin murmured in your ear as his hips began to move against you, taking your lips once more with his before you could respond. Your moaned against him, the feeling of his cock slowly slipping out of you before nuzzling back in made a light warmth settle on your cheeks and made your heart flutter with anticipation. You stayed like this for some time, your arms wrapped around each other while connected by your lower halves, taking everything slow and steady until your body had grown accustomed to the size of the cock nestled deep inside you.

However, it wasn’t long before you felt comfortable with his size. Your hips rolled against his, asking him to begin picking up the pace as any discomfort quickly subsided and was replaced with pleasure and ecstasy. Halsin eagerly complied, pulling his arms from you slightly so he could rest along his palms, his hips rolling against yours as he kept his thrusts light, but just slightly faster. Your hands ran down his chest like they had done earlier, feeling his muscles flex under your fingertips with his movements. Halsin was correct, he and this moment were more than worth every moment of teasing and waiting that you’d experienced. He was worth it.

Halsin sat back, resting his weight on splayed knees so he could watch you from above. His hands explored and grasped at the expanse of your thighs as he watched your body writhe and roll under his touch, desperate to meet his cock with a roll each time he sheathed himself fully into you. His eyes searched your body, unsure of which part of you to settle on for more than a few seconds. He wanted to take in every bit of you as he thrust his hips into your warmth. Your face and chest were covered in a deep blush and glistened with sweat against the glow of the moonlight, parts of you bounced each time his hips snapped to yours and became almost hypnotic if he started too long, but in the end he decided that the most delicious part of you to watch was simply just how well you took his throbbing cock. His eyes traveled to where you both were joined, mesmerized by how your entranced stretched with each thrust to accommodate his size, but so early accepted him back in each time he fully entered you. The view combined with the feeling of your heat squeezing around him was almost enough to send him into a frenzy.

Halsin gripped the underside of one of your thighs, lifting it from the ground until the back of your leg rested against his broad chest, opening you up more for him, but also allowing him a better view of his cock disappearing into your heat. His lips and tongue found the skin of your leg and left sloppy, wet kisses along the sweat soaked skin as his fingers pressed firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh. His other hand traveled to your lower half, feeling your muscles tighten in your abdomen as your released neared. He used his fingers to brush across your most sensitive spots, a playful smile gracing his lips as you responded deliciously to his touch.

Your body was on fire, aching and throbbing with heat as Halsin snapped his hips to yours with each thrust. The sound of wet skin smacking against skin and mingled with grunts and moans filled the quiet evening air, making any animal in the area scamper off quickly at the noise. Your cheeks burned with exertion and desire, a feeling that was equally matched in the fire that was ignited in your lower belly. You could feel the string of pleasure begin to coil, knowing it wouldn’t be long before it snapped once more. Your hands grasped and squeezed at your chest, fingers flicking across and occasionally pinching your hard and sensitive nipples, eliciting sharp moans into the air that sent shivers down the back of the druid.

“More,” you gasped out as you felt the coil deepen, “please.” Your voice was almost a whine, needy with desire and lust as Halsin continued his movements.

Halsin moved instantly at your words, pressing forward until his chest met yours, your leg still pressed against his chest as your knee now rested close to your face. He moved your other leg to rest on his other shoulder, his hands shaking at the feeling of you practically halved beneath him. His arms kept your legs from slipping off his sweaty shoulders as his hands came to rest by your head, one of them tangling in your hair with a firm grasp. His lips found your neck and offered a light bite to the soft flesh, making your mouth fall open at the contact. Halsin thrust into you more firmly, knees and toes digging into the grass beneath him as his pace increased.

Your own hands found purchase on his body, one resting on the side of his warmed cheek and the other tangling with the knot he kept tied at the back of his head. Your body trembled beneath his as your second orgasm starting coming to a peak, knowing it wouldn’t be long until it crashed over your body. Halsin’s eyes remained locked to yours, entranced by the look of pleasure that covered your lovely face. You panted against each other, breath mixing together and only adding to the heat of the moment.

“You’re almost there, my heart.” Halsin panted against you as his forehead rested along yours, “Let go. Let me feel you.” The new use of a pet name and his coaxing send sparks flying through your body, awakening some sort of arousal you’d have to explore more at a later time. For now, however, his words and movements were enough to send you over the edge, your body shaking with a delicious heat and pleasure as your legs trembled against his shoulders. Your orgasm rushed through your body, sending bolts of electricity along your spine as you rode it out. You tightened your hold against Halsin’s cock, which was still thrusting into your sensitive entrance. The sudden grip on him almost caused his to experience his own release, but the druid held firm and made the feeling subside. As much as he wanted to feel his own pleasure course through him, he wanted to take you one final time before indulging in his own pleasure. You moaned and whined, your body twitched and shook under the last remaining licks of your orgasm, your mind hazed with pleasure and exhaustion.

With a swift movement, Halsin removed your trembling legs from his shoulders, pulling them to the side as he flipped you to your stomach. While still in your daze, you felt his hands press against your chest and around one of your legs, easily lifting your still trembling body from the ground and a better position so you could lay comfortably on the ground before pressing you firmly into the grass beneath you. You were taken by surprise, your mind swimming with enough pleasure and haze that you hadn’t fully processed his movements until your cheek was met with a patch of grass, leaving your arms pinned between your own chest and the ground. Halsin’s hands gripped at your hips, swiftly tugging them upwards and towards him with an almost desperate pace.

You let out a moan at the sudden change of position, letting Halsin rearrange your limbs with ease as you still were reeling from your orgasm. Halsin parted your legs once again, settling nicely between them as he realigned himself with your still trembling entrance. He entered you more quickly than before, still taking note of not being too rough with you, making sure you were comfortable with how he was seated within you before he began his thrusting once again. You whimpered as he picked up the pace, your swollen sex still sensitive from your climax as it tingled and clenched around the druid’s impressive length.

Halsin's hand traveled the length of your back as he steadily and firmly snapped his hips to yours, knocking you forward just slightly with each thrust. Halsin admired the beauty of your body, even from a less than flattering angle. The way your hips curved into your waist, the small dips in your lower back that lead to a steep curve in your spine caused by his movements, and the taught muscles in your shoulders that were defined from battle all enticed him even more. Halsin had admittedly fallen for you based off your merit and kindness, but he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful inside and out, especially when splayed out underneath him.

Your skin was hot beneath his touch, both from exertion and the heat of the night, and your body glistened under the moonlight. He had longed to feel your skin in his grasp for some time now, the thought alone keeping him up many nights as he struggled to subdue his own feelings for the sake of duty. The thoughts that would plague his mind of the caress of your hands had only intensified with your recent teasings, making the feel of your skin slapping against his all the more pleasurable. As his hand caressed the skin of your hips and back, Halsin had enough sense to flick the pieces of grass and dirt that had stuck to your skin from your previous position, lovingly brushing you clean as his hips were mercilessly slamming into yours. You felt his hand grip your shoulder, desperate to hold you in place as he chased his release.

Your breath hitched as you felt Halsin’s hand firmly grab your shoulder, giving him better leverage to thrust into you from behind. The sudden change of pace from soft and loving to frantic and rough wasn’t quite what you were expecting over the course of the night, but it was a most welcome change. Up until now, Halsin was focused on your pleasure and release over his. He was attentive and loving, making sure your had expended yourself to your limits, even denying his own release when he felt the luscious feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

But this was different. It was still caring, given that Halsin wasn’t ramming into you with his full strength, but this was for him. He was finally allowing himself to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh that he had denied himself for so long. He was desperate to make it last, to have this night make up for years of denial and longing, but you could tell he was nearing his end. Your ears were greeted with a symphony of grunts and growls rumbling deep in his chest the harder he slammed into you. Although you were met with no discomfort, just a delicious feeling of being pressed into the ground by your lover.

Halsin’s grip on your shoulder was strong, simply given the size of the druid, but not quite enough to keep you from shifting underneath him. He released your shoulder, which was now slightly red from his hold, and slid his hand to your back once again, resting between your shoulder blades with his fingers splayed wide against your dampened skin. You let out a moan and a wheeze as you felt the air leave your lungs, leaving you with a deliciously pleasant sting as Halsin pressed into your back firmly, lifting himself slightly to apply as much pressure as he could without causing you harm. You were now securely pinned to the ground, allowing the druid to slam into you without the inconvenience of you slipping out beneath him.

You both let out a pleasurable moan at the new position, the angle allowing Halsin to slip fully into you and pound away at the wonderfully sensitive spot deep inside you that made your vision blur each time he made contact with the tip of his cock. Halsin was practically hovering over you, taking in every bit of your body as he barreled towards his own release. He watched the way his cock slipped in and out of you effortlessly, given his size, and the way your body graciously accepted him. Halsin could feel his legs begin to shake and the pacing of his hips begin to falter, stuttering every few thrusts as he came closer to his orgasm.

“Look at me, my heart.” His voice was gruff and shaky, but it was more of a plea than a command, one you happily complied with. Your haze was a bit foggy, but you looked over you shoulder as you remained pinned to the ground, your mouth hanging open in an attempt to breath as best you could with the pressure on your back. Your lips tugged into a slight smile as you peered up at the druid, the sight of him coming undone because of you brought you more joy than you could have previously thought. You met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, but there was more than just lust behind them and Halsin could see this as well. There was no doubt that your pupils were dilated with lust and pleasure from both your orgasms, but there was something more meaningful. There was trust, admiration, acceptance, and if Halsin’s own lust fogged mind could be trusted, perhaps even the faintest hint of love behind the beautifully bright eyes staring back at him.

Your gaze and the feeling of your warmth clenching around his cock was the final act that sent Halsin over the edge. An uncharacteristically loud curse left his lips as he hunched forward, digging his heels into the dirt as he thrust into you a final time. His hand lifted from your back and collided with the ground beside your head to keep from crushing you beneath his weight and it allowed you a sucking breath as Halsin spilled himself deep inside you. His opposing hand was still firmly gripped to your hips, holding them in place as his body shuddered with each contraction of his muscles. Each warm rope that spilled from his cock sent waves of pleasure down Halsin’s back, making his muscles twitch and tense with each burst. He released a low grunt every time he spilled, each one landing deep inside you, filling you with a gentle warmth.

Halsin fell to his forearms as he slowly fell from his peak, his head coming to rest softly against your shoulder as he panted against your skin. The druid finally released your hip from his grasp, the desperation and intensity behind his grip had finally softened as his body began to relax against yours, softly rubbing your sweat soaked skin to soothe the marks he’d left on your posterior. He littered your shoulder blades with a string of slow, loving kisses, placing a few to the back of your neck. You both lay there for a few precious moments, simply enjoying the feeling of being so close to the other while still connected, your minds slowly falling down from the blissful peaks you had climbed towards.

After giving a final kiss to the area between your shoulders, Halsin pulled himself from you gently, knowing you both were now a bit sore and rather sensitive. You whimpered softly as you felt him slip out of you, already missing the fullness he offered. With the bulk of his weight now off your frame, you finally managed to pull one of your arms out from underneath you, bracing it on the ground before hoisting yourself onto your hands and knees. Halsin went down to his side, pulling you with him with a quick roll as he settled for the evening. Your head rested along the expanse of his bicep, rolling to rest your cheek to his skin as you lay along your back, one knee coming up to bend and help you adjust.

“Are you all right?” Halsin asked as he brushed more bits of grass from your cheek with his free hand, plucking blades from your temples and your hairline.

“Very much so.” You hummed softly, your eyes becoming heavy as you melted against his touch.

Your skin had finally cooled after the activity from the night, leaving you with tacky skin, but free from beads of sweat. Despite the heat coming from Halsin’s body, you were pleasantly warm and thoroughly satisfied for the evening. You lay together, wrapped in each others embrace on the forest floor, listening to the lulling sounds of the night as you simply enjoyed the silence. Halsin’s free hand traveled along your body, gently caressing and mending any wounds that may have appeared during your rougher moments.

“Can I offer you a wash?” He asked after a moment, having run along your body several times. You looked to him, offering a gentle smile with tired eyes.

“That sounds lovely,” you murmured, leaning up to leave a slow kiss to his lips, “but let’s stay here for a spell. I’m not quite ready to return to camp just yet.”

Halsin tugged you closer to him, your bodies fully pressed to the other as the arm you were resting on had wrapped around your shoulders. You tossed your leg over his, tangling your legs together as one of your arms wrapped around his midsection. With the sun still below the horizon, you had a few hours of darkness left before returning to camp was a necessity, giving you a few precious moments together to simply be. You and Halsin spoke softly, whispering sweet words and blush worthy compliments to each other, caressing and touching and learning the details of the other. Eventually, the low rumbles of Halsin’s voice filled you with a sense of peace, causing your eye lids to droop and fall heavy. You fought the feeling, simply wanting to stay awake to enjoy the moment.

“Rest, my heart,” he whispered against your hair, “we’ll find more moments for each other.” He placed a single, gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away when your eyelids finally closed for the evening and your mind began drifting off to a moment of restful sleep.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear ,@beardedladyqueen, @pixie-in-a-moonlantern, @ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian, @ouranyaoi @galeofyourwaterdeep @mskinkyafro @jenn-majima @blobs-away @halsinsnaturepocket

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #daddy halsin #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #halsin fanfiction #halsin fanfic #halsin x gender neutral reader #halsin smut #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction

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dwaekkicidal · 3 months

Note

Hii 🫶🏻

First off: I have to tell you your Han series has me in a chokehold I CAN NOT get over it! 😍😍 it just hit all the right spots 😍😫

I don’t know if your request are open but if they are could I request with Han and female reader where Han is jealous/possessive of his girlfriend? Maybe because she is still in the same friend group with her ex or if you prefer give it any other motivation. It can be either swf or nswf, do as you prefer really (but if it is nswf could you make the reader to have a big breast and Han with a 🍒fixation maybe?)

Anyway I love you blog! Have a nice day! 🫶🏻😘

me when i get to self insert myself into a fic cause i have big boobies😼 ALSO TY ASDHJKASDJK i kept feeling really insecure about that series but its getting so much love :''))) im happy you are enjoying it as well as my blog <3

Cherries

˚ʚHan Jisung x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.8k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, reader has big boobs but no other physical features described, ex has they/them pronouns, kinda out of character ji?, exhibitionism, nipple play, brief mentions of p in v

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Han’s eyes were narrowed, so sharp that you could cut diamonds with it. He watched intently as you conversed casually with your friend group. It’s not something he thought he would ever see himself getting genuinely mad over, but the familiar face in the crowd made his blood boil. Had this exact situation taken place more than a year ago, Jisung would have been an anxious mess. Probably would be fiddling with his jacket’s sleeves and restlessly bouncing his leg while his mind went to the worst places possible. But now, after dating you for over 2 years, he was more confident in himself.

Don’t be fooled! He still gets jealous easily. Very easily… but it doesn’t make him as angsty as it used to. Nowadays all he feels is anger. The only thoughts that fill his mind are ones along the lines of “How dare that person talk to my girlfriend like that. Who do they think they are?” while strangers blatantly flirted with you, and he would make fun of them with words like “Did you see their face when you rejected them?? Fucking loser lol” when you would make a face and deny them before running back into his arms.

But those were with strangers. Not with your stupid ex. The same ex who made you hesitant going into this relationship with Han in the first place. And the same ex that managed to snake their way back into your friend group. While his thoughts were about the same, Han wasn’t very keen on taking his eyes off of them. The trust was still there with you, but he knew better than to trust your ex. The slimy, sugar-coated lies they told the group wouldn’t work on him.

A hand being placed on his shoulder cut him from his thoughts. He was in full fight mode and completely missed the way you walked up to where he was on the couch. The game room the group had rented out for a few hours was filled with their booming voices and a random playlist off of somebody's Spotify. Some people were playing pool while the others stood nearby to watch and instigate mini brawls here and there. He was the only one who idly sat on the couch, drink in hand.

You knew he was in guard dog mode because of your ex’s presence so you made sure to break your attention from the group regularly to check up on him. Only this time he accidentally ignored you, so you made your way towards him. “You okay, Ji?” You smiled sideways and tilted your head, stealing a sip from his soda and settling yourself between his legs. Immediately all the anger drained from his body and he smiled up at you. His hands wrapped around your waist and he sat up, pulling you closer as he nodded.

“Yeah... Sorry haha.” You smiled sweetly and placed his cup on the coffee table, wrapping your arms around his neck once the cup was safely set down. “It’s okay, I know the situation is a little uncomfortable.” You whisper and tighten your hold around him, squeezing him lovingly and giggling to yourself when he rests his cheek against your chest. He grins like an idiot at his personal pillow and shoves his face harder until you eventually get red in the face and push him back. “Hey now… We’re still in public.”

“That can change. Let’s go home right now and I’ll show you a good time?” He smirks and pulls you closer. His chin rests against the top of your chest and he looks up at you with puppy eyes and his signature pout. “C’monn… I’ve been good all day.” His hands drop down to your hips, digging his fingers into them as his voice drops an octave, “‘Promise to show you a good time. You know Hannie always takes care of his baby-”

Your name gets called and the both of you jump. You chuckle and turn in his grasp, now standing sideways to respond to the person. He let his eyes return to your group, simply curious about who you interrupted his begging but was made even angrier by the expression that painted your ex’s face. They were frowning deeply behind their drink and glaring at the two of you, obviously wired up about his hands that were wrapped around you. Han stared back with the same fire, knowing all too well what the other person wanted. But then he smiled to himself.

As you casually chatted with your friend, Han let his hand fall down to your waist. He did it at an angle that only showed it off to your ex, making them watch as his hand slipped under your shirt. The fabric bulged out as he grabbed a handful of your tits, kneading the flesh there as they held eye contact. Eye contact that was held as he leaned in, hiding his face from everybody else as he wrapped his lips around your clothed nipple. He made a show of even sticking his tongue out and licking your nipple over your shirt while his other hand continued to squeeze the other boob from, what seemed like, the inside of your bra

Han’s ego inflated to the size of the sun as he watched your ex’s jaw drop. Their eyes went up to your face and, besides the blush that covered it, there wasn’t a single reaction. You were so used to it that the obscene action didn’t even make you flinch. Which only pissed your ex off more. They huffed and shook their head, walking to the door and mumbling something along the lines of ‘Fuck this.’ While everybody’s attention turned to the first person to leave the function, you turned to your boyfriend and shook your head at him. “Really? All that about behaving too.”

“Not my fault their edgy ass didn't like it. I licked it so it’s mine.” You laughed and parted from your boyfriend, returning back to the pool table. After that, it didn’t take long for everybody to separate. The people who didn’t have the balls to be the first to leave shortly made their way out after your ex did. Your boyfriend was one of them as well and quickly made it obvious to you that he genuinely wanted to leave soon, so you both bid your farewells and made your way outside.

The second your food hit the concrete, Jisung dragged you to the nearest empty alleyway. One that, if the sun wasn’t already set, would have been very easy to look down and see the two of you. Alas, your boyfriend did not have a single care about that. If anything, the thought of somebody seeing you only egged him on.

Han shoves you into the brick wall, slamming his lips against yours and running his hands all over your body. They started at your thighs, where he squeezed the flesh of your thighs before sliding up to your hips and doing the same. Then his hands rested at your hips for a moment. He was too distracted pushing his tongue past your lips to continue on with his expedition. Once you both found a comfortable rhythm and your hands ran up his arms, he started moving again.

This time he slowly ghosted his hands up your stomach and stopped at your chest where he squeezed your boobs tightly. Then he pulls away from your lips, smirking at you and pecking your cheek before dipping his head down. You feel his lips against your neck and you moan quietly before rolling your neck to the side, giving him more space to work with. He doesn't linger there for long though. As much as your boyfriend loves marking you up, he only leaves a single one to your neck before he dips even lower.

He leaves a trail of kisses on his way to your boobs and, before you have the chance to react or push him away, his hands tug your shirt up to your neck. “Ji- Wait until we get home, baby. We shouldn’t do this he-” He cuts you off by nibbling your right nipple through your bra. His other hand slides under the bottom hem of your bra, grabbing a handful of your boob and rubbing that nipple between his middle knuckles. You moan loudly and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging it in hopes that he would pull away but also stop and just take you to do this at home.

He moans against your clothed nipple and licks it seductively through the fabric, looking up at you with those brown boba eyes. Despite his lack of words, you already know what those pretty eyes want. You bite your lip and nervously look towards the entrance of the alley, watching as cars dart back and forth. But no people. “F-Fuck. Fine. But make it quick!” He smiles widely against you and nods.

His head pulls away from you for a moment, only to allow him to reach around and undo your bra. He doesn’t even bother taking it off of you, he just pushes it up with your shirt and dives back in. “Mine.” A loud moan leaves your lips as he suddenly bites the side of your tit, then he apologetically licks over his teeth marks. “Yours.” He smiles and grabs both of your boobs, fondling them as he alternates his attention to each nipple.

“God. I fucking love your tits, Jagi. And they’re all mine, right?” You nod and throw your head back as you moan, gripping his strands even tighter than before. He moans and bucks his hips into the air. “Answer me.” One of his hands moves down to your thighs and slides up under your skirt. It dips deeper, rubbing your clit through the fabric of your panties before wrapping around behind you and grabbing a handful of your ass cheek. “Jagiya… Say. It. A-gain.” He lands a sloppy slap to your ass with each word, smiling into your boob when your legs clench together.

“‘M yours, Ji! Please, babyy~” He wastes no time after that, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to poke out. The hand that was on your ass pumps his dick a few times as his other pushes your leg up, holding it up and giving him space to fuck into you. His mouth finally releases your nipple in favor of poking his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he pushes in. Both of you moan at the feeling and lock eyes for a moment before he leans in and pushes his lips against yours.

He pulls away and leans down again, wrapping his lips around your neglected nipple. Then he tests the water with slow thrusts. Ones that speed up rather fast once he realizes how deep he can go in this position. The grip he has on your hips is bruising as he starts to slam his hips into yours.

“Mine. All fucking mine.”

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

#sian’s writing #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader smut #skz x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung x reader smut #han jisung imagines #han smut #han x reader #han x reader smut #han imagines

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adventures-in-mangaland · 5 months

Text

I'm going with 10 All Time Classics from the Captain America (MCU) fandom. I mean, they're all classics to me, at least. In no particular order:

1. This, You Protect by owlet

First installment in the Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail series, which are all amazing. It's a “Bucky escaping Hydra and rebuilding his sense of self” fic, which he does while spying on Steve. With eventual Avengers Family and a lovely cast of OCs bonding with Bucky in the meantime. It has a very distinctive perspective and writing style; Bucky's in constant internal (and sometimes accidentally external) dialogue with himself, making it hilarious and tragic all at the same time. I love it. I've recently been getting into The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells and this Bucky has a similar sassy-but-vulnerable vibe? Read this if you like that, anyway.

2. The One Who Knows by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

This is a Political Animals AU, in that no-powers Steve is inserted into the Political Animals world and Bucky is TJ. Discusses being outed and depression but is ultimately hopeful. The author is one of my all time faves and has written lots of great stories for this and many other fandoms.

3. Blue Scales by chaya

Steve is a merman AU. He's still Captain America, though. It's crack with heart, I love it.

Best line: "May your scales and your love story be our weird secret forever.”

4. Our Lingering Frost by eyres

AU where Bucky is rescued from Hydra in the 50s (?) and so is around for Steve to be found.

5. Assets Out of Containment by follow_the_sun

It's a classic to *me*, OK? Bucky goes undercover at Jurassic World just as that movie's plot kicks off. They're Hydra dinosaurs! It's just great. Also has a podfic and crossovers with Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

6. Not Easily Conquered (series) by dropdeaddream and WhatAreFears

Some of the greatest fanfiction I've ever read, the whole series is epic. Anyway, it's a "Steve doesn't go into the ice" AU with added queer angst when (never sent) love letters from Bucky resurface. I particularly like the second installment in the series The Thirteen Letters, which are just Bucky's letters and are insanely well-written.

7. to memory now I can't recall by Etharei

Time travel AU! Featuring post-CATWS Bucky accidentally switching places with CATFA era Bucky.

8. If Wishing Made It So by Leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

Genie!Bucky AU! This author is great at writing AUs with fantasy/genre elements, it was hard to choose. They've also written an excellent werewolf!Steve AU and a horse!Steve AU that I really love.

9. Into That Good Night by Nonymos

An Interstellar AU! Very angsty and tragic but with an eventual happy ending.

10. Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square by Speranza

Speranza must be one of the best writers in the fandom, so it was hard to pick just one of their fics. Other strong contenders were All the Angels and the Saints and The Fifties, so check those out too! But this one has a special place in my heart. Steve, Tony and Natasha accidentally time travel to WW2 London, leading to an accidental run-in with CATFA-era Bucky. The author does tragic and romantic time travel tropes so well, but with a happy ending.

I now realise that most of these are AUs, so here’s a bonus rec for a non-AU in-universe story that’s severely underrated and deserves more love:

Heart, Have No Pity on this House of Bone by Sena

This story follows Bucky in-action in the Pacific Theatre. It’s very well written and, from what I can tell, well researched. Steve only appears in Bucky’s imagination and the story focuses on the horrors of war rather than romance, but it’s gripping! And it explores unrequited love, being closeted and period-typical homophobia, which I also enjoyed. I’m still holding out hope for a sequel.

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 26 days

Text

Safe (M, cold)

Well, here I am.

It's been a few months since I've written anything in the Elliot's universe, but recently someone asked for a Mark-centric story, and this behemoth is what ensued. Allow me to preface by saying this: Mark is basically my self-insert. This was a very hard story to write. If it sucks, my apologies, hah.

In this, Mark gets sick from Matt and wants to hide it from Elijah. It is significantly more hurt/comfort-slash-sickfic than snzfic, honestly. It starts fairly benign, fluffy, and silly and gets really intense a few pages in. There's a lot of musing, a lot of being inside Mark's head. Idk. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. This is the first story I've written on here that has taken me a full week to get down, and that I've written and scrapped multiple scenes. It is very long. I really hope you enjoy it if you read it. I'd love to hear your thoughts, but also understand if it's just too long-winded for people to read. Also, there's a real chance of spelling/grammar errors because I just can't look at this monster of a fic any longer, ha.

Anyway. Onward.

CW: Male snz, illness, coughing, contagion. 6K words (almost exactly)

Safe

“Don’t go near them.”

It’s the first thing that hit his ears as he pushed through the swinging kitchen doors; no ‘hi, Mark,’ no, ‘good morning’, just a barked order with absolutely zero context thrown in. Mark whipped his head in the direction of the stern voice of his boss.

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered, making his way towards the office, where Elijah was stationed, seated, but not doing any computer work. “Who and what are we avoiding?” he asked as he entered.

“The chefs,” Elijah said, moving his chair to let the younger manager in to sit. Mark placed his backpack on the ground, tossed his coat over top of Greyson’s on the second office chair. Waited for further explanation that did not come.

“Okay…” he said, sitting beside his boss. “And we’re not going near them because…?” Mark hadn’t even seen Greyson or Matt yet this morning. The avoiding was being done for him, so what was Elijah’s deal?

Elijah hummed a low disapproval – of what, Mark couldn’t guess – and turned towards his computer. “You’ll see,” he said, shaking his mouse and pulling up an order guide. “Just don’t breathe your boyfriend’s breath, okay?”

Mark colored at the implication; it had only been a couple of months since Matt and Mark had been outed to the restaurant, and the floor manager still wasn’t used to their relationship being casually dropped into conversation. While Elijah busied himself with admin work, Mark stood – time to figure out what the fuck Elijah was on about.

You would think that finding chefs in a kitchen would be a relatively banal business; they’re chefs. They’re cooking. Hardly a moving target – but you’d be wrong. Somehow, the second a front of house manager starts looking for a chef, they become a ghost. They haven’t existed for a thousand years – are you sure this restaurant even has a chef? Mark couldn’t help but ponder how the fuck this hundred-square-foot kitchen somehow became a labyrinthian nightmare the second he wanted to find his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s boss; c’mon, he’d checked the walk-in, the back kitchen, even the dock to see if they were smoking, where the fuck were they?

Maybe Elijah had told the two of them to stay away from Mark and the front of house staff before the floor manager arrived, and they were playing a cat-and-mouse style keep-away game that Mark was unaware of. Or maybe they had gone to the store to pick up chicken or some shit. Either way, Mark was done looking. Elijah said don’t go near them, he thought to himself, heading back towards the front of the kitchen, easy enough.

Of course, it was the moment that Mark decided he was done looking that he quite literally bumped into his boyfriend coming through the kitchen doors.

“Oof,” Matt grunted as they collided. Greyson, not even a step behind him, turned their two-person bump into a three-car-pileup that nearly ended in hot coffee being spilled over all of them.

“Christ, Chef, watch where you’re going,” Matt muttered untangling himself from the middle of the pack.

“Mbe watch where I’mb going?” Greyson asked, wiping his coffee-covered hand on his chef’s pants. “The two of you are practically grinding on each other here and I ndeed to watch where I’mb going?”

Mark clocked it in the chef’s voice immediately – oh. That’s what Elijah meant.

But… he had said both of them… right?

Mark’s head shot up from checking to make sure he didn’t have coffee all over his button-down to look Matt directly in the face – ah. Fuck.

“Hh-! Hh’ITSHZH-ue! HRTSHH-ue!” Matt collapsed to the side to sneeze, seemingly in lieu of responding to Greyson’s dig. “Snf. Fuck off, Chef.” There it was.

“Bless you,” Mark said, attempting not to sound accusatory. Matt just nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

Before Mark could respond to the unnecessary apology, Elijah’s voice rang out once again from the office. “Mark, I told you to stay away from them!” The GM stood from his desk chair and strode into the kitchen, physically pushing Mark and Matt away from one another. “Six foot distance,” he said, pointing at both of them. “And you,” he said, addressing his counterpart, “didn’t I tell you to go get some tea and sit the fuck down? We have a big night tonight and I need you conscious, please.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and held up his cup. “I was on mby way to sit when the children starting gyrating on each other in the mbiddle of mby kithcen,” he said. “Don’t put this one on mbe.”

Elijah squeezed the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “First of all,” he said, moving towards Greyson and plucking the cup from his hand, “that isn’t tea.”

“The tea we buy is gross,” Greyson whined. “And I’mb ti – hh! Hh...hhuh-ETSHZH-ue! Snrf, fuck.” Greyson took a moment to collect himself, to wipe his nose on his sleeve and cough – a wet, concerning sound – before finishing his sentence. “I’mb tired,” he said, snatching the cup back.

“Which is why I told you to go sit down,” Elijah said, pressing his palms together and accentuating each word with his hands. “And please do not get my front of house manager sick. I beg, Greyson.”

“Talk to him,” Greyson said, thumbing towards Matt. “I’mb ndot the one with my tongue in Mark’s mbouth twenty-four-seven.”

Mark’s face flamed once again, but Matt, either too sick to care or beyond the embarrassment that was a public relationship in the work place, just rolled his eyes.

“Jealous, much?” Matt asked under his breath. Greyson shot daggers with a glance at his sous, and Mark decided it was probably time to step in.

“Listen, how about I go grab the two of you some medicine from down the street, you both take a rest, and then by the time the meds have kicked in, everyone should be good for service.” Mark looked to Elijah for his blessing; his boss was obviously mulling it over, considering. “And this way, I’ll be out of the metaphorical splash zone,” he finished, which finally prompted a nod from Elijah.

“Okay,” his boss said. “Good idea, Mark. You two – come with me.”

The GM led the two chefs back into the dining room to lay in the back booth while Mark let out a sigh. He was happy, of course, to be out of the fight, to have seemingly calmed everyone down, and to have put his boss’s mind at ease.

Unfortunately, he was fairly sure that – despite Elijah’s eased mind – it was already too late for keeping himself away from the newest restaurant pestilence.

***

“Elijah is going to kill me, Matt.”

“Oh, please, he is ndo – ITSZCHH-ue! ndot,” Matt said, swiping the bottle of Dayquil from Mark’s hand and chugging it. “You gonna sit?” he asked, sniffling and patting the milk crate beside him and shivering. Mark sighed.

“I’m not gonna sit, because Elijah is going to kill me even more if he sees me sitting right next to you.”

“I’mb gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s ndot possible,” Matt said, dissolving at the end of his sentence into a chesty cough.

“You’re coughing now, too?” Mark asked, worry about Elijah’s anger usurped very suddenly by concern for his boyfriend. Mark placed a hand to Matt’s head. “Oh, honey.”

“Sorry,” Matt said, not bothering to move Mark’s hand. Mark huffed out a little laugh.

“Don’t apologize for being sick. Please,” he said, moving his hand to cup Matt’s cheek. “Even if Elijah might kill us both.”

Matt smiled, pressed his face harder into Mark’s hand. “You might ndot get sick. You ndever know,” he muttered, eyes closing as Mark held his head up.

“Matt,” Mark laughed, “I mean… I don’t think that’s, uh, possible after last night.” Matt’s eyes blinked open at the mention of it, and a little smile flitted across his lips.

The apartment had been quiet.

“Matt?” Mark called as he stepped inside. “Babe, are you home?”

He strained his ears; the shower was on. Mark had an idea.

He tiptoed across the cold apartment floor, quietly stripping as he went; by the time he got to the bathroom door, he was nude as the day he was born. The bathroom door wasn’t closed all the way, so he pushed inside silently and pulled back the curtain.

A fact about Matt that shocked Mark more than anything was that the man did not get scared. He had yawned through their first haunted house together; he fell asleep during the Terrifier movies, for Christ’s sake. So Mark was unsurprised when, instead of screaming bloody murder the way he would’ve if Matt snuck up on his in the shower, his boyfriend simply turned away from the spray and smiled.

“You’re early,” he murmured, ushering Mark in.

“I came right from the gym,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around the shorter man. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mmmm,” Matt hummed, pressing himself into Mark’s arms. “That’s nice, baby.”

They stood that way for a few minutes, until Mark tipped Matt’s chin up towards his face. “I wanted to see you,” he said, pressing his lips onto Matt’s neck, “but I also wanted to… do things. With you.”

Matt’s breath caught in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” he asked, voice low. “Like what?”

Mark stood back to his full height, and pushed Matt against the shower wall. “Let me show you.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said now, lifting his head. “But, I mbean, are you feeling okay right ndow?”

He was, for the moment. But, Matt had seemed alright last night, and clearly he’d already been on the trajectory towards ill – despite that fact that he had been very good at hiding it. Whatever he and his boss had picked up was certainly quick to come on.

“I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me,” Mark said, rummaging through the drug store bag to hand Matt, who’d fallen into another paroxysm of coughing, the Robitussin. “I’m more worried about you than anything.”

Matt snapped the top off and chugged this medicine as well, seemingly without any concern about mixing two medications. “Babe, it’ll be fine. I kndow Elijah is worried about getting through the weekend, but it’s ndot like any of us haven’t worked with a cold before.” He shrugged then, handed Mark the medicine, and stood. Mark stood as well, and once again cupped Matt’s hot face – this time with both hands.

“Please just take it a little bit easy tonight, okay?” Mark said. “I know Greyson is sick, too, but don’t try to do too much. We don’t need another moment like a few months ago.”

“And to think I’d just forgotten about that,” Matt said, going on tiptoe to kiss his boyfriend. “I’ll be okay.” Mark kissed him back, a little longer than was maybe necessary; long enough that neither of them heard the back door open until it was too late.

“Mark, what the fuck are you doing?”

Oh, fuck.

Elijah.

***

By the end of the night, Greyson and Matt were shadows of their former selves.

“Hh-! Hhhuh… hhNGTSHH-ue! HRTSHH! ETSZCH-ue! Fuuuck mbe,” Greyson muttered as he wrenched into the sleeve of his hoodie – chef coats had been abandoned about an hour into service, when both he and Matt started shivering hard enough to fuck up the plating on more than half the dishes – for the millionth time that night. He attempted to clear his throat, prompting a flurry of congested coughs.

Behind him, Matt was sitting on the cold, industrial kitchen ground, head between his knees. “I’mb gonna pass out, I just kndow I am.”

“Don’t fuckigg pass out,” Greyson growled, pulling his sous to his feet. “You ndeed to get your blood mboving, you gotta stand up. Idiot.”

The two of them, bickering and sneezing in near-unison by the pass, had captivated the attention of both front of house managers, who had turned away from their computer work to watch the mess unfold.

“Hope you like what you see,” Elijah said, finally. “Because that’s gonna be you tomorrow.”

Behind his boss’s back, Mark rolled his eyes. “Boss, I’m fine. I don’t feel sick at all, trust me, I’m going to be okay.” It was mostly true; he’d sneezed a few more times today than was normal for him, yes. And he was a little tired – no more than usual, surely. The rawness in the back of his throat was easily ignored with huge gulps of water. He was fine.

“Mmm,” Elijah said, swinging his chair around to look the younger man in the eye, “sure. Whatever you say, Mark; just remember, if you look even close to how bad Matt does tonight, you’re off the floor. And I mean off the floor until you return to normal. A cold is one thing; whatever these two have is entirely another. Understood?”

Mark swallowed around his burgeoning sore throat; off the floor. Off the floor didn’t mean relegated to busywork behind the scenes; it meant sent home. Being sent home meant days without a backup manager to help Elijah on the floor, and no one to help on the floor meant Elijah would realize there was a gap in their team. A gap in management. Mark had been the only floor manager in all the years Elliot’s had been open; Elijah had mentioned a few times that maybe they should hire another person, someone to cover if both Mark and Elijah couldn’t come in, but Mark had been vehemently against it. Elijah couldn’t hire another manager, because if he did, he’d see how truly unqualified Mark had been for his position all this time. Once he saw how unqualified he was, he’d be out on his ass. No job, no money… no second family. No place he truly belonged.

Mark’s face flushed, and he cast his eyes towards the floor. “Yes, boss,” he said. “I understand.”

“Good,” Elijah said, nodding. “Now, go collect your boyfriend and take him to bed.”

***

The first time Mark was sick while working at Elliot’s was well over a year into his tenure.

Elijah had regarded Mark with concern, clocking him as unwell the second he sat in the office. “You don’t look well,” he said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Mark’s face had flushed, embarrassed; not getting sick for over a year working front of house was honestly a feat of accomplishment in the restaurant industry, but he still felt guilty for coming down with something, despite its inevitability. He shrugged, an attempt at playing it cool.

“I’mb okay, boss,” Mark croaked. “Just a cold.”

Elijah nodded slowly. “Are you sure it’s just a cold? You feel okay to work?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, confused. Did he look that unwell? “I mbean… yeah?” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Why?”

“Well,” Elijah said, opening a drawer and pulling out cold medicine, along with a small bag that looked like it could’ve come from his mother’s medicine cabinet. “A cold, we can work with.”

The GM explained to him, then, that there were marked differences between the front of house cold, and the back of house cold. “You’ve seen Greyson sick at work a dozen times,” Elijah said, passing Mark a cup full of pills and a water bottle. “Right?”

“Sure,” Mark said, swallowing the pills around a painfully sore throat. “It’s ndot like he’s hiding it.”

“Right. Right,” Elijah said, popping open a stick that looked like – was that concealer? “The chefs, the cooks – they don’t have to hide anything. Us, though? No one wants to be served soup by someone with a stuffy nose. We all get the same shit, but only they’re allowed to look like shit.” He dabbed the concealer under Mark’s eyes, used an expert finger to blend it into his skin. “That’s the industry for you.”

“Are you… putting makeup on mbe?” Mark asked, laughing a bit.

“Sure am,” Elijah said. “A little concealer goes a long way in this profession, Mark. Concealer, and enough meds to tranquilize an elephant.” His boss closed the little concealer pen, put the medicine and makeup away. “I want you on the floor, but I want you to look… alive.” Elijah shut the drawer, shrugged. “Let me know if you start feeling really shitty. Otherwise? Come to the back to blow your nose, and feel free to help yourself to whatever you want in here.”

Mark blinked, a little confused, but grateful for the advice. Elijah seemed… almost fatherly, like this, and he could feel embarrassing tears welling in his eyes at this, the smallest gesture of being cared for. Mark looked down, cleared his throat. “Uh… okay, boss. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Elijah said, patting Mark’s knee. “We’ve gotta take care of each other in this hell hole of an industry, y’know?”

Mark couldn’t look up. The thought of his boss seeing him cry was entirely too much for him to handle. “Right,” he whispered. “Right.”

***

The hardest part of hiding an illness, Mark knew from experience, was speaking.

Putting on makeup and looking like a human instead of a corpse? Easy. He’d learned how to apply concealer so it didn’t look like he was in drag – just enough that in the dim lighting of the restaurant you couldn’t tell if those were dark circles or shadows. He’d learned if you added a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, no one noticed that your nose was also red, and he’d figured out the hard way that there was never a world in which he needed eyeliner, even if it made his eyes look less bloodshot.

He always dressed immaculately when he wasn’t feeling well; extra-crisp button down, sport coat, his expensive Ray Ban glasses, not the cheapos from Zenni he usually donned. Mark shined his shoes the second he felt a tickle in his throat, broke out the cuff links if he suddenly sneezed more than thrice in a row. He’d been trained well by Elijah to hide the visual cues of any oncoming malady.

Hiding how he really felt came even more naturally; he’d been practicing that since childhood. Complaining wasn’t in his nature, or had maybe been stamped out entirely at some point – either way, Mark could be actively passing out, unable to breathe, coughing so hard he couldn’t form a sentence, and he wouldn’t even mention it. Of course, he’d been sent home from work for being ill before, but never once had he chosen to go. Even the thought of saying ‘I’m sick’ made him dizzy with unease. You need to work through that in therapy, Matt had said to him multiple times, and he knew it was true, but it was also helpful. In this industry, admitting defeat was akin to admitting you sucked at your job.

The voice, though? That was always what gave him away. No matter how much medicine he took, he could always hear the rasp that overtook his voice immediately. His m’s and n’s turned to rounded shadows of their former selves even if he blew his nose every five minutes. His timbre lowered considerably, to the point that when Matt first saw him sick he asked how it felt to be able to do a perfect Johnny Cash, but only when he felt like shit. It was a problem, but Mark was a pretty quiet guy in general. If he was quieter than usual, usually no one was the wiser.

That’s what he hoped – that his boss would be none the wiser – as he dressed in his perfectly-tailored suit that morning, stifling sneeze after painful sneeze into handfuls of tissue all the while. Just don’t talk, he thought as he dotted Maybeline under his eyes. No one has to know.

Of course, not talking was a bit… difficult when his boss was around. “Good morning,” Elijah called to Mark as he buzzed through the kitchen, trying to make his way into the dining room without having to make small talk. Dammit. Mark stopped, begrudgingly, and nodded at his boss, who raised both eyebrows at the younger manager’s outfit choice. “Is there an event tonight I’ve forgotten?”

Mark shook his head, straightened his tie. “Just felt like dressing up,” he said, tactfully avoiding words with too many nasal letters. “How’re you, boss?”

“I’m well,” Elijah said, pointedly. He patted the empty chair next to him, prompting Mark to sit; don’t let him get a good look at you, a voice in Mark’s head chastised. Don’t get taken off the floor. “Greyson’s not coming in till three, if you want to do your preshift report in here today.”

“That’s okay,” Mark said. “I like the dining roomb.” Fuck.

Elijah cocked his head to the side, but didn’t mention Mark’s voice. “How’s Matt feeling?” he asked, another pointed question.

“He’s okay – a little better. Said he’d be here at four.” Mark patted himself on the back for maneuvering around any pesky m’s or n’s that time. Elijah nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it,” Elijah said, standing. The younger manager was several inches taller than his boss, but Elijah was still able to look him fairly closely in the eye. Once again, one word rattled around in Mark’s head: fuck. “How are you feeling?”

Mark allowed a smile to form on his rapidly-chapping lips. “Good, boss. Ready to work,” he said simply. God, he needed to clear his throat. And more than that, he really, really needed to blow his nose.

Elijah nodded. “Alright,” he said, apparently placated. “Go ahead, then.”

“Thanks, boss,” Mark said, stepping out of the office doorway and pushing through the swinging kitchen doors before Elijah could say anything else. He’d made it through the first test, somehow. Just in time, too, he thought, making a beeline towards the bathroom. Because I really fucking need to -

“NTSHH!” Mark stifled a near-silent sneeze into his wrist as he yanked open the guest bathroom door. Finally, locked in the bathroom alone, he allowed himself to be as disgusting, as sick as he really was.

“Hhuh -! Hh- ETZSCH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Huh… hh’RRSHH-ue!” Mark collapsed in on himself, scrambling to collect a handful of tissues so he wouldn’t ruin the sleeve of his suit. He blew his nose as thoroughly as he could – not that it made any difference, he was still stuffed up to the gills. A pathetic little cough escaped his lungs, prompting another tickle in his sinuses. “HUHTTSCHH-ue!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chastised himself, blowing his nose again. He’s going to fucking hear you.

He waited a moment or two to see if Elijah would push through the door – he didn’t – before sitting fully clothed on the toilet and pulling out his phone.

11:56AM

Mark

what is this, the fucking plague?

Almost immediately, Matt texted back.

11:57AM Matt

o shit, did we get you already? baby im so sorry. u shouldve told me u weren’t feeling good last night u couldve stayed over

11:57AM Mark

not your fault. and I’m ok, just trying to avoid Elijah, he’s gonna be so pissed.

11:59AM

Matt

omfg he’ll get over it. its not like someone in that restaurant isnt sick every other week

Mark sighed, his lungs crackling at the effort. Matt was right; someone was almost always sick at Elliot’s, that was the way of things in this industry. They all shared drinks, they worked in close quarters, it was bound to happen. This was less about the illness itself – of course he’d been sick at work before, who hadn’t? - and more about the look he knew he’d see on Elijah’s face when he’d finally have to crack. He’d gone directly against his boss’s orders, had put his job and the restaurant second to his baser desires. That’s no way to get ahead in this world, his dad’s voice bellowed from the base of his brain. Mark shuddered; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face Elijah’s look of pure disappointment. He wasn’t sure he had it in him.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Mark stood and washed his hands. He took an inventory of his face in the mirror – eye bags poorly covered by drugstore makeup, his nose raw and red, his mouth slightly open to allow him to breathe – and realized how truly awful he looked. Was there even a chance that Elijah didn’t know he was sick? Doubtful, his dad’s voice muttered.

You have to just try, another voice in his head pleaded. Just push through, you know how to push through. You’ve done it a million times before. He doesn’t have to know.

That voice, Mark knew, was delusional – a child’s gnawing plea to be accepted, to not get in trouble, to not be thought of as a burden – but he knew that sometimes you had to be delusional, had to listen to the saddest, smallest part of yourself to get through a day. He pulled his phone back out before leaving the bathroom.

12:04PM

Mark

just please don’t say anything to Elijah when you get here, ok? I’m fine, I promise. its honestly probably just in my head, it’s probably nothing so just don’t say anything. see u soon.

Pathetic, his dad’s voice spat, and Mark knew the voice was right. But that was nothing new, nothing to dwell on; he’d always been pathetic. Mark switched off his phone then, not wanting to be comforted by his boyfriend, and stepped onto the floor.

***

“Mark,” Matt said, reaching up to touch the front of house manager’s forehead, “you really need to go.”

Mark pulled away before Matt could touch him, though not by choice. “HRRSHH-uhh! Hh-! HhNTZSHH-ue! Snrrf. Leave mbe alone.”

Matt’s hand recoiled at the ice in his boyfriend’s voice, obviously hurt. Normally, Mark would’ve nearly fallen to his knees at the thought of hurting Matt’s feelings, but today, with the cold from hell progressing quicker than he ever could’ve anticipated, he couldn’t even find it in himself to apologize. Obviously he needed to go, but that would mean admitting to illness; it would mean begin taken off the floor until god-knows-when. It would mean Elijah replacing him.

No. He wasn’t about to go.

“Honey,” Matt said carefully, touching Mark’s hand across the expo board, “I’mb sure Elijah would understand. It’s a slow ndight, he already sent Greyson back home. What are you trying to prove?”

Of course, Matt was right; last night’s crazy shift was in stark contrast to this evening’s steady pace. There were hardly twenty more covers for the evening, and yes, even Greyson had admitted defeat and slunk out right at six p.m., in a fevered haze. The only reason Matt was still here was because his fever had broken this morning and, despite the lingering cough and stuffy nose, he was clearly feeling better. Good enough, even, to have gone behind Mark’s back and talked to Elijah.

“Matt told me,” Elijah had cornered him right before preshift started, in the back server station while everyone else ate family meal. Mark felt his stomach sink. Fucking Matt, he thought, clearing his throat to address his boss in the most normal voice he could muster.

“Told you what?” he asked, straightening his tie. Elijah gave the younger manager a knowing look.

“You don’t look like you feel well, Mark,” he said, obviously trying a different tactic. This time, Mark’s stomach knotted; he felt, for a moment, like a little kid, wanting to fall to the ground in front of his mommy and just allow himself to be comforted. He thought for a fleeting moment of how good it would feel to just admit it; I’m sick, he would say, if he were a normal fucking person, I want to go to bed.

Instead, Mark shook his head. “I don’t kndow what Matt told you, but he doesn’t kndow what he talking about,” he managed, his voice cutting out only once. “I’mb fine.”

Elijah sighed. “Mark, listen, I know I was an asshole yesterday -”

“Boss,” Mark cut Elijah off. “Please. I’mb okay. Just please, let mbe work.”

He’d walked away then, hadn’t let Elijah say whatever it was he wanted to say, and had avoided Matt as well as he could throughout service. Now, mid-shift, when all the cooks and servers were side-eyeing them from he expo board, was not the time to hash this out.

“I’mb ndot trying to prove anything, Matt,” Mark said now, grabbing two plates from the window. “Just stay out of mby business. What table?”

Matt bit his cheek, peaked at the chit. “Please don’t be mbad,” he said, voice quiet. Mark prickled; he couldn’t help it. He was mad. He’d asked one stupid thing of Matt, and now here he was, career in trouble, embarrassed in front of both of their staffs, and once again gearing up for another painful -

“HTTSHH-ue! God, fugck,” Mark swore, ducking expertly away from the plates he was holding. He sucked in through his nose hard enough to make himself dizzy, and looked back at Matt. “What table, Chef?” he asked, pointedly. Matt winced.

“Thirty-three,” he said finally. Mark nodded.

“Great. Thangks.” He turned on his heels and pushed out the kitchen doors.

***

Before it happened, Mark found himself thinking exactly what his boyfriend was moaning the night previous: I’m gonna pass out, I know I am.

The only difference was, Mark was correct.

He’d been feeling shittier and shittier as the night went on. It began with spells of dizziness that came anytime he moved his head too fast, then moved on to an ache in his chest every time he coughed. A cold is one thing, he remembered Elijah saying the night previous. Whatever they have is entirely something else.

Elijah the prophet.

He kept pushing through. Plate after plate came out of the kitchen on his aching arms; he shook drinks while coughing into his shoulder, and sniffled his way through seating guests. Mark could feel Elijah’s eyes on him, though his boss refused to speak to him throughout the shift. I’ll show him, his fever-addled mind kept saying. I can do this. I’m fine.

It wasn’t until the last table had sat that his body well and truly told him he’d had enough. Mark was seeing stars when he grabbed a filet and swordfish, and once again he ignored it. He ignored the room swimming before him as he pushed out of the kitchen. He ignored the sway in his step.

“Shit, Mark!” was the last thing he heard, standing in the middle of the dining room with hot plates in each of his hands. There was no way to tell who said it – Elijah? Matt? – but it didn’t really matter, because before he could respond, his vision became a tiny pinkprick, his knees buckled, and the lights went out.

***

When the world came back into focus, he had somehow teleported into his bed.

At first, Mark tried desperately to get up; he’d fallen in the middle of the restaurant, that he unfortunately remembered immediately. There had been people around, guests watching, and he immediately felt his face flame with embarrassment. Oh, Elijah is going to kill me.

That was when he realized he was no longer in the restaurant. Mark placed a hand over an aching eye; was it all a dream? He looked down – no, it couldn’t be. He was still in his tailored suit, the tie and ciff links missing, but otherwise dressed to the nines.

“Whoa there, kid,” a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Go ahead and lie back down.”

Mark blearily glanced towards the voice. There, just outside his bedroom, stood Elijah, a steaming cup in one hand and a thermometer in the other. Fuck.

“Shit, Elijah, I’mb so sorry I ca – HTSHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Fuck, ’scuse mbe,” Mark, any facade of health finally washed away, used his expensive suit jacket to wipe his nose. Elijah glided across the small room and sat on the foot of the bed, handing the younger man the cup. Tea.

“Save your breath,” Elijah said. “You already apologized about a hundred times at the restaurant.”

He had? Mark gave Elijah a confused look, and sat back on the pillows behind him. He hadn’t even realized he’d come to at the restaurant at all.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah said, nodding. “To me. To Matt. To the guests. To the EMTs. I would think you’d be apologized out.”

EMTs? Mark cringed; as if he hadn’t been embarrassed enough. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he figured it was probably better that he didn’t remember. Small mercies, he thought.

“Lij,” Mark croaked, taking a sip of the tea, “I really amb… sorry. I mbean, I can’t imagine how mbuch I embarrassed you. Thangk you for bringing mbe home… I understand if you can’t…let mbe, uh. Work there. Anymore.”

Mark, destroyed by fever, and aches, and what was probably some sort of bronchitis-sinus-infection super-fucking-hybrid, couldn’t help but let the angry, ashamed tears fall as he said it. Matt wasn’t here, which most likely meant he was out both a boyfriend and a job. You fucking idiot. You stupid, fucking idiot, how dumb could you -

Elijah broke through the screaming in his head – he took Mark’s arms in his hands, placed his cup on the side table, and pulled him in for a hug. “Mark,” his boss said, “you really had us worried.” He pulled the younger manager back, concern painted on his face. “Of course you aren’t fired, I don’t know why you’d think that of me,” he said, a moment so raw that Mark felt like he’d been sucker-punched. “You should’ve just told me you were so sick. So you could go and rest. I would’ve even let Matt go with you.” Elijah patted his knee then, and handed Mark back the mug. “It’s just a restaurant, Mark. You’re more important than service.”

Mark felt his eyes well up once again. Had anyone ever told him he was worth more than the work he did? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure, and that felt like an even harder gut-punch.

“I just…” he managed, wiping beneath his eyes. “I just didn’t wandt you to replace mbe. I’mb sorry for letting Mbatt get mbe sick.”

At this, Elijah actually laughed. “Mark,” he said, “you’re young. You’re in love; it comes with the territory. I was annoyed because Greyson and Matt are constantly getting everyone in that restaurant sick. I wasn’t trying to attack you.” He smiled then, a small and slightly sad smile. “I’m sorry if that’s how to came off.”

Mark didn’t know what to say; he felt awful, like he’d been hit by a semi, and he just wanted to sleep. See Matt. Apologize for being a dick. And sleep.

“Is Mbatt mad at mbe?” he croaked, pulling his legs into his chest. This time, Elijah actually laughed.

“I don’t think Matt knows how to be mad at you,” he said. “He’s just closing up the line; he was actually the one who brought you back here, but you were racked out so I said I’d come keep an eye on you till he got back.” Elijah shrugged, gave a little knowing smile. “He’ll be back soon. Okay? We don’t have to talk any more about this now. Just… try to sleep.” He patted Mark’s shoulder; a fatherly gesture from a man who claimed to know nothing about being a parent. “I’ll call Matt.”

Finally, finally, Mark conceded. He wanted to thank Elijah, or maybe apologize again, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words. Instead, he just nodded, grateful, and sank back into his pillow. He felt his eyes close, and allowed himself, for once, to let someone else take care of him.

He knew, maybe for the first time in his life, that he was safe.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #snzblr #coldfic #male cold #male snz #whump #whump writing #hurt/comfort #this is such a long fic and does it even make sense??? idk #the beginning and the end are so drastically different it feels insane to even post #but whatever. i've spent like thirty hours on it at this point so it's getting posted #i need to write something fun and silly after this hahaha #if you take the time to read this you're a saint

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writingonleaves · 6 months

Text

understated, overwhelming (life is always best when you're around) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x self insert gender neutral reader

warnings: swearing, fluff, nothing much else!

title: "float" by HARBOUR

word count: 3.6k

author's note: hi hi hi!! tried something out of my comfort zone with a self insert reader. also tried my absolute best with a gender neutral reader but if i made a glaring mistake somewhere, please call me out! this is my entry for @callsign-denmark 's Luck of The Puck Fic Exchange written for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten !! andi, i'm so sorry this is a bit late but hope you enjoy this little piece as much as i enjoyed writing it (:

~*~*~

You consider yourself a pretty nice person.

You try to do your day job well, even if your supervisor drives you nuts from time to time. You call your mom every week, even if she thinks it should be more. You always help your elderly neighbor with their groceries if you happen to be outside at the same time. You foster dogs, mainly because your family has been doing it since you were young.

But right now, as music is booming through the walls that is most definitely not the music you have softly playing on your speaker, you’re not feeling very nice. It had been a tiring day at work and all you want to do is snuggle up in your bed with a book. Whatever rap music is playing through the walls from your neighbor isn’t helping.

You’re debating about whether you should say something. Firstly, you’re 90% sure it’s coming from the apartment across from you whose inhabitant you actually have seen the least. It’s not like you’re stalking your neighbors, but after living here for over two years now, you’re familiar with the faces. The only thing you know about the person who lives in 1708 is that there are two of them and that they look related. But that’s not even a sure fact.

All you know is right now, they’re getting on your last nerve.

You scratch behind Boba’s ears, the Jack Russell Terrier you’re currently fostering, and pat his head before you decide that you have to go say something. You gain some courage before opening your front door.

Turns out, you don’t even have to knock on your neighbors’ door. More accurately, it’s already open as a guy around your age, maybe a bit younger, says goodbye to the guy you’re almost positive lives there. Both the guys’ eyes slide to you and you fight the urge to shrink.

“Hi,” the guy with his hand on the doorknob says, not unkindly. “Can I help you?”

You blink, “Hi. Listen, I really don’t want to be a bitch, but could you turn your music down? It’s a weeknight and I have to work in the morning.”

To his credit, his eyes widen apologetically. “Shit, yeah, of course. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so loud. We’re about to wrap up anyways.” You wave him off as he sticks his hand out. “I don’t know if we’ve met. I’m Jack.”

You offer your name with a tight-lipped smile before shifting your eyes towards the other guy, floppy hair almost covering the amused glint in his eyes. He’s been leaning against the wall this whole time and he’s really fucking cute. “And you are?”

“Nico,” he nods with a shake of your hand. “I’m also sorry about the noise on behalf of Jack, even though I don’t live here.”

“It’s fine,” you hear Boba’s paws trotting on the hardwood floor and you stick your foot out to prevent him from running out. “Well, it’s nice to meet you both.”

Jack’s eyes trail down to Boba, who's looking at the two new voices with curious eyes. “And who’s this?”

You hold in a sigh, picking up Boba in your arms so he doesn’t start running down the hallway. “This is Boba. You can pet him if you’d like. He loves people.” Jack needs no further invitation and reaches to scratch behind his ears. Nico is a bit more hesitant, but the grin threatening to spill out of his lips has you softening.

After more pets, Jack apologizes again and you bid them goodnight, ushering Boba back inside and turning off your lights. You hear no music, thank goodness, as you climb into bed.

A few weeks later you’re waiting for the elevator after a walk with Gretchen, a golden retriever who drives you nuts, when Nico runs in just as it closes. You don’t expect him to remember you, but he does, saying your name softly paired with a nod.

He gestures towards Gretchen, who’s nipping about at your feet. “That’s not Boba, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” you say. “This is Gretchen. Boba got adopted last week.” He opens his mouth but you beat him to it. “I foster dogs. None of them are mine. Just, you know, giving them a home when they need it before they find their permanent home.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

You shrug, because it’s not that big of a deal. To you, at least. “My family did it growing up, still does. So it’s a part of me now, I guess.” You switch the topic. “What are you up to on this sunny Saturday?”

“I, uh, working, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you do?”

Nico clears his throat and now you’re intrigued. “I play hockey. Professionally. That’s how I know Jack, actually. And his roommate, who’s also his brother. We’re all teammates.”

You squint a bit, eyes scanning over Nico’s face before nodding slowly. “That somehow makes sense. That would explain the weird hours.”

“You keep track of Jack’s in and outs?”

“Considering I didn’t even know his name until the night we all met, no,” you snort as you both step into the elevator. “I just hear their door open and close at weird times. So, working today?"

“Yeah. We have a game tonight.”

“Gotcha.” You press the button for ‘17,’ not expecting Nico to lean over and press ‘21’ himself.

He must see your confusion. “I also live in this building,” he explains.

You blink. “How long?”

“A little over a year now, but as you figured out, it’s weird hours.”

A beautiful man like him has been living in the same building as you for that long and you haven’t ever run into him?

You nod, watching the handsome man bend down and coo at Gretchen, who licks his hand, that traitor. You did notice the first time you met him that he was really cute, but you were also really tired and cranky because of the noise. But here in the daylight, with a black beanie tossed over his hair and kindness in his eyes?

You need to get out of this elevator fast before you say something stupid.

Luckily, the pinging sound lets you know you’ve arrived on your floor. You give the leash a gentle hug before trying to give Nico a genuine smile. “Good luck at your game tonight.”

You rush out before there's even a chance for him to reply, Gretchen trotting along happily beside you.

*****

Something that sounds an awful lot like a smoke alarm going off greets you as you’re walking down the hallway to your place after work. It’s coming from Jack’s apartment, causing you to snort. You decide to knock on the door to make sure everything is alright.

It’s not Jack or his brother you have yet to meet yet who opens the door, but Nico. Over his shoulder, you see someone who looks a lot like Jack fanning a pillow. You do hear Jack cursing and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused. “You don’t live here.”

“Ouch.” He teases back. “That’s no way to treat a neighbor.”

“I think it’s quite nice of me to check up on my neighbor when I hear their smoke alarm going off, actually,” you shoot back. The playfulness in your voice surprises even you, but there’s something about the brown-haired man that makes you immediately comfortable. You feel like you’ve known him for years, even though you really don’t know anything about him. And you don’t count the things you had found when you searched “jack nico new jersey hockey” after you ran into Nico in the elevator.

(Finding out that you live across from one of the seemingly most skilled players in the NHL and that you also met the captain, another highly-skilled player, was a moment that had your head spinning. You had to shut down your laptop and play with Boba afterwards to get yourself togetherr)

The alarm stops beeping and Jack’s head pokes up behind Nico’s shoulder. “Hi neighbor!”

You can’t help but laugh at his boyishness. “Hey Jack.”

“Everything alright?”

“I think I should be asking you that question. I’m just coming back from work and I heard the alarm.”

Jack grimaced, casting a look back into his apartment. “Yeah, I don’t think dinner will be salvageable but that’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” the guy you presume is Jack’s brother grumbles.

Jack whacks him across the stomach. “Shut up. This is Luke, my younger brother.”

You nod with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Luke.” An idea pops in your mind. “I was gonna try a new lasagna recipe today. Do you three wanna come over in a bit?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Nico assures.

But you wave him away. “I never proportion my shit right anyways, so you’d actually all be doing me a favor. It shouldn’t take too long either.”

“Nico’s right,” Jack says. “That’s a really nice offer, but-”

“I won’t set off the smoke alarm,” you sing playfully. That seems to do it, as they laugh. They still seem hesitant, so you compromise. “How about this? Got any vegetable dishes up your sleeve?”

Jack brightens up. “I was gonna make a greek salad as a side before we almost burnt down the apartment.”

You beam. “Perfect. You guys can go make that while I get started on the lasagna.”

Before you can turn on your heel, Nico pipes up. “I can help you with the lasagna, if you want?” He casts a look at Jack and Luke. “I don’t wanna be around in case they somehow mess up the salad.”

The brothers start protesting as you laugh, slightly nervous at the prospect of spending some decent alone time with Nico. “Sure. It’ll probably go a bit faster with a set of extra hands.”

With that, Jack and Luke head back to their place while you fiddle with the key to yours, feeling Nico’s presence behind you. You push open the door and kick off your shoes as he does the same. He surveys your apartment as you hang up your coat. You pat yourself on the back for actually cleaning it yesterday rather than flopping in bed like you had initially wanted to.

As you start gathering ingredients, you let Nico explore, his eyes darting around your living space. You wonder what he thinks about the pictures you have on your wall of your family and friends, half expecting him to ask about them. But he keeps quiet as you turn on the stove, meandering over and waiting for instructions.

He’s a good sous chef, all things considered. Not that lasagna is particularly a hard recipe, but there’s something quite intimate about cooking with someone you barely know. Though, as you’re cooking, you tell Nico about your job, your background, how you didn’t necessarily think you’d end up in Jersey but that you’re happy to be here anyways. In turn, he tells you about his family, Switzerland and hockey, though you can tell he purposefully glazes over the latter. Judging from the basic research you’ve done — and whatever praises your hockey-loving cousin drawled on about over the phone yesterday — you immediately conclude that Nico is humble, always turning the conversation back to you.

It’s quite lovely, even if unexpected. The lasagna is almost done by the time Jack and Luke knock on your door.

For a few brief moments, you panic, wondering why you thought this was a good idea. What do you have in common with three pro-hockey players? But that panic quickly dissipates, Luke seeing the tiny Ohio State magnet on your fridge (your uncle’s, not yours) and immediately lightheartedly trash talking you as Jack and Nico take over setting up the table and plates.

You close your front door that night with three new numbers in your phone and an unofficial promise from you to catch a game in person sometime.

*****

You love Gretchen, you really do, but damn, she’s a lot of work.

You’re lucky that your job has flexible hours, because Gretchen’s barking would probably drive your neighbors insane if she was left alone in your apartment all day. She’s starting to drive you insane.

Somehow, she was well behaved at the outdoor market you went to today, so you give her a few treats to nibble on as you go back downstairs to grab everything else. As you’re shutting the door of your car, a bag slips out of your grasp and everything spills out, causing you to groan.

“You alright there?”

You look up from where you’re bending down to grab your things to see Nico briskly walking over from his car, an amused look on his face. You chuckle a bit. “Yeah. This bag decided just to crap out on me. Luckily, there’s nothing really breakable in there.”

He picks up some bath bombs and a loofah in minor confusion. The furrow in his eyebrows is kinda adorable. “What’s this for?”

“One of my coworkers is about to get married so all of us pitched in to get some spa products. I volunteered to put it together to make a gift basket of sorts.”

He hums, swinging the now-filled bag over his shoulder and walking alongside you as you head into the building. “That’s really nice of you. And a good idea for a gift too.”

“Yeah. To be fair, the spa stuff wasn’t necessarily my idea. I just had time to buy them today and I have a knack for making pretty baskets.”

“I should take some notes,” Nico says. “I have a couple friends back in Switzerland getting married soon and need to get them gifts.”

“You wanna come up and help me put it together?”

Nico visibility hesitates as you two wait for the elevator. “I don’t want to intrude in your plans.”

“I have no plans,” you deadpan. “It’s a Sunday. I’m surprised I even got myself to go to the market today.”

He laughs. “Well, in that case…” he presses the button for your floor, but not his. “Any dogs you got in your home right now?”

“Still Gretchen,” you say. “She’s being extra bitchy today though, so sorry in advance for all the barking.” You guys walk into your apartment, and Gretchen barks once before perching her head, begging for pets. Nico gives them to her and she curls up against him. You snort. “Oh, I see how it is, Gretch. You see a cute boy and suddenly you’re well behaved?”

Nico looks up from where he’s crouched to pet Gretchen. “You think I’m cute?” Oh. Shit. You just glare at him as he smirks, nodding at your bags. “What else are you putting in the basket?”

“A bunch of soaps, a really fluffy bathrobe one of our other coworkers found on Amazon, some candles, these facemasks I ordered from Korea…all the good stuff.”

He watches as you take out the empty basket, some wrapping paper, and a few colorful ribbons. You honestly don’t consider yourself very crafty, but after doing a few gift boxes like this in your life, this is something that you pride yourself in doing decently well.

“Can you reach into the drawer across from the sink and hand me the scissors, please?” You ask. Nico abides, sliding the scissors across the counter.

“I think the same, by the way.”

You blink, measuring out the length of the ribbons correctly. “Hm?”

“I think you’re cute too.”

It takes all your control to cut the ribbon carefully before looking up at him. You see him swallow, confident with a hint of hesitation. You look down and try to steady your hands. “Well, depending on how good you are at cutting wrapping paper, I might have to keep you around.”

“Helping you out with dinner that night wasn’t enough?”

“The real test is seeing if you know how to wrap gifts.”

“I don’t.”

You can’t help but snort. “Figures.”

“So, what?” You look up to see Nico giving you a look that makes your stomach flip. He tilts his head to the side, trying to find something in your face. You’re not sure what. “You’re gonna kick me out?”

One side of your lips quirk up as Gretchen barks. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

*****

You and Nico become fast friends. To be honest, it’s not like you see each other all the time, with your normal work schedule and his abnormal one. But more often than not, when Nico asks if you’re around, you usually are. It starts with more homecooked dinners, which turns into trying new restaurants because it’s more reasonable to go with someone else so you can order more at a time, which turns into you seeing some new event happening or shop opening up and thumbing over to your text thread with him asking him if he wants to join. Nine times out of ten, unless he’s on a road trip, he’s free.

Sometimes Jack and Luke join. Most times they don’t. You’re not offended. Jack and Luke are a bit younger and have their own friends. They remind you of your younger cousins.

The thing is, you just enjoy Nico’s company. You learn about his goals, his insecurities, the things that bring him joy. He’s kind, considerate and so incredibly interesting. You feel so comfortable around him, whether you’re yapping away about childhood stories or in silence walking around the streets of Newark.

When you finally take up your neighbors’ offer to go to a Devils game after many nagging texts for the Hughes brothers, Nico knocks on your door within minutes, unexpectedly pulling you into a tight hug. You’re taken aback, but his dimpled smile is worth it.

You take one of your closest friends and have a wonderful time. You’re not much of a hockey fan, but your friend is, happy to talk you through icings and delayed penalties and offsides. Your eyes track 43 and 86 as your friend raves about the “Hughes skating.” But most of the time, you’re eyeing the one with the 13 and the C, who takes a deep breath before every face off.

For your first game, it’s a fun one, a nail biter that ends in a 4-2 win against the Minnesota Wild. You shoot Jack, Luke and Nico all a text congratulating them on a good game.

It’s when you’re in bed that night do you really thumb through their replies, Nico’s simple heart emoji making you fall asleep with a smile.

*****

Besides being a nice person, you also consider yourself to have a decent memory.

Until there’s a knock on your door that has you confused. You put down your tea, petting Moose, the dalmatian you’ve been looking after recently, as you walk to the door.

Nico looks so cozy, a black Kith sweatshirt with a beanie over his hair. He blinks at you. You blink back.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused even if a bit confused. “What’s up? Did we have plans tonight?”

“No, well, not pre-planned.” Nico bends down to pet Moose, who he met yesterday when you guys went to a new coffee shop. “You busy?”

“And what if I was?”

“You’d cancel for me anyways,” he teases.

And the thing is, he’s right. You sigh playfully. “Fine. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed.”

Nico grabs the leash off the hook. “Moose is coming too.”

“Oh?”

He flicks his hand. “Go get dressed.”

“Bossy,” you comment, before walking to your bedroom.

It turns out your plans are a newly opened dog park that you’ve heard about but haven’t gotten the chance to check out. Moose is immediately excited, and your heart does something funny when you see Nico calm him down so he doesn’t run anyone over. Nico told you he hadn't grown up with dogs, but you wouldn’t know with how gentle he is with every dog you’ve fostered during your friendship thus far.

After playing with Moose for a bit, he collapses on the grass, allowing you and Nico to sit and also relax.

“You look happy.”

You turn to Nico with a smile. “I am.”

“Good. All I want is for you to be happy.”

You swallow and take a deep breath. “Nico.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you whisper. You swear the space between you both has decreased.

“Because what?”

You huff. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes fondly, staring down at the grass for a few seconds before looking into his eyes again. “You can’t say things like that because then you’ll make me believe that I have a chance to be with you. To be more than friends.”

“And why is that so hard to believe?”

What?

“What?” You ask.

“Is it such a hard thing to believe?” Nico asks gently. His cologne is filling your senses now and you’re so overwhelmed. “The chance to be with you would be an honor.”

“Nico.”

“What?”

“You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckles, “I’m not.” He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek and you kinda wanna die. “So, what do you say? Wanna give it a shot?”

“Are you sure?”

“Never been sure of anything more in my life.” His confidence is back and it makes you wanna kiss him silly.

You take his hand and squeeze it in yours. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. Let’s give it a shot. On one condition though.”

“Anything.”

“You’re helping me with all these dogs. I still don’t know how you got Gretchen to like you. She barely liked me.”

Nico laughs loudly. It makes you grin. “What can I say? I must be special.”

You bite your lip. Yeah. He really is.

You watch as Moose suddenly has energy again and trots between you two, licking Nico’s face. He scrunches his nose in delight and you feel like the sun is suddenly shining brighter.

#k writes #luck of the puck fic exchange #nico hischier #devils #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nhl #nhl blurb #nico hischier blurb #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier x you #hockey writing #nhl writing #hockey blurb

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nyxshadowhawk · 4 months

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A Retrospective on Harry Potter

Why did I like it in the first place? What about it worked? Where do I go from here?

I have decided to give up Harry Potter.

J.K. Rowling’s reputation now stinks to high heaven. At this point, she is quite indefensible. And even if that weren’t the case, she is not someone that I would want to associate with anyway. Meanwhile, the internet has not only turned against her, but against Harry Potter itself. An innocent question on Reddit, about which Hogwarts Houses the ATLA characters would be in, got downvoted to oblivion. Innumerable Tumblr threads insist that fantasy fans should get into literally anything else (suggestions include Discworld, Earthsea, The Wheel of Time, and Percy Jackson). And now that Harry Potter is no longer a sacred cow, there has been a recent slew of video essays that rip it to shreds, attacking it for its poor worldbuilding, unoriginality, and the problematic ideas baked into the original books (like the whole SPEW thing), etc. Those criticisms always existed, but now they’re getting thrown into the limelight.

It pains me to see such an ignoble downfall of Harry Potter’s reputation. If Rowling had just kept her damn mouth shut, Harry Potter would have aged gracefully, becoming a beloved children’s classic. I'd still plan to introduce it to my own kids one day (after Rowling dies and the dust settles). It’s not surprising that not all aspects of it have aged well, since it’s been more than twenty years since its original publishing date, and everything starts to show its age after that long. I acknowledge that most of the criticisms of the series that I’ve seen lately are valid, and I’ve read plenty of better books. And yet, when I return to the books themselves, even with the knowledge of who JKR really is inside my head, I still really enjoy reading them! There’s still a lot about them that I think works!

None of the other things I’ve read have had as collossal of an impact upon my identity, my values, and my own writing as Harry Potter. It’s hard to move on from it, not just because it’s something I enjoy, but because I have to literally extract my identity from it. I don’t know who I’d be without Harry Potter. I don’t know what my work would look like without Harry Potter. I don’t know how to carry it with me as just another piece of media that I like, as opposed to a filter for who I am as a person. So, with all that in mind, I have to ask myself why I liked Harry Potter so much in the first place. If I’m going to move on from it, then I have to be able to define and isolate the things about it that I want to keep with me. Something about it obviously worked, on a massive scale. So what was it?

It’s not the worldbuilding. The worldbuilding is objectively quite terrible, especially in comparison to that of other fantasy writers who knew what they were doing. At best, it’s inconsistent and poorly thought-out, and at worst it’s insensitive or even racist. Is it the characters? The characters are, in my opinion, one of the stronger parts of the story. But I felt very called-out by one of the many online commentators, who said that anyone who identifies with Harry is too cowardly to write self-insert fic. (I do not remember who said it or even which site it was on, but I distinctly remember the phrase, “Reject Harry Potter, embrace Y/N.”) The reason why people get so invested in Harry Potter’s characters is because they’re easy to project upon, and it’s possible that my love of Harry comes more from over a decade’s worth of projection than anything else. The incessant arguments over characters like Snape, Dumbledore, and James Potter ultimately stem from the fact that these characters do not always come across the way Rowling wanted them to. As for the writing itself, it’s decent, but not spectacular. Harry Potter is something of a sandbox world, with less substance than it appears to have and a crapton of missed opportunities, making it ripe for fanfic. For more than ten years, I’ve been doing precisely that — using Harry Potter as a jumping-off point to fill in the gaps and develop my own ideas, some of which became my original projects.

So what does Harry Potter actually have that sets it apart? Why are people so desperate to be part of Harry Potter’s world if the worldbuilding is bad? What, specifically, is so compelling about it? I think that there’s one answer, one thing that is at the center of Potter-mania, and that has been the underlying drive of my love of it for the past decade and a half: the vibe.

Harry Potter’s vibe is immaculate.

You know what I mean, right? It’s not actually a product of any specific trope, but rather a series of aesthetic elements: The wizarding school in a grand castle, with its pointed windows and torches and suits of armor, ghosts and talking portraits and moving staircases, its Great Hall with floating candles and a ceiling that looks like the night sky, its hundreds of magically-concealed secret doorways. Dumbledore’s Office, behind the gryphon statue, with armillary spheres in every single shot. Deliberate archaisms that evoke the Middle Ages without going as far as a Ren Faire: characters wearing heavy robes, writing with quills and ink on parchment instead of paper, drinking from goblets, decorating with tapestries. Owls, cats, toads. Cauldrons simmering in a dungeon laboratory. Shelves piled with dusty tomes, scrolls, glass vials, crystal balls, hourglasses. Magical candy shaped like insects and amphibians. A library with a restricted section. A forbidden forest full of unicorns and werewolves. That is the Vibe.

There are five armillary spheres just in this shot. They are unequivocally the most Wizard of tabletop decor.

There’s more to it than just the aesthetic, though. The vibe is present in something that writers call soft worldbuilding.

There’s a phrase that writers use to describe magic systems, coined by Brandon Sanderson: hard magic and soft magic. Sanderson’s first law of magic is, “An author’s ability to solve problems with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.” A hard magic system has clearly-defined rules — you know where magic comes from, how it works and under which conditions, how the characters can use it, and what its limitations are. Examples of really good hard magic systems include Avatar: The Last Airbender and Fullmetal Alchemist. If the audience doesn’t understand the conditions under which magic can work, then using magic to get out of any kind of scrape risks feeling like the writer pulled something out of their ass. It begs the question, “Well, if they could do that, then why didn’t they do that before?”

You may come away from that thinking that having clearly-defined rules is always better worldbuilding than not having them, but this isn’t the case. Soft magic isn’t fully explained to the audience, but that doesn’t matter, because it isn’t trying to solve problems — its purpose is to be evocative. Soft magic enhances the atmosphere of a world by creating a sense of wonder. If your everyman protagonist is constantly running into cool magical shit that they don’t understand, then the world feels like it teems with magic, magic that is greater and more powerful than they know, leaving lots of secrets to uncover. Harry Potter, at least in the early books, excels at this. The soft magic in Harry Potter is what got me hooked, and I think it’s what a lot of other people liked about it, too.

The essence of soft magic is best summed up by this scene in the fourth film, in which Harry enters the Weasleys’ tiny tent at the Quidditch World Cup, only to find that it’s much bigger on the inside. His reaction is to smile and say, “I love magic.”

That’s it. That’s the essence of it. You don’t need to know the exact spell that makes the tent bigger on the inside. You don’t need to know how Dumbledore can make the food appear on the table with a flick of a wand, or how he can make a bunch of poofy sleeping bags appear with another flick. You don’t need to know how and why the portraits or wizard cards move. You don’t need to know how wizards can appear and disappear on a whim, or what the Deluminator is, or where the Sword of Gryffindor came from. You don’t need to know how the Room of Requirement works. Knowing these things defeats the purpose. It kills the vibe, that vibe being that there is a large and wondrous magical world around you that will always have more to discover.

One of the best “soft magic” moments in the books comes early in Philosopher’s Stone, when Harry is trying to navigate Hogwarts for the first time:

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk. —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 8

Many of these details don’t come back later in the series, which is a shame, because this one paragraph is super evocative! It establishes Hogwarts as an inherently magical place, in which the very architecture doesn’t conform to normal rules. Hogwarts seems like it would be exciting to explore (assuming you weren’t late for class), and it gets even better when you learn about all the secret rooms and passages. The games capitalized on this by building all the secret rooms behind bookcases, mirrors, illusory walls, etc. into the game world, and rewarding you for finding them. The utter fascination that produces is hard to overstate.

Another one of the most evocative moments in the first book is when Harry sees Diagon Alley for the first time, after passing through the magically sealed brick wall (the mechanics of which, again, are never explained). This is your first proper glimpse at the wizarding world and what it has to offer:

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad....” A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.... —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 5

What works so well here is the magical weirdness of wizardishness juxtaposed against normalcy. Eeylops Owl Emporium is just a pet shop to wizards. A woman makes a very mundane complaint about the price of goods, but the goods happen to be dragon liver. Broomsticks are treated like cars. All of these small moments contribute to the feeling of the wizarding world being alive, inhabited, and also magical. It gets you to ask the question of what your life would be like if you were a wizard. What do wizards wear? What do they eat? What do they haggle over and complain about? What do they do for fun?

In Book 3, Harry enjoys Diagon Alley for a few weeks when he suddenly has free time, and we get to experience the wizarding world in a state of “normalcy,” when he isn’t trying to save the world. He gets free ice creams from Florean Fortescue, gazes longingly at the Firebolt, and engages with delightfully weird people. He’s a wizard, living a (briefly) normal wizard life among other wizards in wizard-land. And that is fun. It’s so fun, that people want that experience for themselves, enough for there to be several theme parks and other immersive experiences dedicated to recreating the world of Harry Potter.

One of the greatest things about Universal was its phenomenal attention to detail. You can hear Moaning Myrtle’s voice in the women’s bathroom, and only the women’s bathroom. The walls of the Three Broomsticks have shadows of a broom sweeping by itself and an owl flying projected against the wall, so convincingly that you’ll do a double take when you see it. Knockturn Alley is down a little secret tunnel off of the main street, and that’s where you have to go to buy Dark Arts-themed stuff. It’s really well done.

Another thing that contributes to the vibe, in my opinion, is that the wizarding world is slightly macabre. They eat candy shaped like frogs, flies, mice, and so forth, and they have gross-tasting jellybeans. In the film’s version of the Diagon Alley sequence above, there’s a random shot of a pet bat available for purchase. In the third film, when Harry is practicing the Patronus Charm with Lupin, the candles are shaped like human spines. In the first book, this is Petunia’s description of Lily’s behavior after she became a witch:

Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school, and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! —Philosopher’s Stone, Chapter 4

I remember reading this for the first time, and it just kind of made intuitive sense to me. I suppose it fits into the “eye of newt and toe of frog” association between magical people and gross things, but somehow it works. Unfortunately, this is retconned later with the knowledge that wizards can’t use magic outside school, but before that limitation gets imposed, the idea of Lily amusing herself by turning teacups into rats seems like an inherently witchy thing to do.

That association between magic and the macabre shows up elsewhere, as well. In The Owl House, Luz’s interest in gross things is one of the things that marks her as a “weirdo” in the real world. When she goes to the magical world of the Boiling Isles, weird and gross stuff is absolutely everywhere. That world’s vibe leans more towards the macabre than the whimsical, but it works because you sort of expect the gross stuff to exist alongside the concept of witches, and that they would be an intrinsic part of the world they inhabit. You don’t question it, because it’s part of the vibe.

(The Owl House is one of the few things I’ve encountered that has a similar vibe to Harry Potter, but it’s still not the same vibe. In fact, The Owl House outright mocks the expectation that magical worlds be whimsical, and directly mocks Harry Potter more than once. The overall vibe is much closer to Gravity Falls.)

The Harry Potter films utilize a lot of similar soft worldbuilding with the background details, especially in the early films that were still brightly-colored and whimsical. For example, the scene in Flourish and Blotts in the second film has impossibly-stacked piles of books and old-timey looking signs describing their subjects, which include things like “Celestial Studies” and “Unicorns.” When Harry arrives in the Burrow in the same film, one of the first things he sees is dishes washing themselves and knitting needles working by themselves, taking completely mundane things and instantly establishing them as magical. In that Patronus scene with Harry and Lupin, the spine-candles and a bunch of random orbs (and the obligatory giant armillary sphere) float around in the background. One small detail that I personally appreciate is the designs on the walls above the teacher’s table in the Great Hall, which are from an alchemical manuscript called the Ripley Scroll:

It’s all these little things that add up to produce The Vibe.

Obviously, much of the vibe is expressed very well in John Williams’ score for the first three Harry Potter films. The mystical minor key of the main theme, the tinkly glockenspiel, the strings, the rising and falling notes that mimic the fluttering of an owl, the flight of a broomstick, or the waving of a wand. That initial shot of the castle across the lake as the orchestra swells, as the children arrive at their wizarding school:

If you grew up with Harry Potter, just looking at this image gives you The Vibe. The nostalgia hit is definitely part of it, but The Vibe was already there, back when you were a child and you didn’t have nostalgia yet.

In my opinion, only Williams’ score captures this vibe — the later films, though their scores are very good, do not. But the soundtrack of the first two video games, by Jeremy Soule (the same person who did Skyrim) absolutely nails it. This, right here, is Harry Potter’s vibe, condensed and distilled:

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This is why I feel invalidated by the common advice “just read another book.” I have read other books. I’ve read plenty of other books, many of which are wonderfully written and have left an impact on me. But there’s still only one Harry Potter. To date, there’s only other book that has filled me with a similarly intense longing for a fictional place, and that is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. That book deliberately prioritized atmosphere over everything else in the story, and actually lampshades this in-universe. The Night Circus has a plot and it has characters, but it’s not about its plot or characters. It’s about the setting and its atmosphere. It swallows you up and transports you to a fictional place that is so evocative and so magical that you just have to be part of it or you’ll die. And even then, The Night Circus has a different kind of vibe from Harry Potter. In this particular capacity, there’s nothing else like Harry Potter.

The thing is, I don’t think Rowling was being as deliberate as Erin Morgenstern. (In fact, given many of Rowling’s recent statements, I question how many of her creative choices were deliberated at all.) She was throwing random magical stuff into the background without thinking too hard about it, which works when you’re writing a kids’ story, but stops working when you try to age it up. Actually, scratch that — soft worldbuilding is definitely not just for kids! The Lord of the Rings has a soft magic system, for crying out loud, and Tolkien is the original archmage of worldbuilding. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you that prioritizing atmosphere over meticulousness is bad worldbuilding. That is a valid way to worldbuild! Not everything needs to be clearly explained, not everything needs to make sense. The problem is that Harry Potter doesn’t balance it well. Certain things do have to be explained in order for the magic to play an active role in the story (and the setting of a magic school lends itself to that kind of explanation), but no rules are ever established for the kinds of magic that need rules. When you begin thinking about the rules, you’re no longer just enjoying the magic for what it is. At worst, you begin running up against the Willing Suspension of Disbelief.

It wasn’t actually the “aging up” of the story that did it in, per se, but rather, the introduction of realism. The early books were heavily stylized, and the later books were less so. A heavily stylized story can more easily maintain the Willing Suspension of Disbelief. That’s why, for example, you don’t ask why the characters are singing in a musical — you just sort of accept the story’s outlandish internal logic, and the inherent melodrama of it doesn’t take you out of the story. Stylized stories are more concerned with being emotionally consistent over being logically consistent. The later Harry Potter books changed their emotional tone, but without changing the worldbuilding style to compensate.

In addition to the more mature themes and darker tone, Harry Potter introduced more realism as it went, but Rowling did not have the worldbuilding chops to pull this off. There’s the basic magic system stuff: When you begin thinking about it too hard, something like a Time-Turner stops being a fun magical device, and starts threatening to break the entire story. Then there’s the characters: Dumbledore leaving Harry on the Dursleys’ doorstep in the first book is an age-old fairy tale trope that goes unquestioned, but with the introduction of realism in the later books, it suddenly becomes abandonment of a child to an abusive family. The exaggerated stereotypes of characters like the Dursleys become tone-deaf. The fun school rivalry of the House system is suddenly lacking in nuance. And then there’s the shift in tone: The wizarding world that we were introduced to as a marvellous place is revealed to be dystopian. You start thinking about how impractical things like owl messengers are, you start wondering if Slytherin is being unjustly punished, the bad history appears glaringly obvious, the quaint archaisms become dangerously regressive. Oh, and the grand feasts are made through slave labor! The wizarding world suddenly feels small and backward instead of grand and marvellous. J.K. Rowling’s bigotry throws it all into an even harsher light.

This is why I’ve always preferred the early books and films to the later ones. There’s a lot of things I like about the later ones, but they’re not as stylized — they don’t have The Vibe. Thinking about things too hard is just a necessary condition of adulthood, but it’s still possible to tell a dark, mature story that is highly stylized. I really think JKR could have better pulled off that shift if she was a more competent worldbuilder. But it is painfully obvious that she did not think things through, and probably didn’t understand why she had to. In her defense, she did not know that her story would end up being one of the most scrutinized of all time. As it stands, her strength in worldbuilding was in the softer, smaller, deliberately unexplained moments of magic that were there just to provide atmosphere. And there were less and less of those as the books went along.

Pretty much all the Harry Potter-related content released since the last film — including Cursed Child, Fantastic Beasts, Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Legacy, Magic Awakened, and that short-lived Pokemon Go thing — have been unsuccessful attempts at recreating The Vibe. In fact, the only piece of supplemental Potter content that I think had that Vibe down pat was the original Pottermore, back when it was more of an interactive game. And of course that got axed. That was right around the time things started going downhill.

Some of the art from Pottermore’s original Sorting quiz.

So what now? Well, that’s the question.

I think I can safely say that The Vibe was the reason I liked Harry Potter. It’s the thing I still like the most about it. I’ve spent years chasing it, like an elusive Patronus through a dark wood. If I can capture and distill that Vibe, and use drops of it in my own work, then perhaps I won’t need Harry Potter anymore.

I'm gonna write the story that I wish Harry Potter was, and when I'm a famous author, I won't become a bigot. I'll see you on the other side.

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wizzdot · 2 months

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The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

ch1

Description: this is my first fic. Please be nice. It’s an A/B/O verse fic, not sure how it’ll end yet but it’s probs gonna be poly!141 in a pack situation. It’s a reader insert. Y/n will be used. It is going to be multi chapter so please follow / notify yourselves for updates. Happy reading. It’s going to be pretty traumatic. Mdni - there will be everything in this fic. Reader is she/her and omega. Taskforce 141 are all alpha. Alejandro is alpha, Rudy is omega. Others will be mentioned as and when they appear in the fic. Hugs and kisses, Wizz! Xx

"Bring Laika to me" Dr Dimitrov demands.

*Y/N's POV*

It is the middle of a harsh Russian winter. It is now approaching the 6th year, I think, of being held in this facility under the control of the ultranationalist terrorist group led by an Alpha, Vladamir Makarov. I have never actually met Makarov, but have heard stories and segments of information that I could pick up thanks to my very broken knowledge of the Russian intellect.

My room, or cell, to be more precise, is damp and dark.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of water falling from the ceiling sounds like the ticking of a, slightly out of time, clock. I close my eyes and count the ticks inside my own head, as far as I can go, before losing my place in the thousands and starting at one again. A sad metaphor for my life, really. After a few hours, the drips fade into heavy footsteps. I sit up and brace for whatever was about to happen. Like an obedient, albeit unstable, mutt. Hackles raised, but too scared to actually bite.

The door of my cell smashes open, jarring me from my self prescribed detachment from reality. I blink away the sound of dripping and concentrate on the two guards standing in front of me. I bow my head and submit. The guards stand proudly and sneer at my submissive nature.

"Pfft How is she the last one standing Sergei? I had my money on the ex-military Alpha. Not this little mutt... what even is she anyway? I can't scent her.." The guard jeers.

The other, less chatty, guard scents the air and seems to agree, all the while, I stand, offering my wrists for them to cuff in order to move me to wherever it was they were sending me this time.

"Such a good little bitch you are, Laika" the first guard sneers at me. I stay still, staring at my dirty, cracked shoes.

I am escorted by both guards toward a larger room. I have been here many times. It wasn't a nice room.

"Dr Dimitrov.." the guard announces "Laika - as requested" before they both turn and leave me to face the Doctor and his two assistants. The door closes and I am maneuvered to sit on a hard chair with restraints on the legs and arm rests. The assistants glance at the restraints and then to Dr Dimitrov, who is shaking his head. "No, she won't need those. Laika here, is an obedient little mutt. Isn't that right, Laika?" he mocks. I do not respond, continuing to look down, submissively.

"We have a new task for you Laika. Requested by Makarov himself. Now, personally I think its above your skill set, what with you being the weakest of our three original assets, but sadly we have no other choice now the other two are... expired" I glance up at him and scan the creepy, slimy smile on his face, and immediately drop my gaze back to the ground.

Should I be thankful to be the surviving one? I don't feel very thankful. I feel hopeless. I never had much hope, but to now feel completely and utterly devoid of it is really rather terrifying. I can feel heavy globs of tears well up in my lash line, but I refuse to let them fall. I can only pray or..hope.. that I - what was the word..? 'Expire' during this task too.

I snap out of my own thoughts and realise that the Doctor and his assistants had been discussing my mission and I had not been tuned in. I try to follow but they are talking in Russian so I only pick up segments. Something about a task force, 5 - or was it 4 - men. I am roughly uncuffed and I feel a hard hand grip my chin, wrenching my gaze upwards to meet Dr Dimitrov's. "You WILL comply, Laika. You remember what happened last time you acted up? And the time before that?" I weakly nod my head with wide eyes, terrified of the consequences. I didn't think I 'acted up' but when your controllers are as evil as this, any small fault is picked apart.

*3 years earlier*

I had been dropped discreetly, by Dimitrov, on the verge of a small Spanish village where a supposed cartel gang were holed up. My task was to, simply, eliminate the leader and one other assistant. I tailed the group for days and took stock of what they did every day and how they interacted. I'd been told that these men were responsible for bombing an airport and killing innocent civilians and children. The facility had been testing drugs on me for the past 18 months and they'd finally settled on the cocktail that suppressed my designation and kept me fully under their control. I was just a puppet on a string, but I was always reassured that I was on the 'good side' of history.

I had been away from the facility for a few days now, loaded with my weapons, maps and drugs, that I obediently took, three times a day as scheduled. During a scuffle with a small sub-group of the cartel, my bag was damaged and burnt during my escape. I dont realise what that actually meant until the following morning, when my head felt a bit clearer and my senses less foggy. I continue to go through the motions of tailing the man and his second in command. I had learnt that the leader of the Cartel was called Vargas and the other, Perez, or Parras, or something along those lines. The second day without my drugs, I realised that they were a bonded pair, and they actually were kind to those they met. My brain was telling me to follow orders and get back to the facility sharpish, but my heart wanted to observe the pair. It all blew up when another group rolled into the village and I was caught in the middle of a huge battle. I needed to complete my mission. I sneak round a building that I know Vargas is holed up in. I had seen the other man surrounded by armed men so assumed he had been taken care of already. I get to a rooftop and set my sniper rifle up and as I am about to take a shot I feel a sharp tug on my leg. I immediately roll and hold a knife to the neck of whoever had touched me.

I drop the knife, allowing it to clatter to the floor. The tap on my leg was a boy -maybe 4 years old, covered in blood and looked like he had been charred slightly in a fire. I feel some sort of instinct to protect him so I tuck him under my arm, tell him to be quiet and set back up at my rifle, readjusting the sight. I see Vargas through the cross hairs, and then behind him, I see one of the guards who work at the facility. This guard in particular is a brute of a man, always touching and groping me. Something comes over me then and I line up my sights and shoot him down. Vargas glances in the direction of the sniper and I can't be certain if he catches my eye or not, but I run, with the small boy under my arm.

I call in to be collected after the mission had failed. I had done as briefed and walked clear of the village. Three black trucks pull up and heavily armed guards step out alongside Dr Dimitrov. The child is pulled from my grasp and shot between the eyes. "You will learn to obey, Laika" he bellows down at me. I must have collapsed in shock when I saw the boy shot. "LOOK AT ME YOU USELESS MUTT" I hear but cannot collect myself to understand what is happening. I am ripped from the ground, jabbed with a needle, and thrown into a cage in the back of one of the cars. I wake up numb and strapped to the chair in the dreaded room I had come to hate so much but now I couldn't remember why I hated it.

"Dr Dimitrov, you'll be pleased to hear that the asset has been topped up with suppressants. This won't happen again. We are working on a long lasting injection which will enter her blood stream and alter her DNA for up to 8 weeks. This will remove any risk of this happening again. We apologise for any responsibility we may have in the failure of this objective" I hear from behind my chair. My brain is fuzzy, I feel like a spectator trapped in my own body.

"Good, Whatever the timescale on this injection is... Half it" Dr Dimitrov orders.

"Yes Sir" I hear from behind me, before hurried footsteps rush from the room, followed by the sharp slam of the door.

*Present Day*

I am returned to my cell with the instruction that I am to be collected at midnight for drop off at an undisclosed location. For the past 3 years, the facility had been successfully using the injectable suppressor drug, which kept me obedient and free of any symptoms of my designation, whatever it may be. They knew I wasn't an alpha due to my anatomy which left two options - Beta or Omega. They don't want to test as they know I am undesignated and had never experienced a heat when I was captured and still hadn't, possibly thanks to the suppressants but most likely due to the fact I am a Beta like my late mother and father, and two siblings. I try to sleep but thoughts plague my mind which is unusual in itself as my brain is usually in a constant haze due to the chemical alteration it has suffered for the past however many years.

I am tucked up the corner of my cell listening to the ticking of my imaginary clock.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I smell them before I hear them. And then I hear them before I see them. Or I hear the facility's alarm blaring, anyway. I try to hide in my cell but there is nowhere to go. They always remove my weapons before putting me away. I hear heavy, but fast footsteps splash down the hallway outside my room. I tuck myself immediately next to the door so anyone looking in through the small window wouldn't be able to see round the angle of my hiding spot. I hear the footsteps stop.

"Looks clear in my hallway, over" a strange accented voice speaks roughly, attempting to be quiet. His position from directly outside my door gives him away though but if he doesn't think I am here, then I will stay as quiet as a mouse until he leaves. I hear a radio muffle to life on his shoulder "Clear here too, over" a smooth, recognisably English voice radios back.

I feel my eyebrows furrow as a trace of a scent starts wafting through my door. It smells like rain and grass and...gunpowder. There are other scents too that I cannot place. Scents I haven't smelt before, or, it had been so long since I had, that I no longer knew its name. But I knew rain, grass and gunpowder. I try to chase the scent slightly, seeming to be distracted for a split second. I am broken from my thoughts when the crackly radio crashes to life again.

"Soap! Hostiles coming your way. They are wanting something - fuckin loads of them.. stay sharp" I try to muffle the gasp at the voice. He sounds like he could take on a bear in a fight, and win, just by shouting at it to piss off. I had never heard such a rough, strong voice. That was the voice of their leader. I just knew it.

The man with the strange accent starts buzzing about in the hallway, trying to find somewhere to fight from. He starts whispering to himself. "what the fuck are they lookin' for eh? Thought I'd cleaned the place out for fucks sake. Fuck it.. in here will have to do".

The handle of my cell starts shaking roughly, the rattle gets louder and louder. I am stuck, just out of view, like a deer in the headlights of a fast moving car. I hear him attach a small blast to the door and he blows the locks out, the door swinging open. He catches it before it hits the wall, avoiding the usual crash that occurs when the door swings open like that. He gently turns and shuts the door to make it look as if nothing had moved. I stay frozen. He steps back, and as he takes his first proper glance of the room, our eyes meet.

#task force x reader #poly 141 #omega reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #john mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #reader insert #omegaverse #abo dynamics #vladimir makarov #call of duty

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yeollie-plz · 1 year

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I Got You

Javier Pena x Plus Sized! F! Reader

Synopsis: Javier teaches you how to be confident. AKA Javier teaches you a lot of things…

Genre: Fluff, angst, AND smut!

Warnings: 18+, anxiety, problems with self confidence, reader insert (Y/N), smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), drinking, thigh riding, kissing, making out, cursing, reader gets soaked (in many ways)

Gif credits to owners!

This is a requested fic by a very lovely anon that sent me a DM. They were super sweet! I hope this is everything you wanted and you enjoy it! I also wish you all the happiness! Thank you! <3

P.S. I’m thinking there will be a part two to this but I’m not 100% yet. Lmk your opinions!

When you met Javier, you never knew how much he would end up meaning to you. In your eyes he was this handsome guy in tight (very tight) pants just lending you a hand. No actually, he had his hand held out to you to help you up. You took it with red cheeks and a shaky hand, muttering a thank you.

He smiled, "No problem, you okay?"

A nod was the only reply you could muster. Not only were you already embarrassed but there was something about the sun kissed glow of his skin that just had you blushing.

"Well, I'm actually supposed to be chasing the guy that knocked you over, so I gotta go." He said all too quickly and rushed off.

After a few days, you had convinced yourself that you were imagining the event all together. A product of watching too many rom coms, you had deducted. Nothing more.

That was until he walked into your favorite coffee shop and you knew you had not made it or him up. You followed him with your eyes as he ordered. He turned to scan the room, his orbs landing on yours. His head quirked to the side as a smile danced on his lips. Suddenly he turned at the sound of the barista calling something out. He grabbed his coffee from her with a nod and turned back to you.

He made his way over to the table you were at and took a seat.

"Hi again." He said while taking a long sip from his coffee. It was probably hot too...

"H-Hi."

"I hope this is okay, me sitting here I mean. No other tables were available so."

You glanced around, there was at least five tables open. Your brows furrowed, "Um, sure, I don't mind."

He took another drink from his coffee, making a sound of content at the taste.

"Wanna go out with me tonight?" He said after a few seconds of silence.

"What?" You weren't sure you heard him right. He wanted to go out with you?

"Do you want to go out with me tonight? Dinner? Maybe dancing?" He clarified. You did hear him right.

"Um, I don't really dance."

"I'll show you, believe it or not I’m a pretty good dancer.” He said, swaying his hips slightly. It all looked pretty awkward, seeing as he was sitting down. You quirked a brow at his movements.

“I believe it. I just-“ You started, only to be cut off.

“Great! I’ll see you at the place next door to here at 7.” He got up abruptly, taking his coffee with him.

He just turned around when he seemed to remember something, “Oh! I’m Javier by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” You sat there stunned by the conversation. The only thing you heard was the bell over the door ringing as Javier left.

Javier…

—————— Five Months Later ——————

You were lounging on Javier’s couch, yelling throughout his place as he got ready for some work event.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with?” He yelled from his bedroom.

“Javi…I can’t come, you know that.”

“You just don’t want to come.” Emerging from his bedroom, wearing a pink button down. He gestured to the shirt questioningly, you nodded in approval.

He made his way to the couch, lifting your legs so he could place them on his lap.

“You know why I don’t want to go.” You said while looking down at your hands.

“Hermosa…” There was a sort of pleading in his voice.

“Javier…” You pleaded back. There was almost a threat in your voice.

“Fine, then I am staying as well. I’d much rather be on this couch with you anyways.”

“You have to go, it’s for work. Besides there might be a beautiful lady you can take home there.” You said with a shrug. Although, you liked Javier the two of you were never going to be more than friends.

You didn’t think he would ever like you. How could he? You were you. It hurt, of course especially because you were all but in love with Javier Peña. But again you were you and someone like Javier would not like someone like you.

He was experienced, you were not. He was confident, you were not. He was fit, you were…not…

He had a type and you did not fit that type.

“I should go, let you get to your party.” You said with a hint of sadness, your thoughts sinking into you. Lifting yourself off the couch, you headed to the door.

“I like you.” Javier bursted out. You turned almost too quickly at his words. He was avoiding your gaze, pretending to be interested in his hands.

“You what?”

“I like you. I like you a lot actually. Maybe too much.” Finally he met your eyes.

You scoffed, “No, no you don’t.”

“Yes I do.” He said matter-of-factly. Javier rose from the couch and crossed the room to you. Grabbing your hand, he brought it up to his heart.

“Feel that? It’s racing, that’s how it always is when I’m around you. It started the moment I met you and hasn’t stopped since. My heart beats for you.” He was right, his heart was racing.

“Javier…” His name left your lips in almost a whisper.

“Y/N…”

Your eyes met, “I can’t.”

And you ran.

You kept running until you found yourself at the spot you met Javier at. It was only then that you sunk to the ground and began to cry.

It didn’t take long for Javier to find you there. You didn’t notice him at first until he held out his hand to you.

Tears streaming down your face, you slowly looked up at him.

“Can we please talk?” He pleaded with you.

You took his hand and let him help you up.

“Let me talk,” you started, “How? How could you like me? I’m no where even close to your league. I’m a virgin! I look like this for gods sake!”

“You look perfect.” Javier tried to reassure you as he reached for your hand. You denied him, stepping back.

“I do not.”

“You do. And being a virgin, well that’s an easy fix.” He said with a smirk. You couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks.

“But what about all the girls you are with all the time?”

He chuckled, “I haven’t seen any of them in months, basically since I met you.”

“But-“

“No buts, let me show you how much you mean to me. Come home with me?” He held out his hand to you once again.

“I’m not…I don’t think I’m ready for that.” You shook your head and took his hand.

“That’s okay, we can take it slow. Everything is on your timeline. But let me lead? It’ll be like when I taught you to dance, I’ll teach you to love yourself. I'll teach you to see yourself, the way that I see you. I got you.” His eyes bore into you, you nodded.

—————— One Month Later ——————

In the one month that Javier and you had been dating, he had taken you on a date almost everyday. He would do at least one thing each day to ease yourself into confidence.

Today he had decided to take you shopping, he wanted you to find a new dress to go dancing in. Dancing had become a very common date activity for the two of you. It brought you out of your shell and gave Javier an excuse to have his hands all over you.

You were struggling with picking a dress though. You had brought a few into the dressing room and each didn’t sit right. Pulling at the fabric of the latest one, you sighed.

“Amor, come out. Let me see.” You heard from the other side of the curtain.

“No, I don’t like it, it doesn’t look good.” You stared at your reflection. In retrospect the dress would look good, it hugged every curve and pushed your boobs up. It was just you. The dress did not work on you. If you had lost a few pounds maybe…

All of a sudden the curtain was opened and Javier slid into the dressing room.

“Holy shit, you look amazing. This dress is…wow.” Javier was awestruck.

You rolled your eyes, “I look like a sack of potatoes.”

“And oh how delicious you are.” He replies with a smirk, capturing your lips with his own.

You and Javier had kissed already. You’ve even made out a few times, done a little over the clothes groping but you were still not at a fully sexual point yet. You were still nervous.

The kiss was feverish, like the two of you were starving for it. Teeth clashing and tongues molding together. Javier’s hands found your ass and squeezed causing you to yelp.

“I want to taste you.” He said against your lips.

“Aren’t you already?”

“I want to taste,” he glanced down, “all of you.”

It took a few seconds for you to understand what he meant until you felt his hard on against your thigh.

“Oh.” You said in realization.

“Oh?” He replied with a raise of his brows.

“I think I would like that.”

Javier smirked placing one last kiss to your lips before falling to his knees. Pushing the dress up past the swell of your ass. He marveled at your underwear choice. Although not the sexiest, they were a bit lacey.

“Fuck, it’s like you knew what was going to happen today.”

He ran his fingertips up the inside of your thigh, slipping a finger under the crotch of your panties, feeling your wetness.

“You’re soaked. Why haven’t you told me how much I effect you?”

You shrugged in response, “I’m still nervous about it all.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about. I got you.”

Suddenly he pulled down your panties and took in all of your naked form, well half naked. Not wasting any time, he licked a strip along your core causing you to gasp. It was a newfound pleasure. Of course you had touched yourself before but nothing compared to someone else, especially someone’s tongue.

Javier seemed content with your reaction and continued to slowly tease you with his tongue. Each stroke of his muscle causing you to react. The teasing was almost too much, you needed more. You let your hips grind down onto his mouth.

“Mmm baby, yes grind on my tongue. Show me how good I make you feel.” His words made you moan.

“Oh but keep quiet, don’t forget we are in public.”

Right, you were in public. You were being ate out for the first time…in public. Holy shit. It was kind of hot actually.

You quickly forgot about the fact that anyone could hear or find the two of you and focus on the intense pleasure Javier was giving you. He had started to move his tongue faster, swirling his tongue in circles every few licks.

At this point you were keening, struggling to keep yourself on your feet. Javier moved his hand to the backside of your thigh and lifted it over his shoulder, supporting you with his body and giving you more balance. This also caused his tongue to hit a new angle, you let a moan pass your lips. Your hand slapped over your mouth.

You saw Javier’s eyes glance up at you and you swore you saw someone flash behind them.

“Can I use my fingers?” At this point you were far past the nerves and logic, so you nodded instantly.

The hand that wasn’t supporting your thigh grabbed your hip and squeezed before trailing down to where his mouth was. He pulled off only to gain a whine from you. He laughed and ran his finger along your entrance. Slowly he inserted that finger. You gasped.

“Please, Javi, I need more.”

That was all Javier needed to hear to fully let himself go. He began pumping his finger in and out of you, hitting the perfect spot inside of you. He added another finger to the mix and quickened his pace slightly. Bringing his lips back to your clit he sucked the bud in before letting it go with a pop. His tongue was now on you again. At this point your knees were shaking. He moved his tongue in time with his thrusts.

“I’m-I’m gonna” You began to say but couldn’t finish as blinding white pleasure crashed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your orgasm. Never have you felt something so good. No time you touched yourself was it ever this amazing.

Javier worked you through your orgasm, it wasn’t until you whimpered that he let up. He stood and brought his lips to yours once again.

“That was…oh my…”

He smiled and pecked your lips.

“I’m glad it was good. Now you better get that dress.”

Ever since that day in the dressing room, Javier has been even more attached to you. Complimenting you every chance he gets, always needing to be touching you in some way, he was obsessed. A part of you was beginning to accept that this was more than another score for Javier. He actually liked you...maybe even love...no. Nope, there was no way. Javier would never love someone like you, he was too...Javier.

Tonight, you and Javier were going to meet his partner, Steve, and his wife, Connie, for a little dinner double date. You were beyond nervous. You had met Steve in passing a few times but now the situation was different. You and Javier were together, what would he think? And not to mention Connie, you had never met her.

Javi tried to reassure you numerous times. He said they would love you and that he didn't care if they didn't anyways, but it all still gnawed in the back of your head.

There was a knock at your door, it was Javier. You did one more once over in the mirror, tilting your head at your appearance. You were wearing the dress, it felt wrong to put it back after such a sin was committed in it. Plus, Javier liked it so much you couldn't say no. Lightly pushing a piece of hair back into place, you decided that this was as good as it was going to get and made your way to the door.

Javier stood leaning against the doorframe, a single rose in this hand.

"Cariño, if I knew you were gonna wear this, I would've planned for us to stay in tonight." He was mesmerized by your appearance. You blushed instantly, looking down at your feet.

"I think we cancel, I wanna keep you all to myself." Javi tried to push himself into your apartment, you placed your hand on his chest to stop his movements.

"Javier, we have to go. How would I look if we were to cancel on them?"

He sighed, "We could make up a really good excuse! But fine, you're right," He handed you the rose. "But if anyone even looks at you, I'm taking you straight home."

You rolled your eyes at his antics and took the rose, admiring it. You knew no one would even glance your way but your heart swelled at his...was it jealousy...?

Arriving at the restaurant, you were greeted by Steve and Connie who had already arrived and claimed a table for the four of you. You tried to put on your most confident smile as Javier introduced you to them.

Although you and Javier hadn't had the official talk of what you were to each other, a piece of you wished he called you his girlfriend. Instead you were just Y/N to him.

The conversation was light as you all decided what to order. Connie recommended a cocktail to you and you ended up ordering it. After the server left with your orders, Connie asked how the two of you met.

Javier laughed as he told the story of a perp knocking you over and him becoming your "knight in shining armor." His words, not yours. That seemed to break the tension you had stored up as you laughed along with him. Connie was also laughing at the dramatics of Javier's storytelling. Steve had a big smile on his face that he was trying to hide with his hand.

The rest of the evening went smoothly, all of you talking about anything and everything. You were relieved with how well it was going, the food was also delicious.

The night was winding down and Javier was now three drinks in and little tipsy. You had stopped at one, but not only did he have a higher tolerance...he also had a bit of an addiction. Not that you minded, you just knew he got very handsy when he has been drinking.

As if you were manifesting it, Javier's right hand had made it onto your thigh. He was rubbing soft circles into your flesh.

You would've brushed it off but his pinky was getting dangerously close to your center. Clearing your throat you stood, Javier's hand fell from your thigh.

"I'm just going to use the restroom really quickly. Be right back." You shot Javier a warning glance as you walked towards the bathroom.

You had finished your business and were now washing your hands when you heard the door opening. You didn't look over, assuming it was just another person needing to use the bathroom, until you heard the lock click. Thats when your eyes snapped up, meeting Javier's.

"Javi...what are you doing in here?" You whisper-yelled at him.

"No need to get nervous, amor, I needed to see you in private. You've been driving me crazy all night." He sauntered towards you, you made note of the slight stagger in his steps.

"You've been drinking. I need to take you home." You said as you side stepped his advances.

"I only had three and I want you." Stepping towards you once again.

"You can have me when you're sober." You bopped his nose and made your way to the door, only to be stopped by Javier placing his hand over the lock. His other was trapping your body. You turned around to face him, raising a brow.

"Please just kiss me." He wasn't asking, he was almost begging.

You gave in and pressed your lips to his. Javier melted against you. His hands fell to your hips and guided you to the counter. Where he started to mess with the hem of your dress. You let this go on for a bit before pulling away when he started to pull it upwards.

"Uh uh, you said a kiss. Your partner and his wife are waiting for us."

"Please, I'm sure they are about to do the same thing. Steve's been eye fucking Connie all night long." Javier rolled his eyes and tried to bring your body back to his.

"I did not need that image." He laughed. "Can't we just go home? We can cuddle and maybe a little more there." Your voice was laced with the innuendo.

"Fine, but only 'cause I'm pretty sure I saw the bartender looking at your ass."

You two paid and bid your goodbyes to Steve and Connie. Making your short walk back to Javier's place. As you were walking the streets of Colombia, raindrops began to fall on you.

"It starting to rain." You pointed out. Javier released his hand from yours and lifted them to the sky, trying to feel the rain. He nodded.

"We better hurry home then." And right as he finished his sentence, it began to pour. Javier grabbed your hand and dragged you into a run to his front entrance.

Finally you two entered his place, now soaking wet. He lifted his shirt over his head, muttering something about needing it off. You marveled at his tanned form. This wasn't the first time you had seen him shirtless, but now there was a new fire inside of you.

He seemed to notice you staring and smirked at you. But that quickly faded as he noticed you shivering.

"Let me get you a towel and some dry clothes." He left down the hallway, leaving you to drip in the entryway. Javier returned with a towel and a t-shirt.

"Here, I'll let you change, be right back." You accepted the items graciously and started to dry your hair with the towel.

After you were sure he was gone, you peeled the drenched dress from your skin and slipped into Javier's t-shirt. You brought the collar to your nose and inhaled, it smelt like him. You smiled.

His footsteps were heard coming down the hall and he rounded the corner with fresh, dry clothes. Including a very revealing pair of gray sweatpants. This is when you realized the draw of a gray sweatpant, you could see everything. You were now wet for an entirely different reason.

"Damn, the rain really sobered me up." You snapped out of your day dream just as Javier slumped down onto the couch.

You don't know what came over but you crossed the room to the couch and straddled Javier's hips. He blinked at you in surprise, but he gladly accepted the intrusion of personal space.

"What are you doing, sweetie?" He questioned.

"Don't know, just need you." You didn't wait for a reply and leaned fully into him, capturing his lips with your own.

Now you were the one who just needed to kiss him. He moaned into the kiss. The sound caused you to grind down into him, feeling him harden.

His hands were gripping your hips and leading your motions against him. Keeping up the friction, the two of you were lost in the kiss, that was getting more and more deep as it went on.

Nothing but lust filled the air as the two of you kept up the heated make out. One of his hands reached between your thighs and ghosted over your clit, causing you to gasp. This let him slip his tongue past your open lips, fighting for dominance with yours.

“Naughty girl not wearing any panties.” He said into your lips.

“They got all wet.” You tried to defend yourself. You tell he was holding back the innuendo that was on his mind before he brought your lips back together.

The hand that was teasing your clit, reached up to your jaw and pulled your face from his. You looked confusedly at him.

“I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Good, I want you to ride my thigh.” He said while looking into your eyes, trying to read them.

A few thoughts flashed through your head as you processed his request.

You couldn’t muster anything out but a, “Are you sure?”

He nodded, “I got you.”

He helped you shift your body so that you were now straddling only one of his thighs.

“Just grind on me like you were before, baby. Use me to get yourself off.” His eyes were filled with lust. He sure did like pleasing a woman.

You nodded and leaned back into his lips. As the kiss heated up again, you didn’t even need to think about it, your hips started moving on their own. Grinding your clit down into the fabric of his sweatpants. The texture causing you to moan into Javier’s mouth.

“That’s right baby, use my thigh.” He broke the kiss to trail his lips down the expanse of your neck. He attached his teeth and sucked, you knew there would be a mark (or a few) the next day but you didn’t care.

His mouth pulled off your neck with a pop. He admired his work before looking at your blissed out face. He watched as your hips slowed a little as you lost your rhythm.

Javier’s hands returned to your waist to help you back into a pattern. He rocked your body back and forth and watched as you fell apart on top of him. He thanked whatever god brought you to him.

As you got closer and closer to your release, it got harder to focus. Not even Javier’s guidance was helping to you to keep up.

He must has sensed your distress and brought his lips back to yours and his thumb back to your clit. He worked the hud as he worked your mouth.

The kiss was slower now as he was more concentrated on getting you to your finish line. His thumb moving expertly against your clit, rubbing it in circles. The perfect speed and pressure.

You threw you head back, breaking the kiss.

“I’m so close. Please…”

He rubbed you quicker and right as you were about to tip over the edge he pulled your hips back down onto his thigh. His hands helping to get your hips back into motion. Even with how muddled your brain was, you knew what you body needed and you ground into him.

He flexed his thigh to give you more pressure. This action and rubbing your clit one last time at just the right angle, sent you into an intense orgasm. Your hips moved faster and faster as you worked through it. Javier’s hands kneaded your breasts lightly as he watched you fall apart.

As your breathing evened out, Javier spoke up. “Was it good, mi amor?”

You could only form a drunk after orgasm nod as a response. He smiled and kissed your forehead. Slowly he lifted you off his thigh and placed you onto the couch.

“Now I need a new pair of pants again.” He chuckled, noticing the huge wet spot that now adorned them. He began to lift himself off the couch before you spook up.

“Javi…what are we?” He looked over at your blissed out face.

“We are whatever you want us to be, hermosa.”

“I want to be yours.”

“Then you are mine.” He stood over you, using the back of the couch to support his weight.

“I want all of you.” This could be the orgasm talking but you had let it slip out and there was no going back.

“In due time. Right now, I’m going to put you to bed. We had a long night.” He pecked your lips and lifted his body to an upright position.

Javier leant his hand out to you, you took it. A knowing smile on both of your faces.

“I got you. Forever and always.”

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena angst #javier pena fluff #javier pena smut #javier pena story #Javier pena #pedro pascal smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfic #narcos #Pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fic

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freeuselandonorris · 19 days

Note

been trying to write this ask for like 20 minutes but i had to have an unscheduled break to re-read brand new box of matches (my most beloved). ANYWAY that's not what i was here to ask, i was here to ask very nicely for a flipped POV of literally any part of is it cold in the water (if you fancy! if you cba writing then your favourite detail in it would also be lovely) 🥰

why yes i DO fancy!! so funny to me how popular this was - in addition to the two asks i got it, two more people have told me this was what they were originally going to request. you fucking horrible perverts (highly complimentary) 🥰

cw for consensual non-consent!

bonus: my favourite detail in that fic is where oscar admits he rewatched season 1 of happy valley for inspiration, possibly my most shameless self-insert moment. i've referenced it again here - the scene oscar thinks about is the one at the end of episode 1 where tommy says "are you a virgin?" to the girl he's got tied up in his basement, and it's one of the most chilling and insanity-inducing moments in tv history To Me.

on that unhinged note!

It’s like it normally is, only it’s not. Lando’s familiar bedroom, the smell of the laundry detergent his cleaner uses wafting up from the mussed sheets. Lando, facedown in front of him, his cock aching in his jeans.

And the pillowcase, sucked in and out of his mouth as he breathes frantically. The ziptie, digging into the skin of his wrists, fingers twisting frantically over each other against the small of his back. The skin’s already going white where he’s pulling against them, the sharp edges of the plastic biting into his soft skin. Shit. He'd not thought about that.

“That’ll cut your skin if you struggle,” Oscar says. He forces his voice flat and cold, menacing like he’s a bad guy. Quiet with it. “So I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

Maybe it doesn’t ring true – he wouldn’t care if Lando ended up with cuts if he were doing this for real – but it works regardless. Lando relaxes his hands, letting them go limp against his back.

It’s so easy to make him comply. Oscar reaches out, curls his fingers beneath the waistband of Lando’s stupid fancy track pants, and pulls.

Lando makes a high sound, and for a second Oscar thinks he’s laughing, a hot burst of embarrassment cutting through the steely headspace, until it clicks. He’s not laughing. He’s crying.

Something lances jagged and ugly through Oscar’s chest, the urge to push on a bruise and make it worse. The kind of urge he wouldn’t usually act on.

He barks a laugh, as if he’s amused by Lando’s pathetic fear. The sound scrapes up his throat. He can feel his pulse in his fingertips.

Beneath him, Lando’s spread out, his hole just about visible between his cheeks, the light dusting of hair. He couldn’t cover himself up even if he wanted to, with his sight gone and his hands tied and Oscar’s weight right behind him, more effective than any verbal threat.

A scene flashes through his mind. He’d chosen role models for this, which was perhaps insane, but it helps now to feel like the persona he’s crafting is external rather than some fundamental part of him. A face, covered by a balaclava, leaning close and speaking so softly it’s barely audible. A question that could almost be innocuous, posed with deadly inflection.

“Not even got any underwear on. You wanna be careful,” he says, leaning in close. “Some people might think you’re up for anything.”

He spreads Lando apart with both hands, rougher than he usually would. Looks down at him, the tight pink furl of his hole twitching nervously. The tiny freckle inside one cheek, the one that takes Oscar’s breath away every time he sees it, a secret written into Lando’s skin for only him to know about.

He feels something like love for Lando as he spits on him, delirious with the intimacy of it all. To give something like this to Lando, the sharpest and most lethal edge of pleasure – to be able to take what he wants, for Lando to trust him to press both toes right up to that edge but not drag them over it –

Fuck, it’s hot. He feels powerful, and that’s hot too.

He rubs Lando’s hole with two fingers, smearing saliva.

“Please,” Lando slurs. His hole twitches again as Oscar rubs it. “Please don’t do this.”

It’s not real, he tells himself. He wants this.

It goes against every instinct he has, to hear Lando begging him to stop and do it anyway. Maybe it’s sick, how much he wants to do it, how good it feels to listen to Lando’s pleas and disregard them.

He looks down at Lando’s helpless body, on display for him. He can feel the saliva drying on his finger already, knows it won’t be enough to slick the way. It’ll hurt a bit, probably.

He pushes his finger inside. The sound Lando makes goes right down to his bones.

#prompt fill #mctwinks #answered

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lainiespicewrites · 1 year

Text

A lesson in flirting

Hi friends! This one had been sitting in my unfinished stories for a while. I love a good Henry fic It's another OFC because I can't seem to get off the "Self-insert" thing rn! LOL but you guys seem to love these stories and writing myself as a main character just gives me this air of confidence...Idk lmao... anyway enjoy! Also maybe doing this is part of kinktober?? Idk I’m not really following a prompt list buuut this kind goes with size kink??? Idk? I just wanna post more!

Plot: In which Alayna and her friends are at a bar, she's trying to explain to her friends that flirting is easy. until she sees Henry and her friends tell her to put her money where her mouth is.

Warnings: Smut Like just so much smut. Dirty talk, Oral (male and female receiving), P in V smut, creampie

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“No, I mean it! It’s so easy! Men aren’t THAT complicated.” I exclaimed. Hayley shook her head at me. I laughed and downed the rest of my drink.

“You are so boy crazy,” She laughed, “If it’s so easy prove it!” she smirked. Shit, I’d been drinking and lord knows I’m not one to back down from a challenge. I looked over at Skyler who had the same look on her face.

“Come on Alayna, you look so good tonight! Don’t waste it! You’ve been eyeing that guy by the bar for the last 5 minutes. Go for it!” She urged. I really stuck my foot in my mouth here. I’d been telling them about a time I went out a few months ago and decided I wanted to kiss this guy and just … made it happen. I may have been a little overconfident. I looked over again at the guy they were talking about. He was absolutely gorgeous. He was at least 6’1 with beautiful dark curls and one of the sweetest smiles I’d ever seen.

“I-I don’t know, I’m all talk,” I said immediately going back on my previous statement. “This guy is way out of my league.”I sighed.

“No he isn’t!,” Skyler said quickly, “You’re literally so hot! He’d be stupid not to be into you.” Hayley nodded.

“She’s right dude! Prove yourself right! Go talk to him.” I took one look back at him. Well hopefully if this doesn��t work out I don’t make myself look like an idiot.

“Alright,” I paused looking at the girls. “Commencing phase one.” I joked.

“Jesus,” Hayley shook her head and Skyler just laughed.

“Yes! Go get your man!” She cheered me on. Okay, Phase one. Luckily this would be easy. The bartender Nick was already down at his end of the bar so it was the perfect excuse to “Bump into him” and squeeze my way up to the bar to order another drink. It helps that it’s a little crowded too. I pushed past a group of country boys standing around holding their Busch lights. The kind that rolls into the bar in tattered jeans they’ve been working in all day and dirty old work boots. Definitely not my first choice. I shake the thought out of my head starting to get nervous as I approach him. His back is toward me now. I walked up next to him at the counter, my shoulder brushing against him.

“I’m so sorry!” I blushed. He turned to look at me and smiled.

“That’s perfectly okay! It's a bit crowded here tonight huh?” he asked, chuckling softly. Sweet baby Jesus, he’s British! I nodded. Nick was still with another customer so I took the opportunity to make light conversation.

“Whatcha drinking?” I asked. He fully turned to face me. Beer bottle in hand.

“Guinness has always been my favorite.” He said, taking a sip. “Are you a beer drinker?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Not unless I'm already drunk, or it's in an Irish car bomb.” I joked. He laughed and raised an eyebrow.

“An Irish car bomb? Wouldn’t have assumed that’d be your drink of choice.” He smirked.

“Oh, it’s not! but my brother took me out for my 21st with his friends, they’re like my brothers. Anyway, I did a full “bombs away” Not sure if you’ve heard of that?” I raised an eyebrow. He chuckled, nodding.

“I do, That had to be a rough time!”

“It was certainly rough the next day!” The bartender was finally ready so I made eye contact with him to signal I wanted to order.

“What's up?” he asked.

“Hey, can I get another Rum and Coke please?” He nodded and walked away to get it started. Nick was a man of little words. I appreciated that about him.

“Not a bad choice,” I heard the guy say. I laughed

“It’s been my drink of choice since my friend and I started stealing “captain” out of her parent's liquor cabinet senior year.” He chuckled softly. Just then Nick came back with my drink. I smiled and thanked him again. He just nodded. I turned back to the mystery guy and smiled. “Well, it was nice talking to you!” I said.

“You too! Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” He said.

“Alayna!” I said quickly.

“Alayna,” He repeated and smiled. “I’m Henry,”

“Nice to meet you, Henry!” I said and started to walk away.

“Nice to meet you, Alayna!” He called after me. I walked back to the girls' new drink in hand and a spring in my step. I smirked sitting back down in between them.

“Oh my god how’d it go?!” Skyler asked immediately.

“So he’s fucking British!” I stated.

“You’re kidding!” Hayley added. I shook my head.

“Dead ass! His name is Henry, and that’s about all I know! Except he’s even more beautiful up close!” I tried so hard not to squeal. Having a crush was thrilling and fun even if it went nowhere.

“Okay not to get your hopes up but he’s definitely looking this way!” Skyler said. I brought my drink to my lips took a long sip and let my eyes fall in his direction. He was and he was smiling. Before I could catch his eye his attention was brought back to his friend as they continued their conversation.

“I told you.” I shrugged. Hayley shook her head.

“That doesn’t prove anything buddy, maybe he just thought you were nice,” she stated. Skyler laughed

“He was absolutely staring at her ass as she walked away but okay yeah he just thought she was nice.” She said, I was blushing and trying so desperately to act cool but I knew it wasn’t coming out that way. I took a long pull of my drink and sighed.

“This is gonna be a high school crush situation all over again if I can’t hold it together. God, he’s so beautiful up close though. I really don’t know how I managed that conversation, let alone blatant flirting.” I shook my head and changed the subject. Asking the girls about work. I had neither of them fooled but they let me change the subject.

“It’s going okay but I certainly could use a vacation,” Hayley said. I laughed

“Says the girl who was in Hawaii 3 months ago!” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, and you left us here!” Skyler argued. Hayley retorted with something sarcastic but I didn’t hear her. Henry was walking in our direction and I immediately caught his eye. He smiled when he saw me slowing down as he was walking past.

“Hey! Are you having a good night?” He asked. I nodded and gave him a big smile.

“I’m having a great night! Just out with the girls. And you?” He quickly glanced over at them and smiled softly.

“That’s awesome,” He turned his attention back to me and it was a bit dark but I’m almost positive he gave me a once over. “And I’m good! Great now, just a little buzzed and headed to the toilet,” He chuckled.

“Well don’t let me keep you!” I laughed. I watched as he smirked slightly, looking me over again. He gave me a quick wink.

“I’ll see you later, love,” He spoke and then walked away toward the restrooms. As he walked away I heard Skyler trying to hold back a squeal.

“He was absolutely flirting with you!” She smiled. Even Hayley agreed.

“Dude it’s like we weren’t even here,” She said. I smiled.

“Yeah, I noticed that. But he does seem really sweet! I’m gonna let him make the next move though.” All of a sudden feeling a rush of energy I downed the rest of my drink. “Fuck it let's go dance!” I said standing up and pulling both of them up with me. I heard Hayley start to complain that she can’t dance so I took her hand and spun her. “Just move! Everyone’s drunk anyway. No one cares! Let loose!” I said. Skyler grabbed my hand and spun me and then jokingly twerked on me. We were laughing and genuinely having a good time.

This is what we came out for tonight. Just to have fun and be carefree. The song switched to some early 2000s girl group. The kind that makes you feel invincible. The girls and I were still dancing. I spun around and almost ran directly into Henry.

“I’m so sorry!” I giggled. Clearly more a little more buzzed now. Henry smirked.

“No need to apologize darling. You’re having fun!” He chuckled.

“I am!” I exclaimed. “You should dance with me!” He smiled but raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not much of a dancer, Love,” He said. I pouted.

“Please? It’ll be fun!” I begged. He chuckled.

“Of course, I will, for you!” He smiled. I let out an excited squeak causing him to laugh. I grabbed his hand and pulled him to a slightly less crowded area of the makeshift dance floor. I turned around and pressed my back to his chest. Immediately his hands found my hips. I slowly started to move my hips against him and looked back giving him a cheeky smile.

“Told you I’d make it fun!” I said. He smirked and licked his lips slowly.

“I never doubted that,” He spoke. He slowly started moving his hands up my sides. I bit my lip. I loved the feeling of his hands on my body. I felt my shirt rise a little as his fingers moved over the hem of the crop top. Then I felt his fingertips against my neck as he brushed my hair back off my shoulder. I pressed against him, grinding on him to the music. His breath was hot against my neck. “Enjoying yourself, love?” He spoke his voice low and gravely. I knew he wanted to make a move. I could feel him against me. But He was trying to be respectful. Or as respectful as he could with my ass pressed to him.

“Mmhmm, but I’d be having more fun if you’d kiss me.” I started trying so hard to play cool. My heart was racing and the anticipation felt like electricity coursing through me. He moved his hands back down squeezing my hips before he turned me around to face him. He was smiling. God, he was such a beautiful man. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “You have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen by the way.” I blushed, losing my nerve now that I was looking him in the eye.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” He said back. I blushed.

“That can’t be true, you’re like, insanely hot!” I blurted out. He chuckled, tightening his grip on my hip and pulling me flush against him. My hands were on his chest. Fuck he was solid. We were so close. I was even more nervous now that I had the chance to really look at him. He was wearing a plaid button-up with the top 3 buttons undone and revealing a patch of chest hair. His shoulders were broad and strong. I felt small in his arms. The way he was looking at me I felt like I’d have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding me up.

“Yeah, and you’re absolutely gorgeous,” He stated. He caressed my cheek softly before leaning in and kissing me. I immediately kissed him back. I moved so my arms were wrapped around his shoulders and tangled my fingers in his hair. He groaned softly, walking me backward until my back was pressed against the wall. He kissed me roughly and as he pulled away he caught my bottom lip between his teeth biting down softly before pressing one last gentle kiss to my lips. He looked down at me hungrily. “I wanna take you home with me.” He growled in my ear before he started kissing my neck.

“I’m sure the girls won’t miss me,” I smirked. He stopped peppering kisses along my jaw and looked me in the eyes.

“Is that a yes, love?” He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his face.

“If I don’t go with you, you’re coming home with me! I don’t wanna miss out on you!” I said. And maybe it was a little eager but I meant it. There was no way I was walking away from him now. “Give me like two seconds to let my friends know so they aren’t panicking though!” I said. He gave me a soft smile and kissed my cheek.

“Of course darling,” I walked over to where the girls were still dancing not far from me. No doubt they’d seen our spur-of-the-moment makeout session. I didn’t care.

“Hey so um…” I started.

“You Whore,” Hayley stated before I could say anything. I just laughed.

“You know it!” I joked back.

“Just make sure you use protection! I mean it!” Skyler said. “And I want details!!” She added. I laughed.

“Okay well, I’m gonna go then … you guys get home safe!”

After a quick goodbye, I turned around and found Henry at the bar closing his tab. He smiled when he saw me and pulled me to his side.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” He asked. I nodded. He kept his arm around me as we walked out. He led us to his car, opening the door for me. He got in started the car and paused. “My place or yours?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Yours, one of the girls lives right down the hall and I don’t need her keeping an eye on me.” I chuckled.

“It’s sweet that she checks in though. Do you live alone?” He asked.

“Well hold on, how do I know if I tell you that you aren’t gonna stalk me and murder me?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Because you’re already in my car and if I wanted to kill you I could just do it now.” He paused for a second and chuckled. “I’m not a murderer, I promise. Besides if I killed you I couldn’t take you on a proper date after all this. That wouldn’t be very chivalrous, and to be honest I just know I wanna see you again.” I was blushing.

“Okay, you make a good argument,” I said. “I wanna see you again too. And we haven’t fucked yet.” I immediately squeezed my eyes shut. I can’t believe I said that. And I was too nervous to see the look on his face. I felt him put his hand on my thigh. I slowly looked over at him. He was smirking.

“Oh, but we will.” He stated. He looked over at me letting his eyes roam over my body quickly before he focused back on the road.

Fuck. He’s so hot, this man is about to ruin all other men for me. I heard him chuckle. “Doing okay over there love?” He squeezed my thigh and let his hand wander further up. I bit my lip and nodded.

“Y-yeah, having the best time right now!” fucking idiot.

“It’ll be even better in a few minutes. You’re so sexy. Do you have any idea what you were doing to me back there?” It was my turn to smirk.

“I’ve got a pretty good idea. Pretty sure I could feel it!” I teased. He playfully smacked my thigh. God this was gonna be a good night.

“Not sure how you could miss it with your ass pressed against me like that.” I just laughed.

“I didn’t hear you complaining!” I said and laced my fingers with his hand that was resting on my thigh.

“I wasn’t,” he smiled, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles. He let go of my hand as he turned into his driveway and put the car in park. He waited for me in front of the car and took my hand again leading me up to his house. He quickly unlocked the door and I followed him inside.

He flipped on a light in the entryway so we could see where we were going. Then he turned back to me grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into him. I initiated the kiss wrapping my arms around his shoulder and tangling my fingers in his curls pulling him down to me. It was a very needy kiss. Pressing my lips to his and letting him suck my bottom lip between his. He backed me into the wall and started to kiss my neck. “Fuck your such a naughty girl, what am I gonna do with you?” He asked and then scraped his teeth across my neck. I moaned and tugged at his curls. He growled against my neck, soothing it with soft kisses. His touch was sending shockwaves through my body. I needed more of him. I ran my hands down his shoulders and over his chest. I brushed my hand over his cock, he was already getting hard. I teasingly squeezed him over his jeans. “Mmm” he moaned softly pulling away from his assault on my neck to watch me tease him.

I continued to explore his body, slipping my hands under his shirt and letting my fingers brush across his abs. I bit my lip when I felt him tense under my fingertips. He chuckled and stepped back pulling off his shirt, a proud smirk on his face. He was incredibly muscular. His chest was solid and broad. He was hairy which I had to admit was a serious turn-on. I hadn’t realized it until now. His stomach was hard and defined. It’s like he was carved out of stone. His happy trail matching his chest hair. He had to be incredibly strong. The muscles in his arms were large. He towered over me making me feel small. But his face was so soft and kind and gentle. His eyes were crystal blue and so inviting. He had such a warm smile. God I was mesmerized by this man. His voice broke me out of my trance.

“Come here Darling,” he said, pulling me to him again. He pulled at the bottom of my top and leaned in pressing a sweet slow kiss to my lips. “Take this off for me?” He asked. I bit my lip

“mmhmm” I mumbled, taking a step back to take off my top. I dropped it to the floor and looked up at him. His eyes were focused on my chest.

“Fuck” he whispered and licked his lips. His eyes flicked back up to mine. “I could tell you had big tits but, wow” he whistled jokingly and I rolled my eyes and laughed.

“Omg shut up! Says the guy literally built like a Greek God!” Now he was laughing. I stood on my toes kissing him again. I reached my hand between us rubbing over his jeans. He growled against my lips.

“Mm slow down baby, we’ve got all night.” He led me to his couch and pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him. Trust me Im gonna fuck you tonight darling, I’m definitely gonna fuck you.” He started kissing my neck down to my chest and he kissed the top of my breasts. Then he pulled my bra down and took my nipple in his mouth. I moaned, arching into him and he wrapped his arm around my back holding me to him.

“But you’re going to make me beg first,” I teased, biting my lip. He hummed around my breast smirking before biting down and dragging my nipple between his teeth. I gasped and ran my fingers through his hair.

“I love hearing the sounds you make for me,” He moaned as he gave the other breast the same attention. He was driving me crazy. I whimpered softly grinding my hips feeling into his. Trying to get some friction against his now fully hard cock in his jeans.

“Please Henry,” I moaned. as he finally unhooked my bra and tossed it aside. He dug his fingers into my hips keeping me still. I couldn’t help the whine that escaped me.

He kissed back up my chest leaving a chaste little kiss on my lips. Fuck he was such a tease.

“God you’re desperate for it, aren’t you love,” He smirked. “Why don’t you show me how bad you want it,” He nodded toward the floor and I knew exactly what he meant. I slid off his lap and onto my knees in front of him. He stood from the couch and pulled himself from his jeans. Fuck he was big, and already so hard. There was a bead of precum glistening from the tip. If he wanted to tease two could play that game.

I leaned forward and licked the head of his cock smiling up at him sweetly.

“Mm don’t stop now love, we're just getting started.” He moaned cock twitching in his hand as the other hand brushed the hair out of my face and rested on the back of my head.

“You’re just so big, not sure I can handle all of you,” I teased. He chuckled softly running his thumb over my bottom lip.

“You’ve been talking big talk all night baby, I’m sure you can make it fit,” He winked. I blushed but let him guide me forward taking him in my mouth. I hollowed my cheeks bobbing my head slowly. At first only took him halfway and slowly let him hit the back of my throat. He was already moaning for me. Tightening his fingers in my hair guiding me along his cock. “That's it, love, just like that, fuck,” He growled. He pushed my head further down forcing his cock further down my throat. I choked and my eyes started to water but I let him hold me there. I knew it had to feel incredible for him. He pulled me back and I came up gasping for air. He chuckled. “Fuck that’s so sexy. I need more of you.” He held out his hand to help me up and immediately crashed his lips to mine. He bit my bottom lip dragging his teeth across it slowly before finally releasing me.

“Are you gonna fuck me now baby?” I asked shyly gently running my fingers down his chest.

“You’ve more than earned it now darling.” He said kissing me again more gently this time. “But I still wanna please you first.” He smirked bending to pick me up over his shoulder.

“Henry!” I squealed laughing softly. He chuckled and smacked my ass as he carried me to his bedroom. He dropped me gently onto his bed finally ridding himself completely of his jeans and boxers. He gave me one last look asking for permission before stripping me completely as well. He didn’t speak just smiled to himself and started to kiss and grab and feel all over. Kissing my chest and my stomach. Squeezing my breasts. He settled between my legs spreading my thighs kissing and biting at the inside. He slowly made his way up to my core.

“Fucking dripping for me. I could feel it when you were in my lap. So needy.” He ran his fingers through my folds spreading my slick smirking to himself. I whimpered softly unable to take it anymore.

“Fuck please don’t tease me, I need you to touch me. Please, Henry.” I begged. He just smirked. He spread my lips swiping his tongue through my folds. He pulled me closer by my hips and started circling my clit with his tongue. He pulled it between his lips sucking softly and continued to lick. I moaned tossing my head back and my fingers found his curls again. “Oh fuck!” He slipped two fingers into me curving them into me as he continued his assault on my clit.

It wasn’t long before I felt the coil build up in my stomach. “Henry, I’m gonna cum!” I whimpered. He didn’t let up just continued through my orgasm licking up my juices and pulled back with a growl. Kissing his way back up my body.

“God you taste incredible,” He moaned in my ear before flipping me onto my knees on the bed and spreading my thighs. “I need to be inside you.” He groaned, lining himself up with my core running his head through my folds gathering the wetness there. He started to push in slowly. “Such a tight little pussy.” He groaned. “Relax for me, baby.” He leaned down kissing my shoulder as he pushed all the way in. “Such a good girl for me, always so ready for my cock.” he growled. I whimpered. I’d never felt so full. It felt incredible. He finally pulled out slowly and started a rhythm holding onto my hips as he took me from behind. Our moans the sounds of our bodies meeting filling my ears.

“Mm it feels so good,” I moaned pulling at the comforter I could feel my orgasm building again. I started to squeeze around him. Henry pulled out and I whined softly. I heard him chuckle. He flipped me onto my back wrapping my legs around his waist as he shoved himself back into me.

“I need to see your beautiful face when you cum on my cock baby.” He moaned picking up the pace. He was starting to get close too. He kissed my neck and I dug my nails into his back surely to leave scratches there tomorrow as I came undone around him. He growled in my ear as he thrusted a few more times letting go inside me.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He moaned. He kissed all over my face and smiled. “Are you alright darling?” He asked catching his breath

“I’m amazing,” I laughed.

“Fuck yeah you are,” He chuckled. He laid down next to me for a moment pulling me into him. “Just give me a minute,” he breathed.

I knew we were just getting started.

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