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punkshort · 16 days ago

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Boiling Point

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: Dave rescues you.

Warnings: language, physical violence, murder, blood, vomit, degrading terms used towards reader, torture (nothing too crazy but reader gets beat up a lot), SA only mentioned as a question, none occur nor is implied, graphic descriptions of injuries, Dave softens up

WC: 5K

part one for context found here

Collection Masterlist

The first night Dave came to your apartment to find it empty, jealousy twisted in his gut, which bubbled up into white hot anger.

You must have stayed the night with Michael.

The thought ate him alive the entire next day. He took out his frustrations on a boxing training dummy, nearly splitting the thing in two, then went to the shooting range. His aim was all over the place; it was the absolute worst he shot in a long time.

Did he not make himself clear on Friday? Should he had spoken the words out loud? Did bending you over his desk not get his message across?

Dave shrugged it off. He decided to go back to your apartment that night and make sure there was no confusion that time: he wanted you, and he wasn't willing to share.

But when he broke into your apartment for the second night in a row only to find it completely dark and untouched, jealousy didn't burn in his veins. Something else simmered below the surface and his intuition began to kick in.

Something was wrong.

You had told him you hadn't slept with Michael yet. If you did decide to take that next step, you certainly wouldn't be gone the entire weekend. Nobody does that.

Dave closed your door behind him and he began to flick on some lights. He checked your bathroom first, confirming your toothbrush, hair brush, and other essential toiletries were still there. A spark of fear shot down his spine and he swallowed.

Your bedroom looked exactly as he found it yesterday. The same dishes remained in your sink. Dave closed his eyes, wrapped his fingers tightly around the edge of your counter, and focused.

What were you wearing last? A skirt. It sat just above your knee and the material was loose, easy to bunch up-

He rushed back into your bedroom and searched your hamper, growling and slamming the lid shut when your work clothes weren't in there.

Something happened. It was the only logical explaination. His worst fear had come true and his stupidity, his selfishness, was to blame.

Dave took a deep breath. He closed his eyes again, curled his fingers into fists at his side and slowly rolled his neck, back and forth, back and forth, only stopping when the tiny cracks in his joints ceased.

It had been two days. You could be anywhere in two days. But he needed to start somewhere, and that would have to be the place you were last seen.

The office was quiet, as it should be for a Sunday night. He knew from experience the security system in the building was in desperate need of updating that the owners were too cheap to pay for, so breaking inside was simple.

He should have just made his way to the IT department, tapped into what he needed, and left. Instead, he found his feet carrying him to your desk.

Dave stood there for a moment, taking in every little detail. He never allowed himself to do that before. His eyes raked over your potted plant, the black cardigan that hung on the flimsy cubical wall, the coffee mug with a lipstick stain on the rim, a pad of legal paper with your handwriting sloppily scrawled all over... these things were all part of you. As foolish as it seemed, given they were all just things, he couldn't tear himself away. Even though he had been inside your apartment countless times and been inside you just as much, it felt strangely intimate to be in your space. Next to your computer monitor, he saw some framed pictures. You with another girl your age, you with a black dog, you with an older couple; your parents, he assumed. One gloved finger traced slowly over the glass of one of the pictures and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch at your wide smile.

He was about to turn away when he spotted it. A square of hot pink stuck to your desk with blocky handwriting that clearly wasn't yours: meet you in the parking ramp.

Dave's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

He raced across the floor, towards the other end of the building where he vaguely recalled the seating plan. He hurried down the aisles, eyes scanning the nameplates as he went until he slid to a stop in front of Michael's cube.

Dave's jaw tensed as he tried to focus. He was struggling to keep emotion out of what he was doing. He needed to rely on his instincts and push down that sick feeling in his stomach that had the back of his mind wandering, wondering what could be happening to you right at that very moment.

Taking a deep breath in, he shook his head and rolled his shoulders, centering himself. He looked at Michael's cube differently, then. What stood out?

Well, it was strangely bare, for starters. Not very common for someone who had worked there as long as he had. All that hung on the wall was a calendar; a free one that probably came in the mail or he found abandoned by the water cooler. Nothing was written on any of the dates. Dave kept scanning.

A pen and pencil sat perfectly aligned on a blank pad of yellow paper. His keyboard and monitor looked dust free, not a smudge to be found. No pictures. No trinkets. No mugs or plants or notes.

He began to check his cubical drawers. Just extra office supplies filled the top drawer, the second one sat empty, and the third one was... locked.

Quickly, Dave pulled out his tools from his back pocket and in less than a minute, had the drawer open. Unfortunately, what he found made his stomach drop and his blood run cold.

One singular file folder sat inside. Dave flicked it open and his mouth went dry when he saw a picture of you, clearly taken with a telephoto lens, outside of your apartment. He pushed the photo aside and a low sound came from the back of his throat when the second photo was one of a shadowy figure walking up to your apartment building in the middle of the night.

It was a picture of him.

Underneath the file was a pistol with a silencer attached. At that point, Dave wasn't surprised, but it still made his heart thump erratically in his chest at the thought of this motherfucker pressing a gun to the side of your head.

Dave took it, shoved the drawer closed, and began to move.

He didn't need to check the security cameras. He knew what he had to do now. Michael and whoever else he was working with didn't take you far. They didn't want you... they wanted him.

And he was going to give them exactly what they wished for.

You had no idea where you were or how long you had been there. It was dark, cold, and damp. Most of the time, you were alone, strapped to a hard, wooden chair with your wrists bound behind your back by cable ties so tight, it broke your skin already several times over. Each ankle was tied to a leg of the chair with the same restraints. Spiders crawled across your bare legs from time to time but you stopped caring about that a while ago. You were only in the clothes you were wearing when you left work: a skirt and a thin blouse. You were fucking freezing, sometimes shaking so bad your teeth rattled behind the duct tape pressed across your mouth.

Based on how long they had left you alone, the worst happened already. Or at least, you hoped.

After you initially woke up, confused, groggy, and vision swimming from the hit to your head, Michael and two other men you didn't recognize interrogated you. It didn't take long for you to figure out what they wanted. All their questions pertained to Dave. What did he tell you about Akron? Where does he live? What is his schedule? Does he know he's being followed?

He began to hit you after your third I don't know.

You sobbed. You begged. You insisted over and over and over again that Dave never spoke to you about any of the things he did under the cover of night. Yet, they continued to ask.

"What did he tell you about Akron?" Michael's dark voice echoed in your head. It was the fourth time he asked you that question. You squeezed your eyes shut, lower lip trembling. Snot and blood trickled past your lips, bracing for the inevitable.

"I... don't... know... anything about Akron," you whimpered. "I p-promise. We don't t-talk about that... that stuff."

Michael cracked his knuckles before cocking his fist and punching you hard across the cheekbone. Stars burst behind your eyelids and you screamed. You screamed and screamed and screamed for help until you lost your voice.

"You really expect us to believe you've been fucking him this long and you never learned anything about him?" Michael scoffed. You hung your head low, and blood trailed down your tear soaked cheek. "You can't be that pathetic, Jesus Christ. I hope he's at least paying you to ride his dick."

"Is he?" another man asked. You shook your head and kept your eyes squeezed shut. "Is he paying you? Or do you just whore yourself out to anyone for the fun of it?"

"N-no," you stammered softly. "He's not paying me."

It went on like that for the first day. They let you rest, gave you time to think. Maybe they expected you to come to your senses and tell them something you didn't know. Then they came back, interrogated you again, hit you, spit on you, kicked you and called you every name in the book.

By the end of the first day, you hardly felt a thing. Their words no longer stung and your body was too worked over to feel much more pain.

Your jaw ached, one eye was swollen, and your head fucking pounded so hard, it was making you sick. At least they allowed you to throw up before taping your mouth shut.

They hadn't come back in a while. You drifted in and out of sleep, body jolting awake when you heard the floorboards creak above your head. A basement. You must be in a basement.

It was hard to stay awake, but you did the best you could. At first, you tried to focus your eyes on the darkness around you. You wished you had been more coherent when they had the light on, but you were panicking. You could only fixate on their faces, on their fists, and you blocked everything else out.

Fuck it, you thought. It was impossible to see shit. Instead, you tested your restraints. You whimpered in pain the second you tugged on your wrists, but thankfully the sound was muffled by the duct tape. The hard plastic dug into the cuts in your skin, and the pain burned so badly it brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Okay. Arms were out of the question.

Your ankles didn't hurt as bad, so you strained against the cable ties with all your might, but they simply wouldn't budge. Taking a second to catch your breath and let the new pain in your ankles ease, you considered your options, which were... sparse.

The one and only thing that might have been in your favor was the chair: it was wooden, and by the creaky sounds it made when you moved, you had a feeling it was old. Maybe you could break it, break the legs free so you could run. You began to test your theory, tilting back and forth in the seat as you listened to the groan of the wood underneath you. The seat itself felt thin, as well. If you had enough strength, you believed you could lean forward and bring yourself back down as hard as you could on the concrete, smashing the legs of the chair and freeing your lower half to run.

You wouldn't be very fast, though. You were weak and you were fairly certain you had a few broken ribs, at least. But maybe if you had an adrenaline boost and the timing was right...

Shit. It was your only option.

You weren't sure when your best chance for escape would present itself, so in an effort to kill some time and give yourself a little bit of hope, you practiced. You knew you had to slam the chair down as hard as possible when the time came, so you took a few deep breaths before leaning forward in your chair a few inches, testing your broken body. You did that over and over again in between breaks, and each time you bent forward further.

Eventually, you got too tired and gave up. But before you did, you made pretty good progress. Despite the pain in your side, you could lean forward about halfway to the ground.

It would do. It would have to.

Something woke you, and it wasn't the squeaky floorboards above your head. It was something louder, more urgent. So you sat there in the darkness, waiting, listening, the only sound filling the room was the quick exhale through your nose.

Then, you heard it again. A gun shot, then a loud thud.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your heart rate spiked and your breath grew uneven. Instinctually, you tugged again on your wrists, only to be met with a searing pain deep in your flesh from the ties.

Another gun shot. Another thud. Now - shouting.

You closed your eyes and swallowed, throat dry and rough from screaming and lack of food or water. Focus. Use the burst of adrenaline in your veins and do what you planned to do.

You leaned forward, whining a little at the pain in your side, and clenched your aching jaw.

One, two...

You slammed the chair down as hard as you could, but it remained intact. Fuck.

Footsteps ran across the floorboards above you and you expected the worst, but nobody swung open the door. They were running in a different direction.

You grit your teeth and tried again.

Bend forward, steady, and... slam.

A crack of wood, finally. But it wasn't enough.

More shouting above you and more gunfire, only this time, it sounded closer.

Panic seized your chest but you had a job to do. You had to try to fucking live.

One more time, you gathered everything you had, brought yourself forward and then practically threw yourself backwards with all your weight.

The chair splintered beneath you, legs shattering just as you wanted. You fell onto your side, the side that was injured, and you cried out from behind the tape.

You allowed yourself one or two moments to gather yourself. Whatever was happening above you was the distraction you needed to make your escape. Nobody was coming down the stairs, nobody was listening to you.

This was your only chance.

You stumbled to your feet, gasping and panting from the searing pain. You needed more air, the duct tape needed to come off. In a state of panic, you started to rub your cheek against your shoulder, trying to roll the duct tape off your skin. Above you, the shouting got louder and the gunshots got closer. You kept hearing heavy thuds hitting the floorboards and you realized it sounded like bodies.

The duct tape was almost rolled to the corner of your mouth but you paused, confused. What was happening up there?

Another gunshot now, and it sounded directly fucking above you. It snapped you out of your stupor and you started working twice as hard to get the duct tape off. You managed to get it halfway peeled off your lips, finally allowing you to take deeper breaths.

Your eyes closed in relief at the oxygen filling your lungs. But they snapped back open again when you heard someone fiddling with the lock at the top of the stairs.

You still couldn't see, you had nowhere to hide. They would come downstairs and find you in the middle of escaping and they would fucking kill you.

So you took a risk. You moved as fast as you could while stifling your cries of pain. Turning around, you used your fingers, which were still tied behind your back, to search the area, hoping to find a wall or a table or fucking anything you could hide behind.

The door opened above you. A beam of light broke through the darkness, illuminating the stairs.

The stairs.

You hurried as quietly as possible and crouched underneath the stairs, holding your breath while whoever it was carefully yet purposefully descended. Your heart galloped wildly behind your ribs as you watched a narrow beam of light sweep the open area. It didn't reach you, though. They couldn't see you from the bottom of the steps.

What the hell were you going to do? Run? Attack? Scream?

All three sounded like you'd end up right back where you started.

However, you refused to go down without a fight. The chair had sharp edges where the legs broke off. When your captor got close, you would turn around and race forward, hopefully stabbing them with the wood.

It was risky but it was your only plan.

Then, the person called your name. It was indescribable, really, the feeling you had when you heard his voice. Relief, happiness, hope... every word felt so small to the way you felt when you heard Dave's voice.

You were safe. You weren't going to die. He found you and he saved you.

A broken sob bubbled up from your throat and the narrow beam of light whipped in your direction.

Dave hurried over and gathered you up in his arms. He repeatedly told you that you were going to be alright, then begrudgingly let go. You couldn't see his face and the way it twisted with anguish when he saw your state because he held his flashlight between his teeth. The brightness made you wince. You hadn't seen light in over a day and it really fucking hurt, but you just kept your eyes closed while he cut away the cable ties. The rest of the chair fell to the floor unceremoniously, freeing you.

"Can you walk?" you remembered him asking. You nodded, keeping your eyes closed. Your head still pounded and everything hurt, but it was over now.

One of his gloved hands tucked itself into your armpit, holding you upright and helping you climb the stairs. By the time you reached the top, you could tolerate squinting.

You didn't recognize the house you were in, but it appeared abandoned. It was in ruins, completely run down, and the windows were broken, but you couldn't be sure if they always had been broken or if that happened once Dave arrived.

"Don't look," his steady voice came from beside you. He lead you through the dilapidated living room, where bodies littered the floor, covered in blood, brain matter, and bone shards. You closed your eyes again, trusting Dave to get you out of there, and he did.

Only once you heard and felt gravel crunching under your shoes did you open your eyes. It was still dark outside, but it was boarding on dawn. The sky was a dark blue and birds were beginning to wake.

"My car's too far," he murmured, "and we gotta move fast before anyone sees us. Can I carry you?"

You nodded and bit back a sob. Nothing on earth sounded better in that moment.

Everything after that was hazy. You must have fallen asleep once the adrenaline wore off because when you awoke, you were tucked into a huge bed you didn't recognize. The comforter was pitch black, the sheets stark white. Were you in a hotel?

Then you let your eyes roam. Expensive looking art adorned the walls, mostly modern looking pieces. Splashes of bright colors and harsh angles filled the canvases, the images depicting a mixture of chaos and peace.

A flat screen television was mounted on the wall across from you, and right below it was a long, sleek dresser. If you turned your head, you would have noticed the end tables matched. A large looking bathroom was attached to the bedroom, and a walk-in closet next to it.

You weren't in a hotel room. You were in someone's home.

Outside, you could hear a school bus screeching to a stop, the exhaust puffing out air before the doors squeaked open. Children laughed and mothers called out their farewells before the engine roared to life and the bus chugged on down the street.

Once the outside noise disappeared, you could hear two voices talking softly below you. A man and a woman. Dave, you confirmed with relief when the voices grew closer as they climbed the stairs. Your eyes locked onto the door, watching silently as the doorknob turned.

Dave entered first. You saw the relief in his face when he noticed you were awake, then worry. You must have looked horrible because he rushed forward, looking helpless. It was a new look for him.

"Hey," he breathed, kneeling down on the floor next to the bed. His eyes scanned your face, the only part of you that was exposed by the comforter. He swallowed tightly. "I got a doctor here, someone I trust," he looked over his shoulder and your eyes followed. A middle aged woman with dark hair lingered in the doorway. When your gaze met, she gave you a warm, reassuring smile. Then Dave turned back to you. "Are you okay with her examining you?"

Slowly, you nodded. Dave exhaled through his nose and pressed his lips together tightly before pushing himself up to stand. "I'll be just outside-"

You made a little noise and he stopped dead in his tracks. He studied your face for a second before asking, "Do you want me to stay?"

When you nodded, he took a step back and leaned against the wall between the bathroom and closet, allowing the doctor to enter. She introduced herself while she opened up a big case of supplies on the floor next to the bed. Doctor Larson, but you can call me Marcia, she had said while she snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

With your permission, she peeled back your covers. At some point, Dave must have gotten rid of your dirty, torn up clothes. You were just in your bra and underwear, which made it a lot easier for Marcia to assess your injuries. She asked if you had any allergies, asked where it hurt the most, and when she realized you had just been communicating with shakes of your head and pointing, asked if you could speak.

You parted your cracked, dry lips and you managed a garbled not really. You touched your throat and Marcia had you open your mouth as wide as you could to peer inside with a little flashlight pen. Across the room, Dave's shoulders sagged when Marcia announced, "She's got some damage to her vocal cords, I don't see any bruising from strangulation. Most likely a side effect from yelling."

Dave closed his eyes tight, dropped his chin to his chest, and crossed his arms without saying a word.

Marcia tried to stick to yes and no questions for the rest of the exam while calling out your injuries as she found them. The good news was your ribs were bruised, not broken. The bad news was it would hurt like a motherfucker for a few weeks. Your teeth were all in tact but you had some lacerations on the inside of your cheeks, tongue and lips, likely from your teeth tearing the soft flesh every time you took a hit.

Marcia bandaged everything she could, wrapped your ribs tight to help with the bruising, and worked on your wrists and ankles last. Overall, she told you that you were very lucky, that most of your injuries would heal on their own over the next several weeks. When she was done tending to the obvious wounds, she sat back on her heels and gave you a solemn look before asking, "Was there any sexual assault?"

Dave stopped breathing from his place against the wall, and when you firmly shook your head no, he allowed himself a deep, shaky breath.

Marcia asked if there was anything else you wanted her to take a look at and again, you shook your head no. She covered you back up and left you with a few orange bottles of pills next to the bed after scribbling down some instructions on a piece of stationary and handing it to Dave. He folded it in half and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans and it was around that point when you realized Dave intended on taking care of you for the foreseeable future.

He told you he would be right back, that he was going to walk Marcia out and bring you back something to eat and drink, and you just nodded. They left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind them, leaving you all alone once again.

Dave returned a while later with some water and soup on a tray. You smiled a little when you saw the plain white ceramic bowl filled with what had to have been canned soup he found somewhere in his pantry. There was something adorable about the thought of him rustling around in his kitchen, trying to find something for you to eat.

"Here," he said, setting it on the foot of the bed. He dropped a grocery bag of toiletries that he was holding in his other hand so he could reach forward and help you sit up. "You should eat. You need your strength."

You nodded and reached for the spoon with a shaky, bandaged hand. Dave clocked the tremble in your hand and he stopped you.

"I got you."

Three simple words that held so much weight it nearly had you tearing up. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the spoon for you. He blew on the steaming soup until he felt it was cool enough, then carefully held it to your bruised lips. You took a tentative sip and looked him in the eye with a small smile, confirming it was good. He fed you in relative silence, taking his time with each spoonful and wiping the corner of your mouth with a napkin until the bowl was empty. The warmth from the broth soothed your throat and Dave's gentleness soothed your pain.

"Think you can take some pills?" he asked after he set the bowl back onto the tray. He pulled out the instructions Marcia left him, then studied the pill bottles.

"Yes," you rasped. His eyes flickered up to you when he heard your voice crack.

"Don't strain-"

You reached an arm out to him, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He froze, staring down at your hand, at the fresh bandages around your own wrists, and swallowed thickly.

"I'm sorry," Dave whispered brokenly. The emotion flickering across his face had the breath catching in your throat. Much of your relationship with Dave was surface level. While you suspected he cared for you, whether he admitted it or not, he always hid it from view. He didn't spend the night and he always remained partially clothed, two lines he drew in the sand early on. A boundary you understood and respected, regardless of how either of you truly felt underneath. So to have him sitting next to you fighting back tears while he apologized over and over had you momentarily stunned.

Your throat, while the soup did help a little, was still raw. You wanted to assuage his guilt, tell him it wasn't his fault, that he tried to protect you and you were going to be fine, but unfortunately you couldn't say that much in your condition. Instead, you cupped his jaw, pulling his shameful gaze from his lap and onto your face. Leaning forward, you tenderly brushed your lips over his before whispering, "You saved me."

It seems like enough. At least, for now. His shoulders dropped and he pressed his forehead to yours with a sigh. His hand gently wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you there, just breathing and letting all the unspoken words be said with a touch or a kiss. It strangely felt like the most intimate thing you ever shared with Dave, and it left a warm feeling blooming in your chest.

He removed the dishes just to come back, ridding himself of his shirt and jeans, and slipping under the covers next to you. He carefully curved his body around yours, being mindful of your bruised ribs, and held you close, allowing you to soak up the heat rolling off his bare chest pressed against your back.

"There's just one thing," Dave said, sounding a little uneasy. Your eyelids flickered open, sensing an undertone of distress.

"Hm?"

Dave cleared his throat before telling you, "Michael... he got away."

Your eyes widened in fear and as if he sensed it, his arms flexed a little tighter around you.

"Don't worry. I'm taking care of it," he assured you, "but until then, you gotta stay here."

You nodded, muscles still tense with worry. Dave pressed kisses to your shoulder, doing his best to settle you down. Your fingers reached for his under the covers and you wound them together nervously, your heart stuttering violently in your chest.

"I promise, baby," he murmured into your skin, "I'm gonna find him... and I'm gonna kill him."

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#dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #the equalizer 2 fanfic #the equalizer #hitman collection

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xerotiny · 11 months ago

Text

2 AM Call // Our Precious #1

2 AM Call (Our Precious series #1)

M.list ┃Next Part

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Warning: dom!yunho, sub!reader, suggestive, sexting, phone sex, a lot of dirty talk (seriously, really filthy), masturbating, etc...

Note: if any of the above-mentioned topics trigger you then you can click off. :) also, do not proceed if you're below 18.

An Extra Note: this is a mini - or - a long series, and I'm too lazy to make a different book for it. Hence, I'll be adding all the planned/written chapters of this series in this book. It'll be in second person pov, but instead of writing [y/n] — cause I'm too lazy, really — I'll be writing Angel. So, the reader's name is Angel for this series. This series revolves around polygamy, which means the reader will be involved with ot8; the chapters will unfold slowly from the beginning and follow a storyline.

Gist: being in your sophomore year of college, you meet a very cute and handsome bookstore clerk. You happen to exchange numbers and on the same night, he's all you can think about. When you decide to ring him up, it's 2 AM and both of you have different things on your minds.

Word Count: 5,471

Lehninger.

Albert Lehninger.

Principles of Biochemistry.

You grumble under your breath, shifting your eyes chaotically around the shelves of hardcover books aligned in alphabetical order. The wooden shelves feature biochemistry books, and out of all these, you needed only one, which apparently was too hard for your eyes to search. Scorching sun outside is far less preferable than the air conditioning of the second-hand bookstore you were in, so you decide to stay in and pass a few more minutes looking through the books.

Maybe, you could find something worthwhile in store, perhaps something other than textbooks and thesis unrelated to your university work. Sighing, you bend over slightly to grasp the titles inscribed on the spines of several other books.

"It could be here, maybe." you thought to yourself.

"Hi, how can I help you?" a cheery yet raspy voice cuts through your thoughts, "are you looking for a specific book?"

Your attention turns towards the humbly speaking man, and once your gaze falls onto him, and his smile, you hold your breath. He was...ethereal; clad in a beige coloured cardigan and a white turtleneck under it, the man's demeanour was stoic and poised yet friendly and warm. Towering over and looking down at your petite stature, he smiles widely, politely waiting for you to reply. You take a minute longer to stare and notice all finer details on his face; his porcelain skin, pretty pink lips, a straight nose—almost sculpted, and his innocently shaped doe eyes just boring into yours.

There it goes without saying, you were drooling over him. He was attractive, no doubt, but the way he offered you a benign smile made your heart lurch a bit was far more beguiling than his looks. In all seriousness, it had been more than a minute or two since you had been silently checking him out; you had failed to notice the heap of books he was holding in his arms before, but now that you do, you mentally groan at his bulging arms with prominent veins on the back of his hands.

"Hello—"

"—yeah, no. I mean, I was actually looking for...Lehninger—um, biochemistry?" you stutter and ramble, lastly stringing your words into a question.

"Oh, wait. Give me a minute, I'll check it in our database." Carrying the books in his hands, he nudges you to follow him with a nod.

You do cluelessly follow him but enjoy the view of his rear; you really needed to snap out of it! He guides you to the front desk where the cash register was situated, and a computer was stowed away on the other side of it. Thump the books go, having been put down on the desk by him before he leans over the computer to type. Standing on the other side of the desk, you watch him do the work, with your arms folded over your chest.

In the heat of the moment, you're reeling back to checking him out; silverbluish hair styled in a mullet, the puffy strands kissing the collar of his turtleneck, his eyelashes batting every two seconds at the blaring computer screen—you bite down on your lip when libidinous thoughts swarm your mind. His hands, those sleek fingers pressing down the keys on keyboard...how good would those feel as they're pumping in and out of your cunt.

"Oh, okay. Got it!" he squeals softly, turning to you, "looks like we've got one copy of the sixth edition. Would that be alright?"

You flinch, snapping from your thoughts and realising you really needed to get laid, at least to get your mind straight.

"Ah," you take some time to comprehend his words, "sure. I don't mind, to be honest. Only need it as a reference for my assignment."

"You could've issued this book at the university library, why didn't you?" he asks, stepping out from the counter and guiding you back to the wooden shelves.

You look at your feet, stumbling behind him, unsure of what to say. "I believe it's better to have a personal copy instead of issuing it from the library since I'm going to need till my senior year. Couldn't afford a new one, so I thought why not invest in a second-hand."

He heaves out a gentle chuckle, halting his steps in front of a shelf. "That's fair. So, Horizon University?"

"Yeah," you mumble. "Got a scholarship and everything...how did you..."

"It's the only university close by, and I'm in my senior year there, well, at the end of it—only one more month left till I graduate." he starts rummaging through the racks in the shelf to find your book. "Dance major."

"Sophomore year here, zoology major." he hums, looking at you and pulls out a thick book from the shelf. You continue in a hushed voice, "I've still got two years left in that hellhole."

"You don't like the university?" he questions, as a matter of factly.

"No. Not really. Not that I know I can't make friends for fucks sake," you state.

"You haven't met the right kind of people yet, it's fine. You will soon." he flashes you a toothy grin. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, I'm good." you whisper, "I'll hopefully vibe with someone soon, can't be alone all the time."

"Like I said, you will. Hang in there," he reassures you with his smile going deep in his cheeks, "I'll ring this up for you, come on."

By the cash register, you pay the respective amount while he puts the book in a paper bag having the store's name printed on top of it.

As he hands you the bag, he chimes, "there you go."

You take the bag in your hands, but don't leave just yet; you didn't want to leave him. Drawn to his charismatic presence, you stay behind for a long second. You're staring into each other's eyes, intently lingering onto the disguised inklings in either of your minds. The space around you seems so suffocating, heavy and laden with thick air. In the pit of your stomach, there's an urge you want to act on, you want to tear your gaze away from him and continue on with the rest of your day.

But you can't.

And your heart doesn't want to, thinking there's a possibility of you engaging with him on a romantic level.

From the corner of your eye, you watch his lips twitch into a tiny smile; he scurries his hand on the desk and pulls out one of the store's business cards. He has a sharpie ready on him, and scribbles something on the back of the card.

"Just in case, here's my number. Give me a call, or a text. Would like to hang out with you some time," he slides the cards across the desk to you, "I'm Yunho, by the way."

You take the card and slip it in the pocket of your dress; yes, you wore a clingy summer dress with pockets because pockets are a lifesaver.

"My name's Angel."

"I look forward to hearing from you, Angel."

And you did find something better in there, other than books.

The day rolls by as smoothly as it should, after leaving the bookstore you make your way back to your dorm room in the university to keep the book in your room and grab your laptop as you decide to spend the rest of your morning in the campus cafe. Musty notes of coffee linger in the air while you save Yunho's contact into your phone and work a little on your assignment. All your lectures, you whiled the time thinking about Yunho—his face, his voice, his fingers, his body—you were starting to realise how reprehensibly had this man taken up every fraction of your mind.

You weren't complaining, though. But it was proving to be very distracting amidst your lectures. Coming back to your dorm room, lethargic from the humdrum day of lectures and practical work, you lay in your bed. Mindlessly, you pick your phone and go through your socials, especially Yunho's. He has to have an Instagram page at least. And to your surprise, he does. You come across a public account with few of his photos. You didn't get to see much of him however, as the photos were mostly of him either looking away from the camera or hiding his face behind his hands. Heaving an exasperated sigh, you lock your phone and go on about the rest of your day.

As night dawns in, you're back in your bed after eating dinner. You've done all of your nightly routine and are freshly showered. You wear a dark brown cardigan over your black lingerie; really not in the mood to change into sleepwear because of the buzzing heat of summer. Again, mindless thoughts pop in your head and you grab your phone to check any texts from your nonexistent friends. It's not like you didn't have any friends, you didn't prefer to make friends—regardless, you did have one friend in the entirety of your university. He was a bunny-eyed man with deep brown hair, and a baby yet stoic face; Choi Jongho. But you spoke to him occasionally and only interacted when needed to.

Opening the messaging app on your phone, you almost make sure to have a double take when you see Yunho's name at the top with very recent messages from him. Yep. It was him. You checked it twice only to be sure and it was his contact number. Stifling a squeal, you open your chats.

Yunho: Hey! Just wanted to make sure you got to your dorm room safely. And how's that book working out for you?

[Sent 22:39 pm Read 1:06 am]

So, he needed an excuse to text you. How adorable.

You: Hi Aren't you quick to text me? ^^ It's alright. And... The book makes me want to hit my head against a wall.

[Sent 1:07 am Read 1:07 am]

Yunho: Ouch :( I have no idea what works in biochemistry. Sadly. But hang in there! And ofc Thought I'd keep you company since you're a loner.

[Sent 1:09 am Read 1:10 am]

You: I have friends, mister!

[Sent 1:10 am Read 1:12 am]

Yunho: Yeah You do Imaginary friends don't count.

[Sent 1:12 am Read 1:13 am]

You: I do have a friend! Don't underestimate me.

[Sent 1:14 am Read 1:15 am]

Yunho: "a" friend I'm not tbh But who's this friend?

[Sent 1:16 am Read 1:17 am]

You: He's in my department We've got couple of classes together

[Sent 1:17 am Read 1:18 am]

Yunho: well then I'll let you talk to him

[Sent 1:19 am Read 1:19 am]

You felt a pang of pain bubble in your chest, but your mind couldn't figure out why you were hurting over his response.

You: Why do you sound mad?

[Sent 1:19 am Read 1:35 am]

Yunho: I'm not :)

[Sent 1:35 am Read 1:36 am]

You: k.

You roll your eyes and blink away the weirdness. Now, your silly anguish had been replaced with anger and frustration. In fact, you wondered why you felt so silly about this ordeal when he was the one to initiate texting you. They say men have a golden rule of texting, that is, they'd wait three days until texting. But it turns out Yunho was little too eager to talk to you. Shaking your head, you sit up straight in your bed and puff your cheeks. Your eyes glaze over your reflection in the full-length mirror in front of your closet.

An idea sparks your curiosity, and you smirk to yourself. Bringing your phone back in your hand, you angle it at a specific point to get your entire body in the frame. You take a mirror selfie, perched by the edge of the bed, your cardigan loosely hanging over your shoulder to expose your lingerie and a good amount of your cleavage, your hair flowing down on one side of your shoulder, and your eyes remain emotionless. Having no perceivable clue of your behaviour, you slump yourself back in bed and purposely send the picture to Yunho. You wait for a minute to pass when you text him back.

You: *sent attachment*

You: Oh god! Didn't meant to send it to you. Can you delete it, please?

[Sent 1:45 Read 1:45]

Yunho: Oh ... Well I saw it. And it's only fair if you... *sent attachment*

[Sent 1:46 Read 1:47]

You feel the buzz in your head, upon checking out the attachment he sent you. Thinking it'd be a normal photo, you didn't pay too much attention to it, but maybe you should have, and you did exactly at your second take of the photo. It was him, obviously; he was sitting in a gaming chair, legs widespread, wearing his loose sweatpants under a haze of dim lights of his room. One of his hands held his phone as he clicked the picture, while the other palmed his crotch. And then you saw it, his boner, protruding from the sweatpants. You mentally tried to gauge his size by the pronounced outline on his pants. And you were impressed.

The heaviness in your head grows when you notice his sly smirk in the photo, and the bulging veins on both of his hands; he wanted to rile you up, just the way you did. Though, if there could be a difference, you did it out of spite and he was doing it to get back to you. Squeezing your thighs together, you tried to control your urges, the same stupefying urges you got when you saw him in the bookstore this morning. The suppression of your desire leads to you heaving out a deep breath, wanting to get back at him for ruining your peace with that photo.

You: someone's all worked up. what were you thinking about?

[Sent 1:50 am Read 1:51 am]

Yunho: Just something Or someone

[Sent 1:51 am Read 1:52 am]

You: I wouldn't mind taking a peek in your head ;)

[Sent 1:53 Read 1:53]

Yunho: Do you really want to know what I'm thinking about?

[Sent 1:54 Read 1:55]

You: Yes Unless you don't want to.

[Sent 1:56 Read 1:57]

Yunho: I'd be the one to ask you that Are you sure you want to know?

[Sent 1:57 Read 1:58]

For some reason you could picture him with a conceited smile on his face, still sitting on the chair and his legs wide apart while he rubs his cock through his sweats.

You: You like teasing don't you?

Yunho: Oh I love it

You: I'll tell you what. I've been thinking about you since the morning

Yunho: Hmm Likewise I've been thinking about all the things I'd do to you if you were here with me

You: and what would you do?

You draw in a sharp breath, chest heaving up and down when your mind fogs with the thoughts of him doing filthy things to you.

Yunho: For the starters... I'd gently kiss your lips While ripping the buttons off your sweater Taking it off Letting my hands roam your body

Reading his texts, you pull at the buttons on your sweater, one by one and eventually shrugging it off from your body. You tremble slightly as you proceed to text him with one hand.

You: Go on...

Yunho: I'd pin you to the bed Make sure your hands are above your head Kiss you so hungrily. use my hands to feel all of you. And take off whatever that's remaining on your body Id tease you a hell a lot Fukc Ferl your bdy shuddre under mine when I drg my fingerss down to yor wet pussy Pusj my fingers deep in you knuckles feep Make you mewl as my fingers pumped in and out ... Fuck I want you so bad

That was the point of no return for you, you were deeply invested in this game, in this stupid act of desperation where all you could think about was his texts. It brings your colourful imagination to mind, visualising his texts as you rub your fingers on your now-aroused cunt through your dripping wet panties. you noticed the typos in his texts, probably from him typing with his one hand while his other remained busy.

Taking a deep breath, you rest against the headboard of your bed, your legs spread a little to make it easier for your hands to rub you. You bite your lip, thinking more of him, thinking of his sleek fingers sawing you out while he's knuckles deep in your cunt.

You: I want you too So so bad I want your fingers in me I want you to loosen me up nice for your cock to pound into me

You finally decide to push your panties to the side, while ghosting your fingers over your clit before you let them submerge in your heat. Your arousal coats your fingers as they slick back and forth, at a steady pace, in your cunt. Your mind is already long gone to the end where you were only yearning for him to make you feel good. Noticing how your phone hadn't buzzed for a long time, you shift your attention to it and instead of his texts, you see him calling you. Hesitation knocks at your door, but you're too far gone from rationality to think about it. As you answer his call and press your phone to your ear, you hear his ragged breathing. It brushes your ear and tickles you, springing up goosebumps on your skin, as though he was right next to you in your bed.

"You really know how to make a man all worked up, don't you?" he hisses, "don't worry, princess. I'll make you feel good."

You take in another deep breath through your mouth, bringing your fingers out of your cunt. Hovering them over your chest, you push the cups of your bra down and grope your breasts; you pinch your nipples, fondle and knead your tits to get yourself in the mood. He doesn't know about it, but your fantasies run wild—with him as he fills his hands with your tits, groping and fondling them, maybe even more.

"What is my Angel doing right now? Are you touching yourself at the thought of me pinning you down to the bed and fucking you relentlessly?" he asks, and your mind pictures it word to word.

"Yes. I want you to—I want you to fuck me foolish—make me—make me see stars—while—while your cock rams into me..." you stutter, struggling to strip yourself out of your lingerie.

"Pretty filthy thoughts for a beautiful face like yours, Angel." His tone is teasing as he continues, "wanting a stranger you just met to do all these vile things to you...you're a cum-slut aren't you?"

Dirty talk was never your cup of tea, it made you cringe internally but there was something about Yunho's deep and sultry voice that made you wet, insanely wet. You bite your lip, conscience half gone to the sound of his trembling breathing, and rub your clit—the sensation only brings butterflies in your stomach, because in your mind those were his fingers and not yours. In your mind everything you did to yourself was replaced with him, and it was enough to get you started.

Biting back on a moan, you reply, "yeah...I want you to—I want you to do all the vile stuff to me."

You hear certain shuffling in the background alongside a long pause and then, your ears catch up on his soft little grunts. Nothing prepared your imagination for what you were thinking; him in his bed or just in his gaming chair, with his cock out, stroking himself at the thought of you.

"Your—your wish is my command," he growls, his deep voice resonating in your ear, "would love to finger your tight little cunt, drawing out these pretty moans from your mouth..."

You slide one finger down your slit, and eventually ease it in your hole; it brought discomfort at first, a little, but when you started moving it deep within you, you felt your walls clench slightly around it.

"Fuck...yes, I want you to spread—spread me open with your fingers."

He did not need to know that you were fingering yourself, your voiceless grunts and whispers were enough for him to imagine it. Picturing you plunge your fingers into your cunt, he increases the pace of his hand stroking his cock; though, he keeps himself steady. He couldn't really help himself and gradually increases the rhythm of his movements.

"Add another finger, baby." he mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning back against his chair.

You oblige, adding another finger in your hole.

"How does it feel?"

"Good—feels good, Yunho." You mewl his name, scissoring your fingers inside of you.

"You're doing great, princess. Now, curl your fingers..." he manages to squeak out in a whisper, pumping his cock with busy motions.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically to your moans, and you do as he says; curling your fingers inside you, you feel a certain warmth lingering in your stomach. You were getting close to your climax, without even having to anything more—the knot strikes a jolt of tightness in the pit of your stomach, and you moan out loud. Really loud.

"I want you to feel me, Yunho." you breathe out, aroused. "I want to feel you too—feel your cock sliding in and out of me—fucking me good with it."

"Oh baby," he goes silent for a second, focused on stroking himself, "I'll fuck you good—I'll fuck you till you're begging for me to stop..."

"Ah fuck," you arch your back off the mattress, trying to chase your high.

Your fingers plunge in and out, increasing tension in your stomach and gut; your tightness was gradually easing up, and so you decide to insert another finger in. The stretch stung, however, pleasurable, making you whimper his name out loud.

"Yunho...!"

"Yes, baby, I know." he winces in diversion. "Hold on a little longer, I'm close—I'm close too."

He breathes out, increasing the pace of his hand; his cock slick with his precum and it spreads along the shaft as he continues to pump himself. You could hear the strain in his voice, indicating you, he indeed was close to his own climax; you were too, knowing your fingers were hitting your sweet spot every time they thrusted in you. Keeping your phone on loudspeaker, you set it on the nightstand and use your other hand to rub your clit. You increase the pace of your fingers, flesh squelching, your juices lightly lapping against your fingers—the knot tightens delicately in your stomach as your tempo remains constant.

Yunho bucks his hips into hands, composing himself as he thrusts his cock into his hand, thinking about your tight cunt. He has a colourful mind too, picturing himself rocking his hips so that his cock hits all of your deepest parts. His lungs convulse, fighting the urge to moan but it breaks out of his lips anyway. He moans your name, shaking and struggling to hold his phone next to his ear—he does the same as you, sets his phone aside while keeping it on speaker.

"Such a dirty little slut, fingering herself to the thought of my cock thrusting into her," his voice gives you a push, fuels your soul with the fire it lacked. In retrospect, he needed something too, to tip him off his edge as he fucked his hand. "Fuck...needs my cock to make her happy..."

"Yes, please," you cry, tears rolling down the side of your face as your fingers do their work.

Your high was approaching you, so close, almost there. The limit to hold it in was past the point, he could say something and you would be riding down your orgasm—you needed him, his voice, his words. On the other hand, Yunho's patience was running thin, he wanted to finish it off—feeling the warmth of his hand pushing him to his edge, he smirks to himself and throws his head back.

"Are you close, princess? Cause I am..." he grunts.

You nod your head, pursing your lips together to make a gentle sound of humming. You didn't realise it yet, but you were bucking your hips to your fingers, letting them curl and slip in deep inside you; grinding your hips against your fingers, you let out a satisfied groan—the tightness in the pit of your stomach comes undone. Rummaging your hand to hold the headboard behind you, you brace yourself as your high washes over you with a vehement intensity. You let our shaky breaths, well beyond being breathless, as your fingers slowly make their way out of your heat. Your chest rises and falls, tremors spread under your skin with your juices dripping down your inner thighs.

"Fuck, princess..."

His groan is a little static, coming from your phone as it leaves your imagination to run wild. You picture him slumped in his chair with his load spurting out to stain his lower abdomen and clothes. In reality, Yunho breathes through his mouth, letting it fall agape when his high comes crashing down onto him. He had never felt such rush of satisfaction by only indulging himself with you on call; he had never felt himself cumming so hard for anyone with any real action, but here he was, panting and shaking, stroking off his climax as he grimaced at his hand full of his cum.

There's a long moment of silence between you two, and in that silence, the post-orgasm clarity sinks deep within you. The thought of you being so indecent with a man you met in the morning, not even knowing him for more than a day, brought some coherence to your mind. Though, the best is to let it go and keep it in your bounds of inadvertent thrills of late night.

Your body feels languid, and tired; wondering the same for him.

"That was..."

"It happened in the moment," Yunho breathlessly pronounces, "we're just two strangers who have nothing to do with each other, right?"

"Well..."

You sit straighter in your bed, staring at your phone as you bite your lip; you were waiting for him to speak.

"Well what?" he mumbles, a sly smile stretching his lips.

"I thought...never mind. I'm way over in my head." You shrug it off, pulling the sheets over your body as the embarrassment drowned you out. "It's fine, we'll pretend this never happened."

"What? Are you crazy?" his voice is much clear now, with the obvious tone of bewilderment. "Gosh, Angel. You don't know how hard I came for you. I can't pretend this never happened; instead, I wouldn't mind giving us..."

He trails, dragging his words in a whisper with hopes of you completing him. "...giving us a try, like just keeping our relationship exclusive to sex?"

"If you're down for it." he mumbles, "I don't want to do anything that you're uncomfortable with."

"I'll think about it."

You smiled to yourself, thinking about that possibility. When the sun rose to a new day, you found yourself pondering. Not exactly in the 'deep venture' of it, but you just kept your mind busy with Yunho's proposal and thought of the consequences if you were to ever agree to it. Friends with benefits with a soon-to-graduate hot senior? That sounds tempting, a lot, it also fuels your infatuation with him. But on the other hand, you didn't want to go down that road with him. There were second thoughts in your mind, of course there'd be—you maybe, sort of, liked this man, after all, he does give off the vibes that he'd be a great boyfriend. You didn't want to ruin that possibility with him.

The rest of your day goes as scheduled, you attend a few of your lectures in the morning. Currently, it's afternoon and you have last of your classes to attend. Amidst all the excitement and stress, your friend, Jongho texts you, asking you to get him your lab-coat for his practical class. You find him standing in front the chemistry department, smiling and engaged in a chatter with someone else. And upon noticing it from afar, the person who he was talking to was Yunho. It was such a contrast, both were happy-go-lucky kind of guys, but Jongho seemed more innocent than Yunho (after the night you had spent with him, it was hard to picture him being anything but innocent). You could make it out from his tall built, and silver-bluish hair styled in a mullet, regardless with his back facing you. Hesitation stricken, you somehow manage to make your way to him; because Jongho had already noticed you even before you turn around and run away.

"There she is!" Jongho glees, and Yunho turns around, meeting your eyes. "Thank you so much for bringing it, I really despise prof. Yuen when he gets all judgmental about 'forgetting' to bring a lab-coat to his practical class."

"Hey, no worries," you smile at him, handing him your lab-coat. "I have his practical class day after tomorrow, till then the coat is yours." You laugh it off, awkwardly glancing at Yunho.

Jongho notices the out-of-ordinary ogles you made at Yunho, chiming in, "oh right, Angel, this is Yunho. I live with him and six other guys. But that's not important and ummm.." he looks at Yunho, scratching the back of his neck, "she's Angel, my only friend in this university."

Yunho smiles warmly at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he does. "Oh so, it's her you can't stop chattering about?" he chuckles lightly, "and what do you mean 'your only friend' aren't we your friends too?"

Jongho rolls his eyes, "you guys are nothing but a pain in the ass. Just today, in the morning Wooyoung and San drank all the milk and kept empty containers back in the refrigerator. I had to crunch on cereals before heading out for my morning classes."

"So, are you tainting all others because of those two individuals?" Yunho retorts.

You purse your lips together, ineptly crossing your eyes between them; you were aware of Jongho's living condition, but you could have never expected Yunho to be one of his flatmates. It was true, Jongho lived with seven other guys from the university, some of them having a full time job, and at times he would complain about them to you. Though you never really focused too much on what he had to say, or even catch their names.

"Uhhh..." you trail, offering them a tight lipped smile.

"Angel, come on, back me up." Jongho grumbles.

"I can't say anything about your flatmates, Jongho." The chestnut-haired man rolls his eyes, and you continue, "but I've always listened to your rants."

"I bet you're a good listener, Angel." Yunho taunts you, "and an even better friend to him."

"She is," Jongho breaks out in a smile. "Hey, you should totally come over on Thursday. We've got a game night planned."

"Uh, Jongho, I don't think I'd want to play board games with eight guys." You mutter under your breath.

"Who said we play board games?" Yunho says, drawing his brows together. "Though, it'll be fun for a while, having a girl over."

"Yes, Angel. You should consider it. Just—just think about it okay?" the enthusiasm in Jongho's voice isn't hard to ignore. "Now, I've got a class, so I'll see you in a bit."

With that he disappears, leaving you and Yunho stranded alone with nothing to talk about or a lot to talk about.

"What a lovely coincidence," Yunho begins, smiling at you, "the girl he talked about was you all along; well, he painted a pretty picture of you in our heads."

"I see Jongho as anything but more than a friend." you pout, "and this game night, should I even consider coming?"

"Well, it depends on you, princess," he smirks, "it depends on whether or not you could keep your hands to yourself. Because I'll be there."

"Oh, don't put yourself on a high pedestal, mister." You roll your eyes, "I'll think about it."

"Don't you have a lot to think about already?" he steps closer to you, towering over you as he leans close to your ear, "I don't think I can go on without touching you for the entire time you'd be there, so really do think about it."

He straightens up and mumbles one last time before leaving you completely high and dry.

"And if you do come, I will really fuck you senseless."

Next Part ┃ M.list

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #smut

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asteiioss · 1 year ago

Text

The One With The Proposal

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!OC

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), slight BDSM (use of cuffs), delayed orgasm, P in V sex, unprotected sex (people pls be safe), creampie, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Well... Okay. There's a few things you need to know about this piece of work you're about to read. This is actually a part of my series that I'm writing on Wattpad. I will put the link below in case you want to read the whole thing. It's not finished, I'm still writing it. This chapter, however, can be a standalone and can be viewed as a one-shot, so I decided to post it here, too. I wish you an enjoyable reading. Oh, and this is not read through, so if you find some mistakes, pretend that you didn't.

Wattpad acc link: here

Spencer Reid. A man known for several things. His knowledge. A brilliant man, whom the FBI owes many thanks. Uncountable cases that he helped solve that would probably stay unsolved without him. His blabbering. He had a whole paragraph ready to shout out on anything you say. The sky? Fun fact... The book you're looking at? Fun fact, the author actually... A specific person who's dead or alive or never surfaced for something they did? Fun fact about them...

You will never see him wear anything outside of professional clothes. Comfortable professional clothes. Sweaters, cardigans. He sometimes reminds me of older women who wrap themselves in their cardigans. You will never hear him swear. Not in public, anyway. The most he said once was goddamn it. The entire team was left in shock. Penelope was even scared of him that day.

He will stutter in conversations and situations that make him even slightly uncomfortable. He has a germ thing. He never shakes hands or hugs with random people. He makes contact with his friends, me, and some close people like his mother, Diane.

Now put all that into an image and try to picture that man. A shy, uncomfortable, boyish man. Stuck reading books when he has free time. No, no. He cancels plans to stay indoors and read books. Even re-read them.

That same man proposed to me half an hour ago. It was small, intimate, and sentimental. We walked by the restaurant where we confessed we loved each other. He let my hand go and I took a few steps ahead. When I turned back, he was down on one knee and held a small box in his hands.

I said yes.

I said yes more than once.

He was the sweetest man. He was mine. I loved to be loved by him. Delicate, heartwarming, caring and sweet. The man I just described above.

That same man was driving us home at the moment, his dick hard, bulging in his pants, one hand or the wheel, the other deep in my cunt while curving his knuckles at a new angle as he fucked me.

Every person has two sides.

And boy, oh boy, did I love his other side.

Everything anyone knew about Spencer, they would say he would be a sweet, whiney, submissive man during intimacy. I beg to differ.

His fingers twirling inside me, I huff as I refuse to moan just yet. I hated the way he could make me fold so, so easily. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. My mouth is open and I can't hold in pleads from him. His fingers are long. I love his fingers. But his cock is bigger.

He pulls into our parking space and he removes his hand from under my dress. He walks out and comes around to open my door. I begin to come out when he stops me, picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. I yelp, feeling almost powerless. He slams the door and locks the car and continues to carry me up almost three flights of stairs. The apartment door flies open before we go in. He closes it with his leg and heads directly to our bedroom.

I can't help but blush. I felt like a tiny girl. How disgusting that the tiny girl imagined all the things he would do to her in a few moments. He slides me down and steps back to look at me. His eyes scan me, from the smallest hair on the top of my head all the way down to my toes. There's a devilish desire in his eyes, his mouth parted ever so slightly. His eyes come back to mine and he, almost growling, says, "I kneeled for you, now go ahead and kneel for me."

Tingles run down my entire body. I don't hesitate to obligate his request. Not a request. He demanded. And I wasn't going to defy this. I wasn't going to defy him. Not breaking eye contact, I slide down on my knees, perfectly aligned with his belt. I look ahead, seeing him painfully hard in his pants. I slide my hands up his legs and start undoing his pants. Every clank makes me tingle between my legs.

There was a specific time when a powerful, strong and independent woman only wants, no, only needs to be told what to do. I raised myself from nothing. No one helped me. I could only thank myself for everything I have accomplished in my life. I would listen to no man. No man had the power over me. No man could take nothing from me. Except him. He had all of me wrapped around his little finger.

And I didn't mind.

Being submissive to someone means so much more then people think. It means trust. It means love. Truth be told, not every submissive person tends to be like that in everyday life. Don't get me wrong, I know what comes to mind when you think of someone like that. Porn taught us so wrongly. And this? This was so much more intimate then just porn. This was desire, lust, and pure neediness.

After undoing his belt, I pulled down his pants, tugging his underwear to, removing them to. I would skip everything just to feel him. Being released from his clothes was hitting him sweetly as he took a sharp breath when my eyes fell to his dick.

I look up, almost lustful, maybe waiting for him to tell me to touch him, maybe even to beg me, a whole 180 to what I just described myself as. His eyes were dark and watching me from a high. He simply smirked, almost reading my mind and what was going through it.

"Go on," he half whispered, voice deep just like the darkness around us, "be the slut the outside world has no idea you are."

And that was all it took. My hand takes his base before I stick out my tongue and slide it up his entire length. There was a lot of length. He inhales, pushing a groan down his throat at the first touch I plant on him.

This was going to be a long night.

The kiss I leave at his tip as I start stroking him with my hand sends his head falling back. The motion pushes his curls off of his forehead. I loved when his hair fell on his face. It made him look messy. It made him look more flustered. And the image of him like that made me throb between my legs.

After enough slow-play, I stick out my tongue and take him in my mouth, slowly, reaching as far as I could before I feel him touch my throat. He feels he reached far and he groans. The funny thing is I had taken only half of him. He looks down again, his hairs flying back to his face. His fingers twist around in my hair and tug slightly, almost like he was checking the grip he had on my head.

But I soon found out it wasn't the grip why I thought he wanted it. He held my head in place as he started to rock back and forth. He was using me. Using my mouth to be precise. And he started fucking it. At first it was slow, almost shallow thrusts, reaching where he first did. But as time passed, he became more fierce. He started going deeper, hitting the back of my throat with more force making me gag. My eyes started to water as I had no control over anything. His hand held my head in place as he now almost pounded into my mouth.

As he continued, I could feel him twitch on the top of my mouth. And so did I. I felt my panties dampen with every second that passed. I was horny because my boyfriend, my fiancé, was fucking my throat like it was just something for him to use.

Muffled moans and occasional groans escaped his mouth. He was about to finish. I could easily tell by the increased speed of his thrusts and their force. Finally, he pushed himself almost the whole way, deep into my throat and let himself release there. I gagged pretty hard, trying to keep him down and not throw out his cum.

He pulled himself out and let go of his grip on my hair. His hand slid from behind to my chin and he lifted my face up. He was taking deep and long breaths, his chest falling and rising every time. His eyes scanned me, a fucked mouth, watery eyes and bright red cheeks. Must have been quite a sight.

"Swallow, baby." he said and left his mouth slightly opened, watching as the small bulb went down my throat and he smiled in satisfaction. "Good girl. Your turn."

He bent down and picked me up to carry me to the bed. Back facing the mattress, he climbed on top and roughly kissed me. I loved when he did that. After what I just did, he didn't hesitate to kiss me. He didn't get disgusted to do so. His fingers hooked around the hem of my dress and he pulled it off in one quick motion. I was left in my bra and panties that were already soaking wet. Every time he saw me like that, dressed but not dressed, I'd get shy.

I never liked my body. And yet he worshipped it.

"God, you're so gorgeous." he hovered over me, his eyes trailing over every inch of my body. I shivered from his words that sounded like a prayer. It was half whispers. Like he was afraid that if someone heard what he had, it would be stolen from him.

His lips come down and start kissing my neck, my weak spot. Just the warmth of his kiss makes me moan, eager for more as I buck my hips up towards him. I feel that I caress his cock against my thigh, and as soon as he feels it, he pushes my hips down with his hands.

"Needy, are we?" he chuckles against my skin as he now slowly moves lower and leaves a trail of kisses at my collarbone.

"I hate when you do this." I whine, my fingers roaming through his hair.

"You hate when I kiss you?" he says between kisses, one on my shoulder, one at the base of my neck, one directly in between my breasts.

"No, I-" my words get interrupted when I moan. I feel him smile when he hears me. "I hate when you make me wait. You tease. Every time." I take a deep breath in between every sentence to take in his kisses. As much as I did hate the delay of the actual sex, I loved feeling him everywhere. I didn't know what I wanted more.

He continues kissing, his lips reaching my stomach and he stops. I look down to see him slightly smirking as he is settled just between my legs. I feel shivers. He lets go of my hips and slowly pulls down my panties, sliding his fingers down along my legs in the process. He is continuing to tease me with every touch he leaves on my body.

When I finally think that he is going to stick his tongue at my cunt, I am yet again met with disappointment. He comes over me and trails his hands, slowly, around my back as he keeps looking me in the eyes to catch every whiney face I make as I plead him to fuck me already using no words. But he knows. Oh, he knows that's what I'm asking of him.

He unhooks my bra and I am completely naked. His shirt comes off as he makes us even. Again, I hope that he will now go down. It doesn't have to be his mouth, I'll be happy if he would just stick his fucking fingers into my pussy and rummage through it. But, no. He bends down and kisses my breasts, moving from one to the other. Kissing it, sucking on the nipples, squeezing them with his hands.

If he was kissing and/or sucking the right he would be squeezing the left. There was no space left for me to catch a breath. Then, he bit down on one, just enough to make me squeal. He chuckled with my tit in his mouth. I had enough. I gripped his hair and pulled him up to my face.

"What do you fucking want from me?" I say with a whiney voice. I sounded desperate. I hated it. I loved it, too.

His face had a drunk smile across it. He was enjoying this. My torture was satisfaction for him. Fucking great. "I want you to beg." he said through a whisper. His head was tilted back as I was pulling his hair.

I hated to beg him. Especially to do what I wanted. I knew he knows what I want, but he loves when he makes me break and I have nothing left but to fucking beg him to do the most unholy things to me.

I roll my eyes. "No." I simply say.

He smirks and bucks his hips so his dick slides over my dripping cunt. My entire body arches and he smiles again. "Beg, my love. Use that mouth for something else then a place for me to dump my cum."

That mother fucker. "You assh-" he bucks his hips again and breaks me mid-sentence. I growl at him.

"I don't think that's how begging works. C'mon. Beg me to fuck you. I know you want to."

It was weird hearing him swear. Not just swear, but use vulgar words in general. I used them everyday. It was like saying 'hi' to someone. But Spencer? Noup.

I gave up. I close my eyes and just make peace with my fate. "Please, Spencer."

He bends down and kisses my lips. "You have to be specific, my love. What do you want from me?"

I'm boiling at this point. Do I have a choice? If I want to be fucked, not really. "I want you to fuck me, please me, make me cum. I'm fucking tired of being teased." I practically cry out the last part.

He smirks and I let go of my grip on his hair. He doesn't move, he is still looking me directly in the eyes as he slides one hand down and caresses my inner thigh. He goes over my cunt with his entire hand and I loudly gasp. He watches, enjoys the reactions he gets as he touches me. He brings his hand up and licks his two fingers and then slides them down again.

Baby, you don't need no more moisture, I'm wet enough.

His hand finally connects to my core and he starts making circles around my clit. My body erupts. I no longer have control over my reactions. My eyebrows furrow, my mouth is wide open and it's letting out moans, whines, sounds I didn't even know I could make. And he simply watches. From time to time he would bend down and kiss my neck, maybe even bite down on it, making me buck my entire body up.

"God, you're so fucking wet." he says and starts rubbing up and down my entrance. "You're so pretty. My pretty girl."

I'm melting. Melting into his sinister hands that are touching me in the most horrid ways. And I wouldn't stop him even in a million fucking years.

He slides the fingers in, gently, slowly, caringly. I let out a loud moan, slapping my mouth after I do. Just as I did, his other hand takes my wrist and pulls it off. Holding it, he collects my other hand and pins both of them above my head. "Why would you do that?" he asks. But I don't answer, it's a rhetorical question. "You sound so beautiful when you moan for me. You sound so pretty."

His knuckles are now buried deep inside my pussy and he starts to pump them in and out. When he slides them back in, his thumb hits my clit and he curls his fingers inside just enough to hit that little spot. Every movement he made was followed by that wet sound. I just knew his fingers were drowning in my arousal, and I just knew he was so eager to put his cock inside there too.

He kisses my jaw, my neck, my cheeks. He is enjoying this. Pleasuring someone you truly love is pleasure to you as well. His other hand in on my thigh, pulling it away so he has better access and can slide in deeper then he usually could. In between my own sounds, I can hear him groan whenever I jerk my hips upward and slightly stoke him against my leg.

I want more. Now, I'm just desperate because I don't want to finish now. I want to cum over his cock while he is buried all the way inside. I want him to see that little blub in my stomach appear and disappear as he fucks me.

Like on cue, as if he heard me, he pulls his hand away and climbs the bed again. Pushing my legs fully apart, he aligns himself at my entrance. He pushes, but purposefully jerks himself up so he slides against my clit. I see him place himself on my abdomen as if he is looking how far he goes when he's inside.

"Look at how deep I can bury myself in you, love." he admires and glides his fingers over my skin. He pulls back and leans over to the drawer next to our bed. For a moment he rummages through it. "Shit."

I look over, trying to figure out what was going on. "What is it?"

He pauses and looks at me. "We don't have any condoms."

Well shit.

But I put on my big girl face. "And?"

He looks slightly surprised by my reaction. "No protection?"

I shrug. "What's the worst that can happen?" I smirk, moving myself lower on the bed and connecting myself with him. He really was hard.

He says nothing and just enters. He pushes in with quite a bit of force. I let out a quiet scream at his motion. I still needed time to adjust to his length. But he didn't care. He was already in full force, starting to pick up the pace of his thrusts. His hands go down and wrap around my hips and he uses them to pull me on himself as he continues to pound me.

The room is filled with my whines and moans, the sounds of our hips connecting and slamming against each other, and his groans. I love when he groans. I know he feels good. I make him feel good.

"You're so tight. It's so warm inside." he says through rough groans.

His fingers are diving inside the skin of my hips. I feel pain as he squeezes them. I push the feeling away, I even don't have to. The feeling of his dick hitting my deepest point is strong enough to push it away almost instantly.

The repetitive slamming into me lures my finish to approach. It's forming in my gut and I feel it slowly coming as he continues fucking me mercilessly, rough and fast thrusts.

"I'm gonna cum- Oh, God, Spence." I saw, although I'm not sure how I managed to.

Just as I said that, I felt my climax get at its highest point, and I was about to finish-

He pulls out.

What the fuck?!

"Wha- what are you doing?" I stutter, the high still in the air but it's fading away.

He looks down and has a wicked smile on his face. His cheeks are deep red and his hair is damp from his sweat. "I'm not done with you. Turn around."

I'm mad. Furious. I want to defy him so badly, I want to say 'no', maybe even flip him off. But I want to finish. I was just about to. So I do as I'm told. I prompt myself up and turn around and stand on all fours on the bed. Might I add that this is my favorite position.

I expect him to align himself again and continue to thrust like he did, but he gets off the bed and walks over to the corner of the room. The corner where he keeps his bag for work. I hear a clank before he walks back behind me. He places his hand on my upper back and slightly pushes, indicating for me to lower myself even more. My face and chest lay on the mattress. My ass is now the only thing in the air.

This position gives him more access. I am ready for it to hurt before I can adjust myself to his length again at this angle. Yet again, I don't get what I'm expecting. He takes my wrist and places it behind my back, then the other and connects it with my other one. I hear that clank again. He takes one of my wrists again and puts the metal around it.

It's his fucking cuffs.

He puts his cuffs on and thugs on the chain between them to pull my arms back. He pulls so much that I have to lift myself slightly off the bed. I tremble. Out of excitement. Our of slight fear. Out of horniness, simply.

I feel him bend down and kiss my back. He knows I love that. It feels very intimate to me. He kisses down my spine and then slaps my ass. I yelp, not just by the sudden contact, but also because he slapped it pretty hardly. Not enough to leave a bruise, but it will definitely go red in a few seconds.

"You ready?"

There are certain points in our sex life when he asks, or even simply warns to hold on tight to anything. Since I was obviously restrained, he's asking. That is enough to know this was going to be really good.

"Yeah." I whisper, my face buried back into our bed.

"You know I love you, right?" he whispers again and pushes his tip into my cunt.

My breath trembles since I was still sensitive from the high I missed a few minutes ago. "I know."

"Good. Because for the next few minutes it might not look like I do."

He didn't give me time to respond. He slammed himself inside, making me scream out. This was enough for the neighbors to hear. He started thrusting. I still wasn't adjusted to this position, and his cock was hitting from a new angle that allowed much better access. I felt pain. But, God, was it good. My eyes started watering from the pain as I couldn't take it. I prayed that my pussy would stretch just slightly so I could take him a bit easier.

After a short while, I did. The slight pain was still there. It couldn't really go away from the force he was driving himself in. And then it happened. He slapped my ass again. It was a strong slap. His hand was big enough to cover my entire cheek. I yelp at the sudden pain.

As he continues to thrust, I feel him occasionally twitch. That can mean only one thing. He is about to cum again. Just when I realize that, he speeds up. He pulls on the cuffs and makes me get up from the bed. He's pulling hard enough to hold me in the air.

He hits again, going back to squeeze after. I feel the slight burn of his slaps. Another one connects to my skin and with it I feel that high again. I don't want it to escape again, so I bend slightly so he feels me letting him slide even deeper.

Spencer quickly realizes what I'm trying to tell him, but there's not much left before I feel him hammer himself once, then again, just as I feel my climax release. I scream out, and I feel him empty himself inside.

It takes him a few seconds to calm down before he lets me fall down on the bed again. I'm a fucking mess. He takes off the cuffs and places my hands on my sides before he bends down and removes my hair from the back of my neck and kisses in that spot.

"My perfect girl." he cooed. "You're so fucking special."

I breathe deeply. "Well..." I begin as he lays down next to me. "That was fun." I feel his cum drip down out of my cunt.

He chortles. "That's one way to put it."

I was about to marry this man. I loved every inch of him. Every version there was of him. There was nothing that could take that away from me.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid prompt

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 8 months ago

Text

cumulus / nephos / “cloud” / ☁️

[plain text: cumulus / nephos / “cloud” / ☁️ cloud emoji]

[id: pastel fem looking person in pastel manual wheelchair looking down to slug in lap. there also slug on head n slug slide down skirt (don’t ask how). (all color pastel). person hair pink bangs, purple side hair, & blue low loose pigtails go below hips. purple eyes & medium-light ish skin. wearing bright turquoise ish color shirt collar with pink ruffles, & white shirt body with blue ruffles decorate, n green long sleeve cardigan over it also with ruffles. rainbow midi above knee skirt with white ruffles overflow from side of wheelchair. wear mismatch stockings, person’s left side rainbow stripes, n person right side turquoise blue with clouds on it. person not wearing shoes.

their wheelchair has yellow headrest, teal stroller push handle, green contoured backrest with supportive panels on two side lateral, teal to blue transition arm rest, orange big wheels with rainbow windmill candy swirl as cover & red push rim. frame is turquoise blue gradient to pink, has dump/slant, with yellow slug on one side’s turning point. purple fat caster wheels. attach to backrest is big white angel wings, & above arm rest has glowing yellow halo. their AAC device floating by them, has turquoise blue case with white cloud patterns. is saying “slug” icon. border of art lined with rainbow gradient lace. end id]

☁️.

(otherwise known as hate names terrible at decision)

VERY pastel n rainbow overload >:)

they level 3 autistic (“requiring very substantial support”) with high support needs—meaning they cannot independently do most adaptive functioning skills, needing other people physical help to do/do for them. they also need 24/7 supervision & physical help for all iADLs & bADLs.

they nonverbal & use AAC full time. their AAC is symbol based speech generating device.

their (most likely [<haven’t decided] partner who act as their) disability caretaker is hyacinthos shinya🪻🌌.

they also full time non-ambulatory wheelchair user with very specific posture & seating positioning needs so not out of it for long or really much at all.

angel wing on back of wheelchair is power assist! is magically powered by hyacinthos (who angel) & can be powered even remotely / far away. way control wheelchair & power assist part by intuitive / hand motions & gestures / etc, part by halo hover above armrest that act as joystick. can use it like traditional joystick or wear as bracelet n control that way! (gimme it i want one) (if you recognize this setting it may be because previous version)

they do mix of self propel, power assist, & caregiver push. their wheelchair have stroller style push handle instead traditional push handle for easier caregiver push, especially one handed.

is set in magical world & they do some magic (< haven’t decided]!

character not slug obsessed, artist the slug obsessed one

character sheet below cut!!

artfight character profile (VERY wip)

please do feel free draw them (with credit) n tag me!!!!!!

reblog welcome but please don’t repost

will fight you if debate about autism levels & support needs

hi under cut

[character sheet. functionally described below]

top left is full character clothing (with wheelchair translucent in background) because in original there some key parts blocked by wheelchair especially arm rest.

skirt around waist have purple band with blue small ruffles. center have rainbow bow with rainbow star on top.

n also have front n back of AAC device. what drawn here is 5x7 grid with various colored squares showing different parts of speech but grid size more so because like. is how much could fit comfortably. so even when redraw n isn’t exact 5x7 with colors exactly right where is right now, is okay. colors & where they are based on own AAC device >:) because of course

design of aac device case basically same as above. back side just have bigger clouds. oh also device has handles. tho it float around so handles get used less. float around so don’t have worry about how to carry it how to mount on wheelchair etc etc etc it follows you it automatic come to your hand when you wanna say something (kinda also acting as prompting bc sometimes think about say something but don’t actually say in device) it get out way when you don’t want it. if only like this irl lol

bottom left is info about character already said

bottom right is wheelchair design

parts covered up by person: rainbow gradient side guard, blue contoured cushion.

n also drawing of back of backrest: when not in use, wings power assist shrink to small decoration on back. not big there all time.

also have stickers! sticker of nessie, banana slug, sheep, cloud, star, rainbow, & an AAC symbol of “AAC”

wheelchair may also have magical tilt & recline & elevate. how? don’t know!!! why not just make full powerchair? uhhhh like manual chair look better

n picture of irl windmill candy

border of art also rainbow gradient lace.

yea that all please draw them 🥲

praise me put lots work into them

pls be nice to them

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naffeclipse · 7 months ago

Text

One Soul to Another

Reader x Mermaid!Eclipse

Commission Info

I absolutely loved writing this darling hurt/comfort fic centered on Vanessa and Mer!Eclipse from In Deep Dreams Between the Waves for @counterbalance! The unlikely pair getting to connect while Y/N feels so much for their dear friend and dear mer is delightful.

Content Warning for mentions of death/violence/being eaten alive/mind control.

———

The Rustbucket II floats gently along a calm ocean as the dawn waits to spread rosy-tinged fingers over the horizon and lighten the darkness of the salty waves splashing softly against the side of your boat. In the cabin, you stir gradually, still caught between dreams and the black depths filled with stars where you spend your nights with your giant mer.

A calm warmth fills your heart. The beautiful weight of Eclipse’s presence sits tenderly within you, and you swear his fingers still curve softly around you, cradling you close to his chest. His bioluminescence glows behind your eyelids with the strong, orange light of a bonfire. His soft warbles and purrs fall against you but distantly, held at arm’s length by your waking consciousness.

Eclipse?

He withdrew from you softly, setting you back into your sleeping mind like he was tucking you into bed. You blink slowly, your eyelids weighed down with sleep. He doesn’t often leave you so early. He looks forward to your shared dreams the most.

Slowly gliding your hand over the thin coverlet, you push yourself up on your bed, supporting yourself on your elbows as you force your eyes to focus on the gray-dark light touching the ocean. It’s still so dark. A cool mist hangs in the air. The smell of seaspray clings tightly to your senses. Working up your alertness, you slip your bare feet over the creaking floors of the cabin and softly slip towards the doors leading to the deck. The glass windows are slightly stained with ocean water and you mentally jot down a note to clean those when you return to shore.

Peering out onto the deck, you find a very beautiful, rare sight.

Vanessa. Her arms are folded, leaning against the handrails with her blonde hair outside of her usual ponytail. It’s gotten longer. It falls over her shoulders and down her back. Bangs fall into her eyes from what little of her face you see. A thick-knitted cardigan of cream warms her against the early morning chill.

Just beyond her, nestled in the water with his head above the surface, is Eclipse. The leviathan hides his great size just below. His lithe four arms are the length of ships and his long, serpentine tail is dark and beautifully frilled.

His eyes don't shift you, his brilliant yellow colors set entirely on your dear friend, but a gentle pulse ripples through your heart.

Hello, seashell.

You silently hide in the shadow of the cabin, unwilling to disturb this moment for Vanessa. She hardly ever wants to see Eclipse. He reminds her too much of the vicious mer who took hold of her and compelled her into his horrid bidding.

She has nightmares of his song, but she didn’t last night. You would have heard her screams.

The softest sounds of Vanessa’s voice slip through the calm ocean air. You quietly hold your breath.

“I don’t know how they found you,” she says softly. Her hands nervously knit one over the other, wringing and twisting her fingers. She hardly lifts her eyes to look at Eclipse. He’s trying very hard, you realize, to make himself small and non-threatening for her.

He warbles a low sound, sending ripples across the settled ocean surface. The slightest twitch of her brow follows.

You lean closer against the door, your ear pricking towards her. Maybe you shouldn’t listen in. Vanessa might have told you much but she hasn’t told you everything. Now that she speaks to Eclipse, you can’t help but wonder if this might be therapeutic, a way to help undo some of the damage done by Glitch.

“There must be a difference between a mer meeting a human when the mer is small and when they’re grown.” Her head bows deeper. “Do mers grow up without a human and decide to sink their ships, just because they can?”

Eclipse shifts in the slightest, his brilliant arrangement of frills crowning his head in bright oranges and yellows sweeping in a soft, comforting gesture. His attention remains on her. A soft note slips from him. A soothing sound you so often hear when a terrible dread creeps over you and you feel the wet walls of Glitch’s stomach closing in around you again.

Her eyes still don’t stray from him. A confusing need to calm her sweeps through you. You stand silently, hugging your arms in the quiet dawn-gray light.

“I don’t know why a bad one found me. Why did he choose me?” Vanessa’s voice wobbles wetly. You almost step closer, to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Eclipse rumbles gently. The sound seems to wash over Vanessa like a wave of sea foam. Slowly, she reaches up and touches her face, smearing something wet while clearing her throat.

A radiance of patience and compassion fills you. The distant echo falling from Eclipse brims you with a warmth like sunlight dappling a watery surface. You shift and squeeze your hands together. You so often admire your mer in his wonderful care for you. Now you witness it for Vanessa.

She swallows thickly.

“I think about it sometimes,” she says so quietly you almost don’t catch her words. “If he hadn’t chosen me, I would be dead like the rest of them. He would have eaten me alive.”

A tide of rage flows into your heart, not your own, but Eclipses. A shudder overtakes you. Closing your eyes briefly, you clench your teeth and breathe deeply, focusing on the wooden frame of the cabin and the soft creaking sounds of your boat.

Glitch is dead. Eclipse ripped him apart.

“But he did choose me,” she says quietly, haunted. “I’m alive.”

A low warble leaves Eclipse. He bobs along the surface and catches her gaze.

On the smallest ray of sunlight filling the horizon, you watch a tear drop into the salt of the sea off of Vanessa’s face. Her fingers clench, twisting in her cardigan sleeves. A rattling breath leaves her.

“He terrifies me still,” she whispers to Eclipse. “I think he’s hiding in my dreams, waiting to come back.”

A soft rumble leaves the giant mer. Eclipse slips the smallest bit closer, sending small waves out from his movement and splashing quietly against the boat. He softly parts his lips, keeping his teeth well hidden while singing a gentle note. A confirmation.

You feel his memory as if it were your own hands. One reached down into the gullet of the leviathan to find you and pull you free, and the other two pried Glitch’s jaw wider and wider until muscle and sinew ripped and bones cracked. Until the water turned red with blood. And he held you safe in his hands, your tiny body sinking into the safety of his grasp.

He’s dead.

Vanessa lifts her eyes to him. Her bottom lip trembles.

He cannot hurt you anymore.

You breathe out softly and clutch your heart. You wish Vanessa could hear his voice.

“I know,” she says, as if she did. She hunches lower along the handrails. Even when you were at her side in the time she couldn’t sleep and feared a singing voice, she never looked so small. Perhaps you are too used to her watching over you. She looked out for you when you were younger, always taller and wiser. Now you see her for the fragile state she remains in. Your heart squeezes within you.

A gentle wave of warmth seeps over your shoulders. You breathe again.

“I had no control.” Vanessa squeezes her hands into fists until the skin over her knuckles stretches white. “He forced me to lead every single soul to their death. I was burning. Resisting him was agony like he was going to cleave my soul from my body. I could never tell him no.”

She drags the heel of her hand into her cheek, eyes squeezed shut. Eclipse stays quiet, waiting until she can breathe again. You furl and unfurl your fingers but force yourself to be as patient as Eclipse. He knows what he’s doing.

“His song still lives in my head. When it gets too quiet, I hear it again. I think he’s back.” She trembles where she stands. Her hair falls around her shoulders and you wish to sweep it back to see her face and tell her it’s alright. Glitch is gone.

“When I was face to face with him,” she stops and bites her bottom lip. Another tear fell down her face, “I was nothing. He could have crushed me. He could have speared me with one of his claws. I could do nothing to stop him.”

A wretched sob leaves her. Horror rips from her teeth. The breath drags out of her throat and you start, your heart breaking in the echo of her sound. Tears threaten to swell within your own eyes. No. You have to be strong for her now.

She doesn’t deserve this. She is as innocent as the ones Glitch killed.

Water softly sloshes down below. Vanessa stills. Rising to the handrails, one of Eclipse’s hands holds steady. He reaches the back of one crooked finger for Vanessa but leaves distance between true contact. Vanessa steps back once. Slick brine falls away from his skin and back into the water, dripping from his claws. Eclipse holds her gaze, steady despite the slightly bobbing boat.

Her body is rigid, taunt like a prey animal about to race from a predator. Low, coaxing sounds fall from Eclipse’s mouth as he keeps his head below. Vanessa has the choice. He will not force it but a will of simmering need to comfort one so afflicted by Glitch, just like you, heats his very heart.

You touch your chest softly. You’re here, too. It’s okay.

In silent awe, you watch Vanessa ball up her hands and step closer. As slow as the rising sun now sending sharp rays of light across the sea, she loosens her fist and slowly, cautiously, sets her hand on one of Eclipse’s knuckles. He softly hums and warbles in encouragement. Vanessa stares. She still shakes—you fear she might fall apart and dissolve into another panic attack—but she breathes. Her shoulders heave. Carefully, she looks Eclipse in the eye.

A great swirl of pride opens within you, shared equally by you and your mer.

“You’re so big,” Vanessa mutters, far away, as if she can’t quite wrap her mind around it. Or perhaps, she’s thinking of another mer entirely. Her eyes fall below the water. “But you can be gentle.”

Yes.

Eclipse shifts his gaze to you for the briefest moment. Your smile tugs on the corner of your lips. He chirrs gently before Vanessa looks up, and holds the leviathan's gaze once more.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I tried to kill you when I found you with them. You were small then, even smaller than them.”

He grumbles and trills, his grin splitting across his features as if he were allowing the incident to pass like water under a bridge.

She weeps once, her back shaking. She bows low and holds tight to Eclipse’s fingers and releases what you imagine to be a great flood of anguish over what’s been done. What Glitch did to her.

A whirlpool of revolt and hatred begins. The seaspray of Eclipse’s fury towards Glitch is a storm threatening to swallow all that draws near its spinning mouth. You lean deeper against the cabin door frame and brace yourself.

Wild visions cut across your vision, filled with violence and righteous anger. A soul bond is sacred. To take a human is to share a mer’s very being with them. The dreams, the pain, the love of a mer, anchored to a little human soul. To defile such a bond, to use it for mayhem and death is unforgivable.

Eclipse’s tail flicks below. A few gurgles of water flip and Vanessa stiffens in the slightest, her eyes straying to the movement. You feel the cords of his being tightened into control. The refusal to startle Vanessa just as he closed the distance between them, and listened to her woes. His frills lower and his arms calm, holding carefully still once more.

He can be gentle.

It is wrong what Glitch did. It is unfathomable to your giant mer, and you love him more for it.

You recall asking him if he would ever do such a thing to you. You were almost washed away by his revolt and disgust for such a notion, and you were stunned. You realized your error in even asking.

No, Eclipse could never do such a thing to you. You look at Vanessa. She didn’t deserve it.

It’s alright, you soothe inwardly, brushing against his own heart. She’s safe. No mer will ever hurt her again.

A great rumble of agreement joins your thoughts. Vanessa slowly takes her hand back and wipes the slickness sticking to her skin on her cardigan.

“Thank you,” she says at last. Her voice is small and weak, almost crackling with emotion. “If it wasn't for you and them…”

She rubs a hand over her face, pressing down on her eyes as if to shove the alternative out of her very mind.

“I don’t want to think about it too much,” she concludes. Her hand lowers and she offers a rare, small smile to Eclipse. “Thank you. For being good to them.”

Eclipse yearns to tell her more, to flick his fins and tell her all that Glitch did is wrong, but he can only warble. Gratitude softly blossoms within you.

You’ll make sure to tell Vanessa for him.

Using the back of her hand, Vanessa wipes her face and smears tears over her cheeks until the new sunlight shines on her skin. It will dry soon enough. A deep breath echoes softly as she fills her lungs and lifts her face towards the sky streaked with the pale light of dawn. Relief, you think, paints her eyes a softer green.

Eclipse lowers his hand with a gentle gloop of water as it falls below the surface. He turns his attention fully to you. His stunning frills catch the yellow light and brighten it. His eyes glow gently as he holds your gaze. Vanessa slowly turns to find you standing there. Her shoulders push back. She exhales a rattling breath.

“Did Eclipse wake you?” she asks in a thick voice.

“No. I just heard your voice,” you offer gently.

Stepping quietly, you cross the deck. Her smile is wet but real.

You open your arms for an embrace. She accepts, falling into you with her hands hooking around you tightly as if you were a lifesaver at sea. You gather her together and hold her tight.

Eclipse watches you both. His soft trills echo before Vanessa pulls away and wipes her face one last time.

“I’ll start some tea,” she says.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a moment,” you nod. The tiny kitchenette in your cabin is nothing grand, but it will do well enough to get a pot of tea going.

You let her go, slowly leaning back against the handrails as she disappears inside the cabin with a quiet click of the door.

A gentle purr from Eclipse follows, and you glance up at him with a soft joy filling you to the brim.

“Hey, big guy.” You smile.

Eclipse offers his hand, water rises until it surfaces with a slickness to his palm. Without hesitation, you accept, crawling onto the pads of his fingers and ignoring how your pajamas grow damp with his touch.

He lifts you gently into the air. With a soft flick, he leans back and slips away from the rustbucket II but stays well within sight. You settle into his palm as if you were coming home. A pulsing warmth trickles between your ribs and into your heart. You hold his big, yellow eyes softly.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You reach out and stroke his thumb. “You were very kind to listen to Vanessa. I think it helps her a lot.”

Eclipse whistles a happy sound and you’re nearly bowled over by his sweet joy for being able to provide comfort to a human he is still getting to know. But below the harmonic chords of cheer, you feel a bitter tang. Upset at the thoughts of a terrible fate thrust upon a human. A bond crafted not to use for love, but for control.

You watch his lips pull back into a silent snarl. His teeth are powerful and large, shaped like shark incisors, but they do not scare you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you say softly. You shift to sit on your knees, waiting until he holds your gaze and loses the sharpness of his eyes. “It’s over now. You made sure of that.”

He killed Glitch. He told Vanessa just as much.

“You would never do such an awful thing,” you also press. You don’t need to tell Eclipse that, but you believe the mere thought grinds against his fins and scrapes his scales.

You think back to the tiny mer you found on the beach with a hook stuck in his lip. He was so tiny, so afraid then. You were an unknown monster reaching for him, but then you set him free. Now here he is, holding you in the palm of his hand.

You smile and open your arms, a silent request.

He answers you without hesitation. Gently lifting you to his large face, he sets you against his cheek. His nuzzle is joined by a thick, vibrating purr and you laugh softly, pressing against his slick flesh.

“See? It’s okay,” you tell him and stroke softly down the side of his face and brush a few of his swaying frills. “You take good care of me.”

And you take care of me.

You close your eyes and press just underneath the curve of his eye.

“Yes,” you murmur.

A gush of warmth envelopes you far more than Eclipse’s hands. Slowly, he pulls you back and with a gentle lick of his tongue, swipes half your body in his fishy saliva.

“Eclipse,” you half laugh, half chastise.

Love you.

He trills and sings and lowers you back to his chest where he gently washes you with drips of salt water from his claws. You close your eyes—this must be what kittens feel like being washed by their mother’s tongue—until you are less fishy and more salty smelling.

He hums low and gentle, and as the sun rises higher and higher, you rest above Eclipse’s heart. The beautiful beat within is steady. You drift upon Eclipse until Vanessa’s voice calls out from your boat. Tea is ready.

#naff's writing commissions #in deep dreams between the waves #mermaid!eclipse #nothing quite like an unlikely firendship #and eclipse gets to help vanessa traverse through her messy feelings in the aftermath of what happened to her #naff writing

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mikeru-funzies · 7 months ago

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HDFHEHDDUODHHRHSGDrusgdgjebHSHDFHEJYGDHEHWEGFYJEHW

best friendship dynamic: midwest emo white boy vs progressive metal cutecore girl

is it even a solid relationship if you dont have opposite aesthetics

@mikeru6 💗

#POSITIVE #I LOVE THE FRONT BOTTOMS!!!!!#WE ARE SO CUTE AHHHH #KENOUGH HOODIE?? THE DTRAWBERRY CARDIGAN FIT #WE ECEN HAVE OPPOSITE FEATURES THATS SUCH A SMART DETAIL (like shading above/below the nose)#you even included my Roblox man face smirk omg….<3333 #my partner in crime #should make this my side blog pfp .. just gotta edit it with the flag #NEOPRONOUNS USED:(#you’re too good for me #hello lilac #❤️❤️❤️#not lord of the flies💔/j

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yuoimia · 1 year ago

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one chance

summary: you give them one chance. how do they use it?

characters: alhaitham, diluc, neuvillette, wriothesley.

notes: will be a part 2 (i think), suggestive in alhaitham and diluc’s, petnames, gn! reader, kinda messy, wc: approx 200-250 each.

alhaitham

The only source of light came from the weary beams of the iridescent crescent moon, glowing high above the starry skies of Sumeru City. Shining onto the home underneath.

Two people casting hazy shadows on the hardwood floor, moving lazily to the gentle rhythm of the vinyl playing on the record. An occasional ring of spirited laughter escaping into the noiseless night, usually followed by a hushed but lively chuckle.

—

The only word that comes to mind is surreal.

Perhaps because the moment could be considered just that. It’s piercing you so beautifully, the thousand words electrifying the air between you, threatening to strike at any moment. His eyes, so vividly green and captivating, all tender and kind, capturing yours like a kiss.

“For once, someone’s speechless,” comes a proud voice of the person responsible for leaving you in such a mess. You can almost feel the smugness cascading off him, tripling as he so wonderfully decides to snake an arm around your waist. What do you say? He’s not wrong, oh certainly not, but your pride would surely never recover if it were to go through such a torturous experience.

“It’s okay,” he replies, tilting his head down towards your collarbone, short puffs of breath making you shiver. “I’ll have to make sure this one chance is all worth it.”

diluc

The evening breeze brings forth many aromas—the subtle scent of grapes on vines, the earthy fragrance of the nearby forests—all mixing into one radiant feeling of home. Cicadas that hum lowly as dusk settles in, the sunset gleaming in the near distance, spilling onto the front porch of Dawn Winery.

It’s beginning to get colder, and the knitted cardigan wrapped around you is starting to prove useless. Yet, you refuse to move. He promised, you remind yourself, staring more fiercely into the ombré of warm colours dappling the sky. He promised, you repeat in your mind again, again and again.

—

“I promised,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against the wool of your cardigan. “Did you think I’d break it?” Gentle and precise hands cup your face, lifting it towards his. His eyes are searching, curious, but warmhearted. It makes you dazed—a sudden desire to plunge into his embrace, washing out all other rational thoughts.

“Maybe,” you answer, bolder than he anticipated. He raises his eyebrows as you continue on. “Don’t you think you need to make it up to me?”

neuvillette

Dust on the bookshelves is threatening to make you sneeze.

The books are in pristine condition, you note. Perhaps opened a few or so times. It’s a shame how none of them peak your interest; the boredom drowning you by the second is starting to make you agitated, an obvious understatement.

You’re on the verge of madness. The luxurious rug lining Neuvillette’s office with the matching teal and gold curtains is far too vibrant, and the elegant flowers you once admired half an hour ago are sickening.

You sigh loudly, letting out a few groans, before contorting into a questionable position in the grand chair. Horizontal, legs and arms splayed out, eyes closed.

How much longer is the trial going to last?

—

When you wake up, you’re not in his office anymore.

Instead, you’re in a dimly lit bedroom. Ghostly familiar, the delicate feeling of silk below your head, the comforting warmth of the sweetly scented covers, and most of all, a faraway voice calling out your name.

“(name).”

A soft tug of a hand pulls you into an upright position.

“Darling… please, I've made you dinner. Open your eyes for me, please.”

Languidly, you do.

The sight is stunning, captivating, and completely unexpected that it renders you speechless. A small candlelit table, fit for two, covered in a divine array of foods that remind him of you, your favourites.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, he smiles, leading you to your seat before his.

wriothesley

Last week, Wriothesley called you into his office because he couldn’t decide what tea to order.

Yesterday, Wriothesley called you into his office because he wanted to share his tea with someone.

Also yesterday, after you had finished the (delightful) tea and cakes, you warned him that you were giving him one last chance.

“Don’t call me in unless it’s an absolute emergency, alright? This is the last time.”

Something about that agreement felt off, like that you had forgotten to mention a crucial component—that singular missing piece—the one he would almost certainly seize.

You had shrugged it off, focusing on your daily commissions, when suddenly, in the corner of your peripheral vision, an all too familiar, all too dreaded silhouette walks towards you.

“Excuse me, the Duke wants to see you. Again.”

—

You want to slap that winning grin off his face.

“Tea?” Wriothesley asks hopefully, lifting up a tray of teacups before cautiously lowering them down at your expression. “Come on sweetheart, this is an emergency. At least, I consider it to be one.”

This situation is testing every last drop of your patience. Incoherent murmurs stream out of your mouth as you lightly push his tray of teacups to the furthest side of the table.

“This is all quite lovely,” you strain, glaring into his amused eyes. “However, I’m failing to see the actual emergency you had called me in for.”

“Emergency?” Wriothesley asks, pleasantly surprised, edging the teacups a bit closer to you. “Why should there be an emergency, darling? Everything’s perfect.”

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin drabbles #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #anya writes ✧.*

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stylesonfilms · 2 months ago

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ink & innocence - 19 *

word count: 10.6k

woooah! here's a long one. excuse me for any grammar/plot inconsistencies.... i don't ever check because i like pumpin these parts out asap!! enjoy though! thanks for all the patience and all the kind words in my inbox <33

Aspen's eyes fluttered open, the faint scent of Harry lingering in the air around her, warm and comforting. A small yawn escaped her lips as she stretched, her arms reaching above her head before curling back into herself beneath the covers. Her gaze lazily swept the room, only then noticing Harry wasn't beside her.

The faint hum of the shower reached her ears, accompanied by the occasional clink of water droplets hitting the tiles. It was soothing, a reminder of the intimacy they'd shared the night before. Aspen's cheeks heated as fragmented memories flashed in her mind—Harry's lips on her skin, his whispered praises, the way he'd cared for her so gently afterward. She pulled the blanket higher over her face, trying to smother the bashful grin that refused to leave her lips.

Shifting slightly, she became aware of the soft fabric against her skin. Glancing down, Aspen realized she was dressed in nothing but her panties and one of Harry's shirts, the hem of which rested just below her hips. Her heart gave a little flutter at the sight, the scent of him clinging faintly to the material. Her dress and cardigan were neatly folded on Harry's dresser, a sweet gesture that didn't surprise her but warmed her heart nonetheless.

She sighed contentedly and nestled back into the pillow, a faint smile tugging at her lips as her thoughts drifted to him. She didn't realize how lost in her musings she was until the sound of the shower shutting off broke through her reverie. The familiar rasp of the metal rings as the curtain was drawn back sent a ripple of anticipation through her, and she bit her lip, burying her face in the pillow again to hide her expression even though Harry wasn't yet in the room.

The door creaked open moments later, and Aspen peeked out just in time to see Harry emerge. Her breath caught slightly as her eyes landed on him. A towel hung low on his hips, water droplets trailing down his toned torso. His damp curls clung to his forehead, and a crooked smile lit up his face when he noticed her watching.

"G'morning, sugar," he greeted, his voice warm and slightly teasing as he padded over to her.

Aspen managed a shy smile, her heart fluttering wildly as Harry came to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. Before she could say anything, he leaned closer, shaking his wet hair over her playfully. A few droplets of water sprinkled onto her face, making her squeal and pull the blanket over her head.

"Harry!" she protested, her voice muffled beneath the covers, though she couldn't suppress the giggle that followed.

Harry chuckled, pulling the blanket down just enough to reveal her flushed face. "There she is," he murmured, leaning down to press a series of soft, lingering kisses to her lips. Each one drew another giggle from her, her hands instinctively reaching to rest on his damp shoulders.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb gently brushed her cheek. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked softly, his voice laced with genuine care.

Aspen nodded, her smile still lingering. "Yeah. Really well, actually."

"Good," he said, brushing a stray curl away from her face before sitting back slightly. "Hey, did'ya hear about Niall's party tonight? He's hosting at his place."

Aspen blinked, shaking her head slightly. "No, I didn't. Are you thinking of going?"

Harry shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "Only 'f y'want to. It's up to you, sugar. I don't have t'go if you don't feel like it."

The sincerity in his tone made Aspen's chest tighten in the best way. She knew how much Harry's friends meant to him, and the fact that he was willing to forgo the party for her made her heart swell. Smiling softly, she tilted her head. "Would Isobel and Zayn be there?"

"Probably," Harry said with a chuckle. "I can check if you want."

Aspen considered it for a moment before nodding. "Okay. It could be fun," she said, her voice soft but genuine. "As long as you're with me."

Harry's grin widened, and he leaned down to steal another quick kiss. "Always," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers before he pulled back to grab his phone. "I'll let Niall know we're coming."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen shut the door to her bedroom with a soft click, the sound echoing louder than she expected in the quiet apartment. Isobel was still at Zayn's, and the silence felt both comforting and oddly exposing. She turned the lock and tested the handle to ensure it was secure before leaning against the door, her heart thudding in her chest for reasons she couldn't quite admit aloud.

On her bed sat a small brown package, innocuous to anyone else but holding a secret that made her cheeks burn. She approached it hesitantly, her fingers brushing the edges of the box as she sat cross-legged on her comforter. For a moment, she simply stared at it, as if opening it would set off alarms to announce her intentions to the world.

A deep breath later, Aspen dug her nails into the tape sealing the box and pulled it open, careful not to tear the cardboard too much. Inside, nestled in discreet tissue paper, was the item she had been waiting on—a purple sparkly dildo, smaller than most she had seen online, chosen with care for her specific purpose. She hesitated before lifting it from its packaging, her hands trembling slightly as she turned it over in the light.

Her face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, and she instinctively glanced around the room despite knowing she was alone. It wasn't embarrassment exactly, but something more tender—a shyness born of inexperience and the secret vulnerability of preparing for something so deeply intimate.

Aspen's thoughts drifted to Harry, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She had been thinking about this moment for weeks, her curiosity and desire growing alongside her feelings for him. Last night had solidified it in her mind—he had been so attentive, so utterly devoted to her pleasure, and she wanted to do the same for him. Not just out of obligation, but because the thought of making him feel the way he made her feel sent a warm shiver through her body.

Still, the idea of her lack of experience made her stomach twist in knots. What if she wasn't good at it? What if she made it awkward? She hated the idea of fumbling through something so meaningful, especially when it came to Harry. The thought of his face, his groans, the way his lips parted when he let himself feel—she wanted to see that again, to be the reason for it.

That was why she had ordered this. Not to use for herself, but to practice. She could barely even think the word without her face heating up, but she knew it was the truth. The small toy felt manageable, like a stepping stone toward learning how to please Harry in the way she wanted to. She bit her lip, her thumb brushing over the smooth, glittery surface as she set it on the bed beside her.

Her mind buzzed with anticipation and nervous energy as she considered what to do next. There was a part of her that wanted to chicken out, to shove the box under her bed and never think about it again. But then she thought of Harry—the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the low timbre of his voice when he murmured her name, the way he'd kissed her so reverently the night before. He was worth overcoming her hesitation.

With a shaky exhale, Aspen stood and moved to her desk, grabbing a small bottle of lubricant she had also ordered for this very moment. The act of preparing made her feel bold and a little self-conscious all at once. She set everything neatly on the bed before climbing back onto the mattress, crossing her legs beneath her and staring down at the items as if willing them to guide her.

She whispered to herself, "Okay, you can do this," though her voice was barely audible in the empty room. A tentative smile crept onto her lips as she picked up the toy again, her fingers curling around its base. This wasn't just about learning or practicing—it was about the quiet excitement of imagining Harry's pleasure, of knowing she could give him something meaningful in return for the tenderness he had shown her. And that thought alone was enough to make her heart race.

Aspen had about four hours before Harry would come pick her up, and one of those hours she would reserve to get ready. With three hours to spare, she figured that was plenty of time to get her practice in. It wasn't like he expected her to do this for him, and not once did he ask her for anything in return from the previous night. This was something Aspen set out to do on her own.

With the toy in her shy hands, she walked to her bathroom. She washed and dried the toy delicately and giggled to herself with red cheeks at how it just... stuck to the counter. The girl removed the toy to stick it onto the ledge of her bathtub. She figured it would be better to not hold it, since Harry's was, well, stuck on him.

Intimidation flooded her chest to accompany the slight shy and embarrassment as she stared at the toy. It was no more than six inches, maybe five, she spent less than five minutes on Amazon alone while she tried to scramble out of it. The girl slipped onto her knees in front of the toy and brushed her hair behind her ears. Still in Harry's shirt and a pair of shorts she found in her tote bag, her fingers nervously stretched the hem of the shirt.

No one is here, she thought to herself to calm down. The girl set her phone down on the ledge, clicking play on some random short video she found. With a hot face and nervous hands, she watched the video at least three times before she wiggled closer and tucked her hair back once again.

Aspen's heart was racing as she sat back on her heels, staring at the toy stuck firmly to the edge of the tub. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted Harry's shirt on her shoulders, the familiar fabric bringing a strange sense of comfort. The video had been helpful—at least, it gave her some idea of what to do—but actually putting it into practice felt entirely different.

The toy gleamed under the bathroom light, the sparkles catching her eye as if teasing her for her hesitation. She bit her lip, her mind flashing back to Harry's hands on her, his mouth, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. That memory alone gave her the push she needed. She wasn't doing this for herself—this was for him, for the look she knew she'd get when she finally showed him how much she cared in her own way.

With a deep breath, Aspen leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the base of the toy. Her grip was unsure at first, her fingers flexing against the smooth surface as she tried to mimic what she had seen. It felt strange—foreign, even—but she reminded herself that this was exactly why she was practicing. Her gaze flickered to the video still playing on her phone, the soft, instructive voice guiding her as she adjusted her hand to a more comfortable position.

She brought her lips close to the tip, her face heating as she hesitated. The idea of doing this for Harry, of having him look at her with that mix of awe and affection, sent a warm shiver through her. Slowly, she let her lips part, pressing a tentative kiss to the tip before sliding her mouth over it just slightly. The feeling was odd but not unpleasant, and she pulled back almost immediately, her cheeks burning.

"Okay, Aspen," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the video. "You've got this. Just... take it slow."

She leaned in again, her lips wrapping more firmly around the toy this time. Aspen tried to remember the rhythm and movements she had seen, moving her hand in time with her mouth as she took it in a little farther. Her tongue brushed against the surface, and she focused on maintaining a steady pace. The motions felt awkward at first, but she kept going, determined to make it feel natural.

Her thoughts strayed to Harry again—his voice, his laugh, the way he called her "sugar" with that teasing lilt. It made her smile despite herself, and she realized she was beginning to relax. She adjusted her grip slightly, testing what felt comfortable for her as she moved her mouth up and down the length of the toy.

As she grew more confident, Aspen pushed herself to take it deeper. The first attempt was met with resistance, and she pulled back quickly with a small cough, her eyes widening in surprise. "Okay," she muttered, her cheeks flushed. "Noted."

She took a moment to collect herself, running her fingers over the base of the toy as she caught her breath. This wasn't easy, but she didn't expect it to be. What mattered was that she was trying, and she couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride for even attempting this in the first place.

Aspen brushed her hair back again, her fingers steadying themselves as she glanced at the toy. The brief setback hadn't discouraged her—it was all part of the process, she told herself. After a few deep breaths, she leaned in once more, determined to improve. This time, she focused on keeping her movements slow and deliberate, experimenting with how far she could go while maintaining a comfortable rhythm.

Her lips wrapped around the toy, gliding down the length with a bit more ease. The motions began to feel smoother, less awkward, as she found a rhythm that worked. Each time she pushed herself to take it deeper, she would pause to adjust, her mind focused on breathing steadily through her nose and relaxing her jaw. The initial nerves faded bit by bit, replaced by a quiet determination. Aspen imagined Harry watching her, the thought sending a wave of warmth through her. Would he be proud of her for trying this? She hoped so.

After a few more rounds, she pulled back, sitting up on her knees as she wiped at her lips with the back of her hand. Her chest rose and fell with her measured breathing, and she allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than when she started.

Her eyes flickered to the bottle of lube she had grabbed earlier, and an idea clicked in her mind. She'd read somewhere that using just spit wasn't ideal for making things comfortable. A little extra help couldn't hurt, and it would give her a chance to practice with her hands as well. With that thought, Aspen uncapped the bottle, squeezing a small amount onto her palm.

The cool, slick sensation made her fingers tingle as she rubbed the lube between her hands. She hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her hand around the base of the toy, gliding her fingers along its length experimentally. The lube made the movements smooth and effortless, and she nodded in approval to herself. "That's definitely better," she muttered.

She practiced moving her hand up and down, twisting slightly at the top as she had seen in a few videos and read in advice threads. The slickness made the motions feel more natural, and Aspen began to alternate between using one hand and adding the other for different techniques. Her cheeks were flushed, but there was a hint of pride in her expression as she focused on getting it right.

As she worked, her thoughts drifted back to Harry, imagining his reaction. She wanted to surprise him, to show him that she could give him as much care and attention as he had given her. The thought of his soft praises, the way he always made her feel safe and adored, spurred her on.

By the time she set the toy down, her hands slightly sticky with the remnants of the lube, Aspen felt a new wave of confidence. She still had a lot to learn, but she was making progress—and that was enough for now.Aspen was still kneeling on the bathroom floor, her hands gliding up and down the toy with practiced motions, her face a little less red as she became more confident in what she was doing. She was so focused that she almost didn't hear the front door open—or the unmistakable sound of Isobel's cheerful voice calling out, "Aspen! I'm back!"

Her heart leaped into her throat. Panic surged through her, and her hands froze mid-motion. "Crap, crap, crap," she whispered, fumbling with the toy as she tried to think of where to put everything. She quickly grabbed the toy and the bottle of lube, shoving them under the sink. Her fingers trembled as she wiped at the countertop with a nearby towel, trying to erase any evidence of what she had been doing.

She turned on the faucet, frantically scrubbing her hands and splashing cold water on her flushed face to cool it down. But then her eyes widened as she remembered the box and the packaging still sitting on her bed. "Oh, no," she whispered, darting out of the bathroom.

Just as Isobel's footsteps echoed closer, Aspen grabbed the box and kicked it under the bed with a hurried nudge of her foot. She spun around just in time to see her bedroom door swing open, her heart racing as she plastered a casual smile on her face.

"There you are!" Isobel beamed, stepping inside and flopping onto Aspen's bed without hesitation. "I thought you'd still be sleeping or something. Zayn's place is crazy right now, so I figured I'd escape and come bother you."

Aspen forced a laugh, hoping her flushed face wouldn't give her away. She nervously tugged at the hem of her shirt, her mind racing. "Oh, um, no. I've just been... cleaning up a bit," she said, glancing toward the bathroom door as if double-checking that nothing was left out.

Isobel didn't seem to notice Aspen's odd behavior. She stretched out on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge as she grinned up at her friend. "So, about tonight... Are we going to Niall's party? Zayn says it's going to be packed, and I heard there's going to be karaoke again. You have to come, Aspen."

Still trying to calm the frantic beat of her heart, Aspen sat on the edge of the bed and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think I'm going. Harry mentioned it earlier, so... I guess we'll both be there."

Isobel's face lit up. "Perfect! I can't wait to see you two being cute and couple-y. Honestly, it's kind of sickening how adorable you are." She smirked, poking Aspen's arm playfully. "What are you wearing? You have to look amazing."

Aspen chuckled softly, the tension in her chest easing slightly as she realized Isobel wasn't suspicious. "I haven't decided yet. Something simple, probably."

"Simple doesn't cut it, babe," Isobel teased, sitting up and pulling Aspen into a half-hug. "We're going to make you look like a goddess tonight. Harry won't be able to keep his hands off you."

Aspen's cheeks flushed again, but this time, it wasn't from embarrassment over what she had been doing earlier. She let herself relax as she and Isobel began to chat about outfits, hairstyles, and what they thought the night would bring.

Aspen turned in front of her full-length mirror, trying not to let her nerves get the better of her. Isobel stood behind her, beaming with pride as she admired her work.

"You look so good, Aspen," Isobel said, clasping her hands together as if she'd just unveiled a masterpiece. "Harry's going to lose his mind when he sees you. Trust me."

Aspen bit her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed as she took in her reflection. The leopard print micro shorts sat snugly on her hips, showing more skin than she was used to, and the black top clung to her figure in a way that made her hyper-aware of every curve. The sheer material revealed hints of her dark red bra, especially when she moved under the light, and Isobel had made sure she wore a push-up bra that emphasized her chest more than she was used to. The knee-high boots added an edge to her look, and her hair—loose, shiny, and with its natural blowout volume—cascaded around her shoulders.

Her makeup was darker than usual: smoky liner that brought out the green flecks in her hazel eyes and a deep, muted red lip that balanced sultry with understated. It wasn't too far from her natural style, but it was definitely bolder than what she normally wore.

"Are you sure about this?" Aspen asked, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. "I mean... I don't know if it's really me."

Isobel rolled her eyes dramatically and swatted Aspen's hand away. "Stop doubting yourself! You look hot. Like, seriously hot. And it's a party, Aspen—it's supposed to be fun. Besides, you deserve to feel confident and sexy for once. Harry's going to eat you alive."

Aspen groaned softly but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Isobel's confidence was infectious. "Okay, okay. But if anyone stares too much, I'm blaming you."

"Let them stare!" Isobel declared, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You're a goddess tonight, and everyone should know it."

Aspen laughed nervously, grabbing her small black crossbody bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "All right, let's go before I change my mind."

When Harry arrived to pick Aspen up, the last thing he expected was to be rendered speechless on her doorstep. His usual laid-back confidence wavered the second his eyes landed on her. She looked... stunning. The kind of stunning that didn't just catch his attention but made his chest tighten and his thoughts scatter.

His gaze swept over her from head to toe, lingering on the daring leopard print shorts that showed off her legs and the way the black top hugged her figure in ways that made it impossible to look away. The subtle flash of red from her bra beneath the sheer fabric sent a warmth up his neck, though he quickly fought it back, not wanting to seem like he was ogling her.

Harry, standing there in his dark grey long sleeve shirt with the top two buttons undone, sleeves casually rolled up to reveal his tattoos, shifted on his boots. His flannel was slung loosely around his waist, the contrast between his rugged appearance and her bold elegance somehow fitting. But for once, he felt like he was the one trying to keep up.

He swallowed hard, realizing he hadn't said a word. "Wow," he finally breathed, his voice unintentionally dropping an octave. "You look... incredible." His words hung heavy with honesty, his eyes still glued to hers.

Aspen's cheeks flushed a deep pink under his intense gaze. She ducked her head slightly, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping her. "Isobel's doing," she murmured, tugging at the strap of her bag as if to distract herself. "It's a little more than I'd usually wear."

Harry took a step closer, closing the space between them. His hand came up gently, his fingers tilting her chin so she'd meet his gaze. The warmth in his eyes melted away any lingering doubts she had about the outfit.

"You're perfect," he said, his tone steady and certain. The sincerity in his voice wrapped around her like a blanket. "Don't change a thing. I love it."

Aspen's breath caught, her heart racing under his unwavering attention. The blush on her cheeks deepened, and all she could manage was a soft, "Okay," her voice almost a whisper.

Harry's thumb brushed lightly along her jaw before he dropped his hand, though his eyes stayed locked on hers for a moment longer. His own heart was pounding—he wasn't even sure how she didn't notice the way his hands itched to reach for her again, just to keep her close.

Before either of them could say another word, Isobel's cheerful voice rang out from the top of the stairs. "Come on, lovebirds! We're going to be late!"

Harry chuckled, breaking the moment as he stepped back, his hand naturally finding the small of Aspen's back to guide her toward his car. "Guess that's our cue," he said softly, glancing down at her with a smile that felt reserved just for her.

Aspen followed his lead, her heart still fluttering in her chest. As they walked, she couldn't help but steal a glance at him—the way his rolled sleeves accentuated his forearms, the casual way his flannel swayed with his movements, and the ease in his stride. He looked good. He always did, but tonight... there was something different.

The night was just beginning, but Aspen already felt the buzz of excitement tingling through her. And it wasn't just about the party ahead—it was about Harry, and the way his every glance, touch, and word made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

The drive to Niall's party was filled with a mix of quiet conversation and a shared anticipation. Harry's hand rested comfortably on the gear shift, his fingers occasionally brushing against Aspen's knee as they chatted about nothing in particular. Aspen felt her nerves ebb and flow; this was her first time going to a party like this with Harry, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

When they arrived, the unmistakable hum of bass reverberated from the house, spilling into the night air. The sound grew louder as Harry pushed open the front door for her, the familiar chaos of a party greeting them like a wave. Laughter, music, and snippets of overlapping conversations blended together in an almost overwhelming cacophony.

Aspen instinctively pressed closer to Harry's side, her arm brushing against his as they stepped inside. He noticed the small movement immediately, glancing down at her with a reassuring smile. "Stay close," he said, his voice low but audible against the noise.

She nodded, her heart steadying slightly at the comfort of his presence. Together, they wove through the crowded space, stopping to greet Liam, Louis, and Zayn. Each of the boys greeted Aspen warmly, their familiarity making her feel a little less out of place. Isobel had already peeled away, spotting a group of friends across the room, leaving Aspen tucked safely under Harry's protective gaze.

As they maneuvered through the living room, Aspen's eyes darted around, taking in the lively scene. People were scattered in groups, some dancing, others huddled on couches, and a few lingering by the kitchen island with drinks in hand. Her gaze snagged briefly on a figure near the edge of the room—Kirsten.

The sight made her stomach twist involuntarily. Kirsten was laughing at something, her posture relaxed and carefree. Aspen's fingers twitched, an urge to grab onto Harry stronger than before, but she forced herself to look away. It didn't seem like Harry had noticed, his attention focused on steering them toward the drinks table in the kitchen.

"Want a drink?" Harry asked as they approached, his voice cutting through the noise as he leaned slightly closer to her.

"Juice, if they have it," Aspen replied quickly. She wasn't in the mood to risk alcohol, not with the way her nerves were still settling.

Harry nodded, scanning the array of bottles and mixers sprawled across the counter. He reached for a carton of juice, unscrewing the cap and pouring it into a cup. Before handing it to her, he paused, taking a sip himself.

His brows furrowed for a brief moment as he swirled the liquid in his mouth before nodding in approval. "Just juice," he confirmed with a small smirk, handing the cup to her.

Aspen took it with a shy smile, grateful for the small gesture of care. Harry grabbed a beer for himself, expertly popping the cap off with one hand.

"You okay?" he asked, his green eyes searching hers as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the counter.

"Yeah," she said, sipping her drink. "It's... loud. But I'm fine."

Harry chuckled, his hand resting briefly on the small of her back. "It's always loud with Niall. You'll get used to it. If it gets too much, just say the word."

She nodded, her chest warming at his attentiveness. Even here, surrounded by chaos and distraction, Harry made her feel seen—like she mattered more than anything else in the room.

As they moved to find a quieter corner, Aspen felt herself relax slightly. The drink in her hand grounded her, and Harry's steady presence beside her made the overwhelming atmosphere feel manageable. She cast another glance around the room, but Kirsten was nowhere in sight now.

Good, she thought, turning her attention fully back to Harry as he sipped his beer and tilted his head toward her. The night was still young, and she silently vowed not to let anything ruin the moment they were building together.

Harry leaned against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, his body angled toward Aspen. The faint smirk playing on his lips softened as he looked at her, his green eyes catching the low kitchen lights. Aspen was still close, her drink clutched delicately between her hands.

"See? Juice isn't so bad at a party," he teased, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

She laughed softly, the sound barely carrying over the thrum of the music from the next room. "It's safer. I can't afford an Isobel-level hangover," she replied, taking a small sip for emphasis.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Fair point. She's a lightweight, but she recovers fast. Maybe you'll be one 'nd the same."

"I think I might still feel Zayn's party for her," she joked, glancing down at her cup. "But this is nice. I like just... talking like this."

He smiled at that, a warmth spreading through his chest. "Yeah? Me too. 'S easy with you."

Her heart skipped at his words, and she tried to focus on the rim of her cup instead of how close his gaze made her feel. It was like he could see right through her, past the noise of the party and into something she wasn't even sure she fully understood yet.

They fell into a rhythm of light conversation, their words flowing as naturally as the comfort between them. Harry asked about her day, his tone genuinely curious, and Aspen recounted the little details she hadn't thought worth mentioning before. He listened intently, occasionally nodding or adding a playful comment that made her laugh.

But as they talked, Aspen became increasingly aware of the others around them. Niall's party was buzzing with energy, and she couldn't help but notice how many people greeted Harry, waving or clapping him on the back in passing. He was clearly a familiar face here, and it struck her that she might be unintentionally keeping him from joining his friends.

She hesitated, fiddling with the cup in her hands before glancing up at him. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, his eyes still fixed on her.

She smiled softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "You don't have to stick by me all night, you know. If you want to go hang out with your friends or—"

Harry frowned, cutting her off with a shake of his head. "What? No. 'M not leaving y'here alone."

"I wouldn't be alone," she argued gently, motioning to the room full of people. "I'll be fine, Harry. Really. I don't want to hold you back from... whatever it is you'd rather be doing."

His frown deepened, and he set his beer down on the counter with a soft clink before turning fully toward her. "Aspen," he said firmly, his voice lowering enough that it felt like they had their own little bubble of quiet. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. If I wanted to be with anyone else, I'd be there. Not here. But 'm here with you 'cause you mean more t'me."

Her cheeks flushed at his words, the sincerity in his voice almost overwhelming. She opened her mouth to respond, but he beat her to it, his lips curving into a softer smile.

"Besides," he added, his tone lighter now, "if I let y'out of my sight, who's going to make sure your juice stays jus' juice?"

She laughed despite herself, the sound easing the tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding in her chest. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe," he agreed, his smile widening. "But 'm also not leaving you. So deal with it."

Aspen shook her head, her grin matching his. "Fine. Suit yourself."

"I will," he quipped, taking another sip of his beer as if to punctuate the moment.

The conversation flowed naturally again after that, but Harry stayed closer than before, his arm brushing hers occasionally as if to remind her he wasn't going anywhere. Aspen felt a warmth settle in her chest—a feeling she was beginning to recognize as uniquely tied to him.

The two were still mid-conversation when Kirsten approached, her appearance so sudden that even Harry—typically unflappable—tensed slightly. She wore her signature smile, the one that didn't quite meet her eyes, as she sauntered up with a drink in hand.

"Well, well," she began, her tone syrupy sweet. "If it isn't the cutest couple at the party."

Aspen turned, her face lighting up in genuine surprise. "Oh, hey, Kirsten!"

Harry's jaw ticked, but he masked it quickly, offering a tight smile. "Kirsten."

Kirsten tilted her head, her gaze flicking between the two of them. "I was just telling Zayn how happy I am for you guys. I mean, really, Aspen, you've got quite the catch here."

Aspen's cheeks flushed at the comment, her shyness kicking in. "Oh, um, thank you. Harry's... he's great."

Harry glanced at Aspen, his features softening momentarily at the sincerity in her voice, but when his gaze shifted back to Kirsten, his expression hardened again.

"Anyway," Kirsten continued, leaning slightly toward Aspen as if to exclude Harry, "you're looking amazing tonight. That outfit? Killer. Who knew you had it in you?"

Aspen blinked, unsure if that was meant as a compliment or something else entirely, but she managed a small smile. "Thanks. Isobel helped me pick it out."

"Of course she did," Kirsten said with a laugh, her eyes glinting with something Harry didn't like. "She's always had an eye for this kind of thing."

Before either of them could respond, Kirsten held out a cup toward Aspen. "Here. I grabbed you another juice. Figured you'd want a refill."

Aspen hesitated for a moment but took the cup with a grateful smile. "Oh, thank you. That's so nice of you."

Kirsten's smile widened, her eyes flickering briefly to Harry. "Anything for you, Aspen." With that, she waved a hand and breezed off, heading back to the group she'd come from.

Aspen raised the cup to her lips, ready to take a sip, but Harry's hand shot out, gently but firmly taking the drink from her.

"Harry?" she asked, confused by the sudden action.

He didn't answer immediately, his brow furrowed as he brought the cup to his nose and sniffed. His frown deepened, and without a word, he tipped the cup back and took a cautious sip. The sharp taste of vodka immediately hit his tongue, and his jaw clenched.

"Are y'kiddin' me?" he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the cup.

Aspen tilted her head, concern lacing her features. "What's wrong?"

Harry set the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary, his green eyes locking onto hers. "It's spiked. There's vodka in it."

Aspen's eyes widened in shock. "What? But... I didn't—."

"I know you didn't," Harry cut her off, his voice softer but still laced with a protective edge. "But she did." His eyes trailed along with Kirsten who shuffled through the crowd, shaking his head.

Aspen blinked, her confusion deepening. "Kirsten? Why would she...?"

Harry let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his frustration in check. "I don't know, but anyone who knows you knows you don't drink. Tha's not an accident."

Aspen's lips parted, but no words came out. She looked down at the cup, her brows knitting together as realization dawned. "I didn't even think... I just—."

"Hey," Harry interrupted, stepping closer and cupping her cheek gently. "It's not your fault. Y'shouldn't have to think about stuff like that."

She leaned into his touch, her face still tinged with worry. "I just don't understand why she'd do that."

Harry's jaw tightened again, but he kept his voice steady for her sake. "Some people are just... I don't know, Aspen. But 's okay, I'll go grab you another, yeah? No need to fret."

Aspen nodded, her hands curling into the hem of her top. "Thank you, Harry. For looking out for me."

"Always," he said firmly, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Let's just... steer clear of Kirsten for the rest of the night, yeah?"

Aspen gave a small nod, her trust in him evident in the way she relaxed under his gaze. Harry, however, made a mental note to keep an even closer eye on Kirsten for the remainder of the party.

An hour later, the party continued to hum with noise and activity, but Harry and Aspen had found a quieter moment in the kitchen. The two leaned casually against the counter, a shared bowl of chips between them, as their conversation meandered through light and playful topics. Harry popped a chip into his mouth, his eyes sparkling as he glanced at Aspen.

“I have to say,” he started, his tone easy but laced with sincerity, “your eyeliner tonight? Flawless. You’re like some kind of makeup wizard or something.”

Aspen blinked, then let out a soft laugh, tilting her head as she brushed a stray curl behind her ear. “Makeup wizard? That’s a new one.”

“I’m serious,” Harry insisted, his lips quirking into a small grin. “It’s sharp enough to cut someone. Deadly.”

She rolled her eyes, though the faint blush on her cheeks gave her away. “Thanks, Harry, but it’s really not that impressive.”

“Oh, it is,” he countered, leaning just a fraction closer. “I’m impressed.”

Aspen smirked, crossing her arms over her chest as a teasing glint appeared in her eyes. “If you’re so impressed, maybe I should do yours. Let’s see how you pull off a cat-eye.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Aspen said, her tone playful but challenging. “I’ve got my liner in my bag. I could make you look runway-ready in ten minutes.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, before shrugging. “Alright, deal. Let’s see what you’ve got, wizard.”

Aspen blinked, startled by his willingness. “Wait, seriously?”

“Why not?” Harry replied, leaning casually against the counter. “It’s a party. Let’s have some fun. Plus, I trust you.”

Her heart fluttered at the casual way he said those words, and she quickly turned away to fish through her bag, hoping he didn’t notice the way her fingers trembled slightly. “Okay, but I need decent lighting. I can’t work miracles in the middle of a party.”

Harry chuckled, pushing off the counter and nodding toward the hallway. “Come on. I know just the place.”

He led her through the crowd, his hand naturally finding the small of her back as they weaved between clusters of people. When they reached the bathroom, Harry opened the door and gestured for her to step inside first.

The bathroom was surprisingly tidy, with bright lighting that illuminated every detail. Harry leaned against the sink, crossing his arms as he watched her set her bag down on the counter and pull out the eyeliner.

“Alright, sit,” Aspen instructed, pointing to the closed toilet lid.

Harry obliged, his posture relaxed as he perched on the seat, looking up at her with an amused expression. “This is going to be good.”

Aspen leaned down slightly, her focus shifting entirely to him as she uncapped the eyeliner. “Stay still, or I’ll accidentally poke your eye out. Then you’ll have to explain to everyone why you’re walking around with one eye closed.”

“I’ll behave,” he promised, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes suggested otherwise.

She started carefully, her free hand resting lightly on his cheek to steady herself. As she worked, Harry found himself watching her, his gaze tracing the curve of her lips, the furrow of concentration in her brow, and the way her lashes brushed her cheeks.

“You’re really good at this,” he murmured softly.

“Shh,” Aspen replied, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Don’t distract me.”

But inside, her heart was pounding. She was hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin under her fingertips, the way his breath fanned across her wrist every time he exhaled.

When she finally leaned back to inspect her work, she couldn’t help but laugh. Thick lines of black flooded his waterline, yet it somehow looked good. “Okay, you actually pull this off. I hate that you look good in eyeliner.”

Harry stood and turned toward the mirror, his brows lifting as he examined her handiwork. “Damn,” he said with a grin, tilting his head to the side. “You weren’t kidding. I look... edgy.”

Aspen giggled, capping the eyeliner and tucking it back into her bag. “You’re welcome. Now you can tell everyone you’ve had a professional makeover.”

He turned back to her, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Thanks, wizard.”

Her breath hitched, and she tried to play it off with a light laugh. “Anytime, Potter.”

Harry hummed softly, leaning down to cup her jaw with both of his hands, pressing a kiss to her lips. "'S been too long since I could do that," He grinned, pressing his lips back onto hers.

Aspen wrapped her hands around his wrists, sighing contently. It had been too long since they've had a moment alone. Their lips worked together with ease, each tilt of their heads deepening the kiss. Harry mumbled something against her lips, using his foot to kick the door closed and fumbled out a hand to click the lock shut.

With quick swiftness, his hands dropped down to the back of her thighs, lifting her to wrap her legs around his torso. Harry's lips sprawled out onto her neck as her thighs made contact with the cold counter.

"Harry," She sighed out, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back. His reply was another hum against her skin, his fingers hooking on the hem of the neck of Aspen's shirt to pull it down, his lips following the bare skin. Before she could say anything more, Harry's mouth latched onto her collarbone as his free hand gave her hip a firm squeeze. A breathy moan fell from the girls lips, a sound that was so easy to draw out for Harry.

Harry’s lips trailed lower, his hands steadying Aspen against the counter. She let out a shaky breath, her fingers threading into his soft curls as her heart raced. Her chest rose and fell with every rapid inhale, and she fought to gather her thoughts amid the heat building between them.

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

He pulled back just enough to look up at her, his green eyes dark and full of affection. “Hmm?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her bottom lip nervously. “I... I want to, um... return the favor,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s brows furrowed for a moment before realization dawned on him. He stood straight, his hands shifting to cup her face gently. “Aspen, you don’t have to,” he said firmly, his voice low and reassuring. “Last night wasn’t about keeping score. And right now... 's jus' me wantin' to kiss you a bit. Missed that.”

“I know,” she said quickly, her hands moving to rest on his forearms. “But I want to. I... practiced earlier today.” Her eyes darted away from his, embarrassment flooding her face.

Harry blinked, caught off guard. His lips twitched into a soft smile, but he could see the genuine nervousness in her expression. “Practiced?” he asked gently, his tone curious but kind.

She nodded, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. “For you. I... wanted to be good at it. You’re always so patient and sweet, and I just...”

Harry chuckled softly, pressing his forehead to hers. “Aspen, you’re perfect. You don’t have to prove anything to me. But what d'you mean by practiced?”

A deep red flushed her cheeks, her eyes dropping to anywhere but his. The gentle touch of his thumbs on her skin soothed her. “I... just ordered something,” she squeaked out, "and I spent the morning just... using it? But n-not all the way, but you know." Aspen spluttered out in embarrassment, her eyes meeting his with determination despite her shyness.

He studied her for a moment before nodding. An amused smile turned up his lips but a new flicker of heat flooded his eyes. The thought of her taking anything down her mouth, honestly, made his head spin. “Alright,” he said softly. “But if at any point y'feel uncomfortable, you tell me, yeah?”

She nodded, swallowing hard as her nerves buzzed. “Okay.”

Harry leaned in to kiss her softly, his thumbs brushing her cheeks as if to reassure her. “Take your time, love.”

liding off the counter, Aspen took a deep breath and dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to the buckle of his belt. Harry leaned back against the counter, his fingers gently threading through her hair, offering soothing strokes.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured, his voice warm and steady. “No rush.”

Aspen fumbled with the belt, her hands clumsy with nerves, but Harry’s patient presence helped steady her. She managed to undo it, the soft clink of the metal filling the quiet bathroom, followed by the sound of his zipper. Her breath hitched as she tugged his jeans down just enough, her hands pausing when she saw him.

Her blush deepened as she stared, her mind instantly comparing him to the toy she had practiced with. He was... much bigger.

“Harry...” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Hey,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against her cheek to catch her attention. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

She shook her head, determination flickering in her eyes despite her nervousness. “I want to,” she said, her voice a bit stronger this time, "you're just.. big. Really big."

His thumb gently stroked her jaw, his smile soft and reassuring while a laugh ripped through him. “Just go slow, love. You’re already doing amazing, especially at fueling my ego.”

With a deep breath, Aspen leaned forward, her hand wrapping around the base of him carefully. The warmth of her palm made Harry’s breath hitch, but he remained still, letting her set the pace. He felt heavy in her hands, her hand barely able to wrap around him and she was sure that with two hands wrapped around his length, there'd still be extra.

Aspen pressed a tentative kiss to the tip, her heart racing as she tried to remember everything she had practiced earlier. She glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his as she saw the soft encouragement in his expression. His brows were furrowed slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Gathering her courage, she took him into her mouth, her movements slow and careful. The taste wasn't bad, she thought, maybe even a bit sweet. His tip felt heavy on her tongue, her tongue wrapping around it as best as she could. As she pulled back up, her lips closed around the tip to another kiss. Harry’s hand in her hair tightened slightly, a low groan escaping his lips as she worked.

“God, Aspen,” he breathed, his head tipping back against the mirror. “You’re... incredible.” He quickly looked back down, swallowing once more as he kept his eyes locked on hers.

His words spurred her on, and she continued, her confidence growing with every soft groan and murmured praise that fell from his lips. Aspen laid her tongue flat along the underside of his tip, swirling around the pink head of his cock before she trained the muscle to slide between his slit. A groan rippled through Harry's chest followed by another cuss word.

Taking her chances, Aspen took his cock between her lips again. Her red lips stretched around the length before they curled over her teeth as she sank lower. She whined softly, which made Harry's breath hitch and his grip tighten in her hair.

When she finally pulled back, her lips red and her breathing heavy, Harry looked down at her with a mixture of awe and affection.

“You’re so fuckin' amazing,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But we’re stopping if this is too much.”

Aspen shook her head, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she met his gaze. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

Harry leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he continued to run his fingers through her hair. “You’re perfect, baby. Absolutely perfect.”

With a shy gaze up at Harry, her tongue came out to kitten lick at his tip a couple of times before she returned to her position once more. His brows furrowed, lips parted and wet as he stared down at her. She looked far from his little angel, but he swore he could see wings coming out around her still.

"Fuckin' hell," He moaned, looking down with darker eyes now. They fluttered closed as he felt himself hit the back of Aspen's throat, brows furrowing more at the sensation. Even at a loss for words, every sound he continued to make shot straight to the girls core. She pressed her thighs together at the sound, looking back up at him. His breathing had picked up, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths escaping his nose.

Aspen pressed her tongue flat along the underside of his cock, following the pressure of the vein as she bobbed her head carefully. Harry fumbled down to grab one of her hands on his thighs. The man brought her palm up, leaning forward and letting a dribble of spit past his lips. The man inhaled, setting her slick hand onto the base of his cock.

She was quick to get the message, her small hand syncing up with her mouth. She took heavy breaths, but her determination drove her to swallow around his cock once he hit the back of her throat again.

"Fuck!" Harry groaned, pulling her up and off of his cock. "Fuck, 'm sorry, shit," His voice was hoarse, his eyes locked on the string of saliva that connected from her red lips to the tip of his cock. Aspen looked up at him with her doe eyes, taking heavy breaths herself. She tilted her head in confusion, which Harry was quick to answer.

"I jus', holy fuck," Harry laughed breathlessly, watching as she returned to pressing little kisses to his tip. "Was gonna cum if you.. fuck," he shuddered, closing his eyes as she sucked around the slit.

Harry took ahold of her hand, his arm wrapping around her waist to set her on the counter. "Need t'play with you," He spoke against her lips while his hands fumbled with her shorts. As much as he loved them, and would advocate for her to wear them more often, he needed them off. He slid the material off her thighs and let them bunch up around her ankles, his mouth hotly covering the skin of her exposed neck.

The mans fingers danced along the inside of her thigh while they peeled her panties to the side. He was quick to lay his fingers over her clit, which made her moan out in surprise. "Harry," She whimpered, taking the material of his shirt between her fisted palms.

"I know, baby, I know," He muttered, pulling back to look at her, Her back was flush against the mirror, lips dark red and stained with spit, sporting her doe eyes once more. His green eyes trailed down her chest and to the girls open thighs, and he groaned at the sight of her pussy.

His fingers slid down to her entrance, collecting the slick that collected between to drag up towards her clit. With the newfound wet, he continued to circle her clit while his free hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

"Harry," Aspen moaned, her brows furrowing in pleasure. She arched her hips into his touch, reaching down for the hand on his cock. With flushed cheeks, she looked up at him as she spit into his palm before letting him return.

Harry swore he could pass out. Everything about the moment was so needy and full of want. His head was spinning of just Aspen. The knocks on the door broke him out of his gaze, though that didn't stop him from wrapping his hand around his cock again.

"Busy!" He called out, his eyes breaking from the door to stare at Aspen once more. She was close, he could tell. The way her thighs threatened to close around his hand, the way she got quiet besides her sounds. He was close behind.

Even though he had turned to his hand multiple times because of the thought of Aspen, nothing could compare to actually seeing his visions come to life. The little bead of cum threatening to spill from her entrance made Harry's fingers dip in, collecting the bead onto his fingers along with her slick and he brought it to his lips with a smug smirk.

Aspen whimpered at the sight and only dug her hips further in need for his hands back on her. "H-harry," she breathed, taking a hold of his wrist followed by a high whine. "Please," She breathed out, closing her eyes. The knocking on the door persisted, which drove Harry to quicken his hands on her clit and around his cock.

"Fuck, Asp," Harry groaned, sliding between her thighs. The coil in his stomach built quickly, his brows dropping into a deep furrow with parted lips. His eyes were trained on her fluttering entrance just beneath his slick cock.

"'M so close," The man warned, his dark eyes scanning back up to Aspen through his lashes.

Suddenly, an idea sparked through her mind. She was no stranger to what she read in books with the names they called their partners. The heat settled in her low stomach and a new shrill traveled up her spine.

Aspen cried out only a second later, her thighs shaking around his hand that was buried between her thighs, "Daddy!"

Harry lost it at that. His hand pumped quicker over his cock as a string of curse words filled the room. "Jesus christ, Aspen, what the fuck--!" He gasped, followed by a groan as he hunched forward with a weakening moan that made his chest heave as he painted Aspen's lower stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry whimpered, his hand leaving his cock to force her thighs open.

With heavy breaths, his eyes locked on how her mess covered his hand before they trailed up to her eyes. She looked compeltely fucked out, and that only made Harry's ears ring further. The man was beyond expecting that name from Aspen, or anything besides his name. He'd never given much thought to it, it never really drove him wild in past hookups, but the way her lips quivered and her pussy had clenched around his fingers, he was a goner.

Harry's chest heaved as he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against Aspen's. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the intimate tension gradually giving way to a softer, more vulnerable atmosphere. His hands, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment, tenderly cupped her face.

"You okay, love?" he murmured, his voice hoarse yet gentle. His thumb brushed across her flushed cheek, and his green eyes searched hers for any sign of discomfort or unease.

Aspen nodded, her lips curving into a small, shy smile. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice soft but steady. "I'm... so good." Her cheeks burned, and she couldn't quite meet his gaze. The reality of what she had just said—and how it had affected him—hit her in waves, each one leaving her a little more breathless than the last.

Harry chuckled softly, the sound deep and low, as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Didn't see that one coming," he admitted, a crooked grin forming on his lips. He pulled back slightly, his gaze warm but teasing. "Ya' trying t'kill me, little mouse?"

Aspen let out a nervous laugh, covering her face with her hands. "I don't know what came over me," she admitted, her voice muffled. "I just... I don't even know where that came from!"

Harry gently pried her hands away from her face, his grin softening into a more affectionate smile. "Well, wherever it came from, it was... unexpected. But not unwelcome." His tone was playful but sincere, a reassurance that she didn't need to feel embarrassed. He dipped down and kissed her lips carefully, "Genuinely did somethin' to me, fuck."

As the initial haze began to fade, Harry grabbed a tissue from the counter, carefully cleaning both of them up with a tenderness that made Aspen's heart ache in the best way. She watched him, marveling at the way he cared for her without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He helped her slide her shorts back on before tucking himself back in and zipping himself back up.

When he was done, he leaned against the counter beside her, running a hand through his messy curls. "Y'know," he said, his voice quieter now, "I wasn't lying earlier. Y'really are full 'f surprises, baby."

She finally met his gaze, her lips curving into a genuine smile. "Good surprises, I hope?"

"The best," Harry replied, his voice earnest as he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Always the best."

Aspen felt her heart flutter at his words, her earlier nervousness replaced by a sense of warmth and security. For all the intensity of the moment, it was the way Harry looked at her now—with a mixture of admiration and care—that truly took her breath away.

They stayed like that for a while, fingers intertwined, leaning against the counter in comfortable silence. There was no rush, no need for words—just the quiet understanding that whatever this was between them, it was theirs.

The knocking grew more impatient, more heavy handed which made Aspen flush in embarrassment. "Oh god..."

Harry grinned his lopsided smile, his lip ring catching the light as he helped her back onto his feet. "Come on, better get out before they SWAT the door." He took her hand and intertwined their fingers once more, using his other hand to gently brush through her messy hair.

Harry gave Aspen a reassuring squeeze as he approached the door, his smug grin already forming. Aspen's heart raced at the thought of who might be on the other side. She quickly glanced in the mirror to smooth her hair and adjust her slightly askew top, still blushing furiously. The knocking continued, sharp and insistent, making her wince.

“Relax, love,” Harry teased, his tone laced with amusement as he unlocked the door. “It’s just a party. What’s the worst that could happen?”

As the door swung open, the worst—or perhaps the most unexpected—happened. Kirsten stood there, her eyes immediately landing on Harry, her expression shifting from annoyance to utter shock. Her mouth opened slightly, and her gaze flitted between Harry, his tousled hair and flushed face, and Aspen, who was stepping out from behind him.

Kirsten's shock deepened when she took in Aspen's shy but undeniably proud demeanor. Her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came.

Harry leaned casually against the doorframe, his smirk wide and unmistakable. "Hey, Kirsten," he said, his voice dripping with a playful smugness that only he could pull off. "You looking for something?"

Aspen felt her cheeks flush hot as she stepped out from behind him, her eyes darting to the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at Kirsten, though she felt a strange sense of satisfaction creeping up from deep within her. Maybe it was the fact that Harry didn’t seem fazed at all by the interruption. Or maybe it was the fact that they had just shared something so private, something intimate, and now it was—unintentionally—being displayed right in front of Kirsten.

Kirsten’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and... something else. Aspen wasn’t sure if it was envy or just sheer shock, but it stung all the same. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

Aspen, however, could feel the heat of her own emotions building. She fought to keep her posture relaxed, though her stomach twisted uncomfortably with the unexpected confrontation. Her hands subconsciously squeezed Harrys fingers, her body language betraying her nervousness.

"Is there something you need?" Harry asked again, a touch of mockery in his tone as he looked at Kirsten, his lopsided grin never fading.

“I—uh…” Kirsten finally managed, her voice faltering as she regained some semblance of composure. “I was just—Niall’s looking for you both. That’s all.”

“Is he now?” Harry replied smoothly, his smirk only widening. “Well, we’ll be right out. Thanks for letting us know.”

Kirsten’s eyes darted back to Aspen once more, as if trying to piece together the situation. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she gave a curt nod before turning on her heel and walking off.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Aspen let out a nervous giggle, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my god. She knows.”

Harry turned to face her, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Good,” he said simply, his voice firm but amused. “She needed to.”

Aspen tilted her head at him, her eyes wide. “You’re so smug right now,” she teased, though her tone was light.

“Can you blame me?” Harry asked, stepping closer and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Let her stew on it. She had her chance, and she blew it-- though she never really had a chance, not with you 'round. Now? You’re mine, and I don’t care who knows it.”

Aspen felt her cheeks flush again, but this time it wasn’t out of embarrassment. She nodded, her heart swelling at the possessive yet tender way he spoke. “I guess that’s one way to make an impression,” she said, her lips twitching into a smile.

Harry chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her temple. “Come on, little mouse. Let’s not keep Niall waiting.”

Aspen followed, her head down as she tried to ignore the feeling of Kirsten’s eyes on her. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, the rush of embarrassment and pride battling for dominance in her mind. Her thoughts were chaotic, a mix of everything from the heat of their intimate moment to the surreal feeling of having Kirsten witness their departure. But through it all, one thing remained clear: she didn’t regret it.

As Harry led the way, Aspen caught a glimpse of the smirk on his face, and the feeling of pride bloomed again. She had wanted to send a message to Kirsten, to show that what they had was real and it was theirs. No matter how awkward or strange the situation had become, she couldn’t deny the quiet satisfaction building in her chest.

Kirsten’s shock was everything Aspen needed to see, and in that moment, she realized how much of a weight had been lifted. It wasn’t just about showing Kirsten, it was about asserting herself, about knowing that what she had with Harry was more than a fleeting moment—it was something meaningful, and she had every right to claim it.

As they moved deeper into the house, Aspen stole a glance back at the door, her heart still thudding loudly in her chest. She had no idea what the future held, but for now, she was more certain than ever that this was the path she wanted to walk. With Harry by her side.

And even though the events of the last few minutes had caught her off guard, one thing was certain: she was done hiding.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

bonus! ig posts!

#harry styles #fanfic #one direction #zayn malik #niall horan #fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #wattpad #louis tomlinson #harry styles fanfiction #smut #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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as-is-above-so-below · 2 years ago

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Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 1: It Starts In A Bar

summary: your friends take you out to a local pub when you would much rather be grading assignments. a/n: hello! big surprise, me writing for john price! I don't know how long this will be, but I definitely have a general idea of where I want this to go. I hope y'all like it!

thank you @lethalchiralium for dragging me into the clubhouse kicking and screaming LMAO << Previous | Next >>

Why did they pick this place again?

Ah, right. “It’s a hometown pub, a staple to the community,” they said. That was clear from the couple dozen men and women, ranging from middle-aged to elderly, scattered about, and a few younger folks peppered into the crowd. It wasn’t run down by any means, just…a dive. You mindlessly picked at the peanuts and pretzels in little bowls, elbows perched on the edge of the sticky table, for hours. You chatted and occasionally laughed at the stories they shared about their homeroom students and the shenanigans the other grades got up to. You’d been teaching year thirteen for a while, students taking their A-levels in history.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, spent with a stack of papers to grade, surrounded by glowing candles scattered around your apartment accompanied by soft white string lights stretched across the ceiling. Instead, your friends somehow managed to drag you out of your cozy home to a dark dive in town. You loved them dearly (really, you did), but you had a routine. Your ideal Friday night wasn’t in a damp bar.

Your kids could be challenging at times in their late teens. They occasionally cause trouble, known for getting into fights, interrupting class, or bringing drama into the classroom. Nevertheless, you’d never had a set of students that was more than you could handle. They turned their work in on time and were always nosy about your personal life, which – much to their chagrin – was uneventful. Your love life was stale, to put it nicely. And your friends tried everything in their power to set you up on dates, every single one striking out miserably. It didn’t feel natural to meet some guy at a restaurant for a blind date.

One of them talked about themselves the entire time, barely letting you get a word in. The next ordered about three more drinks than you and a meal that cost twice as much as yours but demanded you split the cost of the date. You were all for splitting the bill but on the first date? Not a good impression.

The rest were uninteresting and immemorable.

“Seriously? You haven’t been on a date since – Oh, what was his name again?”

“Zachary,” you pointed out, taking a long sip of your drink. “You should know; you set up the date.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t realize he was such a bore one-on-one.”

“Thanks for that, by the way. Loved talking to myself for two hours.”

You all laughed at the memory, starting to finish drinks and gather belongings. “Let’s get to the next spot to find you a man!”

Bar hopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you knew better than to resist. It would all be over much faster if you just went along. Your companions were much quicker on their exit, considering the nearly-full drink that you felt like you just bought, and they were already moving on to the next dig. You threw the rest of your drink back, flinching as the big gulp of alcohol burned down your throat, and hurried to catch up with them. You took one of their outstretched hands, giggling as they just about pulled you into the circle exiting the pub–

“Excuse me, miss!” a deep voice called out. You’re not sure why, but you turned, feeling like the man was calling out to you. Your assumption turned out to be correct, and a tall, dark-haired man with a beard and a soft smile approached you. “Sorry, you left this.”

He held your cardigan to you. You must have abandoned it in your haste.

“Oh! Thank you so much. That’s kind of you,” you said, taking the garment back and draping it over your forearm. “I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached,” you added, tapping your temple with a soft chuckle.

“Quite alright.” Behind you, an elbow nudged your spine; you barely caught yourself from making a face and snapping at whichever acquaintance decided to egg you on. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it seems you’re heading out.”

He certainly was handsome. His beard was well-groomed, just like his hair. It looked like he went to a barber fairly recently. He even dressed well, in a cream, ribbed polo tucked loosely into his jeans. Dark chest hair peeked out where the top two buttons were undone. It was an enticing offer…

“Um, yeah, but….” You looked over your shoulder and met expectant glances. Some looked like they were about to bust apart at the seams with glee, which made you roll your eyes. Clearly, you wouldn’t be missed. “I could hang for a little while longer.”

The man's smile grew, and his stance shifted to open a path toward the bar. “Are you sure? Y’don’t have to,” he amended, his hands in his pockets. His energy was warm and soft but still masculine. He held a confidence that not many people carried, at least not the men you’d been on dates with recently. And the Liverpool accent? Maybe things were starting to look up.

“No, no, I honestly need another drink.” You flashed your teeth back to him, folding your arms over your chest with your sweater in hand.

“In that case, after you.”

Before taking his arm, you realized you’d yet to even ask for his name. “Thank you…?”

“John.” John’s right hand hovered before you and he flashed his bright teeth. His hands were clean, nails neatly trimmed. Although, one nail bed was bruised.

Man, he’s pretty for a grown man.

“Y/N,” you replied with an easy grin. He kept a steady hold on your gaze, carefully examining the bright twinkle they held. You didn’t know it, but John had just returned from a long mission. One that had left him yearning for a shower, a haircut, and somebody to come home to. He’d never had anything to look forward to and stay alive for; no affection or comfort after a rough assignment, no one to care for and spoil.

And he wanted that.

“A surname to that, John?” you asked, sliding your hand through the loop he created with his elbow. Holy shit, he was strong. Your hand rested on the soft but well-built muscle of his bicep. You figured he must have a labor-intensive job, or he goes to the gym frequently. John didn’t seem like the type to spend hours at the gym in his spare time, so you went with the first option. You’d keep that in mind when making small talk later.

“John Price.”

“Very regal name.”

John scoffed but laughed nonetheless. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

John couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were unbelievably bubbly, especially for interacting with a stranger who only gave back your forgotten cardigan. He’d been watching you from his spot at the bar, laughing with your friends but zoning out every once in a while. He was no stranger to giving himself a mental break, particularly in a hectic environment like a packed bar on a cool, Friday evening.

“I’ll call you when I need a ride!”

You and John watched the giggly group exit the pub, happily waving as they piled into a cab. You waved back with your free hand, your other palm still pressed against his warm skin. They didn’t embarrass you too badly, thank god. You met John’s eyes, a dark color twinkling with mischief.

“Your friends seem chipper.”

“I’m so sorry. They’re just happy to see me talking to a man.”

“Oh? Is that right?” he chuckled, nodding to your previously held table. John broke away briefly to retrieve his unfinished drink and denim jacket from the bar.

You followed his lead back to the booth, attempting to keep control of the flush you felt beginning to heat your cheeks. “They’ve set me up on many an unfortunate date. Not saying I don’t get along fine on my own, but–”

“It’s rough out there?” he finished, sliding into the cushioned seat across from you. When you nodded in return, John smirked. “Believe me. I get it. My career makes it difficult to find time for much of anything.”

“Yeah, well, I have sixteen kids.”

The man sputtered, choking on what looked to be an old-fashioned. Possibly a bad joke, but it was such a great opportunity; you were feeling frisky, and you couldn’t help the giggles that erupted following his reaction. “I teach history for year thirteen.”

“Oh, thank Christ.” John wiped the cocktail off his lip with the back of his hand, shaking his head at your laughter. “You had me going there. Five minutes into our date, and I’ve made a mess of myself.”

You quirked a brow. “So this is a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, I would consider it light conversation. Getting to know each other.”

“That’s a date.”

“Mmm, I’d say it’s more casual than that.”

“I’m not looking for casual, love.”

You paused, examining his calm demeanor. He didn’t seem cocky, but honest, a welcome change to the pattern you’d observed over the last few months. None of your dates had been so bold as to know what they want and make their intentions clear. Especially not so quickly. It was refreshing.

“Me neither.”

“Good.”

You both sat in peace, pausing your conversation for the waitress. You ordered another drink, as promised, and folded your hands on the tabletop, fingers laced. “So, what do you do, John?” you asked, tapping your thumbs together.

“I’m in the military.”

You paused, expectantly waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence.

“Care to elaborate?”

He tutted once with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “I would love to, but I can’t.”

Interesting. Normally, resistance like that would be a red flag. On the other hand, his job could be “classified” or whatever is said in the movies. No alarms went off in your mind; your intuition told you that John was trustworthy, so you let it go. The pretty brunette dropped your new drink off and another for John.

“I can tell you that I’m a Captain.”

“So you have pretend kids too?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he hummed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. A slight tinge of the citrus notes from the expressed orange peel wafted across the table. John’s laugh was distinctive, chesty and rumbly, inviting. “Of course. Mine are bigger, though, I’m sure.”

“Oh? They’re not scrawny little soldiers?”

“No. One’s almost two meters tall.”

“Jesus. How many?”

“Five. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alex, and Farah.”

“Well, I for one can’t wait to meet them.”

“Likewise.”

You fussed with your hair for about the thousandth time in your bathroom mirror and huffed when it wouldn’t settle right. John was to meet you in about fifteen minutes. Knowing him, that meant he would be buzzing up to your apartment any second. You’d been on a few dates and knew his date habits pretty well. If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late. You had been out to dinner, grabbed coffee once or twice; you even grabbed an ice cream. So, it was a surprise when John suggested a trip to the museum. It didn’t seem like his thing, but you weren’t about to turn down a trip to the history exhibit.

As you expected, a familiar BZZT BZZT reverberated through your flat, signaling his arrival. The first time he picked you up, you let him into the building without using the intercom. You tried explaining that the speaker broke and your landlord had yet to fix it (shocker), but John wouldn’t hear it. You could have been letting in a random creep pressing buttons until some tenant unlocked the door. He insisted on creating a little system, so you would know it was him downstairs and not a kidnapper. From then on, he always rang the bell twice.

You gave up on your hair, switched the light off, and paged him in. Your unit was on the first floor (which wasn’t ideal), so it only took John a few seconds to reach your door. When you heard a knock at your door, you peered through the peephole (as promised) before unlocking the deadbolt, revealing a very well-dressed captain. John’s hair was a bit shaggy, but it suited him well. Your heart fluttered helplessly at the bright smile that appeared when he laid eyes on you, his gaze obviously taking in the sight before him.

It was a weeknight, and you didn’t have time to change between school and your usual errands. You threw a plaid skirt, thigh-high socks, and loose sweater together; just a sliver of skin showed between the top of your socks and hem of your skirt. You felt underdressed compared to John, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

“Hi,” he said, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You look lovely.”

“Same to you. You always clean up well.”

“If you saw the state I’m usually in at work – you’d understand why.”

John kept a watchful eye to make sure you turned both locks for your door before guiding you outside to a waiting taxi with a hand on the small of your back. He held the door to your building and the car open for you. The drive was short, but the weather was starting to catch a bit of a chill, and you didn’t want to walk too far.

Ever the gentleman, the captain followed closely behind you up the steps to the gallery. Even if he weren’t perceptive, with years of experience reading people, he could tell you were excited to be there; however, he wasn’t so experienced in the ‘romance’ department. John honestly couldn’t even remember the last time he visited any museum, let alone a dedicated history exhibition. But when he suggested it and assured you that he would have a good time, he was only being partially truthful. Secretly, the man just wanted an excuse to listen to you talk. What better place to bring you than an exhibit where he knew you would talk his ear off for hours?

You slowly worked your way through each exhibit, explaining some pieces you recognized and their significance to the period; at displays you weren’t familiar with, you both quietly hovered closer to the title cards, reading through the description. While that kind of date wasn’t John’s usual cup of tea, he was glad he planned it; it helped him figure out how to slow the fuck down and try to be normal outside of a military setting or a pub.

His breath nearly stuttered every time you laid a gentle hand on his arm and drew his attention to the next section, beaming as you animately but quietly pointed out the tiny details in a Renaissance painting hung on the wall. The man couldn’t help but stare at how your lips curved at every syllable, wide eyes glued on the intricate scene portrayed. John hadn’t spoken much so far aside from the occasional affirmation that he was listening; he was very much in his head, unsure if you were excited to be there with him or just excited to be there. But, standing in front of the big painting, you went quiet. You met his gaze, and his lips pulled into a lopsided grin, which you returned before you both shifted back to the artwork. It was peaceful, absorbing the atmosphere and just existing together. Suddenly, John was jolted out of his reverie by the feeling of something brushing the side of his palm.

You were itching to hold his hand all night but were too nervous to take that leap. What if he rejected you? That wasn’t likely after so many dates, but still. Your nerves got the better of you for the better half of the self-guided tour. Regardless, you had managed to work up the courage, cautiously grazing your pinky against his wrist and hand before wrapping it around his. You didn’t look away from the illustration, but he did, moving to you, then down to your hands.

He simply stared for a moment, surprised but positively giddy at the same time. Surely enough, John took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and leaning just a bit closer to you. He could stand there forever, basking in your warmth and energy, the sound of your voice sinking into his every thought–

“Oh no,” you said, breaking the silence. You looked up at him worried, wrinkles forming between your brows. “I-I’m sorry. I was teaching again.”

He immediately gave you a reassuring squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Don’t be. I like hearing you talk.” Jesus, did he have a way with words. He liked hearing you talk? With that accent, he could spew nonsense, and it would still draw you in. But hearing John Price give you compliments and praise? Flattery? You were a goner. “Tell me more about the next one?”

As if he could get any more fucking perfect.

“Okay.”

#captain john price x f!reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #john price x teacher!reader #call of duty #captain john price #cardigan as is above so below #as is above so below #cod mw #mw fics #call of duty fanfic #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #teacher!reader #john price x afab!reader

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kellycataclysm · 6 months ago

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Different this time

‘I might have to go to sleep soon, Sweetheart. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t worry. You sound so tired. It’s just nice to talk to you. I… I wish we did this more.’ I laughed, anticipation bubbling within me. ‘I miss you. [...] I feel like I could talk to you all night...’ I closed my eyes and let myself imagine that I was lying next to him. ‘But I should let you get some sleep.’

‘I wish you were here with me.’ His voice was so quiet and gentle.

‘Me too. More than anything. Talk tomorrow?’ [...]

‘Wouldn’t miss it. Good night, Sweetheart.’ We hung up. I placed my phone on the table next to me, staring for a moment at the shining black surface. I sighed loudly, standing up, making my way to the bedroom, that familiar tightness returning to my stomach, thinking of one more thing I wanted to say, sparkling gently below the surface.

‘Harvey, I think I’m falling for you. All over again.’

The above is an excerpt from chapter 20 of my long fic, pretty much the half way point. It was written a while ago and is a moment that I could never get out of my head. I asked my darling friend @sunshinecovey if she could capture the moment and oh my goodness, did she deliver. The details in each panel are so amazing, from the cosy cute cardigan that Lyra is wearing, the plate of cookies with her hot chocolate. The little streaks of grey in Harvey's hair (he's in his late 30's here), his book and glass of wine. The different patterns on the rugs! The way Harvey's tie matches Lyra's hair!

I am so unbelievably in love with this! It captured the moment so beautifully, showing my two just as they take their first tentative steps to growing closer again, and one of my favourite chapters in my long fic.

Thank you again for working with me again Sunny. You are the best!

#stardew valley #stardew valley harvey #stardew harvey #sdv harvey #harvey stardew valley #harvey sdv #lyra and harvey #stardew farmer #stardew lyra #stardew valley fanfic

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rainforestakiie · 7 months ago

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Vacation Away Part 02

hello. this is the second part for @inubaki! of their request!

'Adam and Lucifer get the same idea to take a break on earth. Adam in heaven and Lucifer in hell, both take on human form and embark to earth only to stumble in to one another. Whether or not Lucifer catches onto who Adam’s first is up to you while Adam remains clueless or in denial. They spend the weekend together and basically just begin falling in love without labels or restraint. But they are on a time limit.'

i really hope you like it inubaki! i am working super hard on it! i think there might acturally be one more part or so! i hope anyway!

please let me know if you like it or not!

Vacation Away (Adam/Lucifer goes on vacation on Earth) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03.

At the break of dawn, Lucifer sensed it. He had desperately hoped Charlie was jesting, but the truth was undeniable. Sleep had eluded him after she departed, but then again, Lucifer rarely succumbed to slumber. His mind was a relentless whirlwind, always racing, refusing to be stilled. Rather than cocooning himself in his luxurious quilts and pillows, he had perched atop his four-poster bed, awaiting the inevitable.

Despite his reluctance, a flicker of excitement fluttered within him. He couldn't suppress the surge of wonder that welled up. As the first light of dawn broke, he felt it.

His skin tingled. His fingers twitched, and a long-forgotten hum resonated from the nape of his neck, creeping up to his ears, blurring his vision. Lucifer inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and straightened, feeling his body lift from the bed. Smoky red magic coiled around him, his personal sigil glowing beneath his boot-clad hooves.

The air around him crackled and snapped like an egg's brittle shell. A haunting groan pierced his ears, and the atmosphere within the mansion shifted dramatically. Darkness swirled from all directions, and the sensation of being crushed, chewed, and then expelled clawed at him.

Lucifer's arms arched, his horns protruding from his head, while six majestic wings unfurled from his sides. His long, arrow-tipped tail lashed about behind him. A deep rumble emanated from his throat, and his fiery snake-like eyes flickered open. He was no longer in his dank, cold chamber within the desolate mansion.

He found himself in a quaint room adorned with sunflower wallpaper. The warm glow of the lamps highlighted the white ceiling, and the reddish-brown oak floors contrasted with a mustard yellow carpet. It was charming, yet utterly incongruous with the ritual altar beneath him. Six lit candles surrounded a bright-red painted pentagram directly below his hooves.

Lucifer's eyebrows raised as he surveyed his surroundings. Family photos adorned the walls, and flowers, numerous flowers in vases, filled the space. Bookshelves lined the room, exuding the essence of a cosy family home.

His gaze settled on the lone human before him. She was much older than he had anticipated, wrinkled and raisin-like. Small and hunched, she barely stood, relying on a sturdy walking stick for support.

Lucifer regarded her thoughtfully. Part of him wanted to believe the human seemed too...sweet to be entangled in demonic magic. Clad in a flowery oversized cardigan, long skirt, and a handkerchief, she appeared harmless. But Lucifer knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Humans were rarely as innocent as they seemed; they were corrupt, sick, and twisted. The old lady might look benign, but she wasn't. He could already smell the malevolence.

His stomach churned with revulsion. He harboured a deep-seated disdain for humanity. He detested scrutinising the fruits born of his actions too closely...

At first, they simply stared at one another. The little old woman, wrinkled and ancient, didn't utter a single word as she continued to gaze up at him. Lucifer hovered above her, his six wings awkwardly swaying up and down.

Lucifer waited and waited, and when it seemed she wasn't about to speak, he parted his lips. Only to find himself at a loss for words. How was he supposed to speak to humans again? It had been so long since he was summoned... he'd forgotten the intricacies of it.

There was supposed to be a contract between them, wasn't there? A give-and-take system. Retrieve and send. What had Charlie said again? She was doing this as a 'favor' to Bami. She was already in a contract with the radio demon and probably gained freedom by doing this. Which was insane to Lucifer, he couldn't see that grinning fool losing any soul, especially to help him, the King of Hell.

"I thought you'd be taller," the woman suddenly said.

Lucifer spluttered in surprise. Of all the things he suspected a human would say upon meeting the devil himself, that was the last thing he expected.

"Or less..." the little old lady began thoughtfully, "feminine."

Finally, Lucifer grunted. He curled his wings in, his horns dissolving back into his head, and landed on his feet before the woman. His lips twitched as he found himself practically looming over her. Ha! Finally! Someone shorter than him!

"That's rude," he grumbled dryly. "You should really watch your tone. I am the King of Hell, the—"

"The Devil, fallen angel, yes I know," she hummed, beginning to wobble around him. The old lady started blowing out the candles and gathering them up.

Lucifer watched her, feeling rather insulted. He had never been...so, what's the word? Disregarded? Rejected? Disappointed? Lucifer frowned deeply. The last time he was summoned, the silly humans had tripped over themselves trying to please him, offering anything they could. This little old lady was practically ignoring him as she cleaned up the summoning ritual altar. It left Lucifer standing awkwardly behind her, fidgeting with his claws and hooves. He felt rather put out, like a naughty child who had just been scolded.

How mortifying.

"If you are going to stand there like that, you can help me clean up the blood," the woman said, gesturing towards the mop beside him. "I had to sacrifice my finest goat for you. It was such a hassle."

Lucifer opened and then shut his mouth. He wanted to unleash his power, make the old raisin woman cower before him, but he didn't. His eyes flickered to the green mop and then back to the blood staining the wooden panels. It did look messy... humans generally do go through a lot to summon him.

"I could just snap my fingers and have it cleaned," he said, almost sulkily.

The woman scoffed. "Hard labour is good for the mind."

Once again, the devil wanted to snap in return. He had never been so disrespected by a living human before. The sinners, while displeased with him and how he had treated his role, were still fearful of him. But Lucifer found himself obeying anyway! Why he was doing what she wanted was beyond him, but he decided it was because he had nothing better to do.

His claws wrapped around the pole of the mop, and awkwardly, he began to wipe up the blood. He was supposed to be here for a break, for a vacation, not hard labour work.

"What?" Lucifer exclaimed, noticing the woman watching him with a snort. "What, what am I doing wrong?"

The old, hunched woman made a sound from the back of her throat. "You’ve never done a day of work in your life, have you? I can tell."

Lucifer's eyes widened as he looked at his hands, then the mop, and back at the woman. His face contorted with frustration, confusion, and a hint of reflection. But just as his temper was about to boil over, he reined it in, settling for a scowl instead.

"My name is Dorothy," the old woman said once the room was cleaned up. "This is my inn, and you are a guest here. I won’t tolerate any shenanigans."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who I am? Seriously?"

"Of course I do. I’m not that naïve," she replied with a laugh. "Do you think I should be afraid of you? I’m nearing the end of my life. I’m probably going to Hell anyway, so what’s the worst that could happen?"

"I am the King of Hell," Lucifer said, staring down at the woman. "And since you’re in a contract with Bambi, you’re heading straight to my domain. I could make your afterlife ten times worse."

Dorothy shrugged. "You won’t be able to."

"What?" Lucifer asked, bewildered.

"My end of the bargain to summon you to Earth," she explained nonchalantly. "The demon holding my soul has agreed to take me once I become a ‘Sinner.’ I’m tired of life. I’ve lived long enough, and when it ends, I want that to be the end."

Lucifer stared in disbelief. So that was it? Alastor had agreed to end her life when she was reanimated as a Sinner? It was strange.

"Anyway, if you’re going to stay up here for a week, we need to draw up a contract," Dorothy said with an air of familiarity. It was a bit bewildering how she spoke, as if she had negotiated thousands of contracts before, which she probably had. "Contracts are about give and take. Your side of the deal will be to stay here."

Lucifer snorted and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I invented contracts. I know how they work. You don’t need to explain my own creation to me."

"Well, I wasn’t sure you did," Dorothy replied with a shrug. "You had this clueless expression on your face. Can’t blame a girl for assuming."

"You have some nerve to keep insulting me," Lucifer muttered darkly.

Dorothy laughed. "Nerve? My, you must be half blind too. I’m a woman, darling. I don’t have balls."

"I know that!" Lucifer snapped, his face flushing. "I just meant—never mind! Let’s get this over with. Clearly, you know better than I do!"

"Clearly I do," Dorothy said with a smirk. "My side of the contract is allowing you to stay on Earth for the week. Your side is simple. You will work for me at my florist. Only in the mornings, of course. I understand this is supposed to be a... vacation for the devil himself."

She laughed at the absurdity of it. "The devil himself needing a vacation—who would have thought?"

"Not that it’s any of your business, but I have my own problems to deal with," he hissed, his posture bristling like a cornered animal.

"Relax," Dorothy waved a dismissive hand. "We all have our secrets. Some are best kept buried, right?"

Lucifer puffed his cheeks out in frustration. "So, a florist?"

"That’s right," Dorothy confirmed. "I run a family-owned florist. My daughter usually helps out, but she’s a bit busy this week, so I need an extra pair of hands. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult for you, your Majesty," she said slyly, extending her wrinkled hand. "Do we have a deal?"

With a resigned sigh, Lucifer rolled his eyes and extended his clawed hand. He grasped hers, shaking it as golden light shimmered around their hands. Golden chains looped around their wrists, locking the contract into place until the end of the week, when Lucifer would return to Hell.

He supposed anything was better than Hell.

"Excellent!" Dorothy chimed brightly. "Let me show you to your room."

At least he had his own room…

“I would suggest altering your appearance. You definitely don’t look natural. Others will notice.”

The moment he was left alone in the room that would be his for the week, Lucifer dropped onto the edge of the bed. His head fell into his claws, and his top hat tumbled onto the bed next to him. He couldn't believe what he was doing. A vacation? A break? What was Charlie even thinking?

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Heaven was more aggressive than ever before. Michael was involved now, when he hadn't been in the past. God knows what his younger brother would do. Everything was wrong, everything was upside down, and Charlie was left to deal with it all. It was just one week, but a lot could happen in that one week.

Lucifer rubbed his face, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his cheeks and eyes. He was tired, but he knew his brain would never allow him to settle enough to slumber. Lucifer tilted his head up, staring at the full-length mirror across from him. He shook off the alluring thoughts of having a mirror in such a position and stood up.

He stuck out on Earth. He looked too different from humans, didn't he? Dorothy was correct about that at least.

Inching towards the mirror, Lucifer leaned in close. His claws plucked at his shiny blonde hair, lightly twirling it around his claw. His face was cherry-shaped with bright red circles imprinted upon them, sharp teeth, and fiery eyes. Yeah. He definitely would stick out. He had no nose or ears. Too unhuman-like.

Closing his eyes, Lucifer snapped his fingers and felt his magic enclose around him. After a few seconds of his magic washing over his body, altering his form, Lucifer opened his eyes again to look upon himself.

He definitely looked different... more human-like.

His face was still cherry-shaped, with more human-like rosy cheeks and large sea-blue eyes. His hair was a strawberry blonde and appeared much more unkempt than the natural neat style he kept it in. Lucifer tilted his head, seeing a small curve of his fake nose and the ears poking out of the strawberry blonde curls. But most of all, his hands and feet were different. He had normal hands again, albeit fake, just a glamour hiding the monstrous claws he had. Lucifer's eyes trailed down to his boots, and with another snap of his fingers, his standard circus clothes vanished into a simple t-shirt and jeans. More human-like, he supposed, with sneakers instead of boots.

Lucifer kicked the sneakers off, raised a foot to touch it. It was a human foot. His magic had disguised his hoof into a foot.

He sighed deeply, the weight of his disguise pressing down on him. He looked back at the mirror, examining every detail of his new form. He was just a stranger now, a temporary guest in a quaint little inn. The King of Hell, reduced to this.

For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder what this week might bring. Perhaps it was a chance to escape, to breathe, to be something other than the ruler of damnation. He shook his head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it came.

With another deep breath, Lucifer turned away from the mirror. He had a role to play, and for now, he would play it. He stepped out of the room, ready to face whatever this strange human world had in store for him.

“I’ll call my Samuel. I doubt humans would take it well if I call myself Lucifer…”

~#~

“Samuel, this is Graham. You’ll be working together in the mornings.”

Lucifer felt stiff all morning, his weariness heavier than ever. He hadn’t slept as he expected and dragged himself to the florist. He knew he was basically running late, but who cared? What would Dorothy do? He snorted at the thought as he shuffled out of the inn. The florist wasn’t hard to find; it was directly across from the inn.

Where was he? The air was sweet, reminiscent of Eden.

Flowers were everywhere.

Soon enough, Lucifer found himself inside the florist, standing in the doorway to the workshop. He squinted, staring at Dorothy and the young man beside her. His eyebrows knitted together as he observed the man, watching him squirm under his gaze. It sent a thrill through Lucifer, something he hadn’t expected and had almost forgotten how it felt.

His lips curled into a wide smile as he stepped toward the man. Lucifer’s eyes roved up and down the man’s body, taking in his rich red hair, caramel amber eyes, and pale skin. The freckles across his face were delightful, and Lucifer had the urge to reach up and count them.

What had Dorothy said his name was again?

Ah. Graham.

Graham? Lucifer’s smile widened, becoming somewhat predatory as he eyed the man. He was lovely. He appeared rather delicious. Lucifer had the urge to strip him, just to see if he had freckles in other places.

Lucifer slid a delicate pale hand out. “It’s lovely to meet you, Graham. I hope we can get along.”

Graham. The name sounded odd on his tongue. Lucifer felt a shiver run up his spine. Graham? Graham. It wasn’t right. It was a fake name. His mind swirled as he stared into the man’s amber eyes.

Oh!

This wasn’t Graham.

Cute disguise, he almost said but swallowed it back down. Immediately he felt lighter, more relieved as he gazed upon the form of Adam. It was one-hundred percent Adam. There was no denying it. Lucifer recognized the soft curl of the lips pinched crookedly and the way his eyebrows twitched, all signs Lucifer had only ever seen in Adam.

Adam stared at the hand and quickly wrapped his own around Lucifer’s. If Lucifer had been unsure before, he was definitely sure now. A spark of electricity coursed through their skin at the contact. Lucifer’s eyes were unmoving as he stared into Adam’s, checking to see if he noticed the spark.

It was disappointing to see not even a wince.

“Nice to meet you too,” Adam mumbled quietly. “Um… Samuel.”

Lucifer’s lips formed a smirk. “I’m sure we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

Lucifer's presence in the cosy, floral-scented workshop was both unsettling and exhilarating. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the vibrant blooms and adding an almost ethereal quality to the scene. Despite the brightness, an undercurrent of tension thrummed in the air.

Dorothy, seemingly oblivious to the charged atmosphere, busied herself with arranging flowers, her movements precise and practised. She glanced up occasionally, her eyes sharp and knowing, but she said nothing. The old woman’s silence spoke volumes, leaving Lucifer to navigate this strange encounter on his own.

Adam shifted nervously under Lucifer’s intense gaze. The young man’s discomfort was obvious, yet there was a familiarity in his eyes that made Lucifer’s heart race. A sick satisfaction churned inside him upon seeing he could still arise the same reaction after so many years. He knew this soul, this presence. It was like a melody long forgotten, now playing softly in the background of his mind.

Lucifer's thoughts raced as he studied Adam. His disguise was nearly perfect, but Lucifer saw through it. The subtle nuances in his expressions, the way he held himself—it all screamed Adam.

The initial tension between them began to ease, replaced by a simmering curiosity. What was Adam doing here, in this quaint little florist shop, masquerading as someone else? And why had Dorothy involved him in this charade?

Lucifer’s mind was a whirlwind of questions, but he kept his composure. He couldn’t afford to reveal his hand too soon. Instead, he decided to play along, to see where this unexpected encounter would lead.

“Well, Graham,” Lucifer said, savouring the name on his tongue, “It looks like we’ll be working together. I hope you’re ready for an interesting week.”

Adam nodded, his eyes flickering with something that might have been recognition. “Yeah, I guess so. Just… don’t mess up the arrangements, okay?”

Lucifer chuckled, a low, melodious sound that seemed to fill the room. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a good eye for detail.”

As they began their tasks, Lucifer couldn’t help but steal glances at Adam, marvelling at the strange twist of fate that had brought them together. The week ahead promised to be anything but ordinary, and for the first time in a long while, Lucifer felt a spark of genuine anticipation.

The King of Hell, working in a florist shop, reconnecting with an old acquaintance under the guise of a simple human. The irony was delicious, and Lucifer intended to savour every moment of it.

For the first time in almost a century, Lucifer felt a bit better.

~#~

Adam struggled to find the words to describe the feeling. He was undeniably uncomfortable. Working with Samuel was an overwhelming experience. The short, blonde man seemed to have his eyes glued to him, always watching, always staring. Even when they were supposed to be working together to create the bouquet, Samuel's intense gaze never wavered. Adam couldn't concentrate properly, and it was only his first shift volunteering. He didn't want to quit just because this guy was creeping him out, but Adam really wished Samuel would stop staring at him like that.

Suddenly, a gentle chime emanated from the small machine beside them, and Adam exhaled with relief as Samuel's intense blue eyes finally shifted to the device. A delicate, pale-pink piece of paper emerged, and Samuel plucked it with careful precision.

"Sunshine Happiness?" Samuel read aloud, his brows furrowing in perplexity. "An order for a Sunshine Happiness bouquet?"

"Oh, that's straightforward," Adam replied, his cheeks flushing crimson as Samuel's gaze returned to him. Adam took a deep breath, wiping his gloved hands on his apron and moving around the shorter blonde. "We need yellow tulips, orange gerbera daisies, and white lilies."

Like a loyal companion, Samuel followed closely. A shiver danced down Adam's spine as the strawberry-blonde man trailed behind him to the main florist area, bursting with a kaleidoscope of flowers. Adam couldn't help but find them breathtaking.

"What's wrong with your foot?" Samuel asked softly, his eyes lowered as he noticed Adam lightly dragging his left foot. "Did you hurt it?"

Surveying the blooms, Adam crouched by the bucket of yellow tulips. He lifted his right hand to pick one, but it slipped from his fingers. Adam grimaced and used his left hand instead.

"I had an accident," he said tersely. "It's personal."

"Oh." Samuel blinked slowly, his gaze now fixed on Adam's right hand. "What happened?"

Holding the tulip, Adam twirled it between his fingers and inhaled its sweet fragrance. Yes, these were the right ones. Carefully, he gathered more, cradling them in his left hand.

"I said it's personal," Adam grumbled. "Help me out. I can't use my right hand properly, so you'll need to carry the rest."

Samuel's face clouded with concern as he moved closer to Adam, bypassing the flower buckets. "What happened to your right hand?"

"Hold these," Adam instructed, thrusting the tulips into Samuel's arms. "Stop being nosy. We barely know each other."

Samuel seemed poised to protest, but Adam's raised eyebrow silenced him. With a shrug, Adam stepped around him and zeroed in on the bucket of orange gerbera daisies, moving to gather them too.

"Now we just need white lilies," he said, trying to steer the conversation away. "Each flower has a meaning. That's why it's called Sunshine Happiness. Yellow tulips signify cheerfulness and sunshine. Orange gerbera daisies represent happiness and friendship. White lilies symbolise purity and commitment."

Samuel continued to shadow Adam around the florist. "Is it nerve damage? How did it happen? Have you had it long?"

Adam's lips twitched in irritation. Samuel's persistent questions were grating on his nerves. He wanted to stomp away and shut himself off from the barrage of personal inquiries and that incessant stare.

"Ah, there are the white lilies," he breathed, eagerly moving to the bucket. The faster he gathered the flowers, the better. Adam's amber eyes flicked to the clock; it was nearly eleven, meaning he wouldn't have to endure Samuel's company much longer.

"You can't feel anything in your right hand?" Samuel continued to prattle. "How bad is it?"

"It's personal!" Adam snapped, standing with a few white lilies in his arm. He spun to face the shorter man, glaring down at him. "How many times do I have to say it's personal? Stop asking about it!"

Samuel's expression shifted oddly. Adam couldn't fathom what was wrong with him, but his curiosity was infuriating. Weren't people taught manners anymore?

"We hardly know each other, so back off." Adam sighed, running a hand down his face in frustration. "I'm sorry. It's just a very personal and sensitive issue for me, okay? I don't want to talk about it."

Blinking slowly, Samuel nodded, his head bowed. Adam felt a pang of guilt at Samuel's crestfallen expression, but he couldn't retract his words. His injury was a sore, private matter.

"Anyway, the Sunshine Happiness bouquet is meant to radiate joy and is perfect for celebrating happy occasions or brightening someone's day," Adam explained, turning sharply to return to the workstation. "It's our last bouquet for today. Let's hurry and finish it. I'm tired and just want to lie down."

Adam was indeed exhausted. He longed to lie down but also yearned to explore Lesse. He wanted to visit the Keukenhof Forest, the historic Ter Specko, and the Black Tulip Museum. He had plans, whether people believed him or not. There were places he wanted to see.

"Okay," Samuel mumbled quietly, sounding genuinely upset.

Adam sighed to himself.

~#~

Did he do that?

Lucifer swallowed thickly as he stared after Adam, watching him limp and drag his foot behind him. His chest ached, and his stomach churned. His lips pressed together, tilting downward with a small quiver. No matter what Lucifer did, he couldn't tear his eyes away from Adam's feet. Adam hadn't been limping before, had he? No, he definitely hadn't. Lucifer would have remembered. His heart pounded as he fiddled with the next bouquet order. He'd been too pushy and Adam had snapped at him, Lucifer had tried to rein himself in. He knew he was being overbearing, but... but...

There was no excuse. Lucifer couldn't understand what was wrong with him. The sight of Adam struggling to walk, struggling to hold things with his right hand, sent his heart leaping into his throat in horror. The first and only thought that stuck was: I did that.

Lucifer did that.

Was that why Adam wasn't at the Heaven meetings? Is this why Michael and Sera seemed furious with him? Had... had Lucifer really gone too far? He hadn't meant to hurt Adam so badly. It was just supposed to be a scare tactic.

Lucifer bit back a grumble. Two full days had passed, and both days he had failed at striking up a meaningful conversation with Adam. It felt as though the man was purposely avoiding him, yet they were both 'volunteering' at the same time, in the same place!

He glanced at Adam again, making sure he wasn't about to run away this time.

"I'm sorry," he finally said after two long hours of silence. "I-I'm sorry... for yesterday. I was rude. Insensitive. I shouldn't have... done that."

Adam paused in arranging the pink and red tulips for their newest bouquet. He blinked in surprise and looked at Lucifer. "I knew you were being too quiet."

"I don't normally talk that much," Lucifer said weakly. "I just... I don't know. I was rude, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really. I was rude too." Adam shrugged and sent him a half-smile. "So stop beating yourself up over it, okay, Samuel? It's fine."

Samuel?

Oh right. That was his fake name.

Lucifer nodded, and silence seeped between them once more. His eyes lowered, gazing at the mess of stems and leaves scattered before him. His fingers twitched, fiddling with one of the stems.

"Um, so... do you have any plans today?" he sheepishly asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.

Adam clicked his tongue. "Yeah. I want to go to the Keukenhof Forest. It's the main reason I came all this way... I was supposed to go yesterday, but I was too tired."

"Oh." Lucifer deflated. There went his clever plan of spending more time with Adam. He had come to the realisation that the few hours they spent together weren't enough.

"You... you can come with me if you want?" Adam awkwardly suggested. “I mean, if you’ve got nothing else to do and if you even want to…”

"Yes!" Lucifer exclaimed before blushing and composing himself. "I mean, yes please. That would be great."

Adam eyed him before shrugging. Lucifer let out a sigh he didn't realise he'd been holding. At this rate, Adam would think he was a real weirdo...

Maybe he already did.

~#~

The forest was a verdant tapestry, rich with ancient oaks, stately beeches, and towering conifers, their intertwined branches forming a lush, emerald and golden canopy overhead. The forest floor was an artist's palette, blanketed in vibrant hues of bluebells, wild hyacinths, tulips, and buttercups, creating a magical mosaic of blues, purples, and yellows. Every conceivable flower found a home here, transforming the ground into a living, breathing masterpiece. Well-maintained paths wound gracefully through the trees, inviting visitors to lose themselves in the forest's serene and enchanting embrace.

On the west side, pink and purple tulips danced together in the breeze, creating mesmerising waves of color that captivated the eye. A sea of blue flowers extended from the south, merging seamlessly with patches of orange, white, and green blooms, a symphony of colours that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"It's so beautiful," Adam exhaled, his voice filled with awe. Gratitude swelled in his heart for Emily, who had insisted on this break. The sight before him was one of the most exquisite he had ever witnessed, warming his chest with an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries.

The scene was Edenic, stirring memories of the paradise he once knew. As a warm summer breeze tousled their hair, Adam's gaze lingered on the blossoms. Woodpeckers rhythmically tapped the trees, rousing the dozing owls, while songbirds filled the air with their ceaseless melodies. Squirrels darted playfully among the branches, and rabbits ventured shyly from their burrows. Even a deer or two could be seen gracefully passing through.

"So beautiful," Samuel echoed softly, his blue eyes reflecting a quiet, almost pained admiration as he watched Adam. Every subtle shift in Adam's expression, every minute tremor, was absorbed by Samuel's attentive gaze.

Adam hummed, lost in wonder, his lips curling into a breathtaking smile. Sensing Samuel's intense stare, he turned, eyebrow raised in silent inquiry, questioning yet comfortable in the shared, profound moment.

Awkwardly, Samuel rubbed the back of his neck and tilted away. "It's pretty warm. Do you want ice cream? Let's get some ice cream!"

"Oh, um, okay." Adam watched the shorter man hurry toward the ice cream stand nearby, eyebrows raising further. Samuel was a peculiar human with a penchant for staring. In Adam's opinion, he stared far too much. Since their less-than-pleasant first meeting, Adam had noticed Samuel seeking opportunities to talk to him over the past two days. Adam had done his best to avoid it. He didn't know why. He didn't think Samuel had any malicious intentions; he was just curious. But something inside him kept whispering not to trust Samuel.

Still, Samuel looked so innocently cute. Adam couldn't decide. Perhaps it was his trust issues acting up again. But maybe he had been too harsh. Maybe Samuel was just like him—lonely and looking for a friend. Adam could handle that. It might even be nice to have a friend outside of Heaven and Hell.

"I don't know what flavour you'd like, but I got you a simple mini-chocolate. Can't go wrong with that!" Samuel gasped, returning with the cone. "Here!"

Startled when Samuel thrust the ice cream towards him, Adam's eyes widened as he took the cone bashfully. "O-Oh, you didn't need to buy me one. I was about to come over and get one myself."

The red flush that coloured Samuel's face was unexpectedly endearing, adding an extra layer of sweetness to his already charming demeanour. Adam found himself charmed by it, thinking it made Samuel look even more delightful.

"Um," Samuel stammered, shifting awkwardly, his social discomfort mirroring Adam's own. Maybe Samuel really was like him after all. "I wanted to. You invited me, so I figured it would—um, it would...even things out?"

Adam chuckled as Samuel winced at his own rambling. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

As if a switch had been flipped, the strawberry-blonde man’s face lit up with a radiant, blinding grin, showcasing his perfect teeth. Adam couldn’t help but return the smile, and together, they continued along the trail, savouring their ice cream—Adam with mint chocolate and Samuel with strawberry.

"So, um, why did you come to...Lesse?" Samuel asked quietly, wincing as if he had made a mistake. "I’m sorry if I’m prying. Feel free to tell me to shut up if you want."

Adam snorted, tilting his head and peering at Samuel from the corner of his eye. "I needed a break from the stress back home. Just needed some time away."

"Really?" Samuel straightened, looking up at Adam with newfound interest. "I-I mean, cool, me too! We have so much in common! We both have stress back home! Um..."

A laugh bubbled from Adam’s lips. "You’re so strange."

"Ha-ha-ha..." Samuel chuckled sheepishly, his forced smile melting into a genuine one as his shoulders relaxed. "I’m sorry. I’m not used to... this. Talking to people. I’m typically... alone. I don’t, I’m not around people often."

"You don’t need to explain yourself," Adam said, his tone warm. "I get it. We all have our struggles. I’m not exactly a social butterfly myself. I’m probably just as bad at it."

A weak, uncertain chuckle escaped Samuel, his shoulders slumping slightly. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "A-Anyway, you were saying? Y-You needed time away from home? Bad stuff happened?"

"You could say that," Adam replied, glancing down at the ice cream in his left hand. It felt odd using his left hand now; he had always been right-handed. The switch felt awkward and forced. "A lot of things happened with my...family. My head wasn't in a great place to begin with, but then some drama happened, which just made everything worse."

Samuel's gaze softened as he watched Adam’s feet, noticing the way he dragged them slightly. He winced, sensing the weight of Adam's words. "Did... did it involve your accident?"

Adam was silent for a moment, his eyes dropping to his own feet before he released a deep sigh. "Yeah, there was a lot of family drama surrounding my accident. I needed to get away, hoping some distance might help me, you know, feel better."

"I see." Samuel bit his lower lip, his expression full of genuine concern.

It was odd but endearing—Samuel seemed more genuinely empathetic than anyone Adam had encountered in a long time. It was strange, considering how little Samuel knew him, yet he showed more compassion than he’d ever received from Heaven. Adam inhaled deeply, savouring the sweet fragrance of the surrounding flowers.

"What about you, Sammy?" Adam teased playfully, his smile widening as Samuel looked at him in surprise and a touch of confusion. "Why are you in Lesse? Did you travel all the way here just to see the blossoms too?"

Samuel seemed to ponder for a moment before arriving at a decision. It was oddly charming how he bit his lower lip and scrunched up his tiny nose in thought, a lock of strawberry-blonde hair falling across his forehead and brushing his delicate blue eyes.

"For similar reasons, I guess," he said softly, his voice gentle. "I... haven’t been in the best headspace either. I've been pretty sick—yeah, sick for a while now. I wasn’t helping myself; I was making myself worse and…"

Adam's heart ached as he saw the pain etched on Samuel’s face.

"My daughter practically forced me out of the house," Samuel continued weakly. "She said it was unhealthy for me to stay locked inside like I had been. My... ex-wife left me about eight years ago, and it hit me hard. I was already sick before she left, but I guess she just got tired of watching me deteriorate."

"That's terrible," Adam said, disbelief coloring his voice. "She just left you because you were unwell?"

Samuel shrugged meekly, his gaze drifting to the beautiful flowers around them. "I guess she grew tired of trying to help me or something. She wasn’t the most loving person; in fact, she was pretty cold. One day, she just up and left. Sent me divorce papers the very next day."

Frowning deeply, Adam felt a surge of anger but managed to keep it in check. "I'm really sorry to hear that. If it means anything, I think it's her loss. She’ll regret it eventually. I believe you’re a better person than she ever was."

Samuel’s eyes widened in astonishment, as if Adam had handed him the moon. "You really think I'm a better person?"

"Well, yeah," Adam replied with a smile. "I think you are. Everyone makes mistakes and faces uncertainty. It’s the good people who try to make amends and move forward."

Samuel was quiet for a few moments, absorbing Adam’s words. His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, the redness in his cheeks softening as he processed the compliment. After a few seconds, he looked up at Adam and gave him a real, genuine smile—a smile so warm and heartfelt that it nearly brought Adam to his knees. It was a smile Adam had only seen once before, centuries ago in Eden.

His heart skipped a beat, and Adam swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks flush warmer than they should.

“I really hope that someday I can become a…good person.” Samuel said warmly.

“I’m sure you will be.”

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