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almostempty · 2 months

Text

Self Esteem

Pairing: fuckboy!joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel blows you off for your date. You end up blowing him when he shows up looking to score. Inspired by the song Self Esteem by The Offspring.

Warnings: kinda mean/fuckboy joel, mild dub con, smut, PWP, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, joel comes on your tits, dirty talk, one (1) slap, choose your own joel era, readers on some dumb bitch juice for this man (i would be too), hit and run, smash and dash,

Notes: PLEASE send any feedback, this is the first thing i’ve ever written and posted, i’m tryn’ to practice and gain confidence bc my dream fic doesn’t exist so i gotta write it, it’s scary to post, y’all are so brave wtf

WC: 2.9K

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57513220

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 3: Kick and Scream

Masterlist: Here

It’s a moderately painful type of suffering. Like purgatory. You’d made plans to go out tonight with Joel. It’s useless to expect him to show up, but you got ready and anxiously paced around your living room anyway. Checking your phone, at thirty minutes past the time he had said he’d pick you up. You sent him a text. His read receipts were on; he saw your message. Another thirty minutes pass agonizingly slowly. He hasn’t responded. You can feel a mild headache forming behind your eyes.

You grab a drink from your fridge and collapse on the couch with a sigh. A mixture of anger, regret, and rejection churns in your gut. You shouldn’t have set yourself up for disappointment.

No, he shouldn’t be such an asshole. You’ve got to stick up for yourself. Tell him off for his bullshit. The manipulation, standing you up, the lies. You know he’s using you.

Unfortunately, you find the toxic rush addictive. The way he charms and seduces you after disappearing or acting like an idiot. You enable his behavior every time.

And it’s sick that you like it. You like knowing it’s your door he knocks on in the middle of the night. He won’t take you on a date, but he still can’t stay away.

No. Not this time. You’re done letting him waste your time with plans that never materialize. You’re going to practice all the things you should say. Tell him to fuck off.

You grab another drink and return to the couch. The rejection is sinking in, and you’re feeling pretty low. You silence notifications from him in an attempt to take control of your thoughts. To stop waiting for it to light up with his name. You aren’t going to keep waiting for him.

You shower and change into a big T-shirt and underwear. Returning to the couch, you turn on some trash TV to shut your brain off. It helps. Keeps you distracted. When it hits 2 AM, you crawl off the couch and turn out the lights. You hope you’re tired enough to sleep without Joel haunting your thoughts.

You’re getting a glass of water to take to bed when you hear the knock at your door. Your stomach swoops and your body tenses with excitement.

You’re fucked.

You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face.

He’s like a stray cat. Or, more like a tomcat. You know he’s gonna sweet talk his way in. You should ignore him. You should leave him outside on your doorstep, horny and alone. Let him feel rejected this time.

You crack open the door and face Joel. He glows in the moonlight, stupid eyes sparkling when he looks at you. He leans an arm on the door frame and purrs at you.

“Baby.”

You roll your eyes. His breath smells like whiskey.

“What the fuck, Joel? Where were you?”

He frowns. Big brown eyes try to weaken your defenses.

“Work thing.”

“Til 2 AM?”

“One of the guys on the crew. Was his birthday, so we had to take him out.”

You don’t believe him. You feel the urge to slap him across his scruffy cheek. You feel the urge to pull him in and kiss him.

No. You can’t listen to that voice. The voice that still gets butterflies over him showing up at the door. He’s only here because all the bars closed, and now he’s looking to score.

He preys on your moment of weakness. You’re in a debate with your inner demons, and he barges his way into your space. He moves like a blur. You blink and his rough hand is tracing the line of your jaw.

He’s caging you in against the back of your door. He leans in closer. Hot breath fanning over your face. Your breath is still caught in your throat. You have half a mind to shove him off of you and begin your lecture, but he gives you no chance.

He presses urgent kisses and bites along your jawline and down the column of your throat. A vampire at your door. You didn’t invite him in, but he’s got his teeth sinking into your flesh anyway.

He smells like sweat, sawdust, and some over-scented men’s deodorant. Smells like a man, your lizard brain thinks.

Trapped between him and the door, the closeness is intoxicating. His body is large and powerful and radiates a frenetic energy. Like he’s buzzing with need for you. You can’t help it; you like feeling wanted like this. Desired. The way he crashes into you like a feral beast—

“Wait.” Some sense flashes into your conscience.

“Hmm?” he growls in your ear. His face is still buried against your neck while his hands grope at your body. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. His hands move to knead at your breasts through your soft, faded shirt. You fight to ignore the pleasure.

“Joel.”

“Hmm.”

“You can’t just show up in the middle of the night after bailing on me and expect to get laid.”

His hands slide under your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes you dizzy. He pinches and pulls at your nipples, and you fight back a moan, trying to refocus.

“Joel!” you snap at him.

“C’mon, I’m sorry, baby,” he coos into your skin.

He rocks his hips against you, and the sensation of his hard bulge in his jeans against your soft skin sends a jolt of need through your nervous system. The words you practiced earlier slip further and further from your mind.

“You can’t keep treating me like this.” You lob at him. The rest of your speech is hazy. You're grasping at sentence fragments, trying to remember the points you wanted to make.

“Not gonna keep working.”

“Quit,” he replies sharply.

“What?”

One of his large hands slides up, still under your shirt, bunching it up, and wraps around your throat. He bites at your chin. Sharp teeth. He kisses your cheek. Soft lips. He nips your earlobe. You gasp. He sucks it into his hot mouth. Your eyes slam shut.

You feel like you’re at his mercy, and the cavewoman inside of you just wants him to drag you to bed.

“Quit arguing,” he grumbles. His deep voice in your ear sends a rush of arousal down your spine.

“It’s not fair,” you protest.

He shifts. His hands travel downward to squeeze at the plush skin of your ass. He tugs you forward and shoves his knee between your legs. You lose any train of thought. Cruel man. You don’t care anymore. You’ll let him keep tearing pieces out of your heart. As long as you can keep using each other's bodies.

The pressure and friction of his thigh against your tingling pussy is the ultimate betrayal. You can’t stop the whiny gasps that come out of your mouth at the contact.

He lets out a satisfied chuckle at that. Cocky bastard.

“Not fair,” he repeats after you. “Hmm. Tell that to your wet cunt dripping on my leg, baby.”

Your core flutters at his words. You feel your face flush, but it’s hard to argue with him.

“I think you want me,” he continues.

You try to glare at him. Your hips don’t care, though, as they roll against him.

“S’alright, baby.”

You wish it were.

“I only want you.”

You desperately want to believe him. You shove that thought out of your mind.

He pulls your shirt off and rakes his eyes down your body. He’s menacing. His broad shoulders and tense muscles loom over you. He’s fully clothed while you’re bare except for your wet panties clinging to your folds.

Your chest heaves as you watch him. He has a carnivorous gaze. You’re prey with your soft body exposed; he’s a hungry predator waiting to make a lethal move.

But he doesn’t strike.

He moves painfully slowly. Tracing a finger down over your lips, down your chest, and belly, to the hem of your underwear. He slips the tip of his finger underneath and skates it across your skin from left to right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, tense and twitching at the sensations. It’s too delicate. His expression looks like he wants to eat you whole, but his movement is restrained.

“Know you do.” his voice washes over you, and a slight hum echoes in your throat.

“You want me.” he husks.

He pushes you back off his thigh. His hand dives further into your panties, and he drags his fingers through the pool of your arousal and spreads it through your folds. A smile breaks out on his face.

“Yes,” you exhale as your body shudders.

A look flashes across his features, and his eyes darken with lust. You peer down to watch his hand disappear in your underwear.

“Say it.” He demands.

“What?” Your eyes flick up to his.

“Say it.” He repeats firmly.

You writhe a little as he continues to toy with you. He’s wicked. Tracing circles around your clit, but not long enough to build a satisfying rhythm before he dips down and fills you with two fingers. He moves them lazily for his own enjoyment.

You groan in frustration. It’s a tempting sound to his ears, but he doesn’t look amused. He’s waiting to hear it.

“I want you?” you guess what he’s waiting for you to say.

There's no use lying about it if that’s what he wants to hear. You want him. Even if you’ve been ruminating over his shitty behavior all night.

“You askin’ or tellin’?”

“Want you,” you repeat as a statement.

He pulls his hand away completely. Your body jerks, chasing his touch.

“Please,” you try.

“Again.” he’s gruff. Ferocious as he demands you confess your desire.

You sigh. Maybe for giving up so quickly or maybe because you always knew you would.

“I want you.”

He doesn’t relax. Or move.

“Again.” He repeats like he’s a malfunctioning robot.

“I want you, Joel.”

“Again.”

“Please, Joel, I want you.”

The hint of a smirk appears on his face.

He taps your chin, encouraging you to part your lips. He slides his wet fingers in your mouth, along your tongue, and then removes them. He holds your open mouth, fingers around your jaw, and looks as if he’s assessing the quality of your tongue.

“Prove it.” He commands.

His tone does something to your brain.

Tomorrow, you might be confused at how he blew you off, but you ended up on your knees blowing him. But right now, you’re chasing a desperate need.

He steps back to give you space. You drop to your knees as he undoes his belt. Your eager hands work his jeans and boxers down far enough to expose his leaking cock.

If you looked, you might’ve caught his condescending smirk, now fully exposed.

You don’t look. You don’t wait for further instructions. You lap at his tip and tease with your tongue. You start working him into your mouth.

The weight of his cock on your tongue causes you to moan. The vibrations cause him to moan right back.

His arm shoots out to the door behind you for support. His head hangs, watching you move.

“Fuck,” he groans at the sight of your lips wrapped around him. His clipped grunts and the way his core flexes encourage you. Your soft hand works in tandem with your mouth, and you’re drooling openly. You coat him in saliva. Messy. Your lips are swollen.

When he breaches your throat, you slow down to focus on your breathing and swallowing. Little gags contract around the head of his cock as you focus on relaxing.

“Fuck. Yeah, baby, show me you want it,” he rambles above you.

You keep going and take him deep until your jaw aches and your pussy throbs. Hearing him react and spew filth at you stokes the fire in your core.

“Knew your cock hungry mouth was waiting for me,” he slurs.

A flash of embarrassment courses through you at that statement.

You did wait for him. You should’ve said no. But it’s so hard when he shows up ready to go. You may be dumb for tolerating his actions, but you’re not going to turn down a man that looks like him and fucks like he does.

“Eyes up,” he orders.

You whine around him, looking up through your lashes. Obedient. With your eyes locked on each other, something passes briefly between you. Easy to miss, hard to describe. Like you could look at each other like that forever. Then it’s gone.

He slides out of your mouth. Ogling the pornographic way spit trails between his tip and your tongue. The way your lashes are wet from trying to blink away the tears of exertion.

“I did wait, Joel. Waited for you all night,” your voice comes out a little hoarse. You can’t be bothered if it sounds desperate.

“‘Course you did,” he smiles and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Get up.”

You don’t argue. He helps to pull you up, spins you around, and walks you the few steps over to your couch. He bends you over the armrest. You’re burning with need.

He takes his time pulling your panties off. The way he has you presented for him makes you impatient.

“Joel,” you whine his name in protest.

“Quit.” He slaps your ass to make his point.

You huff, but when both of his large palms spread your cheeks wider for his own enjoyment, another needy whine slips out of your throat.

He chuckles darkly at you.

“I’ll give you what you need,” he assures you before he sinks into your desperately empty hole.

You groan in unison as he fills you.

“So deep,” you murmur. He fits like he was made for you. Fills you up, so you can’t think of anything else. Can’t think of what you wanted to say or how you felt watching the time pass while you waited for him to show up earlier.

“Always,” he agrees.

He picks up a bruising pace. On edge for so long, you might go blind with the force of your building climax.

He grasps your hair at the base of your skull and pulls, further arching your back and ripping another moan from deep in your chest. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind feels blank. The sounds of his hips slapping into you and your combined panting, grunting, and babbling turn to white noise. The consistent drive of his cock against the perfect spot inside of you has you hurtling to the edge.

“Yeah, baby, I know what you want,” he croons. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and his other hand wraps around you to squeeze at them tightly. He remains steady and brutal with his movements. He does know what you want. And he keeps giving it to you.

“Please, yes, don’t stop,” you beg.

You wriggle one hand down to touch yourself. The pressure from your fingers around your clit brings you over the edge. You clench around him and gasp as you come.

“Yeah, that’s it. You come on this cock,” he rasps behind you as he works you through it.

You feel the release melt your muscles, causing you to slump forward.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, and you know he’s trying to hold on as he pulls out and pants heavily.

“Turn around for me,” he demands, stepping back. “On your knees.”

You obey and turn to kneel in front of him. He looks wrecked, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth hanging open. His fist wrapped around his cock, still glistening from your release.

It’s a debauched scene. He’s still fully dressed, only as exposed as necessary. He charges towards his climax with frantic force. You pose for him eagerly despite your boneless, damp form.

He looks so primal it makes you lightheaded. You bite your lip to stop yourself from letting a giggle out. Your face shines with a sated glow.

You tilt your head up and squeeze your tits together for him.

“Fuck, fuck,” he rasps out like it’s the only word he knows at this point. Your glossy, swollen lips pout up at him. Like, you need him to finish for you. That sends him. He comes across your chest as you release your hands, dropping your breasts with a little bounce..

He stares at you as his breathing slows. His warm spend is rapidly cooling against your skin. You still have a glowy, dreamy look on your face. Content.

“You look so good like that,” he praises you. A flush creeps up your chest and neck.

You stand up and grab your forgotten water from the coffee table. He tucks himself back into his jeans and fastens his belt.

“You gonna buy me breakfast to make up for bailing?” you float the idea with a joking tone, but there’s hope behind it.

“Sorry, baby, got a job early in the morning.”

“Right,” you snarl at him as he leans in to kiss you.

“How about dinner after?” he suggests and fishes for his keys in his pocket.

“Okay, yeah, what time?” You ask.

“Not sure when I’ll be done.” He’s not looking at you. “I’ll text you.”

He turns, slips out the door, and then he’s gone.

You’re still standing there, naked and dumbfounded, with his drying come across your tits as he drives away.

You groan and curse at yourself. He’s not going to text you tomorrow.

You should stick up for yourself. But he did say he wants only you. And the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right?

457 notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 3 months

Note

leah williamson, "i tried to get my lashes done with tooney and alessia but i didn't like it, so i tried to take them off myself. but now i've ripped half my eyelashes off" in the bathroom 🫶🏻

l.williamson II plucky

"hey babe, everything alright? you normally meet me in the tunnel." your girlfriend smiled curiously as you hovered by the car park.

"yeah everything is fine! i just had to call my mum about something and you know how loud the girls can get after a derby win." you excused, greeting her with a big hug.

"mmm talk about a headache. if i smell like cheap champagne its katies fault." leah grumbled feeling your body vibrate with quiet laughter against her.

"i missed you this morning. did you have a nice time with tooney and less?" your girlfriend asked, not having seen you all day as you were gone before she woke up and leah was gone by the time you returned.

"it was lovely! i've not really spent much time with ella but she and less together are quite the pair." you chuckled honestly as the two of you broke apart, leah shrugging off her gym bag and popping the boot, tossing it in.

"thats an understatement." leah grinned, reaching to steal your sunglasses as you ducked out of her reach. "get your own williamson." you teased, making your way around to the other side of the car.

"i'm trying to you little thief, those are mine!" your girlfriend protested as you only grinned, backing up against the window as she tried again.

"my eyes are sensitive to light and you left these in the kitchen, makes them fair game." your grin grew as the blonde started the car with a huff. "sensative to light? thats a new one." leah scoffed as you playfully smacked her knee before intertwining your fingers with her spare hand.

you allowed her the space to debrief after the game, knowing even if it was a win the girl always had some things to get off her chest about both her own and the teams performance.

so much so that by the time she pulled into the driveway of your shared home she was still going, causing an amused smile to be painted in your features as you patiently awaited the end of her rant.

"sorry." leah blushed a little once she had, something that was rare but adorably endearing as you leaned over to softly kiss her warm cheek. "don't be. my ears are always yours to command baby." you promised.

"my girl." leah smiled against your lips, the two of you exchanging a few sweet kisses before separating so the pair of you could head inside.

"why are those still on you freak?" leah laughed when she returned from putting away her bag to find you sat on the sofa texting, sunglasses still covering your eyes.

"i'm tired! some of us got up early." you quipped flipping her off which she reciprocated, wandering to the fridge as you finished the message to alessia, huffing as you pressed send and left your phone on the couch.

"take them off! it feels weird like you're my security detail or something." leah rolled her eyes playfully as you smiled. "maybe i am, i was just hired to protect you by your mum and our entire relationship is a lie." you teased sticking your tongue out at her.

"baby girl with those chicken arms? not a chance." leah smirked grabbing out a juice and closing the fridge. "yeah like you're one to talk chicken legs!" you retorted back as your girlfriend gasped.

"you know i'm sensitive about my legs!" leah scowled, lips puckering out in a slight pout. "well a bit more running them and not your mouth at training and maybe you'd see some results." you teased, backing away as the blonde placed down her juice and advanced on you.

"leah no!" you squealed as she launched, darting away from her and hearing her feet thump after you, laughing as her body crash tackled into you taking you down onto the bed.

"not bad skinny legs, maybe they're good for wind resistance, makes you speedy." you grinned as she hovered over you. "wind resistance? think's shes a sports scientist now." leah tutted with a shake of her head.

"no!" you pushed your head back as your girlfriend reached for the sunglasses, teasing smile wiped away in a second. "alright what is going on with the glasses?" leah frowned, moving off of you as you sat up.

"nothing! my eyes are just...sore." you excused lamely, cringing at the awful reasoning which leah clearly didn't believe either. "did less fall over and hit you in the face or something? do you have a black eye?" the blonde asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern as you shook your head.

"no no really, it's fine." you promised, but as leah tried once more to take the glasses you stood so fast you almost gave her whiplash. "take them off and show me then!" the defender demanded, standing up and crossing her arms.

but instead you fled, racing off to your ensuite bathroom and quickly locking it before your girlfriend could join you. "baby. this is silly, whatever it is you can trust me." the footballer sighed, knocking softly on the door.

"babe come on, i love you way too much for anything to change that. let me in?" she tried again after a minute or two of silence as you sighed, knowing you couldn't avoid her forever, slinking toward the door and unlocking it with a click.

"promise me you won't laugh." you warned seriously as the blonde joined you, nodding in agreement and sitting down on the edge of the bath as you exhaled deeply.

"well after coffee this morning i tried to get my lashes done with tooney and alessia but i didn't like it, so i tried to take them off myself-" you started to explain, slowly lowering the glasses from your face.

"-but now i've ripped half my eyelashes off." you revealed quietly, sunglasses placed down on the bench as you huffed, leah very clearly biting down on her bottom lip. "leah catherine you promised." you warned seeing how close she was to breaking.

"i'm fine! it's not funny, not at all." your girlfriend cleared her throat, still holding back a smile as you groaned and sat down on the closed toilet lid. "go on then, laugh." you mumbled miserably, burying your face in your hands.

"hey." you felt hands grab your wrists, tugging them away as a finger tapped your chin meaning your head raised with a frown. "you are so beautiful and i adore you." leah promised, hands letting go of yours and gently cupping your face.

"-even without eyelashes." the blonde added on with a smile that wasn't unkind, pecking your lips and mumbling how much she loved you against them. "okay! point made." you finally cracked a laugh gently pushing at her shoulders.

"they'll grow back. at least it wasn't your eyebrows! that might have been a deal breaker for me my girl." leah sighed as you scoffed and kicked at her which she easily dodged.

"come on plucky, lets go order some food." "plucky!?" "yeah! pretty and lucky...plucky." "nice save." you warned her with a glare, taking her outstretched hand none the less and letting her pull you to your feet.

"so babe i have to ask. what was the plan here? wear your sunglasses for the next three months while they grew back?"

#leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso imagine #awfc #arsenal wfc

512 notes · View notes

cheezeybread · 3 months

Note

Ooh! Can I have some clothing thief boyfriend headcanons for the dorm leaders? What you did for Jamil was adorable!

THE CLOTHES THIEF STRIKES AGAIN ! Short hcs because I have a headache right now, ehehe :')

Ft: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Malleus, Idia

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

- This all depends on how big you are compared to Riddle- if you're around the same size as him or smaller, then you have no issue wearing his clothes! If his clothes are too small for you, however, you're going to have to find a way to repurpose his apparel to fit you (either by buying yourself clothes to match him, or stealing some of his larger jackets, any headpieces he wears, etc)

-Either way, Riddle is going to be completely K.O.'d everytime he sees you wearing anything of his.

-At first, he thought it was a simple thief in his dorm, stealing his own clothes as retribution for his strict enforcement of the rules. But it didn't tale too long before Ace texted him a photo of you, saying that the Prefect got a new set of duds that looked just like his!

-You sneaky bastard, you took his clothes! He'll be sure to give you a firm rebuke on the rudeness of stealing other's properties without their permission. But he didn't say you couldn't have his clothes...

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

-He can't be bothered to put up an act of getting his clothes back from you. Others might at least try to put on a show of getting their belongings back from their s/o before begrudgingly allowing them to win, but Leona? Nah, he ain't about to put up a fake fight for his clothes, not when you look so cute in them!

-It was to be expected, if he were honest. He could have guessed you were the type to be a nabber in the relationship

-What he DIDN'T know was how you got his stuff in the first place. You were always with him in his room, and he never once saw you grab anything on your way out??

-Turns out you were hiring Ruggie to knick some shirts and sweatshirts! Ruggie, that traitor...

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

- Why were you wearing one of his suit's jackets??? He was absolutely confused, yes, partially because in the ocean, merfolk didn't wear that much clothing, so swapping clothes with your s/o was unheard of to him, and partially because stealing the jacket to one of his suits was so impractical!

-Like, do you know the upkeep and maintenence needed for that type of material?? He had so many better options! Well, maybe not...most of his attire was fancy clothing...besides his pajamas, but even then, his pajamas were silk material

-So once he figured out what you were doing, Azul just so happened to buy himself some more comfortable loungewear...of course, he had no intention of wearing them himself (he had a business image to maintain!). Leaving them out where you can see them was enough temptation for you to take "his" new clothes...

KALIM AL-ASIM

-Oh, you wanted his clothes? Absolutely!

-He'd probably suggest clothes-swapping, actually. It's such a fun and exciting concept for Kalim! He's always had his own clothes, tailored specifically for him! The notion of wearing someone else's clothing, especially his boyfriend's, was too endearing to pass up!

-So expect lots of clothes shopping so he could figure out your size to buy new clothes for you. Although you have to remind him that it's not exactly clothes-swapping if he's just buying them for you in the first place....

-But he ends up claiming that he's buying them for himself, and just so happened to buy them in your size instead of his...

-Bless his heart, he has good intentions.

VIL SHOENHEIT

-Oh, darling, that outfit is NOT your color.

-He likes the idea of you wearing his clothes, but he absolutely cannot get over how his clothes don't match you! His attire is meant specifically for his skin and complexion! You need something that matches your own!

-In the end, he agrees to compromise with you and buy matching outfits. Although it kills him having to tell you no to wearing his clothes, it's for the best.

-However, he will most definitely allow you to wear his pajamas! Those aren't off the table yet!

IDIA SHROUD

-Out of all of the Housewardens, Idia has THE most comfortable clothes to steal

-He's a gamer who frequently shuts himself off from the outside world, are you seriously going to tell me that he doesn't have sweatpants and hoodies in all sorts of colors and sizes?? And soft lining on the insides of all of them??

-Tbh, he almost dies the first time you come around wearing a hoodie he thought he misplaced weeks ago

-Totally a Grade-A flustered man when he sees you wearing anything of his, even months into your relationship

MALLEUS DRACONIA

-Utterly unfazed by you showing up in one of his shirts.

-"Is this one of those fads, child of man? If so, please have whatever out of my closet that you see fit :)"

-Such a king, honestly.

-However, like Azul, he doesn't have that manual lounge-y clothes, so he'll have to go out on a special shopping trip for some comfortable attire for you- and him, as well! He figures that laying around with you will improve the relationship and strengthen the bond between the two of you.

-And by damn, he's right!

672 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 11 months

Note

angel getting high for the first time 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

cw: drug use! its only weed, nothing heavy but if that makes you uncomfortable please skip :)

wordcount: 11.8k+

—————

(Y/N) kicked her legs in the air as she laid tummy down on her bed. She listened to the ringing from the phone pressed to her ear, waiting for a familiar voice to answer.

In the middle of the third ring, her hopes were answered when a click sounded. Muffled background noise started through the speaker, accompanying a honeyed drawl.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry murmured, his speech seemingly slower than normal.

"Hi," she chirped through her smile. Her feet kicked in the air, free hand coming up to twirl her hair around her index finger. "What are you doing?"

A random burst of laughter bubbled through the other line, distant from the phone though it was still loud. "'M on the phone, be quiet," Harry reprimanded, voice far from the receiver before he returned with a decided softer tone, "Nothing, jus' trying to watch a movie with Mitch. What about you, baby?"

"Just in bed," she mused, "I wanted to call before I went to sleep. Did you want me to let you go since you're with Mitch?"

Since deciding on moving in together once their respective leases expired, (Y/N) had been making a point to spend more time with Sarah while she was still so close. She didn't want to get in the way if Harry was trying to do the same.

"No, no, I wanna talk to you, 's alright," he assured her, "How was your day?"

It was still sweet to (Y/N) the way that she could text him all day long, telling him everything about her day, and he still would ask her a question like this. He told her once that he likes hearing her voice, even if he already knows what she's telling him.

"It was alright," she said, rolling to lay on her back, looking up at her ceiling, "I turned in that paper that I was working on last weekend, so that's all done. The library was super quiet today, though, I almost fell asleep in the philosophy section."

A small laugh sounded from Harry. "Did y'really?"

"Yeah," she sighed, a smile curling her lips, "Elizabeth had to come entertain me. But, what about you? You did that big piece today, right?"

"Yeah, the thigh piece," he said, voice thick, "She was a nice girl, but I had a headache by the time we took the first break. She liked to talk a lot. M'hand's been cramping since lunch."

A pout landed on (Y/N)'s lips. She hated hearing about those kinds of details from Harry's job. She had always figured it was so fun and glamorous, easy and fulfilling. She had never thought about the physical toll of drawing and shading and designing all day long.

"Oh, no," she hummed, instinctively rolling her wrist and curling her fingers as if she could take his pain from miles away. "Did you take anything to help?"

"Kind of. Mitch and I have been relaxing since he got home."

She knew exactly what that meant. Though Harry tended to keep this specific hobby of his separated from her, set on the back burner away from the time he spent with her, she knew better. Besides, she had found that little bag in his dresser months ago, she wasn't completely clueless (of course, he did have to explain what she had found to her, but that was a different story).

That would explain why time seemed to be moving a little bit slower on the other end of the phone, and the boisterous laughter Mitch was sharing in the background.

"Have you been smoking?" she asked, voice quiet. She always felt a bit silly bringing this up to him, unsure of what terms to be using and what meant what exactly.

"A little bit, yeah," he affirmed, "Sorry. I didn't know you'd be calling. I wouldn't have if I knew you wanted to talk tonight."

Shaking her head despite the fact he couldn't see her, (Y/N) rushed her protests. "No, no, don't be sorry. I don't mind, you know that. As long as you're happy and you guys are being careful."

"Always am, baby."

A heat bubbled in her chest at his words. While he never did it around her, there were times that she called him or he FaceTimed her before bed when he was under the influence and his voice drawling just a little deeper, sitting heavier in his chest, hit her just perfectly. She could imagine the way his eyes were a bit hooded, his tongue sticking around his words, the easy smiles that spread across his face for no other reason than he liked the feeling.

She wondered what he looked like in the act. Was it like the movies with lavender smoke and pieces of blown glass with intricate details? Or did he make his own little rolls, hanging from his lips like a cigarette?

Mitch's loud laugh on the phone brought her back to reality, blinking her back to her room and Harry's static on the other end of the phone. Harry gave a muffled response before his own laughter joined his best friend's, the sound drawling and breezy.

When he returned to the phone, she could hear the lingering smile in his tone. "I think Mitch found a movie for us to watch, love."

"What is it?" she asked, feeling the end of the phone call nearing. She would have to settle for spraying the stuffed bunny he gifted her for Valentine's Day with a sample of his cologne for her to cuddle for the night.

"I don't even know," he laughed, "but, I think 's gonna be funny. I think 'm gonna have to make us food, though, so I don't think I can talk for much longer."

"That's okay. Have fun with Mitch and I'll talk to you tomorrow, right?"

"Right," he affirmed, voice soft, "Sleep well, lovebug. I'll call you during my lunch."

"Okay," she sighed, fitting her cheek against her pillow, "I love you."

"I love you more, baby," he cooed, "Goodnight."

An exaggerated kiss noise sounded through her phone, pulling a loud peal of laughter from (Y/N)'s lips. He never really did that when he was around his friends, only putting on the show when he was calling her in private. She thought it was very sweet.

"Goodnight," she laughed, pressing the red button before she became too spoiled with his shenanigans and tried to keep the call going.

Setting her phone on her nightstand, she snuggled into her comforter, a throw blanket covering her body instead of her duvet. Pulling her studded bunny from the fringes of her bed, (Y/N) nestled her cheek against the soft fluff. The sown still smelled of Harry's house from the last time she had spent the night, bringing her back to what he was doing in her absence.

The mystery surrounding his activity of choice for the day is what flicked her curiosity. She'd seen a few movies with marijuana being an uncredited character along with a couple of books with the high feeling being described, but she had never been exposed to anything substantial in real life before she moved away from her parents. Even then, she still hadn't experienced more than the herbal scent that inevitably clung to apartment complexes so close to a university campus and the few bleary eyed classmates she had to work with.

Specifically, she wondered what Harry was like when he was in that state. Those classmates of hers always seemed disconnected, tired, and in their own head. Was Harry the same way? Did he act the way he did when he drank a little bit too much wine? Or was he wild and excitable like those in the movies? Or sleepy like she had read in her books?

What would she be like?

The idea followed her behind her shuttered eyes, her mind going a bit floaty the closer she sunk into sleep.

—————

"Sarah, have you ever... smoked weed before?"

The words felt silly falling from (Y/N)'s mouth. Was that even the correct term? She didn't know, but she kept her attention on the food she was making in front of her, hoping Sarah wouldn't notice.

"Yes," she answered with a suspicious drawl, sweeping through the apartment with a laundry basket on her hip, "Why?"

(Y/N) only shrugged. "I don't know. I've just been thinking about it." She paused, tipping her head. "What does it feel like?"

"Smoking?" Sarah pressed.

"Yeah," (Y/N) chirped, feeling shy that she was even breaching this conversation. "Or, like, being high. Is it like the movies?"

"A little bit," Sarah mused, folding her laundry on the dining room table into neat piles. "It's not as dramatic or crazy, but it can feel that way sometimes. It depends on the person. Everyone's different."

Rolling her lips, (Y/N) nodded her head. She chanced a look over her shoulder at her friend, slowing her stirring. "What are you like?"

Sarah shrugged, a crease between her brows as she thought. "I haven't smoked in a while, but I used to get really tired. It always depended on what kind we had, but I usually got really tired."

Is that what Harry did? Did he get sleepy, like some of her classmates? Did he nod off during the movie he and Mitch watched the other night?

"When was the last time?" (Y/N) asked, hoping Sarah didn't cut her off. She was genuinely curious, she hoped she wasn't prodding and poking past her welcome.

"Maybe a year ago? Could have been longer," Sarah answered. "I was with Mitch so it wasn't too long ago."

Fixing her attention back on the stirring of the soup she was making for their dinner, she tried to act casual as she spoke. "W-Was Harry there, too?"

"Harry?"

(Y/N) could hear the smile in Sarah's voice as she realized where (Y/N)'s curiosity was stemming from. She never tired of teasing just a little over how in love she was with her Harry. (Y/N) only hummed a confirmation, keeping her voice to herself.

"He wasn't there the last time, but he did used to smoke with us sometimes," Sarah explained, sounding a little too amused as she spoke, "Why?"

Shrugging, (Y/N) pretended as if she wasn't intrigued at the info Sarah could share. "No reason really. Was it fun? With Harry and Mitch and all?"

"(Y/N)," Sarah sighed, her voice floating through a smile, "C'mon."

Stopping her distracting task, she turned to face Sarah who was looking at her with that knowing smile she somehow always had when it came to (Y/N)'s secrets. She was an open book as her friend could tell.

"What?" (Y/N) feigned nonchalance as if she hadn't already been caught.

"Did Harry say something? Is that why you're asking about all of this?" Sarah poked, her features set in a gentle tease.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth she canted her head, eyes dropping to where Sarah's hands had stalled her folding. "Not exactly," she started, "He just... I don't know, I called him the other night and he was with Mitch and they had been smoking, he told me. I know he's done it a few times since we started dating, but I've just been thinking about it since then."

Sarah hummed, nodding her head as she listened. "I get it," she said, "I know he doesn't do it around you or anything, right?" (Y/N) only shook her head. Popping her hip with a furrow appearing in her brow as she cast her mind back in search of answers for (Y/N)'s previous questions. "I wouldn't say it's exactly like the movies," Sarah continued, "But it depends on the person and the strain, and things like that. I usually get pretty tired and hungry, Mitch is like the movies sometimes—loud and everything is funny—, and Harry gets really lovey and lazy. None of us really make much sense, though."

(Y/N) tried to picture it. Lavender smoke in the air, Harry lazing about with hearts in his eyes, Mitch laughing about nothing, and Sarah passed out in the corner with a pillow under her cheek. A pinch appeared between her brows as she tried to see where she would sit amongst those characters.

"What do you think I'd be like?"

Blinking, Sarah brought her gaze to her friend. She pursed her lips as she took in (Y/N).

"I don't know. It's not the same as being drunk, so I don't know if you'd be as excitable." Sarah contemplated for a moment longer. "I don't really know, honestly. Are you thinking about finding out?"

She could only shrug. A similar anxiety she felt around alcohol before she broke that barrier still surrounded this, if even a bit heightened given the fact the substance was still very much taboo in her life. There were so many scary, over-exaggerated out there about marijuana, along with the fact that it was still very much taboo in (Y/N)'s life. The use of it seemed to be something that was only done in private and kept as a secret for some people. She was worried that if she found out why, she would regret it.

Though, there were those puffing thoughts in the back of her mind that begged to differ. It couldn't be that bad. Harry, Mitch, and Sarah were three of her favorite people in the whole world. They weren't devilish burnouts with a one-track lifestyle taking them down the drain, like horror stories and PSA's liked to project. They were good people who sometimes indulged in extra relaxation when they had the chance and the mindset to do so. There was nothing wrong with that.

"You could ask H, if you wanted. You know he'd answer anything you wanted to know."

"I know," (Y/N) drawled, unsure despite the fact she knew Sarah was telling the truth. "You don't think he'd be annoyed or anything? I know he keeps it all separate from me for a reason, so I don't want to make him upset."

Sarah leveled her gentle gaze on (Y/N)'s face. "I think he does it because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. It's different than drinking wine with him and things like that, so I bet he just doesn't want to scare you."

(Y/N) shook her head, "He couldn't scare me, though. He's too nice."

"To you," Sarah clarified, her smile soft and teasing, "You know he just worries about you and all of that. You wouldn't upset him if you wanted to know more about anything he does."

He did love teaching and showing her things, she knew that.

"I'll think about it," (Y/N) settled.

"Good," Sarah smiled, grabbing her stacks of folded laundry, "Is dinner ready?"

"Almost," (Y/N) chirped, adding a little bit of extra seasoning to the pot, "I just need to add the noodles. It'll probably be ready by the time you're done putting everything away."

Sarah gave a small cheer, stacks of clothing now rehomed in the laundry basket to be returned to her room. "Thank you," she sung, "We should watch that yacht show when we sit down, don't you think?"

Perking up at the suggestion, (Y/N) quickly nodded her head. "That sounds perfect!" she smiled, mellowing some as she turned her attention to her swirling soup base, "And, thank you for answering everything, by the way. It always helps me."

"I know, that's why I do it," Sarah settled, reaching out to squeeze (Y/N)'s arm gently before she swept away.

Left in the silence of the kitchen with only the simmering soup, (Y/N) felt a little bit lighter. Some of her questions were answered even if she had more she wanted to hear from Harry directly. More than anything, she was a little enamored at the idea that Harry was loving and lazy under the influence. She already had a small idea given that she had seen how easy and bubbly he became when he drank, but she'd never seen him really slow down the way she pictured it in her head.

She wanted to see just how lovey he became, if she was being honest. She already had the privilege of experiencing the affectionate side of him, she wondered just how much higher that volume would be kicked to if he had been smoking. What if he really did have hearts in his eyes?

The thought brought a quiet smile to (Y/N)'s face.

Maybe, she really would have to ask him.

—————

"What are you thinking for dinner, my love?"

(Y/N) puckered her lips to reciprocate the small kiss Harry gave her as he traipsed by the couch. Her eyes followed the broad of his back as her made his way towards the kitchen. With her hands folded on the arm of the sofa, she rested her cheek on her forearm, kicking her legs up behind her as she watched him.

"Whatever you want, I'm okay with," she told him, voice soft and easy.

"Yeah?" he prodded, looking over his shoulder as he washed his hands in the sink, "Even if I didn't feel like making dinner tonight and decided to order sushi instead?"

"Sushi?" (Y/N) bubbled, "From the new place?"

Harry nodded, dimples thumbed into his cheeks. "I figured we could try it out tonight, if that was alright."

"Yes, please," she beamed, her grin only widening when came around to join her in the common area after drying his hands.

His lip ring bobbled as he matched her smile, using a gentle hand to push a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "Why don't you pull up the website for us while I put my sketches away, and find what y'like. Then we'll order, yeah?

Despite the long hours he worked at the shop this past weekend, he looked as gorgeous as ever to (Y/N). He lacked eyeliner after wiping it off as soon as he made it home, but his eyes were still the star of the show against his creamy skin. A fresh bee tattoo stood out on the column of his throat, the mosaic wings following the line of his jaw amongst the rose bush filler he had inked across the skin. With the way he stood over her, she got the perfect view of his spiraling curls and the cut planes of his face complete with his glimmering nose stud and lip ring.

She nodded her head in a lovey daze. "I can do that."

Amusement flickered in his eyes as he looked down at her. He dipped to her level to press a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, moving away to gather the art supplies he was working with, "I'll be right back."

Pulling out her phone, (Y/N) searched up the restaurant up while her mind was still on Harry.

While the questions she had for him were still in the back of her mind, it was too easy to become distracted with him. They weren't apart for a long time by any stretch of the imagination, but even spending a long, four-day weekend away from one another allowed enough fondness to grow between them to keep her mind from wandering very far from what was right in front of her. Besides, Harry barely let her get a word in since she stepped foot in his home, having tugged her to his bedroom with his lips pressed to hers, only breaking for breath.

She'd ask him at some point, she was sure. If she had the mind to after dinner.

Browsing through the menu for a few minutes, (Y/N) found the rolls she was interested in, picking things she had a feeling Harry would like and finding other little gems on the website that she would mention in hopes of getting his opinion on. She searched through the site, trying to find an option to order online with no luck, the browser rerouting her to the main page every time she tried to plug into the ordering site.

"H?" she called, realizing he still hadn't come back from resetting his utensils.

"Yes?" he answered back, still in the bedroom, "What do y'need, love?"

Instead of responding, she stood from the couch and moved towards his room, brows knitted and phone screen bright in her hand. "The website isn't working—it won't let me order," she explained, stepping over the threshold to his room.

Lifting her head, she saw him standing at his dresser, back to the door with his head angled down and hands fiddling across the top of his dresser. He looked over his shoulder at her, his hands slowing.

"Give me a second, and I'll take a look," he told her, "I'm still cleaning up—forgot I left some things out."

"Oh?" she sounded, stepping towards him with her phone being slid back into her pocket, "Do you want any help?"

Growing close enough, she peered around him to see what he was working on. Instead of spotting the graphite and colored pencils she figured she'd find, she instead saw tiny green buds splaying across the wooden surface with a pair of loose pieces of thin paper and a tall black canister. Harry worked quickly to clean up the mess, majority of the green flakes having been scooped up and replaced in the container though he was struggling to wrangle the remains back into their container.

"'S alright," he murmured, shifting just enough to cut her view of the space, "'M almost done."

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she rocked on her heels as she stayed put. Before she could think better of her words, they were already spilling from her mouth:

"Is that weed?"

She cringed at the sound of her voice wrapping around something so outside of her vocabulary. It sounded better in her head.

Harry's hands slowed, stilling before he looked over his shoulder at her. A sliver of his workspace was once again revealed at the small shifting.

"What was that?" he pressed, his question seemingly heavy between the two of them.

She said the wrong thing, didn't she? (Y/N) dropped her gaze from his, settling on the new bumblebee on his neck instead.

"I ask if that was your... you know," she trailed off, hating the sound of her floundering almost more than just saying the word outright, "That's weed, right?"

Feeling Harry's gaze trail over her, (Y/N) tried not to squirm.

"It is, yeah," he muttered, "I didn't realize I left it out. 'M sorry."

Darting her eyes up to match his once more, she tipped her head to the side. "Why are you sorry?"

Turning away from the dresser entirely, Harry faced her directly. He gave her a small shrug. "I don't like leaving it out when you're here. I meant to clean it up before y'came over, but I forgot."

"You know I don't mind," she reminded him, "You don't have to be sorry."

A gentle smile curled his lips, only a single dimple in his cheeks as he looked at her.

"Thank you, love," he started, "Let me clean up, I'll wash m'hands again, and then I'll—"

"What does it feel like?"

(Y/N) could feel her skin simmering in embarrassment as her tumbling question fell from her mouth before she had a chance to police the words. Everything she had been too distracted to ask him came flooding back then, unable to be stopped now that she saw the opportunity.

"Sorry," she peeped, realizing how abruptly she had cut him off.

He waved her off, "'S alright." He watched her with attentive eyes, catching each of her expressions and minute movements. "What does what feel like?"

There was no going back now, she figured.

"Being high," she peeped, "What does it feel like?"

While he didn't seem to understand where her line of questioning was coming from, or understood her sudden curiosity in his private hobby, he didn't dissect any further.

Harry rolled his neck, pursing his lips. "It's different for everyone," he started, much the same as Sarah had, "It depends on the kind you smoke, too."

"But what does it feel like for you?" she rattled off, her words coming quick. Her hands were a busy bundle at her waistline, looking at him with curious eyes.

A small tug on the corner of his lip had a lopsided smile sparking on his mouth. "It depends, like I said, on what kind, but I usually like it best when m'hands hurt. It helps numb it long enough for the cramping to go away," he mused, "But, other than that, it makes me tired—but not enough to sleep. I jus' want to do nothing but sit and eat. I also get very touchy; lots of cuddling with pillows and whining about not being with you."

He had to have known that his last comment would get her lips splitting into a sheepish smile, (Y/N) dropping her head to fix her gaze at their feet. It was still a little wild to her that Harry thought about her as often as she did him, even when she wasn't right in front of him.

"You feel like that every time?"

"Mostly, yeah," he shared, "Sometimes I feel like sketching, or I fall asleep right away. Back when Mitch and I would go out a lot, I used to be really hyper—doing stupid shit because I wasn't afraid of anything. I've definitely calmed down since then."

"Oh," she sounded. (Y/N) couldn't imagine Harry being reckless, getting himself into trouble that way—but, this was the same man that apparently received his first tattoo at a mechanic's garage by a very amateur artist. He was capable of anything, she guessed.

"Why do you want to know, love?" he asked, tipping his head with a spiral of his curl falling over his shoulder.

She attempted to act as nonchalant as possible, giving a shrug of her shoulders despite her lips being rolled between her teeth. "I don't know," she answered, "I've just been thinking about it, I guess."

"Yeah? Is that all y'wanted to know?"

While there had to have been hundreds of questions that could come to mind, everything from what he and Sarah meant when they specified reactions were based on the strain or kind of weed that was being consumed, to what skunks vs. dank meant when it came to the herb, she didn't know where to start. Though there was one thing she was wanting to know, beyond just the details of what it would be like to see a clingy, lovey Harry.

"What do you think I'd be like?" she asked, her words coming out in a rush before she could rethink them.

Harry's gaze was warm on her face as he examined her. Amusement sparked in his eyes.

"I don't know, but I have a feeling you'd be a little bit like Mitch," he explained, "I think you'd be excited about everything. But, I'd hope you'd be a little like me just because I like the idea of you being clingy and warm, too."

She liked that idea, too. It was easier this time to add herself to the picture of Harry, Mitch, and Sarah, superimposing herself at Harry's side with her own hearts in her eyes and her hands tangled with his. (They could sneak kisses, too, if she caught the bug of no fear like he used to have).

"Could—Can I—... I think I want to try, if that's alright," she stuttered, unable to find the right words before just letting something roll off her tongue.

Harry's silence was heavy between them, the lilypad of his irises setting on her. "You want to try smoking?"

Starting with a soft nod, she tried to find that reckless bubbling that had carried her this far. "I think so, yeah." A beat passed. "If that's alright."

When he didn't immediately say anything, she chanced a peek up at him to find his eyes fixed on her, gentle and melting as he took her in. He opened his arms for her when he caught her eye, his features softened and warm. "C'mere."

(Y/N) all but fell into his arms, his chest warm and solid under her cheek. She looped her arms around his middle, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxed into him. He worked like a shot of lavender incense and chamomile tea for her, the perfect thing to settle her in moments like these.

His hand spanned over the planes of her back, fingertips massaging the knots of muscle and ladder of her spine. He rubbed over her form in a soothing circuit between her shoulder blades, his opposing hand an anchoring weight on her waist.

"Y'really want to try it out, love?" he prodded her gently, his voice rumbling under her cheek.

"I think so," she mumbled, finding it easier to speak now that she was there to hold her instead of watch her.

"When did y'decide that?"

"The other day, I think," she explained, "After we talked on the phone."

He hummed, the sound reverberating in her ear. "What made y'think y'wanted to try something like this?"

Harry always liked to talk her through things like this, she found. It made it easier for him to understand her thought process, he'd said, helping him be honest with her if he worried she was making a choice that might hurt her later. He never lacked patience when it came to guiding her through new experiences.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, "I just want to know what it's really like. I've only seen a couple of movies and read a few books, but I want to know what it would feel like for me. I don't think it could be so bad if you like it."

Nosing at her hair, she could feel the smile that had spread across his lips. "'M not always the smartest though, baby. You know that."

She let out a small laugh at his griping. "I know, but I trust you. If you really don't think it would be good for me, I know you would tell me."

A pause settled between them.

"You don't feel like you have to, right? Jus' because 's something I do sometimes, I don't expect you to feel comfortable with it or want to do it with me."

"I know," she responded, voice resolute, "I just want to try it at least once. If I don't like it or anything like that, I won't do it again."

After a lingering moment, Harry drew her away from him, peering down at her with a soft gaze. "If you're sure, then we can try it whenever y'want. Jus' let me help you, and I'll be there."

An impulsive flicker lit through her system. She was on a roll, why stop now?

"Can we try it tonight?"

Harry looked at her with widened eyes. "Tonight?"

(Y/N) nodded her head. "I don't have class until the afternoon tomorrow," she started, a plan coming together, "Do you have to go in early tomorrow?"

His smile was lopsided as he shook his head, likely following where she was going with this. "No, I don't."

"We could stay up, then," she rattled off, "I could try tonight, and if anything goes wrong we can sleep in a little in the morning."

Amusement filtered through his gaze. "I didn't know we were having a sleepover," he teased her, dipping his head until his nose nudged against hers, "Y'want to stay the night with me, baby?"

Her skin hummed as (Y/N) fought the urge to hide herself in his neck. (She acted as if he hadn't been fingers deep in her just a few hours prior, their mouths welded together and her legs around his waist)."

"Harry," she whined, curling her fists in his t-shirt to keep from pulling away, "I'm trying to be serious."

"I know," he crooned, tipping his chin to peck a soft kiss to her pouted lips, "And, 'm listening. We can try it out tonight, if y'really want to. But, I think we should eat first, yeah?"

"Yeah," she repeated, giving a slight nod of her head, "I still need help with the website, though."

"Right," he murmured, pulling away, "Since I don't really need to clean up anymore, let me take a look."

With that, (Y/N) handed him her phone, telling him about the confusion she felt with the links and the rerouting and all, but her mind was somewhere else. Flicking her gaze around his shoulder, she saw the mess he was leaving out for them to take care of later. The small green buds sparked that familiar kind of nervous excitement that she'd grown accustomed to when it came to new things Harry was planning on teaching her.

She just hoped she didn't make a fool of herself.

—————

"What did you think, love? Good, right?"

Taking their dirty utensils—including the pink chopsticks he gifted her for Valentines—Harry spoke over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen.

(Y/N) sat pliantly on the couch, tummy full of the variety of sushi rolls they sampled for the night, along with a new favorite miso soup that she was surely going to be craving as the week went on. "So good. I think my favorite is still the spicy salmon one with that seaweed salad on top."

Harry laughed from where he stood, surely remembering the way she had practically taken that roll for herself, hoarding the pieces to allow only one bite for him. "I really liked that one, too. We'll have to go back again soon, yeah?"

"Yes, please," she chirped, looking over the back of the couch as he made his return.

While the food was a delicious distraction for the night, (Y/N) had still marinated in the idea of what would be coming once she finished and they were settling for the night. The mess he'd left on his dresser was waiting for them, loose papers and all.

"Ready?" he asked, coming to stand at the end of the sofa.

Was she? She wasn't sure, honestly. But that uncertainty was outweighed by the curiosity and bubbly jitters she had since Harry had agreed to help her.

Before she had a chance to answer and take his hand, Harry spoke up again, "Jus' to get ready for bed first, baby."

"Oh," she sounded, nothing more intelligent coming to mind at the moment, "Um, yeah. Then we'll...?"

He cracked a smile at her hesitancy to name the activity that she had brought up. "Yes, we'll do that afterwards. You'll probably feel more comfortable in some pajamas and your face clean."

Though she felt a bit silly at the way she had built up a moment that hadn't quite arrived yet, she understood his logic. Besides, if she turned out to be like Sarah, she wouldn't beat herself up in the morning if she did all of her skincare now, and not when she was already inches from sleep.

Taking Harry's hand, she followed after him as he led her to his bedroom, a small duffle bag of hers that stayed here was already sitting by the bathroom door. A change of clothes, and minis of her most essential skincare needs were packed away inside, making it easy for her to spend the night impulsively when she wanted to.

(Just then, the reminder that she wouldn't be confined to a single bag when they moved in together made her more giddy than before. Soon, she'd be sharing a whole closet with him, a bathroom, and a home. She couldn't wait).

(Y/N) went through the motions of getting unready with Harry standing behind her in the mirror. More often than not, as she brushed her teeth or patted a balm into her skin, her eyes wandered to his reflection. Once or twice, when she was caught, he gave her a sly smile with glimmering eyes. But, when he didn't catch her, his attention on his own task, she was left to allow her mind to gill with imagination.

She was reminded as she ran her eyes along the cut of his jaw, the plants of his features, and the high points in-between, that he would be stepping behind the lavender veil with her. His previous conversation with her had only revolved around her and what she wanted out of this experience, straying her mind away from the fact that he was going to be a part of the package.

What would he look like with smoke pluming from his mouth? Would his lilypad eyes go glazed and red? She wondered if his hands would feel any different gliding over her skin, if his lips would still feel as pillowy against hers.

The thought had her cheeks warming, a sheepish smile forming around the toothbrush between her lips.

Harry finished before her, stepping out of the bathroom to give her privacy to change into her pajamas. "I'll wait for you out here," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head.

Closing the door behind himself, she was left alone with the chilled tile under her socked feet. Glancing at the mirror, (Y/N) found herself fresh-faced with wide eyes and a slight swell to her lips from the amount of times she rolled them between her teeth. Blinking, she wondered if she would look any different to Harry after she pulled the smoke into her lungs.

It was with rushed hands that she dressed into her sleep clothes (really nothing more than a pair of tiny shorts she would inevitably kick off in the night, and a shirt she had stolen so long ago from Harry that it was hers now), almost slipping her top on backwards before she righted herself in the mirror. Stepping out of the washroom with her laundry being dropped atop her duffle for later, (Y/N) saw Harry once again at his dresser.

This time, he looked to her with an easy smile, his hands working over the surface before him.

"Better?" he smiled, lip ring bobbing.

"Mhm," she hummed, moving towards him in slow strides, "What are you doing?"

Turning back to face his hands, he told her, "Jus' getting our things ready. Do you want to watch?"

A pinch creased her brows as she went towards him. Peering around his shoulder, she saw him working with one of the loose papers from before and a small pile of crushed up greenery.

"What do you have to do?" (Y/N) only had a vague idea of what all went into preparing for a session like this.

Smiling down at her, his ministrations slowed now that her attention was placed on his hands. He sidestepped just enough to allow her an unobstructed view of his work. "I figured we'd stick with a joint this first time, so I've got to roll one up for us to use."

Looking at it now, while she didn't have much knowledge of any of this, she could see familiar pieces forming. The paper would be rolled and twisted with the bud inside, Harry flickering a lighter at the end like a cigarette when it was ready.

"How do you do that?" she muttered, stepping that much closer, feeling as if she were a child pressing their nose against the glass separating them from gallons of ice cream.

A huffed laugh fell from his lips then. Lifting his arm up, he beckoned her to stand between his chest and the dresser. "C'mere."

Slipping into the small space he freed for her, the heat of his chest could be felt against her back. Though she caught whiffs of it before, now the herby, earthy smell of the bud was right at her nose, wafting through the air and clinging to her skin. Right in front of her, Harry worked around her, his fingers deftly working through his supplies.

"First," he started, "You've got to keep the paper flat out and put one of the filters at the end." She watched as he pulled a tiny white piece from the canister, setting it at the middle of one of the short ends of the paper. He kept it stable when he reached for the ground up weed that he had piled in the lid to the container, a small mound he pinched at before sprinkling the chunks in a line across the paper. "We've got to fill it up enough so there's not any air bubbles between," he explained as he worked, his arms hovering above her shoulders as he created their joint with the ease of experience. "This part’s always a little hard for me," he told her, to her surprise.

"What do you mean?" He could have fooled her.

"'S hard to pack it in like this," he elaborated, his voice dull as he concentrated, "M'fingers are too big, so I've got to be extra careful that I don't mess it up."

Honing her gaze in on his digits, she had to keep herself from tipping her head to the side and falling victim to the sight. She could see it then, she figured, watching as he tried to pat everything as tightly and precisely as possible. His fingers definitely were too big.

"Oh," she sounded.

A breathy laugh came from behind her, the exhale twisting through the hair on the top of her head. "Would y'do something for me, love?" he asked, finally packing enough in as tightly as he could before he started folding the ends of the thin paper.

She gave a nod, now too transfixed on his hands to speak with an even tone.

"Would you give this a lick for me?" he asked, "We've gotta seal it up before I can twist it all up."

"Like, the paper?" she clarified, eyeing the open flap he was presenting to her with the joint grasped carefully between his fingers.

Harry hummed a confirmation. "There's glue on this edge like an envelope. Gotta make it sticky, then I can close it up for us."

"Um, okay," she muttered, placing a steadying hand on his wrist as he brought the almost-joint to her lips.

Parting her mouth, she swiped the tip of her tongue along the very edge of the paper. It didn't taste quite as artificially sweet as a regular envelope, but then again, everything was coated in that dusky scent that the herb folded inside held.

"Thank you, baby," he told her, pulling the joint from her lips as he did the closing motion of sealing the edge to the roll. She watched as he did the final step, twisting down the free edge into a tight swirl before he presented it with the filtered end between his fingertips. "All done."

In front of (Y/N) was the stereotypical joint that she had seen in the few films that showed as much. The paper was translucent in the way that she could clearly see it was filled from the inside with dark, green flakes. The filtered edge was tapered down into a small funnel, leaving the head of the roll trumpeting out, thick with the ground up weed.

"That was fast," (Y/N) muttered, wanting to reach out and touch, but too scared.

"I've gotten pretty good, I can't lie," he joked with her, pressing his lips to the back of her head. A paused settled again before he spoke to her, his head still dipped down as he murmured, "Y'still feeling alright, darling? Still want to, or do y'want to go to bed and watch a movie instead?"

Examining the joint in front of her, the thick scent of the weed surrounding her with the heat of Harry's chest at her back, she nodded her head. "I still want to."

Dropping an arm to wrap around her waist from behind, Harry hugged her to him for a moment. "Grab a jacket then, and we'll go out back for a second, yeah?"

"Outside?" she asked, turning in his hold.

"Don't want it stinking up the house, right?" He looked at her with a raised brow, already stepping towards the closet in search of his own coat. "We'll be fast, baby, 's alright."

(Y/N) supposed he was onto something, realizing that she had never been struck by the heavy scent like she would figure if he had smoked in his bedroom. As long as no one complained, it wasn't a bad idea to head outback for a second. It would be nice to take in deep breaths in between the smoke too, she figured.

With a set of slippers on her feet, and a thick hoodie on her body, she followed Harry out the back door, ending on the back patio. He sat on the stoop at her feet, patting the space next to him.

"Warm enough?" he asked, moonlight waning above their heads.

Snuggling closer to his side, she nodded her head. "I'm alright, thank you. Are you warm?"

Despite the unzipped jacket on his form and the thin t-shirt underneath, Harry gave her a small smile. "'M good, baby."

Flicking out a lighter and the joint from his pocket, he sparked the flame with a flick of his fingers.

He ran the spark over the trumpeted tip of the joint, his face warming in the firelight glow. "We'll take it easy tonight, yeah?" he murmured, concentration on his hands, "I don't think it'll take much to get y'there, so we probably won't finish this but we'll save the rest for another time if you want."

She watched as he rotated the edge of the joint over the flame, evenly burning the tip. "Are you not going to have any?"

"I will," he assured her, "But, I want to make sure I can take care of you. I won't be having too much."

Having a deja vu moment, (Y/N) was reminded of how it felt to be sitting in his lap as he fed her wine, keeping his own head clear while he let her run wild.

With the end of the joint glowing a warm orange, Harry put the lighter away. He ashed the very tip away, revealing cool lavender smoke twisting through the air with a heady scent clinging to the particles.

"Want the first go?" he asked, tipping the roll towards her in an offer.

"No, no," she answered immediately, "You first."

His smile was lopsided as he agreed, pulling the joint to his mouth. She watched as he tucked the filtered end between his lips, taking in a shallow inhale with the fiery end glowing to life. His chest expanded as he inhaled. He only pulled the roll away from his lips when his chest was puffed with smoke, a lingering second passing before he exhaled, plumes of dancing smoke drifting through the air. The heavy, thick aroma of the weed surrounded them.

(Y/N) couldn't pull her eyes from him as the smoke seeped from between his lips, a thin, violet filter hazing his features. The moon above seemed to catch each particle, drowning the scene in cool toned shades, muted and closed.

She waited for something to change in the way he looked, the way he acted. When the only thing he did was turn to her with a blink, once again offering the joint to her for a try, she wasn't sure what she had expected.

"Do y'think y'can do that?"

Her brows creased. "Do what?"

Amusement molded his features as he tipped his chin towards his offering. "Taking a hit," he stated, "Inhaling, and everything."

"I-I think so," she answered, carefully pulling the roll from his fingers. She hesitated before taking it to her lips, nervous to replicate his actions while he watched. "Do you feel any different?"

His smile was warm as he shook his head. "No—probably won't be too different tonight. I've built my tolerance pretty high, so I'll be fine."

"Oh," she sounded, feeling the slightest bit disappointed knowing that she wouldn't get the full experience of seeing him for what he was under the influence. Maybe sometime she could convince him to let it go. Focusing back on the joint, she stared intensely at the thin ribbon of smoke falling from the tip. "How do I inhale?"

"Jus' breathe in, baby," Harry laughed, throwing an arm across her shoulders. He tucked her against his side, warming her through her layers. "Only take a little bit at a time, though. And, if y'need to cough, jus' let it happen. You'll be alright."

Though it was only a few tiny rules, it felt like so much to remember, to keep track of while she was trying something so foreign.

"Wh-What if I take too much?" she muttered, worrying now the longer that she let it keep burning. She hoped she wasn't wasting everything he'd done for her.

Harry paused, rolling her question around his head before answering. "You'll be alright," he assured her, "Jus' don't want you to take too much, or anything, that's all."

The idea of taking too much scared her more than the other rules. She didn't know what too much was; how would she know if there was too much in her lungs, how would she know if she needed to pull back?

"Can you help me?" she murmured, worry lacing through her tone.

"I can hold it for you if you want?" he offered, though his option didn't seem so concrete as she had hoped.

"You can't do more?"

A small silence sat between them when he didn't answer right away. She looked to him, finding him looking at the joint between her fingers with a contemplative crease between his brows.

"I might have an idea that we can try," he started, flicking his gaze to match hers. "Y'trust me, right?"

Her nod was immediate.

A small smile folded his lips as he took the joint from her hand. He brought the roll to his lips, taking in another deep inhale with his eyes fluttering as his chest expanded. The cherry brightened as he pulled in the smoke. As soon as he pulled it away from his mouth, he spoke to her in a muddled voice, a small streak of smoke escaping through his nose.

"C'mere."

(Y/N)'s eyes rounded out in confusion. She was already right here, right?

The arm Harry had thrown across her shoulders slithered around her form until his palm came to a cradle on her cheek. He pressed forward then, his lips parting just enough for (Y/N) to get the hint.

He wanted to kiss her.

Fluttering her eyelids to a close, she leaned forward in an attempt to meet him halfway. Harry, with his hand on her cheek, stopped her short, a small distance left between them.

With her eyes opening to slits, she found him looking to her with his own gaze trained on her lips. His tender hand on her cheek shifted until his thumb was resting in the full of her bottom lip. Tugging just slightly, he parted her pout into a small gape. Harry ripped his head, leaning just that much closer with his pursed lips.

(Y/N) held her breath, her own mouth parted open as she felt soft plumes of smoke fan over her lips. His lips just barely grazed her own, pressing against the soft pillows as the smoke ghosted over her tongue, heady and thick.

Pulling away just enough with smoke still twirling around his features, he told her, "Breathe in, baby."

His voice was still heavy in his throat, emulating the way he spoke in the morning. The detail gave (Y/N) something to focus on as she instinctually closed her mouth as if biting down, the smoke now contained to a thin veil between them. He kept his hand steady on her cheek as she inhaled the way she saw him do, her chest bloating as she filled her lungs with the gifted smoke.

While she didn't feel the burning in her chest that she thought would accompany the smoke, she instead felt a thick heat in the back of her throat. She tried to mimic what she had seen Harry do, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a moment before exhaling, but she couldn't keep up when she felt her eyes begin to water.

Unable to handle it much longer, (Y/N) released her breath in clumsy pants, embarrassed to be reacting so intensely right in Harry's face. Though, all he did was stay steady in his spot by her, thumbing at her chin and coaxing her through it.

Tipping her head down, she finally coughed into her sleeve, eyes watering as she went with his hand falling to the slope of her neck.

"'S alright, baby, jus' let it out," he murmured, his voice a gentle soothe, "You'll feel better in a second, love."

By the time she regained her breath, there was a slight glaze over the back of her throat—not quite a tingle, but not entirely normal. Harry tipped his head down by then, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth with his palm spanning the shelf of her collarbones.

"Y'alright?" he murmured, ever patient when he pulled away to match her eyes.

Nodding her head, (Y/N) swallowed around her odd throat. "Was that alright?" she croaked, wet bottom lashes grazing the height of her cheekbone.

A fond smile molded Harry's features into soft curves. "Y'did jus' fine, lovebug. So proud of you for not getting scared," he praised her, thumb running over her warm skin, "Feels a little weird doesn't it?"

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she nodded her head, watching as he ashed the joint they had probably let burn for just a touch too long. "Really weird," she told him earnestly, "My throat feels funny, but that's all so far."

"Yeah? Want to keep going?" His eyes skated over her features, taking in every reaction, every minute stretch of her muscles.

While she was sure there was something that would hit soon, she still felt comfortable enough to take a little more from him. (Y/N) answered with a small nod.

"Same way we did before?"

Remembering the feel of his lips glancing across hers, the faint brush of the tip of his nose over hers, she could feel her skin simmering. "Yeah," she answered, hoping he thought the breathy quality of her voice was a lingering side effect of her coughing.

He didn't look entirely fooled when that sly smile touched his lips. "Alright," he said, bringing the joint back up to his lips, "We'll do a couple more, then I think you're done, baby. That alright?"

"That's alright," she murmured, "Thank you."

This time, watching him taking in the long drag, (Y/N) knew what to expect when he turned to her. She allowed him to hover close enough that he was almost kissing her as he blew out another plume of smoke for her to inhale. When she took her time filling her lungs with the smoke, Harry tipped his head and smeared his lips over her cheek, kissing down her neck.

She had more confidence this go around, coaxing herself through as Harry held her. That thick feeling in the back of her throat intensified as she closed her eyes, her chest expanding under her borrowed hoodie.

"Doing good, baby," he murmured into her ear, pulling away to match her gaze, "Go ahead and breathe out, love. I think you're good."

Following his direction, the lavender smoke twirled between them. Sucking in clean air, she filtered out her lungs. This time around, opening up her eyes to look up at the moonlight and the stars blinking over the inky canvas, things felt different. There was a bit of lethargy to her movements, even in the darting of her gaze. Her limbs felt as if there was extra weight attached, something heavy that slowed her before she even had a chance to move.

It was an odd feeling, something that she'd never experienced before or had anything of comparison to, but it wasn't unpleasant. She'd even say she liked it so far.

Harry seemed to pick up on the fact that she was edging into new territory as he watched over her, eyes sparking from amusement. "One more?"

"Yeah," she settled, her lips feeling looser the more she sunk into the moment, "One more."

"Wanna try by yourself?" he asked, taking his own small puff from the joint before he was angling it towards her.

"Not by myself, no," she argued, still scared to be in charge of her own dosing.

"I can hold it for you if y'want—take it back when you've had enough," Harry offered, letting a cloud leave his lips as he spoke.

"Okay," she nodded, taking on his offer.

"Open," he instructed, setting the filter of the joint between her lips, "Then jus' suck in, okay? You'll be able to feel it in the back of your throat, so stop if you've had enough and I haven't taken it back yet."

(Y/N) wrapped her lips around the filter, taking in Harry's directions with absent ears. She couldn't imagine he wouldn't be able to catch herself and her intake before he did.

Emulating what she'd seen from him before, she sucked in, her cheeks hollowing just enough to show off the shape of her cheekbones. The back of her throat warmed, embers igniting in a low burn. This was more than what Harry had given her before, but she didn't mind. This would be just enough,she figured.

At the perfect moment, Harry pulled away prompting her to breathe out the final cloud of smoke. He asked the joint once more, a small pile of grey dust having collected at their feet.

A few huffed coughs fell from (Y/N)'s lips, unused to the feeling of gathering the smoke directly from the source. Harry wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side as she eased through the final intake.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, voice low under the moonlight.

Looking around, (Y/N) tried to find the answer to the question.

It was an odd feeling, she decided. She felt both light and heavy at the same time, her head in the clouds with her body entirely anchored to the ground. Prickles poked at her skin, her limbs their own entity as she brought her hands into a bundle in her lap.

There was no other way to describe it other than the fact that she felt high.

"Good," she answered simply, "Different."

"You'll get used to it, my love," he murmured into her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the space just before.

"Do you feel different?" she asked, her voice heavy in her dry throat.

"A little," Harry explained, stubbing out the cherry of the joint, "But, I think 's time we get inside before either of us freezes, don't you think?"

"Yeah, yes."

It was when Harry let out a small huffed laugh that (Y/N) couldn't contain her own laughter. A loud peal fell from her lips. She wasn't even sure why she was laughing. That only made her laugh harder.

—————

"That is so funny," (Y/N) giggled to herself, clenching her hands in the fabric of her top lest she forget they were there. "Harry, did you see that?! It was funny!"

He was back in the kitchen, working over the stove with a pot of noodles boiling away and a cheesey sauce working on the other burner, leaving (Y/N) to watch this movie all on her own.

"Which part, baby?" he asked, his rumbling voice sounding farther away than she remembered.

(Y/N) blinked, watching the brightly colored animated characters go across the television screen. "The one that was just on! With the cat on the piano!"

How could he not have been paying attention? (Y/N) had never seen something so entertaining before, if she was being honest. This had to be her new favorite movie—she just needed to remember what it was called.

"Oh," he sounded, "I did see that, sorry, lovebug. It was very funny."

"Good," she responded absently, craning her neck to look over the back of the couch towards where he stood in the kitchen, "I'm so hungry, H."

"I know," he laughed, looking at her with his skin seemingly glowing and the smile of a prince. "'M almost done, okay?"

"How close is ‘almost’?"

His smile only widened at her line of questioning. (Y/N) mimicked that look without a thought.

"About five minutes. Can you wait that long?"

"I'll try." She couldn't help the pout that took her features. She had told him she was hungry what felt like hours ago, and she still was waiting for food. He wouldn't even let her help either, but she could argue that she would have eaten already if he just let her follow him to the kitchen.

Raising his brows, Harry fixed his attention back on the television screen. "Oh, look. The little cat is back, baby."

(Y/N)'s attention took a one-eighty as she did the same to face the TV once more. Harry was right, the kitten was back on screen. She didn't want to miss this.

The high had hit her at full force only minutes after Harry had taken her inside, setting off a firing squad of so many different feelings (Y/N) had never experienced before. She had so much energy, but at the same time she wanted to sleep. She wanted to kiss and hold her boyfriend, but also had to make a point to remember where her limbs were. She wanted to eat and drink as much water as she could, but couldn't find the attention to do either of those things. In the back of her mind, she even debated on writing some for the course paper she needed to work on before the midterm exam next month—her mind swirling with ideas, but they were all out of order.

How she decided on watching a movie instead of any of her other raucous ideas, she wasn't sure, but she was happy with the choice. This way, she was able to wrap up in the soft pink throw blanket that she left in his bedroom, sink into the new feeling, and make out with Harry when he was done cooking.

(It had really been Harry's prompting and prodding that led her to the conclusion that yes, she wanted to watch a movie and cuddle up with him while she ate, but he was happy with letting her assume it had been her own choice).

Time moved in mysterious ways since the high had hit, making it hard to decipher if it had been five hours or mere five minutes before Harry came to her with bowls of pasta and a buttery warm sauce poured over top.

"That looks so good, H," she bubbled, overjoyed at the sight of food, "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, baby," he smiled, "Do you need more water?"

"No, just—Hold on." (Y/N) stumbled over her words, organizing her thoughts as steadily as she could and ultimately failing in favor of reaching towards Harry.

The second he settled into the cushion at her side, she had his jaw cradled in her palms, lips puckered and pressed against the corner of his mouth. A laugh bubbled through his lips, his smile felt under her kiss.

"I missed," she laughed along with him, pulling away to watch his eyes light up and creases form around his smile, "Sorry."

"'S alright," he beamed, cheeks still cradled in her palms, "Jus' slow down and try again."

Though she didn't exactly have the wherewithal to follow his directions, she definitely tried her best. This time, she felt as if she went slower as she leaned in, pressing her lips to Harry's. He reciprocated her affection in soft kisses, (Y/N) melting the longer she reveled in his touch.

Her skin practically sang everywhere he touched her, taking her back to her wonderings of if there would be something extra to their affection while under the influence. That prickling that she had felt in her limbs just when the smoke started taking effect, now only occurred when he ran his fingertips over her skin or held her hand in his. The buzzing made her smile into the kiss, the pinpoint tickling under her skin.

"What's got you so smiley, hm?" Harry asked against her mouth, pulling away despite the tender hold she had on his cheeks.

She beamed up at him with an easy grin, a rose colored glaze over her vision of him. "I just like touching you," she told him, "It tickles."

He raised his brows in reaction, biting back a smile. "It tickles?"

Watching the clear amusement on his face, (Y/N) couldn't help her own smile from turning into bubbling laughter. "Uh-huh," she barely answered, everything else dissolving around her laughter.

"Now, why are you laughing?"

Harry's investigation only proved to make the entire moment funnier to (Y/N) as she doubled over. Snuggling into his chest, she clung to him with her laughter muffled against his shoulder. "I don't know," she giggled, barely sure that the words even left her brain.

"Oh, lovebug," he crooned, wrapping his arms around her, "What am I going to do with you?"

A contented smile landed on (Y/N)'s features as she settled down. She burrowed against him, smushing her cheek on his shoulder and bundling her arms between their bodies. "Love me."

The tip of Harry's nose skimmed the top of her head. "I already do that," he told her, words fanning across the strands of hair crowning her.

"I love you too," (Y/N) answered simply.

The cryptic sense of time she held struck once again when Harry drew away from her. Her body had relaxed into his as if she had napped on him for hours, but she could have been nestled in his arms for a max of three minutes for all she knew.

"Are y'still hungry? Or do y'want me to save your noodles for later?"

With that, (Y/N) swore her mind had been blown. "You brought me food, I totally forgot!" Twirling too fast for her brain to keep up, she was almost dizzy by the time she saw the bowl of pasta Harry had set in front of her, complete with salty cheese layered on top just like she asked. "That looks so good, H! Thank you."

Harry gave her a small smile. "You're welcome, baby."

A minute sense of deja vu niggled in the back of her head for just a second, but (Y/N) chose to ignore it in favor of twirling her fork through the spaghetti noodles.

Had cheese always tasted this good?

—————

"Harry, are you listening? This song is beautiful."

"I know, love. 'S perfect, huh?"

The drawl of Harry's response had (Y/N) peeking up at him. She found him lying with his eyes closed, mouth parted in a small gape, though his hand on her back never slowed the soothing circle he had curated.

"Are you tired?" (Y/N) whispered.

A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth at her question. "A little. Are you?"

(Y/N) paused, evaluating herself to give him an honest answer. "Yeah. A little." His heartbeat was set to a soothing pace under her ear, slowing into a steady rhythm as if urging him to sleep. "Are you almost asleep?"

Though she could see his eyes were closed and his breathing was coming in soft puffs, Harry didn't slack on the duties he had taken on for the night. Since pulling her to bed and setting a playlist to softly sing through his bedroom, he had kept his cuddling hold on her firm and anchoring. He answered her every time she spoke to him and even crawled his way to the bedside table to skip the song whenever she started to whine over the melody.

"A little," he smiled, his voice a deep rumble, "Are you?"

Another pause. "Maybe," (Y/N) answered honestly. She could fall asleep right now if she wanted, but she also wanted to keep listening to music.

Harry hummed, his chest vibrating under her cheek. "Is there anything y'want before y'get sleepy? More water or a snack?"

What did she need before she could peacefully fall asleep?

Blinking her gaze up at him, she took in the tip of his nose, the curving pillow of his cupid's bow and the creamy texture of his skin.

"A kiss? Please?"

At that, Harry cracked his eyes open to peer down at her. "Y'haven't had enough of those yet?"

"Never," she answered, completely honest. Harry still plucked a smile onto his lips at her response.

"Can't blame you, darling—me neither."

Shifting between the sheets, Harry used his free hand to cup (Y/N) cheek and tip her chin as he dipped down. He sealed his lips over hers in a loving kiss, nothing more than a soft pressing of their lips. She swore she could feel every ridge, every dip, every plane of his touch, catalogued to her memory though she hoped she would recall it in less fuzzy detail.

"Love you," she murmured between breaths, immediately planting her lips across his once more.

Harry smiled into the contact. He broke the rhythm of her kisses even further when he drew away, ignoring the way she chased after him with a craned neck and puckered lips.

"I love you too, lovebug." His eyes scanned over her features not for the first time that night, though something softened in his gaze. "You had a good time tonight?"

Walking through the lavender veiled events, everything was just a bit hazy and herbal, (Y/N)'s smile only grew.

"Uh-huh," she beamed up at him, feeling herself settle into him that much more, "Thank you for showing me."

Thumbing at the height of her cheekbone, Harry surged forward to press a delicate kiss to the bridge of her nose. "'M happy y'feel good, darling. That's all I want when we try new things."

"I'm always happy when I'm with you."

(Y/N) blinked as she saw his face light up with a bubbly smile, creases appearing by his eyes, dimples thumbed into his cheeks, and a slight flush over his nose.

Had his smile always been that pretty?

—————

eeeek! so happy I could get a new aster blurb out for everyone this year! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and lmk if yu have any ideas for anything you'd like to see!

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plexivie · 18 days

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Pt. 1

Katsuki Bakugou “Following”

Bakugou message to fans

Katsuki Bakugou “likes”

Katsuki Bakugou “DMs”

As you checked your phone groggily, you screamed the loudest you have ever screamed.

You immediately ran downstairs yelling.

“Mom. Mom!”

Your mom, annoyed, turns around to see you jumping up and down like a young child.

“BAKUGOU FOLLOWED ME ON INSTAGRAM.”

Your mom rolled her eyes as she nodded and continued to do what she was. Immediately after you stopped jumping, you got the awaited headache.

Unlike some parents, yours were not oblivious of the activities at the party. Your mom didn’t really mind considering how often she talked about how much “worse” she did when she was younger. Whatever that means.

You once again progress back to your room, immediately contacting all of your friends to let them know the news.

———————————————————————

After all your joy, you crashed out, still exhausted from last nights activities.

You didn’t wake up to nothing though.

Excitement once again ran through your veins. You didn’t fail to reply as soon as you saw it.

You didn’t send that last party, however. You didn’t want to seem as obsessed as you really were. But it didn’t really matter since he has access to your account.

Immediately a rose color arises to your cheeks. This isn’t your best moment.

‘I can’t believe he even saw any of my posts’

This was a big topic on your various group chats. Basically everyone you know is aware of your love for Bakugou, but they’re happy to hear something is finally happening with it.

You weren’t quite sure how to feel. After the last two texts though, you can’t help feel embarassed. Until another feeling comes your way.

‘THE KATSUKI BAKUGOU IS INTERESTED IN ME?’

A/N: congrats to Johnnie for getting a woman

I🩷him

taglist: @aespie @k1tk4tkatsuki @shewki @antriimx

#bhna x reader #mha #my hero academia #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #mha fluff #plexivie #bhna x you #fem reader #mha smau #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bhna bakugou #bakugou fluff #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader

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drabblesandimagines · 6 months

Text

Pink Gingham

Leon Kennedy x reader Established relationship, all fluff

It had been a long week at work. A number of your colleagues calling in sick and multiple projects in the pipeline, you’d tried to take up some of the slack with ill-advised early starts and late finishes...

Truthfully, if Leon hadn’t been away on assignment, you wouldn’t have volunteered for so much overtime.

The house still felt too big compared to the apartment you’d once shared, so the more time out of it at the moment the better, in your opinion. You’d started to feel a little off Friday morning, cast it aside as nothing that a lie-in Saturday would sort, but still found yourself awake at sunrise.

You’d got up, checked your phone to see if there were any messages – zero – showered and dressed, and taken the early wake-up call as a sign that you shouldn’t lie in today, but instead head downstairs to start on the long list of housework that had been neglected with good intentions.

You fill the kitchen sink with hot, soapy water and begin to wash the numerous glasses and cups that have built up. It must be the steam from the sink because there’s sweat on your brow by the second cup. You reason you should wait for the water cool down and take a bottle of water out the fridge, greedily gulping down half the thing before you change tact to loading the dishwasher.

After loading up the racks, you still feel too hot for what should for such a menial task. You’re feeling more akin to that time you tried to join Leon in one of his ridiculous work outs in the garage. To top it off, the beginning of a headache is now beginning to pound at your temples. You try and rub it half-heartedly away with your fingers, finally fighting back a yawn.

You check your phone again – still nothing.

It wouldn’t hurt to go back to bed, would it?

Your phone buzzes almost violently on the bedside table, startling you awake. The headache you had before you’d laid down for what might turn out to be an ill-advised nap doesn’t seem to have shifted, even with the painkillers you’d taken. In fact, it feels worse than it did, graduating into a horrible, constant throb around your temples.

You weakly kick the duvet off of you, feeling flush – should have got changed into your pjyamas rather than getting in bed fully dressed - and reach out blindly for your phone, holding it above your face to squint at the screen, trying to decipher what it was determined to tell you.

Two new messages from Leon.

Finally on my way home, sweetheart. Wrapped up yesterday but they wouldn’t discharge me till this morning. ETA 210 minutes.

You would’ve rolled your eyes at the acronym if it wasn’t already hard enough to focus.

And before you ask – bit bruised. Don’t recommend a prison tour…! All good otherwise x

Leon had set out on an assignment the previous weekend and you hadn’t heard much from him besides one text message a day, a sentence of more than three words if you were particularly lucky, often sweet words...

"All good."

"Miss you, sweetheart."

"I love you."

"Recycling out tomorrow!"

..or reminders about something you'd forget to do completely if he wasn't around. In fact, that’s the way it had always been if he was on what you’d call 'active duty', not just him in a stuffy suit up DC way, trailing behind the President. It's not like you’d got used to not hearing much from him, just that it was expected.

There was always that little lump in your throat when he was away, of course there was, that this would be the time you wouldn't hear from him at all and there'd just be a knock on the door, agents dressed in mourning suits.

Besides, you’d rather his focus was on coming back to you in one piece than trying to compose an update whilst shielding from bullets or something horrifying.

You haul yourself out of bed, immediately regretting it when your vision swims and you fall back down heavily on the mattress, balance somewhat abandoning you.

Probably just got up too fast, you reason, try and shrug it off. There’s there niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’re not well, but you’re going to remain in denial about it. You hate being sick, will never acknowledge you’re feeling under the weather to your grave and just muster on. It’s all psychological – it’s just a headache, you haven’t drunk enough water, not after you’ve sweated the last one out, didn’t have a proper breakfast either.

You’re fine. There’s too much to do, anyway. Every single time Leon had arrived home from an assignment it had been to a clean house and a home-cooked meal keeping warm in the oven, his favourite sweatpants fresh out of the dryer after you’d convinced him to soak in the tub – worked wonders for tense and bruised muscles – and you’ll be damned if he didn’t have the same today. It’s what he deserves.

He'd beam as soon as he walked in, wrapping you up tight in his arms, pressing a kiss against your temple and you’d run him said bath, finishing off dinner to be served for when he returned downstairs. What would follow would be an early retreat to bed, sometimes for devouring kisses and more, or just embraced in each other’s arms.

Leon’s text was from a while ago, so he couldn’t be too far away. Probably be hungry as well – often running off pure adrenaline when he was fighting for his life, then had an insatiable appetite on his return – so you really should try and see what you could combine from whatever’s in the refrigerator.

Ugh – you hadn’t done a grocery run in a few days. That had been on your agenda for today, though you’re not sure you’ll have time for that now. The laundry hamper is close to overflowing, the dishwasher definitely needs running after you crammed it full after dinner last night, some rogue plates and glasses piled up besides the sink and definitely a few rooms would benefit from the vacuum being run around.

You don’t even what to think about the garbage and recycling situation.

So much for his usual welcome home deal, then.

You get up a little slower this time, rewarded for your efforts by no spots of black in your vision and carefully head out the bedroom and towards the stairs, perhaps gripping the banister a little too firm on your descent than usual.

The easiest task by far is to pop the tablet in the dishwasher and set that to run, so you do that first, though making sure to bend down slowly after the previous bouts of head rush. After it whirs into action, you grab an apron off the hook – a pink frilly gingham one, a gift from a friend – and turn your attention to the fridge and proceed to stare forlornly at the contents, hoping for inspiration to strike.

You close the door in defeat and lean up against the counter. Maybe there’s some pasta and sauce in the cupboard…? Your thought is cut off as you hear the front door unlock.

“Sweetheart, you home?” You want to think it’s the sound of his voice that makes you weak at the knees, but you’d be a liar.

“In the kitchen!” You call back, keeping yourself propped up against the counter. Usually you’d be rushing towards him, colliding into his chest for a hug but everything feels impossible.

“Hey.” He smiles, creases at the corner of those blue eyes you could stare into for hours. Though he wasn’t lying in his text about the bruises – there’s a black eye blooming, currently a rather pleasing shade of purple, and plenty of other marks and scrapes littering his arms.

“Hey. Sorry, I haven’t started dinner yet.” Leon raises his eyebrow at that, and you feel awful, but it’s not for the reason you think. “No, sorry. I mean, welcome home! I’ll just star-” You stand upright, intending to head over to the cupboard in search of something, but your step is a bit too heavy, too quick to move and your vision swims again.

“Whoa.” Leon catches you by your shoulders, holding you up. “You feeling all right there, sweetpea?”

“I’m great.” You try and shrug him off, but his heavy palms stay in place. “Are you okay?”

His brows furrow, eyes scanning over your face. “You look hot.” The concern gives way to a grin as he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, not the usual hot. Warm.”

A hand remains on your shoulder while he moves the other to your forehead, gauging your temperature, but you’ll be damned to admit it feels soothingly cool. “I’ll turn the AC on. Let me-”

“Shit, no. You’re burning up.” Leon’s eyes widen, a worried crease appearing on his brow. “How long have you been like this?”

“No, it’s just…” You pull your head back from his hand, reluctantly. “It’s just hot in here.”

He gives you a skeptical look as you try and step around him – a look that would usually be accompanied with his hands on his hips if he didn’t still have one keeping you in place.

“How long?” He repeats, his mind racing, heart pounding. It was protocol to be decontaminated after any interaction with a BOW – he’d showered and changed clothes since Alcatraz. Hell, he’d bagged up his old ones to be incinerated, just to be sure. He knows it’s not logical, he can’t have brought something back with him and it affect you this fast, but the worry still surfaces. “From before I got home or just now? Did you feel a sting or anything?”

“Sting? No.” You shake your head, scrambling for excuses. “I’ve had a headache all morning but I probably haven’t drunk enough water. And… And I didn’t have the AC on or the windows open today, it’s probably that.”

“Mm-hm.” He relaxes a little, he’d already began calculating the distance between here and the lab. “Have I told you before that you’re a terrible liar?”

“Honestly, I’m fine,” you protest, taking advantage. “I can get dinner started at least. You go relax and I’ll…!”

Your vision swims again from sudden movement, but this time it’s from Leon sweeping you up into his arms. He doesn’t even let out a grunt, even though you know he must be aching from the amount of bruises he has.

“Sweetheart, we’re barely into the afternoon. You don’t need to worry about dinner - you’re going back to bed.”

“No, I’ve got so much to do.” You lament, though you don’t fight as he adjusts his hold on you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he heads towards the stairs.

“So? I can handle it.”

“But you just got back, I should be looking after you.”

That’s the way it had always been. Leon comes home and you’re there for him, however he needs you to be. Sometimes he’ll tell you about what happened as he cuddles into your chest – likes to hear your heartbeat, reminds him of some good in the world – but you’ve failed miserably this time, not even remotely prepared.

“Sweetpea, I know you hate being sick but you aren’t going to feel any better pushing yourself, okay? Let me fuss over my favourite girl for once.”

You don’t say anything as he places you gently down on the bed, sitting up against the headrest. He goes over to the dresser and pulls out one of his t-shirts, tugging the knot of the apron strings loose before softly asking you to put your arms up above your head. It’s all gentle touches, removing the apron, coercing you out of your top and into his, shuffling you out of your jeans and pulling back the covers for you to get in.

“These the painkillers you took?” He lifts up the box from the bedside table, eyes skimming the instructions and dosage.

“Yeah.” You mumble back, nuzzling your cheek into the pillow. “I don’t remember when though.”

“We’ll hold off a couple more hours, then, before another dose.”

He grabs the glass that was sat beside the pills and retreats into the bathroom, where you hear the tap run for a moment before he’s back at your side, placing down the glass of water. He crouches down besides you and gently brushes some of your hair behind your ear.

“Can I get you anything?”

You open an eye. “You.”

He grins, gets to his feet and carefully clambers over you to lie down at your back, draping a heavy arm around your waist.

“Only for a bit, though. Don’t want you overheating from me.”

“Mm-hm…” You mumble into the pillow, feeling your body relax. The weight of his arm feels nice – reassuring. “Love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

It isn’t long before Leon can hear your breathing change, assuring him that you’ve drifted off to sleep. He could stay there easily, just close his eyes and nod off and though he knows you would never oppose that, the way you’d be so determined to get the house in order... A flash of pink gingham on the floor makes up his mind.

---

You wake up alone in the bed, a little confused, but clear of the awful headache. Looking for the glass of water you know that Leon left there earlier, you notice that the bedside table now holds your phone, plugged into charge. You sit up slowly – still wary of dizzy spells - greedily drink from the glass of water, feeling it slip down your throat into a particularly empty stomach. Seems like your appetite had decided to reappear.

The digital alarm clock over on the dresser shows that it’s gone 8pm and, most intriguingly, the laundry basket is now empty. Huh.

You don’t bother to dress as you head downstairs, still clad in Leon’s t-shirt. The TV’s playing on a low volume, a candle burning on the coffee table. You can hear the thrum of the washing machine from the utility and when you head through to the kitchen, you find Leon hunched over the sink, apron strings tied around his waist as he dips a glass into the soapy water. The dishwasher is slightly ajar and you can see it’s been emptied, and he’s washing everything left in the sink – by hand.

He looks over his shoulder with a hesitant smile at the sound of your footsteps and then turns, drying his hands off on the apron – the pink frilly gingham number seems to suit him a little too well.

“Hey. Not sure you should be up yet, sweetheart. You were a bit unsteady on your feet earlier. Go sit down for me?”

“Okay.” You nod, and he’s pleased that you don’t protest – putting it down to the fact that you still must be feeling somewhat lousy. He traces your footsteps as you plod over to sit on the sofa though, just in case, and watches you curl up against the armrest.

“You feel up to eating something? I ordered in some soup earlier. Can warm it up on the stove now if you like – it’s your favourite.”

You nod. “That sounds nice.”

“Coming right up.” He pulls the blanket from off the armchair – the one that’s usually reserved for movie nights – and tucks it around you, pressing a kiss on your forehead as he does.

He turns to head back to the kitchen when he feels your fingers curl around his wrist, causing him to pause.

“I’m sorry I’m an awful patient.”

“You’re not, just stubborn,” Leon corrects with a cocky grin, but it doesn’t have the desired effect as the pout remains in place on your lips, thoughts spiraling. “But so am I.”

“No, I should be looking after you. You should be coming back to everything in order. Whatever this is won’t be anywhere near as bad as what you’ve been through - those bruises look so sore an-“

“Hey, it’s not a competition, sweetpea.” He says, softly, crouching down in front of you, rubbing your thigh with his right hand. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”

“It feels like I’ve let you down.”

“Never.” He says, firmly, giving you thigh a squeeze. “Actually impossible. I’m just glad I got back in time to keep an eye on you, I just hate the idea of you feeling lousy on your own.”

The washing machine beeps from the utility and he gets to his feet, passing you the remote from the coffee table. “Why don’t you find us something to watch, and I’ll move the laundry to the dryer and get that soup warmed up?”

“If you’re sure.”

He bends down, presses a kiss against your crown.

“Positive.”

He only makes it a few steps back towards the kitchen when you call out, looking bashful.

“Leon?”

“Mm?” He twists slightly to look back in curiosity.

“You look cute in that apron.”

He gives you a twirl, ending with a beaming grin. “I know.”

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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barcaatthemoon · 5 months

Text

unlucky || alessia russo x reader ||

alessia gets sick and has to miss out on the conti cup final, bringing up some feelings for both of you.

one thing you had learned early on about alessia was that she was not as slick as she thought. you had noticed alessia coming down with whatever was going around the training grounds just a couple days before the game. the conti cup final was a big deal, and alessia wanted so badly to win with arsenal, but you knew that wasn't going to happen.

arsenal's chances were good, but there was no way that alessia was making it to the game. she had been bedridden the day before with a migrane and a fever. alessia played it off like a minor headache, but you could hear the whimpers whenever she thought you weren't paying attention.

that morning, alessia had gotten out of bed and dressed herself up for the game. she had nearly managed to make it out of the apartment without waking you up. the crash in the living room from alessia tripping over herself was more than enough to have you running into the living room. you weren't exactly surprised to find alessia sitting on the floor, but you were definitely disappointed.

"come on, back to bed with you." you reached out to help her up onto her feet. alessia looked utterly miserable as you dragged her back into the bedroom. "what were you thinking less? you're still burning up!"

"i've got a game, and it's an important one," alessia told you. "i can't miss this, it's the final."

"you don't have a choice, and neither do i. if you really want to go, we can watch and support our friends, but you aren't playing," you told her. alessia pouted as she settled back in the bed with you. as much as you wanted her to get better, you were somewhat grateful that she was still too sick to really argue with you.

alessia was fairly quick to fall back sleep, still dressed in her kit. you usually loved watching alessia sleep, but this wasn't the same. alessia tossed and turned in bed, never quite able to get comfortable. your heart ached for her, knowing that the look on her unconscious face wasn't just because of her illness.

winning with arsenal was a big deal to alessia. she wanted to hold that trophy up for the gunners alongside her team. it was all alessia had been talking about since she signed. the season had gone well, even if there had been quite a few wrenches thrown into the plan. each of those times, alessia had been the picture of optimistic, but today she seemed utterly defeated.

"hey, how are you feeling lovely?" you asked alessia as she started to wake up. she sounded a lot less congested, but you weren't going to suggest going to the game for her. if she felt up to it, you were sure that she'd say something to you.

"i feel like everything i've worked towards doesn't matter," alessia grumbled. you sighed as you turned onto your stomach. the look on alessia's face was even worse now that she was awake. you didn't think that you had seen her look so upset since the world cup final. "i don't get it. i work so hard all of the time. why can't i catch a fucking break?"

"lessi, baby," you sighed. you tried to move in to comfort her, but alessia slipped out of bed. "come back to bed, please. talk to me, i don't want you to shut down, please."

"no, i can't right now. just, please, give me a few minutes to myself. i'm going for a walk," alessia said. you watched as she put a hoodie on to cover up her jersey. it was hard to watch alessia just walk out like that, but you knew that you had to give her space. she didn't ask for it often, and you knew better than to try and get close when she resorted to that.

you tried to stay in the bedroom, but you couldn't just sit there and wait for her all afternoon. it was hard, but you managed to get through most of your afternoon with alessia gone. she had sent you a couple of texts promising that she'd be fine, but that didn't stop your worrying. it didn't help that alessia's walk out turned into a pint before she made her way to the stadium to watch the game.

a part of you wanted to go and support your club, but you stayed in the apartment. you felt like alessia's bad luck was all your fault. the only times in the decade that you'd known her that she had gotten like this was after the two of you had begun seeing each other. it was like every single loss in alessia's life was your fault. she had hit a string of bad luck, and you were at the center of it.

sometime during the game, you had pulled out a few bottles of alcohol from the fridge. by the end of the game, you were definitely way past tipsy. you laid your head down, prepared to rest for a moment before you called the girls to congratulate them. instead, you completely passed out, only to wake up to alessia carrying you back into the bedroom in the middle of the night.

"less?" you cracked your eyes open. your head was killing you already, as if the alcohol had worn off just enough to give you a taste of what you'd get in the morning. "what time is it?"

"it's just a bit past 10. sorry that i stayed out so long," alessia apologized. she laid you down in the bed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "the girls missed you in the locker room. katie tried to facetime you, she thought something was wrong."

"something is wrong, and it's all my fault. i'm like your little bad luck charm," you mumbled. you never would have said that sober, and alessia tried not to think about how long you had felt that way. "all the bad things happen because of me, and i'm sorry. you should leave me, find yourself a lucky girl because i'm like a goddamn black cat."

"i don't want a lucky girl. i don't think you're unlucky at all, not one bit," alessia told you. she pressed a kiss to the top of your head as the two of you settled down comfortably. you knew that it'd only be for a moment, but you were happy in her arms. "you didn't get me sick. in fact, you took off from your recovery to help me get better today. any time that i need something, you practically trip over yourself to get it for me."

"excuse me, but we are not all as clumsy as you, ma'am," you joked. alessia shoved your shoulder as you laughed at your own joke. "i'd do anything for you. missing today hurt me too, but i'm glad that you went to watch the game instead of getting drunk like me."

"oh my god, i'm an idiot!" alessia exclaimed. you flinched at the sudden shouting fit, which alessia quietly apologized for as she gave you a quick squeeze.

"i don't think you're an idiot, less." you leaned up to press a kiss to her cheek.

"you're injured. you've been injured for months now, and i miss one game because of a cold and i bitch all about it. i'm so sorry, i didn't even think about your feelings. how could i be so inconsiderate?" alessia looked like she was about to cry as she came to the realization that she had moped around for most of the day with you. you had gotten used to knowing that you'd miss things because of your injury, and alessia was always painfully careful about the things she chose to celebrate.

"don't beat yourself up, it's fine. i knew when i went down that it wasn't going to be on the six weeks side of things. this was big for you, and it was your dream to win with arsenal. you had to sit out on this game, but by this time next year, you won't remember how bad it felt when you're scoring hat tricks left and right," you said. alessia smiled, and you knew that she was thinking about that feeling. "but before you can do any of that, you've got to rest and get better."

"i don't know what i'd do without you sometimes," alessia admitted. she felt a bit foolish about how she had acted earlier, even if you repeatedly let her know that her feelings were valid.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

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avaf00rd · 8 months

Text

Australian kinda Christmas

Leah Williamson x Arnold!Reader

ava what is that shitty header photo job…

tumblr fucked up its quality

anyways I’ve been thinking about writing this one for ages now

enjoy <3

——————————

“c’mon love” you groaned at your 10th attempt to get your girlfriend up from your Power Nap. You pair were already late as it is “don’t you wanna shower before you can’t for a whole 24 hours?” You asked, her head still buried in the pillows. She stayed like that, contemplating for another second before getting up and heading to the bathroom “don’t be long” you said before tapping her ass just as she opened the bathroom door.

You got a text from your sister Mackenzie telling you that she was already at her lay over flight and would be boarding again in an hour. This year you pair didn’t get the same flight over for the Christmas break. But it was the first year you would both be bringing your girlfriends with you.

You and leah had been together 4 years now. The second year you spent Christmas with Leah’s family, last year you and mac both went with your parents overseas for Christmas. And this year you would both be bring Leah and Kirsty.

Some how an hour and a half later you were just passing security only just and were going to get some small snacks for the plane. Leah, with the food palate of a 6 year old. Got some watermelon gummies “they help with feeling sick on the plane” she tried to convince you as you glanced over the packet she said was holding.

“4 years and not once have you been sick on a flight” you said

“The headaches” she shrugged and smiled at you. Of course you were gonna grab them off her and buy them for her. You grabbed some random chip snack you found at the front counter and shorty paid before handing the bag to Leah to put in her carry on. You were both absolutely beyond excited. This would be her 5th time in Australia, so she’s been heaps. But you would be staying at your family’s new place on the Gold Coast, QLD. You both sat in the lounge near your gate as you took a photo of Leah as she threw a Lolly into her mouth while smiling. Quickly adding it to your instagram captioning ‘see you soon 🇦🇺’

———

After 26 hours of travel. And your sleepy girlfriend who was currently clinging to your bicep as she slept. It was asked to put on your seatbelts as you went for landing. You slowly woke Leah up slightly so she would be ready for it.

You held hands as Leah started giggling about her funny dream. You looked out the window and squeezed your girlfriend’s hand extra tight as you saw the coastline of Australia.You squealed like a little girl due to your excitement as Leah pressed a kiss to your lips. “Welcome home love” she said before laying back in her seat. You took photos and sent them to your dad and brother to let them know you would be at GC airport in about 45 minutes so they could you pick you both up. You also texted your mum just out of excitement before putting your phone away.

Once you and Leah had gotten off the plane, you walked your tired asses over to the baggage collection. Before you felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned to find your smiling dad and brother. You quickly clung on to them both in a huge hug “oh how i missed you oh my gosh” you said into your brothers neck with a sigh of relief. You also felt small hands tug your sweat shorts, you didn’t realise one of your nieces would be here too.

“Hello beautiful girl!” You squealed pulling away from your brother as you picked up your niece and spun the giggling girl around.

“I missed you so much!” She said before quickly clinging to your neck.

“I missed you so much more” you smiled back. You hadn’t seen the small girl since the World Cup back in August.

You held her on your hip as you turned around to see your girlfriend finally hugging your dad and brother Sam with a big smile. After struggling to get both of your large suitcases off the conveyor belt while you had your mini family reunion.

“Aunty Lee!” You niece squirmed in your arms as you put her down so she could run to Leah.

“Hello you!” Your girlfriend smiled and she knelt down to give her a big hug. It melted your heart the way she was with your nieces.

Leah handed you your suitcase as you pecked her cheek before you rolled it out the airport with your smiling niece riding on top.

“Hello” you yelled out once your dad unlocked the front door to your parents home. You were met with your mum, 2 nieces, Mackenzie and Kirsty all rushing around the corner at the sound of the front door.

You and Leah gave all of them bone crushing hugs and chatted for a little while, had some of the left overs that was left from their dinner since you told them not to wait. It was already 10pm. It was convenient for your girlfriend and you so you could just get yourselves straight to bed.

——————————-

After multiple days of walks down on the beach, family dinners, more surfing lessons for Leah, lots of jet lag, swimming pools and relaxation for you and your girlfriend. It was officially Christmas Eve night and you couldn’t have been more excited if you had tried.

You, leah, Macca and Kirsty were all on the living room floor carpet wrapping presents. Everyone else was in bed. But the four girls in their twenties were not as prepared as everyone else and still had to do all their wrapping.

The holiday played on the TV in front as you had about 40 gifts to wrap for people. For everyone in your family besides the people in the room with you currently. “Stupid wrapping paper argh!” You groaned knocking your head back in frustration as the huge cut of wrapping paper you cut wasn’t large enough by a few centimetres.

“See you didn’t even need to get that gift in the first place” Leah laughed. As you were wrapping your 20th gift for your parents, you comepletely spoil them every year.

You dragged Leah around the large shopping centre to get more gifts for people. “Baby you bought your mum the same scent candle last year i remember you showed me” she grinned as you looked at the box before putting it in your trolley. “Yeah but it probs ran out. That’s the thing with candles lee” you debated back as she shook her head with laughter.

“Sorry I’m just so nice to the People i love” you said to her.

“And you absolutely are, beautiful. But I don’t think we will be able to get return flights anymore once we leave here” Leah said.

“I make alright money Leah Williamson. Plus if you think this is a lot wait till you open your presents.” You smiled at her

“There’s only just a few things I want” she grinned at you as you both walked to the car

“What would those be baby” you smirked back.

“You…and that pop corn machine thing I showed you”

“You showed me that just yersterday! How am I supposed to get that” You panicked. When it came to gifts you were amazing at giving them. Everyone knew that and got excited to receive one from you. If they weren’t perfect for them you would always worry.

“I’m only joking…” she laughed as she kissed your head “at the second one”.

Once you were finished you cuddled up next to Leah on the floor against the couch to watch the end of the movie. Before heading upstairs to your room “night love you” you yelled out softly to mac and Kirsty “goodnight!” They replied before shutting their door. Leah changed out of her normal clothes that she strangely got into after her shower earlier in the night.

“Please match baby” you pouted, sitting on the edge of the bed holding up the Christmas Pajamas that matched yours.

Leah laughed as she saw them, “when did you get those” she said before cupping your face and kissing the tip of your nose.

“Back in London. I forgot I had packed them. Anyways here” you shoved them into her chest with the wide smile of a toddler.

“Of course I will” Leah skipped away to her dresser to change quickly. You giggled getting under the sheets before Leah jumped on top of you just as you were leaning over to plug your phone in. You laughed as she wrapped her long arms around you and placed kisses all over you shoulder.

“I’m so excited to for tomorrow” you smiled looking down on her.

“Me too” the English girl replied as she rolled over so you could cuddle into her side. That’s how you slept every night. It was just the best way that your bodies melted into each other. “Love you baby” she whispered.

“Night beautiful” you smiled before drifting off to sleep.

——-

Christmas morning started with slow cuddles in bed with Leah before very hyper toddlers came running down the bedroom door. They had forced you to come downstairs because they weren’t allowed to “open presents until everyone is awake”.

Leah gave multiple gifts to everyone in your family. Even though she hadn’t met some of them heaps. You gifted Leah a new designer tote bag, some belt she wanted, 2 new Apple Watch bands, YSL perfume, and Tiffany earrings along with other small gifts. She spoiled you loads as well. You two spent a long phone call with her mum before lunch started.

The afternoon was still hot. As the rain cleared, you dragged Leah, your sister and everyone down to the beach.

You were putting on sunscreen in the long mirror in your room. Leah had just done up her bikini before coming up behind you “let me help” she grinned as you were reaching for your back for the sunscreen. You gladly let her as she took the bottle from you. She rubbed gentle circles into your back with the cream, you groaned when her hands made their way up to you shoulders.

“That’s nice” you breathed out as she massaged your back. She sent a grin to the mirror.

“Let’s go” she said before tapping your butt and heading out the door, sunnies on her head. You laughed to yourself as you followed her out. You carried two of your nieces the whole Walk down while talking with Leah and Kirsty. Talking about Kristy mewis’s new transfer to their club.

“I don’t want to jinx anything. But I had a dream last night I did my ACL” you blurted.

“What-“ Kirsty laughed as you said so

“That’s not funny” Leah said

“And then…I died from it. Is that possible?”

“No it’s not. And you’re not going to do your ACL alright?” Leah reassured

“Shit who’s done their ACL?” Mackenzie said catching up to all of you with your third niece on her shoulders.

“Maybe me”

“What!-“

“No!” Leah said putting her towel down in a mess on the beach. You jumped on macca’s back as she ran down to the water. Leah and Kirsty slowly following down after.

“Come here!” You yelled, arms wide open for your niece to jump into them as you took her to the deep end. Leah laughed taking a photo of you and the small girl. “Get in Lee!” You yelled out to her

“Yep soon hang on” she said typing something on her phone. You rose out of the water, putting the child in your arms down near Mackenzie as you ran up to your girlfriend. “No no no” she said backing away.

You somehow, caught up to her and threw her over her shoulder

“No no I have my phone y/n!” She yelled. You muzzled it out of her hand and slowly put in down on the sand next to you.

“Down we go” you sung. As you carried the laughing girl into the water. Before completely dumping her in fully.

“Your done” she huffed as she pushed the wet hair out of her face. You swam and hid behind your taller sister as she just grabbed you by the shoulders and placed you in front of her, right in target for Leah.

“Thanks” your girlfriend said before pushing your shoulders under. The water was actually cold for the humid weather outside.

————

It was late at Christmas night. Technically very early Boxing Day. And even though at 1am, there was light Christmas tunes playing on the radio tv.

Everyone including Leah was asleep in the house. You came down for a midnight snack. You had been for the past few nights here.

“Shockers” a soft voice was heard a long with footsteps. The presence of your older sister brought a smile to your lips. You stuffed the last bit of pavlova in your mouth. “Anymore of that?” She pointed to the dessert.

You just giggled implying you at the last bit. “Again shockers”

“Oi”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a year”

“You never got back to me about meeting back in London. And you missed last camp” you implied

“I know sorry. Promise to try more”

“Stop you do try. You were just injured” you said softly as you poured both of you a water. “Are you planning on going with Kirsty to her family next year?” You asked curious.

“Yeah most likely I haven’t been there for Christmas before. What about you?”

“Yeah I’ll probs stay in London with Leah. I told you Caitlin brought Katie and Jordan here?”

“Yes. I’m shocked about Jordan. Not Katie. Oh I love her” she said sipping her water then refilling it

“They’re just really close as a three. Caitlin said today Sam is heading back to America in 2 days to go back with Kristie”

“Damn maybe she’ll finally feel jet lag for once. And did Caitlin call you?”

“Yeah. Just to say merry Christmas and all that”

“She didn’t call me” Mackenzie said joking in a sour way. You poked your tongue out at her as she yawned.

“Ok I’ll go back to bed. I’ve been up since 5”

“5?!”

“Yeah. The girls woke us up first. Proof I’m the favourite?”

“Maybe I’m the favourite and they just respect my beauty sleep more”

“Keep dreaming. Night. Get to sleep so your not cranky” you sister said, back to her bossy self. You heard more footsteps coming back down 1 minute later.

“Love come back to bed” said your love in a croaky voice. You turned to find Leah in her short Pyjama set and her hair everywhere.

“Hello. Looks like you slept well” you said pointing to the sheet marks left from her pillow on her check las you quickly pecked her all over her face.

“Yes I did. And I would like to get back to it. With you” she tugged you slightly back up the stairs.

“I think I’m still a bit jet lagged” you said as your body stayed leaning against the bench. Eating the strawberry punnet you grabbed out of the fridge earlier before.

“Ya think” she giggled now pulling out a kitchen stool to sit with you. The faint sound of The Christmas song by Nat King Cole was played over the radio.

“C’mon dance with me, then bed I promise” you put both your hands out the help her get up and slow dance with you.

“Only cause I get to sleep” she smiled taking your hands. You slowly started dancing with her as she put her head in the crook of her neck. The dance slowed into a long hug with each other’s embrace in the middle of the kitchen.

“I love you” you mumbled slowly into her hair

“Love you most. And again thanks for bringing me” she pecked your shoulder

“Wouldn’t miss the opportunity for the world”

——————

So this was supposed to come out ages ago. And it’s shorter than I hoped. But hope it was alright. Luv u all❤️🎄

#woso #arsenal women #caitlin foord #katie mccabe #auswnt #mackenzie arnold #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson one shot #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #christmas #matildas #l

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writtnbyhan · 11 months

Text

Let me take care of you.

PAIRING: han jisung x reader

TAGS: sickfic, idol!han, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 1927

PROMPT: "and just when were you going to tell me about your [injury/illness]?" You're sick and Jisung is worried -- That's the plot.

warnings: mentions of being sick (reader has a cold). Let me know if I missed a warning.

author's note: i don't know where this came from. I had something very different planned for today's post but this came to me in a vision and now i can only think of jisung taking care of his s/o, he's so baby and he's probably so good at taking care of people !!!!! i just wanna be in between his arms !! being cared for !!!

Okay, here’s the thing: you knew you were getting kinda sick. You knew from the way your body ached when you first woke up, from the sore throat and from the general feeling of being unwell. However, you decided it was not a big deal, and that was obviously your first mistake.

It was Jisung’s kind-of-free day, which meant he only had to go to the studio with 3RACHA to work on “some stuff”, as he put it himself, refusing to elaborate claiming that it was a surprise. You knew they were probably working on music for the next comeback even when this one wasn’t even out yet, and that’s why Jisung wouldn’t come clean, wanting to avoid your reprimanding from overworking themselves when they finally have some free time from the studio, only having to comply with the schedules related to the comeback.

On these days, he was usually only busy for a few hours before they got distracted with something random and therefore decided to call it quits, going home and relaxing for a few hours before moving onto the next scheduled activity. Today, Jisung didn’t have any of those, only going to the studio and then straight back home. You didn’t want to ruin what little time together you were getting these days, and you weren’t actually sick yet, so it wasn’t anything you should worry about.

You woke up alone, the other side of the bed unmade from when Hanji woke up, earlier, and went to the gym before the studio. He spent most nights with you, cuddling to make up for the time you weren’t capable of being together due to busy schedules and responsibilities. Everything ached, and the only thing you wanted to do was cover yourself with the sheets and sleep some more. But, you couldn’t do that. You needed to take a shower, clean up a bit, and force yourself to feel better. “Just for today, tomorrow we can be sick,” you told your body as you got out of bed, frowning and closing your eyes when the light coming through the window was quick to cause you a headache.

Shower first, you decided, going for the warm water and hoping it’d help with the pain on your body. It did, luckily. You then brushed your teeth, noticing on the mirror that the bags under your eyes were darker and more noticeable. Yes, you were obviously getting sick. Tomorrow. You were getting sick tomorrow, because today you had to spend the day with Jisung and cuddle with him watching Ghibli movies, it was a need.

After breakfast, you took some ibuprofen and sent Jisung a quick text.

“good morning, baby. hope everything’s going well at the studio, missing you already :)”

Putting your phone down after that, you set out to clean up the apartment, taking more ibuprofen whenever your body was being inconvenient to you.

“hello cutie, we’re actually wrapping up for the day!! going home in 30, love you.” You read the text when ten minutes had already passed since it was received. With a smile on your face, you sent a quick reply, knowing it wasn’t necessary given that he was already coming home, but also knowing that he would sulk if you didn’t reply to his “love you”.

“love you too<3 will be waiting with the popcorn ready.”

Making good on your promise, you started making popcorn and conditioning the living room for

Making good on your promise, you started making popcorn and setting up the living room for your movie plans, bringing all the blankets you could find (which was not actually necessary, but you were starting to feel cold so you thought it’d be better to have those around) and the pillows from your bed.

As you were placing the popcorn on the table with some juice, the door opened, and in came the squirrel-looking boy that was able to put a smile on your face instantaneously, even when you were feeling so ill.

“Hello, my love!” you said, dramatically, bringing a hand to your own chest as if to hold your heart. “I thought you’d never make it, I was left missing you for too long!”

He smiled with that heart-shaped smile that made your heart do spins. You felt dizzy just by looking at him (okay, maybe that was the cold you probably had, but you decided to convince yourself it was Jisung’s fault). “My lady, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, shall we begin with our plans?”

You giggled, skipping towards him to give him a kiss on the cheek and drag him to the couch that was currently surrounded by blankets. You chose one and threw it over both of you, getting comfortable in between your boyfriend’s arms with the remote in hand.

Halfway through the first Ghibli movie of the night, you began sneezing.

“’m sorry” you mumbled, getting up to grab some tissues and noticing you felt much more sick than in the morning.

You should tell Jisung, you knew that. But he’d worry, and you didn’t want to cut your night together short.

So, you didn’t. You grabbed the tissues and got back into his arms, kissing his hands when they were in front of you. Jisung freezed when you did that, and you frowned — it was a common gesture between the two of you, why was he reacting like that?

His hand went quickly to your forehead.

Oh, that.

Jisung gasped.

“Baby, you’re burning up.”

He sounded worried, and you sighed.

“I know.” You said. You didn’t actually know you had a fever, but you didn’t want him to make a fuss. You wanted to watch movies together, and cuddle, and sleep. And okay, maybe you had a headache and that had made you grumpy, which was something that always happened when you were sick so Jisung was used by now to your complaints about his caring.

However, despite knowing you always reacted badly to feeling unwell, that comment had made him frown, looking at you while his hand was still on your forehead.

“You knew?” he repeated, clearly agravated by what you had just told him. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me? When you collapsed in the hallway or while I was being forced to bring you to the hospital?”

He was being dramatic, of course, but the sincerity in his worry and his concern made your heart soften a little, so you directed your eyes to the floor, blinking to try and ease the headache that had formed from looking at the screen for too long.

“I didn’t wanna worry you” you mumbled, voice soft and shy. He melted a little at that, his anger dissapearing almost as quick as it had made his way forth.

“Baby, you need someone to take care of you when you’re feeling like this. We could’ve just cuddled in bed so you were more comfortable, and I could’ve been checking on your temperature and your medicine. What hurts?” he asked, giving a little kiss to your forehead before letting his hold around you loosen, clearly having plans of getting up.

You whined at the lost of his warmth against your back, your eyes filling up with unwanted tears at the cold and the loneliness you suddenly felt.

“Hannie…” you cried out, looking up at him, who looked almost bewildered. When he met your eyes, a pout formed in his face. He extended his arms towards you, now standing in front of the couch, and hugged you so you could attach yourself to him like a koala would to a tree. Your hold was weak, so he made sure to keep you safe with one hand on your back while he wrapped a blanket around you as if you were a baby. You knew the plan was to get you to your shared bed so you could cuddle more comfortably and drift off to sleep when you needed it. Problem was: you had needed it for about 15 minutes by now, so hiding your face in his neck and letting his warmth envelop you, you were quick to fall asleep against him, not minding his movements or the sounds around you.

You woke up when it was already dark outside. A wet cloth was on your forehead and you were now in bed, your boyfriend’s hand on your waist and Ponyo playing in the background. You looked to your bedside table and found a water bottle and some pills that you knew you didn’t have in your house. You knew Jisung never wanted to leave your side when you were sick, no matter that you were asleep, so you were sure he had those delivered or asked one of the boys to pick them up for him.

You turned around, letting the wet cloth fall off so as to hide your face in his chest. You felt better after sleeping, and you were sure your fever had subsided because you no longer felt cold, but your throat was still sore and your eyes still stung with the light.

At your movement, Han directed all his attention towards you, kissing your forehead and tightening his hold on your waist.

“Hello, sleepyhead. You need to take some medicine, I asked Chan-hyung to bring it here because all you had was some ibuprofen, and you were running out of it. How are you feeling?” he asked, his free hand caressing your hair and making you feel a lot more relaxed, even when your back still ached and your throat hurt.

“I’m okay,” you settled for, your voice coming out raspy and probably revealing what you were hiding. He chuckled, and you knew he knew what you just said was a lie, so you sighed. “I’m feeling a lot better, but my throat still hurts and my body aches. It’s probably just a cold.” You mumbled the last part against his chest, a subtle way of saying: there’s no need to worry this much.

He nodded, which you knew because you felt his head moving above yours. “Probably. Please, take some medicine so you can feel better faster.”

You did as he asked, taking the pill he was offering you and drinking from the water bottle he had uncapped and handed to you. You smiled at him in thanks, after wincing from the bitter taste of the pill.

“Sorry for ruining or movie date.” Your eyes were sad and he knew you were sincerely sorry. A pout formed on your lips as you thought of when you would be able to have the next one, knowing it’d be difficult to plan out given that the comeback was so close.

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” he said, equally as sincere. “It’s not your fault you got sick, and I don’t mind taking care of you — I really like it, actually. Plus, I got to watch the movies while watching you sleep, so… I really don’t mind. I just want you to be okay so we can have more movie dates.”

You blushed at his words, feeling soft and just wanting to kiss him — you both knew you should not do that, for he couldn’t get sick now because he had a lot of presentations and performances to do. You pouted.

“This is so unfair, I want to kiss you so badly,” you complained, and he laughed, kissing your cheek.

“I know, baby, me too. So, take your medicine so I can get all the kisses you owe me.”

#✿ . . cami writes #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #han jisung fluff

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bloodreinasbathwater · 3 months

Text

Where Kings Land

Part 1

Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark! Reader

a.n: I finally get the hype about Jace. This right here is one fine man. the hair, the freckles, the big nose. ALL of it. this is part 1 of the miniseries for House of the Dragon, and it's my first time writing outside of the regular asoiaf series. Enjoy and please lmk what you think!!

Warnings: manipulation, not proofread, yelling, cursing? talk of beheading and treason.

Word Count: 4,900

masterlist link

summary: In the harsh lands of the North, where winter's bite is ever-present, a tale of duty, desire, and deception unfolds within the ancient walls of Winterfell. Y/N Stark, sister to the absent Lord Cregan, finds herself caught in a web of political intrigue as the realm teeters on the brink of civil war.

...

The heavy wooden door slammed behind her with a resounding thud, echoing through the granite corridors of Winterfell. Y/n Stark—sister to the Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark—strode purposefully down the hallway, her frustration evident in every step. The torches lining the walls cast flickering shadows across her face, highlighting the furrow of her brow. She yanked her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders, warding off the perpetual chill that seeped through the ancient stones. The servants scurried out of her path, lowering their eyes as she passed. Y/n barely noticed them, her mind occupied with the litany of tasks that lay before her. The castle, a sprawling behemoth of grey stone and timber, was a living, breathing entity, and Y/n felt the weight of its responsibilities press down on her.

Cregan, her brother, was a warrior, a leader born to the battlefield. He thrived on the thrill of the hunt, the clash of steel, the shouts of battle. The day-to-day running of Winterfell, the endless paperwork, the constant negotiations, the delicate dance of alliances and diplomacy… these fell upon his shoulders. He was a silent force, a steady hand guiding the ship through the turbulent seas of politics and power.

Reaching the grand hall, Y/n paused, her gaze sweeping over the gathered lords and ladies. Their conversations buzzed like a hive of bees, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceiling. She longed to be amongst them, to share in the joy of a feast, to ease the burden of her thoughts, but the weight of the impending winter hung heavy on her heart.

The biting wind whipped around Y/n's face as she ascended the final steps to the maester's tower. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and old magic, a familiar and comforting aroma despite its inherent chill. Inside, the room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern, casting long shadows across the piles of scrolls and tomes that littered the floor. Y/n's boots clicked against the stone floor, a sharp counterpoint to the rustle of the raven that perched on the window sill, its beady eyes fixed on her with an unsettling intelligence. The bird was a harbinger of news, always, and today, its arrival had filled her with a sense of foreboding dread.

“You've got ravens in your hair,” the maester, Alyn, said with a dry chuckle, his voice raspy from years of whispering secrets into ancient texts. He was a frail figure, his fingers gnarled and stained with ink, his eyes filled with a wisdom that seemed to encompass the entirety of the world. She brushed at her hair, dislodging a stray feather that had become entangled in its braids. 'They know I'm coming for them,' she said, her voice tight. 'They always seem to.'

Alyn nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. 'King's Landing sends more than its fair share of worries north,' he said, gesturing to the table in the centre of the room. It was an imposing piece, carved from ancient oak, the surface groaning under the weight of a mountain of sealed parchments. Y/n sighed, letting the weight of the responsibility settle upon her shoulders. Every one of those scrolls contained a new burden, a new demand, a new headache she would have to unravel. The North had always been harsh, a land of unforgiving winters and fiercer people.

'What's the news, maester?' she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alyn shuffled through the pile of scrolls, his gaze searching for a particular one. “They're now threatening us with dragon fire, my lady,” he stated solemnly, the chain around his neck clinking softly.

Y/n's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the pile of letters that lay on the table before her. Her jaw clenched, her anger rising like a tide. “Burn them,” she commanded, her voice sharp and decisive. “Burn all the letters. We will not answer, nor will we cower.”

Alyn's eyebrows rose in surprise, but Y/n's resolve only grew stronger. “Prince Jacaerys should be here any day. We will make good with the Blacks.”

Maester Alyn leaned back in his chair, studying her face. 'Are you certain, my lady? This is a dangerous game we play. The Green's dragons—"

“Are no more fearsome than the winter that forged us,” Y/n cut him off. She moved to the window, gazing out over the frost-covered courtyard. “My brother may be in the north of the Wall, but we will not be cowed by southern threats.”

Her words echoed through the frigid halls, carrying with them a resolute determination that belied her youth. “You are right, my lady,” he said at last.

Y/n turned to him, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Maester Alyn. Please, have the letters burned. We must prepare for the prince's arrival. We’ll show him true Northern hospitality. And maester," she added, a hint of a smile playing at her lips, "make sure we have plenty of that strong northern ale. We'll need it for the toast when we pledge our support to Queen Rhaenyra."

Maester Alyn nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reached for the candle on his desk, ready to carry out her orders. "As you wish, my lady. there's one more," he said softly, holding out a sealed parchment. "It arrived separately... and it's addressed to you personally."

Y/n hesitated, then took the letter. The seal bore the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, but something about it seemed different. More... personal. With a swift motion, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the contents, and her face hardened.

"It's from Aegon," she said, her voice tight. She began to read aloud:

"My dearest y/n,

The silence between us cuts like shards of Valyrian steel, slicing through my soul. Do you remember the stolen moments in the godswood, under the watchful eyes of the old gods? The promises we made beneath the heart tree?I await your reply to our ravens with bated breath, much as I once awaited your stolen glances across the great hall.

But make no mistake, my white wolf. Your beauty will not shield the North from my wrath should you choose wrongly. Aemond grows impatient and Vhagar hungers for blood. With one word, we could reduce Winterfell to nothing but ash and bone.

Remember this, my sweetling: fire destroys ice. And dragons do not forgive.

Choose wisely. Choose me.

Yours in fire and blood, Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm"

y/n’s hand shook as she finished reading, her knuckles white where she gripped the parchment. The maester watched her, concern etched on his weathered face.

"My lady," he began cautiously, "what—"

"Burn it," Y/n interrupted, her voice cold as the Wall itself. "Burn it with the rest." She tossed the letter onto the pile, her eyes blazing with a fury to match any dragon's flame.

…

Amidst the icy grip of the winter, the last traces of sunlight had long since disappeared beyond the horizon when a thunderous beating of dragon wings shattered the bleak silence. Y/n stood in Winterfell's snowy courtyard, her chilled breath leaving clouds in the frigid air as she looked up to witness the dark shape descending from the sky.

With ethereal grace surprising for its size, the dragon landed with a resounding thud and steam rising from its scales as they met the frosty ground. As its rider dismounted, y/n found herself frozen in place, her carefully prepared greeting dying on her lips.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon strode towards her, his Valyrian features softened by Stark coloring. Dark curls framed his face, windswept from the flight. But it was his eyes that caught y/n off guard - soft and kind, yet holding a depth that spoke of burdens she had yet to find out.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away. Y/n's heart raced as she stood before the prince, a stranger yet somehow familiar. She couldn't explain the sudden pull she felt towards him, as if they shared a connection beyond words. But at the same time, fear and doubt crept in, questioning if this was all just a dream or a cruel trick of fate.

Jacaerys approached, his movements as graceful as the dragon he rode. His brow furrowed slightly at her silence. He glanced around, perhaps wondering if he'd made some misstep. Finally, he bowed low, breaking the spell. "Lady Stark," he said, his voice a low, warm timbre that sent a shiver down her spine. " I am honored to meet you. And I thank you for your hospitality."

Y/n blinked, suddenly aware of the eyes of the entire courtyard upon them. She straightened, pulling her mask of cool composure back into place. "Prince Jacaerys," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Winterfell welcomes you. Please, come inside where it's warm. We have much to discuss."

As she turned to lead him into the castle, Y/n caught the prince studying her with curiosity. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging look of her own. Whatever this feeling was, she couldn't afford to let it distract her. The fate of the North hung in the balance.

Yet as they walked, she couldn't help but be acutely aware of his presence just behind her, like the warmth of a flame at her back in the cold northern night.

…

The Brown Room lived up to its name, with rich walnut paneling and fur-draped chairs that spoke of comfort in the face of long northern nights. Y/N led Jacaerys inside, the scent of beeswax candles and old parchment greeting them. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cluttered table where ledgers and letters vied for space.

Y/N gestured to a high-backed chair. "Please, sit," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She reached for a decanter, the crystal cool against her fingers. "Would you care for some wine, my Lord? It's a Dornish red – my favorite one."

Jacaerys settled into the chair, his eyes roaming the room before settling on Y/N. "Thank you, my lady. And please, call me Jace."

As she poured, a drop of wine escaped, staining the cuff of her sleeve crimson. Y/N barely noticed, too aware of Jace's proximity, the warmth radiating from him in the cool room.

"What did you wish to discuss, my lady?" Jace broached softly, accepting the goblet with a nod of thanks.

Suddenly, the room felt stifling. Y/N's heavy fur cloak, a necessity in Winterfell's drafty halls, now seemed unbearable. She shed it, draping it over the tall oak chair behind her. The firelight caught the silver direwolf clasp as it settled.

"Our support," Y/N replied, forcing herself to meet Jace's gaze. His eyes, she noticed, were flecked with gold in the candlelight. She swallowed hard and continued, "We have two thousand men. Strong northern fighters. We call them Winter Wolves."

Jace leaned forward, interest piqued. "Winter Wolves? An apt name, I'd wager."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "Indeed. They're as fierce as their namesake and twice as loyal." She moved to the table, rifling through the papers until she found a particular map. As she spread it out, the familiar scent of ink and parchment helped ground her.

"Here," she pointed, "is where we've gathered them. They await only my brother's word - or mine, in his absence."

Jace stood, moving to study the map. His arm brushed Y/N's as he leaned in, and she caught a whiff of leather and something else - perhaps the lingering scent of dragon scales. Jacaerys studied the map closely, tracing his fingers over the different markings and symbols. He was impressed by the precision and detail of the Winter Wolves' gathering points.

"Your brother must be a formidable leader to have gathered such a force in such a short time," Jace remarked, straightening up and turning to face Y/N.

"Yes, he is," Y/N said with pride.

"This is... more than we dared hope for," Jace admitted, his voice low and warm.

Outside, a wolf howled in the distance, a lonely sound that seemed to echo Y/N's inner turmoil. She squared her shoulders, pushing away the unwelcome feelings. Jace's brow furrowed as he studied Y/N's face. "My lady, are you well? You seem... flushed."

Y/N startled, realizing she'd been staring. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, painfully aware of the dampness at her temples. "I'm fine, my- Jace," she corrected herself. "I was... under the weather a few days ago. Nothing serious."

Jace's eyes softened with concern. Jace's hand hovers near Y/N's elbow, his fingers poised as if ready to reach out and catch her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and she can sense the electricity between them, even though he's not quite touching her. "Perhaps you should sit. We needn't discuss everything tonight."

The gentleness in his voice made Y/N's heart flutter. She sank into a nearby chair, Jace following suit. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, giving her his full attention. His eyes were pools of liquid silver, soft and caring as they searched Y/N's face.

"Tell me," he said softly, "how are you truly faring? It can't be easy, managing the North in your brother's absence."

Y/N's carefully constructed walls began to crumble under his earnest gaze. "It's... challenging," she admitted. "Especially with the constant stream of demands from King's Landing."

Jace's expression darkened. "Ah, yes. I've heard whispers of Aegon's... correspondence."

Y/N couldn't hide the flash of frustration that crossed her face. "Correspondence," she scoffed. "Threats, more like. Your cousin seems to think he can bully the North into submission."

"My cousin," Jace said, his voice low and intense, "forgets that winter roses have thorns." He reached out, this time taking Y/N's hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through her. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "You needn't face this alone, my lady."

Y/N found herself lost in his eyes, warm and sincere. "I... thank you, Jace," she murmured.

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. Jace glanced at the flames, then back to Y/N, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. "You know, where I come from, they say the dragonfires pale in comparison to the warmth of a northern welcome."

Despite herself, Y/N laughed. "Is that so? And how does our hospitality measure up?"

Jace's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, his touch feather-light. "Oh, it exceeds all expectations, my lady. Though I must confess, I find myself most warmed by present company."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn, but for once, she didn't mind the heat. A small smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips as she gazed into his captivating eyes. "You're quite the charmer, Prince Jacaerys."

"Only when properly inspired," is all he replied.

…

The pale light of dawn crept over Winterfell's stone walls, casting long shadows across the frosted courtyard. Y/N stood in the stables, her breath visible in the crisp morning air.

Her fingers, slightly numb from the cold, worked methodically on the leather straps of her horse's saddle. The familiar motions were soothing - tighten, adjust, check, repeat. The rich scent of hay and horse sweat mingled with the earthy aroma of leather oil.

As she worked, Y/N caught herself glancing repeatedly towards the castle, anticipation building in her chest.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her heart quicken. Jace appeared in the stable doorway, silhouetted against the brightening sky. He stifled a yawn, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Y/N noticed the slight disarray of his dark curls and felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to smooth them.

"My lady," Jace greeted, his voice husky with sleep. He cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile. "You're up early."

Y/N felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "The North waits for no one, Your Grace," she replied, handing him a set of reins. Their fingers brushed, and Y/N pretended not to notice the warmth that spread from the point of contact. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

As they set out, the rhythmic clop of hooves against cobblestone gave way to the muffled thud of earth. The misty woods enveloped them, tendrils of fog curling around the horses' legs. Droplets of dew clung to Y/N's eyelashes, refracting the weak sunlight into tiny prisms.

Y/N led the way, her posture relaxed and confident in the saddle. She navigated the invisible path with ease, ducking low-hanging branches and steering around hidden roots. Behind her, she could hear Jace's horse snorting softly, its rider muttering gentle reassurances.

"I can hardly see the path," Jace called out, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Y/N twisted in her saddle, catching Jace's eye with a mischievous glint in her own. "That's because there isn't one," she replied, allowing a rare, playful smile to cross her features.

The forest was a symphony of morning sounds. Birds trilled their dawn chorus, their songs echoing through the mist-shrouded trees. Small creatures rustled in the underbrush, sending leaves skittering across the forest floor. The earthy scent of damp soil and pine needles filled the air, punctuated by the occasional whiff of wild mint when Y/N's horse trampled a hidden patch.

Hours seemed to pass as they wound their way through the increasingly dense forest. Y/N found herself hyper-aware of Jace's presence behind her. She could feel his eyes on her back, and fought the urge to glance over her shoulder more often than necessary.

Finally, they came upon a rocky outcropping. Y/N dismounted with practiced grace, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. She patted her horse's flank, murmuring soft words of thanks. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jace dismount, noting the slight stiffness in his movements after the long ride.

Jace stretched, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. His brow furrowed as he surveyed their surroundings. "My lady," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "I hate to question your expertise, but this looks suspiciously like a dead end."

Y/N's laugh echoed off the rocks, startling a nearby bird into flight. "Patience, Your Grace," she said, her eyes twinkling with secret knowledge. "The best treasures are often hidden."

She reached out, taking Jace's hand in hers. His palm was warm against her cool fingers, and she felt a flutter in her stomach at the contact. Pushing the feeling aside, she led him towards what appeared to be a solid rock face.

As they drew closer, a narrow opening revealed itself, barely visible unless one knew exactly where to look. Y/N squeezed through first, tugging Jace along behind her. The passage was tight, the rough stone scraping against their shoulders. Cool, damp air enveloped them, carrying the faint mineral scent of underground water.

Jace's breath was warm on the back of Y/N's neck as they inched forward in the dim light. She was acutely aware of his presence, of the way his chest occasionally brushed against her back in the narrow confines.

Suddenly, the passage opened up. Y/N stepped aside, allowing Jace to fully enter the cavern. She watched his face intently, savoring the moment his eyes widened in awe.

Sunlight streamed through an opening high above, illuminating a spectacular waterfall. The water, tinted an ethereal light blue by minerals in the rock, cascaded down in a thunderous rush before crashing into a pool below. Mist rose from the impact, creating tiny rainbows where the light hit just right.

"By the gods," Jace breathed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the falls. He turned to Y/N, wonder written across his features. "It's incredible."

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his reaction. "Welcome to my secret place," she said softly, suddenly feeling shy. "Not even Cregan knows about this."

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her, something unspoken passing between them. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he said, his voice low and sincere.

They settled on a smooth rock near the pool's edge, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The mist from the falls cooled their skin, a welcome relief after the long ride. Y/N pulled out a small bundle from her saddlebag - bread, cheese, and a flask of sweet northern ale.

The conversation lulled, replaced by the constant rush of the waterfall. Y/N traced patterns in the damp sand with a stick, her eyes distant. Jace watched her, noting the slight furrow in her brow.

"A copper for your thoughts, my lady?" he asked softly.

Y/N looked up, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Just thinking about duties," she said. "They never seem to end, do they?"

Jace nodded, understanding in his eyes. "The burden of our birthrights," he agreed. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be free of them."

"Free," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the mist between them. She sighed, tossing the stick into the pool. "Cregan writes often of my duties. He's pressuring me more and more to find a husband."

Jace's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I... I apologize if I'm intruding, but may I ask why you haven't? Surely you've had no shortage of suitors."

Y/N met his gaze, finding unexpected comfort in the warmth she saw there. "Because I want love," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want a simple life, filled with moments like this." She gestured to the cavern around them. "But how can I promise forever to someone when tomorrow is so uncertain? How can I build a life amidst a war?"

Jace was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "Love in wartime," he mused. "It's not an easy path, but perhaps... perhaps it's the very thing that makes the fight worthwhile."

Y/N felt her heart quicken at his words. "And what of you, Prince Jacaerys? What does your heart seek in these troubled times?"

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her. "I seek a partner," he said quietly. "Someone to stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who understands duty but hasn't lost sight of dreams." He paused, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Someone who knows the value of secret waterfalls and stolen moments."

The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken possibility. Y/N felt drawn to him, like a moth to flame, but held herself back. This was not the time, not with so much at stake.

"It seems we both seek something rare and precious," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Jace nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Perhaps the gods will be kind," he murmured.

…

The iron-bound gates of Winterfell groaned open, admitting Y/N and Jace as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke, punctuated by the sharp tang of approaching frost. Their horses' hooves clattered against the worn cobblestones, the sound echoing off the ancient stone walls.

As they dismounted, Y/N felt the day's exertion in her muscles, a pleasant ache that spoke of adventure and freedom. She caught Jace's eye, noticing how the fading light caught the silver threads in his jerkin, making them shimmer like starlight.

"Jace," she began, her voice low and tinged with an emotion she dared not name, "today was—"

"Lady Y/N! Lady Y/N!" The frantic shout shattered the moment like a stone through ice.

Y/N's transformation was instantaneous and mesmerizing. Her shoulders squared, chin lifting as if an invisible crown had settled upon her brow. The softness in her eyes hardened to flint, sharp enough to cut.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice crisp as a midwinter morning.

The guard skidded to a halt before them, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "My lady, there's been... an incident. You're needed urgently."

Y/N nodded curtly. "Lead on," she commanded, then turned to Jace. "Your Grace, I must attend to this. Perhaps we could speak later..."

Jace stepped forward, close enough that Y/N could smell the leather of his riding gloves and a hint of something spicy—cloves, perhaps. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to accompany you.”

Y/N hesitated, then inclined her head in agreement. They followed the guard, their footsteps echoing through Winterfell's torch-lit corridors. The warmth of the castle was a stark contrast to the chill outside, yet Y/N felt a different kind of coldness settling in her bones.

They entered a small, dim room that reeked of fear and desperation. A man knelt on the floor, the rattle of his chains a counterpoint to his broken sobs. In the flickering torchlight, his tear-stained face looked ghastly, almost skull-like.

"What has he done?" Y/N's voice cut through the room like a blade.

The man looked up, his eyes wide and pleading. Y/N's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a blade, her words sharp and filled with accusation. The man shrunk back in his seat, his eyes wide and pleading as he desperately tried to defend himself.

"My lady," he stammered, "I beg you... I was only going to King's Landing, to pledge myself to King Aegon, my children. Is that such a crime?" His voice trembled with fear and uncertainty, his hands shaking as he awaited her judgement.

Y/N's gaze bore into him, seeking any sign of deceit or treachery. Observation seemed to be her weapon of choice, and she wielded it with expert precision. Y/N's lips thinned. "If you wished to leave, you could have done so freely. We do not hold men against their will in the North. Or have you forgotten our ways so quickly?"

The guard cleared his throat, the sound like gravel underfoot. "There's more, my lady. He attempted to steal half the winter rations and one of our best horses. Caught him in the act, we did."

The man's sobs crescendoed. "You can't behead an innocent man!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "You and Lord Cregan, you'll be the death of House Stark! The North will remember this betrayal!"

Y/N stood motionless, but Jace saw the almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw, the slight tremor in her clenched fists. The room fell silent save for the man's ragged breathing and the soft hiss of the torches.

Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to keep her composure. Jace watched as Y/N stood motionless, her face a mask of stoic determination, but he could see the anger burning in her gaze.

"Send him to the Wall," Jace suggested, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through Y/N's chest. "It's a harsh sentence, yes, but one that allows him to redeem himself in service to the realm."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes unreadable in the dim light. "Or I could let him go," she mused, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then, what message would that send? That theft and betrayal go unpunished in the North?"

"Take his fingers, my lady," the guard interjected. "It's an old punishment, aye, but effective. He'd bear the mark of his crime, but keep his life and limbs... most of them, at least."

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, and in that moment, Jace saw the weight of the North resting on her shoulders. When she opened them again, they gleamed with resolve.

"You've given me much to consider," she said, her voice steady as the foundations of Winterfell itself. "I'll not make this decision in haste. Guard, take him to the cells. See that he's fed and given water. I'll pass judgment when the sun rises."

As the guard led the prisoner away, his pleas fading down the corridor, Y/N turned to Jace. The torchlight cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp planes of her cheekbones and the weariness in her eyes.

Jace moved towards Y/N, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, a welcome warmth against the coldness that had nestled in her chest. He spoke gently, never breaking eye contact with her. "You carry your burden with grace, my lady," he murmured, his voice deep and soothing.

Y/N held his gaze for a moment, allowing herself to bask in the comfort of his words. But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. She took a step back, "Grace," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Grace is a luxury, Your Grace. In the North, we survive on harsher virtues."

Her eyes, once warm and inviting, now held a wintry gleam. The soft curves of her face seemed to harden, as if the very stone of Winterfell was seeping into her bones. With those words, Y/N turned away, her cloak swirling around her like a shroud. As she walked deeper into the shadows of Winterfell's halls, Jace was left with the unsettling feeling that he'd glimpsed not just the Lady of Winterfell, but a portent of the harsh days to come.

The torches guttered in a sudden draft, and for a moment, the corridor was plunged into darkness. When the light returned, Y/N was gone, leaving behind only the echo of her words and the lingering chill of premonition.

...

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tinytennisskirt · 28 days

Note

You and Patrick leave the restaurant on your one month anniversary. You’re both standing outside his car, he says he loves you for the first time. You try to distract him with a bunch of kisses and what not but he notices and questions it. Why didn’t you say it back? He’s all like what are you doing? Do you love him back? or Is it just too early to tell? But you’ve already been dating for a month! You didn’t say it back.

Those Three Words

Summary: as above^ When patrick meets the pretty bartender, his bachelor days are over. reader and patrick quickly become friends, good friends. and after a tipsy confession and a perfect kiss, they start dating. it's new, it's weird, but it's so easy to be in love with you. not as easy to tell you, though. (it turns out more than okay, i promise)

warnings: mentions of drinking. kissing. mentions of sex. angst... hurt/comfort silliness. player pat! turned loverboy! such a good moment for him. also i changed one month to two, i hope you don't mind!

It was different with you. Patrick knew that. You were the girl who put the habits of a casual man to rest. You came into his life, or rather he came into yours ordering a Redbull and two shots of Jaeger from the bar you were working and you looked at him a little oddly, with a cute smile questioning why he didn’t just order a Jaeger bomb. He was out with Art, but his attention stayed on you for the rest of the night. He drank way too much, returning to the bar and asking you for drinks just as an excuse to talk to you more. He emptied his wallet.

Art had to drag him out and into a taxi, practically shoving him in while he talked about you like a wasted white girl. He woke up the next morning with a killer headache and surprisingly, most of his memories of you, though they were a little altered by the alcohol. He called Art, asking him about the night only to be filled in that he spent it flirting with you. So he was fucked, he deducted. No chance.

But a few nights later he and Art went back and surprise, you were working again. Patrick usually had it in his head that going out and drinking at bars was for finding women to go home with, but his eyes fell on you and he knew he had to say something. So he walked up the bar, eyeing you in your black t-shirt with a neckline that dipped enough for cleavage paired with your little black skirt. “You again,” you smiled, seeing him approach. Oh fuck, you were as pretty as he remembered. “Glad to see you alive and well.”

He grinned, sitting at the bar, hands folding in front of him. “Thanks.” He smirked a little.

“What can I get you?” You grinned. He ordered two drinks and to Art’s annoyance, struck up a conversation with you. You were funny and you were interesting and probably one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever spoken to. He tried not to overdrink again just to speak to you, but after helping every customer, you’d come back on your own. Patrick didn’t know what exactly it was about you because no matter the fact his eyes fell on your chest every now and then, he was genuinely hearing what you were saying about Depeche Mode. He just leaned toward you as you spoke and listened.

Art came up behind him later that night saying he was heading out and begrudgingly, Patrick went with him. You passed him the bill and he opened it to a napkin with your number. A win. A big win. He looked up and you were helping another customer, too busy to say anything to you about it. But he paid in cash and left a $30 tip on top of it. And he left a happy and tipsy man.

He waited until morning to text you.

'Hey. Patrick from the bar. How r u?’

You got back to him surprisingly quickly, 'Hungryyyy. You?' You were a perfect woman. He was a simple man.

‘About the same.’

You messaged back again, ‘Breakfast???’ followed by ‘You know the cafe off main? I’ll be there in 15’. You were asking him out? Or… to breakfast? Fuck, either way, he’d take it. He messaged back, said he’d be there, and bolted out of bed and into the shower. He let his hair air dry and slipped on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt for the chilliness of the morning and soon he was on the street walking there, trying to be on time. He met you on the corner. You knew it was bad when he met a girl and liked her when she was half-dressed only to look at her fully clothed and could say to himself he liked her more. That was you in your sweater and jeans, hair down, comfy and honestly kind of cute. At the bar you were hot, but here you were cute.

“Good morning,” you smiled at him. What was ‘other women’? What did those words even mean? “You bounce back so well after a night of drinking there’s no way I’d be out of bed at nine in the morning after so many shots.” You smiled. “Hi, Patrick.”

“Good morning,” he replied, hands in his pockets. “And hi,” He smirked a little as you lead him into the cafe wordlessly. You ordered a croissant and iced coffee and lead him to sit down with you. “So, you’re an early riser?”

“Sometimes. If I’m honest I wouldn’t be up this early, but my landlord is doing construction and it’s hectic and loud. I’m lucky if I sleep at all, it’s all hours.” You spoke to him like you’d known him forever. It was cute. You told him all about your apartment situation, how you’re pretty sure your landlord pervs on you and he just sat and listened, happily drinking his Americano.

And it started from there, the slow burn. You hadn’t said anything inherently romantic, but he was content with being your friend if it meant he got to be around you. You’d text a lot, becoming fast friends with similar tastes in music and movies. You were spontaneous and sometimes a little loud, but he really liked that about you. You’d hang out frequently, sometimes multiple days in a row. Sometimes his place and sometimes yours. You liked candy and going to thrift stores and you had a record collection. You’d give him free shots at the bar when you had shifts. He’d show up. Soon you were close to calling him your best friend and it was dawning on Patrick that when women hit on him, he was rejecting them. Supermodel-type women were coming up to him, flirting, and he was shutting them down. He knew he liked you and he knew it was different. It felt like having a crush, something he hadn’t felt since he was back at MRTA, a kid.

You ruffled his hair and his ears would go a little pink. He’d flirt with you just the same and sometimes you’d flirt back in good fun, but oh my god, he was head over heels for you. Only you. One singular woman who he had not slept with. He was devoted and completely in it. It was so out of character for him.

“She’s it,” he said to Art as he paced the living room, energy drink in hand. “She’s got me tangled in her web, there’s no out and for the first time in my life I don’t want one.”

Art watched his best friend, his eyebrows raised, decently pleased. “Should get your head checked.”

“I’m dead serious. I think about her when she’s not around, that’s some sort of sign.” Art did all he could not to laugh at the very normal things Patrick was talking about. “She says things and I remember them. For more than ten minutes.”

“Quick, what’s her name?”

“Okay, shut the fuck up, you’re no help,” Patrick groaned, flopping back into the armchair behind him. His finger spun the rim of the can he held. The expression on his face could only be described as a mixture of defeat and being plain old grumpy. He was grumpy over you. “I think I like her.”

Art grinned at Patrick’s confession, knowing the last time he heard Patrick say he liked anyone was back in ninth grade. “So tell her.”

“I might.” Patrick nodded. As different as things were with you, he would rather tell you than not. He didn’t like the idea that he had genuine feelings, but you were you, so it was fitting. And he had already made plans with you to meet up at a different bar later that night. One with more of a club-like vibe. So he figured it was as good a time as any to tell you- he wasn’t really well-versed in genuine feelings so maybe it wasn’t the best, but he had to tell you somehow.

He picked you up in his car, Art in the back seat. You and Art had been acquainted through Patrick, obviously, and you smiled, greeting them both. Patrick’s eyes fell on the length of your skirt, short. Your thighs were on full display, legs extending into tall boots that matched the colour of your t-shirt. You were hot, it was becoming a problem.

“How the fuck do I say anything when fifteen guys are hitting on her at once?” Patrick said to Art over the music. Art grabbed Patrick’s upper arm, chuckling.

He was a little out of it, buzzed off nicotine. “Kiss her.” He shrugged.

“I’m not kissing her,” Patrick replied. “I have to ask first.”

Art wasn’t so sure about Patrick’s genuine feelings but Patrick, two shots in, was saying he had to ask? Instead of just hitting on a girl and leaning in? Art believed him entirely now. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

“You’re good with girls!”

“So are you!”

“Other girls!” Patrick reasoned. “Ones that will go home with me if I buy them a drink. Not her. How the fuck am I supposed to do this? I just say it? How do you do this with every girl you like? It’s all this? All the time?” He was wigging out a little. It was something new for sure. He wasn’t used to any of this. You’d been friends for six months and you were over on the dancefloor, just a little tipsy, swaying, somewhat ignoring the men who were trying to talk to you, trying to dance with you. He figured there was nothing he could do but accept the fact he was twenty-something with full-on butterflies in his stomach. Art just chuckled and walked away to get Patrick another drink in case things went wrong.

He thought telling you would be easy, but every time he started toward you, he couldn’t follow through. He’d start overthinking his wording. He’d get interrupted by some other girl who he all but told to fuck off. He was stressing badly. And a new feeling crept up watching these guys come up to you in your short skirt and your low-cut t-shirt. It was something he also hadn’t felt in ages and it was just… jealousy. He was jealous, he was sick and completely riddled with it. A couple of guys who came and went grabbed your hips or your waist and his stomach did a genuine flip before the slight anger kicked in. He just stood, bitter, watching, unable to move. Moving meant telling you. Staying still meant you were free to be touched by other guys and this wasn’t easy at all.

You walked over, standing in front of him, a little displeased, “You asked me to come out and you’re standing there, glaring at me.” You sighed, arms folded over your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, eyes elsewhere. And he only looked back at you when you started laughing. It was a pretty laugh that he often replayed in his head.

“Oh my god, you’re jealous!” You teased.

He got defensive, “Of what? Of who?”

“I don’t know, of the guys out there? You’re jealous they get to dance with me.”

“Why the fuck would I be jealous of them?” He chuckled, leaning back against the bar. “It’s not like it’s a rarity. You dance with everyone.”

“I think you really secretly want to dance with me,” you nodded, narrowing your eyes at him. You even went so far as to point a finger. Patrick just rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so jealous, you can’t even deny it anymore. C’mon gorgeous, we are dancing.” Your hand slipped into his as you pulled him into the crowd. For a guy that could pull any woman with just a simple lean toward them, he was more than surprised by the stunt you were pulling in pulling him closer. It was a little shameless, the way you were close to him. Closer than you’d danced with any of the previous guys- you’d been dodging them, no matter how much they got to touch without asking.

You made him a stiff. He’d be into it if it meant nothing, but it didn’t and it couldn’t. But that didn’t stop you. It couldn’t. You grinned at his closeness and frankly, he was a little flustered. Out of his character, so fucking far out of it. But he could get into it when you reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, dancing much too closely for it to be nothing. It was like slow motion, something out of a movie, the pink and purple lights cascading over your body pressed to his. The bass of the song moving through his body, hands on your waist, kept there without being shoved off by you. Welcomed, really. You were so close he could have kissed you, but something in him told him not to. Not like this. Not here. Art was over at the bar, snapping a few pictures on his phone, laughing to himself as he shoved it into his pocket.

Patrick, completely consumed by the way you were looking at him, felt surprisingly cold when you spun out of his grasp, grinning. He let his hands fall, just a little dumbstruck by what the fuck that just was. It was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. You during the day was so different from you in night-life. You were mesmerizing, easy to watch as you spun back to him. “Feeling better?” You grinned. And you left him, going back to dancing alone. Patrick, god of arrogance and quips, was left speechless.

He walked back over to Art, mouth a little open. “What the fuck.”

“You tell her?”

“No,” Patrick was almost bitter in rebuttal. He sank into the bar stool and ordered another drink.

“I think she knows,” he grinned over at Patrick who downed the drink in one fell gulp.

“You think?” He paused for a moment and exhaled. “Fuck.”

The night died down. You were hungry and Art was pretty done with the place. Patrick carried your boots as you walked barefoot down the sidewalk back to the car, fries from the chip truck in hand. Patrick paid. He didn’t mind. You shared with both boys and Art drove back to Patrick’s apartment. He was going to crash at his, sleep in the living room. So were you, apparently. The three of you took the elevator up. Art said goodnight, jumping over the back of the couch and onto it. It was pretty much enough to ban you both to Patrick’s room.

Patrick dropped your boots by the door and went to his room as you finished your fries and went to go brush your teeth. He went through his clothes, grabbing you some loose t-shirt and shorts he knew wouldn’t be too big on you. He dropped them to you in the bathroom wordlessly and went to go sit on his bed with some water, trying to level out.

You emerged a few minutes later in his clothes, your skirt and t-shirt in a ball in your hand, tossed by your boots. “Thank you,” you smiled, sitting on the bed with him. “So, how are you feeling?” You asked, stealing a sip of his water.

“Decent,” he replied. “Didn’t drink enough, apparently.”

“Apparently not,” you smiled, handing the water back. He finished it and tossed the solo cup he’d used into the trash next to his bed. “So are we going to talk about it, or are we just going to bed?”

Patrick didn’t see that coming. He straightened out, his heart picking up just a little. “Hm?”

“Patrick…” you trailed off, leaning just a little bit forward. “You like me, hm?”

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say no, but not confessing felt wrong. “Yeah, I like you. We’re friends.”

“Ooh, ouch,” you smiled. It was probably the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen. “Friendzoned.”

Patrick smirked a little, “You’re still drunk.”

“Tipsy, baby. Tipsy.” You nodded. His eyes fell on your lips and the way his shirt slipped off your shoulder. “But you know what I mean, Pat. I think, and I have reason to believe you like me. Tell me I’m wrong?”

He chuckled to himself, looking at his hands, the door, you. He tsked, shaking his head. “I can’t.” He admitted. He said it. You had defeated the player in him.

“Thought so.” Your smile was a little bit evil. “So if I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

His smirk grew just a little bit bigger and he moved just a little bit closer to you and you moved just a little bit closer to him. The tension was thick. You watched his eyes meet yours, then your lips, back to your eyes. “Not sure. Just have to find out, I guess.”

“I guess,” you grinned, leaning in the rest of the way, meeting him in the middle. The quiet of his room was quieter and the kiss was slow and passionate. Patrick’s hand on the back of your neck, yours resting on his chest. He kissed you with no intention of anything more or anything less. He even kissed you without tongue- for the first few minutes, after that he figured it was game when you were both lying on your side, just kissing. It was perfect and it was the least hungry kiss he’d possibly ever had.

It was a good fifteen minutes of slow, yet passionate kisses and it tapered off with small kisses, something Patrick had never experienced before. You kissed him a few last times, short and sweet and it was possibly his favourite part of the whole thing. Next to the fact he kissed the pretty bartender he’d had feelings for since the night he met her. You held his face after, he was just a little breathless despite the calm of the kissing.

“Patrick.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled.

“I think I caught that,” he grinned like an asshole. You’d never been more into him. You gently tapped his arm. All of this, the talking, the everything, was new. And perfect. “How long is ‘a while’?” You hit him a little harder and he just kept grinning. The words he said were so foreign. “I like you too.” You smiled wide, looking quite proud of yourself. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you said. And you went back to kissing.

Patrick had no problem with saying you were his girlfriend. You’d decided that’s who you were when Patrick later found that you’d changed your name in his contacts to it. He told Art everything, talking about how he’d been missing out this entire time on kissing without sex. The feeling was new and exciting and Art clapped him on the back, trying not to laugh too much at the fact Patrick was a little crazy. But the craze died down.

Seeing you, kissing you, came so naturally to him it stopped being something of wonder, though he never really felt different about it. You were his first serious girlfriend in years. He was a pretty good boyfriend too. He was over all the time still, with the addition of being able to call you beautiful whenever he wanted to. He took a lot of pleasure in telling guys at the bar to fuck off when they tried to buy you drinks. He was a little possessive but in the hot way, not the controlling gross way. He liked that you wore short skirts when you went out, guys could look, they could try, but it was him who fucked you in the car before heading back home.

The sex was beyond good. Crazy good. But never the main focus. Patrick took a crazy liking to the fact you kissed his forehead and it was possibly the best feeling in the world when you fell asleep with your head on his chest. He was so serious about you. And he was more than head over heels for you.

It progressed pretty quickly due to the fact both you and Patrick had feelings for each other for a good while before properly dating. Look at Patrick, he was into you from the very day he met you.

“I think I’m going to order chinese,” you said from the kitchen. Patrick swung around the corner as you picked up the phone, looking over the menu. “The regular?” He nodded, enjoying his semi-domestic privileges, seeing you without makeup in his kitchen in his clothes. You hopped up on the counter and dialed the number as Patrick came to stand in front of you, hands resting on your hips. “Hi, I’d like to place an order for del-” Patrick, cheeky, kissed your neck, “- delivery.” You giggled a little nervously. You were so cute up on his counter he couldn’t not. “I’d like the four-piece…” You really tried getting through the order, pausing your order to kiss him quickly twice, trying to get him off you, but it didn’t quite work. “I’m sorry,” you said to the man on the other end of the line. “I want-” You couldn’t escape his kisses to your jaw. “Sorry-” You hung up the phone and Patrick picked you up off the counter and you hit the bed just moments later.

You had turned him into someone he didn’t know he could be. And it didn’t feel like he wasn’t himself. In fucking you, he had words at the tip of his tongue to melt into his string of praise for you, your body, the way you felt and those words were, ‘i love you’.

You were breathing hard, your head resting on his chest. “Couldn’t even let me order? I’m so hungry.” You sighed happily. Patrick was staring at the ceiling wondering how the fuck he loved you. That was a strong word. He’d only dated you for nearly two months. Your hand gently caressed his chest, his stomach, tracing patterns. No way he was in love with you so early on. But in reality, it wasn’t that early. He’d known you for eight months, liked you and only you for all of it, it made sense but the way it snuck up on him was crazy. So crazy he didn’t even tell Art about it. He just internalized it.

When two months rolled around, he scraped together a little more money than he really had on his budget and surprised you by taking you somewhere nice. It wasn’t a big anniversary, but for him, it was an achievement. Even Art was surprised, respectfully, that he’d made it so far.

“So the retrograde is one of the most dangerous times in a year because no matter who you are or what you’re doing, something is bound to change for you and it’s usually something drastic.” You said, eating your food. He was thinking one thing and those three words just echoed around his head. “Patrick?”

“Exes come back, no travel,” he nodded, showing you he was listening. You smiled and he was only thinking about how perfect you were.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, stealing a fry off of his plate. Of course, at a nice place like this, Patrick still ordered a burger. “You’re all quiet. Not that I mind it.” You giggled just a little. He had the cutest girlfriend, he knew that. He had the cutest girlfriend and he was in love with her. You.

“I’ve never had a two-month anniversary before.” He admit, his elbows on the table. Your eyes widened just a little. He smirked just a bit. “No mocking.”

“Me? I would never,” you said, shooting him a sly grin. You let the slyness dissipate, eyes growing sweet and genuine. “I’m glad it's us.”

“Me too.” He nodded. For the first time in his life, he was sure of something and it was you. You were here with him and it was all still new, but god, it was great. He had a perfect, funny, sexy, gorgeous, and smart girlfriend and he didn’t even have to travel to a parallel universe to master commitment. Patrick being Patrick wouldn’t get too mushy on you, wouldn’t tell you that he found it a little surreal to be across from you in your black velvet dress. Across from a girl who he never really thought he would have or sleep next to. This girl who is literally always there, no matter what or which home he goes back to at the end of the day. You were his best friend. But he wouldn’t say any of that shit. The difference was that he felt it, not that he turned into a sap.

He was feeling a lot. He gladly paid for dinner. “Thank you. It was really really sweet for you to do this.” You said, slipping your hand into his. Your hand was smaller than his was and you were somehow always just a little bit colder than he was. The two of you headed out into the parking lot, where you leaned against his car, still holding his hand, even when he pulled out a cigarette. You were so gorgeous bathed in the neon purple of the restaurant sign. The bustle of busy streets nearby was white noise. He let you have the first drag, he always did. Your fingers stayed intertwined with his and you looked at him in a way he really hadn’t ever been looked at. He couldn’t believe he’d never committed to a girl when he looked at how things were with you. You were perfect, entirely, head to toe and inside and out. He couldn’t believe how much time he’d wasted meaninglessly when looking at one person just felt so right.

You blew the smoke in his face, a running joke about the first time you’d smoked together and he did it to you. You never let it go. Eternal payback, you called it. You giggled as he raised his eyebrows at you, taking the cigarette as you passed it to him. The silence, or near-silence was comfortable. It wasn’t traced with lust, it wasn’t dripping in alcohol, it couldn’t ever mean nothing, It couldn’t ever be nothing, even while being silence. “You’re pretty,” Patrick said unprovoked, inhaling and turning his head to blow the smoke into the breeze. It wasn’t entirely unprovoked. It was you.

“Stop it, I’m blushing.” You grinned back at him. Your thumb grazed back and forth on the back of the hand that you held tight. You pretended to tuck your hair behind your ear in a mock-nervous manner. “Truth is… I have a huge crush on you.”

“No way,” Patrick said, coughing just the slightest bit, smoke leaking out his lips. He smirked with that gorgeous, sly fox kind of grin, his dimple in full view. You pulled him into a kiss by the hand that you held, the taste of smoke on both of your lips, both of you smiling into it. Your hands only unlocked for his hand to slide around your waist and pull you close whilst your hand went to his jaw. Your back pressed to the door of his car. He swore he could never get sick of kissing you. Spontaneously, the way you liked. Sometimes to shut you up or to make you stop laughing so much. He pretended like you annoyed him, and kissed you to keep you quiet. Kissing you in his kitchen, on the couch, in front of the men who wanted you soooo badly. Intimate kissing, kissing with the intention of sex, or just a kiss to your temple or cheek in passing on the way out the door. He felt it almost overwhelmingly. Those three words were on the tip of the tongue that was currently slipping into your mouth.

You pulled him closer, that cigarette still burning in his opposite hand that he held away from you. He was never this kind of guy, he had never felt this way in his life. The kiss slowed just a little to your occasional few short and sweet kisses and he had the space to, so those words tipped off his tongue. “I love you.” He said. He didn’t plan it, but they fell out and into the space between you. He must have seemed like the biggest, most pathetic red flag in the world. But he said what he meant. He loved you. He’d never loved anyone. He’d never said that to anyone in a romantic context. He wasn’t sure of anything about this situation but he was sure he meant it.

Telling you put him into a limbo of vulnerability that he didn’t foresee. Your heart skips a beat. It’s so early on, there’s no way you heard him right. There’s no way he just said what he said, not tonight, not at two months. You weren’t prepared or ready or expecting it at all. Especially from him, who had sweet things to say but they were rare and usually perfectly imperfect. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? Panic spread into your chest, anxiety to follow. He said ‘I love you’, Patrick Zweig told you he loved you. Here. Now. And without thinking, you kiss him. It’s a stronger kiss, you’re kissing him as the emotions bubble up inside you, threatening to boil over. You’re hoping to drown out his words. Did he mean them? Did he mean them the way you would potentially want?

You kissed him again and again, over and over, tongue and everything, and the air is filled with only that. No words, only that. The cigarette slowly burned out on the ground, and both of your hands cupped his face, his jaw, keeping him close, keeping his mouth steadily on yours. You’re filling your mouth with him, no words, nothing else but kissing him hard. The pauses in between only for breaths, nothing more. You go to kiss him again, but his head moves backward, out of your reach, pulling back from you.

You stepped forward, chasing his lips, trying to kiss him again, but he moved backward. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt. You’ve never heard him in this tone before. You tried to kiss him again, but he gently stopped your hands from having their leverage. “Hey- stop. What are you doing?” He repeated.

Your lower lip settled between your teeth. “I- I don’t know.” You replied, flustered. Your nose is pink and your eyes are apologetic. Patrick feels his chest tighten. He’s never felt that before in his life, it feels a bit like he can’t breathe. He can’t tell how your mind is racing over what to do, what to say. He can’t read you other than knowing you didn’t say it back.

“You don’t know?” His eyebrows are furrowed and his face is close to yours and your hands are resting flat on his chest. “Y/N.”

“I know.” You replied pressing a hand to your face. It’s too early. This was too early. This was so soon, you couldn’t know if you loved him yet, it was so soon. You’d be lying to say you loved him back and you just couldn’t do that to him or to yourself. His face was full of hurt, his heart was beating against his ribcage. He said it with a conviction, with a sureness that was hard for him to find. He couldn’t muster those words on the phone with his mom but he said them to you. Here. Now. “I’m sorry.”

His face was still close to yours. His big hands removed yours from your face, seeking some sort of answer that wasn’t an apology. How could he have said that and your response is to say, ‘I know, I’m sorry’? What the fuck was that? Did you love him? Could you?

“You didn’t say it back,” he said, keeping his voice clear and steady. He wants to say those three words again, but he won’t now. Part of him, another new, undiscovered piece of him is fucking terrified. “Y’know, that’s fine, it’s-” he pulls away from you entirely.

You step after him again, feeling the guilt knot in your chest, “No, Patrick- I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I want to go home, let's go home.” He says. He’s putting up that front of his. He had never felt physical pain from anything emotional in his life. Never. Not once. So the fact your lack of words felt like a winding punch to the chest was pretty fucking distressing. He wasn’t actually sure what the protocol was when a person said an unreciprocated ‘I love you’, he’d never been in this situation before. He just knew that it hurt. And this was probably why he’d never committed to anyone before. To avoid this. This pain in his chest that was so fucking stupid and pointless.

“Patrick,” you pleaded, practically chasing him as he walked around the car to the driver’s side. “Hey, stop-” He doesn’t. “Stop! Please. Patrick. Patrick.”

His voice was just a little harsh. “Yeah?” He opened the car door, turning to you.

You looked up at him, a little desperate to be heard over the hurt you knew he was feeling. The guilt of it was actively eating at you. “It was just so soon. I didn’t see it coming, it’s only been two months.”

“I know.” He replied, expression seeming cold, but surprisingly soft. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Patrick, stop. I can’t lie to you and say I’m there yet, but I want it more than anything. And I just need time.” You explained just a little frantically. “I’m not ready.”

He sighed, looking out over the parking lot. He shook his head and looked back at you. “I’ve never said that to anyone. I’ve never loved anyone. Not like this. I didn’t think I could. Or would. But it’s you, so I’m fucked, aren’t I? Spoke too soon, I guess.”

“No, Patrick, it was perfect. God, I hate that I can’t say it back yet. Key word is ‘yet’, because I absolutely adore you and I care about you so much, there’s nobody on this earth that I want to love more, but it’s so early on. I guess I’m scared. What if you don’t mean it?”

“I love you.”

“What if you stop meaning it?”

“I love you.”

“What if we are rushing into this?”

“I’ve liked you since you first smiled at me, you drove me crazy, Art said I needed my head checked. You with your stupid low-cut shirt and you smiling at me and I was done. No more girls, no more numbers in my phone, just you. You and your astrology bullshit, you and your collection of sweaters, and your perving landlord. You. I’ve never felt like this ever, I’ve never been more sure of anything because nothing has ever scared me this much in my entire life. I mean it, I’ll continue to mean it if you let me, and I know I’m not rushing into anything because however long you think I’ve liked you, it’s so much fucking longer.” He stated. He sounded angry, but he really wasn’t. He had never had that many words, let alone words he fully and wholeheartedly and somehow poetically meant. This was how he knew you were different. You’d killed a bachelor. A good one. One who had been at it for years.

You smiled like you were relieved. It was a sweet smile, like the one that you’d sported when he first ordered a drink from you. “You mean all of that?”

“Don’t make me say it again, please,” he chuckled just a little, crooked smile coming back. “Yes, I mean it. It freaked me out, I feel like I’ve been possessed by the spirit of the guy who sings Careless Whisper, but it’s all me.” Your smile grew wider. He bat you off, shaking his head again. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you smiled. “Patrick… I am going to love you. I am actively falling in love with you, it’s terrifying, but it’s thrilling and I don’t want to stop. I just need a little more time.”

He nodded, looking down at his feet. You stepped closer, cupping his face. One of the many intimacies he’d never known until you. Soft hands on his face. “I didn’t know I had so many emotions I feel like…”

“Don’t joke.” You said. He honestly couldn’t anyway, looking at you. His smile fell to something neutral, eyes looking over your face, your perfect features. Whether you loved him back yet or not, he was lucky to have you.

“Don’t take too long,” He said solemnly, meeting your eyes. But the expression only lasted a few seconds before his arrogant little smirk crept back up. “If you don’t say it back in time I’m going to turn into a girl.”

You laughed, “Oh please.”

“It’s true.” He nodded. “Very serious thing that happens.”

“Patrick.”

“Yeah?”

“You remember when I started giving you free shots? Earlier that night, you were over at mine and you were eating Skittles and you ate all of the ones I don’t like out of the bag. And it kind of hit me that you were…that I liked you. A lot. It’s so much worse than yours. But it was then on. That’s ‘a while’.”

He grinned at your callback, laughing at how stupid that was. He grimaced just a little, smile unchanging. “Skittles?”

“Skittles.” You replied, nodding. He pushed your hair behind your ears and pulled you into another kiss. One that wasn’t trying to drown anything out. Gentle hands in a gentle, perfect, feeling-filled kiss. Patrick truly didn’t know he had so many things to feel. And it was all for you. He’d been getting used to this sort of thing. It might have been the best thing to ever happen to him. He wasn’t changed in any way that truly mattered, but when it came to you, he was completely turned off to the idea of having it any other way. You kissed him back and he felt like he finally had done something right, which was lacking for him in all areas of his life.

“I feel myself turning-” you kissed him again. “-into a girl.”

“We’ll go bra shopping,” you said, kissing him again.

“That would make you-” you kissed him once more. “-bisexual.”

“Then we’re truly a match made in heaven.” You teased. He kissed you hard one more time for good measure before really getting into the car and driving home. He knew you’d come around sometime. Didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did at all.

It was just an odd Tuesday two months later, Patrick had the laundry basket in his hands, holding the door for you as you grabbed your keys and your wallet. He was going to the laundromat, you were going to work. “You’ll come visit me later?” You asked, heading out the door.

“Yeah, around eight.” He nodded, leaning in and kissing you goodbye. “Mmm- Bye.”

“Bye, Patrick. I love you.” You smiled as you walked ahead to press the elevator button for him, hopping down the stairs. You were gone in a flash, leaving him where he was, grinning what was probably the widest he’d ever smiled. He shook his head, laughing quietly to himself as he got in the elevator. He’d see you at eight.

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#challengers #patrick zweig #challengers x reader #tinytennisskirt #patrick zweig angst #patrick zweig hurt/comfort #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig fluff #challengers fic #patrick zweig fic

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azrielbrainrot · 9 months

Text

Maybe We Could Be The Start of Something

Pairing: Band member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there.

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: none

Notes: I had this idea after seeing this art and couldn't stop thinking about it. I actually had a lot of ideas for little stories in this universe but it makes sense to start with how they met. Also I know that's a terrible band name but I never had to name a band before okay. I didn't proofread this because I think I'd delete the whole thing if I did, sorry. This is really self-indulgent but I hope you like it!

Band AU masterlist

You could only blame yourself for agreeing to meet Viviane. Your skull felt like it was going to split open with this headache that has lasted all week. The only thing you wanted to do right now was try to sleep it off under your warm blankets, but instead you willingly came to a bar knowing it was just going to make it worse.

She's been telling you about this place and the bands that perform here occasionally for ages. Apparently it's a real hotspot for up and coming musicians ever since two bands made it big after starting out here. You've been turning her down for weeks so you had promised her that you'd finally come this friday, of course when you agreed you couldn't have known your week was going to be absolute shit. Though most of your days have been shit lately. That might be the actual reason Viv has been so insistent about you going out with her, she knew your mental health was ready to take a vacation and was just being a good friend.

This really hadn't been a good day to come though. Aside from your headache, your last class had also run late, making you lose your bus and barely have time to drop everything off at home and change to come meet your friends. As a little treat you also couldn't find your nice black skirt so you had to just wear jeans, you definitely needed the extra confidence the pretty skirt provided but the universe didn't seem to care about that.

The bar was already packed by the time you got there, you were almost being pushed around while you were searching for your friends. You look down at your phone to ask them where they are and see a text from Viv asking if you're still coming. Reading it makes you stop in your tracks. You can't really blame her for thinking you wouldn't show up since you've been declining every invitation lately, but seeing that she thought you wouldn't even give her a heads up hurt a little. You knew you had been distant lately but you were trying your best to deal with life and you never meant to do it at the expense of your friendships.

You're pushed out of your thoughts when someone taps your shoulder gently, making you look back at them. Turning your head you were faced with a muscular chest, slowly looking up a tattooed neck to meet beautiful hazel eyes staring back at yours.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” he says, breaking eye contact for a second before continuing, “but I think you dropped this.” He raises his hand so you can see him holding your keys. Your house keys, the ones you would undoubtedly only notice were missing when you went back home and tried to open the door. That would have been the cherry on the cake after this whole day. Maybe you should see a witch to make sure it's not actually a curse, no one should experience this much bad luck.

“Thank you so much,” you almost yell as you grab them from his hand in excitement. He just saved you from having no place to sleep tonight. You notice him tensing up when your fingers brush against his hand and realize you might have made him uncomfortable. “I'm sorry,” you take a tiny step back in the crowded bar, “I would have been locked out of my apartment if you hadn't seen that. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” he said, giving you a nod and something close to a smile, before going on his way. You curse yourself again for acting so awkwardly. You hope you didn't make him feel uncomfortable, he was nice in picking up your keys and giving them back to you. He was also really cute which only made it more of a shame that you met like this. At least you didn't lose your keys, that would have seriously sucked.

Making your way to the table Viviane told you they would be at, you notice almost everyone is here. She was leaning against her boyfriend, Kallias, while they listened to whatever story Alba was telling them about. Ezio and Celia were both looking down at their phones and showing each other something while giggling like schoolgirls. As much as you love your friends, you don't know how much socializing you can handle today. You already fucked up what could have been a very simple interaction. Then again, with all of them here you know Viv won't try to ask you about Eleanor so at least you can keep avoiding hard topics. Viv greets you with a grin as soon as she sees you, everyone following right after.

“Hey, thought you weren't coming after all.” Yeah, you almost forgot about that. You smile anyway, knowing she didn't mean to remind you of how much of a bad friend you've been lately.

“Sorry, guys,” you sit down in the empty chair next to Alba before continuing, “Class ran late and then I lost my bus.”

“Oh. Bad luck.” You have no idea, Kallias. Conversation picked back up after that and you let them do most of the talking, taking a back seat and just watching them. You're glad that they either noticed you weren't in a talking mood or just didn't realize you were mostly quiet anyway.

You have no new stories to tell them since you've barely been functioning outside of school and talking about your feelings is definitely a resounding no, especially at a bar, so you just let them keep up with their conversations and just nod along every once in a while.

Eventually, the DJ introduces the band playing tonight. The Night Court. Judging by the screams and the way everyone moves closer to watch, they're very popular around here and you understand part of the reason for said popularity as soon as you see them step up on stage.

“Oh, they're really good!” Viviane's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “The guitarist is Mor's cousin. You remember her, right?” You nod. Of course you do. The blonde with sparkly eyeshadow and red lips leaves a big impression, forgetting Morrigan is probably impossible.

You study the guitarist as he introduces himself and the band. He's extremely handsome, the type of handsome that would make you think he can't be human, like some kind of fairy or vampire. You can tell he's aware of this fact with every honey dipped word that comes out of his mouth, literally flirting with the whole crowd. Despite not having many physical similarities with Mor, that allure he exudes definitely matches with hers.

The drummer was already sitting in place, looking eager to play. It takes you a second to notice he was in fact already sitting down as he's probably one of the tallest men you've ever seen in real life. But, with the messy shoulder length hair and big boyish grin on his face, he doesn't look scary at all.

As your eyes travel to the bassist, half hidden in the shadows, you wonder why you didn't recognize him immediately. It was the same guy that helped you before. You had thought he was beautiful before but, considering the situation, you didn't have much time to linger on that fact. However now that he was standing on stage, you could fully appreciate it. He was tall - this much you knew since you were at head level with his chest - and by the way his arms strained against his black t-shirt as he picked up his bass, you could tell he was fit too. He was looking down at the bass in his hands, making the few lights that caught him cast an ethereal glow on his face and on his onyx hair. This man looks like he stepped right down heaven's gates.

They start playing what you think is an original song but can't be sure since you were too distracted checking their bassist out to hear what Mor's cousin had said. He does have a really good singing voice but as your mystery angel starts singing, you can't help but feel bewitched back to watching him.

You barely take your eyes off him during the whole performance but they're all undeniably good. It's easy to understand why this bar is so popular if this is the level of talent their bands have. You can definitely imagine them making it big. They all seem very comfortable and content on stage and the crowd can't get enough of them.

You're so distracted by them that you don't even notice your head pounding anymore, or how fast time flies because, before you know it, they're saying their goodbyes to the crowd and leaving the stage.

Conversation starts back up after that, everyone is gushing about how talented and hot they are and you find yourself easily agreeing with their sentiments. But, with no distraction and the dj back playing songs you've heard a thousand times and the pressure of keeping conversation going, your headache comes back. You wait out just a little longer until you think it's an acceptable time to leave without worrying everyone too much.

“I'm sorry guys but I think I'm going to head home.” You finish the last of your drink even though it's mostly melted ice by that point and start putting your jacket on.

“Already?” You're not surprised Alba is the first to speak up. You'll never understand how this girl has so much energy, you had the same morning class as her but she's still as energetic as she was at lunchtime.

“It's still kind of early,” Viviane looks up at you with her icy eyes and you can recognize the concern in them immediately.

“It was just a busy week,” you explain with a smile on your face, hoping no one reads too much into it even though you all know that's not all. “I think I need to go sleep it off.”

“Are you going by yourself though?” Out of everyone at the table, Enzo is the worst one at hiding his emotions. You can see as clear as day that he's worried about you.

“I'll get an uber. Don't worry.” You gesture to your phone hoping they'll drop it.

“I can wait with you outside.” Kallias offers immediately, ever the responsible one. You really wanted to stay alone right now though.

“You don't have to.” You put your bag over your shoulder to add some finality to your words. “It's cold and there's going to be enough cars out at this hour, I won't be waiting for long.” It looks like he's about to say more but Viv puts a hand over his arm subtly, making him shut up. The bass of the music keeps hammering at your head so you don't linger and just say your goodbyes, waving at everyone with what you hope is a seemingly content smile, before leaving.

As soon as you step outside the pressure you feel starts slowing down. The front of the bar is still full of people so you walk a bit more to the little parking lot on this street. The air is cold but it feels amazing after being in the stuffed bar and your thoughts don't seem so overbearing when you don't have to try to act happy with your friends.

You love them to death but everything about how tonight went just proves that they've been talking about you behind your back. You know this is just them being good friends. You've been acting so differently in these last few months that even one of your professors noticed so it's only natural that they also did, but knowing everyone can tell only makes it worse.

You didn't want to make anyone worry about you. Life has just been going for your throat lately, minor inconveniences keep popping up and piling on top of what was already a pretty shitty situation. But you know once the semester ends, you'll get the chance to finally breathe and solve some of the problems you've been ignoring. And then things will hopefully get better. It just really sucks that your friendships and even school life has been affected by this.

Sitting down on top of the small wall that wrapped around the parking lot, you look up at the sky, willing your mind to let you rest for a bit. Watching the stars twinkling and your breath turn into white clouds of smoke because of the cold. You should probably get that uber and go home before any of your friends find you here, but your body doesn't want to move for some reason.

You feel someone approach you and look back down to meet familiar hazel eyes. You both stare at each other for a second longer than what would be normal, not expecting to see each other again.

“We keep running into each other,” you can hear his voice better here. You didn't notice how deep it was in the crowded bar. His singing voice is also deep but a bit softer than this.

“Yeah.” You smile. Seeing him again after how he helped you and then watching him on stage is making you a little giddy despite your somber mood. He seems a bit less unsure after you respond as well.

“Are you here alone?” He asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“No, I'm just waiting for an uber.” You hope you're not making a bad impression again. He probably hadn't seen you with your friends before either.

“Alright,” he looks over to what you assume is his car and then back to you, “I can wait here with you.”

“You don't have to. It's cold,” you start but he shakes his head before you even finish speaking, “I actually haven't called it yet.” He gives you a look of amusement and it just makes you try to explain yourself faster. “I have a headache. The cold just felt calming. I'll get it now.” Opening the app, you start searching and, just like you expected, there's a car barely 10 minutes away from you. A wave of disappointment washes over you at the thought that you won't get to talk to him for longer but you push it aside quickly, you barely know him.

“A bar probably isn't the best place to be if you have a headache,” he tilts his head slightly in what you're almost sure is concern. He's a little hard to read.

“I know but I already had told my friends I was coming so…” You shrug and change the subject, trying to allow this moment to let you forget about your earlier thoughts. “Didn't turn out too bad. There was this really good band playing today.” You can see a flush take over his cheeks and the tips of his ears and you feel incredibly proud of yourself for being the reason behind it.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he says as he dips his head slightly in thanks. You feel like this might be the best compliment you could have given him.

“You were all really good. I even forgot about my headache while I was watching you play,” you try not to sound too excited and make it weird but you want him to know how good his band is, “Do you perform here a lot?”

“Yeah,” he leans sideways against the wall next to you, “At least twice a month.” You're starting to notice that, although his face doesn't show too much emotion, his eyes are a little more expressive. His band seems to be a topic he likes talking about. You can understand why.

“Isn't that a big deal? I heard this bar is really popular nowadays, there has to be a lot of bands trying to perform here.” The blush seems to be back but it could also be because of the cold you're subjecting him to.

“We always try to do our best but we've been playing here for a long time. That helps too.”

“You know that's not it,” you point to the entrance of the bar, where some people are smoking, “The bar was packed. I don't know if that's how it always is but I'm pretty sure it was mostly people wanting to watch you perform.”

“You've never been here before?” It looks like he's getting a bit embarrassed by the praise so you let him change the subject.

You shake your head. “Need to come more often though. When are you performing again?”

“We don't always have a schedule,” he looks down at your phone in your hands then back up at you, “But I can text you the details.”

“Oh.” He wants your number. The thought makes warmth rush to your cheeks. “Alright.” You unlock your phone and hand it to him. While he's typing his number, you can't help but notice the scars on his hand. They completely cover his hands, the skin completely marred. It looks as if they were burned. You look away from them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring. He hands you your phone back and you see he saved his number under his name.

“Azriel,” you say the name out loud, tasting it in your mouth. He's watching you a little more intensely than before and you have to break eye contact to stop yourself from blushing. You quickly send him a text so he can save your number as well.

“I'll need yours too.” You give him your name and he repeats it, just as you had done. He makes it sound beautiful in his warm timbre and you can't help the flutter in your stomach. “I'll text you as soon as I find out when we're coming here next.”

“Okay.” You lock eyes and don't look away, just enjoying the moment, until you see a car pass by and realize it's yours.

You think you could have stayed there in the cold talking to him all night. You're not sure why but talking to him is effortless, it's like you've been friends for years. It just feels right and you find yourself wishing that he texts you soon with the concert information and anything else he comes up with. You wouldn't need much of an excuse to talk to him.

“That's my ride,” You say as you hop down from the wall. He looks at the car and when his eyes meet yours again you think you can see a hint of disappointment, hopefully at having to cut the moment short. “Thank you for waiting with me,” you smile at him again, “You didn't have to do that.”

“No problem.” He gives you a smile too, the biggest one you've seen on him. “I'll see you next time.”

“Of course.” You'd be an idiot to not want to see him again. You linger for as long as you can, suddenly not feeling like going home at all.

You wave at him again before getting in the car and something beats faster in your chest when he waves back and watches the car speed off down the street, it's almost like your heart is telling you to stay with him. You're not exactly sure what just happened but you hope you don't regret not staying with him for the rest of the night.

You keep thinking about him during the whole car ride and he's the last thing on your mind when you're laying down to sleep. And when he texts you the next day you know you'll have many more opportunities to spend the night talking to him.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #divider by saradika #band au

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