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beautifulletdownfics · 5 years ago

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Sail The Widest Stretch || Part 3

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Part Three, We Paid 6 Quid For Trivia and All We Got Was Drunk

Harry should have messaged her the day she was in Brussels. Or any of the days that followed. Because now it’s been two weeks since he’s seen Amelia and he’s long past the point of panicking about it.

“Have any of you spoken to Amelia?” He asks the table on Thursday evening, dropping his scarf onto the barstool next to him and not caring that it slides onto the sticky pub floor. Harry tries extra hard not to look as though he’s kissed their friend and just focuses on looking the reasonable amount of concerned for not having seen her. He’s sure there’s a sign flashing on his forehead that rotates between saying ‘I Snogged Amelia’ and ‘I’m Not Sure Why’ and then ‘I’d Probably Do It Again’.

Luke shrugs, and Grace shakes her head, and Deon rubs his arm up his date’s arm as though he didn’t hear the question. Harry goes to the bar and comes back with two beers for himself and nothing for anyone else.

They lose the quiz—literally place last—and Harry takes out his frustration on his coat buttons as he walks out the door and onto the icy street. Amelia never appeared, and he’s angry at himself for it, sure it’s that stupid kiss that’s ruined everything. He's had three beers, and so as he walks to the tube he fumbles through the text he should have sent weeks ago.

Hiya, where have you disappeared to?

Amelia doesn’t respond.

When she walks into the pub the last Thursday before Christmas Amelia knows that Harry’s going to be watching her.

“Hi,” She chirps to the table, taking the last spot which, regrettably, is directly opposite Harry.

She gets a wave from Deon, and Grace claps her hands out in front of herself and pushes the answer sheet across the table, “Thank Christ,” She says, “I’m so shithouse at being scribe.”

Amelia loosens her scarf slowly and takes hold of the crusty, plastic pen provided by the pub. She’s itching to reach into her handbag and pull out her nice, monogrammed ink pen but doesn’t.

Nobody asks her how she is or where she’s been and Amelia doesn’t like the way she’s a little sad about that. She’s spent the last four days in Spain with Hannah and Dale and a few others, and so the disinterest at the table Amelia just arrived at is jarring.

Harry’s staring at her though, and she makes the mistake of flicking her eyes up to his face. He only raises his eyebrows at her in question, no readable emotion or feeling toward her detectable. She’d drunkenly told Hannah about the kiss, and the fact that ever since Harry has floated into Amelia’s thoughts in one way or another at least three or four times a day.

“Anyone need a drink?”

Nobody does, so Amelia goes to the bar by herself, hands jittering with the hem of her shirt as she waits for the barman to take her order and then make the vodka dry with lime. By the time she’s back at the table, the quiz has started, and Harry’s taken over the task of writing out their answers.

The questions are read out and he answers most of them without consulting the table. His head ducks down and he scrawls through US states starting with vowels, film stars who are twins and writes out names of Coldplay members. By the time the halfway break happens, he’s barely looked at Amelia or any of the others which has given him plenty of time to stew in his own embarrassment and self-loathing. Really he’s absolutely furious at her and doesn’t have an outlet for the anger.

“Are you going to let anyone else play, or are you the team tonight?”

Amelia is smiling at him gently from her spot, and he blinks at her, unsure how to take the question. The table has cleared around them—some to the bathroom, or to get drinks and Deon’s out bumming cigarettes with his date—and Harry’s surprised to be alone with her.

“You don’t say your answers out loud anyway,” He snaps back.

Amelia nods her head at him, “Fair call, that’s true … ‘ve you been alright?”

“Fine,” He says too quickly then narrows his eyes at her, “Where have you been?”

Why didn’t you answer my fucking text, Harry wants to demand.

“I had to take annual leave, been with my Gran in Bristol and then had a few days holiday in Spain.”

“Oh,” Harry nods sarcastically, the little open wound caused by kissing her and then the subsequent silence from Amelia making him lash out. “Is your Gran okay?”

“She had Lasik eye surgery and needed help at home afterwards,” Amelia finds herself defending. “She’s stocked up on Jammie Dodgers, and I recorded a few week’s of Neighbours onto her telly set, I’ll go back to check in on her in a bit.”

“Well, you can’t just kiss someone and then disappear … It’s rude,” Harry crosses his arms over his chest and decides his word is final. His anger is only building now that she’s sitting in front of him like nothing’s happened.

“If memory serves, you kissed me.”

His eyes bulge out of his head at her reply.

“You kissed me back!” Harry hisses across the table, moving his empty beer glass out of the way and pressing his index finger into the wooden table in front of her, “Amelia, I—

—Probably best if we don’t get into it here, yeah?”

He looks around the pub and leans back in his seat, “Probably.”

Amelia’s desperate to know what he thinks though. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation or regret in the kiss he initiated, and it’s been driving her mad thinking about the fact it might have been premeditated or something that Harry had considered doing before. Surely friends kissing each other is something that’s built up to, something that each party yearns for until it eventually happens in a wonderful, satisfying way. Really, the kiss has left Amelia feeling lost and unsure of herself. She feels like the honest, enjoyable time she had with Harry before the kiss has been tainted.

“I was hoping to hear from you, that’s all,” Harry eventually says.

“We’re not really mid-week texters.”

Harry wants to roll his eyes at her, he should have expected Amelia would push him away. The dread he had felt all week was built on that assumption but somehow having it confirmed still stings. It’s so frustrating to him to know her well enough to have preempted her response but not well enough to forgo it. He wants the Amelia who drank Amaretto Sours with him on a weeknight, fearless in sharing herself with him. That’s the Amelia he wants right now, but he’s got Amelia the Ballbuster and Harry hates it.

He goes back to ignoring her as the table fills again, choosing not to look up when he hears a small sigh of disappointment fall from her lips.

The quiz continues, and nobody around them seems to notice that Harry and Amelia are like magnets turned the wrong way, their repulsion to each other is awkward and heavy in the air. Neither of them can focus on anything else; not on Deon’s pawing at his date, not at Grace and Luke’s bickering or on Marc’s extensive bitching about the state of the education system in Britain.

Amelia stays to the end of the quiz, eyes rarely leaving Harry. She stared him down, internally daring him to look up at her. His anger is amusing in a way, she’s befuddled by it really. It’s like the emotion has him filling out his business suit better. His strong shoulder and the straight, hard lines of his facial features paint him in a light that Amelia isn’t used to seeing Harry in. He looks killer, like he’d eat a finance division for breakfast if they stepped a toe out of line.

“Harry,” She addresses him as she stands, wrapping her scarf around her neck slowly, “Are you staying at your sisters'?”

His face stays blank, watching her and scarcely taking in what she’s said, “What?” “Are you staying in Chelsea?” Amelia’s expression is giving nothing away. It’s not until, a beat after she’s closed her lips, that she tilts her head ever so slightly to one side that Harry realises what she’s doing. What Amelia is setting in motion. Her question is an invitation, and he’s embarrassed for his behaviour now; if only he’d been able to remain aloof and uncaring. Instead, he’s been a moody little bitch about it. He’s not too proud to take the olive branch now though.

Harry shakes his head, slowly turning it into an emphatic nod and awkwardly kicks his stool out from underneath him, “Y-yeah. Yeah,” he coughs into his sleeve, “I am.”

“Great,” She smiles, her heart racing with leftover fear he would call her out in front of the group and her plan to get Harry alone again would fail.

Harry tosses the twenty quid voucher for the bar they get for coming third into the middle of the table, “Enjoy,” He tells the rest of the group, laughing when Marc snatches the card and holds it above his head in triumph. If Harry was worried any of their friends were suss on Harry and Amelia he needn’t have, a round of free drinks was enough to smooth the whole interaction over.

He still struggling with the arms of his coat as he props open the front door with his foot for Amelia. She slips passed, and Harry takes a deep inhale of her perfume as she brushes against his chest.

She doesn’t say anything until they’re sitting on the tube, their sides knocking gently with the movement of the carriage. For all intents and purposes, they’re alone, just a few other late-night travellers are down the other end of the train. Amelia digs her elbow into Harry’s arm.

“Still crabby at me?”

“What? No,” His haste to answer gives him away.

“You surprised me,” Amelia says softly, the instant vulnerability in her voice forcing Harry’s gaze to turn on her, “I wasn’t expecting the kiss, Harry, and I wasn’t sure if you’d be wishing we’d never speak of it again.”

He frowns, “Why wouldn’t I want to speak about it?” “Maybe it was a one-time thing, maybe you wished you hadn’t, maybe it was just a kiss. People kiss all the time, right?” Amelia’s voice rises slightly with hope or something close to it, being this open with him is killing her but it was hurting more to watch Harry brooding over it.

“I didn’t regret it. Well, not really. I only started regretting it when I didn’t hear from you.”

“That’s a two-way street,” Amelia says, but really she knows the reason Harry didn’t reach out is because she’s made him feel like he can’t, or he shouldn’t. He gives her a look that tells Amelia he’s just had the same thought as her, “So we both probably could have done better,” She concedes quietly.

They arrive at Sloane Square, and Harry follows her to the same bar they went last time, holding open the heavy front door and letting Amelia choose where she wants to sit. She stands over a table, waves at Harry to sit before turning and striding up to the bar to order.

Harry watches her interaction with the bartender with an air of jealously. The guy is younger than her but he’s having a good go of flirting with her. Harry rolls his eyes to himself and wonders who the jackass thinks the second drink is for.

“This is the Harry,” She announces when she sinks into the seat beside him, trying to grin convincingly as she slides the same cocktail they’d had the week before in front of him.

A smile ghosts Harry’s lips as he takes a sip, “Seem to remember them having a different name.”

“Hush, drink up.” “Trying to get me drunk?” Amelia winks at him, “So what if I am?”

Harry raises his eyebrows as he takes his first sip, “I’d wish you good luck, you’re the lightweight here, not me.”

She takes a sip and immediately her face screws up in discomfort, “Jesus,” Amelia wheezes, slapping Harry’s shoulder when he chuckles next to her, “What the hell is wrong with these this week?” She holds up the glass and peers at the liquid.

“I think he’s given us doubles,” Harry explains, “Seems you’re not the only one trying to get someone drunk,” He gives the barman a withering look, “Prick.”

Amelia turns her body all the way around to peer back at the young guy who served her, “Him?” She points her thumb over her shoulder when she looks back at Harry, “He’s a baby!”

“I’m sure he’d be devastated to hear you say that,” Harry says dryly.

“Pfft,” Amelia tuts her tongue, “I prefer my men to be actual men, thank you very much.”

She’s wearing a wrap dress and Harry’s trying very hard not to focus too much on where the material gapes at her chest as Amelia sits next to him. Her skin shines in the low light, and the peaks of her collarbones poke out under the fabric when she moves. His mouth goes dry as he focuses back on her mouth, which only leads to thoughts of kissing her again.

“How was your week?” She asks innocently, no idea where his dirty male mind is wandering.

There’s kindness in her eyes and Harry spots her nervousness. She’s trying, and he lets out a long breath before speaking. Wasn’t he the one just wanting moments like this with her?

“A bit mental, end of the financial year coming up,” He offers slowly, waiting to see her eyes glaze over in boredom. When they don’t, Harry continues, “The new graduates started two weeks ago, so that’s taking a lot of my time. Trying hard not to think university teaching has slipped and they’re all idiots, really I’m sure I was just as clueless when I started.” “I can imagine you with the baby actuaries,” Amelia grins at him, “I bet you’re painfully lovely to them.”

“A few of them I truly think are actually thick.”

“You don’t have a mean bone in your body,” She waves him off, “The Endlessly Patient Harry Styles wouldn’t show an inch of frustration.”

“Endlessly Patient? Really?”

“To a fault,” Amelia responds, thinking of the text he never sent her. Really she’s annoyed at herself. Annoyed at herself for wishing that he would have messaged her, but also for being relieved the whole time that he hadn’t. She runs from emotions and people and vulnerability since her parent’s death. It doesn’t seem fair to rely on anyone. Family are the only people who are obliged to love and look after you, it’s unfair to ask or expect that of anyone else.

“Meils,” Harry says gently, watching her thoughts spiralling, “Have you thought about the kiss at all?”

Her eyes flutter, and she looks away, focuses instead on a couple across the other side of the bar. The other woman is basically sitting in his the guys’ lap, and when Amelia focuses back on Harry, she realises that her position mirrors theirs. Harry’s shoulder is pressed up against Amelia’s, and if she focuses on it, she can feel his chest moving with his breaths.

“I thought about it a lot,” Harry sighs, “And I feel like an idiot for it.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Amelia defends quietly.

“You were glad not to hear from me, though, weren’t you?” Harry guessed darkly, eyes following where Amelia was watching a couple a few tables from them.

He knows Amelia, and he knows that she’ll do everything she can to squirm out of admitting anything intimate or revealing. So he’s surprised when she turns to face him, their faces barely a hands’ width apart, and he sees a vulnerability there that screams fear and discomfort.

“I thought about the kiss a lot, Harry,” She feels her eyes well up and she’s really not sure why, “I was furious at you for doing it and furious at myself for just walking away, and I was terrified you’d call me about it. Drunkenly confessed it to Hannah in Barcelona, and predictably her response was marrying us off in her head,” Amelia roles her eyes but something in Harry’s heart constricts at her words. “Somewhere along the line you gained a fan in her, no idea why.”

“Furious for walking away?” He’s held onto that small detail. Maybe regret wasn’t as prominent on her radar as Harry had figured.

Amelia purses her lips together and looks into her drink, “It probably required an adult conversation, right? Friends don’t just kiss … Was scared of what you'd say though.”

“I liked kissing you,” Harry explains simply, internally begging her to look back at him because he really wants to kiss her again and he hopes in her eyes he might see an invitation. “I didn’t know it was going to happen until it did, I felt like we got somewhere that night and you looked pretty. Kinda felt like something was happening.”

“Something.” The word hangs between them and Amelia is suddenly wondering what the hell she was thinking orchestrating getting Harry here alone again. Was it guilt that had her falsifying his need to stay at Gemma’s? Or something else.

Something.

“Do you want another drink?” She asks finally, turning her head to Harry’s and trying to read the expression there. He nods once and pulls the hand that had been resting on her thigh away. She stands and her hand ghosts where his had been, heart racing as she trots up to the bar. Amelia hadn’t noticed him touching her.

“Two more please,” She chokes out to the barman, his attempt at a flirty smile falling to the side of Amelia’s reeling thoughts. Briefly, she looks back at Harry and is surprised he’s not pulled his phone out. Instead, he’s just observing her, peering without judgment or any clear message for her. She holds his gaze and only looks away to pay when the drinks are ready.

“Can I kiss you again?” Harry asks as she sits down next to him again. He’s taken off his suit jacket and undone his top two buttons, and suddenly Harry is exuding a sexual energy Amelia’s not been drawn to before. His beautiful face is completely nonjudgmental and neutral, but he’s exuding a sexual confidence she can’t deny.

The air around them stills, and Amelia puts both drinks down on the table and looks at him, she wets her lips slowly and nods, watching Harry’s eyes flick to them as her tongue moves and then back to her eyes.

He blinks for a moment before his palm finds the side of her neck and he’s leaning towards her with wide eyes, waiting for Amelia to stop it. But she doesn’t, and Harry keeps his eyes open until he sees hers shut. She opens up her mouth to him and Harry draws her tongue out slowly.

With his right hand up to her face, Harry draws her closer with his left, pulling at her hip gently to prompt Amelia to scoot so her knee props up over his thigh slightly. He pulls his lips back from hers and opens his eyes, watches her for a moment and then pulls her bottom lip back between his teeth lightly. She’s looped her fingers through the buttons of his shirt and he can feel the backs of them brush against his stomach deliciously.

They make out like that for long enough for them both to forget where they are before Harry presses his forehead against Amelia’s and watches her come back to reality. The vulnerability stays on her face, and Harry knows he’s gotten through to His Amelia, the one he finds himself craving in quiet moments with himself.

“Do you want to have the next round at my place?” She asks, instantly pulling her lips into a straight line, ready for rejection or for Harry to be sensible and say that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

Harry has a delayed reaction to what Amelia asks, he was waiting for her to say she needed to leave and for the second kiss(es) to well and truly put the nail in the coffin of their friendship. Instead, she’s sitting there with her fingers still threaded in his shirt, her cheeks flushed and a look he’s not seen her wear before. Desire makes her look older and utterly irresistible.

“You sure?” He asks seriously but then offers her a smile, “I’ve never been invited to your house before, feels monumental.”

So does the fact I’m picturing you naked underneath my hands, Harry thinks.

Amelia raises her eyebrows at him and Harry feels the playful glint in her eyes in his lower tummy, “Consider yourself invited then, didn’t realise my little flat was such a destination.”

Harry presses a sensual, slow kiss to the corner of her mouth, “Right now it’s more culturally relevant than the Louvre.”

She smiles against his cheek and turns in her seat, gathering her phone and shuffling to the edge of the chair, “Ready then?”

It occurs to Harry as they walk to Amelia’s flat, hand in hand, that he should be feeling some kind of concern or dread or worry over what might be about to happen. But Amelia’s gripping his hand and accepting the kisses he keeps stopping her walking for. Pressing his hips into hers and cornering her against people’s fences as they go doesn’t stop giving Harry a head-rush even once they’ve done it half a dozen times.

“Why didn’t we get in a fucking cab,” He grunts, his hard body caging hers from behind while they wait for a set of traffic lights to change, Amelia leans back into his chest and her heart rate quickens feeling his erection pressing into her lower back, “Are we walking to bloody Brixton?”

“It’s just around the corner,” She murmurs, lapping up the affection from him and rummaging through her handbag for her house-keys to prove the point.

Harry trips on his own feet going up the ten steps to her front door, his head tilted back taking in the three-story Victorian terrace, “Holy …”

Amelia’s holding open the door for him, waiting for Harry to get to the top step, “Alright there?”

He peers down the hallway into her dark home, before he walks through he’s got her up against the doorway, one hand resting above her head and the other pulling her into him. Harry attaches his lips to her neck and kisses along to her ear, “Want you so bad.”

Amelia feels the back of Harry's fingers slip underneath her dress and drag from her shoulder to sternum delicately. Her hands tighten around the lapels of his suit jacket. He’s standing back watching the slow journey his hand is making, taking in the way her chest has risen in goosebumps and Amelia is biting her lip to keep quiet.

Harry steps back and continues through the doorway, reaching back for Amelia’s wrist and dragging her in behind him. She giggles against his back when he pulls her up against him while he kicks off his shoes, she mumbles something about being a polite houseguest, and Harry whispers that it’s a force of habit, he’s got to keep his ghost mother happy.

“She’d be proud of you,” Amelia says a moment later, Harry’s strong hands around the back of her thighs, holding her up around his hips against the hallway wall. She drags her fingers through the front of his hair and watches as his eyes follow the movement of the bracelet on her wrist and then he swipes his tongue over the skin there.

“Hope so,” He replies, kicking her front door closed and ending the conversation about his dead mother by drawing Amelia’s lips to his in a searing, wet kiss. She moans into his mouth as Harry brings her closer. She feels his cock against her centre, “Christ,” Harry mumbles, jutting his hips forward involuntarily and hissing when Amelia slides her warm body down against his in a slow, deliberate movement. Harry’s got her dress up around her hips and she’s too close but also nowhere near close enough.

She’s drawing the buttons of his shirt open, cool hands slipping under the material to run down his chest, fingernails scratching through the light dusting of hair and enjoying the feeling of Harry’s muscles constricting under her touch.

“Which way to the bedroom,” His teeth graze across her collarbone as he leans his cheek on Amelia’s shoulder, waiting for a response. When she doesn’t respond quickly enough Harry growls her name and lets her slide down onto her feet again, “I have plans for us,” Harry whispers darkly against her lips, “Help me out here.”

Amelia’s surprised that despite what’s currently and about to happen between them, she feels oddly at ease with Harry like this. His face pink, eyes dark and hands commanding her body like nobody has before. He can’t seem to decide where to focus his attention, but Amelia quickly realises that Harry knows his way around a woman’s body. The nerdy, boyishly polite way he presents himself is a facade, and somewhere along the line, sexually, he’s transformed into a suave, imposing gentleman.

“This way,” Amelia slinks past him and Harry cups himself roughly as he follows her, readjusting his hardness in his pants, this eyes zeroed in on the quick swing of her hips as Amelia disappears into the flat.

The whole place smells like expensive room spray and French candles, and as Amelia flicks on a few lamps on her way through Harry flicks his eyes around, taking stock of the open expanse of her kitchen and living area. He knew her place would be nice, but Harry hadn’t quite expected it to be this nice.

She disappears through a doorway up ahead, and Harry runs his fingers along the wall, following where Amelia has gone. He passes a walk-in wardrobe that smells distinctly like Amelia’s perfume, shoes and coats strung over a wingback chair sitting in the middle of it. The light in the ensuite is on, but Harry’s eyes draw straight to the bed when it comes into view. The fluffy white duvet is feminine, but the rest of the room is decorated with clean lines and muted colours. There are a few photos around the place and some clothes strewn on different surfaces, but otherwise, it’s neat and everything has its place.

“Where are you …”

She emerges from another doorway on the opposite side of the bed, and Harry’s body pumps with a new wave of lust. Amelia’s taken off the tights that were under her dress and unpinned her hair. She gives him a coy look, but Harry bypasses it, taking three long strides around the bed and wraps his arms around her body tightly, “Hello,” She says, barely getting the last syllable out before his lips attach to hers.

They’re panting against each other a few moments later, and Harry looks down at her, giving in to the lusty fog thumping through him. He licks his lips in appreciation at the pink flush down her chest, spinning them around and backing Amelia up to the bed, “On your back,” He murmurs, gently pushing her hips away from his, “Let me see you.”

Amelia does as he says and stares up at him, watching Harry heavy breathing—his shirt untucked, belt half unbuckled and hair standing up in a way that makes it look as though he’s already been thoroughly fucked—something gurgles in her stomach pleasantly. She reaches to her side for the knot holding her dress together.

Harry says nothing as he watches Amelia pull apart her fabric at her chest and wriggle her arms out of the sleeves. Harry drinks in her smooth curves; the way Amelia's breasts strain against the material of her bra and the small swell of her hips join her thighs. His mind goes into overdrive as her hooded look supercharges his hormones. He begins to slowly stroke himself and Amelia is transfixed, watching Harry’s lust play out in front of her and not seeing an ounce of shame or hesitation from him. It’s hot, and she briefly wonders if this is all really happening.

Harry drops his hands to his sides and then tugs on his belt, letting his trousers fall to the ground and stepping over them to crawl up the bed over Amelia, “You’re fucking exquisite, look at you." His index finger traces from her throat to her navel, palm then attaching to her stomach and smoothing back up to cup her left breast just as she’s peeling her bra off.

A moment snaps between them, and suddenly Harry’s hips are grinding into Amelia and her back arches into his touch, their mouths join and their moans mix, heating the room with erotic energy. Amelia’s palming Harry’s cock with one hand and tugging on the hair at the base of his neck with the other, matching the rhythm of his mouth with her squeezes around him. He’s leaking in his pants, but Harry doesn’t care, he can smell Amelia’s arousal, and his fingers slide into the front of her underwear and straight between her slick folds.

“So wet,” He breathes, “Good girl,” Harry encourages as her back arches off the bed again, the sight of her writhing beneath him has Harry leaking pre-cum and bucking his hips against her hand, “Open up for me,” He instructs, smiling against her lips. She slightly widens her legs, he steals her breath when two fingers enter her, and with broad, deliberate stokes he starts working her body.

“God, Harry,” Amelia stares at her ceiling, wondering how the hell he’s making her buzz the way she is, she feels herself clamp around his fingers, trying to hold him in. Still, Harry’s experimenting with the angles, trying to find the rough patch of nerves inside her that will send Amelia over the edge. She knows he’s going to find it, and she bites her lip in anticipation as each of his stokes gets closer.

Harry watches Amelia lick the inside of her palm and then drag a second hand down to his cock, the warm wetness not as satisfying as feeling her pussy contract around him will be. Still, for the moment the vision of her tongue swiping right before he feels the extra hand on his cock is enough to have him swearing roughly against the skin of her neck, “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum.” Amelia squeezes a little tighter, and Harry swears again as he pulls back, stilling her hands with his and pulling them up to his chest, “Not yet. I need to taste you.”

His fingers leave her, and Harry rears back, his elbows attaching to the side of her thighs as he bites into her hip bone and positions his shoulders under her knees. He’s got her underwear on the floor at the foot of the bed before she can enter into any thoughts of apprehension or shyness. Amelia’s never had a man go down on her so quickly or willingly, and she tries to bring her legs together around him.

“Open,” Harry says simply, his warm breath hits her core and she feels her insides constrict in anticipation. She’s expecting him to tease her, but her whole body jerks forward in surprise when his mouth closes over her without hesitation, he hums against her as his tongue sinks down between her lips and swirls delicately around her. His lips suction over her clit and Amelia’s whole body tenses as she grips the sheets on instinct.

“What the fuck, Harry.”

Her orgasm comes quickly, but Harry isn’t delicate about delaying it or trying to make the sensation last. He wants to bring her pleasure, hearing the sounds from her mouth and the way her body reacts to his touch is the best aphrodisiac Harry has ever experienced. He’s painfully hard and trying not to skip ahead in his head and rush the whole experience of her. Fingers parting her lips, Harry presses a soft kiss to her as Amelia comes down from her high. He kicks off his pants and slides back up over her naked, his cock resting heavily on her hip.

“So sexy,” Harry speaks against her mouth, sharing the taste of her with Amelia’s tongue, “The taste of you nearly made me cum.”

Amelia kisses him with force, “Who the hell are you?”

He’s breathing deeply against her chest, a glint in his eyes that tells her he’d taken her question as a compliment of the highest order, “Surprised?”

“Well, yeah,” She laughs softly, “That was quite a show.”

“I’m not done yet,” Harry says as he leans in and kisses her again, “Still need to feel you around me.”

Amelia ghosts a hand down his stomach, her thumb coming into contact with the head of his cock so lightly that Harry lurches forward, trying to increase the friction, “There are condom’s in the top draw,” She points above her head in Harry’s line of sight.

He gives her a quizzical look but leans over, and yanks open the draw, shuffling up on his elbow to peer in, “Should I be concerned you have a stash right here?” “What? I’m supposed to trust that random men haven’t been carrying around the Johnny in their wallet for a decade?” Amelia hears the rustle of a foil packet and her mouth waters.

Harry pauses the tearing his fingers were attempting, quirks an eyebrow and looks down at her, “Excuse me for not believing you have to scrape so low into the barrel you’re bringing home blokes who haven’t had a shag in ten years.”

Amelia breaks the eye contact, “Just feels safer, is all.”

Harry dips and catches her lips in a lingering kiss, wanting to rid her of the momentary self-doubt that just fell over her features. He wants back the sexy, confident Amelia that had been writhing under his touch, “I want you to put it on me,” He whispers, pressing the condom into her hand and kneeling back on his hunches.

She shocks him and draws a sharp expletive from his mouth when before working the condom down onto his hard length, Amelia bends forward to swipe the head of his cock with her warm tongue. He’s sure he’s been told before that his cock is kind of heartbreakingly perfect; long and thick with ridges Amelia can’t wait to feel slipping in and out of her. She’s quick to roll the condom down, and she presses up on her knees to pull Harry’s neck in for a kiss. He juts into her stomach and Harry grips into the skin of her hips, groaning when the pressure sizzles his brain.

Amelia pushes lightly on his shoulders, and Harry sits back, shuffling against the pillows so his back is against the headboard and he honestly feels like he loses half his brain cells watching her hitch her leg over and straddle him. Harry can feel her warm wetness across his groin, and he shuts his eyes slowly, “Amelia, I fuckin—I swear …”

“Yeah?” She presses her chest against his and eggs him on, her breath dancing across his cheek as her body teases his senses most maddeningly, “Feel me there?” “Get on me,” He begs quietly, “Please.”

Amelia smiles against his lips and licks across his open mouth, “Haven’t told you how nice your cock looks though.”

Harry’s hands fumble as they trace across her nipples and he reads the taunt in her voice, “Don’t tease me, ‘Meils, not fucking now,” He groans, jutting his hips up, the tip of his cock nudging her clit and getting a sharp hiss from her, “Let me in,” his lips attach to the skin at the top of her breasts.

She reaches down between them and holds him in her hand for a moment, “Be gentle,” Amelia tells him so quietly he almost misses it, “You’re bigger.”

Usually, he’d make a dirty comment, but for a second there he sees Amelia the Vulnerable and Harry’s vowed to never beat her down in that state, so he kisses her neck and promises to be careful with her. His hands hold her hips, and she sinks down, a frown forming on her face as an uncomfortable burn forms between her legs.

“It’s okay,” Harry whispers, clenching his teeth with the need to surge forward, “Wiggle from side to side, it’ll be good in a mo’.”

Amelia drops her head to his chest and watches where their bodies join, a slow throbbing telling her body to seize up and still but there’s an equal instinct to move. Harry cups Amelia's face in his and draws her into a hot kiss, grazing his hands up and down her spine and tickling the undersides of her breasts to distract her, his throat catches as he speaks, "You’re so fucking warm." He pushes further into her the smallest amount he can manage, “Relax, babe,” He coaxes, catching the slight hitch to her breath when Amelia tilts her hips down and then rolls them back again.

A small moan falls from her lips, and she sinks down further on him, watching Harry’s mouth fall open in pleasure, “Feels good.”

“So good,” Harry agrees, trying out a gentle thrust to see if Amelia shows any signs of discomfort. When her head falls back and she closes her eyes in ecstasy he swears under his breath and grips her knees, hitching them up a little higher, “I’m going to fuck you now, ready?” She nods and grips her hands around his chest, “Please.”

Amelia comes out of her bathroom after three orgasms to Harry walking around her bedroom in just his pants, his trousers in hand.

“Can I hang these somewhere?” He asks, “They’ll be crinkled in the morning.”

She pulls the t-shirt she’s thrown on down around her thighs, suddenly feeling shy, “Give them here, I’ve got a hand steamer.” Harry tugs them away from her reach, “You don’t need to do it, just show me where it is. I’ll do it in the morning.” The morning.

So he was going to stay the night. Amelia settles back on her bed and pulls the duvet up over her legs, watching him pad around the room and reorganise his clothes and remove his wallet and phone from his work bag. She didn’t want him to leave, and she’s not surprised that he’s asserted he’s staying, but Amelia is surprised by the fact she doesn't feel her usual itch to make a male houseguest leave. She’s not trying to manufacture a conversation whereby she gently hints at him going home.

“I’ve put my laptop on to charge in your wardrobe, don’t let me forget it,” he returns to the bedroom, itching at his chest and depositing his watch on top of Amelia’s bookcase, right next to hers.

The soft light from her bedside lamps makes Harry’s slight tan glow beautifully across the room, and Amelia can hardly breathe remembering the way the gentle man in front of her thoroughly fucked her brains out for the last hour. Her tummy clenches remembering the truly filthy things that came from his mouth, all in the name of bringing her pleasure.

“There’s a charger under the bed,” She responds to his holding up his phone in question at her.

Harry doesn’t hesitate before sitting on the bed and plugging his phone in while pulling back the duvet to slip in beside to her. He frowns at the screen for a moment while setting an alarm before locking it and returning his focus to Amelia.

“You’re quiet,” He says tentatively, his fingers wind around the end of her hair as he rolls over onto his stomach, resting his chin on her forearm and watching her through his lashes. “You okay?” The sweetness of his tone twists her insides, and Amelia nods at him, “Yeah, sleepy.”

After kissing her gently, Harry lies on his back and falls asleep so quickly Amelia is tempted to wake him up just to complain about how easily rest seems to come to him. She lies awake after the lights are off, watching his chest rise and fall with the glow of the outside streetlight. Amelia’s mind is reeling from the night, from discovering the way her and Harry’s bodies seemed to unwind around each other and merge together in a pleasure that she’s hesitant to admit she hadn’t experienced before.

She forgot herself tonight, and Amelia isn’t used to the way the usual heaviness in her chest is no longer there. How it’s replaced with a sense of exhaustion and a need to roll closer to Harry’s warm body which she manages to resist.

Eventually, she climbs out of bed and retreats down to her sofa, slowly drinking a tall glass of cold water and trying to find whatever it was that would make her feel like she usually did. She sits down there until the clock says 2am and she starts worrying more about Harry waking up in the night and coming looking for her. She’d rather not go into her insomnia with him. He’s sleeping soundly on his stomach when she returns, his hand tucked under her pillow, and his mouth open a tempting amount.

Amelia holds her breath as she returns to the spot beside him. Screwing her eyes shut, willing Harry to stay as he is and for sleep to find her quickly. Just before she falls, the small voice in her head asks her what the hell she’s done. But there’s no further internal berating before she sinks into slumber.

He wakes with a smile on his face.

Harry can hear noises downstairs, so he is prepared to open his eyes and not find Amelia in the bed next to him. Still, it smells like her, and he wriggles his toes against the clean, crisp sheets. His face falls into a frown when he notices a small smudge of blood on Amelia’s pillow, but as his hand reaches out beside him his fingers come into contact with a small, gold hoop; her earring.

After a trip to the ensuite, Harry goes down and around to where he saw the kitchen the night before, and he immediately can smell sweet porridge. Amelia’s facing away from him, her body covered by skimpy pink pyjama set he doesn’t remember her wearing to bed the night before.

He takes a deep breath as he decides how he’s going to go about their first interaction after crossing the line they did, “Good morning,” He says well before he reaches her, giving Amelia time to hear him in the room.

She turns around on the spot, and her mouth pulls up into a beautiful smile, and Harry feels his shoulders relax. A wound coil in his gut slowly eases up, “Hi,” Amelia greets him, her tailbone resting against the bench as she watches Harry step right up in front of her and wind his arms around her middle.

The instant he touches her Harry’s body remembers hers from the night before, and he’s aching to have her again, “Look at you,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss her, “All legs and that killer smile, you’re so fucking sexy, it’s insane … You lost this in your sleep,” He curls her hair behind her ear and sees where she’s missing the earring he found, Harry presses it into her hand.

Amelia’s body hums in his hands, and she rocks forward into his hips as she slips her earring back on, finding his cock hard against his stomach just like she thought she would. She’s not sure how, because even minutes before he emerged from the bedroom she was stuck in a spiral of thoughts about how fucking stupid it had been sleeping with Harry. But as soon as he appeared, his broad chest uncovered and face still a little puffy from sleep Amelia warms to him in an instant, and she feels herself reacting to the sight of him involuntarily.

“You smell like sex,” She observes aloud with a flirty smile. Amelia’s never wanted sex again the morning after a one night stand, her interest in her lovers expires quickly and she can tick the sex box off in her head for a period of time. She doesn’t hate this alternative though, she’ll admit.

Harry’s hands drop to her behind, giving her a firm squeeze and drawing her mouth into a deep, heated and erotic kiss. She sighs into it and rushes to meet the movement of Harry’s mouth against hers, “Smell like you,” He accuses teasingly, toying with the elastic of the tiny shorts she’s wearing, “Tell me you’ve got a condom stash down here as well.”

Amelia hums her negative affirmation, “Don’t have much kitchen sex, actually.”

“A crying shame,” Harry mutters, “A woman as sexy as you should be getting thoroughly fucked in every room of the house.”

“Is that an offer?”

“Get me a condom, and I’ll show you,” Harry retaliates, his fingers drawing slowly down her arm, and Amelia dodges under his arm and skips out the room quickly. He barely has time to peer over the pot she had on the hob, dipping his finger into the mixture and licking sweet oats from the tips before she’s back in the room again.

Amelia wraps her arms around his chest and holds a condom out in front of his face, “Your ticket to ride,” She giggles.

Harry groans as he turns around to face her, “Please don’t refer to yourself as a fete ride ever again, Amelia.” She laughs at his scolding tone, “Yes, Mr Bossy.”

It takes only a few minutes for Harry to have her sitting on her cold kitchen bench, his hips between her legs and Amelia’s hand wrapped around his erection. His lips attach to her neck and he wants more than anything to mark her skin but doesn’t, he absolutely knows Amelia well enough to know a visible mark wouldn’t fly with her. And he wants to do everything not to fall from where he’s managed to climb in the last twenty-four hours.

“Are you going to cum around my cock again, hmm?” He speaks directly into her ear, sending a delicious jolt down Amelia’s spine that has her withering against him. Harry’s fingers connect with her clit and slowly draw her into a state mirroring the night before, her lips lazily sighing his name and biting down on themselves, “You’re so fucking beautiful,” He tells her.

Amelia pulls down the front of his pants and picks up the condom Harry had placed to the side, “Not in the mood for your teasing this morning.”

Harry laughs, “I pride myself on my foreplay skills.”

“Morning sex isn’t a marathon, Harry,” She deadpans, rolling the condom down over his hard cock just as she did the night before, “It’s a sprint.”

He gives her a doubtful look, “I do not agree with that statement.” “I’m trying to tell you to hurry up and fuck me,” She finally spits out, the swear words still sounding odd in Harry’s ears from her, his body responds instantly though.

A moment later he’s easing her body down onto his as his cock snuggly enters her again.

“Jesus,” he breathes, his knees bending to support her weight as his mouth seeks out her nipple through the silk of her singlet, “Amelia.”

Amelia is rocking back, feeling every inch of him inside her. One hand is on his shoulder for leverage while the other clutches to his back, “So … Good.”

“Clench around me, baby,” Harry moans as he flexes forward, “Make me feel you.”

“You’re filthy, aren’t you?” Amelia breathes against his mouth.

“You love it,” He replies quickly swallowing a moan she produces when he gets the angle of his thrusts just right, “Isn’t that right?”

Her orgasm crashes through her quickly, and Harry only manages to hold his off for a few seconds after Amelia’s, he clutches her to his chest as he cums, his uneven breath playing out against her collarbone in hot puffs. Sex with her was turning out to be something else entirely, he’s not even embarrassed by how quick it just was. It was hot and utterly mind churning.

She misses the feel of him all over her as soon as he steps away. Harry skillfully removes, ties off and throws out the condom, his pants finding their way up and over his slim hips again as Amelia readjusts her pyjamas in an attempt to gain some respectability.

Harry gives her a wolfish smile, “We need to shower, we’re gross.”

At work, Amelia fights to keep the smile off her face all day.

“His dick is that good, hey?” Hannah asks just before lunchtime, coming into Amelia’s office with a stack of mail for her.

Amelia’s face drops, “Don’t be annoying.”

Amelia arrived at work first thing and found herself confessing to her assistant what had happened the night before. There was probably a professional boundary there somewhere that shouldn’t have been crossed. But Hannah was a good friend now. A good friend who was overjoyed to hear Amelia and Harry had jumped each other.

“The lights have been flickering in the building all day because you’re fucking beaming like a lighthouse in ‘ere,” Hannah laughs, dumping the mail and slouching down into the chair opposite Amelia’s desk.

“Oh, shut up,” Amelia roles her eyes.

“Have you called him?”

“No!”

“Why the bloody hell not?”

“Because I’m not desperate,” Amelia lies.

Hannah holds her hands up in protest, “Bullshit, you’re absolutely desperate for another round, admit it.”

“It’s Harry,” Amelia says evenly, “It’ll get weird. It was just a one-night thing.”

“Does he know that?”

“We didn’t talk about it,” Amelia responds, momentarily distracted by her phone lighting up on the desk next to her. She picks it up and looks at the name on the screen, “I need to get this.”

“Oh!” Hannah’s face lights up, “Is it him?”

“Go away,” Amelia tells her.

Hannah leans forward with wide eyes, “Oh my god, it totally is, isn’t it?” She waves her hand at Amelia in some kind of movement that’s encouraging her to answer the phone as she backs out of the office, “I cannot wait for a complete play by play of his moves at drinks later.” Hannah clicks the door shut behind her and Amelia finally answers his call.

“Harry, hi,” She says, cleaning her throat and sitting a little higher in her hair.

“Hey there,” Harry greets, his rumbling voice cutting over substantial background noise, “Sorry to call you at work, I’ll be really quick—I left my computer charging in your walk-in. Can I swing by on the way home and pick it up?”

“Oh,” Amelia’s voice flattens, but she quickly corrects it, “Sure, of—of course.”

“Great,” Harry breathes, “I’m just stepping into a meeting, but can you text me your address? I’ll jump in a cab straight from work and let you know when I’m on my way.”

“No problem,” She tells him, “I’ll send it to you now.”

“Brilliant, thanks Meils. See you later,” Harry greets someone in the background, waits for a beat, and then the line drops out.

Amelia sits and watches her darkened phone for a while, eyebrows furrowed together as she tries to neaten the emotions surging through her chest. He was busy and at work, but there was none of the sweetness or gentleness she was expecting from Harry if and when she heard from him. It was jarring, to say the least. Still, a part of Amelia knows its for the best, and she’d be best to level up to Harry’s aloofness. They had sex. Outstanding sex, but it was no need to fall at his feet or change anything about how they usually interact.

She gets lost in working for the rest of the afternoon, skipping lunch when Hannah goes on her break, and instead focussing on a report from a competing company that Amelia needs to present to her CEO later the following week. Amelia’s brain loves this kind of work, taking lessons from looking at other companies and seeing how they might apply to hers. She loves toying the ethical line of how media conglomerates work, why it matters that there’s an ethical line at all.

Hannah comes home from work with her, part of the small group Amelia is hosting at her flat for Friday drinks. She changes into jeans and a knitted sweater as soon as they walk through the door, Hannah lets her boyfriend Dale in when he arrives with the wine and an arrangement of soft cheeses for a platter.

“Amelia boned her friend, Harry,” Hannah almost squeals at him as he pours them both a glass of wine.

Dale’s eyebrows rise, “Which one’s he again? Teacher?”

“No,” Amelia says softly, hands grazing the benchtop she was sitting on top of earlier that morning, “He’s a corporate actuary with an industry body.”

“He does like … Financial assessments and projections for the market as a whole,” Hannah adds perkily, earning a look from Amelia, “I read his LinkedIn.”

“Jesus Christ, Hannah,” Amelia groans, but she can’t help the slight smile on her face. Hannah’s enthusiasm for everything was one of Amelia’s favourite things about her, “Can you not?”

Hannah dismisses Amelia’s with a wave and turns her focus to her boyfriend, “We’re gonna meet him, he left his computer here after sexing Amelia into oblivion last night, and he’s coming by to collect it. You can suss him out.”

Dale looks as though sussing Harry out is the last thing he wants to do on earth, “You’re mental, the poor guy, he’s got no idea.”

Amelia’s front door buzzes, and she hits Hannah’s shoulder when her friend claps in excitement at the noise, “Stay here,” Amelia instructs, walking quickly through to the hallway.

Harry hears Amelia approaching and sees her shadow through the frosted glass of the door. He wasn’t nervous about seeing her again until right now, and he wipes clammy hands down his suit trousers.

“Hi,” She breathes through a smile when she opens the door, and Harry’s breath catches taking in her casual attire and the way the hairstyle he watched her construct that morning has half fallen out. She’s gorgeous, and he wants to step forward and kiss her, but he hears a noise behind her and pauses where he had started leaning down.

“Got company?”

Amelia wishes he didn’t look so handsome, standing in her doorway peering towards the sound of Dale and Hannah laughing, “I’ve got some people over for drinks, come in, I’ll run up and get your laptop.”

She follows him down the hallway and ducks out in front of him when Harry stops in the kitchen doorway, “Hi, I’m Harry,” He introduces himself to the room.

Hannah’s face lights up, and she hurries around to hug him in greeting, spurting off how good it is to see him again. Dale tries to exclude some coming energy to counteract his girlfriend, he puts down the cheese knife he was holding and offers Harry a hand, “Great to meet you, mate, do you want a drink? We’re on the Sauvignon Blanc, but there’s red and a few beers.”

Harry likes them both immediately but isn’t sure if Amelia wants him to stay, “I’m just dropping by, but thanks.”

He’s also a little put off by this stranger—Dale—seeming to have command and knowledge of Amelia’s kitchen in a way that Harry doesn’t. He’s known her nearly a decade now, how has he not been allowed this far in before?

“Boo,” Hannah coos, ignoring the glare Amelia gives as she reenters the room, “Stay just for one?”

Harry looks at Amelia for approval or some sign that him staying was okay with her. She has his computer and the charger cable in her arms and slowly passes them over to him, “Stay if you can,” She says quietly, “We’ve plenty to go ‘round. A couple of others are on their way.”

“I really should go, thanks though,” Harry looks up to Dale who’s already got a glass out ready for him. “Thank you,” He tells Amelia softly and taking the device from her, “Sorry I left it here.”

They share a moment that Hannah laps up from the other side of the kitchen. Harry clears his throat awkwardly when he realises he’s being watched.

“I’ll walk you out,” Amelia tells him, prompting Harry to wave at the other two and shuffle down the hall again.

“Sorry to interrupt, have a good night,” Harry steps through the open doorway and turns around quickly enough to catch Amelia frowning.

She wipes it from her face quickly, “See you Thursday?”

Despite his better judgement, Harry leans down and presses a warm kiss to her cheek, and he nods lightly, regret filling him slowly as he watches her pull back, “Thursday,” he confirms.

SCREAM WITH ME HERE

#fic: stws #fic: sail the widest stretch #1dff #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fan fiction #harry styles #harry fic #harry styles story #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #amelia & harry #harry styles smut

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crashdevlin · 6 years ago

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Fate’s Fool: Part One

Summary: Reader is an Omega who spends most of her time alone in an effort to avoid Alphas. She only leaves her apartment one night a week to play pub trivia at her local bar. What happens when her friends talk two transient Alphas into joining their trivia team?

Pairing: Alpha Dean x Omega Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut.

Author’s Note: This is my first A/B/O fic. So, please be gentle.There will be two parts. Part two is gonna have the smut. The trivia rounds are legit Geeks Who Drink Trivia rounds that I have played and yes, it is awkward when your teammates think you’re vanilla and then you know all the answers to the Marquis de Sade round. Just sayin’.

You'd been going to Thursday night Geeks Who Drink Trivia at your local bar for almost two years. Your friends told you that you needed to get out of the house and suggested the game, which relied more heavily on pop culture knowledge than general knowledge. You'd started on Saturdays, but eventually you moved to Thursday's quiz specifically to avoid people. Most people out on a Thursday night weren't gonna bother with you. It's not that you were antisocial or agoraphobic, you simply preferred to stay home because more people meant a higher probability of meeting some knothead Alpha who thought it was his place in life to make you his and you didn't want or need that macho BS in your life.

You were always small, short and petite-framed, so you'd known you were going to be an Omega just like your mom, but you'd presented late. You were 24 when that first heat hit, so you'd already learned to live your life as a Beta. You weren't going to bow to your genetics just because that's what society said you should do. Against your mother's advice and insistence, you had your doctor put you on the strongest suppressants legal to America and you determined not to change a thing about your life.

Fate, of course, had other plans.

Your fiancé, a Beta who knew your likely presentation before he got down on one knee, couldn't take it when you finally did present. As he left you crying in the park where he'd proposed to you, he made it out like he was doing it for you. "You're always going to be craving something I could never give you. You need an Alpha, someone to give you what you need."

That was the same tactic your boss used when he fired you 'for your safety'. "Too many Alphas shop here. It wouldn't be safe for an unmated Omega. You can reapply once you've got an Alpha... if he lets you." The discrimination you suddenly started having to deal with on a day-to-day basis drove you home. You got a job as a freelance transcriptionist and started to spend all of your time in your apartment. You doubled down on your suppressants, burned all sorts of incense to keep any Omega scent occluded, and you became a hermit, existing only as an online presence.

That is, until your friend and former colleague, Wendy, wore you down about trivia. Your six-person team was originally four Betas, an Alpha and you. The Alpha was fine with you for several Saturdays in a row and you were getting comfortable around him, until he scented you as an Omega. That started a confrontation that the whole bar seemed to weigh in on, about what you were doing with your life as a 26 year old unmated.

You switched to Thursdays after that. Wendy and one of the other Betas switched days with you but the Alpha and the other two did not, so you were left with half a team and the solution your friends came up with was to 'pick up strays' in the bar to fill out the team.

Wendy and Alice tried to avoid picking up stray Alphas for the team, but sometimes they were so attracted to a man, they'd invite one to join you for the night. You'd always end up quiet and reserved, in the corner, barely contributing.

When you walked into the bar you claimed your table in the corner, with your back to the wall so no one could sneak up on you, and let your eyes scan the bar. Wendy and Alice were flanking two men, both tall and broad-shouldered. Alphas. Obvious Alphas. Huge, hot, you thought you might be able to smell them from across the bar and one or both of them smelled amazing.

You sighed and pulled a pill bottle out of your purse. Emergency suppressants of a dubious nature. Highly experimental, illegal in the States, carrying warnings like 'MAY CAUSING LOSS OF REPRODUCTING ORGAN'; you bought them online and prayed you wouldn't have to use them. Tonight, you were going to have to use them. If Alice and Wendy were going to be picking up those two strays, you were gonna need them. The men followed your teammates over to the table as you were swallowing the pill down dry.

"Y/n, this is Sam and his brother, Dean." Alice said, smiling down at you.

Normally, you'd give a tentative smile and wave from your corner but something about the way the brothers both smiled at you, it filled you with warmth instead of fear. You stood, taking Sam's hand and nodding. "Nice to meet you. I need to go get a beer. Anybody else?"

"I could go for another. Probably gonna need it to get through this ridiculous-" Dean started, but Sam scoffed as he took a seat next to Alice.

"You're gonna like it, Dean. It's pop culture trivia." Sam argued.

"Did she just-" Wendy was obviously as shocked as you were that you'd been so welcoming to the Alphas.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Well, she's just... usually a little more... uneasy around new people." Alice explained without explaining.

"Well, maybe she's just a good judge of character. I mean, these guys might be Alphas but look at 'em! They wouldn't hurt a fly." Wendy exclaimed.

You weren't sure about that assessment. You were obviously a poor judge of character or you wouldn't have an ex-fiancé. And those men... those Alphas who were sitting at your table as Wendy filled out the booklet with your team name, they were definitely dangerous, but they didn't feel like they were a danger to you.

Mark, the Beta behind the bar, smiled at you as you ordered yourself a fruity craft beer and ordered Dean a lager. "You good?" He asked, as he set the mugs down in front of you. You nodded. "They're cute. I mean, if I thought they batted my way, I'd-"

"I'm sure you would... and you never know 'til you try, Mark."

"Oh, come on. You know how straight guys are when they get hit on by another man... almost as violent as you are when you get hit on."

"Violent? I'm not violent. That would be most un-'mega-like." You smiled. Mark was good people. "I'll be back for more of these." You picked up the beers and headed back to the table. You set the lager down on the table in front of Dean and sat in your corner.

"So, what's the team name?" Sam asked.

"We change it every week. Keeps the Quizmaster on his toes. Last week, we were 'The Slaughterhouse Five', this week we're 'Pulp Friction'." You answered.

"I think my favorite was 'Take Off Your Pants and Jacket'." Wendy said, letting her eyes drop to Sam's lap.

Sam laughed, a bit uncomfortably, as Dean took a drink of his beer. "At least they got good beer here."

"Yeah, they do. I used to hate beer, 'til I started coming here." You said. Wendy, again, looked completely baffled that you were being social with the Alphas. "You're not into trivia?"

"Generally, I got more important things to do with my time, but we're at a lull and our motel is paid up for the night, so my brother thought trivia would be a good way to pass our time 'til we leave tomorrow."

"Well, it's a lot of fun. This is literally the only thing I do outside of my apartment, so it's fun enough to get a complete recluse to come out once a week." You said taking a drink of your own beer.

"I'm willing to give it a shot... and I'm glad that you left the house, sweetheart." He gave a quick wink that temporarily short-circuited your brain. You looked away and contemplated taking another one of your dangerous suppressant pills.

The Quizmaster started going down the rules. "Number one: No Cheating. Please put away your phones for the purposes of looking shit up. Facebook is fine. Number two: Six people to a team. If you have more than five other people with you, you are far too popular to be at Geeks Who Drink Trivia, break into two teams and reevaluate your life. Number three: No shouting out the answers. If you're right, you don't want the other teams to know, but you're probably wrong and you're definitely disrespectful, so keep your mouths shut. You will notice there is a jester in the corner of each page. You can circle that little dude once and that will double your points for that round so use it wisely... and away we go. Round One is called 'Recently In Stuff', it's our current events round."

The quiz moved by easily. You and your friends knew all the questions for the current events. Sam was really smart about history and geography questions, but you and Dean carried the team through round two: an audio round of songs about sex and subservience which included Britney Spears' Slave 4 U, Salt N Peppa's What A Man, The Velvet Underground's Venus In Furs, and Joan Jett's Fetish and made you blush like crazy no matter what you did to make it stop.

It dawned on you, as you got up to get another beer, that Fate was fucking with you again.

According to the tracking app on your phone, if you weren't on suppressants you'd be on the second day of a heat, two amazingly hot Alphas have been inserted into your life and the quiz is playing songs about sex and subservience because even the assholes at Geeks Who Drink corporate have to remind you that a 28 year old Omega is supposed to get on her hands and knees for an Alpha.

"You all right? You look a bit flushed." Mark asked, filling your glass back up. "That doesn't usually happen 'til your third beer."

"Fine. It's just... a little warm in here. Can you tap the thermostat for me?"

Mark gave you an uncertain look. "Honey, it's 70 degrees in here. You sure you're okay?"

You shook your head. "I don't know. I'm sure I'll be fine, though." You added at his worried look.

He handed the beer across the bar. "Hey. Take care of yourself."

"Always." You smiled at him, but you could tell that it was weak. You felt a bit terrible, if you were being honest with yourself. You were starting to get angry little cramps along your lower belly and your head was starting to pound. You were a little worried that it was a side effect of the suppressant; that you might be suffering from 'LOSS OF REPRODUCTING ORGAN'.

You sat in your corner with your beer as the Quizmaster read the standings. "In third, we have 'Suck it, Trebek'. In second, we have 'E=mcHammer', and in first place by just a few points, we have 'Pulp Friction'. Round six is titled '120 Days of Justine': a round about the Marquis de Sade."

You groaned. "Really? Really, Todd?!" You shouted across the bar at the Quizmaster.

"What?" Alice and Dean both asked.

Sam cleared his throat as you resolved not to explain your outburst, too focused on the stabbing pains going through you. "Marquis de Sade is where S&M gets its name from. He wrote some... provocative stuff."

"Understatement." You mumbled as you took a drink.

You knew every answer, quietly writing each into the booklet and avoiding looking at your friends. "How'd you know all that?" Dean asked as Alice took the answers up.

You groaned. His voice made your stomach hurt more. "There's this movie called 'Quills' with Geoffrey Rush as the Marquis. It was the first rated R movie I watched at 2am while my parents were asleep. It left a mark. God bless HBO." You were breathing heavily, and had to take a deep breath to slow your heart rate.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Wendy asked.

"No." You answered, honestly. "I think I'm sick."

"Yeah, you look like you've got a fever." Dean reached across the empty chair between you and pressed his hand to your cheek. A cramp tore through you as soon as your skin touched. Dean immediately pulled his hand away. "She's an Omega?"

Wendy rushed around the table, sitting in the empty chair between you and Dean. "You need some ibuprofen. You're burning up."

"I just need to go home. It's a bad reaction to those Brazilian suppressants, that's all." You moved to stand, but your legs were too weak. "It'll wear off." You assured her.

"Mark!" Wendy shouted at the bartender. "Call a cab for y/n!"

"She should go to a hospital." Sam suggested, seriously, as half of the bar turned to look at you.

"I really don't need all this fuss." You whispered, but you didn't actually mean it. The smell of the two Alphas had grown so overwhelming that you thought you might vomit and your mind was having a battle with your body because half of you wanted to get as far away from their scent as you could and the other half wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

"How long have you been on suppressants?" Dean asked, his voice tight.

"Since she presented." Alice answered for you, kneeling next to you. "Sweetie, what's happening?"

"She's in heat." Sam and Dean said, simultaneously.

"No. No, I've... I've been on suppressants for four years. I've only ever had one... My suppressants-"

"Don't work forever. Didn't anybody tell you that?" Dean growled, and it made you want to curl into a ball.

"We need to get her out of here." Sam demanded.

"Excuse me. You boys seem sweet and all, but she's in no condition to be around a couple Alphas she don't know. If you'll excuse me..." Mark leaned down and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Come on, honey. You've got an Uber on the way."

"And what if the Uber driver's an Alpha?" Alice asked.

"Someone should ride with her, make sure she gets home safe." Wendy said.

"Oh, fuck this." Dean growled, standing. He pointed to Mark, suddenly in 'Take Charge Alpha' mode. "You, get back behind the bar. You've got a job to do. You." He pointed to Wendy. "You're gonna come with me. We're taking y/n home."

"N-no." You whimpered. "You can't-"

"Shut up." He demanded and you immediately closed your mouth. He wrenched your hands from Mark's neck and moved them to his own. He dropped a set of keys to the table in front of his brother and grabbed your keys from the front pocket of your purse. "Grab her stuff, Wendy. Sammy, let me know how well we do in Final Jeopardy."

Dean pulled you away from the table and out into the parking lot. The hot humidity hit you like a brick wall but you shivered in response to it. "Which one's hers?" Dean asked Wendy.

"Grey Ford Focus." She pointed down the lane and Dean made a beeline. "What are you gonna do?"

"We're gonna take her home. You're gonna strip her down and put her in an ice bath and I'm gonna leave."

"Really?!" Dean turned to Wendy after he'd secured your seat belt and closed the passenger door of your car. She wilted a little under his gaze. "I just thought- she's, you know, an Omega in heat..."

"Look, I would love to fix this for her, I really would, but even I can tell she doesn't want some stranger coming in and breeding her. You don't take suppressants for years and avoid leaving your apartment if you want an Alpha. Also, my brother and I are leaving tomorrow, so..."

You could barely keep your eyes open as Wendy gave directions from the back of your car. You were in too much pain. You didn't understand. Suppressants were not supposed to dramatically fail all at once like this. They were supposed to taper off, become less efficient. There's supposed to be some sort of warning before your insides betray you. "God, it hurts."

"It's okay, sweetheart." Dean reached over and ran his fingers through your hair, which was wet with sweat. "We're gonna get you cooled down. You're gonna be just fine."

"Hnnn.... hate it." You whined, grabbing his hand and pulling it in front of your face so you could scent his wrist. Dean smelled amazing, better than any Alpha you'd ever met. Most Alphas seemed to smell like bad BO and mud, but Dean... Dean smelled like pine trees and good steak and vanilla and... sex. Dean smelled like sex. Warmth pooled between your legs at the smell.

He jerked as your tongue snaked between your lips to lick at his pulse point. "Hey, do not lick me, woman."

"Well, can you lick me, then?" You asked. You weren't sure where that question came from, you weren't sure why you'd licked him. He did taste so good, though.

"Wendy, control your girl." Dean demanded, pulling his hand away from you, reluctantly.

"Hey. Sweetie... we're almost home." Wendy put her hand on your shoulder and you groaned. "It's just up here on the right. Park in space 57."

You clung to Dean as he pulled you out of your car. "Put your feet down. Come on. You gotta walk, y/n." You tried, but your legs didn't want to cooperate. He took a deep breath and picked you up. "All right, fine, but you keep your hands to yourself." You nodded and nuzzled into his chest. He smelled so fucking good.

"She's not usually like this. She usually distances herself from Alphas." Wendy explained, walking into the elevator and pressing 5.

"Yeah, figured. That's why I'm trying to distance myself." Dean grunted out and somewhere in the back of your heat-rattled brain you realized he was breathing very shallow breaths, only through his mouth. Trying not to smell you. "She's only ever had one heat. Doesn't know how to keep herself from making a huge mistake."

"No, I mean, she's always been kind anti-Alpha. She didn't think she should have to be someone's just because she presented how she did. She usually fights when Alphas find out what she is."

"Yeah, cause she's usually on suppressants and has a clear head. Not like now. She should avoid Alphas. We're assholes."

"I just think... maybe she's having this kind of reaction for a reason. Like maybe her body knows it's time or maybe you're her true-"

"Shut it! Truemates ain't a thing... and as for her body: are you a doctor or a biologist?" Dean growled as the elevator dinged and the door opened.

"No, but my parents weren't Beta, Dean, so I'm not as ignorant at some." Wendy followed Dean as he carried you toward your apartment door. "And they were truemates. As soon as Dad saw Mom, he knew he had to have her. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and she smelled like every good smell he had ever loved. Mom said she could scent him across the food court. They were mated with twins on the way before my mom was 20."

"That doesn't sound like true love. That sounds like your dad was a fuckin' knothead and decided she was his and used the Truemates Myth to make it seem like it was out of his control."

"Hey!"

"Whatever, Wendy. Open her door so I can drop her and get out of here." Dean said, shaking the keys at your friend.

"Don't go, Alpha." You whimpered, clutching his shirt and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Fuck." Dean breathed out. "No. Nope. Not doin' it. You're not thinkin' straight, y/n. You just need to go calm down, cool down and... wait for it to pass, sweetheart."

"Don't wanna. Want you, Dean. Want my Alpha." You started to kiss his neck. There weren't any thoughts in your head. You were just doing and saying exactly what your body told you to do and say.

"Bet you'd like that, huh? Pretty little Omega wants my knot?" He whispered as he walked through your door.

"Yes." You whispered into his neck.

"Yeah, you want that right now, but you'd hate yourself in the morning. I'd rather you hate me right now, sweetheart." Dean dropped you to your sofa and pried your hands off of his shirt. "Get her in a cold bath, take her to the hospital if her fever doesn't break, and text me with updates." Wendy nodded, expecting the Alpha to walk away, but he looked down at you, instead. "And she's gonna be dehydrated when she wakes up. Water and Gatorade, get her some protein bars if the suppressants don't kick back in. Grab her some pillows, make her comfortable, and turn the ceiling fan on."

"Okay."

Dean stared down at you for a few long seconds before taking two large steps backward toward the door. "Above all else, keep her safe. Comfortable and safe. Once she comes out the other side of this, she'll need that peace of mind."

"Okay."

~~~~

You woke up the next morning, on your couch, with what felt like the worst hangover you'd ever had. Your head was pounding, your skin sticky from sweat and your stomach felt like the aftermath of crunches day at the gym... and you were more thirsty than you could ever remember being.

Luckily, Wendy thought of that, setting out a large glass of water on the coffee table for you. Your loud gulps woke her from her sleep on the recliner across the room. "Hey. How you feelin'?"

"Like I did several keg stands last night. Wh-how'd we get here?" The night was fuzzy. You remembered the bar, spontaneously going into heat, but everything after was vague.

"Dean drove us."

Heat flooded your body at the mention of the Alpha, followed by mortification as you remembered the rest of the night. "Oh, my god. I can't believe I threw myself at him like that." You cried, covering your face with your hands.

"He was completely understanding, y/n, and a total gentleman. Any other Alpha, you'd have been knotted, but Dean took you home, made sure you were safe."

"Oh, great. So, I embarrassed myself in front of one of the only good Alphas I've ever met. Great." You took another drink of water and started to look around. "Where's my phone? I need to call Dr. Whitaker."

"Don't worry. I called the Omega Whisperer as soon as I was sure I wasn't gonna have to call an ambulance. She'll be here in..." She looked at her watch. "About thirty minutes."

"Ugh. Don't call her that. Whitaker went to med school. She's a doctor."

"Well, you heard Bravo is after her for a TV show about her practice, right? That's probably what they'll call it."

You shook your head. "Whatever. Just as long as she can tell me why the fuck my suppressants just stopped working last night."

"Maybe because your truemate was sitting two feet away?"

"Oh, come on!"

"Look at what he did to take care of you! He doesn't know you, but he wouldn't let us put you in a cab. He drove us here, ran down a list of ways to make this better for you, then demanded I text him with updates. Y/n, he feels the connection, just like you. Even if you're both denying it."

You rolled your eyes. "Let's just wait to hear what the doctor has to say."

Dr. Whitaker, however, nodded when Wendy brought up her theory. "Makes sense."

"I'm sorry, what?" You exclaimed. "Don't tell me you believe this 'truemates' shit, Doc."

"If by 'truemates' you mean the one or two people of opposite presentation whose pheromones work with your own and amplify each other, then yes, but it's not soulmates... it's science."

"Well, hear that? It's science."

You ignored Wendy's teasing and leaned forward. "Wait, could this pheromone boost have negated my suppressants?"

"Oh, totally. Even if you hadn't been on day two of your cycle, you probably would have gone into heat last night, suppressants be damned. The shot I gave you should work to shorten this heat for you, take the edge off." Dr. Whitaker shook the bottle of Brazilian suppressants as she stood. "I'm confiscating these. Not because they had anything to do with last night, but because they are dangerous and if you want to lose your ability to ever have pups, I'd rather set up a hysterectomy and do it right."

You looked down at your lap. "Now, if you want my advice, y/n, and I'm sure you'll just ignore me because have for as long as you've been my patient... when you've got a chance, text that Alpha. He's yours, and he's good. He respected you in a way that's rare... especially for an Alpha who wouldn't have to deal with the consequences since he was leaving."

"He gave me his number so that I could update him on your condition." Wendy offered. "Which I should do." She continued, pulling out her phone.

"Get to know him. Maybe you'll surprise yourself." Doctor Whitaker said, tossing the pills in her bag and zipping it up. "And just a reminder, this hermit lifestyle ends once you've got an Alpha. Another reminder, you haven't had sex in four years."

"Thanks, Doc." You said, sarcastically.

"I have your best interest in mind, y/n."

"Yeah. I know."

~~~~

Wendy insisted on giving you Dean's number, but you didn't use it. Dean and his brother didn't hide that they were transient. They said they spent weeks at a time on the road and when they were home, home was in Kansas. You'd seen The Wizard of Oz enough times to know that Kansas was no fun. You were certain you'd never see him again and once again determined nothing about your life was going to change.

If Fate had a face, you would punch it.

Part Two

#spn #fanfic #a/b/o dynamics #reader-insert #dean/reader #omega reader #alpha dean #soulmates #true mates #cassie writes stuff

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hattywatch · 7 years ago

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Healthy Competition - Jimmy Vesey

Jimmy Vesey 28. “I can’t believe you just did that.” Requested by Anon

Author’s Note: This is likely going to have a part 2. Good selection, anon. You stared across the bar, but cool-ly. Would someone know you were staring? Definitely not. Just kidding, everyone knew because you were spastically trying to catch your friend's eye and stop her from completing whatever ridiculous act she was trying to pull off.

“He's so fucking ca-yoooote,” he happened to look up and catch your eyes and give a little wave, so you gave a half smile before looking down awkwardly. Reaching across the table and grabbing another of your friend’s nachos, flipping it over to shake the jalepeño off, you thought over your cowardice. It was pub-quiz night, and you two were planning on killing it for the third week in a row. Team “Honor Roll with Butter” consisted of just the two of you and it was your favorite part of the week. There was only one team that was ever any competition. Four guys who drank too much beer and were the reigning champs- before you and your friend started your dynasty, anyway.

You had your eye on him for a few weeks now. He always smiled at you when you walked in and always said hi when you found yourself next to him while waiting for the bartender. Sure, you wanted to progress the conversation, but you're awkward (please see aforementioned wave encounter) and you didn't want to sound like you were trying too hard, and if he really wanted to, nothing was stopping him from coming by your table after you eviscerated his team in pub-quiz. So, you just smiled and assumed he probably wasn't interested like that, just making polite eye contact since you’re both always here week after week. Gazing at him over a plate of nachos was fine, no need to embarrass yourself further.

But anyway, back to the matter at hand. Your team of two was just crowned champs, again- thank you very much, and your beloved partner has since taken it upon herself to celebrate by trying to embarrass the life out of you. She’s incredibly difficult to corral after a few drinks, so your protests fell on deaf ears as she checked her hair in her phone’s front facing camera. She promised noble intentions of “getting you some intellectual intercourse�� followed by a crass wink, walking over to fraternize with the enemy, Team “Periodic Table Dancers” (Honestly, points for the team name).

In all fairness, it wasn’t an entirely selfless endeavor. She had been trying to make eyes with another of the “Periodic Table Dancers” since week one, she just didn’t want to leave you sitting alone when she went to flirt. Her sympathy had worn thinner with each drink it seems, especially since the seat next to the tall, dark, and chiseled was vacant. So as you frantically tried to catch her eye and lure her back to your table before she could do any damage, mouthing, “Get back here now!-” she did her best to ignore you, before hopping up onto the empty stool at their table.

It was difficult to read her lips from where you sat for a variety of reasons, consisting of- but not limited to: how drunk she was, how tipsy you were, how far away she was, and your lip reading skills being abysmally below par. It looked like she was leaning across the table to say “My friend thinks you're cute,” which was enough for you to vacate your hightop in favor of filling your cup at the bar. No need to sit here and watch your night become a veritable shit show.

Waiting at the bar and doing your best to avoid the feeling of eyes watching you, you prayed for the bartender to come over so you could grab another drink. She caught your eye and nodded to let you know she saw you and would be coming your way next. You glanced down at your phone while waiting for her to finish pouring out shots at the other end of the bar for the rowdy team who always placed last.

Feeling someone lean against the bar-top next to you had you looking up, hopeful it was your friend, finished making a fool out of the two of you. It really was the best quiz night in town; going to another one after this would just be disappointing. Luck wasn't on your side, though. Stood next to you wasn't your teammate, but the cute adversary you'd been carefully trying to avoid eye contact with for the better part of two hours. Luckily the bartender swooped in, “Another, hon?”

“Yes please, Sandra! Thank you.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, “Get him one too. I'm pretty sure my friend's been harassing his table for the past 15 minutes and it's the least I could do.” Sandra smiles and looks up at him and he places his empty glass on the counter and requests, “Just another beer, please.”

You stay quiet as Sandra fills another pint glass and pops it onto a coaster in front of him, “No charge for him. He's earned one since you guys keep kicking his ass week after week.” She winks and walks away, leaving you stood there wide-eyed and frantically wishing to disappear through the sticky floor tiles.

“I'm Jimmy,” he holds out his hand for you to shake and you do, tucking your hand into his giant one and giving him a jerky handshake.

“Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/n).” You're quiet for a beat before you feel it get a little awkward and you're antsy to fill the silence, “I'm… really sorry about her. She had a rough day at work. She doesn't usually get so drunk, but ya know… After a few drinks I can't really be responsible for her antics.” You take a long sip of your drink, just for something to do with your hands really, and to have an excuse to stop talking.

He doesn't want to stop talking it seems, because he doesn't let the silence sit, and he picks up where you left off, “Yeah, she said as much. She also said you were too shy to come over and talk.” He looks you in the eye, head tilted innocently and smirking, daring you to combat the statement.

Your face is hot and the bar is warm and there's so many places you'd rather be right now, because how fucking embarrassing??? You totally need a new friend after tonight because, honestly who does this? Not cool. Not. Cool.

“I mean, I'm not shy-” you start, trying to extricate yourself from this cluster fuck. You can literally see no way out of him knowing that you have a big, gross crush on his stupid face; you’re just too antsy, “I didn't want to intimidate your team. I figured you guys lose enough on your own. You don't need me and my giant brain getting into your heads before the game, ya know?” There we go. Sarcasm, right? Best defense mechanism there is. He seems to like the banter because his smirk becomes a smile and it feels really nice to be the one that made that happen.

He's looking at your vacant table, which won't remain empty for long- the post trivia crowd is starting to make its way in- and jerks his head in that direction before walking towards it. You take the invitation and follow him, climbing back onto your stool as he drags the one across from you closer, right next to yours, before plopping down on it. He's tall, which you knew, but his feet graze the floor, while yours dangle freely and you realize just how much bigger he is in comparison.

Under different circumstances, you could be... well not cool, calm, and collected, but at least slightly less frenetic You're worried about what Lucy-loose-lips may have let spill before he decided to get up and walk away from her word vomit, and you don't like him having all of the power in this situation.

It seems he can sense how uncomfortable you are, because he coughs and looks at you before trying again at a conversation. “Your friend likes Chris, huh?” He tips his glass to point over to his table. She’s pulling out all the stops; she's leaning in to talk to him with her hand on his forearm and you can tell she's laying the charm on thick. He seems into it though, smiling at her and listening intently to whatever she's saying. You smile a little because her last boyfriend was a douche and Chris seems like a nice enough guy.

“Yeah, she won't shut up about him.” You smirk and are finally a little more relaxed, now that you're getting the chance to focus on her crush over your own for 5 seconds.

You manage to keep light banter going for a while, him claiming they were undefeated before you showed up and ruined his life, and you claiming you’ve been holding back and he doesn’t even know what he’s up against. The conversation flows organically, Sandra even brings over another round on the house (you knew you liked her). You explain how you tricked your friend into coming here that first time you came. She thanked you since she got to stare at his friend, Chris, all night which led to you guys returning the next week and then not being able to stay away after your back-to-back wins. He laughs and admits that he was happy you guys started coming, since none of the other teams were very good and he liked a little healthy competition. He's almost done with his beer and he pushes the glass back and forth between his hands a few times before giving you a side-eye and letting that smirk settle back onto his features. “What? Is there something on my face?” You wipe your hand over your mouth, nervous that he won't stop staring at you.

“No, you're good. I was just thinking about what your friend told me.” The smirk was back full force and not going anywhere and damn if you don't have a streak of curiosity running straight through you. So, you steel yourself, finish your drink, and meet his eyes; “Well then, do tell. What did Chatty-Cathy have to say?”

You've used up just about all of the courage you possess, so you drop your eyes and play with the frayed edge of a rip in your jeans. He finishes his own drink before clearing his throat, it has the desired effect, since you look up and he continues talking. “She said, and I'm just quoting here really, so you can't shoot the messenger-” he pauses to make air quotes with his hands, which are large and strong and hot damn do you want them on your body, “-‘My friend thinks you're cute, but she's too much of a chicken shit to come over here and talk to you. You should go talk to her because she hasn't gotten any in a while and you’re just her type.’” He flourishes the end with another air quote and bless him, his face is just as red as you’re sure yours is.

You can't help but smirk back because this whole situation is so fucking ridiculous and he's even cuter when he's red like this and technically none of what she said was a lie. Might as well go for broke, since worst case scenario you just never come back here ever again. Might as well “shoot your shot” as the kids say these days, no?

“Okay, full disclosure? None of what she said is a lie?” It's not a question, but your inflection turns up at the end, since it's implied you're trying to figure out if he’s as into you as you are into him; would he really have come over here if he wasn't at least a little interested?

How many drinks have you had? Who is this confident girl who is practically asking this guy to come home with her? It can't be you, you're clearly being possessed by a spirit who cares about you and wants you to get laid. You're mulling over the likelihood of a benevolent ghost being responsible for all of this when he finally speaks up again.

“That's good to know. If we're going on the ‘full disclosure’ rule right now, I also think you're cute and have been trying to get your attention for the past 3 weeks, so I'm glad your friend got toasted and let it slip... Because I was also too shy to come over here.”

He's got his hand on your knee and he's looking you in the eye, so you give him a nod to let him know you're okay with it, but he keeps talking, “I have also not ‘gotten any in a while,’ sooo if that's a thing that you wanted, I would also be okay… more than okay, actually, with that happening.”

You're pretty sure your heart just stopped because fuck yes, please. You’ve never been this forward in your whole life but he's into it, he just said it, and you know that you're into it, and his hand feels so good on your leg, gently squeezing and getting a little higher than you'd consider strictly decent in a public setting.

“Well, we should probably fix that then. For both of us. We could leave?” You look over to his table and your friend is fully in Chris’s lap now. They're laughing and he's got his arms wrapped around her, and the two other teammates are nowhere to be found, smart of them to leave, honestly.

“Let me just,” you jerk your thumb towards your friend, indicating you need to say goodbye.

“Uh, yeah, definitely. I'm just going to go close my tab.” He looks excited that you agreed to this, if not a little shocked and you're feeling the same. But no complaints, since you want to feel him all over every inch of you if you're being honest.

Not wanting to interrupt, you tap Chris on the shoulder gently, “Can I just, steal her away. One second. I promise I'll bring her right back,” you hold up one finger and grab her hand before tugging her a few feet away, not waiting for an answer. She's got a shit eating grin plastered on her face and starts talking before you can get a word out.

“I see you met Jimmy,” she raises her eyebrows and nods her head over to where he is. He's sitting back at your table watching you two, but when he catches your eye and knows you caught him staring he looks down, the red coloring making its way back, sitting high on his cheekbones, “You're so fucking welcome.”

“I did, yes. I can't believe you just did that…. But I'm going to let it go. I'm taking him home. Find somewhere else to go tonight, okay? It's the least you can do for embarrassing me, you brat.” You tug her in for a goodbye hug and wave to Chris before making your way back to Jimmy.

“Okaaaaay, um-” you tuck a loose piece of hair back behind your ear, ��-ready to go?” Jimmy stands up and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He nods and cocks his elbow out for you to loop yours through as he leads you out of the bar into the cool night air.

#jimmy vesey imagine #jimmy vesey fic #new york rangers imagine #rangers fics #nhl rpf #nhl imagine #nhl fic #part 1

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nicoladoeschina · 6 years ago

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Beijing Business Trip aka Mini Holiday :) Oct 27-31

Beijing isn’t really known for its sunsets, or sunrises for that matter.

So when I saw some amazing skies this weekend, I knew it was special.

Marveling the beautiful Beijing skies was like pressing pause.

Especially after a whirlwind of a week starting my new job at Yili.

But lucky me, I got to take a “business trip” back to Beijing for a long weekend.

On Saturday morning, October 27, I got off the overnight train at Beijing Railway Station.

I slept for nearly the entirety of the nine and a half hours, and was ready to load my Saturday with friends and fun.

I made my way through the throngs of people outside the station, and onto to the subway headed to my hostel in Sanlitun. Beijing was considerably warmer than Hohhot – so walking the final 1000m stretch in all my layers with my bloated backpack was a tiring! Yoga House, Beijing was where I stayed. It is absolutely STUNNING. The owners converted their two-story corner apartment in Yongli Plaza to a yoga hostel! The views over the Workers stadium, of GuoMao business strict, and along Gongtibei Lu towards the mountains west of Beijing was to die for. I definitely made the right choice.

I took a truly lovely, much needed shower, and was back on the road. This time, headed to Dennis’ rugby match out by the airport. I biked to the airport express, shot over to the airport, then took a taxi to the pitch at Dulwich International School.

It was the perfect day for rugby – blue skies and crisp autumn sunshine.

Dennis’ team, the Beijing Devils, pummeled the opposing side. No surprise. They’re the best team in Beijing. This was the third time I saw them play. The first time was in Beijing October 2016 when I came up from Nanjing to visit, then in Shanghai December 2016 when I popped over from Nanjing to join their tour (SO MUCH FUN – I’m talking lots of rugby, lots of beer, lots of players accepting awards with a make-out, lots of tour virgins in drag, lots of superhero costumes, and ME). You could say I’m a pretty committed fan.

Anyway, after the match we took the team bus back to the city, and went to Dennis’ apartment to freshen up before going to the team’s bar, Schillers, for their pub quiz that night.

Coincidently, the joker cards during the quiz were from the Shanghai 2016 tour – and our card was Frazier, whose virgin-drag outfit I helped fix that night. He was Beautiful, and I remember so clearly at the rugby match awards dinner him singing Can You Feel the Love Tonight from the Lion King – winning the praise of the ladies and NOT having to strip naked.

So trivia was great! But as midnight came around, I was insanely exhausted. I walked like a zombie the wrong direction home for 20 mins before realizing it, then had to walk all the way back home. It should’ve been a 15-minute affair. My eyes were about to fall out of my face. I made it home and crashed HARD.

Sunday I decided to sleep in and rest. After all, it was my first real break day after getting back to China, period!

For lunch, my friend from uni, Yasser, picked me up and we went for Turkish doner and coffee in Sanlitun. YUMM!

After we parted, I went on a nice walk around Sanlitun. Lots of fun things to see.

I went back to Yoga House and was treated to a beautiful panorama sunset. The clouds !!!! Amazing.

After taking in the views, I biked over to Guomao to have beers with Ricky at BeerSmith. It was definitely more upscale, but not as good as Slow or Great Leap.

It’s in the China World Mall, across from the CTV Tower, aka Pants building.

It was nice seeing Ricky! He’s a traveler like me so we can talk forever, but we were smart and didn't stay out too late.

Monday morning I literally rose with the sun. When I walked downstairs the sunrise before me was absolutely incredible. And I had all the views to myself. So SO so so SO beautiful.

Once the sky reached a uniform calm blue hue, I curled up with my book for some morning reading.

At 11am I was scheduled to go to Slow Boat Brewery, where I interned the year before, to hang out with my former boss, Chandler, and the master brewer, Daniel. What I thought would be a few hours – I planned to go to the tea market after – turned into the WHOLE day! Daniel and I had such a great time chatting about so much random stuff. Around 1pm, we did a tour of the brewery with the Chengdu brewers that were in town – so that’s when the beers started flowing. After that, Daniel had me sample a lot of their new beers, and we eventually made our way to the roof to bask in the sunshine. It wasn’t until 4pm that we decided it was time to go home. Some take-aways: baby cows are like puppies, terroir, darker teas actually have MORE caffeine than the lighter colored ones, and Daniel needs to run a pub quiz. #Knowledge.

Afterwards, I went to LingErJiu for my very favorite youpomian – super fat noodles topped with pork, bean sprouts, bok choy, carrots, and of course hot chillies – and roujiamo – a shredded pork sandwich. YUM! It was delicious, but I also remember why eating it once a week last spring made me fat. Truth.

That evening, I had arranged for Dennis and Doc to meet. Dennis will assume teaching the Doc while I’m in Hohhot. At 6pm we met at Beijing Union Medical College for our lesson together. The Doc was delayed by an emergency surgery, so Dennis and I hung out with his assistant, who likes to go by the nickname Little Shrimp. She’s adorable.

The Doc finally joined us. He and Dennis really hit it off! Dennis actually knows a lot of anatomy owing to his rugby life. We chatted about the Doc’s upcoming conference and made great progress!

Around 8:30pm we left the hospital with Little Shrimp, and two of the doctors colleagues for some beers and light snacks nearby. It was a fun time!

Afterwards, Dennis and I hopped on some OFO bikes, which were all broken by the way, F U OFO! But we finally found properly working ones. Dennis and I were headed the same direction and had a great chat biking home! Love him!

It was late when I got back, and I hit the pillow hard in anticipation for a working day.

Tuesday morning I woke early to prepare to head down to Yili’s office in the southern-eastern quarter of Beijing proper. The morning was packed with presentations given by group that was just finishing up their training period.

The 60 trainees were divided into 8 teams that had to come up with ideas about new marketing and sales strategies for given Yili products. The groups all did great jobs, and really got to showcase their creativity. One group wanted to pitch a new yogurt product as a cure for spicy and oily hotpot. Another group wanted to link soybean milk to beauty of traditional Chinese small towns. I was impressed!

For lunch, we went to the basement cafeteria. It’s very interesting how basically every office building in China has a food court. I think on one hand it’s convenient, but on the other hand, it’s too closely integrating work/the work place into break time. There’s not a great division between work and private life here in China.

After lunch we went back upstairs for the afternoon program. We watched a video about Yili’s culture.... which is part comical and part infuriating.

Basically, the video was a compilation of professional speakers talking about “Yili Spirit.” One Yili delivery man left his family behind in Shanxi province, to travel 4000km to deliver Yili’s milk to families in need. He persevered despite wind and rain and cold – to get that milk to its destination! Yili Spirit!!!!! They even played “You Raise Me Up” during the presentation...

Then there was another speaker who literally showed a picture of a rainbow and discussed how there’s beauty after a storm, just like how if you work hard, you will create beautiful things!!!!!! Omggggggggggggg!!!!!!! I laughed a LOT. But also WTF.

When the onslaught of ridiculousness finally stopped, we had some free time before the dinner party in the evening.

ZhenZhen and I headed over to the Panjiayuan Antique Market. It was way cooler than expected! There was a whole slew of traditional Chinese products, ranging from meditation walnuts, to porcelain, to paintings, to polished jade in every color you could imagine.

I LOVED it! I now know where to go to furnish my apartment in Beijing when I finally move there in mid-January.

At 6pm we joined the festivities. It was an evening of good food and good company. Each of the small groups had made up some song or dance. SO CUTE! Then there were some people that sang or danced individually. All in all, everyone was SO talented!!! I was really really impressed and humbled.

I love this aspect of Chinese culture where everyone is so supportive and ready to showcase their abilities. It’s very common at dinner parties to celebrate with their talents, good food, and many many toasts where everyone stands to chink glasses and even move around to different tables to toast with everyone. Why don’t we do that at dinner parties in Western culture? It’s great! I’m going to make it happen.

When the festivities ended, everyone said their teary, semi-drunken goodbyes – the training program was over for that group and some were headed down to the Shanghai branch.

Around 9pm I hopped onto a bike to make my way up to Beixinqiao to meet Berit for some beers. It took FOREVER on the 3rdring road. Ugh. But finally I made it.

She took me on her scooter over to Side Street, formerly known as Ron Mexico. Who did we see outside, but Ian! My former classmated from UIBE, and Tom’s best bud besides yours truly. What a coincidence!

Then two of Berit’s friends also met us, and we grabbed a table. There was a pub quiz in progress, and we joined the last round – music! Sexual Healing and Biggie Smalls made an appearance. Good times! I did a lot of heckling.

Then the four of us went over to Great Outdoors. It’s a hiking/outdoorsy themed hutong bar nearby. Very very cool vibes! By midnight, I was falling asleep so Berit drove me home on her scootie! WEEEEEE!! Riding with friends on scooters in Beijing is one of my favorite things. I absolutely love biking, but you can’t go two or three people on one bicycle. Scootin in Beijing is love.

When I arrived back at Yoga House, I promptly hit the pillow.

The next morning, Halloween!, I rose early-ish because at 9:00am I had to make my way over to Beijing West Railway station for my 11am train back to Hohhot. First I walked around to pick up snacks for the nine and a half hour train ride, then I headed out. First I biked to Chaoyangmen, then hopped on the subway. Beijing West is quite far away with a transfer in the middle, but I made good time.

On the train I alternated between reading, sleeping, and snacking. The time passed in a cinch. One complaint about the slow trains in China, however, is that everyone smokes in-between the cars. The smoke stays trapped inside. I hate being smoked-out on the train. Otherwise it’s quite comfortable even in the hard-sleepers, where they give ample blankets and pillows.

SO, that was my first business trip that was 90% mini holiday with friends, and 10% business. I am so grateful !!!!!!!! I love Beijing, I love all of my amazing friends, and I love everything I’ve worked so hard to build during my time there that brought me HERE. To this crazy roller coaster ride of my first job.

Love all around!

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