SIMPLE, SWEETNESS ˙˖ 𖥔
synopsis: you had built your walls high enough to keep the whole world out, promising you would never let anyone in again. until embry call, with soft eyes and a gentle smile he couldn’t hide, kept showing up everywhere you went.
pairing: krystopher hyatt ! embry call x 𝒇 ! reader
word count: 6,5k
warnings: mostly fluff, slow burn, slight angst, trust issues, loneliness, embry being a golden retriever, puppy love, grumpy x sunshine trope, part two soon
ℳasterlist — check out my other work
𝒴ou didn’t like boys who smiled too easily.
the ones who flashed their teeth like it meant something, who acted like they had you figured out before you’d even said a word. you didn’t trust sweet talk, soft eyes, or the ones who called you “complicated” like it was charming. like they could fix you.
you’d learned young, too young, that kindness often came with strings. that the same hands that held you could let go without warning. that affection could sour in an instant, curdle into disappointment the second you stopped being who they wanted.
so you adapted.
you learned to speak first, to cut quick and clean. you let your words bite so no one would notice how badly you didn’t want to be left again. people said you were cold, rude, difficult. a bitch, mostly, but they never called you weak. and that was the point.
you rolled your eyes at the hopeful ones, the flirty ones. the ones who looked at you like you were a prize they could win if they just said the right thing. you didn’t play games with them. you didn’t flirt back. you watched them try, and you watched them give up because you didn’t want anyone close enough to leave bruises behind.
the truth was, you felt everything too much. that was the part no one really understood.
you weren’t cruel, not really. you were just tired. tired of being too much for some people and not enough for others. tired of building connections that cracked the second you let your guard down. tired of trying to explain why you had so many walls when no one ever bothered to knock gently.
so you built your personality like armor: sharp wit, sharper tongue. sarcasm like a second language. you rolled your eyes at affection and scoffed at sentiment. better to make people think you didn’t care than let them see you did.
and for a long time, it worked.
people kept their distance. you were left alone.
you were safe.
until embry call looked at you like he wasn’t afraid of getting cut. until he smiled at you like your thorns were just part of the bloom. until he stood there, seeing all of it. the anger, the ache, ache disguised as anger, and didn’t flinch.
because embry call wasn’t like anyone you’d met before.
and somehow, that terrified you more than anything else.
it began on one of those gray afternoons that seemed stitched into the fabric of la push. clouds low and bloated with rain, sky the color of wet concrete, and the tang of salt riding the breeze in invisible waves. the ocean churned in the distance, restless, its voice a steady hush behind the hum of traffic and gull cries.
you stood outside the diner, arms locked tight across your chest like armor, your hoodie drawn up just enough to cover your ears from the chill. the cold didn’t bother you, it was familiar, predictable. it made sense.
what didn’t make sense was the guy standing in front of you, practically vibrating with misguided confidence. he smelled like cheap cologne and chewing gum, leaning on a cocky grin like it was going to melt your expression into something more pleasant.
“c’mon,” he said, too casual. “you can’t be that cold. i’m just tryna be nice.”
you raised an eyebrow slowly, deliberately. it was the kind of look that made most people squirm, the one that said you’d already sized them up and found them lacking.
“if this is you being nice,” you drawled, tone dry as bone, “i’d hate to see what begging looks like.”
his face fell in a blink, defensive pride collapsing into embarrassment. he muttered something under his breath and stepped back, shoulders hunched like a kicked dog. you didn’t flinch. just watched him walk off, the corners of your mouth twitching with something that wasn’t quite satisfaction, but close.
then it happened.
you didn’t hear anything. you didn’t see anything move, but something shifted.
a pressure in the air. a hitch in the moment. like time hiccupped around you, invisible and sudden.
you felt it in your chest. some strange, invisible tether being pulled taut between you and something else, like your soul had caught on a hook. it made your spine straighten and your head turned, almost without permission.
and that’s when you saw him.
he was standing across the lot, near a rusting pickup truck with a group of loud, laughing guys you didn’t recognize. they were jostling each other, tossing bags and wrappers and elbowing each other in the ribs, but he was still. completely still.
embry call.
his dark curls were damp at the ends, clinging to his forehead like he’d walked straight through the mist without caring. he was taller than you expected, long-limbed and broad-shouldered, but with the kind of posture that said he hadn’t quite grown into himself yet. his clothes hung off him casually, worn jeans and a hoodie with the sleeves pushed up, exposing strong forearms.
but it wasn’t the way he looked that made your stomach twist.
it was the way he looked at you.
like someone had slammed the air out of him. like the earth had just tilted on its axis and he was the only one who noticed. his expression was so soft and stunned, almost reverent. like you weren’t just some girl standing outside a diner with a resting bitch face and biting sarcasm, you were something sacred. something important. something he’d been waiting for and hadn’t even known it.
you blinked, heart fluttering, and looked away immediately.
you didn’t do moments like that. you didn’t feel things like that. that kind of look? that kind of silence? it led to something. it asked things of you.
you hated it.
but still… you felt it. that strange tug in your chest, faint but undeniable. like gravity had shifted just slightly, and now it pointed in his direction.
you took a glance back.
he hadn’t moved, not an inch. his friends were still talking, laughing, shoving each other around and he hadn’t even noticed.
he was still looking at you.
like nothing else in the world mattered.
you tore your gaze away like it had burned you.
whatever had just happened, whatever that moment was, you didn’t want it. couldn’t handle it. the look in his eyes had cracked something open, and you slammed it shut before it could spill out.
no.
no, you didn’t do this.
you didn’t do soft looks from strangers and invisible tethers tightening in your ribs. you didn’t do boys with eyes that saw too much and mouths that didn’t know what to say. you didn’t do… whatever the hell that just was.
your legs moved before your brain caught up, boots hitting wet pavement as you turned on your heel and stalked toward your car. your heartbeat thundered against your ribs like a warning. you didn’t glance back. you didn’t have to.
you felt him watching you all the way across the lot.
there was a low buzz behind your ribs, something not-quite-painful and not-quite-pleasant, a tension that didn’t belong to you but had sunk into your bones anyway. it felt like the air was reaching for you, like it wanted to pull you back toward him. and god, that terrified you.
because a boy like that, who looked at you like you were something gentle, like he didn’t see the sharp edges and rusted hinges, he’d want things you didn’t know how to give.
he’d want trust. vulnerability. the parts of you that had been trampled and patched over too many times. and you didn’t know how to hand those over without bleeding.
so you left.
you climbed into your car, slammed the door harder than you needed to, and gripped the steering wheel until your knuckles whitened. you didn’t start the engine right away. you just sat there, staring at the windshield, at the rain beginning to bead across the glass. your throat felt too tight, your skin felt too small.
you didn’t know why you felt like you’d just turned your back on something that would’ve ruined you in the best kind of way.
but you pressed your foot to the gas anyway and drove.
and behind you, across the parking lot, embry call stood as still as a statue.
the laughter around him had faded into static. his friends were calling his name, nudging him with concern when he didn’t answer, but he barely heard them. he was still staring at the space where you’d been.
something in him had changed. deep, permanent and wordless.
he didn’t know your name. didn’t know why your shoulders were so tense or why your eyes burned like they’d forgotten how to be soft. but he knew one thing:
you were it.
the imprint had struck him like lightning. fast, consuming and completely blinding.
and you were already gone.
embry didn’t remember the sound of the rain starting.
didn’t remember the way the gravel crackled under his boots when he finally took a step forward. just one, instinctive and shaky, like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that you were already gone.
he’d stood there long after your car disappeared around the bend, blinking like he was trying to wake himself up. his heart was racing, chest tight with something he didn’t have a name for, his stomach swirling like the ground had just dropped out from under him.
imprinting wasn’t supposed to feel like this. was it?
he’d heard the others talk about it. jared, with that dopey grin whenever kim so much as breathed. sam, always steady but softer now, like emily had smoothed the rough parts of him. paul, even paul, who still lost his temper but would immediately shut up if rachel walked into the room. it was instinct, they said. it was fate.
but no one had told him how badly it would ache when she walked away.
you hadn’t said a word to him. you hadn’t needed to. the imprint had already sunk its claws in, and embry was left standing in a diner parking lot like some starstruck idiot.
he didn’t know your name. didn’t know anything about you except the way your eyes had flicked up to his. sharp, unreadable and cautious, and the way your expression shifted the second you felt the pull. you’d looked startled. then angry, and then you were gone.
it was probably for the best that he didn’t drive. he didn’t think he’d have made it home without swerving off the road.
by the time he dragged himself back to emily’s place later that day, the rest of the pack was already inside. feet on coffee tables, chips rustling in crinkled bags, and someone’s muddy boots leaving trails across the floor. typical.
“yo,” quil called the second embry walked in. “you died or something? you’ve been gone for like three hours.”
embry didn’t answer. he stood in the middle of the living room like he’d forgotten how to function. wide-eyed, flushed, and kind of… glowing? he dropped onto the armrest of the nearest chair with zero grace. eyes unfocused, mouth slightly open, like his brain had short-circuited mid-thought.
“dude?” seth asked, more gently. “you good?”
“i—” embry started, then stopped. swallowed, and tried again. “i think i… imprinted.”
the room went silent.
then, erupted.
“no way,” jacob barked, shooting upright with a grin like a kid on christmas morning. “you? you imprinted?”
“on who?” quil demanded, shoving a chip into his mouth. “wait— was it that scary-hot girl from the diner? the one who told that guy off and walked away like she’d rather be set on fire than flirted on?”
embry groaned and dropped his head into his hands, his ears burning. “yeah,” he muttered. “her.”
there was a beat of silence. and then:
“oh my god,” paul wheezed, dropping onto the couch, shoulders shaking. “she’s like a walking warning label, dude! even i know not to mess with her and i’ve never even spoken to her.”
“does she even know?” sam asked, more seriously now.
embry shook his head. “she looked at me for maybe two seconds and bolted like i was some serial killer.”
jacob clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “congrats, man. you found the one girl in la push who’s allergic to guys.”
“maybe she’s just playing hard to get,” seth offered. “some girls like a little mystery, right?”
quil leaned forward. “nah, dude. she’s got a reputation. she’s shut down every guy within a ten-mile radius. no one talks to her unless they want to get verbally murdered.”
embry rubbed both hands over his face with a helpless noise that might’ve been a whimper.
“no. there’s more about her…” he muttered, half to himself. “i don’t know her name. i don’t even know what color her eyes are, i didn’t get close enough to really see, but i swear i’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”
and god help him, he wanted to see you again anyway. wanted to know what made you flinch like that. wanted to figure out why you’d built yourself out of steel and fire, and why his heart ached like he’d been waiting his whole life to hold something that sharp.
“yup,” quil said, clapping his hands. “you’re so screwed.”
jacob raised a brow. “you good, man?”
“no!” embry said, almost laughing. “i think i’m having a nice little breakdown, actually.”
sam, who’d been quiet through all of it, watching him with a sort of steady, knowing calm, finally spoke. “you need to earn it, then,” he said. “prove you’re not another guy with smooth words and nothing to offer.”
embry nodded slowly, his jaw tight with quiet determination.
he didn’t want her just because of the imprint. he wanted her because in two seconds she’d told the world exactly who she was and dared it to flinch. she was fire and barbed wire and the ache of something broken trying to hold itself together.
and if it took weeks, months. hell, even years, he’d wait.
because you were already in his bones.
it took him four days to find you again.
four long, restless days filled with false hope and near-misses. he circled the diner more times than he could count, lurking by the windows like some awkward, lovesick puppy. he wandered down to the beach, to the gas station, to the library. not because he had any reason to believe you’d be there, but because he couldn’t sit still knowing you were somewhere in this town and he hadn’t found you yet.
all he had to go on was a flash of your expression, the fire in your eyes, the sharpness of your voice when you cut through that guy like you were carving space for yourself in a world that didn’t deserve you.
he didn’t even know your name but he knew the imprint had settled into him like something ancient. something bigger than bones or skin. it thudded under his ribs and hummed in his blood, quiet but persistent.
you were out there. and his whole body seemed wired to seek you out.
and then, on a gray, rain-slicked thursday afternoon, he finally saw you again.
it happened all at once, like fate throwing open a door.
you were standing outside the corner store, hunched slightly under a threadbare hoodie, your earbuds in and your arms crossed like a shield. the rain fell in fine mist around you, turning the asphalt slick and silver. you weren’t doing anything in particular. just staring up at the clouds, jaw tight, brows drawn like the weather had personally offended you.
but embry didn’t see the clouds or the weather. he didn’t see anything else.
just you.
his heart hit his ribs hard, once, then kept pounding like it had just remembered what it was for.
you looked so completely unaware of the moment unfolding around you. just you and your music, standing like you were trying to take up as little space as possible without letting anyone think you were weak. there was something heartbreakingly familiar in your body language, something that made embry ache in a way that had nothing to do with the imprint and everything to do with the way you looked like you’d had to build your own armor one brick at a time.
for a second, he stood across the street, frozen. the rain hit his cheeks, his eyelashes, but he barely noticed. the air felt heavier around you. like the world had hit pause.
embry didn’t want to scare you off again. he still remembered the way your eyes flinched like a cornered animal when you locked gazes with him. so he tried to be… subtle. casual.
which, for a six-foot-something werewolf with puppy eyes and the quiet intensity of someone who’d just met his soulmate, was easier said than done.
don’t be weird, he told himself trying to remember how his legs worked. c’mon, be normal. be cool. just go over there and say hi. people say hi all the time, right?
but this wasn’t normal. nothing about the way you made his lungs tighten was normal. nothing about the way his hands were shaking or how his thoughts scattered every time he looked at you was normal.
still, he took a breath, wiped his palms on the front of his jeans, tugged his hoodie lower like it might hide the fact that he was about to approach the most intimidatingly beautiful girl he’d ever seen while actively vibrating with anxiety.
and then, with a determined exhale, he crossed the street.
the rain soaked into the fabric of his sleeves as he neared you. every step felt like it echoed. his pulse thundered in his ears as he tried to figure out what to say, how to say it, how not to freak you out. he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the sharp flicker of your eyes lifting from the ground, catching him mid-step.
even from a few feet away, your gaze pinned him in place.
you didn’t move, didn’t take out your earbuds, didn’t change your expression, but your eyes followed him as he slowed to a stop near the store’s entrance just close enough to be casual, just far enough to give you space.
embry stood there for a full second too long.
the rain was soaking through his hoodie, plastering curls to his forehead, but he barely noticed. he’d frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. only the headlights were your eyes, cool and sharp and unreadable, and he felt like he was slowly unraveling under your gaze.
say something, anything, his brain screamed at him.
and so, with a breath that trembled just slightly, he stepped a little closer and said:
“hi. um. sorry, i didn’t mean to… stand there like that. i wasn’t—well, i mean, i was standing there, obviously. but i wasn’t like watching you, not in a weird way. just in a passing-by kind of way. you know?”
he gave a breathless, panicked laugh at the end of the sentence, like he could feel it all going sideways but didn’t know how to stop it.
you stared at him.
expression unreadable. hands tucked in your hoodie pocket. one earbud still in. silent.
he swallowed hard, his cheeks going pink. “okay. so, that… came out a little worse than it sounded in my head.”
your eyebrow arched slightly, but you didn’t say a word.
“i just—” he rubbed the back of his neck, rain dripping from his sleeve, “i saw you the other day at the diner. you were, uh… telling off that guy.”
still nothing. just you, watching him like you were waiting to see if he’d embarrass himself further.
he would.
“i thought you were really cool,” he blurted. “not because you were mean to him! i mean, maybe a little because you were mean to him. he deserved it. but mostly because you just… said what you meant. and you didn’t pretend to be nice just to make him feel better. you were just… honest. i don’t know. that was pretty brave.”
that stopped you for half a second.
because you were used to people calling you names, assuming the worst, flinching away when you said something sharp. you weren’t used to people calling you brave. or honest. or… cool.
and especially not in the nervous, breathless tone of a boy who thought the world of you already.
you tilted your head slightly, assessing him now. he wasn’t like the other guys, the ones who swaggered or smirked, who complimented you like they expected something in return. he wasn’t trying to impress you. if anything, he looked like he might collapse under the weight of your silence.
“i’m embry,” he added quickly, as if realizing he hadn’t introduced himself. “embry call. i, um, live here. obviously. i mean—you probably figured that.”
you blinked at him. slowly.
“…you’re always this smooth?” you asked, voice calm.
he let out a laugh. an actual one this time, if a little sheepish. “no. definitely not. just with you, i guess.”
that made something twitch in your chest annoyingly soft. you ignored it.
still, you looked at him for a moment longer. he had kind eyes, warm and open even under the weight of his nerves. there was something in the way he stood. still and patient, even when your expression made it clear you weren’t about to make this easy. that tugged at you, just a little.
you tugged one earbud out. slowly.
“…and what exactly do you want from me, embry call?”
he blinked. “i—i don’t know. nothing. just… a chance to talk. maybe again. or now. if that’s okay.”
you stared at him. “you always walk up to random girls in the rain and ask to ‘maybe talk again’?”
“no,” he said, and his voice was softer now, steadier, “no, just you.”
that stupid twitch happened in your chest again.
you looked away.
your brain was screaming at you to shut it down, to say something cutting and walk away, to guard the part of you that was already a little too curious, a little too warm, but you didn’t.
instead, you turned your face toward the cloudy sky and muttered, “you’re getting soaked.”
embry blinked. “oh—uh. yeah. i guess i am.”
“you could’ve waited until it stopped raining before you gave that weird speech.”
“it was kind of a speech, wasn’t it?” he said with a nervous chuckle. “i had this whole… plan in my head. it was cooler in my head.”
you looked back at him, lips twitching.
not quite a smile. but not not a smile, either.
and embry lit up like you’d handed him the sun.
you cleared your throat. “i gotta go.”
“okay,” he said, quickly stepping back to give you space. “totally. that’s okay. but… maybe i could talk to you again sometime? if that’s not weird. or—if it is weird, i can just keep accidentally running into you until it’s not.”
you gave him a flat look.
he smiled nervously. “just kidding. kind of.”
there was a beat of silence.
then you turned, taking a few steps away before glancing over your shoulder to look at him one last time.
“…we’ll see.”
you didn’t wait for a response.
but behind you, embry stood in the rain, blinking like he’d just won the lottery. his heart flipping cartwheels, soaked sneakers squelching in puddles, but he didn’t care.
you hadn’t said no.
and in embry’s world, that was more than enough to try again tomorrow.
you didn’t look back.
not once. not when you heard his soft breath catch behind you, not when the rain soaked through your sleeves and made your hoodie cling to your arms like second skin. you didn’t turn around, not even when your feet slowed on instinct, or when your chest tightened like something invisible had wrapped around it and pulled.
but you felt him.
still standing there in the rain, still watching you walk away like he didn’t want to move until you were gone completely. like he wanted to stay rooted in that exact spot, just in case you changed your mind.
you hated that you knew that.
hated that it felt like your body had tuned itself to some new frequency. the strange, low hum of a boy with soft eyes and stupid, kind words that had no right burrowing into your chest the way they had. you hated that the sound of his voice kept playing back in your mind. that it didn’t make you roll your eyes. that it made you pause.
embry.
embry call.
even his name sounded too gentle for the world you lived in. too easy to say. too easy to remember.
you walked slower than you meant to. told yourself it was because the pavement was slick, because the rain made your shoes unsteady, not because your head was spinning with the way he’d looked at you like you were something soft, something worth understanding.
god. that look. that stupid, wide-eyed look like you’d hung the moon and didn’t even know it.
you hated that, too.
you’d spent years building this, this version of yourself that didn’t need anyone. the girl who didn’t care if she was misunderstood. who shrugged off gossip and met judgment with scorn. you’d perfected the sharp edge of your voice, the glare that warned people not to get too close. you’d become your own armor. and it worked.
until him.
because he hadn’t flinched. not once. not when you stared him down. not when you refused to smile, or speak, or make it easier for him. he just… stood there. honest and fidgety and hopeful. the kind of hopeful that made your stomach twist.
most guys got scared off before they could say two words. they called you names behind your back, tried to break you down. or worse, acted like they could fix you, like you were some bitter challenge that could be worn down with enough charm or persistence.
but embry wasn’t like that.
he was awkward. unfiltered. so obviously nervous he looked like he might pass out if you said anything remotely kind to him. but he didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. he didn’t try to “win” you over like it was some game.
he just saw you.
and you didn’t know what to do with that.
you weren’t used to being seen, really seen, and still being treated like you were worth something. most people only liked the parts of you that smiled at the right time. the versions of you that were easier to swallow. the quieter ones. the softer ones.
but he’d seen the fire. the sharpness. the way you looked at that guy in the diner like you were two seconds from setting him on fire. and he’d called you brave.
you weren’t brave.
you were defensive, guarded, alone by design.
so why had his words shaken you so badly?
why had your breath caught when he stammered out, “just with you, i guess,” like he didn’t mind being scared as long as it was you scaring him?
there was something about him, something slow and patient and unbearably sincere, that cracked into places you didn’t want anyone touching.
and worse? some tiny, buried part of you wanted him to stay, to keep looking at you like that. like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t too much after all.
you shut your bedroom door harder than necessary when you got home. tried to shake him from your thoughts like rainwater from your sleeves. you peeled off your soaked hoodie, tossed it onto the floor, and stared at the ceiling like maybe it held the answers to this strange, uncomfortable ache that had bloomed in your chest.
you didn’t like feeling like this. like you were teetering on some edge you hadn’t agreed to stand on.
but there it was.
his voice in your head. his soft little laugh. the way he smiled like he didn’t expect anything from you, just hoped you might stick around a little longer.
you curled into yourself beneath the covers, hoodie still damp against your back, and closed your eyes.
you didn’t mean to whisper his name.
you didn’t even realize you had until it slipped out, quiet and careful, into the dark.
“embry.”
you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.
just a name.
just a boy.
but something about it echoed.
and deep down, beneath the scar tissue and the sarcasm, you weren’t so sure you believed your own lie.
you didn’t mean to talk to him again.
you’d told yourself it was a one-time thing. a glitch in your otherwise strong defense system. the kind of slip-up that happened when you were caught off guard, cold and tired and not in the mood to fight back.
but then it happened again. and again.
always in places you’d never expect.
on your way home from school, he’d be leaning against the hood of some beat-up truck that wasn’t even his, grinning like he’d been waiting there all afternoon just for you. outside the library, he’d pop up out of nowhere, pretending he just happened to be walking by, his voice way too cheerful for the silence you were clinging to. at the edge of the cliffs, your cliffs, the one place you went when you wanted to be left the hell alone, there he was, plopping down beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
embry didn’t know how to be subtle. he didn’t glide in with smooth lines or practiced confidence. he bounded. he tripped over his words. his eyes lit up the second they found you, like you were a surprise gift he hadn’t expected to get.
sometimes he’d start talking so fast, tumbling through stories about his friends or some dumb thing he saw, just desperate to fill the silence. other times, he’d just sit there, jittery but content, like being near you was enough.
and the way he looked at you, god. that was the worst part. his brown eyes would go all soft and warm, and it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fair how much he looked like a lovesick puppy who’d finally found the hand he wanted to follow home.
no matter how hard you tried to push him off, he’d show up again, tail-wagging in spirit if not in body. and little by little, against your will, you found yourself bracing less and less when you saw him coming.
you hadn’t meant to start looking for him. you hadn’t meant to scan the benches or corners or parking lots for that tall frame and sheepish smile. but you did.
you told yourself it was because you needed to stay alert, just in case. not because some ridiculous, warm little thread inside you missed him when he wasn’t around. not because something in you quieted when he was close, like your body was tuning to the sound of his voice before he even spoke.
and embry noticed. god, he noticed everything.
the way your posture relaxed now when he was near. the way your eyes didn’t flinch when they met his. the way you’d say his name now, under your breath like it was something more than just another word, something you hadn’t realized you liked the taste of until it was already on your tongue.
you’d always been good at keeping your distance. at wearing your cold like armor. most people stopped trying after a single sentence, but not him. not embry call with his puppy eyes and that cautious, shy smile that looked like it was meant just for you.
he just showed up, like the weather or the tide, and each time you let him linger a little longer without meaning to. without understanding why.
the next time you ran into him, you’d started to wonder if the universe had it out for you. or worse, that he was somehow orchestrating it, but that didn’t make sense.
he never felt calculated, never looked smug when you saw him. he just stood there like seeing you genuinely made his whole day and he didn’t know how to hide it.
this time, you sat beside him.
not close, not touching, but closer than you meant to. your shoulder just a few inches from his, the space between you charged in a way you couldn’t quite explain. the bench was cold and damp from the afternoon drizzle. you didn’t even remember making the decision to sit down, you just were.
one moment you were walking, hands jammed in your hoodie pocket, and the next you were beside him, glaring at the pavement like it had answers.
embry had seen you the second you stepped into view.
his entire face lit up like someone flipped a switch behind his eyes. his spine straightened, breath catching for half a second like the sight of you physically knocked it from his lungs. his expression softened, but his eyes stayed wide and nervous. like he was still trying to figure out if this was real. if you were real every time.
he didn’t even pretend not to notice you sitting down. he looked out of the corner of his eye, lips curling into the kind of smile that was less about charm and more about pure, helpless happiness because he knew what a big deal it was.
“i’m not staying long,” you muttered.
his smile only widened, blooming into something bright and boyish that hit you square in the chest. he bit his bottom lip like he was trying to physically stop himself from grinning too hard and nodded slowly. “okay,” he said.
that was it. no protest. no whining. just a quiet, accepting okay like he’d happily take whatever time you were willing to give him.
and for some reason, that made your chest ache.
you shifted a little uncomfortable, but not in a bad way, just in the way that happens when something new creeps in and takes up space, making a home where you swore you’d never let anyone stay.
he smelled like clean laundry and cedar and rain-soaked pine, and you hated that you noticed. hated more that you liked it.
you glanced sideways at him. he looked relaxed, almost. his leg bouncing a little, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. he wasn’t looking at you, not for long. it was like he was trying to look casual even though he was clearly seconds away from bouncing like an overexcited puppy.
the worst part? he was trying. trying so hard not to scare you, not to push too much, not to overwhelm you. you could feel it radiating off him. that careful, quiet restraint, like every molecule in his body was tuned toward making you comfortable. like one wrong move might send you bolting.
and maybe it would have. a few weeks ago.
but not now.
now, you didn’t bolt when he spoke. now, you lingered.
now, you caught yourself breathing a little easier when he was near. something invisible inside you unclenched whenever he sat beside you and didn’t ask you to be anything but exactly who you were.
you hated it. or… you were supposed to.
but the truth was, for the first time in a long time, you felt safe and you didn’t understand why.
embry couldn’t sit still. he kept fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie, twisting the fabric between his fingers like it might save him from the nervous energy buzzing under his skin. his leg bounced against the ground in uneven taps, and every few seconds, his eyes betrayed him darting toward you, lingering just a beat too long, then darting away again.
it was like, to him, you were the sun. bright, impossible, a little dangerous to look at for too long. and no matter how much it burned, he couldn’t stop.
“you’re quiet today,” you said suddenly, your voice softer than you meant it to be. more observation than judgment.
embry blinked, caught off-guard. his head turned toward you, messy hair falling into his eyes. “oh. yeah, i just…” his words trailed off, his usual cheerfulness wasn’t there.
you tilted your head slightly, studying him, and the silence stretched. a flicker of worry pricked at your chest before forced yourself to look away.
“i’m trying not to make you uncomfortable,” he said after a pause, voice low and careful. his tone was stripped of the usual teasing warmth, as if he was walking a tightrope. “just… so you know.”
you turned your head slowly, eyes landing on him. he wasn’t looking at you this time. he was watching the trees across the street, like the moss-covered trunks were safer than your face. jaw clenched like he was holding himself back.
“you’re not,” you said.
and it surprised you. not just because you said it, but because it was true. you meant it.
embry’s head snapped toward you, startled. his eyes widened, and in an instant, the tension cracked. the way his face lit up wasn’t loud or dramatic. it was quiet, steady and honest. he didn’t try to hide the way that word made him feel.
something passed between you then, fragile and still. you didn’t move. you didn’t pull away. for once, you let the silence linger without building the walls back up.
you stayed.
the silence stretched again. it was that quiet, lingering kind. the kind that could’ve swallowed you both if you let it.
then, almost before you knew why you were saying it, the words slipped past your lips:
“my name’s y/n.”
you said it quietly, almost like it was a secret. you didn’t look at him. your gaze dropped to the pavement, heart pounding far too loudly for such a simple thing.
embry froze. you could feel it.
he blinked once, twice. his mouth opened, then closed again. and then, he smiled.
not just a smile. his whole face came alive with it, bright and unrestrained, like he couldn’t hold it back anymore even if he tried. his eyes softened, wide and shining, like you’d just told him the world wasn’t ending after all.
“y/n,” he repeated, so softly it felt like reverence.
you risked a glance at him from the corner of your eye and immediately regretted it, because the look on his face managed to undo you.
he looked… happy.
no, not just happy, delighted. he looked like someone who’d just been told he was allowed to breathe again.
“that’s…” he fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh. “yeah, that’s perfect.”
you felt yourself blush. stupid and quiet. you looked away.
“i figured i should stop being just ‘hey you,’” you muttered.
embry’s laugh burst out, bright and breathless and so real it made you want to smile, too. “hey you was kind of growing on me, though.”
you rolled your eyes, but the edge wasn’t there. you didn’t retreat, not this time.
instead, you let the moment be.
and when his knee bumped gently against yours, not on purpose, not quite, you didn’t pull away.
and that… that felt like a beginning.
