#at first i laughed! i thought it was funny but now with the statement..... this isnt gonna be good for bedard or perry tbh
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Hear me out but… request for an experienced fem reader being Laios’ first time? I just think virgin Laios is so adorable because he’s such a monster nerd, endearingly dumb but also so strong and reliant— a true leader. He’s not ignorant towards sex of course, he explores that area in monsters, but he’s never had the chance to explore it himself. I wanna imagine he’s never touched himself before so reader teaches him how to actually have sex (and not just going off by the book yk). Reader teaches him how to pleasure her as well and I just know Laios would be such an eager (and quick) learner, messy and all AAAA I wanna see it qwq
p.s. it’d be funny if reader taught him how to kiss properly too bc I feel like he’s the type to just go in, mouth ajar and his eyes are barely closed 😭
teaching laios
꒰ includes ꒱ ⸻ laios touden.
꒰ warnings ꒱ ⸻ afab! reader, virgin laios, unprotected sex, penetration.
꒰ mimi's note ꒱ ⸻ when laios gets nervous he spits out random monster mating facts, but it's really so cute it's hard to be upset about it. sex with laios is both pleasuring and educational!
It all started when he confessed he'd never been intimate with somebody before. "Wait- seriously?!" Chilchuck gawked, "Ya never had se-" A hand clamped over the half-foots mouth, Laios looking a little embarrassed now.
"Don't say it," Laios frowns, "I just... was never given the opportunity." He murmurs dejectedly, "I've never even kissed anyone before." Your own eyes widened at this statement. He's never even kissed someone before? Your heart skips a beat when he shyly casts a glance your way. Namari bursts out in a laugh.
"Next you're gonna say you've never masturbated before!"
An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air after that, before Chilchuck and Namari awkwardly apologize. "I've read monster mating rituals though!" Laios tries to improve the situation, but it only makes Chilchuck and Namari feel worse for him. After that, the topic swiftly changed to work-related matters instead, everyone happy with the change in topic. Despite the change in topic, it didn't leave your thoughts. You highly doubted the opportunity never presented itself, but rather Laios didn't pick up on the clues.
As the night continued on, everyone slowly dispersed until it was just you and Laios at the table. "You know," You begin, wondering how to approach the topic, "If you wanted I could teach you." Laios looked over at you with furrowed brows.
"Teach me what?" You give him a pointed look, and when he still didn't understand you leaned over and whispered in his ear.
"How to kiss... How to have sex."
The red blush that took over his face almost made you apologize, ready to take back the offer when he spoke up. "Would you really?" It was hard not to pounce on him right then and there, but you did well keeping your cool as you nod.
"Of course." You say, taking a swig of your drink. "Come over tomorrow and I'll start with the basics." You hoped the dim lights in the bar helped hide your own flusteredness.
And that's how you ended up where you are now, straddled on Laios' lap, teaching him how to kiss properly for the last hour. He certainly has improved in such a short time. When you first arrived, he just puckered his lips and hoped for the best, and then he thought perhaps just leaving his mouth open was the best course of action, before you had to stop him and show him how to properly kiss.
"And you don't have to be scared to touch me, you know?" You inform him after a while, pulling away from his lips (much to Laios' displeasure, he's learned he quite likes kissing), to gently guide his hands to your hips. "Just like that," You say, "Or you could move them high," You move his hands to your waist, "or even lower, if you want," You place his hands on your thighs. You lean in close, "Or you can always do this," Guiding his hands to cup you breasts through your shirt, his breath hitches at the intimate position. You leave him to explore your body, his hands wandering from place to place, but always coming back to your chest.
It was endearing, watching him with such excitement. "This reminds me, griffins do the same thing- they feel up their mates before, y'know, mating."
"Oh? I didn't know that," Laios nods eagerly, his eyes never leaving the way his hands fondle your breasts. You bite back a chuckle as you say, "Want me to take my shirt off?"
Laios nearly chokes on air, sputtering out a response that sounded like a yes. When he catches his breath, he affirms his decision and you take your shirt off, tossing it to the side.
If you thought he wasn't mesmerized before, he certainly is now. His hands shake with excitement as he touches your breasts, this time without a barrier. "They're so soft," He mumbles. He glances up at you as you let out a moan, his thumb giving an experiment flick to the perky nipple. He breath catches in his throat as you let out another moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
"N- Not bad," You say, biting back another moan as Laios relentlessly plays with your chest. "Don't forget to be gentle though, or it'll hurt," Laios nods, understanding and slowing his actions.
Your own hands begin to explore him more, reaching for his belt and undoing the buckle. You lean in to kiss him as he continues to fondle your chest, your hands undoing the button of his pants. "Laios," You murmur against his lips, he hums in response. "Do you want to do... more?"
How could he possibly say no when everything felt this good? He nods, moaning a 'yes' against your lips.
You roll your hips against him, grinding down. His hands squeeze your hips, groaning into the kiss. "Feels good, real good."
"Yeah? 'm glad." You pull off his shirt, your hands running against his chest. Firm muscle under your fingertips. His cheeks grow more red, kisses growing more frenzied. "Mm, L- Laios," You pull back, admiring his flushed face and blissed glazed eyes. "Let's take these off, yeah?" He glances down at his pants, helping you pull them off of him.
Laios grows bashful at being so exposed to you, he's never been seen by someone in a situation like this. His cock twitches with just as much vigor as Laios, and when you touch it you almost think he was going to cum right then and there. A violent shudder as he falls into you, letting out a loud gasped-like moan.
"You're so pent-up," You tease once he's okay, and he looks up at you with a little pout on his face- one that screams to not tease him. "Sorry, sorry, it's cute though." You assure him, slowly running a finger up the underside of his cock and watching him ball up the bedsheets underneath him. He bites into his lip harshly.
"Look Laios," You urge, nudging him to look down and watch as you play with his cock. He sighs in bliss, looking up at your eyes.
"I want, hn, to make you feel good too- ngh!" His head falls back as you pump his cock, giving a little twist that makes his stomach do flips.
"In due time," You promise, "Let's focus on you right now." Although he wants to protest, he can't find a good enough reason to. Instead he lets your hand work him up even more as he desperately searches for your lips again.
It's not long until your panties begin to grow uncomfortably sticky, and you take Laios' hands, guiding him how to jerk himself off before you shimmy off your pants and panties, exposing yourself to the cold air and him. His hand speeds up at the sight.
"Slow down," You remind him and although he wants to speed up, he listens and slows down.
"Can I touch you now?" He asks, and you nod. His hands, hesitantly, reach for your pussy and he swallows thickly at how wet you are. Was this because of him? "B- Basilisks self lubricate like this too." He nervously spits out a monster fact.
"Is that so?" Laios runs his fingers awkwardly through your slick a few more times before you decide to help him.
"Listen Laios, if you're going to please someone like me, this is really important, okay?" He nods, listening intently. You help him find your clit, showing him how to rub tight little circles into the sensitive bud. "This here- oh fuck," You curse, trying to focus but Laios is now rubbing circles against your clit and it's mind-numbing how good he is at it for a virgin.
"You feel good?" He asks, and you nod, hand wrapping around his bicep as you let out sounds of pleasure that fill Laios with hunger for more.
"So good, a-are you sure you've never done this before?"
"Mmhm," He nods, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your left breast, "You're the only one."
Ah shit, that went straight to your core. You groan, and despite the nice sensation you need to keep your mind on teaching him properly. You show him how to finger you open, and when he feels bold enough he slips in another finger. "Just like that," Your back arches, your chest pressing against his. "D- Damn it, if you keep this up you'll be a pro in no time."
Your praise makes him feel fuzzy, and he desperately wants more. He picks up his pace, grunting as he neglects his cock to explore your body with all he's got. His hand snaking around your neck and pulling you in to a sloppy kiss. Your knees buckle and you cum around his fingers, panting heavily against his lips.
"Laios," You pull away with a little whimper, "You ready?" You ask, looking down at his dick. He blinks several times before registering your words.
"I'm ready," He breathes, and you nod, showing him how to line up his cock with your hole. You help him, slowly sinking down on to him. The stretch burns, and you take it slow for both of your sakes.
"You doing okay?" You check in on him after you've managed to take all of him. He is breathing deeply, a bruising grip on your hips.
"Mm, I'm okay- are you?" You press a sweet kiss to his lips.
"I'm okay," You let out a shaky exhale. "I'm gonna start moving."
With that you do move. Laios watches in awe for a few seconds, before his hands fall between your thighs. "Is this okay?" It was more than okay. He finds your clit, playing with it as you try to ride him, although your legs are getting shaky and you're not sure how much longer you can keep this up.
"Hmm- let me help you," Laios says as he notices your thighs shaking. You try to say something, but Laios' hands find your hips and he lifts you up before slamming you back down. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head.
Your walls squelch and clench around him, and his breathing grows more ragged. Laios finds this position no longer helpful, and he, with your permission, lifts you up so he can lay you down on the bed before continuing.
"I feel a little funny," Laios slurs, his thrusts growing more and more sloppy with each one, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in close as you moan. Your warm, gummy walls suck him in deeper and deeper and he isn't sure he can last much longer. "I think I'm gonna..."
"Go ahead," You whine, "M- Me too."
Like a feral animal, Laios sets a surprisingly fast pace, fucking into you as if this wasn't his first time. Finally that hot feeling Laios felt spreads throughout his body and with a loud cry of pleasure he cums. He keeps going until you've cum a second time, before he slumps against you, not pulling out.
"Ha, I- I didn't realize it'd feel so... nice." He whispers, and you groan, lightly hitting his shoulder.
"Get off of me, you're heavy," He murmurs an apology, pulling out and rolling off of you. "Well, I'm glad you felt good."
"Can we... do this again?" You blink in surprise at his words, before giggling, nodding.
"Of course, I've still got a lot to teach you, after all." He sits up, looking down at you fondly.
"I'm looking forward to it. Thank you!" He smiles, and you hope he doesn't hear how your heart skips a beat. He really is too cute for his own good sometimes.
꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful day, darling!
#dungeon meshi imagines#dungeon meshi headcanons#delicious in dungeon imagines#delicious in dungeon headcanons#dungeon meshi x reader#delicious in dungeon x reader#x reader#imagines#laios x reader#laios smut#dungeon meshi smut#dungeon desires
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A drabble based off Samu's part of this post cuz I miss little haruki
summary: haruki has to hang out with his uncle 'tsumu while his parents are at the hospital
Atsumu and Haruki have been staring each other down since Osamu dropped him off ten minutes ago. Haruki has seen his uncle 'Tsumu many times before, even on TV, but never has his uncle babysat him.
"So kid... what do ya wanna do?" Usually when Atsumu's with his nephew it's under the supervision of you or Osamu. Being completely alone with him is new to both of them.
"Um. I don't know, do ya have any toys?" Your carbon copy asks.
"Nah, I don't play with toys, I'ma grown man." He explains to his nephew. The small child doesn't like that response, "When I'm a grown up I'm gonna play with toys!"
Atsumu ultimately forgets that Haruki is a little boy with childish ideas, so he chuckles at his statement.
"No ya won't, kid."
"Yes I will!"
"No ya won't."
"Yes I wi-"
"Hey! How 'bout we play some volleyball, huh?" The blond athlete realizes there is absolutely no point in fighting with a six year old.
"I hate volleyball, it's boring." A loud gasp escapes Atsumu's lips and he feels like he's been shot right in the chest.
"Yer lying, right? Haha that was pretty funny, made me laugh." He refuses to believe that any nephew or niece of his would hate volleyball. He has to be joking...
"'m serious! Papa took me to a volleyball camp last year 'n I hated it! Everyone was so mean to me 'n they kept telling me I couldn't hold the ball for myself." Well, there's the problem. As a six year old everything is about you, you, you. So, Atsumu assumes Haruki didn't like it because he wasn't the center of attention.
"Let me tell ya a lil' something. I'm gonna go get a volleyball and I'll tell ya this story while we're outside." Haruki's obviously skeptical of what his uncle plans on doing but he'll go along with it for right now.
The little boy sets his Sonic themed backpack down by the front door, when he makes sure all his toys are secure in his bag, he slowly stomps his way to the sliding glass doors that lead to his uncle's backyard.
There's a net that's way too big for Haruki to hit anything over it outside, which immediately discourages him. Atsumu soon returns with a volleyball in his hands, Haruki would assume with all that money his uncle makes he'd have a nicer looking volleyball, but the one he's holding is all beat up and dirty.
"Are ya too poor to get a better ball?" Atsumu doesn't even take it to offense because he knows Haruki is genuinely curious and not trying to be rude.
"Nah, this ball is older than ya are. 's the ball me n yer papa used to use when we were first startin' out." That seems to ignite a new interest in the little boy, well, if his excited gasps were anything to go by.
"I'ma give it to ya so ya'll have somethin' to use when you play." This isn't enough to convince Haruki to play volleyball but Atsumu's not done just yet. He still has to tell him the story, but first they have to set up the small net, so Haruki can hit over it.
Atsumu opens up his shed to find the little beat up box that contained he and Osamu's old volleyball net from their elementary school days.
"Woah! That net is the perfect size for me!" His nephew screeches in excitement.
"Yeah 's also older than ya." The two set up the net and Atsumu teaches Haruki the form to receive. He tosses the small boy a few so he can get used to receiving.
"Okay, so, I wanted to tell ya that, volleyball ain't all about you, but at the same time it is," Haruki doesn't say anything in return. No little kid wants to hear that everything isn't about them.
"I had trouble understandin' that m'self when I was growin' up. I thought- nah I knew I was the shit so I acted prideful 'bout it." His nephew gasps at him saying a bad word, but he doesn't interrupt his story.
"'n I really don't care who likes me and who doesn't. I was like that back then too, so I never really had anyone besides 'Samu to play with. Which was fine when we were young, but in a real game, ya need six people." Haruki nods his head to let his uncle know he's listening.
"I had to realize that volleyball was a team effort 'n I couldn't play the whole game, m'self," He pauses for a second to bump the ball back the Haruki.
"That was also when I started to realize, it really was all about me, 'cause if yer a good setter all yer hitters gotta rely on ya. They need ya to set to 'em." Haruki pauses for a second.
"What if I don't wanna set? I wanna be a hitter like papa was." Atsumu smiles at him.
"It applies to hitters too, if yer a good hitter then yer setter will most likely set to ya the most often, 'cause ya can score." Haruki's eyes light up with a new sense of hope.
"Will you teach me more about volleyball, Uncle 'Tsumu?" Atsumu's earlier dread has completely left his body, his nephew didn't hate volleyball, he hated not being the center of attention, just like Atsumu did.
The two go back into the house when the sun is almost down. Haruki had learned so much from his uncle, and he was excited to show all of it to you and Osamu.
Atsumu goes to call his brother to realize that he had missed 4 calls from him and a few texts with pictures attached.
"Haruki! Hurry up 'n get in here! Yer sister is born!!" Haruki comes running in with his new (old) volleyball.
"Lemme see her!!!" He tries to grab his uncle's phone.
"Be patient, ya little gremlin." Atsumu pulls up the picture and hands his phone to tiny, grubby hands. You look very tired, but a small smile graces your face and you're holding a tiny little bundle in your arms. The next couple of pictures are Osamu holding his daughter too.
"Ew, why is she so wrinkly?" Atsumu tries and fails to hold in a chuckle. His nephew's face is all scrunched up and disgusted.
"'s 'cause she was just born. She's been swimming 'round in yer ma's belly for the past nine months. Kinda like how ya stay in the bath for too long and yer fingers start to get wrinkly." Atsumu explains, Haruki's not convinced, at all.
"Ya looked the same way when ya were born." Haruki shakes his head so fast Atsumu wouldn't be surprised if his head popped off.
"Nuh-uh. I was never wrinkly!" Atsumu is quick to go through his albums to find the one of Haruki's birth.
"Yea ya did, look." Haruki takes a good look at the picture before jumping up in surprise.
"EWWW I WAS WRINKLY!!!!" He starts running around like a crazy animal on the loose, screams leaving his lips.
Atsumu snorts, "We were all wrinkly babies at one point." The setter also learns how rewarding being an uncle is.
©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!
#©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈#atsumu is def the fun uncle#i think haruki didn't like him at first bc of how samu would talk crap about him (in a sibling way ofc)#and he thought his papa actually hated his brother#now anytime he's with his friends he'll brag abt how his uncle AND dad were on tv#he 100% inherited the annoying big brother trait from his uncle#his little sister will never catch a break lmaoooo#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#osamu miya x reader#osamu#miya osamu x reader#uncle atsumu#atsumu miya#miya twins#miya atsumu#miya osamu#dad!haikyuu#haikyuu characters as dads
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now that its set in i feel bad for bedard and kinda lowkey corey perry because this rumor is most likely not true and its just hmmm... probably isnt the most desirable thing for bedsy to open up the internet and see trending
#and i dont even like corey perry but DAMN#like now bedsys MOM is getting pulled into this and like#both parties of this rumor have FAMILIES something like this is#idk#at first i chuckled because it was just outlandish#now its#number 1 trending on twitter with some crazy tweets and now its setting in to my brain that this rumor is gonna have big consequence-#if its false#and again i wont lie#at first i laughed! i thought it was funny but now with the statement..... this isnt gonna be good for bedard or perry tbh#but now im also like#wtf did corey perry do to get scratched like that after the hawks put a good amount of money into him#nhl#corey perry#connor bedard
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Watchtower Tech. Danny
Part 2
Part 1
Dick was excited when Bruce asked if he wanted to go back to the watchtower today after school. Of course he said yes, it was so fun the first time he went last week. But unlike last time, the novelty of being up in space wore off quicker than the first time. Because this time, Bruce had to attend a meeting. Dick sat in his own chair—kicking his dangling feet next to Bruce as he talked about some boring thing or another. Dick looked out the window and watched the stars outside, it was those stars that reminded Dick of Danny—the fellow Gothamite who worked below the lower levels of the watchtower. So when a break was finally called, Dick went up to Bruce and tugged on his cape.
“Hey, B,” Dick asked, looking up at the man.
“Yes, Chum,” Bruce grumbled out as he looked over his notes with a furrowed brow.
“Can I go hang out with my bird buddy down stairs?” Dick asked. Bruce looked at him, trying to recall what the words meant which made Dick sigh, “you know, Danny, the guy I met last time.”
“Hmm.” Bruce said, thinking. Dick has only just started to figure out Bruce speak, but he knew that particular ‘Hmm,” in that tone ment Bruce was weighing his options. After a few more seconds Bruce sighed, “go ahead.” He says in his gruff voice.
“Yes!” Dick exclaimed.
But before he could run off Bruce said, “as long as you are not distracting him from his work. If he is too busy, come right back.” Bruce demands.
Dick let out a groan, “fiiiiiine!” He moans before running over to the elevators and pressing the button to go to the lower floors.
The elevator doors opened to what looked like the hustle and bustle of a wearhouse mixed with an auto body shop. Several employees littered the floor, Some at computer stations, others at work tables while some just sat and ate in the corner laughing with others who were on their breaks. Also unlike last time—now having permission to be there—Dick scampered across the floor looking for the familiar black hair of one Danny Nightingale. After surveying the area with no idea where the older man was, Dick decided to go up to a group of workers near the back corner.
“Excuse me?” Dick says through the crushindo of laughter from the men on their break. They don't really seem to notice him, Dick pouted and jumped up onto the table to make himself seen. “Excuse me!” He shouts.
The group pauses and looks up at him with confusion written all over their faces. Dick smiled, “hi, i'm looking for Danny Nightingale. Do you know where he is?” He asked politely.
Several of the workers looked at eachother, some shrugged and laughed. One of the men spoke up, “where did you come from kid?”
Dick tilted his head to the side, “from upstairs?” Dick said like it was obvious. A few workers gave him a look that he couldn’t really decipher.
“And why are you looking for Nightingale?” The man asked with a cocked brow.
“Cuz we’re bird buddies!” Dick exclaimed enthusiastically with a big goofy smile. The men surrounding the table found the statement funny and started laughing, causing Dick to pout. “Can you just tell me where he is,” Dick demands, now getting annoyed.
Another man let out a snort, “sure kid,” he pointed over to a man who was crouched with his back facing the group, with his upper half obscured by the machine. “He’s over there doing something he’s probably not supposed to.”
Dick lifted a brow, “what do you mean, not supposed to?”
“Look kiddo, that kid’s crazy, but clever.” An older man spoke up, “The tech head, Dale, has him on cleanup detail but the kid keeps sticking his nose into things he's not supposed to. Managed to catch a meltdown before it could happen and Dale was furious. He's too scared to bring it up with the higher ups.” The old man smirked, “guy has it out for Nightingale but doesn't want to risk losing his job for letting the rookie fix something while also not wanting to give Danny the credit.”
Dick let out a hum in thought, thinking that there may be a case of abuse of power here. “How come?” He asked the man.
The man smirks, “the kid’s good, knows it too. It pisses Dale off!” He said with a laugh before going back to his chat with the others around him—unaware of the seed he planted in Dick’s mind.
Dick furrowed his brow, he may have to look into this further; maybe if B see’s he solved a case all by himself maybe he could stay out later on patrol! Dick smiled and waved goodbye to the men, despite them no longer paying him any mind, “thank you!” He shouts before running off towards danny.
He walked closer to the man who was half in the machine; a faint humming came from the man as he worked. Dick smirked, he snuck up behind the man, “hey, Bird Buddy!” He shouts, causing the man to jump and hit his head on the roof of the machine. Danny winced and sat back up, rubbing the spot he hit his head. He looks back with furrowed brows, though his expression changed when he saw Dick smiling up at him.
“Oh, hey Birdy, good to see you again.” Danny says with a smile.
“You too, Big Bird.” Dick said, beaming at his own nickname he made for Danny.
“Ha. Good one, kiddo," Danny paused, “actually aren't robins bigger than nightingales?” He asked, putting his hand onto his chin.
Robin mimicked him, “I don't know…. But it makes sense cuz you're bigger than me!” Dick says, explaining his reasoning.
Danny smirks, “got me there, Birdy. You wander off without Batman knowing again?” Danny asked as he grabbed a rag from his belt and began wiping grease off his hands.
“Nope!” Robin exclaims, “B and the others were having a meeting so before it reconvened, I asked if I could come see you. Batman said that I could as long as I wasn't bothering you.”
Danny smiled, “aww, you could never bother me.” He cood.
“So what are you doing?” Robin asked, head tilting to the side as he leaned trying to peek around danny.
“One of the zeta tubes is on the fritz so I thought I would take a look at it.”
“Do you know what's wrong?” Dick asked as he peeked into the open mouth of the machine.
Danny shrugged, “No, technically I'm not supposed to be working on it.” He explained.
“Then why are you working on it?” Dick asked with a raised brow.
“Because I may have a bird name but I'm not a chicken.” He says with a smirk at his own joke. Dick let out a cackle, “the guy who was working on it went on break and left all his tools out. So I took that as an invitation to finish what he started.”
“Won't you get in trouble?” Dick asked, looking around.
“People tend to ignore me here.” Danny says as he turns to look back into the zeta tube control panel that he was tinkering with.
“Why?” Dick asked, he already started making a mental catalog of everything he has heard so far like how Bruce taught him.
“Well, most people applied to this job directly to the Justice League, it's a very sought after job that takes endless amounts of screening to get. Only one in three people get hired. I, however, was scouted out directly from the dark knight himself.” Danny explained, “people think I didn't earn the job like they did.”
“Really?” Dick asked, “but if B went to you directly, that must mean you're good!” He exclaimed.
“Aww, thanks, Birdy,” Danny cood with a smile as he looked back over his shoulder, “I just have had lots of experience since I was a kid.”
“Your parents let you do that?” Dick asked before remembering what Danny said about his parents last time, “sorry….”
Danny paused and looked at Dick with confusion written all over his face before realization dawned on his face, “oh, don't be sorry kiddo, I got over them a long time ago.”
“But—don't you miss them?”
Danny sighed, turning back away from the zeta tube control panel to face Dick fully, “of course I do, they were my parents…. But they made it clear what their decision was…," Danny says looking down slightly. He sighed again, “it was so long ago that it doesn't matter anymore, I still have my big sister at least, and my two best friends. They helped me a lot and are the reason I came so far!” Danny paused, “and that's what really matters, the people who are there for you. Family doesn't always mean blood. Does that make sense?” Danny asked with a tilt of his head.
Dick thought about it, sure, his parents will always be his parents. But they were not his only family. All of Haly's circus was his family, from Zitka the elephant to Waldo the clown to even Mr.Haly himself! They were his family, but that wasn't all. His mind started to fit Bruce and Alfred into his idea of family. Dick smiled up at Danny, “yeah, that makes sense.”
Danny turned away from him, “good,” he says as he grabs a tool from the bag, going back into the mess of wires. “How was your day today, Robin?” He asked.
Dick smiled, “it was good, school was boring though,” He said with a groan as he threw his head back, “English is hard!”
Danny laughed, “I'm right there with ya, bud,” Danny exclames without turning away from what he was working on. “English was never my strongest subject either, but my favorite teacher I ever had was my high school English teacher.”
Dick lifted a brow, “really?” He asked incredulously, thinking about his own English teacher—who wore the same boring suit every day and would always stop Dick in the hall because he was “out of dress code” because of something he added to the uniform to make it look nicer.
Dick could hear the laughter in Danny's tone, “yeah, surprised me too when I realized it. His name was Mr.Lancer, he believed in me when no one else did. AND he cursed in book titles!” Danny exclaimed.
Dick laughed, “really, how?” He asked.
Danny sat back up and put his hands on his hips and exclaimed in a mocking voice, “Lord of the Flies! Mr.f—Nightingale, what are you doing!”
Dick laughed harder before falling onto his back and kicking his feet up in the air. Danny looked over his shoulder and smiled before going back to his work. The two continued to chat as Danny worked, dick talking about how boring his teacher is compared to the stories Danny had of Mr.Lancer. After thirty minutes or so, the familiar yellow light of the zeta-beam began to glow on the control panel.
Danny sat back and laughed, “Ha. Got it!” He exclaimed, proud he managed to figure out the tech.
“Awsome!” Dick exclaimed, jumping up and stretching his legs.
Danny followed suit and stood up, his joints popping in protest as he stretched. Danny looked down at dick and smiled, “cmon, kiddo, let's get out of here before the first guy shows back up!” Danny declares as he puts everything back the way he found it.
Dick laughed and followed Danny like a duckling as the man went and moved on to his next task for the day.
@cannibalisticphantom @stealingyourbones @akikkobara @spookytragedyshark @jaguarthecat @vythika96 @fae-of-the-wild @spikedlynx @cicibunbuns @redhoneysugarorange @nottmuchtopost @rosecinnamonbun
#watchtower worker!danny#watchtower tech!Danny#danny fenton#cute#fun#dpxdc#dcxdp#ficlit#danny nightingale#fenton nightingale#robin!dick#dick Grayson#bruce wayne#justice league#uwu#fluff#:3#part 2 is here!
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The Player and The Cheerleader
Billy Hargrove x Cheerleader Reader
Summary: All Billy thinks cheerleading is that's it's just flips and splits. The view changes when he has a run in with a certain Hawkins High School cheerleader.
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Billy didn't care for anyone by any means. Either it be in Indiana or California. If he doesn't see you as someone worth his time then he didn't talk to you or give you the time of day. One of those groups in specific were cheerleaders. From his point of view they were only pretty girls to look at, that's pretty much how everyone treated the cheerleader at this point. Pretty things to look at.
The cheerleaders sometimes had to share the gym with the basketball team. Which did peeve some the guys on the team but as long as the cheerleaders were pretty they could handle it. But there was one odd ball on the cheer team, the captain. Always mouthing off the players when they got to close to the cheerleaders or a ball got to close to hitting one of them.
"Hey! Shit for brains!" A voice can be heard from then other side of the gym. "I thought the point of the game was to get the ball in the basket?!"
"Jeezu..." Tommy huffed. "Can you seriously be pissed about the same thing every time? It's just a ball." He answered to you. Clearly tired of your constant shouting at the basketball team when a ball would go the wrong way.
"And it's just balls between your legs, and they can just as easily deflate." You sassed back. To Billy, it was almost comical to watch. You with the tough guy act, puffing up your chest to a dude way taller than you with colorful pompoms in each hand on your hips.
"What a bitch..." Tommy huffed again.
"Oh get over it." Billy snapped. "What's captain pompoms gonna do?" He laughed at his own statement. Like said before he found the whole conversation comical-
WHAM!
A basketball went flying right into Billy Hargroves head. He snapped his head around to see the who had the nerve to hit him. His eyes met with captain pompoms. The two had a stare off. That's what it felt like for the rest of practice. The two practically eyeing each other the entire time.
After that stunt was over, after constant staring at one another, Billy had only one reaction in mind. A big one.
The next day followed. Billy knew where he could cut you off and corner you, in-between Mr. Johnson's chemistry class and Mrs. Shoffer's English literature class. It happened fast no one could react to it, actually you doubt anyone saw it happen. What you thought was just another normal day of school turned out to be more than that. A harsh hold took your arm, taking you away from the crowd into the more secluded part of the hall. Where you came face to face with a fuming Billy. His jaw was clenched and eyes held anger.
"What, you think you're real funny for the shit you pulled yesterday?" He interrogated. "Try it again see what fuckin happens..." His threats did not stop. Well his empty threats. As much as you are terrified of what he could do, you knew he'd never act on them. Your brave front was standing strong. Taking in every threat, comment, and remark he could throw at you. To get a reaction, if you were a guy you would have answered with your fists at his first remark. But you are not. You are you. You knew the exact thing that would make him even more angry.
" You are nothing but scuff on the gym floor, and that's all you will be."
Billy did not like that one bit. Who does this bitch think she is? His fist rose into the air, readying to strike. The force came down, you felt the air brush past your face, to only make contact with a metal locker. The sound ricocheted through the hall.
You open up your eyes. Now, again, staring at him. Anger was not held in his eyes anymore. If was fear and sadness, to you it was peculiar expression to see on his face. The actions that just happened finally caught up to you, you inhale deeply not knowing you stopped breathing. Everything caught up to you.
SLAP!
Your hand came down, striking Billy Hargrove in the face. Hard enough to leave a mark. Not knowing that one had just been healed from another hand. "What the hell is your problem?" You yelled, agitated. "God, you fuckin creep." You make your way back to your class leaving Billy stunned. He didn't know what to do. He has never had someone react to him like that before. It intrigued him. He had an interest in you now.
After that encounter Billy made it his mission yo agitate you as much as possible. I mean, how else are you supposed to show someone you like them. From poking you with a pencil in class, purposefully missing the hoop so the ball bounces into your direction, anything at all just so you could look at him. He was succeeding and he was royally pissing you off. Until on fateful autumn day, everyone had gone home for the day. Except for the extracurriculars that took place after school. Two of those being basketball and cheer practice. Just as the practices were about to start, Billy took notice that you weren't with the cheer team. Which he thought was odd, but instead he chose to go smoke a cigarette before practice. He made his way to the small alley like way that was outside the gym that lead to the track field. And the sight before him made him stop in his tracks. there you stood cheer practice outfit and all with a lit cigarette hanging from your lip.
"I thought cheerleaders didn't smoke?" Billy joked to you, giving you his famous smirk.
"And I thought shit stayed in toilets, but I guess I was wrong since you're here." You said taking a huff of your cig.
"Damn, always ready with a comeback are you?" Billy said, lighting his cigarette.
"Why are you messing with me Hargrove?"
"Ouch, last name basis now sweets?"
"Shut up." You won't deny it, that dumb nickname that he started calling you grew on you. "Is this because of me smacking you?"
"No."
"Was it me hitting you with a basketball?"
"No." He said blankly again.
"Then what is it?"
Billy took a huff of his cigarette then looked you in your eyes. No hate or anger, something you can only describe as adoration.
"I find you interesting." Was his only answer.
"What?" you were confused by this answer. What was so interesting about you that made Billy intrigued. " Your like curious about me or something?"
"Exactly."
"You know curiosity killed the cat, Hargrove." You sassed.
"And satisfaction brought it back, and I am not satisfied yet so get used to me sweets." He said taking his cig a stomping it out onto the ground walking away.
You grumbled at his response, inhaling the last of your cigarette with blushing cheeks. Stomping out your cigarette then making your way into practice. 'Why does this asswipe make me blush'.
...........................................................................
Weeks of this teasing have gone by. Everyday Billy would find a new way to make you mad, blush, or embarrassed to get a reaction out of you. He claimed "It's because you so cute." Which made you blush even more. Gosh, you couldn't stand half of the guys at this school. Why was Billy the only one making you feel this way?
Truth be told, Billy had seen you around way before he had met you. How you walk down the hall with your head held high, looking away in disgust at the "popular" kids, over all not conforming to what a cheerleader is by Hawkins view point. You fought, yelled, got in people faces. Billy love all of it, it made him excited. Excited to talk to you and ask you questions, even ones you deem are stupid. All he wanted to do was to be around you. Damn, he loved it in a way.
Practice had ended for the day leading off into the weekend. A light rain pour had come down, everyone else had a ride to get them home. Everyone except you, well you did but he was running very late. Billy made his way outside to find you standing in the walk way waiting to be picked up. Cigarette hanging from your mouth.
"What are you doing here?" Billy asked.
"Waiting." You simply put.
"Do you want a ride?" He asked.
"No, I have a ride." You said. "But he's running late."
"What your boyfriend?" Billy said, the words had jealousy behind them.
"No." You sighed. "My brother you dipshit."
"oh..." He sighed. A silence fell between you two. Not uncomfortable, but nice enough for you two to be around each other. But Billy had something building in his stomach, a nervous feeling. He hated it. He needed to tell you something.
"Hey." He called to you, you turn your head to face him. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened."
"What?" You were confused by what he just said.
"I said I'm sorry, did you not hear me?" Billy said, He turned his body to face you. "I said I'm sorry." You just stood there silent. Still taking in the fact he is saying sorry. "I'm sorry that I almost punched you into a locker. I realized I was acting like someone I didn't want to be, and you calling me on my shit. It made me look at you differently. I noticed more about you. How you always make sure the other cheerleaders are okay, how you genuinely care about the people you have around you, and you don't take any shit. And- shit I'm bad at this." He's now embarrassed by everything he just said. Heat rises to his cheeks and ears.
You step toward him, placing your hand on his arm. "I thought you were doing pretty well." You smiled, comforting him in a way. He just looked at you. You never smiled at him directly but now that your smile was intended for him. 'damn' He wants you to smile at him all the time.
"Do you want to go on a date?" He asked straight out. You were shocked by his forwardness, but not entirely surprised.
"You want to go on a date with me?"
"Hell yeah, why wouldn't I?" He made it seem like you were speaking a different language. "Listen one date is all I ask, her if you still think I'm a piece of shit I'll stop everything that I'm doing."
Your smile grew even wider. "I would love to go on a date with you Billy."
"Dang, back on first name basis already? Looks like I'm getting a second date already." He joked to you, in turn caused you to laugh.
For the remainder of your time you and Billy talked till you had been picked up. You both talked about anything and everything. It was pure bliss, you loved every second of it. You both were abruptly interrupted by the honking of your brothers car.mYou said your goodbyes to make your way to the car. The smile that held your face did not drop. I didn't drop on Billy's either, when getting home Max found it incredibly disturbing to see her step brother so giddy.
That following night Billy arrived to your house to take you on your promised date. Which one date turned into another and another and another. Till it reached throughout the whole school that Billy Hargrove and the cheer captain were finally official. With many guys questioning Billy as to why he picked you out of everyone, to which he said if they insulted you again he had no problem with dealing with them himself. Girls just snuffed their noses up to you since you now made Billy officially off the market. Not like you cared, he's your boyfriend now and you have him all to yourself. So you could say everything did work out in the end. You and Billy have each other.
"So I guess we have Tommy to thank since he is the reason we met?" You joked.
"Hell no, I would have went after you even if you didn't hit me with that basket ball." He smirk.
"Jeez, you are something Billy." You smiled, leaning into him to seal your lips in a kiss. Yeah, nothing could beat this.
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#billy hargrove#stranger things#fanfiction#steve harrington#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove x fem reader#gn reader#billy hargrove x gn!reader#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x female#billy hargrove fluff#enemies to lovers#cheerleader#chrissy cunningham#stranger things billy#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargove x reader#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove fanfiction#max mayfield#robin buckley#eddie munson
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THERE’S ONLY ONE..COUCH ★ CS55
pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader (she/her)
summary: You and Carlos have to sleep at Lando’s place after a party, but the guest room has no furniture, you have to sleep in the living room. So, there’s no ‘only one bed’… there’s only one couch.
warning: teasing, carlos speaking spanish.
word count: 1.5k (it's 1.555 and i love that)
note: this is my first “one shot” ever, i am SCARED. also asking for part two is allowed in this one lmao, tell me if you would like that :)
Three days ago, Lando Norris had won his first race in Formula 1 and because celebrations were never-ending to him, he had to do something with his closest friends two days after the big obnoxious party. That’s how you and Carlos ended up in Lando’s apartment in Monaco.
Now, the thing is, Lando was the one who bought the plane tickets, then sent them to you that morning, he was in a rush since you were his only guests who didn’t reside in Monaco. And you were also in a rush, so no return tickets or hotel. And even if you could afford a night in Monaco, you were still drunk-out-off-your-mind at this point.
So.
"Hey Lando, do you think that um... I stay the night? If it isn’t a bother, obviously.” You said, words collide with each other.
“Oh, of course, mate! I already told Carlos you guys could crash here.” Lando says with a new bottle of wine, you laugh at his drunk mannerisms. "But, the guest room has no furniture yet, so you have the couch or the floor.” the brunette explains.
"The couch is fine," Carlos answers behind you.
Lando raised an eyebrow "For you two?"
You understood the doubt, he was asking if you would be comfortable. The brit didn’t have that teasing tone when he sees couples interact. On that note, you exchanged glances with Carlos and he shrugged before nodding.
"Yes," you both said at the same time.
Charles choked on some wine, laughing. The Monegasque had been talking with Lando when you approached him. “Sorry, mate, I just like that they get along so well.” He clarifies and winks at you.
You rolled your eyes, Charles has been like this for months, insisting you should date Carlos, saying you both are far into each other. You tell him he is just your friend, you’re his engineer, but Charles Leclerc can be very stubborn.
“Yes, well, I think I'm going to the balcony for air, I'll see you later.” You babble and Charles lets out a big laugh. “Thank you again, Lan”
“I'm going with you.” Carlos says.
“What?”
"I'm going to take some air with you," Carlos explains to you and you nod, exiting the scene side by side, leaving behind Charles’ victorious smile and new gossip for Lando.
"I'm going to sleep on the floor," Carlos says as you approach the balcony.
“No, you won’t. You have media duty to attend this week, Carlitos, please.”
“I'll be fine, mujer!” he smiles, surrounding your shoulders with his arm “I've been doing it for a while now.”
“And that’s exactly why you shouldn't” you exclaim “If it bothers you, I'll take the floor.”
Carlos looks at you as if you just committed a crime and shakes his head. You laugh, snuggling a little into the Spaniard's arm, feeling warm and safe around him. Yeah, Carlos made you feel safe.
“Carlos, as part of the Ferrari team, I don't want you sleeping on the floor.” You complain, again.
You have been having this discussion for about three minutes. It was simple, Sainz said that he was used to it and you attacked, saying that there was room for both of you on the couch.
“Cariño, there is no room for both of us on the couch.” He repeats for the thousand time “Just lay down and sleep, I'm fine.”
"Sainz, stop it. There is enough room here, so you come to sleep here, where there is enough space, or I will make sure you can’t seat, rest or sleep in beds and couches for the rest of the season"
At that moment, Carlos turned to look at you with wide eyes, it was a funny statement, but he loved when you went all fearless for him.
Getting lost in his thoughts, Carlos gave you enough time to believe you had won the battle; so when he looked at you again, you already had a satisfied smile on your face, and he knew he had no way out.
Carlos sighed. "Okay, you win, just promise that you won't do that, please”
You looked at him tenderly and smiled. It was a peculiar smile, it was full of yearning and confessions. It wasn’t a smile you gave a lot, at least not to people who weren’t Carlos Sainz Jr. Oh, but Carlos was too blinded in his own fascination to notice.
“It’s okay, for now, I'll leave your furniture alone.”
After that, you shared a couple of laughs with the Spaniard before sitting on the sofa, moving the cushions aside, and putting down the pillows Lando gave you.
You lay down, turning to Carlos —whose eyes haven’t left you— making a small signal for him to lay down next to you.
The Spaniard approached quietly, laying down. And, it turns out, the couch wasn't as big as it looked, a quarter of Carlos's body was outside it, and it was somewhat uncomfortable.
"Hey, do you think you can move a little?" Carlos asked in a soft tone, to which you automatically agreed.
You both started to move and complain, because when you moved, he did, making you uncomfortable. You moved again. It was still messy.
This is how a few minutes passed between complaints and movement, at least before you fell directly on top of Carlos, after that, everything was silence, surprise, and closeness. Bodies so close you felt the other’s skin burn through your clothes.
You wanted to burn.
“I told you there wasn't enough space.” Carlos whispered, mockingly.
“Are you uncomfy?” You asked with annoyance, he shakes his head. "Then you're fine, I'm not uncomfy either."
For a moment, silence rules the room. Quiet enough to hear Carlos’ heart beating against his chest, you breathe deeply, so deeply that he feels it.
"You’re heart is racing, honey," you whisper, pet name slipping right through. You normally use it to joke around, and you think you are, but at some point it feels like you’re supposed to say it.
His eyes dart over your face, looking for something he knows he will find. “So it’s yours.”
You see it then. Gaze drowned in desire, pupils dilated just like yours. There’s also fear—fear of making the wrong move, of dooming something that has barely started.
You bring your fingers to Carlos’ face, caressing his jaw in the most delicate way you know.
“I want... Mi vida, can I kiss-” You don’t let him finish his question, your lips are on his.
Carlos holds you by the neck, bringing you closer. His face tilts slightly, kissing deeper. His tongue asks for permission to play with yours as butterflies find home in your stomach. You can feel Carlos melting from the taste of you, loving the feeling, the intimacy of the moment.
This felt so right yet so wrong. It was strange. One of his engineers and him. If any of the team knew, this could end bad, would bring a thousand problems, attention none of you wanted for each other. But they didn't know.
Carlos felt too good for it to be a bad thing.
He wants to kiss you for as long as you let him. He wants to pour his heart into every single one.
He wants it to last forever and that’s why splitting is the worst part of it. That moment when your body asks you for more, but needs to breathe. When it asks to be pleased, but can’t stop begging for mercy. You want his lips to be mercy. But you find air.
Carlos looks at you in fascination, his hands instinctively falling on your hips. Something stops him.
“Can I touch you?” He asks and you nod.
The Spaniard’s eyes sparkle, surrendering to intimacy. His fingers begin to slide down your curves, slow and fearful, trying to do everything not to disturb you. You who can’t be more eager.
“Your curves are… beautiful” He whispers, looking for the words he wanted, “So perfect.”
“Carlos,”
“Si, mi vida?” He whispers into your ear, biting the lobe gently. This small contact causes your back to arch slightly. Carlos speaks again “So, so, beautiful.”
“Carlos, please,” you beg, it was unnecessary to ask if you wanted to stop or continue.
"Oh, what I would do to you if we weren't at Lando’s place." That little innuendo seems to leave Carlos’ lips by accident, realization making his face burn.
You just smile. Wanting more, wanting his words to be spoken with promise.
“Want to know something, Sainz? We have a two-week break after this race, and I have no plans.” That makes Carlos smile, closing the gap between you once again. You wonder if it would actually happen, if it’s not you making empty promises.
“Then I’ll have to get you to Spain.” Carlos whispers, kissing your neck, finding comfort in it. “Good night, mi vida.”
“Good night, my love.”
translations:
linda pretty
cariño sweetheart
mi vida my life
# “ ࣭⸰ ★ my writings !#carlos sainz#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz f1#carlos sainz 55#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz blurb#carlos sainz drabble#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x you#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 imagine#formula one#f1#f1 ferrari#mentioned#lando norris#charles leclerc
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You're cuddled up against your boyfriend, Tsukishima, as a christmas movie neither of you are paying attention to plays in the background. When you look up at him you see he's already staring at you. His soft side is reserved for select people, so seeing the smile on his face as he gazes at you makes your stomach twist.
“You ok?” you ask when he refuses ro look away from you. He answers your question with one of his own.
“When did you first fall in love with me?”
The question shocks you so take a moment to think. There's been so many moments over the last few years when you've realised how much love you have in your heart for this man. There is one, from before you were even together, that stands out to you.
“A few weeks after we first met”
“that soon?” he asks.
“are you saying you didn't fall in love with me quickly?” you responded in mock offence.
“no, I fell in love with you at first sight,” he says, completely serious. The firm statement silences your dramatics immediately. “but I was such an asshole when we first met, I thought it would've taken you a lot longer to warm up to me”
He's not entirely wrong but you shake your head and he wordlessly turns off the television to prove to you that he's paying attention. You shift to get a little more comfortable before you start the story of the day you fell for him.
You set up to start working in the cafe on your university campus, you hear a pair of footsteps approach the counter and turn to see Tsukishima leaning on it.
"I know your shift doesn't start for another 10 minutes but can I please can I get a coffee or something, I'm exhausted" he looks as if he were attempting to look cool and intimidating but he's failing miserably. He stumbles over his words and almost loses his balance as his arm slips on the counter. He turns red in embarrassment but you think he looks cute. The nervous dork is way more appealing to you than the cold asshole - even if the whole tsundere thing is hot.
"Of course, it'll be our little secret," you say, turning to start making his drink. you're not usually this forward but you're enjoying making the stoic man flustered. "So what did you want?" At first, he mumbles, almost ashamed of his order. He usually doesn't care about the opinion of others but the idea of you laughing at him makes his stomach feel funny. When you lean a little closer to hear him, it makes his chest feel tight. He repeats his order carefully so he doesn't completely fuck up his sentence.
"I'll have a caramel iced latte," he says, waiting to see your reactions. His friends like to make fun, saying they expected him to get a black coffee and be done. You smile and nod at him before starting to line his cup with caramel sauce. He watches you make his drink with a small smile. Despite how awkward things were right now, he likes the idea of seeing you every morning.
You turn around with his drink and jokingly ask if he has a sweet tooth but the way he subtly looks you up and down when he says yes makes you nervous and you clumsily drop his drink. His eyes widen at the noise and he immediately feels bad for pathetically attempting to flirt with you. He rounds the counter, wordlessly helping you clean up. He mutters a quiet apology, fearing he made you uncomfortable but he relaxes a little when you laugh it off. You make him another drink and he insists that if you're not going to let him pay for this one then you should let him pay for the one you dropped. You cave and take his money. As he leaves you ask if he'll be here at the same time tomorrow and even though he doesn't answer, his smile says he will.
“that's it? I completely and utterly humiliated myself in front of you!” he says, pulling you from your own imagination.
“Yeah you did but it was cute. You showed me part of the real Tsukki” you coo ruffling his hair which earns you a sarcastic eye roll from your boyfriend. The action pulls a laugh from you which Tsukishima can't help but mirror. Seeing you happy makes him happy. “You are a little nerd tho” you add, provoking the blonde to playfully wrestle you onto your back. He raises his eyebrow as a dare to try pushing him even further but you just simply decide to ask him a question instead.
“Did you really fall in love with me at first sight?” you ask. His cheeks flush red as he averts his gaze.
“As soon as you walked through the classroom door I was a goner” he says, putting his weight on you so he could hide his face in your neck. You're about to respond when the alarm you set buzzes signalling it's midnight. The date flashes on your lock screen and you look up at your boyfriend with a grin on your face. “Merry Christmas, Baby” he says leaning in to kiss you.
“Merry Christmas Kei”
#merry chrismas#also this is my return to fanfic!#hello!#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu x reader#tsukishima kei#tsukki x reader#☁️.tsukki#☁️.fluff
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max the extra wag l Max Verstappen
a/n: this is so bad im sorry but it just came to my mind! I hope to post the second part of the Lando break up series tomorrow, hopefully after he gets on the podium!!!!
pairing: Max Verstappen x female reader
genre: fluff
FIND THE REST OF MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE
summary: you can't keep up with all the drama outside the track, but your boyfriend keeps you updated.
It's not like you didn't check social media or that your algorithm didn't show you edits of your boyfriend driving, trauma dumping, looking cute and hot as always, but after a couple of weeks being exploited as an intern, you didn't really have the time to keep up with the usual gossip from Max's work.
Monaco GP, 2023
It was great to be home. The best of the Monaco Grand Prix was that you could sleep on your own bed, you and Max could walk back home hand in hand, stopping to buy things you may need: sweets to fill your purse to binge while sitting on the garage, the special herbal blend Max liked to have before going to bed, condoms because the last box was almost empty.
Adored and precious routine. almost.
You had to admit Monaco made you a little more nervous, not only because of the narrow streets, but a lot of important, well-known people were all over the place, and Max was the center of it all. Even after years of relationship, you still felt nervous when he looked at your with glowing eyes.
This is my girlfriend, (y/n). She has this great internship because she's the best of her class. I'm sure you've met before.
When all that was over, you chatted a bit with known photographers from the paddock, and right when you were speaking to one of them, you noticed the special white and red look of Charles Leclerc, walking hand in hand with a girl.
It didn't catch your attention immediately, but when you were back home, comfortably sitting on your bed reading an article for work while Max viewed the photographs of the day, the image sneaked in your thoughts.
"You didn't tell me about Charles and Charlotte!" you released the statement a bit harsher than expected, Max's eyebrows furrowing.
"Tell you what?" Max was confused and his face showed it, it was funny.
"Charles Leclerc? Charlotte Siné? Sounds familiar?" you said playfully rolling your eyes.
"I know who they are, schat, but I don't know the thing I was supposed to tell you about? They broke up months ago, they even announced it on instagram, although it was completely unnecessary if you ask me," The last sentence painted a smile on your face, recognizing the change of the tone of his voice, posture and facial expressions, he was ready to gossip.
"But I saw them walking together today! They were walking towards the Ferrari garage, they were holding hands and everything!"
Right in that moment, you observed how his expression changed before realizing a chuckle, his loud and gorgeous laugh that instantly made your insides flutter because it came from his stomach, his lungs; the purest laugh, your favorite.
"She is his new girlfriend, babe," Max told you and your jaw dropped. "Checo said the same thing to me and Daniel when they walked in together for the first time, Checo was sure it was Charlotte until Charles introduced us before the press conference," Now he was in full gossip mode: sitting straighter, phone left behind, blue eyes open wide.
"I'm speechless," you told him, repeating what you saw in the morning over and over again, but your feelings suddenly deviated from surprise to betrayal, playfully hitting Max's thigh. "Honey, why didn't you tell me that sooner?!"
Barcelona GP, 2023
Today you entered the paddock alone, coming straight from the hotel room after landing just an hour ago. You were sad to miss Friday, but your boss said it was vital for you to be in the office on Friday, insisting the meetings couldn't be held on Zoom.
You knew it was because he's a Mercedes fan and hoped Max would be distracted without having you there.
As if. your presence wasn't very vital during the weekend and you were well aware of it.
Admiring the amount of fans cheering for their favorite drivers, a sea of red Ferrari merchandising and flags, you walked by the Ferrari garage to greet Carlos, letting him know you (and Max) were cheering for him to get P2.
P1 belonged to your boyfriend, always.
Quickly scanning the drivers lounge you noticed the Sainz family, very close to each other, Carlos Sainz Sr. listening to everything the engineers were saying about his son's strategy and car.
But something was missing, and it was easy to notice because every friend and family of Carlos was there.
With that idea roaming, you reached your destination, grabbing a sugar free Red Bull before finding your boyfriend with his suit hanging from his hips, tightly hugging him from his waist while carefully extending your neck to meet his lips.
Max was required to stay longer on the track, Christian letting him know they added a meeting to discuss strategy because of the changing wether.
This left you with almost an hour to kill; your head resting on his thighs as he carefully juggling.
"Max, have you heard anything from the party last week? after the gp?" this got Max's attention, already knowing you had a piece of information.
"I know Lando almost hooked up with a girl from Latin America, from Chile I think? but nothing happened because his brother was staying on his flat. Charles and... ex girlfriend 2.0? made it official. Checo didn't go anywhere because last year still haunts him..." Max was mentally remembering every piece of information he'd heard during the week. "Oh, and I think Carlos was with a girl that wasn't his girlfriend? Christian said they didn't do anything, but Max Fewtrell said they left together,"
"Interesting because you know who's not in the Ferrari garage? at his home race? Isa," You told Max, which caused him to drop the colorful balls he was juggling.
"No! So it's true? he cheated?" He whisper shouted.
"Maybe they've been broken up for some time, now that I think about it I haven't seen her since testing?"
Neither Max nor you heard when someone walked in, calling for Max. Because now Max's head was resting on your legs as your fingers caressed his hair, his hands moving around as he came up with a possible theory, tying loose ends and trying to remember anything he'd heard.
The subject was forgotten once you arrived to the hotel room; lights off, eyes almost closing, but Max gasped when he remembered something Alonso mentioned during a press conference, apparently after hearing Lance talking with Esteban.
"Lance said Esteban and his girlfriend are over, do you think it's true?" Max asked you, and this brought up another thing.
"Did you hear anything about Lance cheating or whatever at his sister's wedding?" now you asked him, bodies coming closer to each other.
Now sleep was long forgotten and the only important thing was the gossipy whispers, the loud giggle leaving Max's lips when something sounded too ridiculous, and the security of knowing you'd never be the subject of those rumors.
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen au#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 x reader#max verstappen fic#max the wag
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IN THE COMPANY OF THE STARS
pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader
summary: amongst the peaceful covering of the astronomy tower, you find an unlikely comfort in the presence of none other than theodore nott. (1.2k wc)
authors note: first little drabble to bring me back out of my writers slump - and who better than boyfriend no.1 to do so??
"Is this seat taken?" You turned around at the voice, to see none other than Theodore Nott standing behind you, his hands in his pockets, indicating at the space next to you.
Technically, the seat he wanted wasn't a seat at all. It's a part of the Astronomy Tower floor, of which you were sitting on, your feet dangling over the edge. You had a book in your lap, which had been left long forgotten as you looked ahead of you at the stars which danced upon the night sky. It really was the prettiest place in all of Hogwarts.
Slowly, you shook your head, and he nodded in response, taking a seat beside you. It's strange, you thought to yourself, watching him closely as he too dangled his legs out in front of him. The two of you knew each other from classes and such, yet had only interacted a couple of times, usually to ask for a quill or something along those lines.
You realised then just how weird you must have looked, watching him so intensely, and so you forced your attention back to the landscape around you, focusing on the trees ahead.
A few beats. 1, 2-
"You come here often?" he broke the silence first, turning to look at you. You hadn’t noticed until that moment just how startlingly beautiful his eyes were - dead, but with a softness behind them. It was entrancing, to say the least.
"Yeah," you answered, meeting his eyes. "The stars don't ask too many questions, so they're pretty great company when I need some peace." You hadn't meant for the comment to be funny, yet you watched as a chuckle escaped his lips: a beautiful sound, really.
"Didn't think you'd ever be a quiet person," he half-laughed, his eyes crinkling slightly. "Anyone could hear your voice from a mile off."
"Even the loudest of us need some quiet, sometimes," you responded, shrugging your shoulders, and swinging your feet slightly. "This must be a regular spot for you then, huh, given your notorious 'Mr Silent' status?"
The statement was true - this was the most you had ever heard the boy spoke, to anyone. It was his turn to now shrug, before leaning back on his hands. "You could say that."
You assumed the conversation had reached its natural end, and so you took the book you had on your lap and opened it to the page you'd bookmarked, and began reading.
"Romeo and Juliet?" A voice from next to you read, and you turned once more to see Theodore now reading the cover of the book, raising a brow in your direction. "You read muggle literature?"
"Shakespeare is one of the greats, I'd be stupid not to," you answered. Upon seeing the look on his face, you continued, "Don't tell me you've never read Shakespeare."
He shook his head, and you laughed, endearingly. "You are seriously missing out, Nott. Muggle or not, he's amazing. A real genius."
"Well, talk to me, then," Theodore looked down at you, his eyes piercing through your own. "Tell me about this guy and his books."
"They're plays, really," you started, almost unsure as to whether or not to continue. But he looked at you, almost daring you to continue, and so you did.
It was unusual for you to find someone so interested in talking to you, especially about something as niche as the works of William Shakespeare, but then again, Theodore Nott really wasn't like anyone you'd ever met before.
"-this book was one of the first my mother gave to me, and so its always been my favourite," you finished eventually, your voice growing slightly hoarse from talking so much. "Sorry for talking your ear off."
"No worries," he said in return, sending a small smile your way. "The b-play, certainly sounds interesting."
Looking between him and the book, you reached out to him, book still in your grasp. "Here, take it. To borrow."
He looked at you, almost questioning you with his eyes. "Why?"
"Everyone needs to read Shakespeare at least once in their lives, and I'm guessing none of your friends own any of his works, right?" He shook his head once again, and you shook your own in mock exasperation. "Honestly."
You coaxed him once again until he took the book from your hands, and you watched as he felt the cover of it. "It's a bit battered, because it's the one my mother got me when I was younger. And I have written inside it, so you may want to ignore that as well."
You got up, book officially out of your hands, and you dusted off your robes. Finally ready to go, you made to leave, until he called out your name. You turned around to look back at him.
"Thank you." was all he said, a smile lighting up his features with genuity.
"No problem, Theodore-"
"Theo."
"Theo. No worries, Theo," it was your turn to smile as you turned to leave, leaving the Slytherin boy alone.
— —— — — —
"A boy left this for you." A small first year girl approached you no more than a week later, a box in their arms, which they had outstretched towards you. You were sat by the window in your common room, Transfiguration homework in your lap as you worked through the questions McGonagall had set you.
"Did the boy leave a name?" you questioned, looking cynically at the box in front of you, which you had taken from the girl.
"No, he said you'd know who he is." The girl gave you a small fleeting smile, before skipping off, presumably to go and sit with her friends.
The box was noticeably small, and could be carrying nothing more than a couple of things, you thought to yourself, as you carefully opened it.
As soon as you saw the contents of it, though, a smile spread across your face, and you had no doubts of who the box was from. You had never pegged Theodore Nott to be one for dramatics, so you couldn't understand why he had decided to return your book in a box, but nonetheless you appreciated the sentiment.
You picked up the battered copy, the pages just as beautifully crumpled as before, and you found yourself smiling again. A note lay underneath the book, and you picked it up to read what it said.
The play was great - you clearly have good taste. Shakespeare truly is one of the greats. Astronomy tower at 8? — T.N.
Delicately folding the note and putting it in your robe pocket, you took back the copy of Romeo & Juliet in your hands, and began to flip through the pages.
His chicken scratch handwriting tattooed the pages - not overlapping the actual text or your writing, but still written as nearly as he could in numerous corners of the book.
You laughed as you read through a few of them, most of which were his sardonic comments about Romeo's idiocy, and in turn Juliet's naivety.
Eventually closing the book, you set it aside, and smiled to yourself. You weren't exactly sure how you'd found a friend in Theodore Nott, but you were certainly glad that you had.
#daltonsluvr#imagines#multifandom#multifandom imagines#harry potter#x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#theo nott#theodore nott oneshot#imagine#writing#harry potter imagine#harry potter x reader#harry potter oneshot#hogwarts#hp#lorenzo zurzolo
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IN BETWEEN
summary: just two people in love
pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader
warnings: just love 🤍
no one would ever be able to come between you and quinn hughes. that was not a regular ‘statement,’ it was a fact. you and quinn hughes were hopelessly in love with one another since you were freshmen.
freshmen year was when you and quinn met. you met him in your algebra class. he was seated in front of you and you couldn’t see a single thing due to him being there.
you tapped his shoulder softly. his body turned to look at you, confusion plastered across his face. embarrassed, you spoke,
“can you lean down slightly? i can’t see the board too well..”
quinns confusion turned to a soft smile. he nodded and leaned down slightly. you pushed the bridge of your glasses up further on your nose and began to write your notes down.
after that day, he would lean down the entire class so you could see. it became a thing he liked to do for you.
a week later, he turned to you.
“can i steal your notes? im behind in this class and i cant fail or im out of hockey for the season.” he asked desperately.
that was the first thing you learned about him. you nodded and handed him your notebook. he smiled and turned around, copying your notes into his notebook.
you started to hand your notes to him everyday, because you took notice that he barely paid attention anyways.
it didn’t take long for you both to become friends. he began to see who you were, you began to see who he was. you weren’t the pretty popular girl for nothing. you were kindhearted, you cared. you tried.
he wasn’t the hockey jock who hated everyone. no, he may not have been a people-person, but he was kind as well. he meant well no matter what.
plus, you loved his family. his brothers quickly became yours. his parents, quickly became your second set. his family became yours, and yours became his.
he loved your mom, she was the sweetest woman ever. he loved your other mom, shes where you got the smarts from. and he loved your ten year old brother.
you two adapted to one another, quickly becoming each others constant. you circled around him, he circled around you. no one could come between you two.
“oh please, he doesn’t answer me that fast.” you’d tell your girl friends.
your friend, priya, rolled her eyes. “yes he does! he barely lets it ring.” she told.
“call him, right now.” she instructed.
you felt flustered, but did what you were told nonetheless. you shakily held your phone in your hand, clicking on his contact and pressing call.
priya was right, because not even two seconds later did he answer. “hello?”
priya gave you a look. your eyes widened and immediately you put the phone up to your ear.
“hey, quinny, uhm— what time does practice end?”
it wasn’t until junior year that people could see how in love you two were. the way quinn would look at you with such a longing gaze. the way he would light up when your name was mentioned, even if it was technically about someone else. the thought of you made him joyful.
then there was the way you looked at him. how you stared at him a little bit too much longer than you should’ve. the way you would get excited hearing the word ‘hockey’ because you thought of him.
you two were inseparable. and finally, you two began to date in the middle of junior year. years of longing for dates, late night talks, kisses, were finally over, because you got them whenever you wanted.
your relationship with quinn was one for the books. he’d laugh at your eyes, your smile, at the glasses on your face, but not because he thought you looked weird or funny, but because he finally had you.
you loved listening to him at night, getting the side of him no one else does. you listen to him call you things that make your stomach erupt into butterflies. beautiful, gorgeous, funny, smart. hes never seen anything or anyone like you.
in the relationship, you were the bold one.
“im new at this..” he admitted, embarrassed.
you were his first real relationship. he was scared to mess up. he was scared you would run off, or find someone better.
but you’d hold his face with both of your hands and place a kiss onto his lips, reassuring him that he was all you wanted.
sparks would fly when you kissed.
you both lasted to present time. you were still so helplessly in love with him just like you were in highschool.
just like you thought, he was always there, until he wasn’t because he was on a roadie. you hated his roadies, having him leave.
you hate when hes away, scared something will happen while hes at a game. you were already scared shitless when you watched jack fall into the boards and sit out a few games. who knows how you’d feel if quinn were to get hurt.
he hates when you cry. you cry every night before he leaves for a roadie, scared. he holds you tight, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. he was also, so in love with you still.
but you still got what you wanted. more everything in between. you got the love you deserved, and so did he.
tags (perm): @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @outrunangelss , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @p3nislawd , @queenmendes !
#hockey#nhl imagine#nhl#nhl hockey#jack hughes#quinn hughes#luke hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes imagine#in between#vancover canucks#vancouver
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[8:39 PM]
☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️
genre: fluff drabble
pov: 2nd person
description: You decided to ask your boyfriend an innocent question. You didn't expect him to answer so honestly.
pairing: bf!Seungmin x gn!reader (reader wears makeup)
warnings: swearing (just one!)
word count: 476
©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.
"Seungmin, when do you think I'm prettiest?"
"I'm not falling for that trick." He answers without wasting a second.
Both of you got home for the day around the same time and have been relaxing on the couch together in silence. You were scrolling through tiktok, showing Seungmin ones you thought were funny, while he hummed quietly and read. You only stopped scrolling because you saw a new trend where people would ask their partners when they thought they were the most attractive, pretties, handsome, etc. It made you curious to see what Seungmin's answer would be.
"There's no trick. I'll even tell you what my answer would be for you. But only after you answer. Please? I wanna know." You get up from his side and face him. He presses his lips together and stares at you. You're not sure if he's considering answering or trying to think of an answer. Maybe he just thinks you're stupid for asking the question in the first place.
"I think you're prettiest the second you take off your makeup." He says after a moment of silence.
"What?" You're taken aback by his answer. You want to laugh but you're not sure if he's actually joking or not. You know that if he's being serious and you laugh it'll hurt his feelings and he'll immediately retract his statement saying something along the lines of, 'I don't find you pretty at all. You're really ugly.'
"You're really pretty when you put your makeup. You do it really well and it suits you the way you do it," He closes his book and turns to face you more directly, "But I think you look best bare faced. It's my favorite version of you. I don't know, it's just my preference maybe. And I like watching you take off your makeup. It's almost like opening up a present on Christmas. Watching you go from one beautiful version of yourself to the most beautiful version makes me really happy-- Hey, why are you crying?"
"B-because, that is the sweetest thing you've ever said to me!" You blubber. You can't help but crying at Seungmin's answer. He had such a soft voice and bright smile while he was talking, it made you realize how much he really loves you. And how much you love him back.
"I'm sure I've said sweeter things," Seungmin brings his left hand to your face and wipes away your tears with his right hand.
"I don't care. This is number one now. I was going to say you look prettiest when you smile but that sounds lame in comparison." You sniffle.
"If you said it, it wouldn't be lame."
"I will cry again,"
"You also look pretty when you cry." He adds, smiling.
"I'm about to become so fucking beautiful in a second if you don't stop being sweet."
—
Buy me a coffee?
—
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hi!! can i request a miguel x jealous reader? this has been stuck in my head for quite some time now..
it is no question that spiderman 2099 was hot, even if the people of nueva york haven't seen his face.. his huge frame and voice will of course gain him some fans. one day, reader overhears a group of young highschoolers, fangirling about spiderman 2099 and how hot he was. even showing off some pictures and videos to each other.
of course, reader feels proud since spiderman 2099 is their husband. but also can't help but feel jealous knowing that others also want miguel. they push it down though since getting jealous over a bunch of highschoolers was silly.
however, reader is more bothered about it than they thought and miguel eventually notices their sour mood. after some denying and coaxing, miguel finally gets them to spill the beans. he is extremely amused, and even finds it a little funny. however, he's still going to reassure reader that he is only theirs like the great husband he is.. 🥰 ending can be smutty or fluffy, up to you!!! ❤️
hii!! sorry for the hold up for this. this is cute I love it!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌
—
SUBTLE ENVY
miguel o’hara x f!reader
word count. 644
There was no doubt that Spider-Man 2099 was the talk of the town - his towering, masculine physique often the main focal point. When you'd overhear strangers on the street conversing about the masked menace, your husband, you'd be overgrown with pride - listening in on their encounters of being saved by him.
Many things made you feel proud to know Spider-Man so personally - to know the real man under the suit and mask. Though, some things about the title of the wife aren't as easy to stomach.
Daily, you'd see hundreds of comments online about how handsome your husband is - see fan-made videos and edits with questionable captions. For the most part, you enjoyed them. You loved to watch clips and compilations of the man you love, loved to see how liked and appreciated he is by the people of Nueva York.
However, sometimes the comments would get the best of you. You'd see teenage girls swooning over him online - talking about how they wish to replace his wife. At first, they were small, inconsequential remarks, but over time, they changed how you saw yourself. They made you question if you were good enough for Miguel. You kept your issue to yourself - deciding your husband had enough on his plate and didn't need you complaining about something you could easily ignore.
You kept your problem hidden until one afternoon at your local coffee shop; you overheard a group of high school girls talk about what they would do if they had a minute alone with Spider-Man 2099. What they said should've easily rolled off your back, should've been something that you laugh off, something you silently agreed with, but no. They caught you in a vulnerable mood where you were sensitive to their infatuation, already feeling insecure, and all you could do was leave the queue and head home.
You return to your apartment and change into something comfy, slumping onto the sofa with a blanket wrapped around you. You put on your show and cosy up.
"Cariño?" Miguel calls out from his office doorway. "I thought I heard you," his tone warm and comforting as he kisses your cheek from behind. "How was your day?"
"Good," you absentmindedly reply, keeping your gaze on the tv ahead.
"Is that all? Querida? Are you okay?"
"Mh-hm."
"Pms?" he asks, joining you on the couch.
"No," you chuckle, cutely shaking your head. "Don't think so anyway."
"You seem sad."
You smile sincerely. "It's nothing— it's silly, really."
Miguel's head cocks to the side, sweetly looking at you with softened eyes. His large hand reaching for yours. "Nothing's too silly," he shakes his head, trying to emphasise his statement. "Tell me what's on your mind."
"Miguel, it's stupid," you warn, suddenly embarrassed. "Like, really stupid."
"I don't care."
You exhale, turning to face him. "I was getting coffee and heard a bunch of girls swooning over you," you confess, your words quietening.
"Baby..." he hesitates, an amused smile lining his lips.
"I know it's childish, but it just bugs me sometimes—it's not funny."
"Of course not," he reassures, his posture stiffening from your soft scolding. "But you have to see the humour in it, no?"
"How so?"
"Cariño," he sweetly coos. "I'm here... with you. No one else gets to see me like this. Only you see me without the mask," his smile widens, looking at you in endearment. "You're the only one I want. I don't care about the girls on the internet or in coffee shops, just you."
Your smile mirrors his as you lean into him, nestling into his comfort. "Thank you," you say, your words muffle into the buff of his side. "I appreciate it. A lot."
"Of course," he chuckles, draping a blanket over himself - getting comfortable. He kisses the crown of your head. "Always."
— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —
#request#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara fluff#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel atsv
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s'entendre
élan part five: y/n's first night out since the gala couldn't be that bad. right?
wordcount: 14.4k+
—————
(Y/N) couldn't help the frown that landed on her face as she looked in the mirror.
While her time in Paris had been the best she'd had in a really long while, it wasn't necessarily showing. At this point, she'd missed three of her facial appointments, her skin beginning to cry out from the lack of treatment. Her nails were barely hanging on, her acrylics grown out past the point of comfort. While her mental state was beginning to grow to a wholly positive place, the rest of her wasn't really catching up.
To top it off, her makeup wasn't cooperating either. Maybe she should really get a glam squad like Harry thought—at least then she would have a chance at being on time for events with a fully formed face.
With Emma joining them in Paris for the weekend, Francesca had insisted they go out and visit the nightlife. Of course, the one night she knew there would no doubt be photos caught of her just from the way her friends were still very active on their social medias, would be when her makeup cooperates the least.
Letting out a rumbling groan, (Y/N) was that close to calling off the night as another smudge of mascara blobbed on the crease of her eye.
Like always, Harry popped his head inside her bedroom, a pinch in his brows appearing as he took in the otherwise safe room.
"What's the matter, hm?" he asked, stepping inside her room. His reflection was made in the mirror, a clear view of his eyes stitched on her as she gazed at him through the glass.
It was a bit petulant, her reaction, with the way she puffed out her bottom lip with a pout. "My skin doesn't look good, and my makeup is only making it worse." Before she could even finish her statement, Harry was shaking his head, lips thinning as if he was bored with the fact she couldn't see facts right in front of her. "Harry, really," she argued against his silent protest, "My makeup looks so weird, right now."
(Y/N) watched as he settled in behind her, his arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flittered over the mirror, ever-observant.
"You're very funny sometimes, you know that?"
That only strengthened the frown on her lips and pinch in her brow. "I'm not being funny right now."
Dropping his gaze, his features facing the floor, Harry shook his head again. Down the slope of his nose, she swore she saw the edges of an easy smile. Looking up, only traces of amusement lingered on his lips.
"That's what you think," he countered cryptically, "Let me know when you're ready."
With that, Harry popped out of her room as quickly as he joined her. Sweeping her eyes away from the doors he exited through, returning to the mirror set in her vanity, she took in the planes of her face.
Though she could still see texture and bumps, pores and blemishes, it didn't bother her so terribly for a moment. Even the sight of her outgrown nails with dull edges didn't pick at her nerves.
If Harry didn't think she looked silly, even after he witnessed the glamour she preferred in New York, then maybe it wasn't so bad.
Even if he didn't say he thought she looked pretty, he thought her complaints against her features were outlandish enough to laugh at.
Suddenly, she didn't feel like agonizing over her skin anymore. She looked just fine, she decided.
—————
"Tell me again how you're going to tell me if you're uncomfortable or want to leave."
Outside the windows at her back, the underground of Paris whirled past, the train moving quickly under the treasures on the surface. The car was on the quiet side for the night, the hour still early before others drunk on champagne would be stumbling through.
Looking up at Harry through the fan of her false lashes, she repeated the same thing he told her at least five times before leaving the penthouse: "If I can, I need to come and tell you right away. But, if I'm in a situation where I can't reach you, I'm going to look at you and nod three times."
That slow blooming smile touched the corner of his mouth, sot lips curling as he gazed down at her. "Perfect," he praised her, adjusting his hands from where they were curled around the rail on either side of her, "Jus' remember that for me, please. You're going to have a really fun night, I jus' want you to be safe."
"Okay," (Y/N) nodded pliantly, gaze dropping down to the slope of his neck, "I—um—I also don't want to drink a lot tonight."
"Okay," Harry answered cautiously, voice trailing off.
"I know that's not a rule or anything, but I just... I don't want to get too deep tonight or anything," she explained in a small voice. While she wanted to unwind and play with her friends, she wasn't interested in stumbling around or blabbing things to anyone willing to sit and listen. She hoped she wouldn't have to worry about any photographers, but that didn't mean some couldn't pop up and take pictures of her with glazed eyes to feed into the narrative being spun back in New York.
Understanding, Harry nodded his head, the green of his eyes softening as he allowed his gaze to slide across her features. "Okay," he said, "We can do that. I'll keep an eye on you, but if y'change your mind, that's okay, too. Whatever is going to make you happy tonight."
Overhead the feminine French voice blinked over the intercom, arrival times appearing on the small screen at the head of the car. Harry looked over his shoulder taking in the printed times. As much as she teased him, he really was making progress in understanding the language, enough so that he was readily taking on the details of the night and keeping track of her.
Allowing her eyes to skip over the line of his profile. Dressed low-key as usual, dark colors to help him sink into the background, the softer tones of his skin were left to jump out. The brown shades of his hair made way for sun-dappled blonde strands to make their way through, highlighting the swirling curls. His eyes were bright and clear, framed by dark curling lashes. His skin was creamy and warm, a gentle tan from the summer sun being highlighted from the dotted freckles on his nose and the rosy flush on his cheeks.
"Thank you," she blurted.
"Hm?" Harry hummed, turning to face her once more, brows raised.
(Y/N) felt her skin heat as she processed her action. She hadn't meant to say anything.
"Thank you," she repeated, "For doing all of this. Helping."
"It's m'job," he answered simply.
That was a fact (Y/N) couldn't forget, that thin veil between being a constant barrier. "I know, but," she swallowed, feeling a bit silly now knowing that he noticed that line just as much as she did, "It's just a nice feeling—like you care, and all."
The contact he made with her gaze was easy and open, unwavering. "It's because I do care."
Just then, as convenient as ever, their arrival was announced. The train slowed to a stop, passengers readying to exit the car.
Letting go of the rail, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon," he murmured, keeping her close as he guided them into the fray of the moving passengers.
(Y/N) followed absently wherever he needed, her heels hitting the ground in quiet clicks. She wasn't sure what the squeeze in her lungs and stuttering in her chest meant, but feeling Harry at her side made it that much more prevalent.
—————
Looking ahead, (Y/N) spotted the line leading up to Francesca's club of choice for the night. Waiting patrons were roping around the sidewalk, chattering with cigarettes in hand, impatient at the wait time. Even from where they were, out on the sidewalk leading up to the bouncing building, pumping music could be heard. (She's ninety-eight percent sure it was a Dua Lipa song, but she couldn't hear it exactly).
Harnessed in neon pink tubes was the name of the club: Rêve.
At her side, Harry ignored the end of the line, taking her to the front just as Fran had instructed.
A burly bouncer sized them up, already doubting them after they cut the wait. (Y/N) offered her tabloid bunny smile, Harry the structured pillar at her side.
"Salut! Nous sommes ici pour rencontrer des amis sur un stand VIP, l'un d'entre eux ayant réservé pour la nuit," she chattered, keeping her eye contact with the bouncer.
The bouncer didn't look entirely impressed as he listened. His gaze inched from hers to land on Harry. "Nom?"
"Francesca Polair—nous sommes deux de ses invités."
The bouncer's eyes tripped down her form, taking in her shimmery dress and lengths of skin on display. "Pièce d'identité?"
While she reached for her small bag with her ID inside, the bouncer unclipped a small tablet that was hung from his belt. Handing over her passport, she watched as he squinted at the American identification. Nonetheless, her name inevitably matched that of what was on Fran's guest list.
"Vous êtes prêt à entrer. Est-il avec toi?" He asked, eyeing up Harry at her side.
"Oui, cela devrait également figurer sur la liste. Harry Styles."
This time the bouncer didn't properly look at the tablet, instead, taking her word for it though he still shot Harry a suspicious look with the way he lingered at her side.
Holding open the door, he nodding at (Y/N) to push past. "Les tribunes sont au fond, derrière la piste de danse."
"Merci," she murmured, stepping past him with Harry just a step behind.
Inside, the bass of the music that could be heard outside was that much louder, lyrics in French that were too loud for her to focus on enough to translate in her head. The space was dark, leaving only strobing beams of multicolored lights to throb through the club, the only stable beacons being that of the bars lining some of the walls.
Concentrations of people were found on the dance floor and the bars, leaving walkways in between to travel through. Staff and bottleservice workers traipsed through, fluorescent drinks with herbs perched on the rims were stationed on trays next to full bottles of sparkling liquor and beers that probably had no business being as expensive as they were.
The VIP section was a straight shot down to the back, easy to spot given the second bouncer manning the entrance and the stream of bottle service staff making their way there. Harry reminded her of his presence with a hand hovering on the small of her back, over the glittering fabric of her dress.
"Alright?" he asked, dipping down close to her ear in order for her to hear.
"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head with stray baby hairs tickling the borders of her face, "We just need to get back there to Fran and Emma."
Harry followed her line of sight towards the booths lining the back. In that way he always did, a reflex that had to have come from years in his line of work, he took inventory of the path to the back, noting the bodies in the way and the easiest route back.
"Okay," he murmured, looking determined when he positioned himself in front of her with his fingers looping around her wrist.
He took the lead then, ensuring her path was clear as she stepped behind him. She couldn't hear if he was speaking over the sound of the music, but she wondered if he was muttering something to those around them that had them parting, no one able to even brush against her as she slipped through the crowd. She could feel eyes landing on her back as she stepped through, but no one stopped her, no one raised a camera at the spectacle.
Before they could even reach the bouncer, a pitched scream that careened over the pumping music had (Y/N)'s eyes snapping up the raised level that the booths were situated on. Glowing like a mermaid with big waves in her hair and slinky blue dress adorning her body was Francesca, bright smile that much whiter under the lights as she spotted her best friend. The almost empty drink in her hand was perfect evidence of just how she was able to pitch her voice so high.
"(Y/N)!" she bubbled, racing out of her chosen booth on Bambi legs, "You're here! I missed you so much—come here, come here!"
She all but pushed the bouncer aside as she met them at the entrance to the section, the top of the small trio of stairs being where she stopped. The bouncer didn't stop them as Harry pulled her into the safety of the VIP area. Francesca barely glanced at her bodyguard before she had (Y/N) wrapped up in a hug, her glass precariously teetering on her shoulder.
"Emma brought Stavros so she's been all over him," Francesca whined, "I was scared you were going to leave me with her."
"I told you I was on my way," (Y/N) giggled, peeking through the fluff that was Fran's hair to spy Harry standing off to the side in wait of her. She shot him a look, widened eyes with a quiet smile as if to let him in on the inside joke that was her friend's drunken blubbers.
"I know, but I forgot. It doesn't matter, though, everything's okay now," Francesca rushed out, pulling away from the hug to pull (Y/N) towards the chosen booth for the night. Suddenly, she seemed to finally notice Harry was there as well, despite the fact that he had been the one leading her into the section in the first place. "Harry! Hi," she bubbled, waving at him with her drink in hand.
"Hi, Francesca," he said, giving her a nod in greeting before his eyes met (Y/N)'s. It was his turn to give her a small look, their own moment of amusement over her.
"Are you partying with us tonight?" she asked, eyes bright at the idea of Harry joining in on the fun.
Harry shook his head, features schooled away from that quiet look he shared with (Y/N). "Not tonight—'m on duty."
"That's a bummer," Fran pouted. Turning towards (Y/N), she seemingly forgot what had her bummed in the first place, instead replacing her sullen pout with a mischievous smile. "But, are you ready for a drink? We have a couple bottles at the table if you want to do shots!"
Before (Y/N) had a chance to properly answer, Fran led them to the secluded booth off to the corner of the roped off section. There, Emma and Stavros were canoodling away in the padded corner just as Francesca had complained, Emma with her hand sitting on the bare section of chest her boyfriend had on display with his barely buttoned shirt. He looked a little too satisfied with her attention, the way he was sinking into the leather booth and spreading his legs as if inviting Emma further. (Y/N) couldn't blame Fran for panicking at the idea of being left alone with the lovebirds for the night. As happy as they were for lovestruck Emma, the public intimacy was a bit much.
True to her word, on the round table in the middle of the half-moon booth were two bottles of expensive liquor. Tiny shot glasses were standing in a stack by the bottles, a pair already having been used.
Just as Francesca moved to pour (Y/N) one of her own small glasses, she was stopped with a hand on her arm. "I don't want to do too much tonight, Fran," she told her in her ear, hoping she could hear her over the music, "I have pilates in the morning, then I was going to hunt for a new nail studio."
"Oh!" Fran chirped, the remains of her drink sloshing in her glass, "Why didn't you say so? We'll just get you a vodka soda then, so you stay hydrated."
Before (Y/N) could even laugh at her friend's well-intentioned solution, Francesca was already flagging down one of the bottle service workers to place another order. (Y/N) didn't try to stop her, more than willing of this to be her drink of choice for the night instead of a round of shots.
Emma, suddenly breaking out of her love bubble, noticed (Y/N) for the first time despite having been standing by their table for a handful of minutes now. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, eyes glazed and lips puffy, "Look, Stavros, (Y/N)'s here!"
"Hi Emma," (Y/N) greeted, reaching across the table to give her a short hug, "Hi Stavros."
"(Y/N)?" Stavros repeated back to Emma, a confused pinch between his brows.
"You met her at the Gala, remember?" she answered, attempting to jog his memory, "She was in the pink dress with the little bag."
"Oh, yes!" Stavros perked up, looking to (Y/N) with recognition in his eyes, "The crying girl, yes?"
Underneath her skin, (Y/N)'s blood simmered with embarrassment. With Harry being the only person she'd been around since leaving New York, and Francesca being well aware of how unnecessary that night was to bring up, no one had brought up the Gala and the contents of the night to her face. She knew that was what many people in attendance were going to remember her for, but she didn't think it would be so blatantly broadcasted to her face.
Emma shifted her gaze to (Y/N), most likely knowing through Francesca that the Gala was a topic that was off limits for the time being. The silence between the trio lasted a beat too long for (Y/N)'s comfort. She swallowed down that prickling embarrassment, instead giving a smile.
"That was me," she laughed it off, "Hopefully I'll stay out of trouble tonight."
That seemed to be enough to quell the lovebirds' nerves, allowing Emma to smile and laugh along while Stavros gave a peal of laughter that was too enthused for (Y/N) to believe he actually understood what she said. Nonetheless, the awkward beat had been extinguished and now only lived in (Y/N)'s head for the time being. At least no one else was listening, Francesca too busy with her ordering and Harry just a few too many feet away to catch specific conversations.
"How have you been, (Y/N)? I've barely been able to talk to you since you left," Emma started up, leaning forward to give (Y/N) all of her attention.
Though she was sure it was a way to fill in the gaps of the conversation and pave over the bump Stavros left in the night, (Y/N) was grateful for the change in subject, recounting her time in the city. Francesca eventually settled in beside her in the booth, giving her own commentary on the things (Y/N) had already shared with her over dinner. Harry was stationed a few feet away, allowing her some space and privacy for the night though she could still feel his eyes landing on her every now and then as she gesticulated through the story of their day of sightseeing.
Soon enough, drinks arrived at the table along with a wish for their group to have a fun night. Her vodka soda bubbled in hand, the first sips holding the aroma of the rosemary sprig that was lanced through the cubes of ice. Francesca and Emma on the other hand downed a pair of shots while Stavros cheered on his girlfriend.
By the time the burn had left Francesca's throat and she unclenched her eyes, (Y/N) had only made it through a couple of short pulls of her light drink. Francesca looked at her with bright eyes, the strobes from the dance floor tinting them a vibrant blue.
"Let's go dance, c'mon!" she bubbled, already standing on her wobbling legs before she finished speaking.
Peeking around her, she found the dance floor crowded but nowhere near packed in the way some of the spots in New York could get at this hour. The music was good enough, and she didn't plan on wasting her first night out with friends over a throw away comment from Emma's boyfriend and the fear that she might embarrass herself again.
Allowing Francesca to sweep her away, Emma and Stavros unsurprisingly staying back for a moment, (Y/N) found Harry's eyes for a moment. He looked at her with that solid eye contact he never wavered on when it came to her. A slight pinch lingered between his brows.
She shot him a small smile and a single nod.
She was going to have a good night. Harry didn't need to worry.
—————
"I love this song!"
(Y/N) let out an easy, boisterous laugh at Francesca's bubbling comment, throwing her head back with her eyes closed. Did she even know this song? Given the fact Fran's French was nowhere near as refined as (Y/N)'s, there was a high chance she didn't understand a single syllable pumping through the speakers. Nonetheless, (Y/N) kept dancing along with her friend, hands twisting high above her head with her hips swaying.
More than one drink had passed through her hands, a couple passed the limit she set for herself at the start of the night. She would be fine, though, she was sure. She was barely even tipsy, she thought. The Cosmo in her hand was slick against her palm, having replaced the vodka soda she started with.
Across from her Francesca was having the time of her life with Emma and Stavros rounding out their group. Harry was somewhere in the distance, keeping an eye on her. More than once, he checked in from across the room, even sending for another drink for her when he heard her complaining of needing another. He treaded around her carefully, ensuring he didn't infringe on her night while doing his job to the best of his ability.
At the top of the night, she noticed a few eyes on her, some whispering with those wandering eyes landing on her a few too many times. Though she would love to assume they were only speaking of her dress or sharing comments about the state of her dancing, her years in the light pushed her to speculate these were people who recognized her. As more drinks started flowing, her inhibition for the night waning, she let it go when she caught glimpses of phone cameras trained in her direction, a few people even daring to make their way closer to her on the dance floor.
Harry kept a careful eye on the situation, watching her movements and keeping track of those around her. (Y/N) was sure a few of the times he stepped in to grab her another drink or check in on her, it was nothing short of a tactic to separate her from the others on the floor, reminding them that she wasn't a gazelle to be preyed on.
Suddenly, a pair of hands slid around her waist. She jumped in her skin for a moment, her heated skin erupting in goosebumps. Though her dancing lagged for just a moment, she honestly didn't really care about the touch. With her eyes closed, and head trained towards the sky, she halfway figured it was Emma who was dancing with her, having abandoned her boyfriend to cuddle up for a moment.
Until she heard Emma's tittering laugh from a space away. In front of her.
Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) took stock of those around her. Emma was stretching up to her tiptoes as she sealed her lips to Stavros', her hands locked in his hair, only pulling away when he whispered something to her that made her laugh. Francesca was off to the side of her, making moony eyes at an unfamiliar man in front of her, there chattering silent under the thrumming music. On her waist was the hand of someone she didn't know.
Stumbling in her spot, she tried to whirl around in an attempt to see who exactly it was that was behind her. The hand on her waist tightened, steadying her as he leaned down with his mouth by her ear.
"Sorry, chérie," an accented voice said over her shoulder, "I didn't mean to scare you."
Unable to help the peal of laughter that fell from her lips, (Y/N) realized something just then.
She was drunk.
In a different moment, with a different drink in her hand (probably water), she wouldn't have been quite so welcoming to having someone touch her and use a pet name so casually.
Instead, she didn't really mind. She could only laugh and hang onto his hand, keeping herself steady as she tipped her head backwards to see him.
"It's okay," she slurred, "I just wasn't expecting that." Blue eyes stared back at her, topped by black brows. He smelled like smoke and vodka Red Bulls. "Who are you?"
The man laughed at her blunt question, the sound mixing with the music. "I am Marc," he told her, eyes shifting over her head to where Francesca was standing, "And that's my friend, Alain. We thought you and your friend were beautiful, so we wanted to introduce ourselves."
"Oh, okay," she sounded, matching his line of sight a little too quickly with her hair fluttered around her face. Much more stable on her feet again, she spun on her heels, facing her mystery man—Marc—properly. "Nice to meet you," she bubbled, taking an absent sip from her drink, "I'm (Y/N)."
Dipping down, Marc pressed a swift kiss to the soft of her cheek. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N). I've been having to work up the courage to come talk to you since I first came in here."
While in the back of her muddled mind, (Y/N) knew well that he was feeding her nothing but lines, she wasn't sure if she cared. There had been enough times she had been seduced by a French accent and enough wine to know that this was just one of those things. French men were much more romantic in her experiences, their lines matching the intimacy they were seeking from her.
Was it such a bad thing to revel in the niceties, though? The last time someone had openly flirted with her now ranked in the top five worst nights of her life, so it felt a little more than nice to have someone piling compliments and cushioned flirting. Was it such a bad thing to indulge herself? To soak in a second of outside validation?
Though the standard wasn't that high, at least he wasn't grabbing her face and demeaning her.
Letting her hesitations go, drifting to the back of her mind with the help of the alcohol train running off the tracks, she leaned towards him with a giggling smile. "Well, I'm happy you did," she beamed, her eyes hooded.
Taking another pull of her drink, her straw hit the bottom with only ice clinking against the glass. She almost wanted to whine at the sight. She had been hoping for more.
"Do you want me to get you another?" Marc asked, nodding towards her drink when she looked up at him.
"Um, hold on," she told him, already craning her neck to look around him in hopes of spotting someone else.
(Y/N) scanned the blur of bodies for Harry. It didn't take long to see the only sober person in the crowd, his gaze sharp and commanding through the strobing lights. He stood off the dance floor with his arms across his chest. Raising his brows, he matched her gaze. Canting her head, she raised her glass over her head as if that was enough of an explanation.
Harry gave her a small nod before she was looking back at her new friend.
"One of my friends has been getting me drinks tonight, actually. So, thanks, but I've got it." A hiccup punctuated her words.
Marc looked over his shoulder, surely spotting Harry who was making his way through the crowd to her. "You said he's your friend?"
"Uh-huh," (Y/N) sounded, wanting to see Harry herself but instead opting to sway to the sound of the music. He'd be here soon enough. "He's technically my bodyguard, but he's my friend.
"Bodyguard?" Marc repeated, looking back towards (Y/N).
Even though her vodka-soaked thought process, she noted the way he didn't seem too put off by the fact she had any kind of security detail. Maybe, that was that French disposition—the inability to care that much—but that wasn't something she was able to think about for very long.
"Uh-huh," she answered nonetheless, a hiccup making her pause, "It's a long story. I'm from New York, and there's been a lot of stuff going on, so, yeah, he's my bodyguard."
Speak of the devil, Harry popped in then, having elbowed his way through to stand at (Y/N)'s side. He didn't pay Marc a single moment of attention, looking only to her with his secure gaze.
"Y'want another, or water?"
While she couldn't deny she was reveling under Marc's attention, it was also very clear to herself how much she preferred Harry's eyes on her opposed to her new companion. There were sparks of relief upon seeing him within touching distance again, knowing that he was right there. If there was anything she needed, he was there now to remedy her situation. She knew he was taking note of everything, uncaring of whether or not her makeup was intact, assuring that she was safe and taken care of.
But, Marc actually called her pretty. He won for the night, (Y/N) decided.
"I think I want another, but then I want water," she shouted over the music, giving Harry her glass for him to discard at the bar.
Raising a dark brow, Harry gave her that amused look. "That's what y'said last time."
She laughed easily at his prodding, her grin stretching wide over her lips and head dropping backwards. "I know," she sang, "But I mean it this time."
"Whatever you say," he teased, "But I'll get you another. Jus' stay right here and wait for me."
"Merci," she crooned to him, suddenly remembering Marc's presence when he squeezed at her waist.
Before (Y/N) could offer for Harry to grab Marc a drink while he was at the bar as well, Harry was already off. He made a quick detour, checking on her friends then sinking into the thick of the crowd once more.
She hadn't even known she was watching the space he disappeared into until Marc snaked his hand up the line of her spine, palm flat against her back as he pushed her into him. (Y/N) turned her attention to him, mouth in a small gape as he matched her gaze head-on. His eyes were a lot icier than she remembered.
"Do you maybe want to go sit down for a second somewhere?" he asked, dipping down to press his cheek against hers with his lips by her ear, "It's hard to hear you out here."
"In a second," she answered, hiccuping against his chest, "I need to wait for him."
"You have a booth for the night, though, right? Up in the VIP section?" he pressed, seemingly not catching her caveat in sneaking away.
"I-I do, but Harry—my drink."
"I'm sure he'll be able to find you up there, don't worry," Marc insisted, herding (Y/N) off the dance floor and towards the sectioned off dais.
Though her footing wasn't the most stable at the moment, (Y/N) still attempted to dig her heels in and stay put. Harry told her to stay here. She had promised him she would keep his job easy while in Paris, and she knew that sneaking off wasn't something that would abide by that promise.
Out of nowhere, Francesca's hand clasped around her shoulder. In her other hand was Marc's friend's arm, her eyes hooded and glazed.
"Let's go up to the booth," she drawled, words a little slurred.
"Are you sure?" (Y/N) asked, the slightly more sober of the duo, "Harry is supposed to come back over here; he told me to wait."
Francesca shook her head with her fluff of styled hair. "He'll"—hic—"He'll be able to find you. It's okay."
It wouldn't be so bad if Francesca and Emma were up there with her. Harry wasn't stupid either, the next place he would look after the dance floor would have to be the booth, right? it would be okay.
Giving a nod to Fran, (Y/N) allowed her to lead their small group towards the VIP area, Marc and his friend happily intermingling with the group and Emma and Stavros bringing up the rear.
Despite her hesitancy, she did feel a bit better by the time she scaled the small set of stairs. She was nowhere near sober and the music wasn't much quieter than down on the floor, but at least here she wasn't stuffed between bodies. She could open her eyes and see stretches of the floor, her body touching non-humid air again.
She was happy to see the booth once more, grateful to take a seat and get the pressure off her feet and the heels she had strapped around her ankles. Though Marc didn't slide in beside her like she expected. Instead, stood at the head of the table and lent down to speak to her.
"I have a couple of other friends I brought tonight. Do you mind if I go get them? I'm their ride so I don't want them to worry," he told her, looking innocently with icy blue eyes.
"Friends?" (Y/N) asked, unsure if it was the alcohol or the outlandish request that wasn't computing.
"Yeah, just a few. They're down there," Marc recited, casting a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be right back, okay?"
With that, he was heading back down the entrance of the VIP area, leaving (Y/N) and the girls behind.
Fran, little black straw in her mouth with water finally having been poured in her glass, lent across the booth, gently touching (Y/N)'s shoulder. When she turned, she caught the woozy smile on Francesca's face.
"Your guy is really cute," she said, her words dissolving into laughter.
"Yeah," (Y/N) answered absently, "But, did yours tell you that they're bringing friends over here?"
"Yeah," Fran simply repeated, taking another long sip of her water.
While it didn't particularly soothe her that Francesca didn't seem to care about the new uninvited guests, she figured there wasn't much else she could glean about her thoughts while in her drunken state. Instead, she let Francesca insert herself into Emma and Stavros' conversation, while (Y/N) searched for Harry. Soon enough, she spotted him approaching the dais, pink drink in hand and water in the other. There was a particularly stern set in his jaw, clearly disappointed.
Coming to the booth, he ducked down to place the duo of drinks in front of her, the water closer to the foreground. He looked at her through the fan of his lashes, lips a stern line as he lent across to talk to her.
"I thought y'were going to wait for me down there," he told her, lips by her ear.
"Um, yeah," she responded, dropping her gaze to the cranberry juice heavy Cosmopolitan she ordered, "That guy—my friend—, he said he wanted to talk to me here so it was a little bit quieter. But, now he's getting some friends he said he didn't want to leave behind."
(Y/N) didn't have to see Harry to know he was particularly unimpressed with this new information. "He said he's bringing friends? To come and sit up here with you?"
"Yeah," she told him, voice small with a nod of her head.
The more she said it out loud, the less and less of a good idea it sounded to her ears.
"Okay," he sighed, pulling away to match her eye contact head-on, "'M going to be right there, then." Behind him, he pointed at the glass railing that reinforced the boundaries of the VIP section, a good place for him to take up post and keep an eye on her. "Make sure y'stay with Emma and Francesca, okay? Don't let them get separated from you. Remember what we talked about that I need you to do if you're uncomfortable."
Swallowing, (Y/N) nodded her head, looking at him with wide eyes. Though the scene around him blurred a little too much, vodka-tinted vision, she made sure she locked eyes with him. "Okay. I remember."
That seemed to quell him enough, though that set in his jaw never loosened. "Good. I'll be right there, just grab me if y'need me."
With Harry blending into his post, his eyes unwavering on her form, (Y/N) attempted to settle herself with sips of her water. Soon enough, a larger group of people infiltrated the VIP section, their access to get through having been the fact two of the members had been previously seen with (Y/N) and Francesca.
The group of friends looked a lot different than what (Y/N) had expected. Two more men had joined the fray, along with three women. The entire friend group being that of seven people, adding into the group of four that were (Y/N) and her friends.
"Thanks for letting me bring them up here," Marc said, sly smile on his lips when he slipped into the booth beside (Y/N), "They really wanted to meet you guys."
"Y-Yeah, of course," she stuttered out, though Marc clearly stopped listening before she even started.
His eyes wandered to one of the women he brought up, watching as she flagged down a bottle service worker. (Y/N) could hear her rattling off orders in French, pointing back at Francesca and (Y/N) settled into the booth. While she was busy, the others had descended upon the liquor already on the table, draining the bottles.
"What's wrong?" Marc asked, voice a tad too sweet. As if he didn't have a single idea of what she could be bothered by.
"There's just a lot of people," (Y/N) answered, clutching her glass of water tight. If she had the attention to spare, she would have looked towards Francesca for assistance, to see if she was the only one thrown off. But there was too much happening, and she couldn't even see Harry through the new mass forming in their booth.
Marc waved her off carelessly, "Don't worry about them. Just have fun, chérie. The night is still young."
Around her, she saw the maelstrom that had begun. Drinks were flowing, Francesca happily distracted with Alain, Emma and Stavros in their bubble, and a few of the new additions to the table pairing off with affectionate hands. There was only one woman left—the one that had initially flagged down the bottle service worker—who was carefully watching Marc at (Y/N)'s side.
Everyone was having fun, she figured. The two bottles they had on their table had been drained with Francesca a moment away from catching her man for the night in a kiss. Even the woman with eyes on Marc was swaying to the music, empty shot glasses in front of her.
(Y/N) did want to have fun.
"C'mon, dance with me," Marc persuaded, standing up with his hand held out for her to take.
After a beat of hesitation, (Y/N) took his offered hand and joined him, paying enough attention to the music above to let everything go just a hair. With Marc egging her on, a hand landing on her waist, she swayed along to the beat, hanging more fun the less she thought.
It wasn't until she took a sip of her water that Marc interrupted her.
"No, have fun, chérie," he pressed, taking the water out of her hand and reaching for the abandoned Cosmopolitan.
"I don't know," (Y/N) started, intending to reject the drink until it was shoved into her hand.
"Don't be boring, chérie," Marc chided, as if he were close enough to her to tease, "Don't let it go to waste, at least."
While it wasn't solid logic considering (Y/N) was the one paying for her drink, it was enough of a persuasion to work on her muddled brain. She pliantly fit the thin black straw between her lips, allowing herself to drift into the moment. It wasn't so bad, she decided. The extra people weren't so bad in their sanctioned area. It didn't even bother her that much when three more bottles were delivered to the table, sparklers and all with a procession of excited staff fueling the fire.
"I told them it was alright to order some bottles for the table," Marc sounded over the music, looping an arm around her shoulders to press her to his chest, "I can pay you back though if you want, I just kind of figured it would be okay since you're from New York and all."
Looking to the table, she saw as the rest of his friends swarmed the table, Alain even abandoning Francesca to join in the rounds of shots. (Y/N)'s name wasn't even officially on the table, but they'd still managed to put things on her tab.
Floundering over her response, (Y/N) could feel her mouth gape before closing once more. In this moment, more than anything she wished she hadn't drank so much. This wouldn't be much of a struggle if she could manage to focus or not dredge through miles of muddy tracks in her head. It was easier to let things go at the moment instead of allowing the bubbling blow up that would have transpired earlier in the night.
"Um—Just, don't order too much," (Y/N) conditioned, her brows coming together in a loose pinch.
"It'll be alright," he assured her, that arm around her shoulders tightening to get her eyes back on him, "C'mon let's finish our drinks."
Marc's free hand came up to urge her drink up to her mouth. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, contemplating for a split second. While it was annoying, the extra bottles ordered in her name at the table, but it wasn't so bad. The night was going fine enough, and Marc was nice. She didn't want to ruin anything or make any kind of scene in the middle of the club. Harry's eyes were no doubt trained on her.
Even with her father countries away at the moment, she was sure he'd find a way to punish her accordingly if Harry had to report anything unpleasant back.
Pliantly, (Y/N) pulled the thin black straw between her lips, taking down her Cosmopolitan.
—————
Unsure of how she got here, (Y/N) couldn't help but to stare wide eyed at Marc and his—surprisingly enough—girlfriend dancing on the table.
At least she assumed that was his girlfriend, with the way his tongue was down her throat and hand was on her ass.
Honestly, she couldn't be that surprised, considering this woman was the same one that had been staring possessively the whole time Marc was interacting with her. But, how they ended up on the table, dancing to some French song she was not sober enough to understand, (Y/N) did not know.
Around the table, the rest of that friend group had grown just as rowdy. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks, the waitstaff offering dirty looks from the amount of times one of the couples had attempted to smoke, and the neighboring tables were beginning to lose patience with their chaos.
Francesca was definitely out of her head for the night, every sip of alcohol definitely hitting her system heavily. While she may have had qualms with the etiquette of their unwanted guests if she were sober, she definitely didn't with the way she was willing to ignore as much in favor of dancing and playing with Emma when she wasn't busy with Stavros. Emma's boyfriend, being the most sober of the group, was less than impressed, whispering something into Emma's ear that (Y/N) hoped was a game plan to get out of here.
Searching through the mass that had been created around the table, (Y/N) tried to spot Harry. She wanted to get out of here. There was no reasoning with the way these people were behaving, and she wanted to get out of here before she was pushed too far.
Suddenly, a strong hand landed on her shoulder. Turning on her heel, she startled at the touch.
Harry stood behind her, his jaw set and brows in a furrow. Dipping his head down, he told her, "We need to leave."
Even with her head swimming, (Y/N) jerkily nodded her head. "I don't want to be here anymore," she answered, "Th-They're being crazy."
"Yeah." His answer was simple and stern, flicking his gaze up to the couple dancing on the table. His eyes blazed at the sight of Marc, definitely having played with (Y/N) through the night to get up to this section. "C'mon," he prompted, using his hand on her shoulder to help guide her through the booth before meeting him on the other side.
Despite her drunken legs, she dug her heels in. "But, Fran and Emma."
"I'll call them a car, we jus' need to leave before this gets any more out of hand. Tell them we're leaving."
Nodding, Harry let go of her before she tried to swim across to catch Francesca. Even when she grabbed her hand, Fran kept dancing, on a different planet that kept her eyes plugged and head drowning.
"Francesca!" (Y/N) shouted, trying to be heard over the music.
"(Y/N)!" she answered, barely glancing at her with a flip of her hair before she was dancing on an odd rhythm.
Attempting to catch her attention once more, (Y/N) was stopped as Marc leaned down, his lips swollen and eyes glazed.
"You're not leaving, right?" he yelled over the music, his words watery and slurred, "You're supposed to stay and party with us, New York!"
(Y/N) stammered over an answer. "I—um—"
"We've seen those pictures of you, we know you like to have a good time! You can't leave yet!"
Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, part of her chest felt a little too tight. Of course, they knew who she was. Of course, they'd seen photos of her.
"I'm sorry, I don't feel good," she responded, uncaring if he could hear her over the music anymore.
Something shifted in Marc, then. His features morphed almost before her eyes, his eyes darkening and brows tightening. "How are we supposed to pay for all of this, if you aren't here?!"
"I'm sorry, but I'm not staying here," she affirmed, shaking her head, "I'm grabbing my friends and—"
"Wow," he spat, cutting her off, "You really are a bitch—just like everyone says,"
Stepping up behind her, Harry placed a stern hand on Marc's chest, pushing him out of (Y/N)'s space.
"Back off, unless y'would prefer to have a problem," he started, his rough voice heavy over the music. Marc teetered off balance, the woman at his side having to steady him as he looked at Harry with offended eyes.
"Who a—"
"We're leaving," Harry cemented, ignoring whatever Marc was going to try to say, "You are going to find a way to pay for all of this, or you'll be hearing from me again. You're not going to be taking advantage of her."
There was no room left for Marc to argue before Harry wrangled up the girls, Stavros helping to guide both Fran and Emma out of the booth.
"C'mere," Harry said, offering (Y/N) his hand to help her climb over the back of the booth.
She happily took his hand, carefully stepping over the faux-leather with Harry grabbing her waist to help her over the structure. Tottering on her heels for just a moment, Harry didn't linger for very long before he was rushing her out of the VIP section. She could feel dirty looks on her back from the staff, but she didn't care at the moment.
Instead, she clung to Harry as they caught up to Francesca and Emma, Stavros heading their line on his much steadier feet. The closer they ventured to the exit, the more and more drunk she felt. The more removed she became from the pumping music and the other alcohol-soaked bodies, the more the real world was not suited to her current state.
"Careful," Harry murmured in her ear, righting her from a stumble she hadn't realized she made. Slipping an arm around her waist, he curled his hand around her hip.
"Sorry, sorry," she answered, fixing her gaze on her feet in hopes of staying cautious like he asked. Absently, she grabbed his hand on her hip, laying her palm against the top of hand with her fingers curling in-between the gaps of his.
Harry pulsed his hand, both her hip and fingers cradled in his hold.
Stavros pushed the exit door open for everyone to follow, the first light of the outside world glimmering into the otherwise dark club. Even with the alcohol muddling her thoughts, (Y/N) still caught the way Francesca stumbled back when she stepped out, her hands blindly reaching up to cover her eyes.
(Y/N)'s steps slowed, bright flashes pinging out on the sidewalk. Those people—the ones who stole their table and tacked (Y/N)'s name on the end of their bill—they wouldn't have posted about her, would they? While she might not be as hugely followed out here compared to New York, there were definitely international publications that enjoyed snapping her photo and selling it off.
Heading up the rear, Harry continued to pull her towards the exit, even when (Y/N) saw another round of flashbulbs go off when Emma made her appearance out on the concrete. Shouted questions in French could be heard, bubbling just over the sound of the music.
"Stay with me," Harry murmured to her, "There should be some cars waiting, jus' stay steady, (Y/N)."
She wanted to listen, she really did. But, the shuttering cameras and bright blinking bulbs was enough to get her hesitating just enough that she couldn't keep up. She didn't want to be seen like this, not after the way this night had turned out.
As attentive as Harry was, always observant, he was on a mission and that didn't include (Y/N) dragging while he tried to get her to a safe place.
As he tugged her over the threshold of the door, Stavros still holding it open, she stumbled against Harry's pulling, her heel catching just right. Flashes twinkled in her face, cameras blinking as photographs were taken of her stumbling outside, clinging to Harry with her breath caught in her throat. The toe of her pump dragged over the concrete, her lost balance weighing her down until Harry righted her, steadying his grip around her waist with his free hand reaching for her hip.
"Y'alright?" he murmured to her, suddenly breathless as he helped her back onto her feet.
"I'm okay," she told her, voice a peep under the bright attention.
Pressing questions were spewed in her direction, many asking who Harry was, why she was in Paris, and how drunk she was. (Y/N) ignored them all, focusing on following Harry who now led the group towards the waiting cars.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice low for her ears only, "I didn't mean to trip you."
(Y/N) shook her head. "It's okay," she assured him, eyes on her feet to calculate her steps, "I just want to go home."
"We will." Harry's simple answer was just that before he quickened his pace, allowing (Y/N) to keep up as they pushed through the throng of photographers waiting outside the club.
With Stavros heading up the back of their procession, many of the paparazzi were unable to follow any of the girls without getting through him first. As kind as he was, she could tell he used that Greek glare to his advantage, acting as if he couldn't believe they were following him while being an oblivious block in the road.
That extra distraction allowed Harry to lead the group somewhere safe, around the side of a building a little too narrow for anyone else to follow. Two black sedans were parked against the curb.
Without hesitation, Harry adjusted his grip on (Y/N), practically hugging her to his chest. She curled into him, fitting her forehead against the column of his throat with her arms a bundle between them. Harry cradled her with his arms around her waist, keeping her safe with him after the chaos that erupted.
She could hear him speaking over her head to Emma and Stavros, ensuring they were going to take care of Francesca and that he had taken care of the fees of their reserved vehicle. She wanted to participate, tell Emma she was sorry for the night's turn and assure Stavros that every night (Y/N) was involved in didn't dissolve into a scrambled mess, but instead she kept herself warm against Harry's chest and let him do the talking for them. She would call Emma later she decided—maybe text her if her hangover didn't allow phone calls in the morning.
"That one's yours," Harry directed, (Y/N) noticing his words only when he unlinked an arm around her to point, "It was nice to meet you. Get home safe."
Stavros answered back in broken English while Emma was busy herding Francesca along with them. Muttered discussion could be heard with the driver of their vehicle before car doors were opens and slammed shut. The sound reverberated for a moment, before silence settled.
"Our turn?" (Y/N) asked, pulling away to look up at Harry holding her.
His lips were thin, eyes downturned as he gazed at her. "C'mon," he responded, loosening his hold in exchange for leading her towards the single waiting sedan
He took charge, speaking to the driver through the rolled down window, even if his French was less than stellar. Once all the details and verifications are figured out, Harry helped her in the backseat, pushing her in first before leaning in and helping her buckle up. While (Y/N) had anticipated that cushion of space to be between them as usual, he surprised her by sliding in right at her side, a long arm laying across the top of the seat behind her head.
Peeking through the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught the driver eyeing she and Harry, her brown eyes fluttering with recognition. (Y/N) curled into herself then, dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap while Harry's dropped to the cuff of her shoulder. In French, he reiterated the address of the penthouse when their driver didn't immediately pull away from the curb.
Once the road was under their tires, the sound of the gear shifting and setting them off away from the club, (Y/N) felt herself begin to relax. Even if their driver knew who she was, it was a less daunting experience than waiting outside of a paparazzi litter club while waitstaff inside were no doubt spinning rumors about her low class and patrons were spitting over the fact they had to foot the bill they ran up.
Casting her memory back to the front of the night was enough to exhaust her into slumping against Harry's shoulder.
"I want water," she blurted out, nestling into the divot between his shoulder and chest.
Harry pulsed his arm around her frame, keeping her warm against his chest. "I'll get y'some water as soon as we're back, yeah?"
"I want to take my makeup off, though," she mused, a pinch appearing between her brows though her eyes fluttered closed.
"We'll take your makeup off when we get back, yeah? First thing."
"I want food, too."
A breathy laugh disturbed where she was cuddled into him. "I'll get y'something to eat when we get back, yeah?"
Mulling it over for a lingering second, (Y/N) agreed with a nod of her head. "Yeah," she parroted, pleased enough with his operation.
The gentle motion of the turns and slow stops the car made was enough to settle (Y/N) into a light trance, her head filling with sleep-puffed clouds. She forced herself to stay awake, hoping the elapsed time was as long as it felt.
"I didn't get to say bye to the girls," (Y/N) said, hoping to keep herself awake enough for Harry to get her water, food, and her makeup off like he promised.
"I told them you'd call, or you can text them later," he explained, shifting over the leather of the seat.
"You don't think they're mad, right?" she pressed, voice quieter, "That I ruined everything with those guys?"
A pause of silence sat as the third passenger for a moment, heavy before Harry spoke. "Of course, they're not. 'S not your fault any of that happened—you're jus' too nice sometimes, that's all."
"No one's ever said that about me before." (Y/N) couldn't help the short smile that tickled the corners of her mouth.
"What do you mean?"
"That I'm too nice," she beamed, snuggling closer to Harry, "Usually it's the opposite."
Perfect timing came in the form of their cab stopping outside of the building, easy French words coming from the driver as she turned to talk to Harry. (Y/N) could vaguely hear him thanking her and sending payment off through his phone, before he was sliding across the leather with her in tow.
"Careful," he crooned, offering a hand as she followed in teetering steps.
(Y/N) laced their fingers together without a second thought. Harry solidified the hold in a pulse of his fingers around hers.
She was a step behind him with a blinking flutter of her lashes, forcing her eyes to adjust to the world once more after being shuttered for the duration of the drive. The warm lighting of the building helped her find her footing in the real world, no longer neon like the club or fluorescent like the flashbulbs of cameras. Harry kept a steady grip on her hand, taking her to the leisurely paced elevator.
Staying stuck to his side, huddled into a single corner of the whole cubicle, soft music filled the space between them while (Y/N) recounted the night. While she definitely was not sober, stepping away from the high paced environments allowed her mind to iron out some of the details she didn't think twice about earlier.
"I don't like when people talk to me like that," she murmured, the number on the carousel just blinking past two.
"What do you mean?" The warmth of his gaze landed on the side of her face, his hand heavy in hers.
"That guy," she started, her breathing stuttering through the beginning of a hiccup she swallowed down, "The one at the club. He was mad that I wasn't going to be there to pay for what he and his friends ordered. I think he knew who I was even though he pretended he didn't. He called me a bitch." A beat passed. "I think that girl was his girlfriend, too—the one on the table with him."
Harry stood quietly at her side, the ever-sturdy pillar. He listened, observed. Took everything in, as he always did.
That silence stuck with them as the elevator chimed as they reached their floor. The doors parted for Harry to usher her through, taking her to the door before unlocking the knob and helping her forward. It wasn't until they were alone, in their private space, that he spoke again.
"I did hear him say those things," he murmured, his voice tight.
"It was mean, wasn't it?" she asked, kicking her shoes off by the front door, her toes aching after holding her weight for the night.
"It is," he affirmed, waiting for her to grow steady on her feet before he started towards the kitchen. True to his promise, he started with a glass of water for her, setting it on the counter before he was raiding the cabinets for a snack. He didn't look at her when he spoke again, keeping his attention forward. "You know none of that is true, though, right?"
"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, sipping her water with her eyes trained on his back.
Returning with leftover gougères from the day before (Harry had become really fond of bisqué now that she showed him it didn't matter the season, soup was always a good choice), he set the cheese-baked pastries as her side before he leveled her gaze.
"No matter what he said,'' Harry started, his words slow and deliberate, "You're not a bitch,"—he all but choked around the word—"It's not up to you to pay for him and his idiot friends. He was trying to take advantage of you."
"I know," she swallowed, the words hitting a soft part of her muddled brain, "B-But now there's another person that thinks I'm bad."
"I don't think that, though," he said after a beat, his voice considerably softer, matching the moss of his eyes, "Fran and Emma don't think so—neither does Sully. We all know who y'actually are, and I think that counts for something."
Standing quietly, bare feet against the tile of the kitchen, (Y/N) allowed his words to swim in her brain. She soaked them in as much as she could, the weight of them heavy.
"You really don't think so?" she pressed, dropping her gaze to the collar of his fitted shirt, "Even after... everything, and all the stuff my father told you?"
Harry shook his head, a loose curl splaying across his forehead. "What your father says, means nothing to me. Everything I've seen, is y'trying your best. You're put in hard situations, and then expected to know how to handle them on your first try, all while everyone watches. It's not fair."
Overloaded, (Y/N) tried to cling to every word he was saying. She dearly hoped she would remember this in the morning, or at least the feeling of it all. The feeling of that light hope in her chest, brighter than that of whatever French bisqué she made or fanciful purchase could inspire.
Harry understood her.
"That's exactly how it feels sometimes," she confided in him, blindly reaching out in hopes of catching the hem of his shirt before he did her one better and bundled both of her hands in his own. "I love Fran, I do," she told him, letting his gaze with her own soft eyes, "But, she doesn't understand me like that—like you do."
"I wish more people understood you," Harry murmured, his words quiet enough (Y/N) wasn't sure if she heard him right.
"You're like my best friend, now," (Y/N) responded, hoping he could catch her sincerity even if she was a little plastered.
Those searching eyes traipsed around the planes of her face, skipping along every contour and highlight. She wished she knew what was going on in his head, what thought he had when he catalogued her like a fine gown.
"C'mon," he beckoned her, unlacing one hand from hers only to grab the plate of gougères, "Let's eat, then we'll get ready for bed."
(Y/N) pliantly followed, the Eiffel Tower glimmering through the windows of her balcony.
—————
Slipping out of her bedroom, (Y/N) cast her eyes around in hopes of finding Harry lounging about.
Last night was a whirlwind that ended with her snuggled in her bed, makeup off and hair braided back but still in her dress. She woke with a half eaten gougère on her bedside table, alongside a glass of water and a small bottle of aspirin. While parts of the night were muddied, many things were still clear—including the way Harry handled her and helped take care of her friends.
That also meant she remembered the small string of photographers that had waited outside the club, cameras flashing as she stumbled over her own feet.
Against her better judgement, she couldn't help but to check her phone after blinking the sleep out of her eyes, wanting to see what exactly—if anything—was being written by her.
The photos were the first things she saw, many of them favoring headlines featuring a specific shot of her clinging to Harry as she almost fell, the hem of her dress riding up and Harry's grip strong around her waist. The nature of their relationship was once again called into question, as if his hold was anything but protective. Some even captioned the photos of him whispering to her, apologizing for tripping her, as him whispering sweet nothings into her hair.
Honestly, many of the articles were on the tame side, the headlines being nothing more than clickbait. The worst they spoke on was her "leg-baring dress", while much more of the pieces were spent speculating about Harry once more and recounting the 132 Gala news.
She'd definitely seen worse about herself. While none of this was the preferred outcome, it was one she could get through. Hopefully, with the time zones, her father wouldn't see the news just yet.
After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she left her phone on her bed while venturing outside the suite. Instead of finding Harry like she hoped, she was instead left with a view of an empty apartment, a single glass of her purple smoothie left on the counter.
A smile bloomed on her fatigued cheeks when she noticed the dirtied blender in the sink, scraps of fruit having been tossed in the trash with a freshly wiped down countertop. Harry had to have made this one.
Maybe that was why it tasted that much sweeter when she took the first sip. Even without the matcha and collagen she usually requested, she felt much more awake.
Straw tucked between her lips as she sipped her smoothie, (Y/N) debated tracking down Harry to his bedroom, wishing so badly she could see him again in the right-frame of mind.
Those reassurances he uttered to her the night before were sitting in her head, perfect like a present waiting for her to wake up to. Perhaps that's what had made the sensationalized stories about her much more palatable. What did it matter what they and anonymous blogs said when Harry reiterated how many people in her life knew her and cared for her.
Turning back towards the living room, she spotted him through the crystal windows on the balcony doors, coffee in hand as he made a home in the lounger. She tried not to overthink it all as she crossed the room, gently knocking on the door before pushing it open.
"Morning," she murmured, stepping out onto the balcony with him.
Harry's posture straightened, his sleepy eyes gazing up at her through the shadow of his lashes. "Morning. How are you feeling?"
Taking a long sip of the smoothie, she hoped he caught the way almost a third of it was gone already. "Definitely been better. So much for not drinking, right?" she joked, taking a seat beside him in her own lounger.
"Y'weren't too bad," he answered, his own amusement leaking through his words. "Y'don't feel sick or anything?"
Turning her gaze towards the city, she watched the sun rise over the Eiffel Tower, remembering what it looked like with all the twinkle light just hours before.
"No, I'm alright. Thank you for getting me food and medicine and everything."
"Of course," he answered simply, taking a sip of his own coffee.
From the corner of his eye, his gaze lingered on the smoothie in her hand. The ghost of a dimple touched his cheek.
For the first time in a while, especially after everything she had read being posted about them—about him—, she didn't feel the need to explain or apologize.
Harry knew her. He knew her enough to know the difference between tabloid features and facts. Even knowing what would undoubtedly be said about him if he were pictured so closely with her—whether it be because of his job or the fact she felt she could call him a friend—he didn't shy away from holding her tight and making her feel safe in the midst of everything.
Instead of offering any kind words, (Y/N) scooted her chair that much closer to his, eyes on the Tower.
—————
"(Y/N), how many times do we have to talk about this?"
Without missing a beat, (Y/N) kept cleaning up the kitchen after having made lunch for she and Harry, her father's voice nothing more than dull background noise as she left the call on speaker. The mute feature was being utilized as he raged at her, not a second thought in her head being spared over his grilling.
It was a waste of time, she decided. That was the kind of mood she was in today, and that was the kind of daughter he would be getting. Though, to notice at all, would mean that he would have to actually pay attention and let her speak instead of spilling off rhetorical questions before hitting her with insults once.
It'd been a full day since the articles had been posted about her, more and more photos resurfacing of her stumbling outside and being led away with Harry, while blogs were posting grainy photos from the inside of the club before things went downhill. She knew a phone call like this was coming.
The only new addition to this particular berating, was the silent audience that was sitting on the couch.
Harry, leaning against the arm of the couch, had his arms crossed, one hand at his side in a heavy fist with the other cupping his chin, elbow bent to rest on his other wrist. His gaze was unfocused, a piece of flooring holding his attention while he listened to whatever it was that her father was serving up for the day.
From the way his features pinched and this fist as his side progressively tightened into a white-knuckled grip, she could only imagine the kind of things her father was sharing. He didn't even know there was an audience there to listen in, let alone that it was Harry. No filter was being applied as he spoke.
Wringing out her washcloth in the sink, (Y/N) tuned in just enough to hear a question that had her hands stuttering.
"Is Harry not enough for you?" her father asked, disappointment dripping from his tone, "Do I need to find someone else to look after you? Do you need a whole team to keep you in line?"
She rushed to pick up her phone, taking the call off speaker and mute as she pressed it to her ear.
"No, no," she interrupted him, uncaring of the snap that would be given back for cutting him off, "Harry's doing a good job, just... You know how I am."
Turning her back to Harry as she spoke, she attempted to find some kind of privacy as if she weren't the only one speaking in the room. He could hear every word—every plea she was about to make to ensure he kept his job with her.
While she took it as a positive that her father wasn't suggesting to replace Harry, she definitely didn't want anyone else added to the mix. Harry is more than enough for her.
On the other end, her father scoffed. "Don't I," he mused, (Y/N) able to imagine the rolling of his eyes through the phone. "I don't know what to do, (Y/N)," he started, heaving a sigh, "I've reached out to publicists and handlers, and anyone in the industry to help. No one wants to touch your reputation. It's preceded you at this point, no one wants to work with a brat. I don't have many options left."
Grateful for the fact her back was facing Harry, she felt a warmth hit under her skin. It was a humiliating thought—knowing that others all around her had spoken so lowly that even publicists that deemed any publicity as good publicity wouldn't touch her.
"I know," she conceded, swallowing around her dry throat, "But, I don't think any more security is a good idea. It would look bad, don't you think?"
She was grasping at straws a bit, hoping to dig into the image he held so dear. The one thing he cared about when it came to her.
A beat passed before he spoke once more, his voice distant and musing. "Now, you're thinking. I think I might have another idea, then."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I think I have an idea," her father perked on the other side, "Let me make a few calls and then I'll get back in touch."
"Okay, u—"
"In the meantime, (Y/N)," he cut her off, "I'm going to make it especially clear—again—that you need to have your head on straight. You're not making anything easy on anyone when you act like this—myself and Harry included. Stop being selfish and think before you act."
His tone was definite. Everything he said was nothing more than a slightly different variation of everything he'd already told her. She needed to try harder not to make everything her fault.
"I know," she answered, a detached response that had been drilled into her, "I'm working on it."
"Good. Talk to you later."
With that, before she had a chance to utter her own goodbye, her father hung up. Dead air filled the kitchen as she pulled her phone from her ear, slipping the device into her back pocket.
"What was that?" Harry asked, not waiting for her to face him before firing off.
Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) turned to look at him, fiddling awkwardly in the middle of the small kitchen. "He said he wanted to get you more help—like, more security—, but I was able to get him off that idea. Now, he says he has another idea, but he won't tell me about it until he calls later. He said he had to talk to a few people first."
Unimpressed, Harry hummed in response. His gaze finally focused when it landed on her face, his pupils exacting and calculating. "Does he always talk to you like that?"
That wasn't what she expected of this inquisition. She suddenly felt uncomfortable under his eyes.
"Sometimes," she answered, trying to keep her features a blank slate, "Only when I mess up, though. It's not a big deal, I never listen anyway."
His gaze was unflinching, unwavering. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," she said automatically, no longer wanting to speak of her father or his words. "Anyway, I feel like he's just going to open a foundation in my name or something—that's his big idea. He does it every once in a while, just to make us all look charitable."
Harry traipsed his eyes over her form, taking in every detail of her body language and every minute frame of an expression. She felt exposed the longer he watched her.
Eventually—finally, finally—he released her, standing from his station on the arm of the couch with a sigh. "Whatever he comes up with, I'll be there, yeah? We'll work it out together."
Even Francesca, her best friend and closest person, hadn't been able to promise what Harry was giving her. She knew he really would be there with her, every step she took now coming with a pair.
(Y/N) allowed a gentle smile to bloom on her features, watching as he softened some.
"Yeah."
—————
Unable to help herself, still curious to the fact this person had found her Paris address, (Y/N) opened the flap to the newest letter that had been dropped in her mailbox.
The admirer's newest perspective came in high quality photos from the club. There were photos of her dancing with Marc—though his face was marred with markings she was too scared to investigate further. There were photos of her sipping drinks with Francesca and Emma before the night devolved, Harry noticeably cropped from the shots though (Y/N) knew he wouldn't have been that far away. Similar markings to what had marred Marc's face reappeared, this time sketching around her face in rudimentary hearts and shapes. Those made her feel the most queasy.
On the backside of some of the photos, it seemed this person felt they had inside information, claiming to know she hadn't wanted to dance with Marc. They apparently knew she hadn't wanted to go out at all, that she was much too private for this kind of scene and someone had to be forcing her to do this for some reason. It hadn't been her fault that she had stiffed the table (a fact that was far from the truth, seeing as how no one from the club had contacted her or Francesca. Something had to have been worked out). It hadn't been her fault that she left with Harry the way she did, curled into his arms and clinging to him like a vine. She would have never touched him if it was up to her own accord—at least that's what the admirer claimed.
Everything was written in short, messy sentences, barely legible as if written with the author's non-dominant hand. The rest of the story lay in the typed letter she knew was tucked inside the envelope, the musings of someone determined to fit her into the box of their liking.
Her palms felt sweaty as she looked at a photo of her face, the lens having zoomed in to catch the pucker of her lips around the cocktail straw, eyes glazed in alcohol.
How someone had snuck a camera in and Harry hadn't noticed—or at least mentioned it to her—she didn't know. And a part of her didn't want to.
It was easier to ignore this whole thing, she decided. Bundling the pictures back into the envelope, (Y/N) rushed to place it in her room, the bottom drawer of her vanity gaining a new addition.
—————
Staring at her phone, (Y/N) couldn't feel anything but dumbfounded as she reread her father's messages.
Dad
I have a friend from the country club that is interested in taking you out on a date. He's planning on flying out to Paris by the end of the week, and I expect you to go out to dinner with him, to show him and the world why a man like him would be willing to go out with you.
He's a successful philanthropist with a good reputation. I think he's the perfect person for you to get to know, and learn how to behave with. It will be good for you to be seen with him.
Be on your best behavior.
This was not at all what she could have ever imagined his big plan would be. More than a little far off from the suspected charity Gala that would be thrown in her name.
She'd been set up before with the sons of investors and introduced to men he thought would help further him in his dealings. All of those instances had been made in the name of his business—made for his best interests. Never had he set her up with the intention of strengthening her reputation or showcasing her for nothing other than publicity.
Though, from the way her father spoke, she doubted the other man knew it had anything to do with her reputation. As far as he knew, he was being set up with a friend's darling daughter for a romantic evening in Paris.
The thought had (Y/N) cringing.
She was supposed to go on a date? To convince people she wasn't a bitch?
(Y/N) was angry. Uncomfortable. Upset. Anything that was the opposite of happy was pulsing through her veins. What was her father thinking?
Did Harry know anything about this?
Heavy in her middle, (Y/N) wanted to rush to Harry's side, ask him if he knew anything about these plans. If he did, she wanted to assure him that she had no feelings tied to this man or this date—that he was nothing to her mind. She wanted to tell him she didn't want to go on this date, that she was being forced to see another person despite having purely opposite feelings.
She wasn't sure why exactly she felt it was so important to make that much clear, but it was enough to get her off of her bed and out to the living room.
Sitting on the couch, was Harry with a book in his hand, the cover showcasing the name of a famous French designer. He bookmarked his place with a finger as he looked up at her, taking in her shower-softened form and silky pajamas on her form.
"Going to bed?" he asked, the gauzy curtains having been dropped around the windows to the balconies.
Suddenly, she felt a bit silly having bustled out of her room the way she did. What did it matter if Harry thought she wanted to go on a date with this man? Why would he care about who she dated? All he needed to know was where she was going and if he would be needed for security.
"In a minute, but—um—" she started, fiddling with her phone in her hands.
Shifting on the cushion he'd taken up, he narrowed his gaze with a pinch to his brows. Properly marking his spot, he left his novel to be placed at his side, the full of his attention placed on his client.
"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" His gaze skipped over her form, examining for any bit of her that needed his help.
"I'm okay," she assured, shifting on her feet, "It's just..." Harry waited patiently-impatient, unwavering eye contact. "My dad texted me," she blurted.
"Yeah?" he pressed, his elbows setting on his knees as he leant towards her, "What did he say?"
Swallowing, she tried to shrug in nonchalance. "You know how he said he had an idea after those pictures of us at the club?" she questioned, listening for Harry's hum of acknowledgment before continuing, "I guess his side was to set me up with someone he knows from the country club. For a date. This weekend."
Forcing the words through her throat, she watched and waited for Harry's reaction. Though he was much better than she ever would be as keeping a poker face, everything internalized.
"Yeah?" was his only response.
"He said this guy has a really good reputation, with charities and all. He's hoping that being seen with him will help make me look better—PR and all." She struggled around the next bit of information, unwilling to say it out loud as if it would make it real. "I think he really wants me to date him, though—this friend. I don't think he knows my father's setting it up the way he is.
Contemplative and deliberate like always, Harry waited before pressing, "Do you know this man? Or would this be the first time you meet him—for this date?"
"I-I'm not sure who it is, but if I knew him already I think my father would have said so. I think this weekend would be the first time." She was more than embarrassed the more he asked. What kind of child had to be set up on playdates so they learned how to behave?
"This isn't the same man that made you uncomfortable before, then?" Harry's voice suddenly held an edge, recalling Barron at the 132 Gala.
"No, not him."
"Okay," he mused, the gears in his brain almost visibly grinding away as he thought through every and any scenario. "Do y'want me to be there with you?"
The edge of her phone case became the most interesting thing in the room then, her fingers picking at the molding. She swallowed, remembering that trapped, angry feeling she had when she read his messages the first time.
"I don't want to go at all," she started, fitting her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know, maybe we could go out this week, and I'll make a scene or something? It could make him mad enough that he calls the whole thing off, and we won't have to deal with it at all."
"No, we're not doing that," Harry immediately intervened, frustration lacing through his tone, "'S not worth him getting upset with you over."
"I know," she told him, a defeated slope to her shoulders, "But, I don't want to go. Especially not with him—whoever he is. I-I'd rather stay with you."
The air softened around them as the words hung between them. Peeking through the fan of her lashes, she caught the easy stare he gave her.
"It's going to be alright, (Y/N)," he assured her, his frustration having melted into something soft and pliable, "I'm going to be there with you."
"I'm sorry," she reflexively shared, her tongue working before her brain.
"What for?"
For going on a date with someone that isn't you.
"I don't know," she answered, "For taking up your weekend with something stupid, I guess."
"And what else would I have done instead?" Harry countered, his tone anything but biting, "Y'act like I'm not here jus' for you."
While she knew he didn't mean it the way it sounded, there was a small hand in her heart that clutched at the idea.
"Don't worry about it for now, yeah? Jus' sleep on it, and we'll take again in the morning. If there's anything else we can do, we'll figure it out then. Okay?"
He was always so in control, the voice of reason she lacked in these moments.
"Okay. Thank you."
"I've got you," Harry answered simply, reaching for his book once more. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."
Sparing one last glance at her bodyguard huddled on the sofa of her Parisian apartment, fashion book in hand, (Y/N) inched towards her bedroom feeling a touch lighter.
"Goodnight, Harry."
—————
s'entendre is a French word for the feeling of understanding someone; to get someone
only a few more parts! thank you sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas or whatever please send them in!
#writing#harry#harry styles#harry one shot#harry imagine#harry blurb#harry au#bodyguard harry#harry x reader#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles ay#bodyguard harry styles#harry styles x reader#love on tour#pleasing#harrys house#as it was#satellite
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Sympathy for Breakfast
(Part 1)
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Time Written - 9:03 p.m
(Completely unrelated photo it’s just funny to me, also just a silly part 2 for no reason. SFW silly, he stands like this for a majority of this Drabble)
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The early rays of morning sun sent an irritating glare of bright light through his mask when he feels a faint rumble, making him instinctively reach for his phone.
You coming home soon?
I have a surprise :)
Love you <3
Jason smiles at the screen, feeling glad that his girl woke up on the good side of the bed. However, he checked the time, slowly growing concerned as to why you were up so early.
The diner the both of you adored on weekends and midnights wasn’t even open yet.
A handful of thoughts course through his tired brain. Some of them concerning, some of them far from appropriate.
“Good morning, Mister Hood.” You smile from your position on the ground as he shuffled himself through the front door, carrying double bagged to-go boxes in hand.
The only comfort he had at this moment, besides the fragrant hot coffee inside the machine pot, was seeing your smiling, well rested expression. Your hair was styled to keep out of your way as your main focus, the ‘surprise’, was the project the two of you had been putting off on for a while.
“Babe, what’re you doing?”
You sat criss cross on the living room floor in front of an ash gray, large convertible crib, newly put together by yourself alone.
“Built the crib! Isn’t it pretty?” You extend your hands out towards the sight, the crib equipped with every detail perfectly in place. All you had to do left was add in the bedding onto the new mattress for your son, and it’s fully finished.
A very special bed for a very special boy, already loved before he’s even born.
“The box weighed a ton.” Was Jason’s first statement as he eyed the empty box and scattered foam borders. He sets his helmet and breakfast on the dining room table, approaching the messy living room.
“It wasn’t heavy,” you quickly state, gesturing your head over towards the corner of the living room, where the box had sat behind the couch for a good three months.
“It was super easy too! What do you think?” You immediately ask, not liking how he was too concerned for everything but the surprise.
Their was a cute, eager glimmer in your eyes as you stared up at him, like a little girl showing off her extravagant art piece. Right there, he understood why you had lately become quite OCD with all the baby’s essentials.
Sorting out all the supplies, washing all the clothes, ordering a new baby blanket set because it didn’t arrive in the shade of teal blue you wanted.
Nesting. You were nesting.
Cute.
“It’s nice,” Jason says, tilting his head as he examines the large crib. How the hell his eight month pregnant sweetheart built this heavy crib all on your own was a full body shiver he tried very, very hard to refrain expressing.
“Yeah, very nice. How’s it, uh… how’s it gonna fit through the door?”
“What?” Your smile slowly drops. “Huh?”
“I mean, it’s pretty wide?” Jason peeks over towards their semi open bedroom door. “I don’t think the crib will fit through…”
You go quiet, looking over at the crib you were proud of merely seconds ago.
“Huh??”
You express once more, noticing this large, extravagantly built crib, with bottom drawers prepared to pack in freshly washed baby clothes, would be a little too wide to push through the bedroom door. Especially with the bed in the way.
“But this took … this took forever!” Your voice held that tremble that Jason suspected would come, making him playfully pout.
“Awww, Princess.” He tried so hard to hold back a smile or laugh, quickly failing behind his gloved palm.
“Don’t laugh!” You yell up at him. “I was so proud of myself! This was the one time we buy something from IKEA, and I didn’t have to second guess the instructions a hundred times! Now you’re saying it won’t fit through the door!”
Cause it won’t. Jason wasn’t cruel enough to voice it, simply gazing down at his love, who hid her face from his view, still perched in the center of empty screw bags, power tools, and ever so finicky foam beads.
As tired as he was from patrol, this topped the cake of interesting things to happen yet.
He wasn’t delighted to see you cry aggravated tears from this daunting realization you completely missed, but the outcome of your hard work at such an early hour… only to be stumped, it’s funny. Jason can’t help that.
His shoulders bounced with his light laughter, settling down in front of his woman, who had exhausted hands covering that pretty face from him.
“S’okay Princess. Crib looks gorgeous, an’ you still possess all fingers and toes. Proud of you, but no more heavy lifting. Alright?”
His soft praise and gentle warning fell on acknowledging ears, but responded to with shameful silence. Jason couldn’t help that you were a little impatient with exciting tasks, he wouldn’t ask you to change that.
It’s like asking him to stop his horrible, eye rolling humor. Or twisted, cruelly timed jokes. It’s impossible.
He softly shushes you, kissing the top of your forehead. His eyes glance back to the crib, overall impressed at how you put it all together so well by yourself.
At the start of living in your own apartment, the both of you took many IKEA dates. Each night ended up in some form of aggravated frustration over a piece of furniture placed wrong, or the irritation of an extra screw from a missing slot once the entire piece was already finished.
“You take your vitamins?” Jason prompts, watching your head slowly shake no, still sniffling behind your hands.
You were too fixated on building the crib and getting everything together, you forgot the key component of a successful pregnancy; to worry about your own health. The biggest of priorities.
Yep. Nesting.
“We’ll eat, take your vitamins, an’ have our food comas. No worries ‘bout the crib mama, I’ll take care of it.”
Jason’s soothing voice was almost enough to settle your nerves, or the mention of food actually.
“Did you go to Benny’s?”
“Mhm. Got your favorite.”
“Can you help me up?” You reluctantly ask, giving him those pink flushed puppy eyes that he couldn’t go against.
“Whatever the lady wants.”
Tired muscles slip underneath your arms, cradling your sides as he helps you up off the ground. Your swollen belly nudges against his abdomen, making his heart melt. He wondered if your manic rush of dopamine woke up his boy, softly smirking at the idea of you chastising your relentlessly kicking son whilst building his future bed.
“Baby boy missed you, by the way.” You say, as if you just read his mind.
God, kill him already. His twice beating heart can’t take much more of this.
“He just wants food,” Jason chides before stepping to the side, letting you slowly waddle to the kitchen.
“We’re all on the same boat, Papa.”
God, please scratch that last thought. He’s in heaven.
Jason’s exhaustion didn’t stop him from nudging you towards your seat, taking the empty mugs from your hands to fill them with Colombian roast.
He wasn’t just being courteous; he was making sure you didn’t have too much caffeine, diluting the majority of your cup with your preferred milk.
After taking those vitamins you needed, Jason finally allowed himself to sit down and rest, too lazy to pull off anything other than his tactical belt and leather jacket.
He watches the love of his life through hooded eyes open your plate, your expression brightening as if you didn’t just sob over the crib mishap. Something he most definitely wasn’t going to mention at a manor dinner about three years from now.
Fluffy blueberry pancakes, piled with fresh fruit and savory sausage on the side. Honey cinnamon butter, and extra syrup. All topped with chocolate chips.
Beside it, an egg white spinach, cheesy omelette. With vegan cheese, for some odd reason. Suddenly, you had as much distain to cheddar and mozzarella, possibly most dairy, as you did to egg yolks in your omelettes.
This was your breakfast, The only meal out of your three meals a day that wasn’t invaded by a strange concoction of spicy pickles or vinegar based hot sauce. Or any other horrible last minute choices.
Something tells Jason that he’s going to see cake eaten for breakfast after the birth for a good while. Not like he’s going to complain, honestly.
Whatever he can do to combat the birthing blues, but that’s a concern for the future.
“Babe.”
“Hm?” You glance up from your plate before you dug in, seeing that same gentle smirk he carried on his face for the past four minutes.
“I was kidding, by the way.” His smile slowly grew the quicker it sets in, expecting to get pummeled by fruit after this;
“The crib will fit through the door.”
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x fem!reader#dc jason todd#jason todd x y/n#x pregnant reader#jason todd x female!reader#jason todd dc#Jason Todd x#let’s go to Benny’s guys
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I think I got mugged... Carmen Berzatto X reader
Reader's pronouns- (She/Her)
Word Count- 2,063
Summary- Reader gets mugged on her way to work and tries to act like it is no big deal but Carmy forces her to sit down and patches her up.
"Y/N why the hell are you so late? We are slammed! Carmy's losing his ever-loving mind!" Richie shouts at me before I even fully step through the door.
"Shh. You are being so loud right now," I groan while holding my head.
Richie looks at me and grimaces," Woah you look like shit!!"
"Thank you that's exactly what every woman wants to hear. You must be drowning in ladies." I roll my eyes because I am well aware I look like shit I don't really need to hear it.
"Ha ha Y/N you are so funny... but seriously are okay?" Richie fake laughed then looked at me seriously.
"Yeah... I think I got mugged or something... but it's chill," I mumbled a tad embarrassed because I may or may not talk a big game of being tough.
Richie's jaw dropped and he shouted "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK YOU WERE MUGGED! YOU WERE EITHER MUGGED OR NOT MUGGED!"
At this loud statement, courtesy of Richie Carmy peeks his head out of the window and Sydney comes out to check on guests.
Sydney pauses what she's doing and concernedly says "Y/n are okay?" Then proceeds to shout as well "Is that blood!"
I touch my head and feel the warm wetness on my head, "I suppose it is.. can we just stop the shouting though so I can finish walking in the door and actually help with the rush."
Carmen is instantly rushing out of the kitchen at the statement, "There is no way you are working today!"
"I swear I am fine! I will clean up in the bathroom and get right to work." I attempt to walk away but fail miserably as Carmen instantly grabs my arm.
"Bullshit you are not fine! You are bleeding from your head! If you won't take care of yourself I will do it for you. Sydney cover for me!" Carmen seethed so hard I thought smoke would blow out of his ears.
Sydney responds "Yes, Chef." I mouth I am so sorry as Carmen drags me to the back office.
"OOO Carmy is mad," Richie drags out like a high schooler watching a school fight.
"Shut the fuck up, Richie!" Carmen shouts not even looking back.
I clamp my mouth shut and Richie laughs "Good luck Y/N! I'll beat the mugger up for you though if Carmy doesn't get to him first."
I glare at Richie and I kind of blame him for the whole restaurant finding out I was mugged.
Carmy slams the office door open and basically forces me to sit down without saying a single word. I watch him silently as he mumbles profanities and makes a mess looking for something. After tearing half the office apart he pulls out a first aid kit. He shines a flashlight annoyingly close to my eyes and grumbles for me to follow the light.
I chuckle slightly and ask, "What are you a doctor now?"
He simply glares at me and does not say a word. "Um.. are you mad at me for getting mugged? I mean trust I am mad too I lost fifty bucks I am just glad I only had cash on me and not my wallet. I just don't see why you are mad."
He sets the flashlight down and looks at me like I am an idiot. "Are you serious? You do not know why I am mad? Also, you are concussed so you are not working and I am driving you home."
"What! I am so not concussed they barely even pushed me! Can you even diagnose me with a concussion?" I tried to stand up and walk away from him but was instantly pushed back down in the chair.
"I need you to let me take care of you for once," He said like it was no big deal at all but it made me blush so bad. He did not acknowledge it and poured some alcohol on a towel and cleaned the dry blood off the side of my head.
"You know I'd give you a ride to work anytime," he whispers as he puts my hair behind my ear.
"You being all nice now is giving me serious whiplash. I don't mind taking public transportation anyway and my apartment is literally in the opposite direction from yours I could never ask you to go out of your way to just drive me to work. If you are not going to let me work I will just walk home." I went to stand up again and once again pushed back down.
"Let me get my keys I'll drive you home it is not a question. I will drive you to work when you are healthy enough again. Can't have you getting hurt again." he said bossing me around. This time he noticed my blush and quickly added to the statement " Can't have you getting hurt because we can't afford to lose an employee I mean... just stay put let me get my keys."
As soon as he left the office I stood up and sneaked out to the kitchen.
"Hey Marcus what are you working on," I said in a sing-songy voice. He showed me a wide variety of donuts he was taste-testing for his new donut recipe. I instantly took one and started to help him determine the best ones. Then we both heard Carmy shouting "Y/N where did you go? I thought I told you to stay put!"
I hold my head and groan "What crawled up his ass today?"
"Well, maybe the fact you got mugged and he is obsessed with you?" Marcus says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
I laugh at him "Shut up I may be concussed but I am not gullible. "
"You may not be gullible but you are certainly oblivious. Better go your boyfriend is still calling for you." He teases as I roll my eyes.
"I am taking a donut because you are being mean," I say and steal my favorite donut out of the batch.
I walk out of the kitchen while taking a bite of my donut and am greeted by a glaring Carmy. "I thought I told you to stay put."
"You did I just didn't listen," I tease.
"Come on we are leaving. Richie behave, Sydney please hold down the fort." He says and Sydney responds with a yes chef and of course, Richie mocks her.
We go outside and Carmy opens the passenger door for me, "Wow a gentleman."
"Thanks, I can be sometimes," He smiles as he gets in the car.
We sat the majority of the ride in silence he still seemed mad at me and I couldn't stop thinking about what Marcus said he had to just be teasing me.
I notice we are going in the wrong way and go to point it out, "Hey Carmy we are going in the wrong direction maybe that's why you always offer me rides home."
"No that's not why. I am taking you back to my place," He says like it is no big deal at all.
"What!" I shout so loud that it makes me instantly hold my head.
"You obviously aren't going to take care of yourself and you can't go to sleep right after getting a concussion either so someone needs to watch you." He said annoyed.
"I still don't get why you are so angry at me. I appreciate you taking care of me but it's unnecessary and I never asked you to." I responded also annoyed at his attitude towards me.
"The thing you don't realize is you don't need to ask me." He says lowly while gripping the steering wheel.
We arrive at his apartment and I am a blushing mess and there is no way of hiding it. Then he opens the car door for me and again and I am way too nervous for my own liking.
He smirks at my reaction at least he is somewhat happy now even if it is at my own expense. He puts his hand on the small of my back as we ascend the stairs.
He sits me on his couch, "Seriously don't move this time I am going to get you an ice pack and make you some breakfast because we both know you always skip it."
"Do you even have food in your fridge we both know you don't even feed yourself," I jest and he laughs.
"You know me so well," he smiles and kisses the top of my head.
I instantly flush at this gesture and he again walks away like it is no big deal. For someone saying he just wants to take care of me, he is certainly stressing me out.
"Okay, I found cereal the milk has gone bad though... on the bright side I also have peanut butter and crackers." He comes back with peanut butter crackers on a plate and a box of cereal.
"My savior," I put my hand on my chest.
"Yes what I crave to be," he responds back.
"Is that why you crave to drive me to work when I can just take the bus and walk the two blocks after?"
He rolls his eyes, "Would you really rather be mugged than drive to work with me?"
I am quick to defend myself "That's not it all I just don't want to be a hassle!"
"You a hassle never, well of course when you refuse to listen but I will never see you that way. Not after all the times you have helped me with the restaurant." He says seriously with a lot of eye contact that makes me feel awkward.
"Well, I am your employee it's what I am supposed to do... but Marcus seems to think we are more," I mumble the last part.
His eyes widen, "What did Marcus say?"
"Does Marcus know something I don't?" I awkwardly smiled. "Marcus did say I am oblivious."
"He shouldn't have said that," He shakes his head.
"I mean it is true I am quite oblivious," I laugh.
He starts mumbling about Marcus and teaches me to open up to him. I put my hand on his shoulder "You know you can open up to me snitches get stitches as I say"
" I mean I didn't want to tell you this way and I wanted to make sure I was good enough," He said.
"What you didn't want to tell a concussed me with a head wound you don't think you good enough? I can assure you are good enough. You are the best chef I have ever known and the smartest guy I have ever met."
"That's not what I meant... but I do appreciate the compliment." He picks the ice pack back up and holds it to my face as I roll my eyes. "What I mean is that I am um good enough for you. I can't focus when you're late to work when you don't text me your nightly I'm Home text. You are distracting my mind no matter what I am doing."
I try to fight the smile appearing on my face but I just can't I feel like the Chesire Cat. "It sounds like you like me," I smirk some more.
" I do."
At that bold confirmation, my face gets extremely hot I must look like a tomato. I look to the side and stutter over my words unsure of what to say " I guess you can drive me to work as long as we go on a proper date together that is not The Bear."
"There is no argument from me," He kisses me making me even redder, more than I thought was possible.
"One more thing to add to these conditions is you must take care of yourself," he whispers in my ear.
"Your one to talk! How about you promise to take care of YOURSELF." I rebuke
"How about we both make sure we are taking care of ourselves," He smirks.
"Deal" I smile and kiss him. I pull back, " I am kinda glad I got mugged today totally worth the fifty bucks."
He shakes his head, " I am glad you think it was worth it I am still incredibly mad they hurt your beautiful crazy brain.
#carmen berzatto#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#the bear x reader#the bear imagine#carmy x reader#carmy x you#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#the bear x y/n#hurt/comfort
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How would paralysed!izuku and reader yk do the deed….bc I need the Deets🏃♀️🏃♀️
... you're disgusting... I love you. Funny enough when I first was writing the ending, I did a lot of research on what happened to people who become paralysed particularly men and damn is it rough out there. Luckily our Izu doing stem treatment so it would probably be easier on him.
Paralysed Dilf Izuku x Reader
Note: this happens a year after the surgery. Contains cunnilingus and mentions of ED.
You sat in bed, reading your book as you sat beside Izuku. It was late already but Izuku said he was having trouble sleeping so you decided that you would stay up with him in the mean time until he got tired enough to sleep. You knew some days were rougher than others, so you stood beside him regardless.
With all the kids in bed and Toshinori gone off to UA, it was nice to have a quiet moment like this.
"Y/N..."
"Hm?" You let out softly as you turned the page of what you were reading.
Izuku hesitated as he sat next to you. He was trying to word this correctly but he wasn't sure if there was a correct way to do this. You waited until he was ready to speak, not pressurizing him as you sat at your place beside him.
"Could we have sex?"
You paused, your body not moving for a second before you turned to look at him. You closed your book, heat moving up your neck and to your face at the question. "Are... are you in the mood for it?" You asked.
He moved a hand to the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. "Not exactly." He told you honestly.
You weren't surprised to be honest. One of the unfortunately aspects of spinal injuries for men is the fact that it often came along side erectile dysfunction. Now you never thought that could happen to your husband at any time in your marriage, considering how insatiable he was. However, after the incident the both of you really didn't even try to explore sex until around two months ago.
With the stem cell therapy and physiotherapy, Izuku was making great stride. However it also caused some random boners that took you by surprise and also your husband.
"But I want to make you feel good." At that statement, your face dropped in surprise but you smiled appreciatively. Izuku looked at you with an honest expression and smile. He offered a hand and you took you carefully. "Even if I don't want pleasure, I want to give you pleasure for as long as you want me to."
You eased with a sigh. You put the book you were reading away on your side table. "Alright... you're lucky that the scene I was reading was spicy." Izuku laughed at your reasoning as you sat back down. "Where do you want- IZU!" Suddenly you felt yourself being grabbed and manhandled up away from where you were sitting.
You found yourself sitting on top of your husband on his chest. You looked down to see Izuku's face between your thighs, a grin on his face. You felt like your face was on fire, it had been so long since the both of you had been intimate together so it felt still so odd to you but not unwanted.
"Izuku!" You furrowed your eyebrows down at him. "How on earth..."
"Honey, I might walk slow but it doesn't mean I have to be slow." He stated plainly.
You huffed as you looked down at him. "But I'm- I'm heavy. I don't want to hurt or strain your spine any more."
Izuku gave you a blunt look almost as if not believing you would use that as an excuse. "Honey, I've stopped a semi-truck from falling down a cliff with my bare hands. You really aren't that heavy." He told you bluntly. "Now, will you keep finding excuses or will you let me eat out my wife in peace."
You looked away from him, your face burning at his words. You let out a sigh as you lifted up the large oversized shirt you were wearing. You worse simple cotton briefs but Izuku would be lying if he said he didn't like them on you. He hummed as he moved his thumb to go up and down your slit, brushing against your clit.
You let out a sigh as you found yourself relaxing on top of him. The feeling of friction finally against your sex was heavenly. You let out soft hums, affirming what he was doing. Izuku focused on rubbing circles on your clit the way you liked it. A moan tumbled out of your lips as you flicked your head back.
Izuku moved your panties to the side. His eyebrows twitched raising in surprise at how wet you were already. It had been a while but he was nevertheless glad you still responded so well to his touch. He took a moment to appreciate you, moving his finger down your slit almost like he was trying to memorise your cunt to memory.
You looked down at him with a frown. "What are you staring at?
"You." He answered dead seriously. He looked up at you with an honest expression. "I've missed you." He whispered softly. You weren't sure if he was talking to you or your sex or both.
You dragged a hand through his curly hair making a hum come out of him. You moved your hands up your thighs before moving to spread your lips for him. "Go on then." You nodded to between your legs. "It's waiting for you."
You felt the grip on your thighs tighten. You made the mistake of making eye contact with Izuku. It was the exact reason he lulled you into his grasp. Those eyes. Those eyes that looked into you like you were everything. His hooded eyes were dark with lust and wanting as he dragged his tongue up your slit, flicking at your clit. You gasped, tensing your thighs.
However, you didn't have a lot of time to brace yourself as he buried his face dead first into your sex. You had to hold a squeal as he start to lap at your sex. Izuku's arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping you seated on his face. You let out a moan as you started to grind your hips down on his mouth.
Izuku lapped at your cunt like a man starved. He licked every drop of essence that left your aching depths like you were water and he was a man stuck in the dessert. He let out a groan, his eyes closing. The feeling of his groan against your clit made you moan.
"Yes..." You whispered. "Yes, just like that Izu." You urged as you thrusted your hips closer to his mouth. You grasped his curls making him groan again. "Fuck~ Like that. Come on." You urged as you started to become desperate.
Suddenly you felt a finger press into you. You flipped your head back as a deep groan left your lips. His fingers always felt better than your own. So much more thicker and so much more filling than yours could ever do to you. You were aching for more of him deep inside you.
You didn't want to be selfish but...
You missed his cock.
You felt another finger press into you making you stretch around his fingers. He curved his fingers, easily finding that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You let out a moan. "Oh fuck! Right there! Right-" The words were taking out of your mouth as you arched your back, your thighs tightening around his head.
He chuckled. Izuku easily moved his fingers, deeply thrusting into your sopping wet hole. He moved his mouth to your clit making you gasp. It was everything all at once. You felt like you were so close. So bloody close. You just needed him to just-
"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't bloody stop." You downright ordered of him as your thighs tensed. Suddenly without warning your toes curled as ecstacy washed over your body. Your body shivered in pleasure as you gripped his hair roughly. You were shaking in pleasure as your body felt like it was floating.
With a gasp you leaned back, moving your sex away from his mouth, trying to take control of your thoughts once more. You took in deep breaths as you closed your eyes. That felt good. It felt really good.
"That was great." You said softly.
"Yah?"
You nodded your head. "Yah." You turned to get off of him. The bottom half of his face was covered in slick which he happily licked off his lips. You shook your head with a flush but couldn't help but giggle. "Thank you Izu, I really needed tha-" Suddenly you stopped speaking as you looked down.
Izuku tilted his head before following your eyes down. Izuku's face bloomed red as the both of you looked at each other before the rather big problem at hand.
"A... Are you hard?" You asked.
Izuku hesitated to answer before looking back up at you with a nervous chuckle. "Surprise?"
Moral of the story?... There's a lot of riding and head involved.
-Glitch1d
#izuku x reader#mha x y/n#izuku midoriya#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku midoryia smut#izuku smut#izuku midoriya smut#mha izuku#deku x reader smut#deku x reader#dilf midoriya#dilf izuku midoriya#dilf izuku x reader
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