#the times he was accepting and generous and kind. when he extended a hand out to all those he encountered hoping for friendship
Text
Could We Not?
ONE SHOT
[ or Part 1 to Not Another Time ]
<< Request >> "Hey! I was wondering if you could do a one-shot where she’s like apart of the band and she gets hit in the head with a hard object while she’s on stage and Harry is super freaked out? That would be a sanity saver!" - @samanddeaninatrenchcoat
Summary: Harry Styles is used to having things thrown at him on stage. Recently, it's been Skittles, which affected his vision. But when his band members are affected, he can't stay silent. Especially when it's YN who takes the hit.
AN: I had a lot of fun writing this! YN replaces Laura in the band, just in general, only because she plays the trumpet and I still included Parris.
Warnings: Some explicit language, wound with blood, angry Harry
He can't escape it. It has carried on from his days in One Direction, and it seems to have become a permanent, unavoidable occurrence that things are thrown at him on stage.
Most are harmless, such as boas, sunglasses, or little plush toys that he is always inclined to keep.
However, there have been a few occasions where the objects were a bit more troublesome. Phones are a big one, which internally annoys the hell out of him at this point.
The most recent culprit, and the most shocking, was a handful of Skittles, one which hit him directly in his left eye. If there is a silver lining of that moment, it's that he only had to get through performing 'Kiwi' before he was able to run backstage and immediately have it taken care of.
He tries not to show anger on stage when things like that happen. He loves his fans. He always wants to treat them with kindness, acceptance, and gratitude. So he doesn't draw much attention to it. There has only been one occasion or two where he has subtly asked for some fans to stop throwing things.
Tonight, however, might be his tipping point.
Harry has brushed off the frustration from the rock hard candy incident, because tonight is a new night and a new show.
There is also the new trumpet player, YN. Well, she isn't new per say, she's been there since the tour came back to North America, but she is the newest member of the band, and the one Harry has become extremely fond of.
She fits in perfectly with the rest of the group. She is so kind, so joyful, and everyone seems to be energized just by her presence. Including Harry. Especially Harry. The moment she walked into the trial rehearsal, he felt an electricity course through his veins that he's never felt before. He shook it off as a mere, and mild, physical attraction. Then she started to play, and he was taken into a trance by her talent and passion. Then she spoke, and he felt his heart flutter more than ever.
He knows he has a crush, one that he can't talk about or act on, but it doesn't stop the forming of a grin when the horn players walk up onto the stage. It doesn't stop the goosebumps he feels when they all begin to play, being able to pick out the sound of her specific instrument. It doesn't stop the thought that those songs, the ones where they get to be there together, may just be his favorite ones to perform.
So when 'Satellite' ends, and after a good chat with the crowd, reading their signs, the four horn players make their way up the stairs as 'Cinema' begins, causing his heart to flutter and his current smile to stretch out into a wide grin.
When they play an extended introduction for 'Music For A Sushi Restaurant', he takes the opportunity to get some water and give her a quick smile, hoping that he actually does see a blush form on her cheeks, even behind her trumpet.
He stays on the outside of the stage for that song, but gets even more excited when the band begins to play 'Treat People With Kindness'. This means YN will move to one of the outside corners, which also means he'll get to be closer to her as he moves around during the song.
He makes sure to pass by her any chance he gets, but tries hard not to make his intentions too obvious, to the crowd or to YN. She's a part of his band, and he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, even if she does appear to reciprocate any smile or slightly flirtatious comment he makes. He wants any move made to be on YN's terms. However, that won't stop him from taking this opportunity to share a little dance with her.
"Wait for it… wait for it… wait for it. One, two, three, four!"
As the crowd shouts out the chorus, Harry stations himself next to her, moving his hips side to side, causing her to pull back from her instrument and let out the most amazing laugh.
He's going to do that every time from now on, just so he can hear that again.
That song ends, and she moves into the center with the rest of the horn players, walking through to the other side of the stage as they start their intro for 'What Makes You Beautiful'.
He moves back to the mic stand in front of the walkway, trying to catch glimpses of her every so often, as she stands near the corner to his left.
"I don't know why you're being shy, and turn away when I look into your eyes."
He takes a few steps to his left, pointing his arms out to the fans and encouraging them to sing the bridge.
At that moment, something whizzes over in his direction and lands by his feet. He takes a quick look down, and then to his left, noticing that YN has moved a few feet over to the other side of the stage. He sees Mitch taking a couple of glances over to her as well, mouthing something, but she nods and continues to play.
As the final chorus nears, the four horn players move back to the center of the stage to play the last parts of the song.
He grabs his mic from the stand and engages the crowd, instantly requesting that they applaud for the horn players. He watches as YN gives a wave to the crowd, confused as to why she isn't doing it as vibrant as normal. She could just be tired, though she usually pushes through it, but it's been an intense leg of the tour in Los Angeles.
The time between that and 'Late Night Talking', while Parris plays his beautiful solo, is usually one of his favorite moments, because he has a little bit more time to interact with her on stage. Even if it's only a quick comment or joke, he loves it and takes what he can get. But as he moves closer to grab his water bottle, he sees her talking to Pauli, who swiftly hands her a spare face cloth that he keeps by him.
Harry immediately frowns and quickens his pace over to her.
"What's wrong?"
She wipes herself off and shakes her head, keeping her gaze downward. He can't remember a time where she wasn't happy and bright. But now she looks embarrassed, and sad, which pains him to see.
"Some… something hit me."
"What? Where? How?" He blurts out, not even fully able to process what she is explaining had occurred.
"A fan threw something. I don't know what it was." She sighs, flickering her gaze up to him with a troubling expression across her face.
"Shit. Are you alright?" He steps closer to her, unintentionally placing his hand on the middle of her back, and he feels her shiver under his touch. He removes it, his eyes fixated on her, and he feels some relief when he sees a small smile appear on her face.
"I'll be okay." She assures him. Her trumpet lifts up to her lips, the ones he has wondered what they would feel like against his, and he realizes that Parris has finished his part. "Let's get on with it."
He bites his lower lip as she gives him a wink, and feels a blush form on his own cheeks. If she knew what she does to him, she probably wouldn't be doing that. But he'll take it.
He sings through the second chorus on the closest walkway, still giddy at the fact that he can pick out her trumpet from the others, and he just knows she is swaying back and forth to the lyrics as she always does.
However, he turns around to make his way back, pointing his mic back out to the crowd, and when he sees YN again, she is holding her fingers against the spot over her left eyebrow.
Instantly his chest tightens and he bounces back over there as the song ends. She makes her way back to the center with the others while he takes a quick gulp of water, turning around when they begin to play 'Watermelon Sugar'.
"I'm bleeding." He hears her state to Parris.
"Okay. Go." Parris replies, and Harry follows after her.
"YN." He tries to shout without causing too much of a fuss, but she steps down the stairs, and he clenches his jaw as he watches her make her way backstage.
This isn't good, and he really hopes he can get through this song now.
"Alright, if… if you know this one, please… please do sing along." He stumbles through his words, his eyes still glaring over to the spot where YN exited.
Performing this one isn't as fun this time, though the crowd are probably none the wiser, as he keeps his professionalism as intact as possible. But it is different. She's usually on the walkway in front of him, dancing away as she plays, causing his heart to flutter each time she moves.
He either closes his eyes or moves around the stage a bit, hoping to momentarily distract himself from her, and stay focused on the music. At least to get through the song.
And thankfully he does.
As soon as it ends, the rest of the horn players make their way off the stage, and Harry immediately rushes over to his little setup in front of Pauli.
"Start playing, but I want to talk with the crowd for a moment." He states into the band mic, for only the crew to hear.
They softly play the melody of 'Love of My Life' and he raises his hand as if to signal that he has something to say.
"Thank you Los Angeles, so much, for all of your support. I, more than anyone, know that I couldn't do this without all of you. I hope you have had a great time." The crowd cheers, and stomps, and he responds with some kisses blown around the venue. Then his expression becomes a bit more solemn and he turns back to the mic. "I want to say that my number one priority for everyone here tonight has been safety. That includes everyone on stage as well."
The crowd immediately hushes, which usually doesn't happen without his lead, and it shocks him. But hopefully it means they'll hear his message.
"I always encourage you to dance, sing, and interact. I always suggest that you treat everyone with kindness. And now, I also ask that you please think about these amazing people on stage, and refrain from throwing things that could potentially hurt someone. One of our members was hurt during a song tonight and unfortunately had to leave." He pulls back, clearing his throat in an attempt to keep his frustration at bay. "We want to be able to keep doing this with you for as long as possible, so we all need to make sure that safety is our top priority. So let's keep it safe and have some more fun. How does that sound, Los Angeles?"
He holds two thumbs up to the fans, swiveling around while everyone begins to cheer again, and walks over to his mic for the next song. The last one before their little break, and before their encore. He'll be done soon.
He knows his energy has diminished a bit, which is fine for 'Love of My Life', because his mind is back on YN. He desperately wants to know if she is okay. Needs to know, at this point.
During the break before their encore, Harry rushed underneath and pleaded with the crew to find out what had happened to YN, and whether she's being taken care of. They assured him that she is fine, but he couldn't get rid of his worry.
He put on his best entertainer persona for the last three songs, feeding off the excitement of the crowd to get him through until the end.
But once 'Kiwi' was finished, he blew kisses to the fans and sprinted backstage, immediately feeling frantic.
"Jeff-"
"H, man, you doing okay?" His manager asks, concern all over his face.
"Where is YN?" Harry quickly asks, not even bothering to answer about himself.
"Huh?"
"Where's YN? She got hit by something. She had to get off stage. Where'd she go?" He asks, feeling frazzled like he never has before.
"Oh. Uh, I haven't seen her, maybe-"
Harry strides off, not really knowing which direction to head, but willing to walk all over the place to find her.
He sees another familiar face, feeling some hope that she'll have an answer.
"Lorren, where's YN?" He asks, hoping his tone is a bit more calm than it was with Jeff, but knowing he could be failing.
"She's in the common room." Lorren replies, a small smirk forming suddenly. "She's okay, Harry."
His eyes grow wide and he stands up straighter, more stable, more casual. Or at least trying to.
"Yeah. Of course. I just… wanted to check in with her." He utters, but her intrigued, raised eyebrow tells him that she doesn't accept his answer.
"Harry…" She chuckles. "I know you care about her more than that…"
"What? No-... I mean…" He sighs, running a ringed hand through his sweaty hair. "Shit."
Lorren laughs again and she puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Your secret is safe with me."
He nods and feels a hot burn flooding his cheeks, not even attempting to hide it since she clearly knows she's right.
"Does she fee-" He begins, immediately stopping as he sees her pull her lips inward. "Nevermind. Doesn't matter. I'm just… gonna check on her."
Lorren nods and smiles, squeezing his shoulder then pointing down the hallway.
"Good luck…" She teases as she walks away.
"What?"
"Nothing." She replies, already opening the door to another room.
He takes a deep breath and turns back around to the direction he needs to go, his steps faster the closer he gets to the room she is occupying.
He opens the door without hesitation, instantly seeing YN sitting on the sofa with an ice pack held on her face, and her phone in the other hand.
He clears his throat as he takes a few steps towards her, slower than they were in the hallway, and his heart pounds faster than it just had been.
"Hello." He utters, not wanting to startle her. She shoots her gaze up to him and he feels butterflies as she immediately smiles. She may have looked different on stage after the incident, but he is happy to see that her bright demeanor seems to have returned. His concern begins to melt away.
"Hi." She responds, putting her phone down, along with the ice pack. She winces as she does, and as he moves to the sofa, he finally sees the large gash on her forehead.
His heart sinks, and he is thankful for the close proximity to the furniture, because his knees almost give out completely as he takes a seat next to her, on the opposite side of where her cut is.
"Fuck, YN, are you alright?" He inquires, his gaze flickering between her gorgeous, sparkling eyes and her anger-inducing wound. His jaw instantly clenches and his palms ball into fists. He can't believe this happened, especially to her. His gaze drops, and he begins to fill with guilt. "I'm so sorry you got hurt."
Suddenly, he feels the warmth and soft touch of her hand on his, causing the tension in his palms to release right away.
"It's not your fault, H. And I'm okay."
He looks up to her again, being met with the gaze he tries hard not to get lost in, but fails every time he's close enough to see it.
"I just…" He sighs and shakes his head, not entirely sure what he wants to express, and worried it could be more than he should. "I just want to… know that you're alright."
"That's sweet." She utters, a tenderness in her tone. He smiles at the irony of her attempt to calm him, when it should be the other way around. "I am. I am alright."
A squeeze of YN's hand grabs his gaze once again, and he just sits in silence as he, once again, gets lost in her eyes.
His hand unintentionally reaches up, gently resting under her chin as he turns her head to view her wound, sighing once more at the sight of it. His thumb reaches up, gliding over her skin, right under the cut, and a tingle rushes over him.
A strong exhale leaves her mouth and he turns her head back to him, his eyes tracing the lines of her lips. He looks back to her gaze, his breath hitching at her beauty, and his body acts on his feelings as he leans in, gently pressing his lips against her own.
She lets out a small sigh, which snaps him back to reality, and he pulls back.
"Shit. I'm… fuck, I'm sorry." His hand drops and he scoots his body further away from her, feeling every ounce of embarrassment possible. He didn't want to make the first move, if there was even one to be made. What if she didn't want it? What if she hated it? "Fuck."
"Please, don't…" She clears her throat, a sudden timidness in her tone. "Please don't be sorry."
Harry's heart begins to race, and he glances up to see her smile. However, a knock on the half-closed door causes both their heads to turn that way, and they both sit up straighter.
"I finally found a bandaid." A venue staff member states, handing it to YN and walking out.
She begins to open it up, removing the strips and exposing the sticky sides, then looks around the room for a mirror.
"Here." Harry reaches out, grazing her hand, and regaining her attention. "Let me."
She hands him the bandage, and he scoots closer again, their thighs barely touching, but just enough for his stomach to fill with butterflies.
He gently places the band-aid over her cut, gliding his thumb over the corners to make sure they stay secured. His gaze drops down, and his breath hitches as he sees her gazing up to him through her lashes.
His palm slides down and rests on her cheek, and she tilts her head upwards, their lips hovering in front of each other.
"Thank you." She whispers, her own hand placing itself on top of his.
Harry attempts to swallow down the lump stuck in his throat, but is interrupted by the sudden soft pressure against his lips. He lets out a quiet whimper, and her hand moves around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. His mouth begins to move with hers, and the tip of his tongue teases the gap between her lips.
She suddenly pulls away, and a frown forms on his face, until her gaze flickers to the door and he hears the chatter in the hallway that must have caused her to stop.
He pushes back, only out of caution and respect for both of their privacy, and grins when he sees her blush.
"You know, I've had recent experience with eye injuries."
"Right. You have." She giggles.
"If you want… you don't have to… but if you want to, you… you could come to my suite." He clears his throat. "To hang out. And I can keep an eye on that injury for you."
"No pun intended." She laughs, and his grin, surprisingly, grows wider. She's still so bright, and he's already down bad.
"I…" She begins, another blush instantly taking over her delicate skin. "I wouldn't mind seeing you looking at me a little more tonight."
"Oh my god." He breaths out, swiftly throwing his palms over his face.
He feels her fingers wrap around his wrist and removes his hands to find her standing in front of him. She tugs on his arm, and he lifts himself off the chair.
"Then maybe I'll get the chance to do the same." She states, biting her lower lip before letting him go and moving around the room to grab her stuff.
Yeah. He's definitely down bad, and despite her being injured, this just may end up being the best show by far.
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Hi, how are you? Please don't judge or kill me! Please, I don't condone this kind of behaviour. So, I have a request about Mads Mikkelsen's character Le Chiffre from Casino Royale.
So Female!Reader's father won against Le Chiffre his money at the casino.
To take revenge, Le Chiffre kidnaps Reader to get revenge on her father. Warning:Kidnapping, Non-con.
Please don't kill me, I don't condone this behaviour.!!! <3<3<3
A/N; Thank you for this request I sure had fun writing it ;) It got longer than i expected but hey, who cares. love you all.
Warnings; Kidnapping, smut, minors get the fuck out or else!
The only reason why you followed your father to Montenegro was to unwind from stressful year at the university. He said he had some business to attend to and he offered you a most generous holiday which you didn’t hesitate to indulge in. First few days were relaxing, you joined a yoga class, got several massages, swam in the sea and also at the pool, however, tonight would be the night to switch things up.
Your father said he was going to gamble at a casino, the hotel you stayed in was infamous for its illegal businesses such as gambling. Your father said it could be fun to have you there with him, he liked to show off his intelligent and siren looking daughter and to distract the gamblers.
Your dress was long and red, the fabric was satin, so smooth on your skin, the dress had a slash on your left side, up to your thigh. Hair let loose, red nails and red lips.. you were the walking femme fatal that night.
You entered the room with your dad, a soft 20s music was playing at the casino, yellow lights and dark green chairs, couches made the place look vintage, there were bodyguards at each door.
As you walked together you saw him
He was among his ‘’friends’’ or people he did business with. He was covered in black, which made him look manly and dangerous. His silver watch was shining under the yellow lights, you noticed that he had no ring, could be single. He was laughing at one of their jokes when he lifted his gaze and he saw you entering. His expression changed in a second, the way he looked at you up and down didn’t go unnoticed. His left eye twitched and he looked away, from afar you could see there was something in his left eye, looked like a nasty scar. It made you curious about him, because the way he dressed and held himself showed you that he had men to do the dirty work but maybe, time to time he liked to get his hands dirty… why were you so interested in a man who seemed older than you all of a sudden? You were here to enjoy your holiday and do a trick with our dad. Ever since you hit the age 18 your dad started to take you to casinos when he wanted to gamble, and you came up with this thing where you flirt with other gamblers to distract them, it worked usually because of weak nature of men.
Your father guided you to the bar to get drinks, there was still 20 minutes till the game started so he ordered you something and you gracefully took your place to observe the environment. ‘’Excuse me love, I have to use the restroom.’’ Your father announced and left, you were enjoying your drink and listening to the soft tunes when you felt a presence next to you. You looked up to see your father but you were surprised. That man with the scar was sitting next to you, ‘’Hello.’’ He said looking at you, he wasn’t shy showing his scar, it was infact nasty but you didn’t shy away, you directly looked into his eyes, you innocently smiled, for some strange reason you liked the scar, it suited him perfectly. His plump lips formed into a dangerous smile, ‘’Allow me to accompany you while you wait for your partner.’’ His tone was questioning, he ordered two drinks, ‘’He is my father. Not so smooth are you Mister?’’ he chuckled at your boldness, he extended his hand, ‘’Le Chiffre. And you are?’’
You accepted his hand, he had a strong grip, ‘’Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.’’ he gave a small peck on your hand, predator disguised as a gentleman. ‘’I assume you are here to accompany your father?’’ you took a sip from your cocktail, ‘’Correct. I didn’t want to leave him alone, plus, I’m his lucky charm.’’
‘’Good girl.’’ His eyes never left yours, you wondered if he could see from his scarred eye, of course you didn’t ask. With his comment you could feel heat rising up to your cheeks, thankfully your father came.
‘’Le Chiffre?’’ your father asked in a not so kind matter, ‘’Mr. Y/L/N,’’ he greeted your father with the same icy cold courtesy. ‘’Long time no see.’’ Your father said, ‘’Looking forward to see you at the game with your,’’ he looked at you, ‘’lucky charm.’’ His hand went to his pocket to get his silver inhaler and bid you goodbye. You didn’t understand the tension that they had, maybe it was because of the competitive business life.
Soon the game started, your father’s instructions were simple, wait for Le Chiffre to make a bold move and distract him, it was an old game of yours.
You were like a hawk watching the table from afar, your fingertips circling around the cocktail glass, you saw that it was his turn to make a move and you bolted to your feet. Your heels were making powerful sounds on the marble floor and you saw him looking up as he was shaking the dice in his big palm, your eyes never left his dangerous ones, he wasn’t ready the dice unintentionally fell from his palm, you saw the pure anger written on his perfectly shaped face as you got on the elevator you could hear your father’s victorious laugh.
You didn’t join your father, who was celebrating the big cash he just won. You were in your hotel room, just out of the shower and moisturized. You couldn’t help but think of Le Chiffre, was that money important to him? Did your father and he had a history? You needed a spa night. Since it was late you didn’t mind leaving your hotel room only in a long robe and nothing else, the halls were quiet, no workers around which was strange. You didn’t mind, the spa was at the top floor so you pressed the button and waited, after few floors two men who were dressed in black joined. When you reached the top floor something felt fishy with the situation but you couldn’t turn back to your room now so you decided to stick with the plan. Your steps were quick on the marble floors, you finally saw someone who was attending the spa area and you informed them, they smiled and showed you to one of the cabins. You were alone, thankfully. You just sat and closed your eyes to relax, the steam helped you calm your mind, well, it was too calming and soon you were asleep.
You slowly started to feel your body again, your eyelids felt so heavy but a sudden panic made you open your eyes, you weren’t at the spa, you were at a bedroom.. that wasn’t yours.
As you lifted your body with the help of your shaky hands you heard a voice which was familiar, ‘’Slow down, you are still recovering.’’ Someone, a man, sat on the edge of the bed and you could feel his hand on your small back. You looked up to see him and it was Le Chiffre, but why was he here?
‘’Wh-‘’ your throat was dry, ‘’Here.’’ He offered you a glass of water, you were hesitant but thirst clenched your being so you drank with his help. ‘’Good girl.’’ He said when you drank the whole glass.
You were coming to your senses so you pushed yourself away from him, your back resting on the headboard of the bed, ‘’You might be wondering why you’re here-‘’
‘’Might?!’’ you replied. Cleary not amused, ‘’As you can remember your father won a significant amount of money, thanks to your help, I want that money back.’’
‘’So you kidnapped me?!’’ you could feel anger boiling, ‘’Smart one aren’t you. Until that money is returned you are my-‘’
‘’Hostage.’’ You sarcastically said, ‘’guest.’’ He answered, ‘’It had been 5 hours since you were taken You must be hungry. Come.’’ He extended his hand but you refused, as you quickly stood up you got dizzy so he grabbed your waist, his scent filled your nostrils. He smelled good.
You couldn’t protest because it was hard for you to walk so with his help you left the room. You weren’t at the hotel anymore, it was a mansion. Was this his house? You walked down the stairs, all you could see was an astonishing house with large paintings and furniture. He took you to the dining room where breakfast waiting for you both. Your stomach growled, he chuckled and helped you to your chair. ‘’Why can’t you just win the money back? There is another game tonight.’’ You asked, looking at the breakfast. You had to keep your calm in order to survive because you didn’t know what was he capable of. ‘’I don’t have for another game and I don’t like taking chances.’’
You laughed sarcastically, ‘’Says the man who was gambling last night.’’ You drank the orange juice, it was tasty. ‘’I was going to win. Until I got distracted by a certain beauty.’’ His comment made you blush so you didn’t look at him, ‘’Is it scary to look at me love?’’ he sounded hurt, ‘’I understand if it is the case.’’ You didn’t care about the scar so you looked straight at him, ‘’There we go.’’ He smiled, ‘’Now, finish your breakfast, I have plans for us.’’
You didn’t know his plan but you had to play along, you finished your breakfast as he commanded so, it was delicious anyways and you were almost sure there was no poison. He looked at your finished plate, you could see a small smile forming on his plump lips, they distracted you, ‘’Well done.’’ You noticed that he kept giving you praises, which was your weak spot but he didn’t know.. or did he?
He stood up, extended his big hand, ‘’Shall we?’’
You thought he was going to torture you, lock in his basement, feed you to his dogs but instead he took you on a stream in the mountains, he said he liked to come here, swim and make plans for his business, he said the water calms his nerves and keeps him connected to mother nature. Before you left his mansion a maid came to give you a bag with everything you need, a bathing suit, towels, sunglasses, sunscreen, you name it. Le Chiffre didn’t need changing, he just took off his shirt and jumped into the stream, you thought he wanted to give you privacy so you quickly changed into your bathing suit, it was red, a color he choose but you had no idea. Once you changed you placed one of the towels on the grass and sat, started to put sunscreen on your legs, arms, ‘’Need a hand?’’ you heard his serpent voice, tempting and you looked up to see him, on the edge, his broad arms supporting his body by leaning into the ground, ‘’Yes, thank you.’’ Two can play the games, you thought. The way he jumped up to the shore, his arms and legs flexing did something to your core. You had to exhale the breath you were holding, without a word he sat behind you, put some sunscreen in his palm and started to rub your back. You literally held onto grass under your hands, his calloused hands trying to be gentle but you could sense the certain urge to go deep, and rough.
‘’When I first saw you at the casino,’’ he began, ‘’I thought to myself, I must have this girl somehow.’’ He wasn’t shy at all, ‘’I guess Universe finally decided to give me a break and let me have one good thing.’’ It was obvious that his life was difficult, and seeing you as something good made you blush.
You turned to face him, his eyes were hoping for something, something tangible and you decided.
You leaned in to give him a kiss which he gladly took, his lips were so full and soft, his big hands went to caress your face, as the kiss got heated you followed his movements, he made you lay on your back, your legs invited him by opening. When he bit your neck you moaned, he pulled away, ‘’Did I hurt you?’’ he was out of breath, the genuine curiosity could be seen in his eyes and you almost cried. ‘’No, keep going.’’
He kissed you again, you could feel his hard member between your legs, there was no going back.
His hand went to dip into your wetness and he moaned into your mouth, he pulled away to give kisses to your face and neck, ‘’just how I imagined.’’ He said as he started to rub your clit, your arched your back, his sweet torture was driving you mad. ‘’Do you want this?’’ he looked to see any sort of discomfort on your face but all he found was flushed cheeks, lust written in your eyes, mouth slightly parted. ‘’Yes,’’ you said, ‘’please’’ he grinned.
His fingers pushed the fabric away, he quickly got rid of his short and gave himself few pumps, you couldn’t help but notice how big he was.
He rubbed his tip into your folds, making you whimper, ‘’pleasee’’ you said whining, ‘’Please what, lucky charm?’’ you couldn’t help but moan deeply, ‘’Please fuck me, ever since I saw you last night I wanted you to bend me over and fuck me raw.’’ Well, it wasn’t a lie, he had a strange aura to him.
Your confession startled him at first, Le Chiffre, even though he didn’t want to admit, he had insecurities thanks to the scar on his face, ladies usually went for his colleges, not him. Hearing you openly admit to want him turned him on, he was planning on to be gentle with you but after what you said, that wasn’t an option anymore, he had to have you and keep you all to himself.
Your legs wrapped around him and he inserted himself with one thrust, you screamed in pain at first because it had been a while, ‘’Look at me.’’ He was deep inside you, you could feel his pubic hair tickling your skin. You meet his eyes and he started to move, you knew after this session you would have sore thighs, but you didn’t want him to stop. He stretched you out perfectly, ‘’Open your mouth.’’ And you did, he spit in your mouth, bit your lower lip, gave you multiple hickies.
Your fingers locking in his hair, you’ve never heard a man moan like him before, it made you clench around him again and again. You wetness and the sounds you make was heaven for him, of course he had multiple partners before but they all seemed fake, artificial, on the other hand you were screaming, tears in the corner of your eyes, you looked perfect. He sucked on your clothed nipples, gave them slaps, you were close and each sucking and slapping made you see stars, you liked his roughness. ‘’Come on my cock princess, let me feel it, come on.’’ He knew you were close and his praises pushed you over the edge, he followed behind.
His head fell to the crook of your neck, both of you were breathing heavily, ‘’I can’t let you go, not after this.’’
#fanfiction#fanfic#reader insert#hannibal#hannibal lecter#hannibal x reader#hannibal x you#mads mikkelsen#reader#mads mikkelsen x reader#mads mikkelsen x you#mads mikkleson#james bond#le chiffre#casino royale#hannibal smut#mads mikkelsen imagine#smut fanfiction#fem reader#smut fanfic#mads mikkelsen smut
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I'm kinda curious, especially since a lot of people have very different views on this: How do you think Loki and Mobius would be in an actual, official, romantic relationship? I kinda think they would keep doing what they're doing but I don't really know what level of romantic stuff they would do. They're already pretty physically affectionate, but would they do that in public since both of 'em are pretty secretive about their normal emotion? They compliment each other but would they use things like honey and dear in a serious way? Etc. So...How do you think this time couple would be like?
I adore this ask because all my headcanons about Loki and Mobius being in an established relationship are SOFT. The best part is, canon supports this.
While I do agree that Loki and Mobius's dynamic will continue the way it has been, I also think a certain level of emotional intensity will be brought into the mix, increasing their general chemistry in front of others ten-fold. The banter, the idea spit-balling, the lack of personal space, the smiles, laughs, and long gazes ... imagine all of that dialed up. Loki loves as hard as he hates and is a hedonistic show off. Mobius has loved Loki since Day 1 and repressed his feelings for long enough. Are they really going to be reserved around each other once they're securely in a relationship?
No! They will be the most sickeningly lovey-dovey couple in the MCU.
WORDS OF AFFIRMATION
S1 had Mobius advocating for and complimenting Loki in private and in front of others. S2 had Loki reciprocating. It is not hard to imagine them becoming fiercely protective of one another on and off the field. Cross one, the other is crossed. They are a two-package deal, and both are vicious when it comes to wielding words on behalf of the other's dignity.
As for terms of endearment, I can imagine Loki calling Mobius "Darling" on spare, particularly emotional occasions. Mobius, on the other hand, still has Don in him. "Sweetheart" and "Honey" are very in-character pet names he would use. Both reserve usage of these names in private as Loki hates blushing in front of others, though Mobius has a tendency to slip when he's multitasking at work.
PHYSICAL TOUCH
The hug in S1E5 seems to have opened the door for physical affection come S2E1. Loki and Mobius (especially Mobius) touch one another with affection, attentiveness, and protectiveness on instinct. Despite not being romantically involved in S2, they move around one another the way two lovers in a small kitchen might. Once in a relationship, they will continue to do this but certain gestures will hold more meaning, in particular: holding hands.
One of Mobius's first gestures of kindness, which Loki initial rejected, was a handshake in S1E1.
The second time Mobius offers his hand, Loki takes it and uses Mobius's compassion as an opportunity to steal the time twister from his pocket.
Mobius offers another handshake in S1E5, which Loki declines in favor of a heartfelt embrace that he extends to Mobius and Mobius happily accepts.
Physically (and symbolically), Loki and Mobius's relationship was founded on Mobius extending a hand and Loki refusing it, betraying it, and finally taking it. I therefore see them holding hands regularly, every day, because holding onto one another is grounding, comforting, and reminds them of these earlier moments in their relationship that they've overcome together.
As these two are not shy about tight embraces in public, I doubt either would feel shy about chaste kisses either. They are so in-sync and adoring of another that it goes without saying that when they have sex, they make love passionately. They communicate with touching just as much as words, so heteronormative "bottom and top" designations are thrown out the window and into the dumpster (where they belong). How they have sex conveys how they feel about one another in that specific moment.
PDA
Among others, I can see them being nauseatingly sweet. We already know what bystanders look like when they tease and bicker with one another:
And make no mistake that Loki would up the dramatics with PDA just to gross Thor out. Thor making a "barfing gesture" cracks Loki up every time, and Mobius, resigned, goes along with it because who doesn't want to get peppered with kisses?
QUALITY TIME
I haven't seen anyone point this out yet, but it's hilarious to me that S2E3 starts in broad daylight and cuts to evening by the time Loki and Mobius stroll out with cracker jacks in their hands.
Loki looks a little annoyed but he is going along with it for Mobius's sake. Sightseeing at the World's Fair makes Mobius happy, and whatever makes Mobius happy, Loki will indulge even if he's not interested. Like that key lime pie he didn't eat.
If this is their relationship when it's platonic, then be ready for Mobius to take date night very seriously.
Dinner and a night at the opera? Naturally.
Eating pastries and drinking coffee while people-watching in Paris? Absolutely.
Biking side-by-side along the Dutch Coastal Route in the Netherlands? Of course!
Mobius will take care of all the planning and Loki will enjoy sharing new experiences together. On (frequent) occasion, Mobius will surprise Loki by choosing an activity he knows Loki will enjoy, such as visiting an ancient library or perusing fine clothes at a bazaar.
Point being, these two have always enjoyed each other's company and have fun together. In a relationship, they will actively take time out of their schedule to bond more purposefully!
ACTS OF SERVICE
Both Loki and Mobius are strong when it comes to communicating love through acts of service. Where Mobius is a little higher on words of affirmation, I believe Loki is slightly higher here. Loki pays attention to Mobius's interests, habits, and creature comforts. He will commit to memory the exact way Mobius prefers his steaks, sandwiches, salads, and coffee prepared.
Mobius, for his part, will take care of things Loki doesn't like doing. Taking out the garbage? Done. Washing the car and filling it with gas? Did it while you were asleep. Filling out paperwork? Say no more.
Sadly, I don't think either of them have a talent for cooking. Loki grew up with palace servants. Mobius relied on the TVA cafeteria. They will attempt to conquer the kitchen together, but the end result is always either a fire or a flood. It's okay. Loki can name Mobius's top 5 take-out places off the top of his head.
GIFTS
Neither Loki nor Mobius strike me as big on gifts, but when they feel the sentiment, they give one another meaningful things that only they understand.
I think Mobius may be slightly more inclined for gift-giving. He knows what material objects mean most to Loki and why. Loki, meanwhile, might feel challenged in this area. Not for a lack of enthusiasm, mind, but because Mobius doesn't have many material desires beyond a jet ski. Loki would like to think he's more creative than getting Mobius a new one once a year.
In short, Loki and Mobius already engage in the 5 love languages. Being together will only strengthen what they do for one another, much to their friends' longsuffering annoyance.
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hello, may I request jing yuan with a teen!reader who is jealous of yanqing? - they are around the same age as him, a new cloud knight who is an orphan, they try really hard to get the generals attention, even making him tea, buying presents etc. they want to be like yanqing, and are a bit jealous of the relationship with jy and yanqing, so they always try to prove themselves, even sacrificing food and sleep for their training, and are reckless during missions (bonus points if yanqing or jing yuan is present at the mission, they would literally fight until they pass out)
to prove oneself worthy
synopsis - all you ever wanted was somebody to pay attention to you and the one person that does so is already doing so to somebody else
includes - jing yuan ft yanqing - all platonic
warnings - gn!reader, orphan reader, slight angst, fluff, sacrificing food and sleep?, passing out?, jealousy, wc - 1.6k
taglist - @teddirika
you're parents weren't around. it was a simple fact, whether they had simply disappeared or died was unknown to you. all you ever knew was that you had no outstanding memories of them and that they certainly weren't atound anymore. this fact made it so you couldn't really care less for where they were or what had happened to them, they were rarely a thought that crossed your mind.
an orphan roaming around the streets of the luofu would bring attention, especially when you were resorting to any means necessary to survive and get by. petty thefts and minor acts of aggression were regular occurrences in your day to day live, cultivating a set of skills that aided in your fight for survival - including swift escapes from the cloud knights. an honest part of yourself really believed that you'd be a theif your entire life but a silver haired general thought otherwise.
jing yuan had become aware of the young one evading capture and committing very basic and mainly harmless crimes, how could he not? a part of him could sympathise with your situation, he understood that it was clearly your only mean of survival and so he didn't think that someone with their whole life ahead of them should be confined to the four walls of prison. your skills were impressive, there was a reason you hadn't been caught yet, so jing yuan thought that with the right guidance you would become a fine knight.
he would set out to find you himself, to personally extend his offer and hr wouldn't force you. if you declined then he had no choice but to arrest you himself and so he could only hope that you would see what he was trying to do and accept the offer. luckily for the both of you, you took up his offer. you understood that this would be the better way to pay for your crimes and would help you build a better future for yourself - earning back the trust of the luofu citizens you stole from.
what became pretty apparent very quickly was your unconscious growing attachment to the general. in between your training you would seek out jing yuan and if he wasn't busy you'd stick by his side. jing yuan was always incredibly busy and so you always tried to garner what spare attention he had left and demonstrate to him that his faith in you had not been misplaced - even going as far to bring him legally obtained presents.jing yuan was the only person to ever give you some kind of hope, somebody who believed you could be more than a street thief. it was evident that you would eant to thank him in some way, prove that his help would not go wasted.
jealousy was a vile emotion that made prople do horrendous things, it could break people apart and even force someone's hand to do something vile and unforgivable. you were no stranger to taking to underhanded tactics and resorting to frowned upon actions, so in any scenario you wouldn't have an issue with jealousy. this time it was different. you had been introduced to yanqing and saw him quite often, he was jing yuan's retainer afterall. there was something about him that just made you jealous.
you soon realised that it was his closeness to the general paired with his skills as a swordsman. yanqing had everything you could ever want. he had the generals attention, he had impeccable skills with a sword and he even was a capable knight without one and that made a vile anger boil inside you. but you wouldn't act on your jealousy. if you did you knew that jing yuan would be disappointed in you, he probably wouldn't want to ever look at you again and you would've proved to be a waste of his efforts. so you opted for a slow fix to your jealousy, working day in and day out to improve your skills to prove that you could be better than yanqing.
practically every minute of your day was spent with a sword in your hand, eventually coming to tell yourself that you weren't doing enough. you had managed to best every cloud knight more than once and decided that they simply weren't going to help you anymore, so you started sneaking away. in the dead of knight you'd head to mara-struck areas and defeat them - you didn't care that you lost out on your sleep. meals soon became irrelevant aswell, only ever stopping for a snack when you physically couldn't continue no more. you told yourself that it would all pay off in the end.
jing yuan noticed your absence pretty quickly, especially when even the other cloud knights would start claiming they hadn't seen you for days. a small part of him wondered if you were slipping back into your habits for stealing but he didn't want to think you would. he started piecing things together when he would see how fatigued you look and would try and question you when he was informed of how often your weary body would end up in lady bailu's care. he would ask bailu and she would tell him how your body would often not have enough nutrients to function properly and that your sleep was limited. jing yuan tried to confront you multiple times but you always weakly pushed him away and told him that you just wanted to train more.
he started sending yanqing on missions with you to keep an eye on you but you didn't take it that way, to you it was a dig in the face. to you jing yuan no longer saw you as a capable fighter and was trying to get you replaced on your missions. you wouldn't let that happen. unfortunately due to the lack of sleep and prioer nutrients in your body, your thoughts clouded over and so all your fights became clumsy attempts to wield a sword. reckless actions would be taken and eventually you'd pass out with too many unnecessary cuts, only slightly mitigated by the fact yanqing was there but you pushed him away from helping.
yanqing would soon find himself carrying your unconscious body back to luofu's infirmary's and lady bailu would have to be called in as the other healers simply couldn't fathom your injuries. jing yuan would also be contacted and would be there as soon as he could. each time you'd wake back up, wearily push everyone away and leave before any asked you anything. the next time anyone would see you would be in the same scenario - you passed out on a mission being dragged back to the infirmary.
jing yuan began to worry. each and every time you looked worse and worse but bailu always said the same things about exhaustion and lack of nutrients. jing yuan knew you were purposefully skipping meals and sleep in the name of training but he didn't understand why. he had a small inkling that it was to do with yanqing but he refused to believe you would resort to such extremes over something like this. eventually he had enough, when you woke up again from passing out on a mission he stopped you from leaving and told you dead straight that he was withdrawing you from your duties and that you were going to stay under care in the infirmary.
you were broken by the news. you had worked all day and night to get better at being a cloud knight, to beat yanqing and know all your hard work was to go waste because jing yuan didn't want you on duty anymore. you insisted that you were fine and didn't need this but it became very clear that jing yuan was not going to budge from his decision. however you simply wouldn't listen and would still sneak away from the infirmary to train out of bounds with the mara-struck.
the general had enough of your reckless behaviour. he understood that you were trying to improve as a knight but you're quest to do so had made you weaker and farther away from your personal goal. jing yuan personally pushed aside his duties to seek you out when the infirmary had told him you were missing and when he found you it wasn't a new sight. he watched with a saddened expression as you sloppily and recklessly took down the enemy, he winced when he saw your body hit the ground after you finished. you were out cold again, the general carried you back to the infirmary. this time he waited, waited until you regained conscious and made sure you wouldn't run away.
he confronted you as it pained him to see your talent go to waste and it hurt him to see how you treated yourself in the name of training. eventually he managed to weed the reasons for your behaviour out of you and due to your sheer exhaustion you couldn't help but start allowing tears to slowly escape and roll down your face. in this moment of weakness, jing yuan saw the child he found originally and offered a hug. one you gratefully took.
#—stellaronhvnters.#x reader#x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr x you#hsr x reader#hsr jing yuan#honkai star rail jing yuan#jing yuan x reader
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Blocked Contacts
Request: can you please do #15 with a protective hao? like he gets snarky with the ex and drops his funny one liners. thank yooou! :)
Prompt:
15) You and your bias run into your ex.
Pairing: Seventeen The8 x Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst
TW: Ex repeatedly contacting Y/N and showing up at their apartment.
.
Days off with Minghao were few and far between. With your opposing schedules and general life responsibilities, it was seldom you were both sharing your small apartment at the same time. When days free of responsibilities presented themselves, it was usually a gift.
Today, however, was not.
Cursing to yourself, you shut your laptop and pushed it away. You knew a disgusted expression was plain on your face as you looked up to Minghao who was casually eating his morning yogurt.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he said calmly, dragging his spoon along the bottom of the container.
"I don't know," you sighed, dropping your face into your palms.
He remained silent, the sound of metal hitting glass the only thing in the kitchen.
"If I do, I'm worried I'll get mad, and honestly, I don't want to waste that energy on him," you grumbled.
"Him?" Hao asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but you knew his curiosity had been piqued.
"My ex," you muttered, finally lifting your head. "THE ex."
"Ah," he hummed, looking back to his food. "What's he up to?"
"No idea, but he tried to message me."
"Sudden shortage of children to steal candy from?" he smirked. "Absolutely no puppies left to kick?"
"Hao," you chuckled, shaking your head. "He's not a cartoon villain."
"Forgive me, love," he sighed, leaning over to kiss you on the temple. Moving toward the sink, he dropped his spoon and spun back to face you. "But I've never met the man, so I have to go off of what you've told me."
"I hadn't realized I was giving such glowing reviews," you mused.
"Come here," Hao grinned, extending his arms, complete with grabby hands.
Narrowing your eyes at him, it took only a moment to give in. Shuffling over, you slid against his thin frame, and wrapped your arms around his waist. Nuzzling into his chest, you let out a content sigh as he rested his arms on your shoulders.
He kissed your scalp before setting his chin there. "Why are you so bothered?"
"Why aren't you?"
Hao had never been particularly jealous. He was confident in who he was, as well as your feelings for him. In his head, he had nothing to worry about, so why let an emotion as petty as jealousy creep in when he could keep it locked down?
That being said, he was human, and had gone off of his peaceful rails on occasion. This mostly happened when it came to your attention. If someone was actively trying to take away your time with him, he would have a problem with it. You were his. He had no patience for anyone who acted adversely to that.
"If I was bothered by every man who sought out to contact you, I would be incessantly grumpy," he hummed. You could hear the smile in his voice. "And at this point, I'd likely want nothing to do with any of my members and I'd be planning their demise right now."
"I kind of assumed you were planning one of their impending dooms at any given time," you teased.
"Now who's the cartoon villain?"
..
*DING*
*DING*
*DINGDING*
*DINGDINGDINGDING*
"Y/N," Minghao sighed, looking over his shoulder at you.
"Oh, so the noise is bothersome?" you laughed, dropping your phone on the coffee table. "I thought you had lost your hearing."
Pausing the program he was watching, Hao pivoted himself to face you instead of the television. "I know this is a novel idea, but have you heard of manner mode?"
"I know this is a novel idea, but have you heard of me not giving a shit?" you smirked. Pointing to your phone accusingly, you added. "Plus, I'm not the problem here."
"Well, you have my attention now," he accepted. "What's up?"
"I didn't respond to the message I got this morning," you reported. "So, homie apparently got ahold of my number somehow."
"Then block him."
"You, my love, are a genius," you beamed. "But don't you think I did that?"
Minghao rolled his eyes before scooting closer to you and picking up your phone. His face immediately warped with shock. "What is this?"
"All of the numbers he's created to contact me," you continued. "There's been at least ten at this point."
"Who does that?" he gasped, scrolling up and down. Clicking into a message, he began to read. "Why can't we just talk, Y/N? It's been so long. I've changed."
"Apparently not enough to realize I don't want to talk to him," you muttered, crossing your arms.
"Maybe it's time we start locking down you phone," Hao sighed, placing your phone back down as it continued to vibrate.
"Locking down my phone?" you asked, furrowing your brow.
Minghao pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "Yeah, it's common amongst idols. If someone isn't in your contacts, your phone simply will not allow them to call you."
"What about doctor's appointments?" you questioned, feeling increasingly nauseous about the new security suggestion. "Or if someone gets a new number? What am I supposed to do then? I don't have a manager to handle those types of things, Hao."
"I know," he groaned. "It was just a thought."
"Why should I have to change my life because he's an asshole?" you grumbled. "Isn't there anything we can do?"
"Short of what?" Hao chuckled, obviously frustrated. You hated that you were making this a problem for him too. Hated even more that you knew he wanted to protect you but didn't quite know how. "What do you want me to do? Hunt him down and beat some sense into his brainless head?"
"I mean, that wouldn't be entirely unappealing," you joked.
"Right," he deadpanned. "Your old boyfriend is a psychopath, and your new boyfriend is in jail for assault."
"You pretty much have a built-in gang," you grinned. "Surely at least Mingyu would be down to-"
"Y/N."
"Kidding!" you gasped, winding your body around his. "I just want him to go away."
Hao immediately melted into you, always the first to comfort when things were going sideways. "Want to order take out and forget outside communication exists?"
"That sounds lovely," you sighed. "I'll close my eyes and let you hide my phone."
"Perfect," he smiled. "No promises that I'll remember where I put it though."
"Even better."
...
You wiggled from side to side on the couch, contentment flooding through your bones. Minghao had wrapped you up in one of your softest blankets and put on one of your favorite reality shows before cuddling beside you. "I'm not sure why you watch this."
"And yet here you are," you hummed. "Brain rotting beside mine."
"I do it because I love you," he sighed. "But also, who is that? And why is the other girl yelling at him?"
"I can restart the episode, Hao," you laughed.
"No, no," he muttered, crossing his arms. He was quiet for a moment before he furrowed his brows. "Why would she do that?"
"Okay, I'm restarting-"
*Buzzzzzz* *Buzz Buzz*
"Is that the food?" you gasped, whipping your head toward your boyfriend. He grinned back before springing up.
"My food," he cackled. "Who said I was sharing?"
"Hao!" you gasped.
Giggling to himself, he began unlocking the handful of locks on the door before pulling it open. Swinging yourself around, you peeked over the back of the couch, eager to see what he had picked. Instead, you were surprised when he kept the door cracked and angled himself to hide whoever was on the other side.
"Well," you heard him say calmly. "This isn't my delivery."
"Who are you?"
If you hadn't continued breathing, you would have assumed your heart stopped. How had he found you? Better yet, how did he find the audacity to show up to where you lived with your new partner?
"I'm the person who lives here," Hao said slowly. "Do you have my chicken order or no?"
You knew that Hao was fully aware of what your ex-boyfriend looked like. He was simply toying with him at this point.
"Where's Y/N?"
You felt dizzy with anxiety. Why would he show up here? Sure, he was a supreme jerk when you had dated, but you never thought him capable of his behavior today.
"Who?" Hao asked, his voice all innocence. If you weren't hiding in the living room, fearing for your life, you would kiss him.
"I know they're here, man," your ex insisted. "Just let me see them."
"I have no idea who you're talking about," Hao said plainly. "They have a pretty name though."
If you were in better spirits, you would have giggled.
"Just-" you heard your ex begin to struggle as if he was attempting to move Hao out of the way, but your boyfriend stood firm.
"I would think before trying that again," Minghao said quietly, his tone venomous.
"I just..." your ex trailed helplessly. "I messed up. I want to make it right. I took time and realized that I really love Y/N."
"What's your name?" Hao asked, tilting his head.
"Jae," your ex said quietly.
"Funny," Minghao hmphed. "I haven't heard your name leave their lips. Not once. Plenty of other things though, my name included. Mostly in the dead of night, often loud enough for the neighbors to hear."
"So they're here?" Jae perked up.
You could hear Minghao sigh in defeat. Clearly, the bone head wasn't listening to him.
"They must have forgotten all about you," he said slowly. "Pity."
Backing away from the door, Hao slowly began to shut it. "I'll make one thing clear, so if you're going to clean the shit out of your ears and listen, now is the time. If you're not off my doorstep by the time my food delivery gets here, I will be calling the police.
And if you don't stop contacting Y/N, I'll make sure you'll have bigger problems than getting arrested."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I don't know what you mean," Hao said lightly, the door only open a few inches now.
"You just said-"
"You must have misheard," Hao sighed. "Anyways, tata, have a nice day."
Slamming the door and locking it immediately, Hao spun to look at you. "Baby?"
Having ducked back onto the couch, you tried to reclaim any semblance of calm. "Yeah?"
"You okay?"
Taking a deep breath, you popped up again and attempted a smile. "I think so?"
"I'm sorry," Hao said, immediately crossing the room toward you. Pulling your face toward his torso, he hugged your head while you were still sitting.
"What do you have to be sorry for?" you asked, looking up at him. He had done so much for you in the past day, let alone since you had been together. You didn't know if you could possibly love him any more than you did in this moment.
"That was the last thing I wanted you to have to experience," he sighed. You could tell the exchange had shaken him up more than he wanted to admit.
"Well," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "You were extremely hot."
"Was I?" he chirped, tilting his head.
"Being assertive suites you," you grinned.
"Unfortunate," he hummed. "Because I wasn't a fan."
"That's fine," you said happily, burying your face into his stomach. "I wouldn't have you any other way."
#xu minghao#xu myungho#the8#seventeen#svt#seventeen the8#svt the8#seventeen minghao#svt minghao#the8 fluff#the8 angst#the8 fanfic#the8 x reader#minghao fluff#minghao fanfic#minghao x reader#minghao angst#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen x reader#svt x reader
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One of the things that really gets me about Hardy and Miller's relationship in Broadchurch is how much the respect they have for each other shows in how they physically interact. Even when they're not particularly pleased with each other/the situation.
I mean, I think the fact that they don't sleep together even though there was plenty of incentive for the showwriters to add that in (the drama!!) says something already, but that's not what I'm talking about.
It's the little things. It's the fact that they barely touch at all even though Ellie seems to be pretty comfortable with physical contact -- whether it's meant to be affectionate or comforting or both. But Hardy isn't, and because Ellie's a pretty intuitive person she never attempts to touch him the way she would others.
And we see Hardy, in his turn, go out of his way to attempt to physically comfort her when he sees she needs support. The careful hand he puts on her shoulder when she finds out about Joe and the way he lingers a bit after that to see if she needs a shoulder to lean on.
Or the time he asks her if she wants a hug after the trial, because he knows she's the type of person to want a hug while going through something like that, but she declines because she knows he's not the type of person to go around offering hugs. That's the scene that really shows how much they've come to understand each other, I think: Hardy is willing to step outside his own comfort zone if he thinks it'll make her feel better -- he's willing to adapt for her because at this point they respect each other enough that things like this don't feel like an obstacle he can't overcome -- and she's unwilling to accept his offer, because it's not an olive branch or him warming up, but rather than that he's offering up a piece of his own comfort to make her feel better. And Ellie, who is generally too nice to allow people to do that, respects him too much to let him do so. Besides, I'm sure she'd just feel weird about it at this point.
Then at the end of season 2, when Hardy leaves and Ellie is there to say goodbye, it seems almost inevitable that they loop back to episode 1 and do hug this time. But instead Ellie extends a hand, and Hardy is almost surprised she doesn't hug him, maybe he's even a little disappointed (because that's what people do in these situations, right? Hug to say goodbye?). And in a sense we get an exact replay of the first episode, only now Ellie is offering Alec what she thinks he needs, whereas first he offered her what he thought she needed.
And maybe they were both a bit wrong, but only because they've come to respect each other's boundaries enough to make that careful miscalculation. And maybe they wouldn't have been wrong, maybe Ellie did want that hug and Alec did prefer the handshake, but only because the other was kind enough to offer exactly that to them, did they want the alternative -- to show their gratitude by shaping the situation to another's comfort, instead.
#look at me writing unnecessarily long meta posts for a show that ended 6 years ago#broadchurch#alec hardy#ellie miller#broadchurch meta#does this make sense? i honestly don't know lmao but it was in my drafts for 2 months so i might as well post it
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What One Piece Characters Are Like With A Reader With Walking Sticks...
Request: "So... I was thinking, how about headcanons of the straw hats with a S/O who has a disability with their feet and use walk sticks to move around freely but they can use their walk sticks as their weapons too! I would truly appreciate it if you could add Buggy the Clown and Dracule Mihawk in the headcanons too, thank you."
Pairings: Luffy x Reader, Zoro x Reader, Nami x Reader, Sanji x Reader, Usopp x Reader, Buggy x Reader, Dracule x Reader
Luffy:
- Luffy sees every characteristic about a person as an unending strength and advantage and your disability would be no different. Luffy wouldn't even have to see you fight before he begged you to join his crew, being able to see just how special you are in a way unkind people tend to overlook.
- The first time he sees you use your sticks as a weapon, that might be when Luffy really falls in love, cheering and screaming at the top of his lungs as you take down the enemies pursuing the pair of you and pulling you straight in for a kiss the minute you two are alone.
- Luffy treats you with the saming loving exuberance he does his whole crew, but somehow dialled up by a thousand since you have his whole heart. His beaming smile follows you everywhere you go, and he always feels safe and at home with you by his side.
Zoro:
- When Zoro first accepted the bounty for your capture, he had to admit he thought the price might be a little too generous. He followed you for the better part of a day, sure from the kindness you radiate that he could almost just ask you to come with him and you'd do it with a smile. And then he saw the way you easily fought off two other hunters who had come to take you in, watching the whole encounter with a smirk on his face as he realised no price would be enough for your capture.
- Instead, Zoro introduced himself to you that evening, coming clean about why he had come to find you, and hoping you would take mercy on him and let him buy you a drink anyway. Luckily he had been right about your kindness and you hooked the nearest bar stool with your crutch and dragged it close enough for the pair of you to sit knee to knee for the rest of the night.
- After a night of swapping stories and weapon handling tips, Zoro is infatuated, knowing he's found an equal partner and fellow free spirit he could explore the world with free of worries. You two are famed for taking on the most difficult bounties, never backing down from a fight, and rarely keeping your hands off each other.
Nami:
- Nami has spent so much of her life being wildly underestimated that she recognises a dark horse when she sees one. She's trying to pull a grift in a bar inside a military base, but can't get a word in edgeways with every cadet tripping over themselves to help you; fetching you drinks, offering out their arm every time you want to change seat, trying to one up each others brave stories as you applaud their efforts. Only Nami sees your true capabilities as you take keys from their pockets as they settle beside you, or make an obvious mental note of their name to use later. As the night descends into star speckled darkness she follows you back to your boat, determined to find out your plan and not paying enough attention as she rounds a corner and trips straight over your outstretched walking stick.
- Laid out on her back as you smile down proudly at her, she can feel her stomach do a flip. She never wanted a partner in crime before tonight, but when you extend out your hand she can feel herself drawn to you and the possibilities the two of you could get into together.
- She happily accepts the hand you offer and in return gives you her unwavering loyalty, the two of you becoming the unexpected family you had both always been seeking.
Sanji:
- Bless poor pathetic Sanji, he truly does not know how to handle himself around you. His heart is so immediately head over heels that he wants to treat you like the undeniably precious gem that you are, even when you can look after yourself far better than he's ever looked after himself.
- Deep down he knows you can handle yourself, and that he never has to worry, but dear god does he love you so much that he's going to worry anyway. He's going to offer you a piggyback whenever you have to walk more than a few steps. He's going to sprint ahead of you and pull out a chair even though he's more likely to fall over than you are. And you better believe he's going to constantly fear that you're not eating enough and he needs to feed you right now.
- Sanji is truly captivated by everything you do, and when he sees you fight, that man just drops to his knees in worship of your strength and skill. Honestly Sanji would fall to his knees and beg for your affections and company any time you asked, so completely devoted to you and your happiness, even if he's not always showing it in the most helpful way.
Usopp:
- Usopp can hardly believe how cool you are when he sees you fighting off fellow pirates with your walking sticks. Before the battle is even over he's narrating your incredible skills and the badass way you defend yourself when your enemies underestimate you. By the time all your foes are on the ground he is bounding over to you with a beaming smile on his face and his hand stretched out to shake yours.
- Usopp has always struggled to be brave, but somehow being around you finally brings out the best in him. He finds himself more willing to lead the pack, to step up and be his own captain, wanting more than anything to make you feel proud of him.
- Usopp will never not think you're too cool for him, but he's so grateful and excited the first time you kiss him that he practically sprints off to tell Luffy the good news, leaving you stood blushing as he shouts with joy that he feels like the luckiest guy in the world.
Buggy:
- Buggy knows how much strength it takes for someone to turn a disability into a personal advantage so you know he really truly appreciates you for exactly who you are. He likes to keep you very close, not for some outdated feeling of protection, but because he genuinely values your insights on all the decisions he faces as a captain.
- Buggy isn't afraid to put his hands on you, lifting you onto his pirate throne or pulling you suddenly into his private captain's quarters to steal a moment of your time. He's impatient when it comes to spending time with you, a hollow feeling creeping up inside of him whenever you have to be seperated.
- If you're ever feeling tired or worn out, Buggy will happily leave an arm wrapped around your waist to guide you with his intense strength, grateful for his strange gift if it means he can support you wherever you are.
Dracule:
- It's not often anyone manages to land a hit on the world's greatest swordsman, but that's exactly what you do when he inadvertently sneaks up behind you in a winding village street. Instincts taking over you catch him off guard and sweep his leg with your stick, sending him tumbling to the ground with an absolutely awestruck look on his face. Naturally you apologise as you realise he wasn't actually sneaking up on you, but by then the damage is done and Dracule is head over heels physically and emotionally.
- He insists on apologising himself but only so he can offer to make it up to you by buying you dinner tonight, immediately overwhelmed with feelings for you and desperate not to be parted from you so soon.
- He's so easy to talk to, a life spent roaming alone rarely letting Mihawk connect with anyone like this, and when the night draws to a close he's sure he'd die happy if he never spent one more night away from you.
#writing#fanfiction#requests#one shot#one piece nami#one piece zoro#one piece luffy#one piece#one piece live action#one piece sanji#one piece buggy#one piece dracule mihawk#luffy x reader#monkey d. luffy#zoro roronoa x reader#roronoa zoro headcanons#nami x reader#sanji imagines#sanji x reader#sanji fluff#usopp#one piece usopp#usopp x reader
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Talk to Strangers
Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader
━━━━
Word Count: 4,951
Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder
Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?
Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!
Ao3 Link
He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.
You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.
You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."
Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.
━━━━
You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.
But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.
It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.
"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.
"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.
He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"
"It makes you an asshole."
He finally faces you.
"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."
His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."
You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.
"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."
━━━━
And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.
You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.
"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.
As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.
You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.
"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."
He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."
You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.
━━━━
But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.
It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."
"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."
Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.
'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'
Holy shit.
━━━━
Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.
It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.
"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."
He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."
He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."
━━━━
The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.
'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'
"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.
You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."
It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.
"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.
"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"
You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.
━━━━
Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.
"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."
"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"
The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.
Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.
You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.
"When you're ready."
━━━━
You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.
He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.
"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."
You slam the laptop shut.
Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.
Paralyzed.
It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.
Shh. Shh. Just breathe.
But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.
You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.
━━━━
Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.
But you know it's him.
It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.
He thinks he's smarter than you.
You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.
You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.
You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.
━━━━
The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.
So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.
You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."
He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.
"I think you should go home and get some rest."
And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.
━━━━
So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.
He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.
He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.
"Edward."
It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
He is terrifying.
"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."
Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"
He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."
You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.
His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.
But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.
You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.
The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.
"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."
It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.
"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."
You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.
He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.
You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.
He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.
"Does this not make you happy?"
Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.
"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."
You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.
You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"
His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."
That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.
"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."
"Okay."
"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."
His hand grips yours as he looks at you.
"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."
━━━━
You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.
But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.
When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.
"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."
"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."
"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."
“I would never have expected it to be him.”
"I hope he gets the help he needs."
#edward nashton#dano!riddler#dano riddler#paul dano riddler#edward nashton x reader#edward nashton x you#dano!riddler x reader#paul dano#danonation#the batman#edward nashton smut#edward nashton fluff#edward nashton ily forever -abram#gonna log off for the night to keep my nerves down i think
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Trust Me!
I’m here to elaborate on my touch starved Knives with a reader who has “physical touch” as their love language. It’s been a while since I wrote anything in English so I’m sorry in advance if I’m rusty...
I’m hope you’ll enjoy these headcanons!
Content warning: gender neutral reader, maybe OOC, physical affection, skin-to-skin contact, fluff in general.
Song I listened to while writing: Trust Me! by DREAMCATCHER.
Knives does not like being touched. Or more precisely, he never lets anyone touch him. You, on the other hand, touching is how you prove someone you care about them, reassuring them with your presence and gentle touches.
The first time where, out of habit, you reached out toward Knives to place your hand against his back, you did not have to time to come closer enough that he stopped you. “Don’t.” A simple word which sounded like a warning.
As frustrating as it was, not matter how much you wanted to pat his back, no matter how much you wanted to give him a hug, no matter how much you just wanted to even bump your shoulder against his, you did not. You were patient and accepted his boundaries.
Well, until one day, where you found Knives fuming, alone in a room. It was not the first time you ran across him, isolating himself as he mumbled things about his brother, humans, “that woman”... And with intimidating aura around him, nobody dared to come near, scared to lose a limb or worse.
But this very day, you decided to move. You called out his name in a gentle voice. And before he had the time to reject you, you extended your hand and tenderly patted his head, promising that everything would be okay.
And at this very moment, time stopped from Knives. His eyes were focused on you and only you. He felt the tension leave his body. He never realized how much he needed the comforting pat (not that he would ever admit it anyway).
From this moment on, Knives has never rejected your touch ever again. He accepts every touch you offer, and inconsciously leans into it.
Placing your hand against his back when you leaned over to grab something? Yes. Casual bumps on his shoulder? He accepts them. You playing with his hands and fingers when you’re talking with him? Please, do. Giving him goodnight cheek kisses when you head to bed? He melts on the spot. A goodbye hug each time you have to go working? He does not want you to stop.
Knives got used to your physical affection faster that he thought he would, quickly becoming addicted to it. He even complained that one time you were sicked and you were the one refusing to touch him to not give him your germs. “I can’t get sick. Come.”
With time, Knives would start to initiate the touches himself. Except that his ones were more daring, as I can picture him liking skin-to-skin contact (in a not sexual way).
Sometimes, when you go to bed, Knives follows you to lay down and has some rest, even if he does not need it as much as you. He slips his hand under the top of your pajamas to place it against your belly, gently stroking the skin there.
When he feels more comfortable with the idea, his hand moves up to rest on your chest, just above your heart. He just likes to feel your heart beating under his hand. And with your permission, he would lay his head against your chest to listen to your beating heart (with or without your top on, but this man has his preference for without because, once again, skin-to-skin contact). And if you were to gently play with his hair, caressing his scalp with your fingers at the same time, he would just melt in your hands.
(Also, if someone dares to come and bother you two during these kind of moments, Knives would destroy them on the spot, no question asked).
All in all, Knives would never admit how much he fell in love with your gentle touches, nor how much he actually craves your physical affection and seeks it when you’re not here to offer him any... But it’s obvious he loves it. After all, you’re the only one who can touch him.
#trigun#trigun stampede#trigun maximum#millions knives#millions knives x reader#gender neutral reader#knives x reader#trigun x reader#trigun stampede x reader#trigun maximum x reader#nai x reader#it can be read with any Knives in head really#because I think that all Knives are touch starved#this is really self indulgent because my love language is physical touch#and I think that Knives deserves comforting touches#I would kill this man with physical affection watch me#jin writes#and yes I had to put DREAMCATCHER in here so enjoy a gentle ballad from them#and I just remembered one of friends follows this blog so IF YOU SEE THIS DON'T JUDGE ME
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Bruno Bucciarati's Type Headcanon
Bruno is someone with a deep-seated desire for a loving relationship and perhaps, a family of his own. As the years go by, his desire increasingly starts to surface.
However, the path he walks is fraught with danger and uncertainty. Serving as Giorno’s right-hand man in Passione, his life is intertwined with the complex world of Italy’s strongest mafias.
As Team Bucciarati works tirelessly to clean up Passione and protect their territory from rival factions attempting to seize power, Bruno finds himself constantly away on perilous missions, often with little respite between them. His absence can range from days to weeks, and sometimes even longer.
The weight of his responsibilities and the knowledge that his life is constantly on the line weigh heavily on Bruno's heart. He is aware of the dangers he faces, and it pains him to imagine someone he cares about worrying and waiting for his return, only for that day to never come. He has seen too many comrades who had family fall, and it's a fear that haunts him.
He believes that suppressing this desire is the responsible thing to do.
Bruno not dating means several less things to worried about.
What if someone kidnaps his s/o and uses them as leverage?
What if he promised a night out, but he could not make it?
What if a rival member decides to kill his s/o?
Because of these factors, luck would truly have to be on s/o’s side, especially if they are a civilian.
As a generality, Bruno’s type would be someone who is kind, gets his weird sense of humor, and exudes a calming presence that makes spending time together effortless. Whether he and his s/o are fishing, listening to Miles Davis, or simply relaxing, being near his s/o soothes him.
On the other hand, while I do think Bruno values calm and stability in a partner more, I can also see Bruno liking someone slightly chaotic. Someone who he enjoys sharing a laugh with. Someone who does stupid things to get him to laugh. However, he's not looking for an extremely chaotic personality, as his demanding work already saps his energy and exposes him to such individuals regularly.
Additionally, this person must accept his line of work.
If his s/o is not part of the mafia, he won’t disclose his involvement unless they begin to suspect, or the relationship is about to go to the next level.
Bruno would want them to see him as a person first before they make a decision. Afterall, he is in Passione to eradicate drugs amongst the youths.
Bruno is most likely to enter a romantic relationship with a fellow member of Passione. His future s/o would need to have some experience within the organization, preferably working alongside Bruno on numerous missions where they shared the same living quarters.
There are two reasons why Bruno would date a fellow Passione member:
1.) Bruno will be less apprehensive about dating knowing they are perfectly capable of defending themselves.
2.) They understand the mafioso lifestyle. Though the disappointment will still be present, they won’t be resentful or surprised when he’s away for extended periods of time. This shared perspective significantly reduces potential strains and misunderstandings. Moreover, Bruno can have open discussions with his significant about Passione's members and issues, providing a valuable source of insight and support.
If his s/o is a civilian, they must be the one of the luckiest people ever.
For this civilian to catch Bruno’s attention, they’d have to do something truly “significant” in his eyes. It will most likely be an act of kindness.
Helping an elderly lady with groceries.
Buying a kid who didn’t have money an ice cream.
S/o trying to skim board in a fountain, only to fall face first into the water, attempting to avoid crashing into a kid.
I also have a one-shot where civilian s/o exchanges a bag of apples that Bruno was gifted for a bag of oranges. She was watering plants on her balcony when she overheard the conversation about him not being fond of apples. She runs down and exchanges the bags with him.
After witnessing an act of kindness, there is a low chance that Bruno may strike up a conversation with you. If you are close by him after the incident occurred, he may comment about it out loud.
As time passes, If Bruno sees s/o consistently after the initial incident, he will begin to think about them more frequently, noting just how often they keep crossing paths. If he’s in a crowd, he finds himself doing a quick glance to see if you are there.
After a series of encounters – four or five to be exact–, with each one seemingly involving him or his future s/o running into one another, he becomes drawn to them. He eventually initiates a conversation, sharing a chuckle at the uncanny frequency of their meetings. With each interaction, Bruno finds himself falling deeper in love, and s/o becomes a constant presence in his thoughts.
He starts to believe fate is trying to bring you two together. Unexpectedly, after some pep talk from Mista of all people, he finally goes and asks them out for dinner.
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💊┆ ╰┈➤ 𝜗𝜚 ┈ I should have know to not trust VALENTINO ｡—
💊┆ ╰┈➤ ┈ warning: val, angst, abuse, non-con, no happy ending, gender neutral reader. ｡—
𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐎,,
• your life was shit, you can’t even make you own fucking decision because of a certain overlords.
•Sometimes you wondered why did you accept to signed the contract.
• when you arrived hell, someone extended his hands to you, you thought he’ll help you with this chaos in hell, but he didn’t. He just ruined you even more.
• Valentino, the overlord who extended his hands to you, make your mental even worse than before, after you agreed signed the paper.
• Val let all his anger, stresses at you by fucking you dumb, he didn’t cared with you aren’t okay with it he just do it.
• you were always next to him, by his side. He didn’t want to let you go, he was obsessed with you and your body. All your begging was ignored, what could you said ? He owned you after all.
• The day when he founded out Angel dust was with Lucifer’s daughter was the worst day for you. He literally screamed out his anger at you and almost shot you but at the end of the day he apologized.
• you hated being by his side
• you were here before Angel Dust, you tried to make him don’t sign the paper, but he didn’t saw the signals.
• Angel dust was only owned in the studio and you, he just owned your soul and you aren’t free anymore.
Dog in a leash, that’s what you were. You never asked to be a fucktoy to Valentino. You just wanted a goddamn job, thinking it’ll be great, maybe not as bad as your life. But you were all wrong, after signing that paper.
One day, Valentino founded out Angel Dust with the ‘bimbo’ daughter of Lucifer. He was enraged, he wanted to throw his anger at someone, this someone was you. Since you were next to you, he slapped you across the face making your eyes widened, wondering what did you do wrong this time. "Valentino- what did" you were cut off by his hands gripping your wrist and throw you away, hitting the walls. You’re definitely going to have a bruise. "This fucking Angel Dust ?!" He exclaimed himself, letting his anger on you. "How dare him to be with that bimbo !" he yelled at you, until Vox appeared in the room.
• you knew nobody is going to help you from this, but at least you tried to help Angel Dust to not sign the contract. You’re also the one who helped Anthony getting away from Val
A/N : Women and Girls Experience Sexual Violence at High Rates . Hi, I just wanted to say that rape isn’t some kind of joke. 1 out of every 6 women american women has been victims of attempted rape or rape completely. 82% of all juvenile are women 90% of adult rape victims are female. Females ages 16-19 are 4 times more likely than the general population to be victims of rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault.
Men and Boys Are Also Affected by Sexual Violence. 2.78 million men in the U.S. had been victims of attempted or completed rape. About 3% of American men or 1 in 33 have experienced an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime. 1 out of every 10 rape victims are male. This is only in US, but if you have to say people in the word, it’ll be worst.
Abuse : Over 1 in 3 women (35.6%) and 1 in 4 men (28.5%) in the US have experienced rape, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner in their lifetime.
If you have been abused,raped, talk to the person you’re more close, comfortable to talk with or just confess in my dm 🫶
#hazbin hotel season 1#hazbin hotel x male reader#hazbin#hazbin hotel#hotel#x male reader#valentino#val#hazbin valentino#the vees#hazbin hotel vees#gender neutral reader#gn reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x gn reader#angst#angst no comfort#angst no happy ending#heavy angst#tw abuse#tw angst
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i don’t dance!
pair. pro-player!ushijima x PR manager!reader
content: fluff, reader is his VERY TIRED PR manager who really deserves a raise, weak attempts at humour, no pronouns used for reader
synopsis. you need to teach ushijima how to waltz
wc: 2.2k
a/n: i eat the “teach me how to dance” trope up for breakfast, lunch and dinner. (also yes i absolutely did use a high school musical song as the title who’s gonna stop me)
ushijima wakatoshi is what people typically refer to as emotionally unavailable.
he just doesn’t have the time to worry about trivial things like romance or feelings or anything of the sort. not while he’s trying to keep up with his rigorous training schedule on top of countless interviews and photo shoots that you, his wonderful PR manager, generously offer to help him prepare for.
it’s no surprise that this man - 6 feet and almost 4 inches of pure heart throb material - has yet to find a partner worth keeping around. not that he hadn’t had one night stands, per say, but being emotionally available for a committed relationship isn’t something he has on his mind right now.
although he isn’t exactly the type to be nitpicky about this kind of stuff, he does come off as cold if you don’t know him well enough (unintentionally, of course). people who he welcomes into his life simply find him too busy or too severe in his mannerisms to form proper relationships. thus, his friend group is kept tight, extending almost exclusively to members of the japanese national team.
ushijima keeps to himself and minds his own business. he doesn’t speak until spoken to, unless he has some opinion about other volleyball players you have to thwart. he doesn’t make a fuss about insignificant things. he respects his elders and works hard in every aspect of his life that involves his career. words are kept short and to the point, never sugar coated and he certainly never lies.
he specifically remembers one scenario in which an adoring fan had come up to him after a game while you were distracted with the press, and they had confessed their undying love to him much to his horror.
“could you leave me alone?” he had told them bluntly when they asked if he could please dm them on twitter, and you nearly died on the spot when the cameras all turned to the pair behind you. it was a horribly busy week for you, playing the role of damage control all while ushijima remained completely indifferent to the storm that was brewing on social media around his name and how he was trending for two whole days after the fact.
thankfully, the fan had gratefully accepted a bouquet of flowers ‘courtesy of ushijima’ (which he also almost vehemently denied online before you smacked him upside the head), and all was forgiven. it even made him trend for a couple days longer, but this time with everyone singing his praises. he should give you more credit where it’s due, because being a PR manager for someone so terrible at smiling for the camera is like hell on earth.
you had told him once that it was important to keep a good rapport with his fans, even if they were more forward with their advances than he was used to back in high school. he looked at you funny until you continued: “i’m not saying you should go off and date anyone who confesses to you, but could you at least be a little nicer?!” sounding extremely exasperated.
he didn’t even end up agreeing with you, too distracted by the way your lips moved while you scolded him to pay you his full attention.
“tonight’s the gala. everyone will be there.”
“i know.”
“so why,” you hiss out the words through grit teeth, jaw tense as you pinch the bridge of your nose, “are you standing outside my house when you should be getting ready?”
he’s silent for a moment. you glance up to make sure he’s actually still standing there being stupidly handsome and that you’re not just dreaming he is. ushijima averts his gaze awkwardly, hands in his pockets as he contemplates whether or not he should say what’s on his mind and risk having you slam the door in his face in frustration.
(it’s happened before; once, when he told you he was the top reply on a post for asking what “smash” means and why everyone was commenting it under all his instagram photos. you slammed the door in his face then, too, but he could still hear you erupt into laughter from the other side much to his confusion.)
you’re looking at him expectantly, with a brow raised and your lips pursed as you wait for an explanation.
“it’s a gala.”
you close your eyes and take a deep breath, patience wearing thin. “i know, wakatoshi. i just said that.”
“it’s a gala, so...” he huffs, “i have to dance, don’t i?”
you look up again at his words, confusion written all over your face. you’re in the middle of getting ready yourself, dressed to the nines. not as his date, of course, though he’d asked you.
(“what did you just say?”
“why can’t you just come with me? it would save you the trouble of getting the extra ticket. it’s not like i’m taking anyone else.”
“i can’t- that’s-... it’s unprofessional.”
“oh. i see.”)
you take the opportunity to scrutinize his outfit, as your eyes always end up doing. you’re always observing him closely, hoping and praying he doesn’t do or say something that will get him cancelled. in his defense, he’s gotten better at keeping his mouth shut when he knows you’re sitting there stressed to all hell about what you’ll need to apologize for on his behalf that week.
not that he would ever admit it out loud, but he likes the attention a little bit. enjoys being fussed over, since he spends most of his time isolated save for the members of his team. and it’s not like you’re very secretive about your judgment of him. it’s your job, for one, but there’s an undeniable and genuine worry in your eyes every time he says something he shouldn’t. he thinks it’s fine that he indulges in your presence just a bit, especially since people have found him intimidating his whole life. it’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him once in a while.
you sigh quietly. “yes, you’ll have to dance. why?” you open the door wider for him, a gesture he’s familiar with equating to come in. “you’re not planning on bailing ‘cause of that, are you?”
he watches as you retreat further into your house, probably to fix your hair one last time before you head out early. you always arrive to these sorts of events earlier than he does, and always in a separate car. you were insistent that he arrive either alone or with his own date, since it would reduce the risk of scandals questioning your seemingly close relationship with each other.
close is not the word either you nor ushijima would use to describe your feelings toward one another. sure, you were the one helping to manage his schedule even though the job description did not at all entail that, and you’re the one keeping him in line with the media. he even has you over sometimes for dinner after an especially long day. but no, you’re not close. work acquaintances at best.
“no, i’m not bailing,” he tells you as he trails behind, following you to the mirror in the hallway - the one hung up above a high table littered with trinkets from past events and some photos of you and your friends and family. you look at him with a quizzical expression through the mirror.
“then?”
he stands rigidly behind you. the thought that it feels strangely domestic with you getting ready in front of him like this crosses his mind, and makes him grossly warm and fuzzy inside.
“i don’t know how to dance.”
you pause in your ministrations, hair that you meant to pin up falling back over your eyes as you stare at him with bewilderment. “you what?”
“i don’t know how to dance,��� he repeats, though you heard him perfectly fine the first time.
“you... don’t know how to... dance...” you sound out the sentence slowly, hoping that you possibly misheard him. to your horror, he only nods in confirmation.
in your one year, three months and twenty-two days of working with ushijima, how could it have never once dawned on you that this 6 foot monster of a volleyball player doesn’t know how to do something as elegant as a waltz?
it’d never been a problem before. most events don’t include anything of the sort, and all the events you do attend with ushijima are to give out awards or give esteemed recognition to MVPs. but for a christmas gala, there will definitely be booze and partying and absolutely dancing involved.
for a second, he thinks you’ll keel over and place your head into your hands on the table like you usually do in these situations, or that you’ll start muttering curse words to yourself, or maybe you’ll scold him some more for never learning. but much to his (pleasant) surprise, you just laugh. and laugh. and keep laughing, until there are tears in your eyes. his poor heart can’t take it.
“what?” he asks, almost sounding offended. but his expression is still stone cold as you look back up at him, turning to face him this time. his breath hitches when the action causes a whiff of your expensive body spray to waft in his direction.
“i just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” you muse. he knows what you really mean is that you’re surprised he isn’t here causing trouble for you before this event like he always does, complaining like a child that he doesn’t see the point of attending. “why didn’t you just say so? it’s easy. i’ll show you.”
he stares at you momentarily while you stand there, hand outstretched as an offer to take it. he half expects you to yank it back and laugh in his face, more cruelly this time, but you just smile at him with the slightest tilt of your head. you sound so genuine that any hesitation left in his body melts away, and he awkwardly accepts your hand and waits for your guidance.
he’s stiff as a board as you pull his hands where they need to go, one resting on your hip and the other hanging in the air for you to take. “i’ll teach you how to lead first, okay?” he can only nod in response. you step forward once with your left, urging him to step back with your timing. then you’re shuffling over, gliding along the floor with ushijima trying his damndest to follow along, and then your feet meet again in a different spot.
he grunts quietly in concentration, watching your movements carefully and clumsily trying to catch up. it’s a simple enough motion, but he’s too big and it feels clunky to do this for the first time. you seem deeply amused by his confusion, and he glares at you quickly before his eyes are back on the floor.
“now you try. we can go slow,” your voice is soft. encouraging. so unlike your usual stern demeanor with him. “step forward.”
ushijima does so obediently, sliding his left forward to the best of his memory.
“good. now your right goes to the side and the left follows.”
he listens to you again, but his gait is much larger than you anticipated, and your back hits the table behind you with a gentle thud. he mutters something along the lines of an apology, but he seems too focused to realize the compromising position he’s put you in. you smile at him anyways, rotating around 90 degrees to give you more space to move.
“now again in the opposite direction.”
“this is too complicated.”
“this is the easiest motion...”
“i don’t like it.”
“you gonna keep complaining or are you going to dance with me?”
he stops in his tracks, boring into you with intensity in his eyes. you watch his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “...what’s wrong?”
ushijima just shakes his head, and then his feet are moving again as he tugs you along clumsily. “nothing. but maybe you should be my dance partner for the rest of tonight.” you raise a brow at him in question, even though you can feel the heat rising in your face and all the way to the tips of your ears. he clears his throat, looking away. “wouldn’t want any bad press about my terrible dancing,” he quickly adds.
this gets a laugh out of you. “as your PR manager, i don’t think that’s the kind of negative press i’m supposed to be getting you out of.”
“and as a friend?”
another laugh, a little breathless. “yeah, yeah. fine. as your friend i’ll make sure no one knows how awful you are at this.”
he blinks down at you, unsure if he’s ever seen you so relaxed before. you’re always so high-strung about work and keeping his name clear. there’s a softness gracing your face right now and he doesn’t know how to handle himself or his racing heart.
okay, yeah. maybe he can try and be a little nicer to his fans to see you like this more often.
EXTRA:
© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
#— whispers in the wind ✧#um yea idk what this is#but hope you enjoyed#haikyuu#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima wakatoshi x reader#ushijima wakatoshi x y/n#ushijima wakatoshi x you#haikyu x reader#haikyuu fluff
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𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲 - 𝐫𝐮́𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐬
・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬.
( 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 )
( 𝐎𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬! 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟?? 𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟?? 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 × 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞?? 𝐑𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 )
___
𝐚/𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞
[ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 ]
( had to use this gif )
Rúben Dias did not like to talk.
Everyone that knew him, knew that he was a man of few words; he liked to work in silence, the less he spoke to the clients that hire him, the easier it would be for him to get the job done and move on to the next one, the rules he had set were simple and seemed to work for him as most - if not all of his clients were aware of how efficient he was in ensuring their safety above all while maintaining a high level of professionalism.
The only times you'd see a glimpse of him, the real him. Is when he's around his family and friends and even then; he doesn't like to be vulnerable, he views vulnerability as a liability; preferring to be cold, distant and detached - it's easier for him and easier for those that approach him, yet he had no idea of the storm that was lying ahead, a storm of sunshine, softness and the kind of joy that he faintly remembers experiencing as a child.
The storm that is international pop star, Yeliana Ladrón.
Rúben's perception of pop stars, actresses or anyone from the entertainment industry was that they're loud, talkative and spoilt hence why he had wanted to refuse the task almost immediately until his co-worker and good friend, John Stones advised him not to.
" Why not? " Rúben questions, " She's probably a spoilt princess who will spend the entire day talking my ear off with stupid and trivial matters "
" I worked with her once " John explains, " and I can assure you mate, she's far from the other ones, a sweetheart, grounded and humble too " he laughs, " she literally goes out of her way to ensure everyone around her is comfortable, plus she pays generously so if you take it from me, don't say no "
Despite his hesitance, Rúben ends up accepting which lead him to this current moment, he was lead by Yeliana's assistant inside the mansion, " Miss Ladrón is currently busy, so if you'll follow me I can show you where you'll be staying "
Before Rúben could respond, a tanned and petite brunette appears from the kitchen; dressed in a baby blue summer dress which stopped just below her ankles, her hair was tied up into a ponytail and her face, whilst bare of makeup was rather unique, doe eyes that shone as she smiled brightly, her assistant smiles. " Ah, there she is. Yeli, this is Rúben Dias, he was sent by the agency "
" It's nice to meet you " Yeliana extends her hand, expecting him to shake only for him to acknowledge her with nod which made her brows furrow in confusion, " you don't like physical contact, got it? "
" I was on my way to show him his bed room " Her assistant states.
" It's fine Renata, you can go home! the house is secured so nothing should happen. I'll show Rúben around " Yeliana smiles.
" Ok then! it was nice meeting you Mister Dias, and I'll see you later Yeli "
Rúben watches the woman whom he now knows her name walk out of the house before he turns to Yeliana, " Where's the room? " He asks, in a curt tone.
Yeliana ignores his tone, still maintaining the same smile. " Follow me then "
Rúben quietly walks behind her to the ends of the house where the rooms were, " You'll be staying here " he hears her say as she unlocks the door to the neatly furnished bedroom, " there's an en-suite bathroom, everything you need is in there and if there's anything missing you can let me know "
" Are your fences high? " Rúben asks, ignoring the last phrase.
" Yes, and they're secured " Yeliana nods.
" Are there security cameras installed? " Rúben asks.
" Yes " Yeliana nods.
" Locks? "
" Yes "
Rúben was about to ask again, however Yeliana rolls her eyes. " My house is fully secure, don't worry! I didn't want to burden anyone but my father insisted " she mutters.
Rúben was silent, before curiosity got the best of him causing him to ask. " What happened exactly? I was only informed of a supposed threat "
Yeliana visibly stiffened, " Yes "
" What is the threat? " Rúben asks, " If you don't mind me asking "
" My ex boyfriend " Yeliana mutters before mustering up the same smile he had seen earlier. " Are you hungry? "
Rúben shakes his head, " I'll be down in a minute however "
" Please " Yeliana said, " I don't like eating alone "
Rúben grows silent before nodding, " Alright "
__
They sit down in the dining room, Rúben maintained a safe distance away from her; Yeliana took the moment to study him, he was broad, well built, with features that reminded her of all the social media videos she sees of models people use as images of fictional characters, and when he looks up from his plate, she looks away and hopes he didn't notice her. " So, how long have you been working in the agency "
" Nearly four years " Rúben answers in the same curt tone.
" Oh, so you must know John " Yeliana deduces.
" Yes, I do " Rúben mutters.
Yeliana chews on her bottom lip, " You don't like to talk much huh? "
" I find it easier this way, to not be attached and ensure that I do my work at the highest level, besides I'm not here to befriend you, I'm here to protect you " Rúben responds, " So, the less we converse, the better "
Yeliana nods before smiling, " I get it, but ... I'm not going to stop "
Rúben's brows furrowed, " Pardon? "
" Listen, it took me a lot to get through John and while I'm sure you think I'm some spoilt singer but I'm not, so I give you my word that once these weeks end, we will be friends " Yeliana said with a smile, she stands up and grabs the dishes to go and wash them.
Rúben watches her from where he was sitting, still confused by her words, he shakes his head before walking up to the kitchen to tell her, " I'm going to look around the house, just to be safe "
" Ok " Yeliana nods with a smile.
_________
The only thing Rúben can think of that could describe the following weeks was one singular word, a rollercoaster -- he noticed just how much Yeliana loved performing, and how beautiful she sounded doing so, he was an avid listener of music yet never bothered to take a minute and truly listen to music until he heard her sing, she seemed to sing from a place of pain and an unexplainable sense of dejection.
One night, he was in the kitchen to grab a glass of water when he heard her voice outside in the balcony, coupled with the strumming of the guitar was enough to lure him out of the kitchen which overlooked the balcony.
" You said it was true love, but wouldn't that be hard?
You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart
I tried you help you out, now I know that I can't
'Cause how you think's the kind of thing I'll never understand "
Rúben stood there, allowing the words to sink in - they were charged, quite heavily; and he didn't know what came over him, however he decided to speak. " You sound great "
Yeliana gasps then looks up before smiling, " Thank you, I guess it helps when you have a deplorable ex boyfriend "
Rúben tentatively sat down on the other chair, keeping the same distance he did since the first day. " What did he do? "
" He cheated " Yeliana responds with a sad smile, " I gave him four years of my life, on and off, ups and downs, and I kept my mouth shut while he stuck his cock in everything that moves " she laughs.
" Why would you stay with him? " Rúben asks, " He sounds like an idiot "
" Because I'm a hopeless romantic " Yeliana responds, " When I care about someone, platonically or not! I tend to give my all to that person "
Rúben nods, " Hm "
" Have you ever felt that? " Yeliana asks him.
Rúben raised a brow, before shaking his head. " Emotions are a liability for me, I was engaged once but she never waited for me and since then, I made a promise never to love anyone again "
Despite his curt nod, and standoffish nature. Yeliana could see that behind of all that was someone so hurt, that he believed being like this was the right call. " For what it's worth, she's an idiot too "
And for the first time, in a really long time; Rúben smiled, he truly smiled which made Yeliana smile then say, " You have a beautiful smile "
Rúben's smile instantly vanishes the minute he hears her, this wasn't what he intended on happening; he stands up, " Listen, you need to sleep cause you have an early day tomorrow ok "
Yeliana nods, " Ok " she follows him fifteen minutes later, and was about to head to bed when she said. " Hey Rúben "
" Yes " Rúben responds curtly.
" Goodnight " Yeliana said then closed the door behind her.
Rúben did not respond, he walks into the guest bedroom; placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to calm his heartbeat. This wasn't what he planned, these past few weeks were a rollercoaster, while he may have been able to keep a neutral face, he couldn't help but admire Yeliana, she was kind, welcoming and indeed true to John's words, humble as when he had searched her up, he came to know that she hailed from humble backgrounds which surprised him given that most singers are blinded by fame, yet she wasn't - and against his own set of rules.
He was beginning to feel drawn to her.
Yeliana couldn't believe it, while she was out of Manchester with Rúben and her team to perform in Paris, her ex boyfriend had tried to break and enter her home; however thankfully he was arrested -- and as she returned, she had cooperated with the police to ensure that he goes away for life over the horrors and pain he had caused her and with his arrest, came the conclusion of Ruben's task, he was set to leave today.
" I really appreciate you staying with me Rúben " Yeliana smiles.
" It's my job " Rúben nods.
Yeliana fiddles with her bracelet, which caught Rúben's attention and caused him to ask, " What is it? "
" Well, since you won't be working to protect me anymore " Yeliana begins with a shaky voice, " And to be fair, I really liked spending time with you even though you hated my chats "
Rúben chuckles, " I did "
" And you disliked how I would hum while I'm making breakfast " Yeliana adds.
" I value silence " Rúben retorts.
" You were basically a grumpy person " Yeliana laughs, " I still think that we can be friends, right? "
Rúben looks away, unsure if he should tell her or not, she was this worldly angelic human being with so much popularity and love, and he was just ... a bodyguard, " I ... " he begins but falls silent again.
" What? " Yeliana tilts her head, with a confused expression.
" Yeliana " Rúben whispers, " These past few weeks have been enlightening and I loved every single moment, which is odd seeing as that I've always hailed myself as being able to keep my emotions buried and yet ... "
" Yet? " Yeliana prompts him to continue.
" Yet I've grown attached to you " Rúben murmurs, " While I initially hated everything you did and how you're always happy, I realized why you did it, and I .. " he licks his lips, " I know that there won't be any chance for us but, I - "
" You .. " Yeliana mutters, subconsciously leaning closer.
" I really like you Yeliana, like really like you " Rúben said.
Yeliana's eyes widened, cheeks turning pink. " You do? " she whispers.
" Yeah " Rúben nods, grabbing her hands. " I just, I want to know if you feel the same way "
Yeliana smiles, her tears brimming at the ends of her eyes; she stands on the tip of her toes to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. " I feel the same way " she giggles.
A big smile spreads across his lips and Rúben pulls Yeliana into an embrace, " You're my sweet melody " he whispers.
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That ask of dream having to work the summer at one of his family's resorts and being perved on by hob is so delicious to me. But consider: hob is very rich and powerful, yes. But nowhere NEAR the level of the Endless family and would probably never have even talked to the cute shy waiter who had no idea what he was doing if he knew who dream was. Dream knows this. He really considers telling his supervisor about hob bc it would be taken care of by dinner but he kinda likes the attention... hes always thought people only talked to him bc his family name but here hob is catcalling him across the pool and laughing at him when it makes dream spill his tray of drinks. Hob has no idea how this kid got THIS particular job but hes very glad he decided on extending his stay and might do so again:) hob is constantly demanding dream as his server and tucks his more than generous tips in the band of dreams tiny shorts before sending him off again with a slap to his ass. Hob is mostly playing chicken when he tells dream change into his swimsuit and let hob teach him to swim but dream AGREES and returns in the rarely chosen uniform one piece suit and hob can finally see his little tits cupped by something tighter than the sadly shapeless uniform polo. Hob "accidentally" sends it off to laundry forcing him to remain shivering in his swimsuit and dream knows thats a lie but hob calls him pretty and offers him a drink in apology. Then another, because dream deserves it for working so hard. He cant say no when hob tells him hes going to a yacht party that evening as hobs guest instead of an employee. The last minute addition means theres not enough chairs at dinner but hob waves his protests away and pulls dream onto his lap, keeping him quiet with a glass of wine to his lips and his other hand up dreams dress. Dream is wasted as he walks back to his room with his shoes in hand, he figured he should leave when hob got pulled into conversation when they got back. Hes frustrated because hob never made him come but theres another waiter dreams age whos hes sure has been giving him looks behind those shades and maybe Corinthian is capable of pleasuring him unlike hob :/ hob is pissed his arm candy left before he could get dream to beg for relief writhing on silk sheets but he does get to break rodrick burgess' nose for touching whats HIS and if his pretty boy thinks this was for moral reasons? Hey, hob is eager to accept dreams gratitude and dream rethinks his opinions about hobs sexual prowess when hes got dream moaning on his dick til sunrise.
-🔪
I'm sooooo thirsty about this au. I just love the idea of Hob teasing Dream until he's a little riled up mess, bless him. All those touches with those big warm hands have him aching, and maybe he shouldn't want it... but oh, he does. Its the fact that he could stop it at any time, that he technically has the power in the situation... but Hob doesn't know that. So Dream can really lose himself in his helpless slutty waiter fantasy.
When Hob finds Dream after the yacht party, they even have a little "fight" - Dream says that he's sick of Hob being gross, he's going to call Cori to take him to bed and report Hob for harassment tomorrow! And Hob is holding the hand that he used to punch Burgess and he's like "oh :((( OK I guess. You should know that Roderick won't bother you again by the way, I knocked him out." And Dream is like "oh? you defended my honour?"
And they fall into bed immediately. Hob tears Dream’s dress down the side seams and eats him out until he's thrashing and crying, the bedside lamp is on the floor, the sheets are soaked because Dream squirted everywhere. When he finally gets fucked he's just gushing, coming all over Hob’s dick as soon as its inside him, moaning until he's hoarse as Hob lifts him up and down with one hand. He's never had sex like this. Every slap on the arse, every lewd comment, its all worth it. Hob is some kind of sex-god disguised as a rich asshole.
They sleep in late next morning and Hob is like "won't you be in trouble for skipping work?" Dream just smiles and straddles Hob’s thighs for another go... And that's how Hob finds out that he's been perving on the prized third son of the Endless family...
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I know that Ellie eventually going to school is a pretty much universally accepted part of the world building, but I am itching to explore her trying to do so and simply being unable to do it.
The child abuse she went through at the hands of FEDRA was probably prolific and cruel, and her life was basically nothing but different kinds of "education" strung together, whether that's whatever they cobbled together for general education or the military training. Joel might know it was bad (cause it's fucking FEDRA), but the extend of her trauma is hard to gauge when you are not in a situation that triggers it.
Her academic trauma does not disappear outside of school, but unless Ellie is in a similar situation it simply won't be immediately obvious (speaking from experience). On top of that, David being a teacher does not help whatsoever.
-
Joel and Ellie agree on a first day of school, but they want to check out the building beforehand, just so they're both a bit more at peace. Ellie is somewhat excited but also scared, and the closer they get to the building, the quieter she becomes, just hanging onto Joel's hand and squeezing it until her knuckles turn white. He pulls her close, notices she is nervous, but he doesn't press and gets them inside. One of the handful of teachers, a woman about Joel's age (they're aware enough to not have it be a man, Silver Lake is a known topic), meets them at the door and shows them around.
Small classrooms with surprisingly comfortable looking wooden chairs (Ellie sees the pillows on them and her mind short-circuits), some old sofas and couches, armchairs, spacious desks and all kinds of posters and materials. There's an art room and it is the only time Ellie's grip on Joel loosens a tiny bit, the array of brushes, paints, and instruments fascinates her, but that moment passes as quickly as it came.
With every step they take, the teacher's voice blurs with Joel's and turns into white noise, her vision grows fuzzy and grey, and she has to keep blinking with fluttering lashes to not sway on her feet when the dissociation gets worse. Absently, her mind keeps cataloguing the floor plan, windows, doors, all exists she can make our and imagine, but by the end of the tour, she cannot remember anything past leaving their house this morning. Something tugs on her hand, and she blinks up at Joel, his gaze loaded with a question she didn't hear, and maybe ten weeks ago she would have pretended she had; she doesn't know.
Ellie doesn't even know why she is reacting like this, there are no specific memories popping up, nothing to fight back, just her mind and body slipping into a protective armor of static like they're pulling her into the fizzling TV in their living room.
"Ellie?"
The teacher's voice snaps her back to a pounding heart and a breath stuck in her lungs, and when she looks down at their clasped hands her nails have left marks in Joel's skin. She lets go at once, holding onto her wrists with her arms behind her back, and she still didn't hear the question. Every cell in her body is telling her to leave, pulling her toward the nearest exit, but she doesn't. There are memories flickering across her vision now, a decade of unjust, painful punishments and her body being pushed to its breaking point, and she decides the answer to that question is more important than whatever they had asked her.
"What do you do? For, like, punishment?"
Her voice is steadier than she is on her feet, so she rocks gently back and force to stop herself from swaying. Joel's gaze burns hot on her cheeks, but she keeps her eyes on the teacher, whose eyebrows are raised so high they disappear beneath her fringe.
"Punishment? We don't- there's not reason to punish forgotten homework or the like here, Ellie, it's supposed to be both fun and educational."
Something about the tone in her voice unsettles her, but the answer isn't satisfying, and she needs to know, needs to know the rules so she can follow them, because the art room looks like it might actually be fun to be in and she is so tired of dark lonely spaces and marks on her back; imagining the disappointed look on Joel's face when her teachers tell him about it is the worst of it all, though.
"What are the rules? When are the drills and what's the consequences for breaking the rules? Is there-" is there a hole, she wants to ask, but her breathing is fast and shallow, periphery dotted with dancing black spots, and she doesn't want to give them any ideas they didn't already have. Joel's hand lands on her back, right between her shoulder blades, and the warm weight his comforting without being oppressive, her breaths slowing just a smidge.
The woman with a name Ellie forgot is taller than Joel with the shoes she is wearing, and she she squats down, the look on her foreign face looks like a a finished puzzle, the final piece having snapped into place. Her features are rounded, soft, a stark contrast to the borderline malnourished and hardened look of pretty much every person around the QZ including her teachers, a few light-brown and grey strands escaping from her ponytail, and Ellie can't help but think that she looks - nice, non-threatening. School isn't supposed to be non-threatening, but this whole building is dripping with it, and it scares her to death; getting this ripped away from her as punishment will hurt even more than escaping packed, concrete classrooms.
"You grew up in a FEDRA school, right?" she asks, voice almost tender, and Ellie can only stare and nod while Joel rubs circles into her back.
"I heard stories about what it was like before I came here, horrible experiences no one should have to go through, especially not a child."
She sounds so much like Joel the comfort laced into her words manages to penetrate the static and soothe some of the panic, her eyes a bright hazel shade, not blue, and she keeps her distance even though she could easily get into Ellie's personal space
"Even before the outbreak, school wasn't like that, and it is definitely not like that here. There is no punishments, Ellie, no real rules or structure outside of general lesson plans, no consequences for not turning in work or being late. This is meant to provide some stability and education, give you a places to hang out with people your age, have some more people to connect with. If you don't want to be here, no one will force you."
Ellie doesn't cry. She doesn't. A deep breath and some determined blinking pull back the tears from her waterline and her chest aches with a vengeance when she thinks about how different it would have been here for her and Riley, how much better. Riley would still be alive. For a few minutes, they're all silent, allowing her to gather the scattered pieces of herself and glue them back together, and when she does, a tiny bit of the fear in her bones has made space for tentative excitement.
"I like the art room," she says quietly, feeling younger than she ever has, and a wave of something washes over all of them. "Do I- can I-"
"You can use it whenever you like, even outside of school hours, as long as you don't leave too much of a mess and use it responsibly."
Liliya, her brain finally provides, straightens her back again, and the lack of a last name during her introduction is probably part of what through her off. Ellie looks up at Joel, a muscle in his jaw ticking with suppressed anger, not at her, at FEDRA, she knows him well enough to realize that, and decides her question about The Hole is both best saved for another time and hopefully not relevant at all.
"Okay," Ellie responds, pressing herself back against Joel and melting when his arm protectively wraps around her shoulders, "I'll give it a try."
Over the relief rushing through her hairs, she barely hears the details the adults next to her discuss, happy to bury her face in Joel's shirt without shame, and she manages to shake off the last wisps of static clinging to her. Maybe this will work out for her, maybe it won't, maybe all she will use are the art supplies, but when they are lead back to the entrance, more than ready to go home, Liliya gives her a smile, eyes crinkling. For the first time in her life, Ellie smiles back at a teacher simply because she wants to, and the hopeful excitement sprouting in her chest is enough to tell her that she will be right on time for her first class on Monday.
#alex writes tlou#the last of us#tlou#joel and ellie#ellie williams#joel miller#ficlet#fedra school#some riley pain for Z <33#joel is a good fucking dad and that teachers is a good person#and ellie has mommy issues and can and will get attached but more about that later#ellie has academic trauma in so many ways this is literally not even scratching the surface but it scratched my itch for now#wanna guess how long my little reblog is or what was meant to be little anyway#wanna take a big fucking guess?#if you guessed 1.3k aka a WHOLE ASS FIC you are correct#i cant- i cant even anymore#anyway#back to doing literally anything else
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Grapejuice (fic) Part Three
Premise: To your dismay, an Italian reunion with Harry seems impossible to avoid, and it's time to start facing the music- after all, it seems you are the one who can't stay away.
Word Count: 9.7k
Warnings: Alcohol use, mind-blowing banter. Use of She/Her.
Part One Part Two
Fashion Board - Fic Playlist - Other Writing
-
You were still at a loss for words, soul sucked out of your throat - straight into his hands. Perhaps if you said nothing, this would remain a figment of your imagination.
But he was as real as he had been between your thighs, as he had been when you were beaming up at him, eyes doey and desiring to please.
You suddenly felt insecure – thrust onto a stage, the spotlight so terribly blinding. Harry was politely keeping his eyes trained on yours, awaiting a response he would never receive.
Savina, who could clearly sense you had just been sent straight into a torture chamber, quickly sits up, tossing her hat to the side and extending a warm introduction. You hadn’t noticed the man standing beside him but Savina recognised him from the first encounter outside the café, so she extended her welcome his way.
He introduced himself as Jeff, and before you could even think to protest, Savina invited both men to set up and join your little beach session. A kindness you hardly ever saw her express, and Harry accepted far too quickly for your liking.
Naturally, he chose to set his towel next to yours; and to make matters worse, he sat directly facing your side, legs bent forward, almost touching your hip. You slightly shifted away, aware that he would notice but not address it.
Savina took the liberty of keeping the light conversation flowing, prying on how Jeff knew Harry, what they were doing here, where they were staying and for how long. You heard not a thing; head thumping, chest burning.
Harry was particularly quiet, chiming in every so often, putting forth his best side for Savina, encouraging her to change her mind- or at least opinions on him. Harry was certain you had only shared vague details about him – even vaguer about your relationship.
And he tried to avoid being disappointed, still completely overwhelmed by finally confirming that he was, in fact, not crazy - you had been the person he saw running in the opposite direction – twice.
Harry was yet to understand why he found it so challenging to stay on planet Earth when in your presence. He had to keep himself grounded, trying his hardest to keep his gaze directed away from you,
“Of all the places…” you built up the courage to snap at him.
Harry took this with a grain of salt- knowing you well enough to expect rejection and complete weariness. For now, he deemed he could deal with those feelings when you weren’t fearsomely sitting across from him.
Savina ensured no gaps of silence settled, asking all the right questions – general and friendly. Jeff was eager to engage and happy to be in the company of others- the last day and a half consisted of only physically communicating with Harry. Harry, who had spent his hours mulling about, stuck in his head, totally distracted. Jeff didn’t know what his problem was- starting to ponder if this was how Harry behaved during his downtime.
You were still focused on regulating your heart rate, ears ringing, eyes staring blankly at the sea,
“So, Y/n, how do you and Harry know one another?” Jeff asked, startling you back into reality. Your lips parted, mind blank, and as you struggled to formulate a simple response, Harry stepped in and, to your surprise, helped you out,
“She’s Jack’s little sister-”
“Older sister.” you scoff, eyes rolling.
Jeff nodded along, having been around your brother in the past. He made the same face everyone made whenever Jack was mentioned; a look of approval after flashbacks of your chaotic-good, riot-of-a-time brother came to mind.
“Where is he staying this summer?”
“Alps.” both you and Harry spoke in sync.
You glanced his way, already sure he was smiling as a result. And he was - cheekily. Just as rapidly as before, your heart was beating against your chest. It was loud – orchestral; ears screeching, body-quaking thumps, waves crashing against the sand, and the chatter of the three people situated around you - they spoke with clarity, but you heard only mutters- feeling like a bomb had just detonated beside your head.
After applying extreme focus, the ringing in your ears dulled and replaced itself with the sound of talking- comprehensive conversation. The last thing you wanted was to give Harry a reaction. After all, it was what he lived for. But you both knew that it bothered you– Harry knew before he even said hello.
Your stubbornness kept you going – always had – and from extensive practice, you were sure you could tune out his existence– at least for the time being.
“He plans on staying until August.” you scoffed – your brother was a moron who always seemed to forget how much the snow displeased him,
“Bet he’ll last a month, tops.” Harry decided, and you briefly looked over in acknowledgement,
“A week.” you felt certain – remembering a phone call yesterday where Jack whined for far too long about another incident on the slopes.
“Wanna put money on it?” Harry tempted.
“Money? We’re not children.” Instantly regretting your choice of words.
“Is that a fact?”
“Don’t start.” Yet again, your anxiety surfaced- hot under the invisible collar of affection he clearly wanted to swaddle you with.
“So, no money?”
“No money.” You dismissed, breaking eye contact.
Harry thought about it for a while – certain he could find a cheeky consolation prize for his failed attempt at striking up some friendly competition.
“Doesn’t he hate the snow?” Savina pondered.
“Does it even snow there during the summer?” Jeff joined in.
“Some places snow all year round…surely?” Harry was sucked right into the confusion.
Your body was on fire, a headache threatening to split your forehead in half, and everything sounded like noise, sensory overload in full swing.
“You can still ski in some places in Switzerland during the summer. Christ, next thing you’re gonna ask where snow comes from.” the longer you stayed put, the sooner you found yourself setting alight.
“You already gave me that lecture in seventh grade.” Harry reminded.
“You thought snowflakes were a myth.”
“At least I didn’t take it upon myself to spend all week preaching safety tips.”
“I’m older. I know better.” you scoffed.
“Slanderous lies.”
“It doesn’t matter. Clearly, all of my warnings went in through one ear and out the other because you sprained an ankle and lost one of your ski sticks.”
“You bumped into me.” Harry leaned forward, ready to argue to the death.
“Fuck right off. You cannot bump into someone who is behind you. And you were certainly behind me, you fuckin’ klutz.” You reclaimed the nickname, amazed that you were still having this argument.
Harry always refused to let it go. It was one of the first times he learned that listening to you was probably a wise move. He remembers how frantic you had gotten- yelling at him for not listening, for hurting himself, and for finding it so amusing. But your eyes were so sweet, filled with concern, hands soft as they helped remove his gear.
“Oh please, you came out of it practically unscathed.” Harry scoffed.
“I still have a chipped tooth!” you couldn’t believe how incredulous he was.
“Well, my heart still hurts after you called me, ‘Dickhead. You foolish dickhead. Are you trying to get us killed?’” Harry had memorised it like his favourite song.
He deserved it then, and he deserves it now, you thought. And though Harry’s recklessness was anxiety-inducing, you couldn’t help how fun the day was – before and after his fall – there was minimal argument, plenty of laughter, and the best hot chocolate you’d had to date.
“I was being nice.” you offered.
“Oh, I know.” Harry said smugly, “Until recently, it was the nicest thing you’d ever said to me.”
A choral of your voice - singing sweet compliments his way, intent on luring him closer – made your stomach churn; the many, many pretty praises pointed straight at him. And just like that, all calm and collectiveness were sucked back into the Earth's core, replaced with only remorse and dread. There were no walls, and yet they were certainly closing in; you felt all eyes were on you now, burning into your skin with newfound curiosity- you couldn’t bear to look anywhere other than directly at him.
And he was looking right back at you, waiting to see if he had struck a chord, hoping to get more than just a dismissal. But he was sorely mistaken – underestimating your need for control, becoming more overwhelmed by the second.
Harry hadn’t the faintest clue about how he made you feel – how could he really? Your poker face could earn millions; your expression never faltered, no noticeable twitches, your body rejecting the ache to stiffen. But you could feel the cracks starting, threatening to shatter, spill all of your nerves out right into his lap, and if you stayed here a moment longer, you were sure to break.
With that in mind, you startled the group by standing abruptly, your book falling from your lap, hitting the towel, causing Harry to look away for a moment- enough time to gather your cool, pulling your shades back over your eyes, hiding sheer panic.
You turned to Savina, who was already looking at you puzzled, your words jumbling together, refusing to come out coherently. You searched desperately for an excuse- for some damn reason to get out of this mess. But all you could foolishly muster was both weak and faulty,
“It’s fucking swelting. Think I'm gonna go for a swim.” You turned with whatever confidence you could scrape to the surface, walking off toward the ocean– your guard only retreating once the sea enveloped your ankles, cooling you down in more ways than one.
You kept on forward, letting the salty water twist and wrap your thighs and belly- letting yourself sink into its embrace, dipping your head back until your hair dampened, fresh and comforting to your swelling brain.
As you straightened, letting your body bob between the waves, hands coming up to cup your face, hiding your embarrassment from even yourself. This was not your definition of summer- you were sure this was nobody's ideal vacation.
Harry was punctually proving that spending even ten minutes with him was a grave mistake. And you decided then and there that designating your time to avoid him was your best bet- your only guarantee that whatever vacation remained would stay sacred.
Your skin was pruning by the point of your begrudging departure from the water, taking your time and returning to where you had left Savina, Jeff, and Satan himself.
And a wave of relief, bigger than those you had been bobbing in, washed over you with fresh revival at the realisation that the men were no longer here, only Savina, deeply invested in The Old Man and the Sea, perched in one hand, the other strewn across her hip.
You reached down for your towel, wrapping it loosely across your shoulders,
“Y'know, reading that book is kinda foretelling.”
“Are you calling me an old man?” Savina turned, instantly shutting, and discarding the book.
“No, no. I think you’re struggling with the language barrier.” You teased.
“I speak better English than you.” Sshe reminded.
You scoffed, folding and putting your towel back down, sitting cross-legged. There was a moment of pause, an itch to ask what had happened after you went for a swim- but the relief you had felt suddenly intertwined with slight disappointment. Why had they left?
“They had lunch reservations.” Savina informed.
“You did not need to invite them to join us.” you reprimanded.
“And I didn’t need to invite them out for dinner tomorrow night, but I did.” She said matter-of-factly.
Rage, confusion, anxiety, and a little excitement. You couldn’t decide which to act on- instead, your jaw went slack, lips parted, eyebrows raised,
“You bitch.”
Savina chuckled, picked her book back up and continued reading.
🍷
Lunch had been a quiet affair; Jeff did most of the talking, and Harry did his best to listen. If it weren’t for the steaming serving of Shrimp Scampi keeping him sane, Jeff probably would have left Harry to his own devices for the day.
But, after eating had long passed, and the sun had set over the sea, Harry was still in a funk- one that Jeff had failed to see from him so far, which, in itself, was odd. Jeff was usually first witness to Harry going through the motions; stressed, anxious, overwhelmed or overjoyed.This mood is hard to pinpoint though. It almost seems like Harry is so deep in thought he has become dismissive of all surroundings.
Mid-way through the evening, when Harry unintentionally sighed for the third time in ten minutes, Jeff looked up from his phone, paused his round of Sudoku, and decided an investigation was in order,
“Is this how you behave on all holidays?”
“What does that even mean?” Harry shrunk back in the sofa, shading his wariness behind a surprised façade.
“You’re acting weird.” Jeff said, one brow arched, and as an afterthought, he decided to get straight to the point, “Is there something going on between you and Y/n?”
“Why would you say that?”
Harry ignored the little cupid’s dancing within the walls of his stomach, swallowing hard and staring out past the closest window, watching the sandy shores welcoming waves, the sea sparkling under the waning moon.
“For starters, I don’t think I’ve seen you get this flustered around someone before.” Jeff tested, “Which is… something.” He was too observant, which obviously didn’t help soothe the little stars and hearts swirling around like a halo above Harry’s head.
“…Don’t know what you’re on about.” He murmured timidly.
Jeff couldn’t comprehend why Harry seemed so reluctant to talk to him- surely if the two of you were purely platonic he would have no reservations just clarifying. Right now, Harry could barely look at Jeff, forehead compressed in an intense moment of introspection.
A phone notification pinged, distracting Jeff momentarily, and Harry was back to his belligerent thoughts of yours truly. The knots in his stomach were ones of excitement and anticipation, but his head was advising him to halt, to be realistic for once in his life, even if a piece of his heart took a hit along the way.
“So?” Jeff sternly pressed on, dropping his phone back into his lap.
“So… what?”
“Is there something going on between the two of you?”
“No…Maybe…I don’t know.” Harry exhaled mercifully, only perplexing himself further.
“What’s the problem?” The muddy waters were only worsening- Jeff had never heard of you, and now he was hooked on figuring out exactly why that was the case.
“She’s Jack’s sister, for starters.” Harry stressed, finally sharing his apprehension.
“Does he care?” honest curiosity.
“Probably not.” Harry hadn’t really thought about that part.
“Does she care?” Jeff worded.
“Oh, for sure.” He knew that for sure.
🍷
Harry was lying in bed now, the window ajar, salty summer breeze mixing with the lull of waves crashing in the distance. A secret sliver of the moon peeked through the sheer curtains, dancing across his face, illuminating his features, flickering like a flashlight above his shut eyelids.
With a huff, he grabbed a fistful of the thin cotton sheet covering his torso, crinkling it between his palm, tugging it along with him as he turned over, facing his back to the moon.,
Harry couldn’t fall asleep, and even if he could, he wasn’t letting himself. His thoughts were on a sugar high, replaying the entirety of today on repeat; hyper-focused on the moments that included you, the sun crisping your edges, sunscreen turning to golden gloss atop your soft skin.
And though he felt tremendous relief knowing he was, in fact, not delusional. You were as real as you had been the last time he saw you - sweetly slobbering, just for him – Harry felt you slipping further away. Especially after your less-than-stellar reception to his arrival- it could have been chalked up to the fact that you were surprised to see him, but something in Harry knew better.
And when you jumped up off of your towel, body seeming scorched, scalded and scathing - desperate to separate from him- he easily confirmed you were running from him.
Harry felt a pang in his heart each time he thought of you walking away, unable to drift off peacefully knowing that you were so close, and he had blown the opportunity once more. He would sell his soul to find out what went on in your head-especially regarding him. Harry thought he would gladly doze off into slumber, wrapped in the soothing comfort of your headspace.
Yet here he was, his mind and body riddled with inertia- swallowed and swaddled by the sheets- he felt lonelier than he would have liked to admit. Harry knew just how well your body fit so snugly with his own, considering the feeling of tugging you closer, tangling yourselves into one whole being.
Never in his right mind would he have actually expected to see you here. He had sooner accepted that he was slipping into delusions- and somehow still easier to pretend that was the case. At least then he wouldn’t be trapped in this limbo.
As you walked away, Harry quickly glanced over at Savina, and they shared a brief but curious exchange. Jeff, none-the-wiser – reminded Harry that they still had that lunch reservation. Though he wished to stay, feet buried within the sand, relief rushed through his veins- frustration for, once again, being unprepared in your presence.
He hadn’t expected you to be so standoffish, a hint of discomfort seeping through your usual style of banter. Harry worried it was because of him- because you truly couldn’t stand being near him.
Punctured with confusion, but almost certain that you had meant it when you were asking for him with such a needy craving that night in his bedroom, Harry still felt he knew you- knew not to take it too personally when you sent such frigidity his direction. He couldn’t – and wouldn’t – let it get to him.
His neck started to ache, threatening to spasm if he didn’t punctually readjust. And with that being the case, Harry lifted himself up and swung his legs over the mattress- feet softly thudding against the hardwood.
Waiting on his eyes to adjust to the darkness, his hand blindly roamed the nightstand in search of his phone. Coming out successful, he unlocked the screen, glancing at the time, 01:13. He decided this was still a reasonable-enough hour, going to recent calls and pressing dial- knowing the man on the end of the receiver was still awake- confirmed when the call connected after two rings,
“Talk to me, baby.”
“Why are you still awake?”
“Why would you call unless you thought I was?” Jack starts to think, offended that Harry would have called whether he was asleep or not.
“And why didn’t you tell me Y/n was in Capri?”
“I didn’t think you’d care.” He says nonchalantly.
“Well, you thought wrong.” Harry tries not to snap.
Either Jack can’t tell that his friend is currently rather moody, or he can tell and just doesn’t care. Considering that their consistent friendship spans two decades, there’s a high likelihood Jack made a more-than-conscious choice to dismiss Harry’s demeanour. Instead he takes the opportunity to do what he does best, complain,
“Dude, I’m freezing out here. I fear I might have hypothermia, and I burnt my tongue on a cup of hot chocolate first night here- barely have any taste buds left. And, for some reason, I have this feeling I’m gonna get caught in an avalanche, I know, I know, that might be irrational but-”
“Stop whining. Go somewhere sunny. Go to the sea, I’m already looking forward to hearing you worry about hyperthermia instead.” Harry griped petulantly.
“Not a bad idea…” Jack considers.
It sounds like Jack has started busying himself on the other end of the line, shuffling around as Harry contemplates bringing you up again. But, sleep will be hard to find if he chooses not to, and he’d kick himself for backing out,
“Your sister doesn’t seem very keen on me being here…”
“Yeah, she didn’t sound too impressed.”
“You spoke to her?” Harry almost sits up fully, soft sheets pooling at his waist.
“Well, she sent me some rather colourful texts earlier.” Still, in the midst of doing something, Jack definitely has the phone on speaker now, veering further from Harry’s evident curiosity.
“What about?” posed with caution,
“Same as you. Wanted to know why I didn’t tell her you were coming.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Don’t know why you’re both suddenly so interested in one other. I could just send you her number- would help stop me from having to be the messenger.” Jack groused.
“Not necessary.” Harry quickly dismissed, his nerves untangling as relaxation began to wash over him. He liked the idea of you being interested in him. For now, that was enough to lull him into a state of sleep, “You are the worst messenger, though.”
“And you love me, bitchboy.” He sang with silly spirit, voice nearing the speaker.
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t think insurance will pay out if you die on the slopes... Maybe keep that in mind?”
“That’s it. I’m getting out of here, man.”
“Good for you.” Harry affirmed, yearning for a yawn.
“Tell Y/n I say hi!” Jack merrily tormented.
“Fuck off.” He chuckled lazily, eyes visited by the Sandman. Throwing in an, ‘I love you’, promises of their next dialogue happening during daylight hours, and a threat of coming to visit, the call came to an end.
Harry released a lengthily postponed sigh, palm pressing to his forehead, before his phone emitted a startling ding, Jack’s name lighting up. Attached are the words, 'I think my fingers are freezing. Will they fall off?', as well as your name and number.
He wanted to roll his eyes, dusty rose coating the apples of his cheeks- shyness coursing through him, and great relief that Jack had dismissed his protests- swooning at the digits belonging to you, feeling a little closer- nearer.
Customizing your contact details, gifting you the title of Klutz with a wine glass emoji for finesse, Harry’s eyes finally swell shut with sleepiness, body soothed back into the sheets, already drifting into dreamland by the time his head hits the pillow.
🍷
You would sooner face the guillotine than admit how long you took to choose an outfit for dinner. Throwing clothes in your suitcase the morning of your flight- ‘it’s not like I’ll have anyone impress’ mixed with ‘I put off packing to binge-watch Kitchen Nightmares’- was now biting you in the ass. Why the fuck did you bring so many socks? When would you even use them?
When you had finally settled on something- consisting of a white tee tucked into a high-waisted coral and pink mermaid-esque skirt, paired with white latex ankle boots, a cream belt and a matching mini baguette bag- it was time to start fussing over hairstyles and by the end of that, it was a miracle you hadn’t ripped out all of the hair on your head. It was only when you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror that your confidence returned, and you mustered up as much of it as you could to get through the next few hours.
The chosen restaurant was spacious, built with cobblestone, and decorated with dark green vines and eclectic hardwood tables. Harry and Jeff were already waiting on the sidewalk. Greeting you warmly, the sudden kiss Harry pressed to your cheek was startling but welcomed, and you hoped he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed wishfully.
Settling in, Harry makes it very clear that he intends to sit next to you- forcing Jeff to the end of the table without a chance for choice. It had been expected, but still, you felt the familiar bubbling of anxious uncertainty within you. The only promising factor was the chance to eat- something you had been too distracted to do all day.
An awkward silence lulled over, only amplifying the splitting headache you soon faced. Harry looks at you as if he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the world. Gaze happily settled on your own- and your lack of comfortability- clearly revelling in it all. If the wine you had ordered would just arrive, perhaps your nerves would settle.
“Thanks for inviting us, Savina.” Jeff started after a subtle clearing of the throat, and everyone was more than grateful for it.
“Oh, of course! It’s such a coincidence bumping into someone Y/n knows from home. We just had to have dinner.” She shot a cheeky glance your way, and you hoped to God that the dim lighting would mask the blush rushing across your cheeks,
“Well, we didn’t have to.” You mumbled, regretting it as Harry’s ears instantly perked up,
“Cancelled another hot date, did you, Y/n?” With each word, he seemed closer and closer, pricking at your emotions, stirring frustration back to the surface each time it threatened to settle down.
“Do I sense jealousy?” You felt yourself shifting forward, arms resting impatiently atop the table.
“Just curiosity.” He shrugged, relaxing back into his chair, arms folded across his chest with nonchalance,
“What are you, a cat?” You dismissed him, turning both your attention and body to face the others, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jeff.”
“Likewise, I’ve heard plenty about you.”
“Hope I live up to my reputation then.” Shrugging, you glance over at the loved-up boy from your childhood, and he's already looking at you longingly.
“Oh, trust me, you already are.” Jeff chuckles with certainty,
“Really?” you pondered, mirroring the curiosity that flashed across Harry’s features.
“I can’t help but enjoy seeing Harry being put in his place.” Jeff shrugged, sending a reassuring wink across the table.
“Ah, you’re the designated babysitter?” You quizzed heartily.
“I hardly need a babysitter.” Harry defended in an instant.
“Hardly.” Jeff emphasised.
“You make it sound like I’m a child.” Harry worked hard to remain still- tempted to act out with a pout and a soft foot stomp.
“All I’m saying is, it’s refreshing.”
“To see me being scolded?”
“The constant praising is great but…” Jeff’s face scrunched sympathetically.
“Tiring?” Savina tries.
“Exhausting?” you add.
“Alright, alright.” Harry shushed with a playful eye roll- mostly directed at yourself.
The waiter arrived with a newly opened bottle of Merlot, gesturing for confirmation to pour a tester into the large glasses you were each designated. Savina approved, taking the liberty of tasting for the table. With a delighted suck of the teeth and a nod, the waiter went on to fill each glass.
“So, Savina, what line of business are you in?” Jeff asked between his first sip- pleased with the bitterness greeting his pallet.
Savina knew exactly what she was doing as she blocked her courtesy and left you with the challenge of creating some form of communication with Harry. He proved to be kinder, however, taking the opportunity to show signs of life,
“What’s good here?” he made no effort to check out the menu,
“Everything.” no effort on your part either.
“Narrow it down.”
“Well, you can never go wrong with Risotto alla Milanese…you’d probably really like Parmigiana- but either way, we should get the Olives Ascolante as an appetizer, they’re incredible, and I know you love olives…”
“Look at you, so astute.” He was trying not to grin back at you, heart silently swelling at the subtle affection you had let slip,
“Shove off.” You prayed he would let it slide.
Thankful for the return of the waiter, you took the liberty of ordering appetizers accordingly- glancing over at Harry to confirm he was satisfied with your choices. As an afterthought, you asked for a side of Rice Arancini.
Harry was enjoying his vacation more than ever, unabashedly sending a smile straight to your heart, hairs rising up the back of your neck,
“What?” You asked when it was clear he was in no hurry to look away,
“I like it when you’re assertive.”
“Yeah, why am I not surprised?”
“Guys?” In sync, your heads turned to the other two, “Should we also order some Focaccia for the table?” Nodding- in sync- Savina was quick to ignore you once more, “Got it. I started in Milan…”
Twirling your index finger around the glasses rim, you had unknowingly prompted Harry to finally reach for his own wine, taking a curious sip. Wine was something he hardly humoured, even during his previous stays in Italy. His eyes lit up with adorable surprise, and a wave of endearment washed over you, the familiarity of Harry reappearing for the first time since even before your… incident(s),
“This is good.” He praised, lips glossed over, reattaching to the glass for more.
“I know.”
“No, like, really good.” He tried to emphasise entirely
“I know.” You sent him a cheesy smile, reciprocating the need to completely confirm that you two were on the same page.
“If the wine back home tasted this way,” his eyes still wide, going in for a third sip, “I’d have stopped with the scotch years ago.”
“Please, you love your Johnny Walker too much.” You tried your best not to pay attention to the stray droplets staining his bottom lip- it would be too easy to kiss away all remnants.
“Fuck, this is so good though.” Harry felt unnecessarily revolutionary, “made in Italy?” putting his glass down to reach over and grab the bottle,
“I would hope so.” “Siena. Thank fuck.”
“With this many vineyards nearby, it would be criminal to drink anything else,” you engaged your own glass, taking savoured sips, lashes unintentionally fluttering their way into the crevices of his heart.
“Been to any good ones so far?” Harry asked, leaning nearer with the excuse of the restaurant being a little loud, looking at you like he had loved you far too long- something you mistook for boyish fascination, it had always been just that, right?
“Wineries?” You asked for confirmation he granted with a soft nod, “Oh, of course. Did a tour from Modena down through Bologna. At some point the trip did turn a bit blurry… but from what I recall, the wine just kept getting better and better.”
“I’ve never done a wine tasting before.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No?” he had never even thought about it before.
“Too much business, not enough pleasure?” You prodded, and as usual, you were correct. Harry had definitely spent plenty of time travelling- for the purpose of work.
You knew this without him ever needing to tell you, though you typically minimized the importance of his career, you were one of the only people who understood this- and he wasn’t sure why you did… but it only helped reinforce the certainty he felt about the two of you, you just understood him, and you would never, ever admit that you knew he understood you too.
“Exactly.” He agreed with subtle satisfaction, and a settled silence grew between yourselves, as you took another sip, swirling the rouge for a moment more.
“…Better change that then.”
“Yeah?” Harry’s entire body perked up, hoping you would lead him directly in your trap, and everything in you wanted to go with him, to spend time with him. An invitation ached to slip from your tongue, fighting contradiction, just dying to tour wine country with Harry. But in true fashion, you tracked back on every feeling of affection and offered.
“I’m sure Jeff would love to go.”
And Harry was lured straight into disappointment, having already indulged in the idea of spending time with you- ideally at your own suggestion. He was sure it looked like you were willing, if not pretty eager, but there was no way the frown accompanying your conflicting thoughts could go unnoticed. Harry knew this face well enough; you had sported it through most of senior year. Every time it seemed you were about to reconsider, to give in, a sudden reality check seemed to pull you back, retreating into nothing but a bowed head and twiddling fingers.
The aroma of the appetizers finally arrived, scattered across the tabletop with the threat of mouth-watering bite-sized pieces of heaven. The conversation is almost completely forgotten to you, your senses elated with the promise of food, and your hands are moving every which way, grabbing one of everything, piling your plate plentifully.
And even though the sight of your eyes rolling back, lips parted, as you taste a spoonful of, clearly entices him to try some for himself, Harry still thinks back to your last words, taking over your habit of overthinking. He can tell his brows are furrowed, can’t help himself from shifting his chair to face you, his arm resting across the table,
“How long are you gonna keep this act up?”
You glanced up at him, Arancini half-chewed, eyes wide and heart thudding. Taking extra time swallowing, pushing it by reaching over for a sip of wine, you felt scorched by his stare and attempted another aversion,
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about...”
“We both know you’ve done damn near everything in your power to avoid me.”
“Now that’s just not true.” You try.
“Oh, really?” His forehead raised.
You were trapped in a stare-off; Harry was clearly keeping you there by the challenging glimmer of his pretty green eyes. But, you don’t lose,
“I haven’t done everything in my power…”
“Oh my god, you’re infuriating!” Harry has to stop his hands from flailing around dramatically,
“And you aren’t?” You defended, unable to commit to keeping your hands at bay, and Savina glances over with a brow raised in suspicion.
Quickly detaining your outward display of displeasure, your hand finds the wineglass once more, taking a hefty gulp as Harry obtains the opportunity to get closer, eyes darting to the two diners across the table, engaging in a mild debate. His voice lowers,
“At least I didn’t almost get hit by a Vespa trying to run away from you.”
Almost choking on your wine, withholding a cough, spluttering out in utter surprise- and undoubtedly shameful understanding,
“You know about that?”
“I do now!” Harry exclaims, shocked that his suspicions have been confirmed.
“I didn’t almost get hit.”
Attempting to turn your attention back to the act of dining, Harry finally reached out and grabbed an olive and popping an olive between his teeth, crunching down on it, his smile mixed into one both of enjoyment for the food, and sheer amusement for your attitude.
“What’s your plan, Klutz? To be the cause of pileups all summer?”
The sheer suggestion of spending the rest of your vacation avoiding him and the ever-increasing fondness you felt whenever in his presence. And looking over at the man who seemed only capable of enjoying your company, you only panicked more,
“You’ll be here all summer?”
“Well, if my staying will keep you this riled up, I think it’s my obligation to.” He was taking this less than seriously,
“Harry, I swear-”
“Man, my name never sounded so good being chewed out.” He’s met with only sternness, a glare that had him feeling like a scolded schoolboy. And he didn’t like your stare- not when you could be coating him in sweetness, so his features soften, his taunting tone turning tenderness, “We’re friends, Y/n, I’ll make sure I don’t get on your nerves…more than usual.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” you ask meekly, shoulders relaxing and soothed by his surety, but still too sceptical to believe him. And when Harry sees this in the way your eyes stay squinted, he wants to reach over and soothe every frown line with soft kisses,
“Trust me, I would hate to see your arms and legs covered in bandages…would be such a shame.”
He takes a long sip of his wine, savouring the way it tantalizes his senses, before reaching over and popping another olive into his mouth, chewing and talking consecutively,
“Besides, I have plenty of sweet nothings lined up for you… can’t bear to keep them all in.”
“Bet?” you fail to resist falling for his promises of future-fondness.
“Might fuck around and writing another song about you.” He shrugs candidly.
“Another?”
Head racing, hurriedly scanning through the roller deck of songs and memories that pertained to Harry, you couldn’t begin to highlight a moment or song worth writing for your sake. You want- no, need- him to say more, to give you something to soothe the idea that Harry might have been right about his feelings all along- that this ‘thing’ between the two of you was nothing new, only brushed aside.
“Y/n, Harry. Are you guys ready to order the main course, or do you need a moment to finish flirting?” Savina interrupted, amusement showing in both her tone and her taunting smile. Your defence was back and bigger than ever, and you bit back with dismissal,
“We were not flirting.”
“Well, one of us was.” Harry mutters.
“That’s your problem.” You shut him down sternly, sliding your chair an inch further from his intensity, you focus all attention on the question at hand, “I’m ready to order.”
🍷
Wine glasses are empty, the bill is taken care of, and you can finally admit that relaxation has set in. With no further incidents during dinner, there was finally space to enjoy Harry’s company. Though that only reminded you of how fond you were of him, the night was young, and Harry was sure to resort to naughtiness.
Glancing between the group, Savina made certain her next suggestion wouldn’t result in you retreating to a coffin. And with one more smile of endearment from you- directed at Harry’s detailing of an event he attended- she decided it was a safe bet,
“Should we check out some of the bars?”
With a collection of cohesive nods, the restaurant was left behind in search of a place with dimmer lighting and louder music.
Standing on the sidewalk, the air was warm, but when Harry’s boot accidentally knocked your own, your skin had an eruption of goosebumps.
“I remember this little one on the corner of Regazzi. Very nice for dancing.” Saved by Savina, you had an excuse to take a step away, ensuring no further bump-ins with Harry.
“Lead the way.” Jeff agreed, and with that, you were all headed off down the street.
A quaint but bustling location, already filled with enthusiastic guests grooving along to a song you faintly remember playing in a nightclub in downtown Rome? The energy was infectious, bobbing and weaving between those dancing. It took a moment to source a small table for the group to gather around. Instead of occupying the seat next to you- which you swear you hadn’t hoped he would select- Harry stayed standing, addressing the collective,
“What are we drinking?”
Savina was quick to name Sangria, Jeff offered to join Harry, and you were about to order your classic Gin and Tonic when the memories of Harry taking care of it for you came flooding back, and your feelings of bashfulness were asking to be fed once more,
“Surprise me.” Batting your lashes, his eyes lit up, confirmed with a nod; Harry, with Jeff in tow, made their way through those dancing in search of the bar.
They were hardly out of earshot when Savina gently grasped at your wrist, giving it a shake, her smile growing,
“He’s fabulous!”
You scoff as the last person on your side seems to be switching teams, leaving you open to feeling crazier than you already did. He was fabulous, but you swear you aren’t wrong in finding him aggravating,
“You’re just saying that because he’s Harry Styles.”
“You know I don’t care about that.” Savina dismissed.
“Yeah, well, I wish you would.” She was right. You knew there was no reasoning.
“C’mon, he’s cute! A little puppy!”
“I don’t want cute.” Griped through gritted teeth.
“But you do want him?” She already knows the answer.
Who were you fooling? Either you were miserable at hiding your attraction for Harry, or it had gotten so strong that the mere energy between the two of you was telling. Probably both, and neither would gain your admittance any time soon,
“No. I told you, it was a lapse in judgement.”
“No such thing.”
“He’s annoying. He’s famous- and childish- and he’s fucking everywhere I go! Can’t close my damn eyes without his pretty little face popping up like a Jack-in-the-box.”
“What’s that?”
“Jack-in-the-box.” That cleared up nothing. Savina’s gaze is perplexed.
“… Your brother is in a box… in your head?”
“No. Those boxes that sing when you wind them up,” You used your hands in an attempt to describe the boxes shape, “and then a clown pops out of nowhere, and you’re like, ah! Why didn’t I see it coming?”
“Oh my God, yes!” Savina almost cheers with comprehension, “My cousin loved that thing… what is this universal fascination with clowns?”
“Like, who is their demographic?”
“I’ve never met a child who likes clowns.” This was taking a real detour,
” Plus, they don’t have the greatest rep.”
“Always trying to eat children… yeah, kids are definitely not the demographic….” Savina thought about it a moment, and you were sure you had successfully managed to divert the conversation from Harry until Savina did a one-eighty, “Anyways, stop running. Let him take you out. It could be fun.”
“That would make me a clown.”
“You’ve been acting like one since he got here, no?”
“No.” You had been acting nothing but rationally; hiding behind a tree was perfectly normal under the circumstances… right? Or did you really need to run when you saw him from the sidewalk? There’s no way he would have spotted you. Turns out, you had been acting anything but rationally, “Oh God. I have, haven’t I?”
“A little.” Savina smiled sympathetically, grateful you were finally catching on to the bizarreness of your behaviour these last few days.
“I almost died trying to avoid him!” Your eyes were wide with embarrassment, absolutely mortified.
“I, for one, would like to see you relax.” She confessed, “It would help me do the same.”
“You took two naps today.”
“Because I needed to relax.”
Across the restaurant, Harry waited anxiously for their round of drinks, trying his best to seek you out within the movement of other patrons. He was granted quick glances before bodies moved to the beat and blocked you once more.
“You really like her." Jeff observed,
“Obviously.” Harry thinks anyone who spent even five minutes with you two would be able to see the wishful fondness he felt for you.
“Why am I only finding this out now?”
Harry really didn’t want to get into it- especially since you clearlydidn’t want to.
“Because I’ve barely seen her the last five years.” He concedes, and when Jeff only looks at him like he’s speaking gibberish, Harry is forced to go on,
“It’s like she’s suddenly everywhere. I mean, she’s always been everywhere, but now she’s like… everywhere… y’know?”
“Sure…” It’s becoming rather evident to Jeff that Harry isn’t sure when he stands with you, and as the conversation hits a dead end, the drinks arrive, and they busy themselves with making their way back to the table.
🍷
Your drink- long finished- forms a large part of being the reason you wanted to dance- so badly that your boots basically stood up on their own and made their way over to the make-shift dancefloor, slipping in between bodies vibing along to the beat.
It felt good to relax- as Savina would suggest- and you felt the release of all pent-up frustration as it left your body and disappeared into the crowd, no longer your burden to bear. The rest of the group had scattered, and for a while, that went unnoticed as the dancing held your undivided attention.
Harry was simply a thing of the past until you did a little twirl, and unbelievably, he was in your direct eye line. Leaning against the wall, an almost empty scotch in his hand, he seemed to be comfortably observant.
The checked overshirt he donned was doing a half-hearted job at covering his chest- most of which was on display due to his choice of a low, low-cut white undershirt. His pants were a peachy-pink hue, not unlike your skirt, and like you, his sneakers were white to match. He’s dressed good. So good that you aren’t surprised when a girl starts to approach him. That doesn’t stop you from almost choking, insecurity suddenly invading your free spirit, and it killed you how much it bothered you to see him tilt his head to hear her better, a smile as she spoke, leaning in even closer.
Determined to stay sane, you continued to dance, looking anywhere but the scene of what you deemed a crime. But when you were about to explode from the need to let your eyes wander back to him, you looked over, heart sighing with liberation, when it became clear he was alone again.
That wasn’t enough, though, your target had been set, and the need to dance was done and gone. Your body didn’t want to sway; it wanted you across the room, trapping Harry against that stupid wall. So, you let that ambition carry you across the dancefloor, dodging dancers, focused on reaching his unsuspecting figure.
Harry followed the trail of your shoes up to the determined look plastered across your face as you seemed to be suddenly bounding over. He hadn’t managed to spot you, searching the crowd for as long as he had been standing in this corner.
Before he could blink, you were before him, slotting your feet in the space between his own. The gap between you was small, but you gestured to it anyways, finally acknowledging the fact that you happened to be dressed similarly,
“I like the way you dress.”
“I get it from you.” His head bowed to see you better, smile beaming down at you like you were the only person in the world.
“I thought about the bet….” You started, chest tilting into his own, brushing up against him.
“Ready to put money on it?”
“No.”
“Then?” He wondered, hands finding their home on your hips, tugging you a tad closer, his eyes flickering back and forth across your features, loving the fact that you looked like you wanted him.
Your palm flat against his chest, the other resting on his forearm, only seemed to confirm Harry’s suspicions. Pushing up on your tippytoes, lips lining with his ear, your voice, low and sultry, threatened to turn Harry to mush. But that wasn’t your plan,
“If I win, you have to stop with all your little flirty remarks-”
“Why would I agree to-” His eyes augmented with horror.
“If you win, I’ll go on out with you... on a date.”
Harry wanted to laugh. You had stumbled into a trap he hadn’t realised was set the moment he had phoned Jack last night. But his body was in a shamble of shivers and goosebumps, hands pressing into your hips, pulling you closer, your chest bumping into his own.
“Do you hate my compliments that much?” He cooed, hoping to charm you closer.
“No. I just want to wipe that smugness right off of your lips.” You slide your hand out from the trap of his chest and your own, wrapping it around his shoulder, nails raking across the back of his neck.
“Deal.” Harry hardly held back his enthusiasm, pupils swallowing the swirls of mossy-green whole.
“I’m sticking with one week.” You ignored the way his reaction sent a rush of encouragement straight up your spine and instead indulged in the feeling of him melting under your touch- like a magnet to your presence.
Harry’s face was closer now, his forehead threatening to brush against your own. Your grip tightens, hanging on to anything he might say next.
“Three days… max.” He was almost aching with adamance.
“Better get the last of those compliments in, Styles. Make ‘em count.” You tried to warn, putting all available energy into maintaining control, but it was hard when he was still inching closer, his voice husk and for your ears only,
“Even if you win, I have a feeling we would both miss those compliments terribly.”
Unfortunately, he was far from wrong. This was a last-ditch attempt on your behalf- and you knew that going into it. You could have easily dismissed the bet altogether- easily dismissed it even now, instead of pushing on with fervour.
“You don’t know that.” You swallowed, trying to remain factual- hating the way he made you feel so submissive. Your comfortability of being the older, mature one was almost non-existent the moment he opened his mouth. Cursing yourself for this sudden willingness to let him take the reins.
“I’m almostcertain I do.” he wouldn’t budge. It only made you want him more as you unconsciously lilted into him, leaving no gaps to be found,
“You’re far too hopeful.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
“Cute.” Sarcasm masking the way your heart did a hurdle- threatening to jump right into his arms.
“I know you are, but what am I?” Harry’s words brush over you with a mix of musk and mint, breath fanning over your cheeks, making your eyelashes flutter,
“Annoying.”
“What else?” He’s so close now, jaw tilted and taunting you to reach out and grab at him.
“Insufferable.”
“And?” His eyes are blown-out, one of his hands slipping from your waist and wrapping around your lower back. Trapped in his hold- and never wanting to leave- your former frustration was nowhere to be found, nudging your nose against the nape of his neck, lips brushing the warmth of his skin,
“And, sometimes, I want to just fuck the brattiness out of you.”
Pretending the words that you had uttered were ineffective, Harry struggled to breathe; his brain scrambled, ready to be seasoned and served on a platter. His grip only tightening at your tantalizing warning, ready to do whatever it took to make it a reality,
“Might take a couple tries….”
You breathe out at his suggestion, soft laughter tickling at his neck. You’ve never enjoyed being in the arms of someone more- and you ensure it stays that way, arms wrapping around him with warmth, pulling him impossibly closer. You press a soft kiss to the slope of his jaw and inform,
“Would be worth it.”
🍷
Jack doesn't mean to, but he sneaks up on you- consumed in overwhelming thought, staring blankly at the copy of Crime and Punishment strewn across your lap.
“Miss me?” His voice was sharp, slicing through the silence, sending a shockwave your way.
Your legs jolted- gravity dragging the heftiness of Dostoevsky off of your lap and onto the floor. But it was long forgotten, bent askew atop the tiles.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” You spat, seething at your brother as if you were sure that he was here just to spite you.
“I’m here to make this the best summer ever!” He hollered, embodying the energy of a teen on spring break.
“Does Harry know you’re here?”
“I’m not digging this lack of enthusiasm…” He half-pouted.
“Jack, respectfully, I will pay you to leave.” You bargained with the panic within, threatening to trap your tongue between teeth.
“Keeping the bit going, I love it!” Jack was hardly listening to you. Instantly falling into the routine of sibling comradery.
“I’m not doing a bit. You have to leave before Harry sees you!”
“Well, it’s too late for that.” His creased brows met in the middle, looking at you as if you were suddenly alien.
“What?” Panic was fizzling over, foaming at the gums.
“I called him before my flight, and he gave me all the details.” He shrugged.
“Details?”
“Yeah. I’m staying with him. He said he thought you wouldn’t be overjoyed having to host me, which is rude, by the way.”
It was as if you were simultaneously thinking and not thinking at all. The inside of your head was suddenly a jumble of letters, an amalgamation of nonsensical emotions. The rug had been ripped from right under you.
“So… he knows that you’re here?”
“Gee, Jack. It’s so good to see you. I missed you too…” He mocks, having expected better reception. Whatever was brewing between you and Harry was not going unnoticed.
“I’ll deal with you later.” You huffed, turning on your heels.
Your head was a pot, thoughts bubbling and boiling over, steam surely sputtering from your nostrils as you stormed out of the house and onto the sidewalk. Taking two steps at a time, almost tripping, shoes scuffing the paving as you muttered your frustrations aloud.
The day was joyous- and you hated that – raindrops swirling within a cloud floating atop your head just as a crown would. It was more than obvious that Harry had been playing you all along. The part of you that felt mortified had rushed all heat to your blushing cheeks, and the part of you that felt so silly- so gullible- had you picking up your pace until abruptly arriving.
“Harry!” Fists thumping against the hardwood as if it was personally responsible,
“Harry.” Louder- thudding harder- indisputably sending your frustrations his way.
He took his time, bare feet strolling along the porcelain tiles. Running a hand through his hair, he unhooked the latch and smiled as your flared cheeks and kissable pout finally came into view.
He smiled knowingly, opening the door fully before leaning lazily against the frame, eyeing you up and down with endless patience, noting how lovely you looked in lilac; skin soft and shimmering under the sun, hair pulled back and certainly warm to the touch. He thought for a moment more, lips spreading into a smirk, and then shrugged,
“There were no rules stating I couldn’t make use of the information Jack provided.”
“It’s- that’s- what you did was totally unethical!” You reasoned, pushing past Harry into the villa, arms across your chest, owning the entire entrance hall. Harry only looked more entertained, enjoying the flashes of frustration in your eyes.
“Unethical?”
“Yes!” you settled.
“I won fair and square-”
“Not fair. Not square.” You all but whined, and a shiver shook at Harry’s spine; scenes of you pressed up against him, pleading for his affection.
“Wow, Y/n. I’ve never known you to be a sore loser.”
Harry was pushing buttons for sure, seeing how much closer he could bring you, guiltlessly loving the attention you were paying him- even if it was lacking positivity, if it was all you were willing to give, he had to have it.
“I am not a sore loser.” You defend, accusatory finger pointing directly at him, “You tricked me.”
“I hardly tricked you.” He scoffed, eyes rolling fetchingly.
“You omitted very important details.”
“We both knew he was on the brink of leaving.” He rationalised, “I simply gave him a little nudge.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I could say the same about you.” He challenges.
“This is like blood money or blood diamonds, I don’t know.” Coming to terms with the catastrophic choice to indulge in this bet, you hadn’t thought this far ahead- you hadn’t actually thought about it at all. What happened next?
“Oh, please.” He mused. But when you only seemed to look more upset, Harry softened, guilted and regretted putting you in this position, “If you want to back out, I won't judge. We can forget the bet ever existed.”
He meant it with all sincerity, but the words whisked over your head, hopelessly mistaking his sympathy for torment. This man had to be up to something. There was no way he would give you such a hard time only to retreat at the first sign of resistance. So, instead of taking him at face value, you switched up your tactics- whatever they were and tried a different defence,
“Ha. You’d just love that, wouldn’t you?”
“No, I would not, missy.”
Harry laughed the words your way, arms folding atop his chest, almost totally distracting you as his muscles constricted against his flimsy t-shirt as it threatened to shift and expose the pleasing sight of the soft skin belonging to his hips and pelvis. Taking a step nearer, your next sentence would send Harry into a world of excitement,
“We’re going on that date,” You said it straight, but when Harry shifts, and his stomach peeks past the thin cotton, you add for your own sake and reminder, “and I’m gonna make damn sure you regret it.”
“Is that a threat?” He tries to move even closer, but you take a step back and then another, preparing to turn on your heels and put him behind you.
“Yes, Harry Styles.”
It’s time to get out of here before you say more things you can’t retract, and there’s plenty of leftover angst you can project onto Jack, whom you only now acknowledge is probably still aimlessly wandering the grounds of your villa, waiting for an explanation.
Nodding your head with finality, this was your chance to finish on a high. You were already out the front door, sneakers angrily scraping the gravelled pathway, when Harry swung himself around the door frame- holding onto it the way you would wish farewell by hanging from the side of a moving train- projecting unnecessarily, and sending you home with some wise food-for-thought,
“It would take a miracle to make me regret spending time with you, Y/n.”
---
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Lord have mercy, I am so nervous and hope you guys like this! This series is near-and-dear to my heart, living in my head rent free for the past few years lol. Anyhow, thank you for reading! I know my updates are less-than punctual, but I really do appreciate all the love and support 🥺 -Emmy. xo 💞
#oof#only 6 months late#it's 2am I'll fix this and reply to everyone tomorrow#harry styles fic#grapejuice fic#harry styles x reader#harry styles one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry x reader#elioslover#harry styles imagine#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles x you#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles concept#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagines#harry styles fic rec#harry styles writing#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fake scenario#harry styles x reader smut#harry styles x oc#harry styles x blurb#harry styles angst#harry styles love on tour
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