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fic-dumpster · 6 months ago

Note

OMG imagine this all of bonten doing the slim pickings trend if you don’t know what that is it’s basically a guy lifting a girl (normally that’s I’ll I’ve seen of this trend sorry!)

On this shoulder and flexing that basically that they can carry their girl on their shoulder 😭😩🤤

Anyways I just imagine ❤️ Kakucho ❤️ lifting us then like all of bonten wants to prove they can do it too 🫡 ugh it hurts to even think about 😖

anyways just random thought sorry it’s so long I think I had a heart attack when I thought of this

have a good day/night pookie 💋😘🙈

Anonie, idk if I got you but I’ll see what Bonten does. LET ME TELL YOU THAT I SUFFERED /J. AHSJSKS I DONT KNOW TIKTOK JAHSKSQ IM SORRY Gosh… I can’t write serious or wholesome stuff 🤧 it’s always me and my broken sense of humor.

Slim Pickings || Bonten x Reader 1.9k+ words

cw: body image, TikTok trend, nonsense, cringe… like hundred percent logging off-phone throwing-gagging worthy cringe. constant state of chaos. not edited.

“What are you two doing?” The question came from Takeomi who just stepped into your living room to see Kakucho with you sitting on his shoulder, parading you around as both laughed and smiled.

“A TikTok trend,” you answered casually.

But before Takeomi could ask more questions, the rest of Bonten began to pop into the room.

“it’s rude to stand in the entrance,” Sanzu intentionally bumped shoulders with Takeomi. Which only gained him a tired sigh from the older man.

“We heard music!” Rindou pointed out, casually strolling in.

“And your laughter,” Ran added, walking behind him brother.

After Bonten’s three menaces made their way in, silently Mikey accompanied by Kokonoi and Mochi decided to join the crowd. The shorter man curiously peeked at your form perched on his number three..

Questions began to rain on you once they saw your phone propped up on the table with more than one video of Kakucho lifting you.

“So you just lift me and place me on your shoulders,” you explained in detail to the group of men staring at your phone screen. “Yeah, like that. See?”

“We do that on a daily basis,” pointed out Ran, not really getting where this was going.

“Yeah, we see Rindou flexing his biceps at least four times a day.” Added Sanzu, snickering with his phone out scrolling through some other videos and seeing a bunch of guys just showing off.

“This shit’s easy,” huffed Rindou, ignoring the previous comment but at the same time watching Sanzu’s screen over his shoulder.

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” You rolled your eyes at the lack of initiative on their part. Although, you could guess jealousy had a part in that. They seemed bitter that your attention was solely on Kakucho.

You couldn’t have been more wrong with your statement. Bonten was not made for TikTok fame… but you didn’t know it at that time.

─────── · · ·

To see who went first they decided to draw straws… online…

You stood with Kakucho there waiting until everyone got their phones out and went to the page Rindou had shared. Lifting an eyebrow, you saw they had taken this more seriously than you had expected. Oh, yeah… they had banned Kakucho from this round.

Then you heard a groan and a bunch of hyenas laughing. First one to go? it was Kokono… and things didn’t go as planned.

“Okay, ready?” You asked a bit worried since he didn’t seem too eager to be on camera.

“Why do I have to go first?” Koko’s voice cracked a bit at the end, “you’re not posting this, right?”

A bunch of boos from the public followed Koko’s question, and by the public you mean Rindou, Ran and Sanzu. You tried to reassure him it would be alright but the damage to his pride was already done.

Once Koko’s hands were on your hips something in your gut told you that doom was imminent. He had lifted you with ease but as soon as your butt hit his shoulder, the man let out a loud whine. Somehow—someway, your zipper had gotten stuck on his silver hair. Thus, pulling it as he moved you.

“Ah! My hair! My hair!!” Koko’s desperate screams just got most of the group cracking up.

“Oh shut— ack!” You tried to stay as calm as possible, “I’m sorry!” Your eyes turned to the snickering bunch. “It’s not funny!” You held onto Koko’s head for dear life as Rindou and Sanzu avoided your gaze. The latter turned around to keep chuckling.

With his second sigh of the day, Takeomi walked towards you two, pulling Kakucho along.

“How is that this always happens to you two,” Takeomi said, trying to untangle your zipper from Koko’s hair as Kakucho steadied you on the silver-haired man’s shoulder.

After all was done, Kokonoi sat begrudgingly on the furthest sofa with a side of his long silver hair tangled in a thick mass. You smiled apologetically at him.

─────── · · ·

With a triumphant look, Rindou stood ready.

He was feeling confident after Kokonoi’s failure, but he might have gone a bit too hard… the moment he lifted you off the floor, you went flying towards the hanging lights. Thus, hitting you in the back of your head.

Everyone panicked meanwhile Mochi went for an ice pack.

It was chaos, as always—Kakucho to the rescue, he snatched you straight away from Rindou’s shoulder just in time to see Sanzu tackling the youngest Haitani. Then Ran and Takeomi began to scold the pair scuffling on the floor.

Even Mikey joined in, silently hitting Rindou in the same spot that the lamp had smacked you. Bonten’s leader walked away and kept mumbling words about how careless one could be. “An eye for an eye, Haitani.”

Just then, Mochi had walked back in to the room with an ice pack, but seeing the current situation he handed Takeomi the ice pack and went back to get a couple more.

─────── · · ·

After a prolonged discussion about safety, you suggested continuing outside which would have been fine if two people hadn’t begged you for a favor.

Ran was already smirking at you, ready to hoist you up and show the two previous failures how it was done.

And he did just that. At the count of three, you were already sitting on Ran’s shoulder. His grip was unwavering and the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster.

“Why do you always make it weird…” you mumbled once you saw Rindou visibly upset at his loss in this match.

“It’s not, though.” Ran pretended to flick a lint off his shirt, looking straight at the camera now.

It’s then that you remember the words from a certain pair—a pink and a silver head already signaling for you to take action. To keep the peace, both Haitani had to fail… miserably…

So with a deep breath, you loudly shouted something you knew Ran wouldn’t ignore. “Is that a bald spot?!” You even put a finger on his scalp to emphasize.

It happened so fast. One second you were in the air and the next you had been set down on the grass and the oldest Haitani went running to the nearest bathroom, Rindou not far behind. Not a words came out of anyone’s mouth. Meanwhile Sanzu and Koko gave you a thumbs up.

The peace had been kept. Your TikTok project began to feel more complicated than you thought it would be.

─────── · · ·

Nobody was worried about Mikey, they all knew he could easily pick you up, but Mother Nature had other plans.

“Stop laughing,” you grumbled, “it’s not that funny.”

“I’m sorry, sweetcheeks… it is…” Sanzu wheezed almost out of breath from laughing the whole day. “Mikey went straight for your pussy!”

Yes, when it was Mikey’s turn he had almost dropped you because a bee flew to his face and to his credit, he did catch you just as quick but the death-like grip went to your crotch. Which had you squealing and the clowns around you couldn’t stop laughing since then. Even Mochi and Takeomi had chuckled at the whole show.

“Haru, shut up!” You hissed, “Look! He’s sulking already!” At the sight of a brooding Mikey, everyone just went quiet. That sobered Snazu up real quick.

The Haitani brothers had just come back outside, but seeing the grey clouds on everyone’s heads they decided to slowly and carefully go back inside.

With Mikey not being in the mood anymore, the TikTok filming had to stop. Mochi and Sanzu were sad to not get a chance to try.

“Another day,” you weakly replied.

Takeomi felt a sense of relief. He wasn’t sure his back would agree today. He had lifted you before, but it was a gamble and with how everyone’s luck had been today? He didn’t wanna risk it.

─────── · · ·

Later that day, everyone was just sitting around the living room, back to where it all began. It was as normal as it could possibly get.

Most of them were on their phones, although you suspected some of them had the early videos on repeat. Sanzu and kept showing Mochi something and both just kept chuckling. Kokonoi kept checking something about the stock market and grumbling at his screen, angrily typing nonstop. Takeomi was doing the newspaper crossword puzzle and kept asking Ran some of the modern-day stuff he didn’t get. Kakucho had been in the kitchen for a while, and finally, Rindou and Mikey playing thumb fights.

Normalcy… how unusual.

“It’s actually nice… you know?” You interrupted the abnormal calmness surrounding you. “I’m in no way a flimsy thing and you all always move me around like I weigh nothing,” you voiced out your thoughts. You were laying on the couch, just thinking, truth spilling without meaning to, but alas it was out.

“The hell you mean?” Sanzu instantly snapped, throwing his phone to Mochizuki who barely had time to catch it. Bonten’s number two walked up to your resting spot and climbed on top of you. “I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean.”

“Haru…” Your wide eyes stared up at Sanzu, pink hair falling like curtains around your face.

His visceral reaction was like the spark that ignited the rest. Soon you heard the scraping sound of chairs being pulled. The lonely couch was now crowded with a bunch of angry men.

“Move,” Rindou growled as he pulled Sanzu away from you, almost throwing him off the couch. “What do you mean by that?” Now it was the youngest Haitani staring down at you with furrowed brows, and questioning your early statement. “Earlier? I almost sent you to a different fucking orbit.”

They all in their own way tried to make you understand—see what they see.

“Even Koko here can pick you up!” Ran added.

“Yeah,” Koko agreed but then realized the implications, “wait what are you trying to say?!”

Ah, this was more…normal… you giggled at the chaos that erupted around you. From the kitchen walked out Kakucho with a fresh baked bowl of cookies. Mikey didn’t have to be told twice, from the smell alone he knew what it was and took some for himself.

“Heard the commotion,” Kakucho sat next to your head on the couch, “how many times do we have to tell you that’s not important? You see us complain? No, right?” he didn’t let you answer as a cookie was already stuffed in your mouth.

“You have to see us fight to get even a second longer with you. That should tell you how much we want you,” Takeomi noted, pointing towards the Haitanis going against Sanzu and Koko a couple of feet away.

“This is why social media is hazardous,” Mochi announced, holding a cookie between his fingers.

“Body imag—” began Takeomi but he was cut short.

“It’s nothing. You’re just old.” Sanzu rebuked, interrupting his older brother just to spite him. forgotten was Rinodu who went to back up Ran.

The Akashi brothers continued on their intense debate, Mochi adding his opinion here and there as Kakucho kept feeding you and Mikey cookies.

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sophiethewitch1 · 1 year ago

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.

“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.

Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.

It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.

“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.

You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.

You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”

Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.

“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.

“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.

You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.

If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.

He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.

“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”

He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.

“Can you take me to my room?”

He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.

“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.

His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.

“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.

A break. You want a break.

The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.

Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.

Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.

“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.

“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost laugh.

“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.

You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.

Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.

‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.

While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.

This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.

Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.

Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?

Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.

You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.

“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.

“…What?”

“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.

“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-

Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.

You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.

And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.

…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.

Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.

You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.

Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.

The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.

You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?

You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.

The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.

This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.

Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.

There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.

This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.

The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.

Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.

Of all fucking… George.

You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.

Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.

He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.

You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.

‘You’: Why are you contacting me?

‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.

Stupidly, you reply:

‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’

You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.

No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.

You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.

You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.

You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.

You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.

‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?

Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.

You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.

“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”

There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.

Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.

And you can’t find your voice.

It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.

Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.

You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.

Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.

George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.

…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.

“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.

“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.

The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.

You included.

Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.

George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.

“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.

You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.

“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.

You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.

…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.

He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.

And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.

George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.

Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?

Well, of course, it started biting.

George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-

You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.

“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”

“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.

He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”

“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.

You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.

He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.

“I bought it. That’s mine.”

“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.

This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.

“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.

“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.

“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.

Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.

You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.

The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.

What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.

But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.

So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.

You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?

…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.

The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.

You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.

‘You’: I miss them.

‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.

You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.

You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.

And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.

What you settle on is simple.

‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.

‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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flowersforbucky · 10 months ago

Text

straight to my head

logan howlett x reader (x1/x2 era logan)

word count: 1.8k

author's note: this is my first time writing for logan and i absolutely loved it. i hope i can write more for this character soon!

warnings: basically just S M U T with very little plot. language. reader is described as being smaller than logan. no use of y/n.

“I can’t decide if you truly have no idea how fuckin’ crazy you drive me,” he growls lowly into your ear from where he stands directly behind you. The defined muscles of his chest graze against your back, his hands planted firmly on either side of your hips - keeping you pinned between him and the kitchen countertop of the rundown cabin in the middle of the Vermont mountains.

“Or if you know exactly how fuckin’ crazy you drive me and get off on it.”

He removes his hand from your right hip, bringing it to sweep your hair away from your neck, baring the side of your throat to him. You can feel his warm breath on the exposed skin of your neck. You use both hands to hold onto the edge of the counter - his unique scent of pine and old cigar smoke envelops you and makes the room spin around the two of you.

“So which is it, darlin’?” He leans forward, closing what little distance is left between your bodies. You can't stop the gasp that breaks through your lips when you feel it - the unmistakable, evident bulge pressing against your ass - undeniable even through the thick material of his jeans. You wear only a thin, cotton t-shirt and your underwear but it suddenly feels like too much. Too much fabric separating you from him. “Use your words and tell me.”

With the same hand that he used to move your hair just a moment ago, he places his fingers just beneath your chin and tilts your head upwards - forcing you to angle your head back enough to look up at him. “Is this the reaction that you’ve been trying to get out of me?” The faint smell of spearmint and tobacco on his breath washes over your face and it takes all of the limited restraint you possess to not lift yourself up on the tips of your toes and meld your lips against his.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan,” you hum, arching your back so that your ass juts against his erection. His hold on your face tightens, squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips form a perfect pout. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d do, does it?” you bait him, staring up at him doe-eyed through your lashes.

“Like hell it doesn’t.”

He drops his hand from your face, spinning you around before you can process what is happening. He lifts you up by the backs of your legs, his calloused fingers digging into the meat of your thighs before he plops you down on the edge of the wooden counter.

He kneels on the rickety floor in front of you, nudging your legs apart with his head. He places a hand on each of your calves as he begins trailing wet, open-mouth kisses up the interior of your thighs, alternating legs until he reaches the apex of your thighs. He has yet to touch you where you want him the most and you can feel that you’ve already soaked your panties - wetness pooling all around your center. He nips at the tender flesh of your innermost thighs, one of your hands instinctively lacing through his hair to keep him in place.

“I think you know the exact effect you have on me,” he coos in a strained voice from below you, hooking his index finger through the front of your panties and pulling the fabric to the side so that you’re fully exposed to him. “Luckily for me, I’m thinking I have a similar effect on you.” His breath fans across your pussy, causing you to rock forward towards his face. Right now, you truly believe that you need his mouth on you worse than you need air to breathe.

“Logan, please,” you whine, not caring how pathetic you might sound thanks to the literal ache in your core.

“Since you asked so sweetly.”

He doesn't make you beg again - his tongue licks a thick strip up your center, causing your thighs to clench around his head. He starts gently, moving his tongue through your folds at an agonizingly slow speed before his lips suction around your clit, sucking you into his mouth.

“Too goddamn sweet,” he pulls back long enough to murmur against your pussy before diving back in with newfound vigor.

You buck against his mouth when his tongue teases your entrance, drawing a guttural moan from the depths on his chest that vibrates through your core.

You should have known that he would be a tease - just as you begin to feel a coil tightening in the pit of your lower belly, he pulls back. You whimper at the loss of contact, staring down at him as he looks up at you with a devilish smirk.

“What? You can tease me for months on end but can't take what you dish out?” He swipes the back of his hand over the lower half of his face, cleaning the excess of your juices that glisten in his beard.

“I don't think this is exactly the same as–”

You're interrupted by the surprise of him standing and maneuvering you into his arms in a split second. He holds you to his chest, your legs locked around his waist as he carries you through the small kitchen and down the hallway to the cabin's singular bedroom.

He kicks the door closed behind him with his foot before arriving at the bed in two large strides. He places you near the headboard and then yanks his t-shirt over his head.

You don't know how many times you have seen Logan shirtless at this point - and he's gorgeous every single time. But the fact that he's undressing for you to look at and to touch is a new kind of excitement.

Before he can finish removing his belt, you tug him down to you by the dog tags that hang around his neck. You meet him halfway, crashing your lips to his. He moans into the kiss right away - fuck, why has it taken the two of you so long to have your lips on each other?

You part your mouth for him, his tongue slipping inside. He doesn't break the kiss as he finishes removing his jeans - he only pulls away from you long enough for him to pull your own shirt over your head, which he tosses to some corner of the room. You're both left in only your underwear when his lips are back on yours, guiding you until your back is flat against the bed.

The comforter is scratchy, the whole place smells like mothballs, and there's an awful draft - but goddamn, it's all as incredible as you imagined it being.

He hovers above you, caging you to the mattress as he holds his body weight up with one arm. His free hand trails up your stomach and to your breast, which he squeezes in his large hand.

“I'm not even inside you yet and you feel goddamn perfect.”

You roll your hips against his from your position beneath him - his large bulge still contained by his boxers. The small amount of friction does very little to ease your want.

He shoves his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing forward and slapping against his lower belly. He's shimmying you out of your underwear next, tossing them over his shoulder.

Finally, with nothing separating you, he nestles himself between your legs. He takes himself in his hand, nudging the tip of his cock through your folds.

Still fucking teasing you.

You take matters into your own hands - sinking yourself down onto him when he’s just over your entrance. His eyes squint shut with a sharp inhale of breath at the sudden sensation. He’s only halfway in and already stretching you so painfully sweet.

“Impatient girl,” he tsks, shaking his head down at you. He sheaths the rest of his length inside you, giving you no more time to adjust to the size of him. You gasp out loud, your eyes rolling back into your head. He curses under his breath - it sounds more like a growl.

He pulls out about halfway and then rocks back into you, working up to a steady pace.

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth back to yours.

You think you could get off on just kissing him.

The rickety bed creaks beneath you as he picks up speed, hitting your cervix at the sweetest angle over and over -

You secure your legs around his waist, wanting him as deep inside you as he can get.

“You know I'm gonna come inside you if you do that, yeah?” He grunts in your ear after he breaks away from your lips.

You snake your arms around his back, trailing your fingers from his shoulder blades down to his ass. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, bub,” you throw in his nickname for you for good measure as you dig your nails into his flesh.

He laughs - a deep, full belly-laugh - and flips you over so that you’re now belly down on the mattress. His hands hook around your hips and he pulls you towards him, raising your ass in the air. He’s back inside you before you can steady yourself on the mattress.

This fucking angle. You didn’t know it was possible for someone to fill you so completely.

“If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll give you.”

The sound of his flesh slapping against yours echoes through the small, mostly empty cabin. His strokes grow messier at the sound of you moaning his name into the pillow. He brings a hand around your waist, rubbing quick circles over your clit.

As if you weren’t already seconds away from coming.

Your walls clench around him and that glowing warmth builds in your belly. You come with a raspy cry of his name. Something snaps in him at the sound - the sound of his name coming from you as he brings you to your climax.

Warm spurts of liquid fill you up before he stills inside you, panting. You go limp beneath him, your legs quivering too much to continue to support you. You pull yourself off of him as you fall onto the mattress, turning over onto your back.

The sight in front of you is one you could get used to. Logan, with sweat-slicked skin and staring down at you like he was already thinking about having his way with you again.

“To answer your question from earlier,” you begin, still out of breath. You grab him by the dog tags once again, tugging him down to you until his face is a mere inch from yours. “I did not know how crazy I drive you. But now that I do, I think I will get off on it.”

♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett oneshot

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lustlovehart · 8 months ago

Text

Hard Stoned Gallery Dance

A/n: This was made like monthhsss ago, so I’m posting it as forgiveness for the lack of work i’ve been doing.

Pairing: [ Monster!Twst ] Malleus Draconia x Reader

Summary: Dancing is a beautiful past time, yet such a pretty act is ruined, when Malleus decides to let his affections for you run rampant. (Wc: 1.9k)

Warnings: Kissing & Licking, Murder/Death of Minor Characters (Not explicit), Possessive traits, Clinginess bordering obsession, a little blood, Biting/Marking

Your head leans itself on the rough surface of the stone wall. You’ve finished your objective for the day, so giving yourself this break is well deserved, ten minutes free of Crowley’s nagging is still freedom despite how it sounds. Your eyes can’t help but look up at the pretty blue sky, it stings to look at but you don’t mind the pain, seeing something so clear is worth it.

That cloud looks like a cat.

…

The taste of indulgence is quickly stripped out your grasp when the familiar sound of dragging stone resonates through the air, grating to your ears.

“Child of hunters, what may you be doing here?” His rock-hard face interrupts your view of the sky, green solid eyes look down on you as he casts a shadow on your visage.

Despite his body being made of pure stone, his eyes give a faint green glow, as if a bioluminescent moss grew there. His hair, his wings, and even his tail freely flowed as if he were just a regular Dragon hybrid. But alas, he is some sort of statue— Oh no not a statue, in his words a gargoyle.

You forgot about the difference one time and in turn, he gave you a 3-hour lecture on the difference between a grotesque and other gargoyles. Never again…

“I’m trying to hide from my boss.”

“Shall I be rid of him for you?” His mouth forms a little o as a small puff of a green flame releases from him.

“That would be a bad idea, I’d lose my source of income.” He quirks an eyebrow up at this., to be fair, you don’t think he has any clue what a “payday” is.

Despite his confusion, he lifts from his bowing form, a hand reaching out towards you in all its mossy glory. You’ve known him long enough to know what he wants.

A dance.

You don’t try to hide your exasperation as you take his invitation, albeit a bit slow. His stone body quickly pulls you up and into him. With how much tamer his form is compared to other beasts you know, it’s hard to remember that he’s part dragon, and even worse is part of the only few monsters who know magic.

So as of right now, this marks your third time dancing with one of the worst monstrosities currently on the bounty list. No maybe not one of the worst… From what you remember from Crowley’s ramblings (which isn’t much since you tune him out when possible) he’s probably the most dangerous.

You get the basic idea, but you’ve never truly seen for yourself why he’s considered so terrible. Is he not just a glorified water spout? Compared to a Kraken and an Incubus, surely his damage isn’t so grand to be warranted as the biggest beast to hunt.

“You’ll always be welcomed in my castle, you would not be short of accommodations either.” his hand rests upon your waist, pulling you closer than need be. His invasion of personal space is akin to a parasite leeching off its host, but you let him feed of you. Whether it’s from fear or a bond, you’re not decided.

Your movements are sluggish at best, but you can still remember the basic steps in the dance, your foot sloppily setting itself down where it should be, the occasional step on stone happening once or twice though.

“Considering the current state it’s in… is that even safe for me to walk in…? It looks like one good shout and the bricks holding the place together will crumble apart…”

“That is just the disguise we give it, as to not alert others of our presence. For you though, I’m willing to make it stand out if it makes you happy.” The hand lying on your waist retracts itself as he takes his other clawed limb and twirls you around, falling back into position when the spin is done.

“… I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes.” You know he’s not lying about that. You can distantly recall when a certain mystery monster had told you the tale of a longing dragon who perched himself at the opening of his window to wait for a certain hunter's return.

“Yes, he was so determined to be the first one to greet you, why he even stayed sat at the window for 5 months. It was quite endearing hehe.”

“Doesn’t it take hundreds of years for you to erode? Maybe it’ll take me 50 years to decide, by then I’ll be old and grey and you’ll be perfectly fine.” You take a step forward before the gargoyle's grip on your body tightens significantly, shrieking when he suddenly dips you down unprepared.

His freed hand takes your other arm and lifts it up to rest on his shoulder. Green sparkles are faintly flying around his lips as he slowly leans into the soft skin on your arm. His face leans in and presses chaste kisses on your limb, the gentle texture of his mouth catching you off guard as it tickles your body. Now you get it, he must’ve cast a spell to temporarily soften his lips.

He had attempted to kiss you once without taking this precaution, in turn, you gave him a face filled with discomfort at the stone texture that kept peppering you.

You can still remember the hurt face he had on when he saw your dislike towards his affections.

On his ninth kiss, his forked tongue peeks out from his mouth, licking a stripe up your skin. He finally lifts you up after the assault on your arm, his face only a few inches away from your own. It would’ve been quite the romantic atmosphere, had your nose not catch a sharp smell, and a horrible wretched one at that.

“You could be on your last breath and I’d still wait for an answer. But I hope that won’t happen.”

“Who knows, I work a dangerous job.” what is it?

The both of you twirl in unison despite the lack of music, your bodies in tandem as they move to just the sound of your surroundings. Though, your body is a little more sluggish than his own.

That stench… Is too familiar.

Eventually, your last steps fade out as you stop in your tracks.

“Is something wrong dear hunter?” Your grip on his shoulder fastens, if he was human you’re sure you would’ve broken his shoulder.

“What did you do?”

A smile is lit on his lips, his head tilting to the side, giving you such an innocent look, like he did nothing wrong.

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“The smell… Iron… This whole time I thought it was just the smell of the forest. But…” You swiftly pull a dagger out from your side, throwing it past his shoulder, the tip of the steel piercing into what sounded like wood.

He doesn’t turn back, only continuing to smile at you, as if you’re the only existing thing here, or more accurately, the only thing he cares about.

The bark of the trunk splits in half, falling to the ground, revealing the source of the stench. The top of the tree isn’t green, it’s red and brown.

4 pairs of hands stick from the leaves.

“You… What did you do Malleus–?!“ he’s quick to twirl you again, his grip on you tighter than it’s ever been. Despite your protests, he continues dancing as if you hadn’t seen anything.

You’re suddenly stricken with the memory of your first meeting with the beast, blood coating his mouth when he looked at you, pure admiration when he had finally met the muse everyone spoke so dearly of.

“Malleus, you—!“

“Tell me, dear human, was it not you who spared me?” He dips you down. “Was it not you who saw a beaten beast and allowed him to live?” He lifts you up. “Even as you walked away with a piece of stone you let go of one who’s rendered thousands over the years,” he pulls you in. “Dead” every action with your body is harsh, but not enough to hurt you, never enough to hurt you.

Because why would he ever wish to harm you?

He’d much rather smother you in affection, even when you’re exerting all your energy to kill him as he hugs you.

“It’s because you…”

“Looked so human?” He continues to keep you close, impossibly so, your skin melting into his, not from fawness, but fear.

“How did you know-“

“You’ve spared so many of us because we made you feel something in the moment,” he must be referring to everyone else… The look you gave him is dazed, caught up in the thought of every other monster you let get away. His fingers cage your chin in between them. “But don’t forget what we are.” Sparkles fly, temporarily blinding you.

When you open your vision, you’re greeted by the sight of Malleus, with the appearance of what he looked like if he was human, or at least similar to a human.

His skin isn’t rough and solid, his breaths are warm, and his hair is soft and pretty rather than a soft moss.

His eyes are a nice green, a pretty green. A color you would’ve enjoyed more had he been a human. Such a lively color shouldn’t be backdropped by crimson, yet, it is.

Behind him, several other trees collapse on themself, revealing the other tops, the same as the tree you had just seen. Views of stray limbs and vaguely familiar faces of hunters invade your mind, panic setting as you finally realize a question you should’ve asked long ago…

Why was Malleus so far from his castle?

Before you can react, your ears hear a faint whisper, eyes going heavy as little pings of thorns claw at your shoes. The last thing you see and feel, is his face leaning towards you, his finger loosening itself from your chin.

In a blink of an eye, he’s no longer the human you spared, but the monster you let escape back into the wild.

The fiendish of smiles is graced on his lips. Not because of evil, but because his smile, is so love stricken.

All because of you.

“Seems the little birdy fled the nest without permission.” Your eyes slowly flutter open, the familiar figure of a man bowing on top of you. “Now, I’ll forgive you as we weren’t expecting such a beast to appear-“

He’s immediately cut off in his sentence when a searing pain cuts through his chin.

“Augh—! How could you kick me after I spent precious time searching for you!“

“You’re the reason I’m here in the first place…!“

“I didn’t do anything!“ Despite your annoyance towards Crowley and all he stands for in your life, you can’t deny if someone had seen this scene play out in front of them, they would assume you two to be a father and his bickering child.

You attempt to stand to your full height, faltering at the pings of pain in your ankle. You suck in a breath, looking down as you nurse hurt skin.

There are briar thorns wrapped around your leg, a single rose adorning the stems, and a gentle green hue that contrasts the pure black of the floral life.

“Oh my, what were you doing last night?”

“… Night?”

“You’ve been gone for 36 hours my birdie.”

You don’t feel any different… Save for the prickle of thorns and fresh bite on your arm.

… Fresh bite?

Despite the indent, it doesn’t hurt, it’s like, he left it there as a reminder of your failures, at least to you. It could very well be his way of staking his claim on your heart.

“It’s a shame you didn’t get him when you could’ve, with your connections, you could’ve spared us a huge loss today…” you’re cruelly reminded of the people that lay to waste hidden in the trees. “We should let today serve as a reminder of what you must do.”

Crowley doesn’t look happy at the sight of so many employees who failed their jobs, yet he doesn’t look grieved either.

You… Truly, you wish you weren’t so softhearted during your missions. Maybe then, this could’ve all been avoided.

A/n: Like I said, this piece was from so long a goo, so i’m so sorry if the plot isn’t to anyone liking, but if it is, i’m happy you enjoyed it!!

#monster!twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vesperwrites #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere malleus #yandere malleus draconia

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cheol-e-kat · 4 months ago

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• random slutty thoughts - seungcheol •

the professor one

seungcheol’s resting bitch face annoys you - in fact, it’s so bothersome it distracts you during meetings - it makes you wonder if he ever smiles

you start glancing at him whenever there’s a chance, even in the hallway like a weirdo

but nothing - he’s like a constantly annoyed statue

worse you almost start to appreciate his face, which is just a new irritation, especially when he starts invading your normal thoughts

you can be enjoying your evening, having a nice dinner, and suddenly you’re wondering if choi seungcheol is having a nice dinner too, is he maybe out laughing with friends, or is he sitting in a sterile white room eating protein bars and listening to classical music like some serial killer - it’s obnoxious the way he’s taken up residence in your brain

this was not what you had in mind, when you idly wondered why he never smiled

it’s when you’re at a conference that you happen to notice something like a grin form on his stupid, handsome face

but it was a split second, so you were sure that didn’t count

you were surprised though when he sat next to you at the bar after the group dinner - you glanced to see him perusing the drinks menu, you also noticed he had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt - you didn’t exactly hate seeing his muscular forearms

you decided it was best to focus on your drink though and to avoid any extra details about seungcheol

but no, no, no because he had to speak

“so what are you drinking anyway?”

you looked over, “me?”

he nodded, “i don’t know anyone else”

you glanced around, realizing you didn’t either

“oh um, some version of a paloma” - you wondered if you could be more basic - a margarita, that was possibly more basic

he nodded looking back at the menu, there was a unsurprising awkward pause until the bartender came back for seungcheol’s order - you were surprised when he ordered the paloma too

it was quiet again until he got his drink and seemed to slightly choke on his first sip, “oof what is this? it’s like drinking soap,” he whined

you watched him looking amazingly animated over the bad taste he had just encountered

“do you not drink often or something?”

“yes, but this is foul,” he whispered

you laughed, “then order something you know you like, you know beer or whatever,” you were just guessing

he shifted uncomfortably, “i drink other things too,” he sounded petulant

you grinned, “oh yeah, i just watched that fun little experiment,” you nodded, “it seemed to go really well”

you watched him blush, “i can drink this, no problem”

you nodded, “umhm, i bet”

he looked supremely annoyed, “yeah, okay, i choke this down, and then i get to pick the next drink”

you couldn’t help but laugh, “okay and what we go back and forth trying to gross one another out?”

he nodded, “i bet you can’t get past one real drink”

you purse your lips and offer your hand, “fine, you’re on - loser has to grade papers for the winner for a week”

he suddenly looked very interested, “only if it’s the intro classes where every response is a garbled nightmare”

you nod in agreement, certain you can win this, “terms accepted”

you shake hands on this devil’s bargain

and you wake up the next day, having no idea who won or lost - in fact the only thing you know is that your lying in bed, fully clothed, and seungcheol is wrapped around you like you’re his personal body pillow

you elbow him roughly, which only makes him press closer

you groan and try to pull free, but he is really holding on - you finally manage to work yourself free, breathing hard from the effort, only to have him pull you back to him

you wanted to scream until you felt the kiss just under your ear and the soft laugh from him, “why are you always fighting me?”

his husky voice caught you off guard, but you quickly snap back, “how am i fighting you?”

he sighed, “you refuse to let anyone in the department get remotely close to you, and every time i invite you to something, you blow me off”

you roll your eyes, “because i don’t like the department’s holiday party?”

he nuzzled closer, “yeah, and every other thing, like game night, which is actually fun”

you were quiet for a moment - you could feel his fingers tracing little designs against your skin

“i do always hope you might show up to be my charades partner because jeff is truly awful,” his breath was so warm against your skin

“jeff is kind of an idiot, though, maybe manage your expectations,” you murmur in fake annoyance

he hums in response, his hand wandering lower to your naked thigh

you can’t help yourself, “does jeff like cuddling after a bad night of charades too?”

he laughed to himself, “you’re hopeless”

he leaned up then, you thought he was going to leave or go to the bathroom, but instead he leans over you, gently caging you with his arms, “besides, jeff isn’t really my type” he whispers playfully

“umhm, so what is your type prof. choi?”

his expression is much softer than you think you can handle - he’s looking you over with his tender gaze

all things you’ve cataloged away about him swirl through your mind, like how gorgeous his eyelashes are, how pretty his skin is, how soft his lips look - and he’s so close, his slightly spicy cologne is really nice, you wonder why you had hated it before

it’s when his lips make contact that you hear you own soft moan, which seems to spur him on

you feel his hand on your thigh again, pushing up your skirt, you pull his hair and lick into him just as you feel his fingers brush the crotch of your panties

he’s almost too delicate when he fingers you, but you still feel an orgasm wash over you

you feel him lean up and watch as he unbuttons his shirt, without thinking you reach out and drag your nails lightly down his chest and abs, leaving slender pink lines

you glance up to see his smile, “cute, kitten”

you nod, “want to fuck your cute kitten?”

he nods slowly, licking his lips and unbuttoning his pants

you’re surprised to see his cock spring free, already half hard and only getting bigger

you lie back, opening your thighs wider - he watches you pull off your top and bra, he works his cock and groans softly when he sees you squeeze your own nipples

“play with me daddy” you coo, reaching down to push down your underwear and finger yourself sloppily

he nods, “yeah, kitten, get your pussy nice and wet for me”

you giggle when he pushes your hand away and picks up your legs, throwing them over his shoulders so your ass doesn’t even touch the bed

and when he plunges inside, you arch off the bed, feeling the intense way he’s stretching you

“perfect, kitten, taking me all the way the first time” he says sounding breathless himself

you’re panting and reaching for him, grabbing anything to help ground yourself

but then you feel him start moving, slowly at first and then he’s snapping his hips, you know you’re moaning from the intensity of it

you press lightly against his chest, “‘m so close,” you whimper

he groans, “i know kitten, i can feel you getting tighter,” he thrusts into you roughly, “you’re gonna come for me?”

you nod, breathless and grasping for the edge of the mattress, you’re moaning and whining, his cock is so good, you’re certain he’s fucking into your cervix at this point

you yelp and feel him pull out quickly, “oh kitten, fuck you really are perfect,” he whispers as you squirt for him, your juices gushing freely, your thighs shaking, he gives a soft smack to your pussy causing another spurt of cum, he smirks

and then he slides back in, his moan is so lewd - he only lasts a few more thrusts before he’s coming too

you find yourself lying on his chest, his cock still inside you - you aren’t sure what to do other than enjoy his warmth

at least the conference is over and you have a late flight, otherwise, you might be in a rush for him to pull out

if you want to be tagged, go [here] my [master list] if you want to read more

#svt x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol drabbles #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol smut #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x you #svt x you #svt oneshot #svt drabbles #svt smut #kat_drabbles

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cuteandhughesy · 3 months ago

Text

Put Your Hands On Me | Will Cuylle

summary: you have a crush on your client, and you’re pretty sure he likes you too. just when will thinks you can’t get any better, you decide to do something about the tension between you.

[word count] 4.5k

a/n: based off this request! I wasn’t familiar with mr. cuylle before getting a few requests for him, but reading this idea inspired me! so, here we are 😌

🎵 cold sweat by tinashe

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

will's teammates are always asking him why he does it to himself. their voices, always tinged with confusion and amusement, constantly pestering him about why he doesn't just use the gym at the rink, but instead goes to the one almost 30 minutes farther.

but they know why, even if will doesn't disclose his reasoning. it's because you're there. you who is also known as his personal trainer. will doesn't even need a trainer—the rangers provide well qualified ones at the rink if he actually wanted one. but they don't wear pastel coloured sets and smile all bright at him. will's so down bad for you that he'll mess up sets on purpose just so you'll come over and touch him in correction.

it's awful and embarrassing—especially when his teammates give him little teasing, knowing looks. it makes will feel like he's in trouble when he hasn't even done anything wrong.

he's just...into you. since when has that become a crime?

"arms up, will." your sweet yet firm tone has will blinking, affectively snapping himself out of his daydream. a daydream where he gets to drag you into the locker room and kiss you and rip your bright pink thighs down and—

you touch him, fingers wrapping around his biceps and adjusting him. suddenly, the dumbbell's clutched in his hands become unbearably heavy—and it's simply because you're close enough that he can smell vanilla perfume mixed with your sweat.

which, will didn't ever think sweat smell would turn him on, but here he is. "right sorry," he says between deep inhales of air, helping in assisting your correction by getting into proper form. you nod and mumble some kind of praise as will starts lifting again, taking a step back to give him space.

your eyes zone in on his arms, watching the way his muscles contract and veins pop under the weights. it's truly hard to focus on your job when will is around. you used to be a professional personal trainer, but ever since will cuylle waltzed into the gym—bright eyed and bushy tailed—professionalism went out the window.

so yeah, maybe you push him extra hard so that his sweat soaks his shirt and gives you a nice view at his defined abs. and okay, yeah, you definitely touch him more than you should—look at him more flirtatiously than any other client of yours. but you can't help it.

and the worse part is, you know will likes you. or at least he wants to fuck you—that much is obvious. you catch him staring at your ass and lips more than the weights in the gym, always blushing when you catch him. but like you said, your professionalism has flown out the window, and you fucking like it. you crave it—crave him.

but no matter how much will likes you, you can't get him to crack. you don't know how much more obvious flirting and longing looks it will take for him to see that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

you reach out again. starting at his elbows, you softly trail your fingers along his arm, following the natural line of muscles up his bicep. "you feel that stretch here?" your words are breathy and low, eyes flickering up to meet his.

will visibly swallows, his reps momentarily stilling. a bead of sweat trails off his jawline from his temple, tempting you as it lazily falls down his neck. you want to reach out and let your tongue swipe it away—nipping at the muscles and tendons in his neck until he has no choice but to rip off your clothes.

"I feel…something for sure." he mutters lowly. will fights off a sharp inhale when you squeeze his biceps. your smirk is only making his cock harden, and soon enough he'll be excusing himself for the bathroom in order to tuck his length into his waistband.

will clears his throat, desperate to stop the dirty thoughts from taking over his head and body. he begins moving again, fingers tightening on the bar—cursing himself when he thinks about them tightening in your hair.

"good—I want it to burn."

he almost wants to laugh. "oh it's definitely burning."

you can't tell if he's trying to save himself or if will is genuinely that clueless. you're practically flaunting your tits in his face today—wrapped tightly in a bubblegum pink sports bra that pushes the fleshiest part of your tits to the sky. you're practically spilling out in invitation.

you watch his eyes, ever so subtle, take a glance at your chest—like usual. you're sweating, just enough to make you look glowy, and will thinks he might collapse. he curses, so low that you barley hear it.

just when you think he’s about to break—take you in his arms and kiss you silly—will drops the weights to the ground, so sudden it makes you blink in surprise, the dumbbells echoing off the padded floor.

"you okay?" you question cautiously. a million things are running through your head as will rubs a hand through his messy, dirty blonde hair—messing up his strands even more. it gives him a rugged, sexy look that makes your clit throb pathetically.

have you read this situation wrong? maybe will doesn't like you and you've made him uncomfortable with what you think is obvious advances. or maybe he's hurt—strained a muscle. it has your trainer side kicking in, and you take a quick step forward.

but will takes a step back, like he can't stand too close to you. your heart pulls uncomfortably, and you have to fight back a frown. "no," he laughs breathlessly, looking away from his shoes and into your curious eyes. you look so soft and beautiful and it's only making him feel like shit.

he feels like such a sleeze. eyeing up his personal trainer while she's just trying to do her job. will clear his throat, "well, yes. i'm fine but i'm also not fine. not at all." the word vomit is building, and it doesn't help when you're just standing there—all pretty lips and perfect body—looking at him like you're waiting for him to break.

will continues, "i'm dying here, y/n. I can't focus on working out when you're here." immediately he closes his eyes, exhaling shakily at his own words. he sounds so fucking stupid.

but you? you're not phased by his admission. "why do you pay me?" you question softly, taking another step in his direction.

his brows furrow, "huh?"

"why. do. you. pay. me?" you repeat slower, the tips of your shoes hitting his. if will wasn't feeling hot before, he is now. your tits are practically brushing his sweat soaked shirt, and your scent is the only thing he can smell—not the rubber mats or sanitizer. just you.

you're waiting for his answer patiently—but there's a glimmer in your eyes that makes him think that you know. a heat wave of embarrassment flushed over him, "because you're my trainer." he tells you dumbly.

there's no one else in the gym to witness this moment, and a part of you thinks that's why you're so bold. you're sick of the cat and mouse game between you—it's been months. months upon months of yearning for his lips, and your nipples pinching anytime he gets close to you.

this time it's your brows that pull. "yeah, but why? do you guys not have PTs at the rink?"

he's so busted. will nods, clearing his throat while simultaneously trying to clear his head. will seriously needs to get a grip of himself before you kick him in the balls for being such a sleaze. "no, uh we do," will stutters.

he tries to look away, but you follow his gaze. not giving him the opportunity. "okay, so why don't you use them?" you push.

if you take one step closer you'll be able to feel his painfully hard bulge. will shuffles back, "because I like you more than them." the answer is pathetic, especially considering a minute ago he said he can't focus working out if you're in the same room.

but much to his shock you just smile. it's not a polite smile like you're about to kick him out of the gym, but rather a playful smile full of teasing and secrets. "you like me?” you naturally trail off, adding a jolt to will's heart with the suspense. "or my boobs?"

yeah, will is seriously going to need to move cities after this conversation. and of course you just had to bring up your boobs—the ones that have been staring at him since he showed up an hour ago. like clockwork you watch his panicked riddled eyes flicker down to your chest, and you can't help but smirk as he snaps out of it—finding your gaze once again.

"what? I like you." will stresses. he almost wants to reach out and shake you in reassurance—because above all, he does actually like you. he doesn't just want to hit it and quit it. he's never been that type of guy. but will doesn't touch you, because right now it's definitely not the time to make this situation any worse.

and will is so sure it's about to take a turn for the worse.

"it's okay, will," you shrug, taking your plump bottom lip between your teeth, "I know you check me out. you're not as subtle as you think you are."

he curses, "fuck. i'm sorry."

"you are?"

if will wasn't so ready to lick his wounds and retreat, he would've caught the suggestive tone to your words and the way you've pushed even closer—nipples poking through your sports bra and brushing his chest.

but because he's so fucking embarrassed and ashamed for liking you, will keeps going. "yeah and if you want to like fire me or something-I don't know if that's how it works, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, y/n. I can go." god, he even starts to step back, disconnecting his phone from the speakers—because you always let him play his music—as if he's getting ready to leave.

you grab his bicep, stopping him before he has a chance to hightail and run. "no, I'm not uncomfortable," you mumble, blinking up at him all slowly and syrupy, making wills body all but tighten.

he swallows, "you're not?" a million emotions flash through him; confusion, curiosity, doubt, excitement, hope, and fucking at the top of everything is arousal because apparently he's a teenage boy.

you shake your head slowly, "I like it."

your quiet admission shoots straight down to his dick. "oh shit," will breathes, "really?"

"mhm hmph," you hum lowly, fingers squeezing around the meat of his bicep. expect this time you're not holding back—you're not masking your touch with professionalism. you're simply just feeling him up.

will watches as your eyes trail over his figure, drinking up every ripple and hard surface below his clothes. his skin pebbles in goosebumps, letting out another shaky breath that draws your attention. "god, you're killing me."

that makes you laugh. not in a way that's condescending or like you actually find his statement funny—but in disbelief. "and you think i'm not dying here? god will—your biceps and the little groans you make and your fucking thighs and your smile." you lick onto your bottom lip, will tracking your tongue with his eyes shamelessly.

"i've been flirting with you for months," you admit quietly.

shock is an understatement in that moment. will thinks he must truly be clueless because he had no fucking idea. "wait, really?"

"yes," you grin.

he groans—feeling embarrassed for a whole new reason. because what do you mean you've been flirting with him while he's been actively trying to behave. the many nights he's been alone in bed, fisting his aching, wet cock alone....when it could've been you doing it instead.

this whole time will could've been kissing you and fucking your sweet pussy in and outside of the semi-private gym—and then taken you out for lunch and coffee afterwards like the gentleman he is.

will can’t even think about that or he’ll begin to spiral—analyzing every single thing you’ve said and interaction shared that should’ve made him realize.

"i'm such an idiot." he huffs. will finally allows himself to touch you, large hand settling at the base of your spine—thick fingers splayed across your dewy skin.

the sight of your grin and the way you lean into him—like you're craving his touch—has will following suit with his own smile pulling at his lips. the same lips you've dreamed about kissing and sucking on your clit.

"yeah," you shrug with a breathy laugh, "but you're cute, so it's okay."

your playful banter is cut short as will leans down, kissing you. you sigh pleasantly as will's mouth holds yours, lips sliding and moving in a sexy, panty dropping pace.

his fingers dip underneath the hem of your leggings—teasing you. you whine into his mouth, pushing higher up on your toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss. wordlessly asking him for more. more kissing, more touching, more everything.

your hands loop around his warm neck while will’s free hand slides down the back of your thigh, hooking at the pit of your knee and affectively bringing your leg up around his hip. the new angle feels almost pornographic, opening you up so that his very obvious bulge can smoothly rubs against your clothed slit.

will takes ahold of your bottom lip between his teeth before he pulls back, both of you panting and wound up. he smirks all sexy with your lip in his mouth before releasing it with a gentle plop.

"I don't think I can continue our session today," he whispers suggestively, gently maneuvering your leg so it’s back onto solid ground. you want to pout at the loss of friction between your legs, but the way will’s fingers dip further down the back of your tights have you faltering.

so close to touching. so close to scandalous—but not quite there yet. not quite touching.

"oh no," you breathe heavily, "why's that?" you ask even though you know damn well why.

will grins—the shy will cuylle you thought you knew is completely gone. disintegrated. now replaced by this sexy, confident will who touches you teasingly and kisses like a porn star. he leans down, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, "my dick is so fucking hard." then he gently kisses your ear and you just about die.

"well maybe I can help you out."

he pulls back to look at you, smirk only growing when he sees the eagerness swimming around your eyes. "oh yeah?"

"yeah." you moan.

will curses again, which makes you grin. he shoots a cautious look over his broad shoulder, but like before, there's nobody else in the gym. it is a semi-private gym, one that will books for two hour sessions twice a week with you. that stemmed from the idea of getting caught with a erection by another gym member.

private lessons it was.

so nobody will be here, at least not for another little bit. he honestly has no idea how much time has passed since he arrived—his concept of time has turned to mush since you starting batting your lashes at him and confessed your purposeful flirting.

will looks back at you, "don't want you to suck my dick though."

"no?" you frown, pussy fluttering at the thought of will’s dick in your mouth.

"no. I wanna fuck you instead."

you jaw drops, and will just grins like a cocky sex god. he takes ahold of your hand, dragging you both towards the change room. the space is open and smells like cleaning supplies, but not even the antiseptic scent can stop the arousal pooling low in your belly.

will guides you into one of the private stalls—one that you'd most likely see at your local high school. a creaky plastic door with a matching seat pushed against one of the white walls. he turns the metal lock, the click echoing in the empty room—and then he's on you again.

this kiss is more intense—quicker and dirtier. your hands are all over one another. neither of you can stay still, it's physically impossible. months upon months of suffering and longing has boiled to the surface, and you move quickly in order to not get burned.

will’s lips trail down your jaw, nipping at your skin and then soothing the sting with his warm tongue. your lips part, breathless and desperate moans flowing from your mouth freely. you've gone limp in his arms, completely surrendering yourself to will.

not that he minds obviously. his grip on you is firm, but not painful as his mouth finds your neck. he sucks and licks at your pulse point until your withering, hips bucking in search of friction.

"you smell so fucking good." will mumbles into your neck before promptly finding your mouth again, continuing the needy kiss. his kiss, although new, feels almost familiar. he’s still there...the sweet will you fell for when he walked into your gym months ago—beneath the surface. that much is evident in the way he’s kissing you now.

you lick onto his bottom lip teasingly. his muscles tense under your palms, breathing increasing as your tongues begin moving together. will's hand comes down to your ass, gripping the flesh firmly and drawing you closer.

"I need to feel you," you say against his spit slick lips.

"I know baby." the nickname turns your legs to jelly, and like he knew you were on the brink of buckling to the ground, will grabs your hips firmly, pushing you further back against the wall—holding you up between his hard chest and the cold plastic behind you.

will helps you strip off your bubblegum coloured tights, and he can only groan at the sight before him. because underneath your irresistible tights, you're completely bare. no underwear in sight, only your pretty pussy, glistening and dripping for him.

"where are your panties?" he questions you lowly, tongue licking up a tendon in your neck slowly, while he simultaneously slips his hand under your sports bra in favour of groping at your tit and pulling your nipple.

everything feels so heightening and overwhelming in the best way. you shudder, "didn't want want underwear lines."

will tuts his tongue against your skin, biting down on you briefly and making your breath hitch. "I think you just wanted me to fuck you. think you've been waiting so patiently. hoping i'd pull your pretty tights down and slide my cock into your sweet little pussy."

his dirty words almost make you choke on your own spit. you had no idea will was capable of such filthy words—it has your belly twisting and turning in anticipation, while your walls contract desperately. will's lips find your jaw again, and then the corner of your mouth. not quite kissing you but just dragging his lips along your skin. marking you.

"I thought you were shy." you say pathetically, hips withering and jolting as will's fingers dip down your belly. he's so close to where you want him. so close.

"that's before I knew you were so naughty," his thumb and forefinger spread your lips, opening up your glistening walls further. the cool air shocks your warmth, and your skin pebbles all over. just when you think you can’t get any more shocked, will’s fingers slide over your clit, teasing you.

his eyes bore into yours, "are you a naughty girl, y/n?"

"no," you whine. he slides down, the pads of his fingers prodding around your slippery entrance. a whispered plea leaves your lips. you're so ready and so beyond desperate for him—it feels impossible to breathe.

it makes will coo condescendingly—the struggle and desperation written all over your flustered face. "what are you then?"

you're practically pouting. "i'm a good girl."

"yeah?"

"mhm hmph."

his gaze turns pointed. will takes his hand away from your heat, making your frown deepen. the hand he previously had under your sports bra, teasing your diamond cutting hard peak, comes up and grips your chin, keeping your eyes on him—unwilling you to look away or tilt your head back.

will leans in, but he doesn't kiss you. "then be a good girl and turn around."

you don't need to be asked twice, turning on shaky legs. behind you, will quickly pulls his shirt off, adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothes on the tiled floor below you.

you're breathing frantically, pushing your hips back in search of him. will smiles at the sight, chest heaving as he pulls his aching cock out of his athletic shorts, freeing himself from the restraint. his cock is angry shade of rose, smacking against his pelvis with a thick slapping sound. will grips his length, pumping himself lazily, slicking himself with your sticky arousal coating his fingers.

the lewd sound has you moaning, casting a suggestive look over your shoulder. when you catch sight of his strong chest, flushed and sweaty, along with his throbbing cock and leaking tip....you're pretty sure you feel your pussy leak and drip onto the floor. which in hindsight should be embarrassing, but you’re too flustered to care. and fuck if will cares—if anything the sight has his dick twitching.

will grabs ahold of your ass, squeezing and lifting to spread you—opening up your already weeping entrance. "fuck baby, spread your legs wider for me," he slaps your ass gratefully when you listen, wobbly legs sliding open another inch or so—giving him more room, while will begins lining up his head with your hole. "a little wider—that's a good girl."

"will please, I-" you choke on your words as the fat tip of will's cock nudges at your opening. his length slips in slowly, teasing you until the last possible second.

you could cry.

"what were you saying, baby? will please..."

your walls clench around his sheathed cock like you can't decide if you want him to start moving or keep still. either way you think it's overwhelming. you feel so full of will’s cock that it feels impossible. impossible to breathe, to think, to speak.

thankfully, he's not actually looking for a reply. he's too fucking horny to wait any longer. will begins thrusting, shallow at first as if he's testing the limit—yours and his.

you're a moaning and sobbing mess, pressed against the stall wall pathetically—lips parted and wet as his cock slowly rocks into your entrance. "please."

your plea is all it takes for will to speed up. very quickly his thrusts become rhythmical, hips slapping against your ass feverishly. you cry loudly, frantically reaching for him—fingers locking around his wrist where he’s holding on to your hip.

your pussy is greedy, sucking and holding onto his length like it's never had anything better. and if you were to ask yourself—you haven't had anything better. will fucks you like he kisses you—sure and sexy and with little bit of sweetness. it's exactly what you've been craving. it's so fucking good.

"god," he curses lowly, "i'm not gunna last long inside your pretty pussy baby. so fucking tight and perfect."

like clockwork your walls flutter around him, which only urges him to fuck your harder. "keep going," you plead.

he had no intention of stopping. not now, not ever. you're better than he could've ever imagined. will's arm wrap around your middle, promptly pulling you off the wall and back to his chest—all while his cock continues attacking your pulsating, gummy walls.

your head falls back to his shoulder weakly, and it gives will the best view of your bouncing tits that have fallen up and out of your sports bra from the momentum of his thrusts—pebbled nipples and all. his slit begins leaking fluids just at the sight.

your glossed over eyes meet his, your lips parted helplessly as his hips rut into you. will leans down without even realizing what he's doing, kissing you once again. its barley a kiss—if anything it's more of brushing tongues and muffled moans. lips barley kissing over one another’s.

but it's enough to have you clenching around him. "i'm cumming, will." you whine, eyes rolling as the coil in your stomach ignites. your hand darts up, gripping tightly at the roots of his dirty blonde hair while your orgasm hits you at full force. the sob you let out sounds like fucking heaven, walls fluttering as your body goes limp.

will shudders, keeping you against his chest as his own release catches up to him. his thrusts turn rougher, pelvis smacking against your ass loudly while the head of his cock punches your overstimulated cervix.

"oh fuck," he moans, balls jumping as spurts of hot cum shoot from his cock, painting your sensitive walls. will rides out his orgasm with shallow and slow thrusts, making a mess of your fluids—smearing the combination over his pelvis and your inner thighs.

you whine, which makes will blink. his grip around your body loosens, but not enough to let you fall. which thank god, because you're not sure if you can stand right now. "you okay?" he asks you softly, breath hitting the side of your face as he studies you for a reaction.

"a little tired and fucked out," you trail off, and even though you literally look spent—mascara under your eyes and lips stained—there's a hint of amusement in your tone. "but i'm okay."

will smiles, kissing your cheek tenderly before sliding his dick out of your entrance. the squelching noise that comes with that action almost makes you want to go for another round, but your legs protest that idea as they start to shake.

"just stay still for a minute baby," he mumbles, grabbing his discarded shirt, "gunna clean you up." ever so softly, will begins wiping up the mess between your legs. he works with such softness and ease that you can't help but smile, leaning back against the stall wall for some much needed stability.

will kisses your inner thigh before helping you back into your tights—which, might as well get married now because you're ruined for every other man.

when he stands up to his full height, you can't help but touch his bare chest, not so subtly feeling him up. "what are you going to wear?" you're referring to his shirt, which is now covered in your mixed juices.

will shrugs casually, hands gripping at the fleshiest parts of your hips to squeeze reassuringly. "eh, not worried."

you quirk a brow, "maybe I don't want people looking at you all....sweaty and muscley."

"you jealous?" will teases, leaning down and letting his lips brush over your cheek. it tickles, but you welcome it, leaning into his mouth in search of a kiss.

"maybe...."

he laughs and then presses a lingering kiss to your lips, "don't worry baby, i'm yours."

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #will cuylle #will cuylle imagine #will cuylle smut #will cuylle x reader #will cuylle fic #will cuylle fanfic #will cuylle fanfiction #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #hockey smut #hockey x reader #hockey imagine #new york rangers imagine #new york rangers smut

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thebearer · 2 years ago

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follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust.

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust.

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.”

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-”

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.”

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.”

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him.

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.”

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.”

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good.

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.”

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.”

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office.

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully.

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-”

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?”

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!”

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant.

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.”

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open.

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least.

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.”

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.”

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned.

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush.

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly.

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-”

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently.

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered.

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted.

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.”

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat.

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him.

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded.

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright.

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.”

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert.

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left.

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen.

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed.

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock.

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?”

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered.

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.”

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?”

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.”

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil.

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.”

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven.

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.”

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?”

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment.

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie.

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.”

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.”

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room.

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded.

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.”

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in.

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!”

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please”

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good.

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!”

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him.

To: Carmen

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!”

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way.

So, Carmen did what he always did.

From: Carmen

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret.

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!”

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.”

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned.

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance.

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you.

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.”

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.”

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s.

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?”

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?”

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked.

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell.

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way.

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do.

“What? Cousin, what are you-”

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.”

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned.

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added.

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him.

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her.

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-”

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.”

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.”

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?”

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen.

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.”

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ttalgi · 4 months ago

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missent letters pt.2

wanderer x gn! reader

part 1 || part 2

tags/cw: academic rivals to lovers, some cursing, mc is: a Vahumana student in the Akademiya, roommates with Alhaitham and Kaveh, and a pyro vision holder.

a/n: I finally finished the book a year later (lol) which made me want to make a part 2! Also, please don't mind any ooc or wrong plot details...it's been a while since I've actually played genshin.

wc: 2.1k

“It would do your remaining few brain cells some good to stop banging your head against the table. Plus this table was expensive. I can’t have the wood scratched already.”

You stop mid head bang to send Alhaitham an incredulous look. “Please!” you plead. “Have some sympathy for me at least once in your life. My life is over.” You slump your body across the living room bench.

Without missing a beat, he replies, ”I let you live here, don’t I?” Alhaitham turns to Kaveh with a raised eyebrow, “Care to fill me in on their latest tantrum?”

“It’s not a tantrum—!”

“Long story short, they asked me to send out some envelopes for them because of their busy schedule, so I told them to leave whatever they needed sent on top of their desk. Among the envelopes was one for Hat Guy, which apparently they didn’t want me to deliver.” He takes another bite of the shawarma wrap that Alhaitham brought home for dinner.

Kaveh turns to look at your defeated form. “If you didn’t mean to send Hat Guy the letters, why were they mixed up with the other envelopes in the first place? What’s the big deal about those letters anyway?” he asks while chewing.

You perk up your head to look at him. “Huh? You didn’t read them?” you ask.

“You see, unlike some”—he sends Alhaitham a pointed look—”people, I have basic human decency.”

“Again, I let you guys live here—”

“Basically, everytime I feel anger or annoyance towards him, I just vent about it on paper pretending that he’s the recipient. Then I just stuff everything in the same envelope because it’s easy storage that way.”

“Wait!” Kaveh interrupts. “Just how many letters have you written about him? That envelope was like an inch thick. It even cost me extra postage!”

“...What can I say? I have lots of vendettas against him,” you shrug.

Alhaitham interposes, “I don’t think I understand. What’s the big deal? So what if you told him exactly how you feel about him? I didn’t take you for being a people pleaser.”

“This is why people think you’re such a machine at times, Alhaitham!” Kaveh throws his arms up in frustration. “Some people actually care about how they present themselves to others.”

“Actually!” You interject before another one of their infamous arguments breaks out full throttle. “Alhaitham’s kind of right. I did write exactly how I feel about him, and that’s the thing. I wrote everything that I felt about him..” you trail off.

Kaveh lets out a dramatic gasp. “No way! You finally confessed your feelings for him in those letters?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it confessing. I just talked about how I think his eyes are kinda dreamy despite being cold at times and that he has a really pretty face and that”—you almost give yourself whiplash turning in his direction—”Wait, finally? What do you mean finally? There’s no way you could have known about my minuscule crush on Hat Guy!”

“Anyone with eyes and ears could tell that you have some romantic attraction towards him,” Kaveh sighs while shaking his head before gesturing to Alhaitham. “Even this guy is aware of it.”

“You two do know that I’m not socially inept, correct?”

Deciding to ignore Alhaitham, you slump back against the bench. “I’m doomed.”

You pop up with an idea. “Wait! Do you guys think Tighnari needs any more forest rangers? I can take a break until this whole thing tides over and just help him over at Avidya Forest—”

Alhaitham quenched your wishful thinking. “Knowing how substandard you are with your vision, you’d accidentally set the forest on fire.”

You stumble back as if an arrow pierced through your body. You mumble out, “Must you always humble me.” You turn to Kaveh with hopeful eyes.

“I thought I'd never say this, but I agree with Alhaitham. You trying to help Tighnari in the forest would do more harm than good. Plus, you'd end up a victim to his lectures again. Remember that one time you—”

Feeling your body riddling with piercing wounds, you slump against the bench once more. “Yeah, I’m doomed.”

It's been five days since Kaveh accidentally sent out the envelope meant for Hat Guy and you aren’t sure how much longer you have until the letters would be in his possession. Unless they already were...

If you were blessed by the Archons, then maybe the envelope was lost or better yet damaged beyond repair in delivery, but alas, you know better. The mail system in Sumeru City is known for its attentiveness, especially since many important Akademiya-based deliveries are sent and received daily.

You haven't seen Hat Guy around much these days, especially considering the fact that you’ve been actively avoiding him. Mandatory lectures that you both share? You now sit close to the exit, far from him. The library that you guys are known to basically reside in? You begged Alhaitham to let you study in his office instead, promising that you’d do his portion of the house chores for the next two weeks.

Deciding to go home early out of your own volition (Alhaitham kicked you out because of an important meeting), you carefully tread the halls of the Akademiya making sure to peek around each corner before continuing. As you start to believe that you're finally in the clear, you hear someone behind you clearing their throat. Taking a look down at the shadows decorating the floor, you see the silhouette of the man that you have been avoiding for your own peace of mind.

"How much longer are you going to rat around the Akademiya for? It's not like you can avoid me forever, you know."

Feeling offended by his choice of words, you abruptly turn around to tell him off; however, the sudden close proximity of your faces has you taking a step back. If you hadn’t been paying attention to his face, you would have thought that he was unaffected by the action, but the slight widening of his eyes before returning back to normal has you knowing otherwise.

You give Hat Guy a pointed glare. Wanting to defend yourself against his statement, you open your mouth to retaliate but the sight of the familiar envelope in his hand causes you to simply shut your mouth and grimace instead.

As he notices your actions, Hat Guy lets an annoying smirk grace his face. "Come on, say what you were going to say. We both know that you have a lot to say to me," he says while lazily waving the envelope around.

To try and play this in your favor, you start to act nonchalant. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘avoiding you’. Also, what’s with the envelope? Never seen it before in my life.”

Hat Guy raises a brow. “What’s with this sudden stupid, chill guy persona? Anyways, it seems like you need a reminder. Not surprising considering our perspective rankings,” he subtly gloats.

“You little—”

”Let's see,”—he opens up the envelope and starts to smooth out the bottommost letter—”Maybe reading some of these letters will help jog your memory.” He makes a grand gesture of pretending to clear his throat before reading, and you can’t help but to cover your face with your hands to try and protect yourself from the upcoming embarrassing retelling.

“Again! Again, you received a higher score on an assigned research essay. It’s only been 2 months and 11 days since you’ve been enrolled into the Vahumana Darshan, so how is it that you’re the apparent “All-Knowing” about Time-Sensitive Commodities? Who do you think you are? The new Sumeru archon of wisdom? Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t be disrespecting our Lesser Lord Kusanali by comparing you to her—” he pauses and his eyes hurriedly shift to gauge your reaction. If anything, he should be thankful. If you hadn’t been so focused on not looking at him, you would have seen the crease in his brows mid-reading.

Hat Guy recomposes himself before continuing to read. “For Archon's sake. What’s more frustrating is your subtle boasting towards me. How could such a shitty personality even emit from a pretty face like yours? Though, I’ll begrudgingly admit that I actually look forward to these interactions that I have with you.”

“ST—!”

A coy smirk fills his face. “Oh? Why so embarrassed? Do you know these letters after all?”

“N-no…I was just clearing my throat.” At this point, you curse your pride for not being able to halt this interaction.

“Stubborn as always.”

This time he picks out a letter from the top of the stack..

“It's completely and utterly unfair how your resting face looks so serene. Why must you always be in the library at the same time as I? Your stupidly, bewitching face only serves as a major distraction, like how could I not stare! It's like your face was personally carved by a god. Also, how the hell do you make a simple fountain pen look so good? The way that your slender fingers grip the—”

“OK, that’s enough! Stop with the reciting! I admit it!” You feel your face heat up from embarrassment and your pyro vision only makes everything feel hotter. You raise your hands in frustration. “It was a whole mixup! Those letters weren’t even meant to be sent to you.” You dial back your volume towards the end.

He pointedly sighs. “Well that much I figured out. There’s no chance in Teyvat where you of all people would willingly subject themself to this. So, what are you going to do about it now?” he asks while crossing his arms.

It hurts to admit, but you felt stupid at this very second. “What do you mean?”

He tskd. “Do I need to explain every little thing to you? You’re ranked right below me, so I know that you’re not stupid. Are you going to own up to your letters and finally confess? Or are you going to just cowardly dismiss this like you’ve been doing?”

“CONFESS?” You almost give yourself whiplash from how fast you check to see if anyone’s heard you. You repeat yourself in a whispering tone. “Confess?”

“You talk about ‘looking forwards’ to our interactions, staring at my ‘bewitching face’ and ‘slender fingers’ and you think it’s absurd that I bring up confessing? Or would it be easier for you if I confess first?”

Without thinking you blurt out, “There’s no way that you actually like me back.”

“Do you ever see me bothering to interact with anyone as much as I do with you? I even surprised myself when I started to catch feelings for your stubborn self.”

You try to shake off the nerves before staring into his eyes. “Hat Guy, I like—”

“Wanderer.”

"What?"

"Call me Wanderer instead; it rolls off the tongue easier than Hat Guy. It’s a nickname that the traveler gave me. Hat Guy is a silly name that happened to stick around the Akademiya.”

“Lots of names you have there, huh?” you tease.

He lets out a sound that’s the mix between a chuckle and a scoff. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Well, Wanderer. I like you. So…will you go out with me?”

“Obviously.” (Your eye roll at his matter-of-fact tone is instinctual) “I wouldn’t waste my time with anybody else. Anyways, let’s get out of here. You were on your way home before I caught you, weren't you?”

Your lips start to raise into a smile. “You’re going to walk me home?”

“Noo, I’m saying this so I can just go off on my own—”

“Oh, shut it. Let’s get out of here.”

As the both of you guys stroll out of the Akademiya, your hand closest to Wanderer suddenly can’t stop twitching every so often. Your head fills with thought pertaining to your new found relationship.

‘Is it too early to be holding hands?…Maybe hand holding is too PDA for him on open streets—’

A cold hand suddenly embracing yours breaks you out of your stupor. You turn to Wanderer, clearly surprised by the action. Starting to feel embarrassed, you try to pry your hand out of his clutch, only for him to tighten his grip. “W-What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” He pivots his head to the opposite side, hoping that you won’t catch his ears turning slightly pink. “Your thoughts are so loud that even Mondstadt can hear them,” he scoffs. “Just lead the way.”

You start to walk with a slight pep in your step. “As you say!”

bonus scene?:

“Hey, can I give you a nickname too? Or is it too soon..”

He turns with a raised eyebrow. “Depends. What do you have in mind?”

“XxAssMaster69xX”

He lets out the biggest sigh. “Not you too.”

“Jokes, jokes—” you pause. “Wait, me too?”

He continues to walk forwards without you.

“Me too?! Hello???”

#ttalgi writes #genshin #genshin impact x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #genshin fluff

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harrywavycurly · 4 months ago

Text

Handle With Care: What Have You Heard?

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language, one tiny moment of anger/jealousy, mentions of how your ex treated you and so much fluff it might make you sick😂

A/N: I left this open to revisit these two weirdos because I have truly loved writing them. Thanks for allowing me to take a stab at frat Harry! This has been a very fun mini series and I’m glad y’all enjoyed it! I hope you’re happy with their ending✨

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @namoreno @coralferrio1 @stylesftcher @mema10 @cherryloveshs @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @triski73

Summary: Harry is determined to get you to like him while you are more worried about the fact he hasn’t kissed you yet✨📦

It’s only been a little over twenty four hours since you asked Harry to leave your apartment and it’s as if all of a sudden the universe doesn’t want you to have the chance to forget about him. You’ve seen him everywhere possible in the apartment complex the two of you live in, the first time was in the elevator which is understandable since you live two floors under him. You were bound to see him on his way down to the lobby or the gym, but you just weren’t expecting it to happen so soon and what you really weren’t expecting was for him to look so distraught when his eyes met yours. The look on his face was as if he wanted to reach out and touch you but he had to hold himself back resulting in an almost painful looking smile making you just look away and down at your feet as the two of you endured a silent ride down to the parking lot.

The second time you saw him was at the gym that same evening, and the embarrassing thing about this moment was the fact you weren’t even there to work out. You just finally had a chance to go take a look at it, figuring that maybe one day you’ll want to use it so it would be nice to be sorta familiar with the space and he just so happened to be there running on a treadmill that was facing the door. It was as if he could just sense you had entered the room because he looked up and immediately you felt a flush cover your face because he was extremely shirtless allowing you to see every inked inch of his torso including the butterfly on his stomach and then there were his arm, his very well defined arms. You know he saw you because his eyes lit up and a small smile formed on his face while you tried to figure out how to leave the space as quickly as possible without making it seem like he was the reason you were leaving in such a hurry.

Now it’s been a full two days and you have managed to run into him in the mailroom. You silently curse your amazon addiction because of course Harry is also down here getting his package since they got delivered by the same delivery person. But unlike the other times he’s seen you Harry decides that this time the two of you should talk because clearly the two of you aren’t going to be able to avoid each other as easily as you thought while living in the same complex.

“I’m sorry.” The moment the words leave his mouth you find yourself freezing in your spot by the shelf that has your box on it. “I shouldn’t have assumed some flowers and a box of plates was going to be enough get you to forgive me and want to ride off into the sunset together.” He lets out a sigh as he basically talks to your back since you don’t make any moves to turn around and look at him.

“I do forgive you Harry.” You tell him as you turn so you can face him, keeping your eyes on the floor. “It just doesn’t change how you acted and-and that’s why I’m not riding off into the sunset with you.” When you finally look at him he just nods his head because he knows he can’t change how he acted towards you, he can only show you how it’s not how he normally acts.

“I just want you to get to know me. Because that’s the only way you’ll understand that I’m not full of shit when I say I’m usually not like that.” Harry really doesn’t care how desperate he sounds because honestly that’s exactly how he feels.

He knows he should give you all the space and time possible for you to be the one to want to get to know him but he just can’t risk that never happening. Something inside of him knows the two of you aren’t meant to never speak again, he knows there’s something there and he’s not going to give up on it even if it means begging you to give him another chance.

“Maybe we can go have coffee or something simple like that? It doesn’t have to be anything besides two people getting to know each other.”

“I uh don’t know Harry I’m-I’m sorry I have to go.” You look away from him so you don’t have to see the utter disappointment on his face as you turn and grab your box off the shelf before you walk out of the mailroom door.

“Smooth Harry real fucking smooth.” Harry mumbles to himself as he runs a hand through his hair before he grabs his packages and leaves the mailroom, making sure to use the stairs so he doesn’t end up making you feel uncomfortable by sharing an elevator with him.

When you get back to your apartment you do the only thing you can think to do in this situation. You reach out to Niall who shockingly also happens to be in your complex, at least for the evening. So with a promise from him to stop by in the morning on his way out you begin to relax a little. You know that Niall will help you come to a decision about what to do about Harry because he’s known him for years so if anyone can shed light on how Harry really is it’ll be his bestfriend, Niall Horan.

Niall tries not to look at you like you’re crazy as you stand in the middle of your kitchen holding your mug of coffee while you tell him everything that happened when you saw Harry a few days ago. He nods along to your story as he leans against your counter with his arms crossed over his chest, giving you his full attention as you tell him one of the oddest stories he’s heard in a while because he’s not sure he’s ever experienced anything like the tingling and warming sensation you’re describing all because Harry touched you. But this isn’t the first time he’s heard about the odd zap like feeling because Harry described something very similar happening to him whenever you touched him so he knows it has to mean something he’s just not sure what exactly.

“Okay so he was an asshole to you because he likes you so much? That’s what he said?” Niall asks making you just nod your head before taking a sip of your coffee. “So you’ve somehow made the wires in that small little brain of his all crisscrossed makin’ him act like a right jackass.”

“I just don’t think that’s a good excuse for how he acted.” You argue as you walk over and place your mug in the sink. “I don’t want to let someone who can be mean like that into my life again.” You explain as you look down at your slippers, not wanting to see the sad and sympathetic look Niall is going to give you because it’s one you’re used to getting once people realize who your ex is because he isn’t known for being the nicest or the most caring.

“Now I know Harry was a bit of a twat but trust me love I’d never suggest the two of you get to know each other more if I thought for a second he was anything like that actual wanker of an ex of yours.” Niall says in hopes it’ll reassure you that Harry isn’t as bad as he made you think he was, he just had some issues going on that he couldn’t get control of such as his brain not telling him when to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know Niall he acted just like him.”

“Ever since he’s realized he likes you he’s been nothing but nice right?”

“Yes but that doesn’t change how he acted before he realized how he felt about me. We aren’t kids anymore we don’t go around being mean to girls we have crushes on.” Niall can’t say anything to that because you’re right, Harry has some things he needs to really make up for.

“I get that. But let me ask you this. What all have you heard about Harry Styles?” You let out a sigh as you send Niall a glare as he quirks a brow at you waiting to hear what all you’ve heard about his bestfriend.

“That he’s charming and nice.”

“What else?”

“He’s handsome and at parties he plays good music and uh I think some girls said they’d feel fine leaving their drink alone with him at a party. He’s funny uhm-oh he gives good hugs.” Niall has to hold back his laugh at your last thing because it’s one he’s also heard about Harry and he would have to agree, the man gives a damn good hug.

“It’s because he doesn’t pull away until you do-the hug thing. That’s why they are so good.” You feel your cheeks get warm as you imagine Harry holding you until you feel ready to let go, wondering if he’d really let you stand there for however long you needed or if he’d get annoyed with your clinginess after a minute or two. “But do any of those things sound like someone who’s that big of an asshole? I don’t think Cody has ever been called charming a day in his bloody life.” Niall points out as he walks the short distance so he’s closing the gap between the two of you allowing him to place a hand on your arm.

“Maybe just let him try to show you the Harry he normally is? Because you can’t deny that there’s something going on between you two with your tingles and his zaps.” You smile as he gives your arm a gentle squeeze. “And if you get to know him a bit and still think he’s a raging asshole then so be it. Just kick his lanky ass to the curb and move on.” Niall smiles when you let out a little giggle as he runs his hand up and down your arm a few times before letting go.

“I guess I-I could maybe try to get to know him a little more.” You say giving in to Niall’s sweet talking about how if all else fails you just tell Harry to leave you alone for good and move on with your life.

“M’gonna be honest with you love I think he’s like proper smitten with you so uh-don’t be all shocked if he comes on a little strong.” He warns as he turns to make his way towards your front door, you feel your tummy do a weird flip thing as you try to think of Harry being so far gone for you while you don’t even know if you want to be around him or not.

“But he’s still a gentleman of sorts so if you tell him to fuck off he will. Just wanted to give you a warning that’s all.” He rushes to explain when he turns to glance at you over his shoulder and sees a panicked look on your face.

“Thank-” Your words are cut short by a knock on your door that makes Niall instantly turn to answer it as if he was the one expecting company at your apartment. You tighten the belt of your robe as Niall swings the door open only to reveal a very startled looking Harry.

“Niall? Wha-what the hell are you-” Harry stops talking as he looks over Niall’s shoulder and sees you standing in your kitchen in a colorful robe that ends a few inches past your knees with your hair in a messy bun as if you just woke up. But it’s when he looks at Niall who is in just jeans and a wrinkled shirt with his hair all over the place that he begins to feel a surge of anger corse through his veins.

“Now don’t go overreactin’ Harry I just came by to see how she was doing and she made me some coffee that’s all.” Niall quickly explains once he can practically see the steam coming off Harry as his green eyes stare into his blue ones.

“Really? You just happened to be in the neighborhood is that is?” You furrow your brows as you cross your arms over your chest and watch the two men standing in your doorway have an intense staring contest.

“I was actually. Just a floor above if you must know so I figured it would be rude if I left the building without popping by.” Harry raises a brow at Niall who just gives him a playful wink as he reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. “Now if you don’t mind I’m gonna go do my walk of shame back to my car. Call me whenever you’re done bein a prick.” Harry’s glare softens as he finally puts together exactly what Niall is saying, you just shake your head as you watch Harry move to the side so Niall can make his way out the door and into the hallway.

“I hope you were safe because the world doesn’t need anymore Horans yet!” Harry shouts down the hallway at Niall who responds with flipping Harry the bird as reaches the elevators.

“Good morning Harry.” Your voice brings Harry back to the whole reason he’s standing in your doorway, you can see him physically become more relaxed as soon as he turns his head and makes eye contact with you. His shoulders slump the slightest bit and his eyes get this soft look to them while the corners of his mouth turn upwards giving you a hint of a smile.

“Good morning.” He says with a smile as he brings his hand up to give you a small wave while he looks at you with a fondness that has a small blush beginning to creep its way onto your cheeks.

“You can come in if you’d like.” Harry eagerly steps inside your apartment, closing the door behind him before he takes a few small steps towards where you’re standing in the kitchen.

You can tell he is nervous and you can understand why, when you saw him last night he was asking you to give him a chance to get to know him and you walked away, making you still a little shocked that he decided to come knock on your door this morning. But then you remember what Niall said about him being smitten with you and it makes a little more sense as to why Harry just can’t let you go.

“Do you maybe want to take a walk with me? Through the park across the street?”

“A walk?”

“Uh yes or do you-you prefer the word stroll instead? I can call it whatever you want.” He fumbles a bit as you stare at him with an expression he can only take as confusion. You chew on your bottom lip as you look down at your robe and the slippers on your feet, of course this doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry so he tries to offer a solution. “I can wait at my place for you to get ready if you want? Or if you don’t want to go that’s fine too I can-”

“You really came here at eight in the morning to see if I wanted to go on a walk?” You question as you look back up at him not fully understanding why he would bother asking you on a walk when he mentioned wanting to get coffee just last night.

“I figured it would be better if we hung out in open places so if you uh get-get upset or something you wouldn’t feel trapped with me you could just walk away.” As odd as his reasoning sounds you can’t help but feel a small smile want to form on your face at the fact he doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re stuck anywhere with him if you suddenly feel uncomfortable.

“That’s very thoughtful of you Harry.” He smiles at your kind words, you move around the kitchen and begin heading for your bedroom making Harry wonder if you’re about to kick him out or just leave him standing there like the idiot he’s beginning to think he is. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Feel free to have some coffee if you’d like.” Your words make a sigh of relief escape Harry’s lungs as he gives you a nod before you disappear into your bedroom to get dressed.

There’s an odd but also comfortable silence surrounding you and Harry as you walk through the park across from your apartment complex. You can feel his eyes on you every now and then but you haven’t let yourself look over at him yet, knowing that the moment you do you’ll get distracted by the way his hair looks pushed up and out of his face or how nice his arms look in the fitted black t shirt he has on with his usual skinny jeans and boots. And right now you want to try to just enjoy his company without any distractions but Harry seems to have other plans because just at you’re about to turn down a little path that passes the fenced in dog park he stops walking.

“Can I test something out really quickly?” He asks while he motions towards a bench behind you. You just nod and follow him, sitting down next to him but with some space between the two of you. It’s when he holds his hand out towards you, palm up that you begin to feel nervous, not sure what he wants you raise a brow at him as your eyes glance from his outstretched hand up to his face to meet his stare. “May I have your hand please? Just for a moment.”

“Uhm okay.” Your voice is shaky as you slowly hover your hand over his, not entirely ready to actually put your hands together. Harry sensing your nervousness gives you a smile and you swear his eyes turn a whole shade brighter as they stare into yours.

“You look really pretty today.” His voice is soft as his eyes dart down to the pink t shirt you have tucked into a pair of denim shorts. “I mean you always look pretty but I really like you in pink.” You know he’s trying to distract you from your nerves with his random compliments and normally you’d roll your eyes at someone giving you more than one in a row but coming from Harry as he looks at you with such adoration in his eyes your heart can’t help but want to melt.

“Thank you.” Harry just smiles as you look down at your hand that’s still hovering over his, you let out a deep breath and in one quick motion you press it against his and immediately you feel the tingling sensation begin to spread over your palm followed by a warmth that goes all the way down to your fingertips.

“What’s it feel like for you?”

“Like a uhm bee sting but without the pain. It’s a little tingly and warm.”

“Tingly and warm huh? That doesn’t sound too bad.” As he talks Harry slowly interlocks his fingers with yours so he’s fully holding your hand causing the warmth to spread up to your wrist.

“It’s not bad it was just a lot the uhm first time it happened and that’s-that’s why I was so out of it afterwards.” You explain as you try to ignore the slight tingle that hits your elbow when Harry gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why can’t you move on from me? You don’t even really know me.”

“I don’t know why I can’t move on from you. All I know is that you’re all I think about when you’re not around and anytime you touch me it’s like a lightning strike that goes all the way through me. I know that there’s something here and that you feel it too but you’re scared and that’s okay.” You swallow the small lump forming in your throat as Harry releases your hand so he can stand up and step over so he’s right in front of you. “I get why you’re scared. I was an asshole and you deserve better and you don’t even know if I can give you what you deserve because you don’t really know me either.” He kneels down so he can be eye level with you as he places a hand on your knee making a light tingling sensation go down to your toes.

“But all I’m asking is for you to give me a chance. To give this a chance.” You don’t know if it’s the way his voice hits your ears and sends a slight shiver down your spine, his hand on your knee that’s spreading a warmth down to your ankle, the way his eyes feel as if they can see right into the deepest parts of your heart as he stares at you or a mixture of all three that makes your mind suddenly forget all about the fear of getting hurt again.

“Okay.” You can tell by the look on Harry’s face that he wasn’t expecting the hear what you just let slip out of your mouth.

“Really? You-you’re serious? You want to give this a chance?” Harry’s eyebrows are raised in shock as the hand on your knee reaches for your hands that you have resting on your lap, placing his warm palm over both of them and giving them a soft squeeze.

“Yes.” You don’t give yourself time to overthink it, you know deep down that everything Harry has said is right. You know there’s something that keeps pulling you back to him so it’s worth taking a chance to get to know him and see where it goes because he’s worth taking a chance on. “You know I uhm saw you drop the flowers off because I was coming back from knocking on your door to talk to you about what happened the night of your party.” You confess as Harry looks at you like you’re the only person in the world that matters and in this moment he would say that’s true, or really anytime you’re around he’d say that’s true because if you’re anywhere near chances are you’re all he’s paying attention to.

“You went to my door? After I stormed off like a jerk?” He asks as he stands up and offers his hand to help you off the bench. You just nod and take his hand and feel your cheeks get warm when he doesn’t let it go, instead just slips his fingers between yours as the two of you begin walking.

“I wanted to see if you were okay and apologize if-”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I was just frustrated that you didn’t feel what I did but it turns out you just hadn’t felt it yet.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel frustrated I just didn’t understand what you were talking about and then I felt uhm a little uh weird because I was just standing there in my nightgown and slippers and you kept staring at me with this-”

“Your nightgown had me frustrated in other ways but I’m sorry I didn’t even realize I was staring.”

“Harry.” He laughs as you reach over with your free hand and smack his arm making the familiar jolt go straight down to his fingertips. “You can’t say things like that.” You say with a small smile as you look away from him and down at your feet but Harry knows you’re not really upset because you give his hand a very small but still noticeable squeeze.

“I can’t? Why not? It was a very cute nightgown love.” He asks as he looks down at you with a playful grin. Harry decides right there as the two of you are walking down the path in the middle of the park near your apartments that he likes being the reason you smile and he really likes it when he’s the one causing the light pink tint that’s dusting your cheeks.

“You know I heard you were charming but this is way more than I expected.” You tease making Harry let out a scoff.

“I’m not being charming I’m just being honest. What else have you heard about me?”

“I just told you the charming thing so it’s your turn. What have you heard about me? If you’ve even heard anything about me. I know I wasn’t nearly as popular as you around campus.”

“You don’t like parties because there’s too many people and loud music annoys you. You like to read a lot and you want to be a teacher.” You weren’t sure what Harry was going to say but you didn’t expect it to be things you know he heard from the one person who oddly knows you the least even though you dated for over a year. So it hits you a little harder than you thought it would and you feel the need to let him know a few things he said aren’t true.

“I don’t mind parties. I like being around people and loud music can be annoying but only if it’s being played next door while I’m trying to sleep. I do enjoy reading but I didn’t want to be a teacher I wanted to be a school counselor.” You correct him with a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and that Harry has come to learn is the one you give when you’re trying to make it less obvious that you’re upset.

“I’m sorry it’s just what he told us.”

“You don’t have to apologize it’s okay.” This time when you smile Harry notices it’s genuine. You stop walking next to the fence that separates the dog park from the rest of the park. You reluctantly let go of Harry’s hand so you can turn and place your them on the top of the fence while letting out a sigh. “He used to breakup with me on the weekends there was a party he wanted to go to without me. Normally he’d do it on Friday with some excuse about needing space because I’m too clingy and then on Monday or Tuesday he’d be at my door begging for me to take him back because he missed me so much.” Harry feels his jaw clench as you tell him one of the ways your ex mistreated you, it’s no real surprise considering Harry only knows Cody from his visits to the parties thrown by the fraternity Harry was in and he was always alone when arriving but not when leaving.

“And I used to take him back every single time. Until about two or three months ago he told me he needed some distance so he could figure out a few things and when he came crawling back a few days later I told him I was done. He didn’t believe me of course he just said I was being dramatic and he’d come back when I was done being dumb.” You let out a shaky breath as the memories of him ending your relationship every few months and how you would be devastated while he was just out getting drunk and hooking up with other people come rushing back.

“I know people thought I was an idiot for staying with him for so long but I just liked the-the comfort of not having to worry about trying to find someone because even though he was an asshole most of the time he was nice-sometimes and he was still my boyfriend. God that sounds horrible-”

“Hey you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” You feel Harry’s hand on your shoulder as suddenly he’s standing next to you. “I know he’s an asshole but if I would’ve known he was treating you like that I would’ve-well honestly I would’ve kicked his ass and-”

“Really you would’ve kicked his ass? Even though you had no clue who I was?” You ask as Harry drops his hand from his shoulder as you turn so you’re facing him while leaning against the fence. Harry wants to roll his eyes at your question because every time Harry saw your ex at one of his frat’s parties or just lingering around the house he’d want to kick him out but never had a solid reason to, so if he would’ve known all this back then he would’ve had reason to not only ban him from the fraternity’s house but also kick his ass and he would’ve loved every moment of it.

“I might not have known who you were but do you really think I didn’t notice you around campus? Like I never saw you walking around with that bright pink backpack with all those jingling keychains hanging off it? Or around the coffee shop enjoying your book while wrapped up in that yellow jumper with the white flowers all over it in the corner booth that has the most comfortable seat because the rest are lumpy and just horrible? I noticed you every time I saw you. I just didn’t know that I had been hearing about you from Cody all those times he’d come to the house and mention his girlfriend.” Harry smiles when he sees your cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as he lists off the times he saw you around campus but just didn’t know your name.

“My keychain collection is a bit out of control.” You admit making Harry laugh and nod his head as he reaches out and brushes a few hairs out of your face, tucking them behind your ear.

“So to answer your question. If I would’ve known the girl with the pink backpack and the odd ability to always snag the best seat in the campus coffee shop was the one that prick was talking about I wouldn’t have hesitated to punch him in his annoying mouth.” Harry feels a wave of protectiveness hit him as he looks at you, wanting to save you from ever having to deal with anyone who would dare talk poorly about you or treat you in a way that makes you upset.

“I’ll happily go beat him up now if you’d like? I know where he lives.” The playful glare you give him is all the answer he needs, fighting your ex isn’t allowed.

“He’s not worth it.”

“Oh I know he’s not. But you are. Your happiness is worth a few bruised knuckles.” You don’t know what to say back to him as he grabs one of your hands. “I’d do anything to make you happy.” He explains as he brings your hand up to his lips, you watch as he gives the top of your hand a quick and soft kiss making a tingling sensation spread to your fingertips.

You know he means the words that just slipped out of his mouth, you know Harry would probably do just about anything for you and instead of that making you feel nervous like it did when you first realized how much Harry liked you it makes you feel a strange sense of relief. As if now that you’ve allowed yourself to let Harry in and let him show you how he can treat you the way you deserve, your happiness is no longer something you have to worry about all on your own. It’s now something you’re willing to allow Harry to have a say in because as you stare into his emerald colored eyes you get this feeling that you can trust him with the most breakable parts of yourself.

It’s been four days since your walk with Harry and since then he doesn’t think there’s been a time in his life he’s ever felt happier. Sure there’s been times when he’s been happy and felt content with his life, but nothing compares the the feeling he gets in his chest when he sees you staring at him with a smile on your face or when he gets you laughing so hard you get tears in corners of your eyes. He doesn’t know what the two of you are doing exactly, if you’d say he’s someone you’re dating or if it’s more but he also doesn’t really care because you let him hold your hand whenever he wants and he even got to kiss your cheek last night when he walked you to your door after taking you to dinner.

Harry can feel your presence behind him as he stands outside your shared apartment complex, a smile stretching across his face as he turns around just to see you smiling right back at him and he watches your cheeks get a bit pink as his eyes roam over your frame. Something Harry has learned about you is that you enjoy wearing bright colors so it’s not shocking to him that you’ve decided to go with a pair of jeans and a yellow top with a sunflower on it. It makes sense to him that you enjoy wearing colors that are warm and inviting, just like sunshine.

“Sorry I got stuck on the second floor talking to Ms. Tucker about her cat.” You explain once you’re standing in front of him.

“Ah how is Mr. Jelly doing? I heard he’s in a bit of a grumpy mood since he started his diet.” Harry asks as he grabs your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. You just give him a look that tells him the poor cat isn’t handling his new lifestyle very well.

“Still grumpy.” You answer as the two of you begin to walk down the sidewalk.

“You look pretty.” Harry says with a squeeze of your hand making you smile as you look down at your feet as the two of you walk, not wanting him to see how his compliment made a blush creep its way onto your cheeks.

“Thank you.” You glance over at him as he looks around to make sure it’s safe to cross the intersection, you take this opportunity to let your eyes take in his appearance. It’s not lost on you how attractive Harry is, you notice the double takes people do when he walks by and a small part of you feels a little out of place with him but you also feel a since of pride knowing he wants you to be the one standing next to him with his hand wrapped around yours. You find your eyes lingering on the practically see through black long sleeved shirt he’s wearing that lets you see all his tattoos, and when you look down you can’t help but want to let out a chuckle at the very familiar boots his extremely well fitting black jeans are tucked into.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Harry’s voice makes your eyes dart up to meet his as the two of you reach the other side of the street, feeling only slightly embarrassed you got caught staring at him but you can tell but the playful smirk on his face he doesn’t mind at all. “Do I own any other shoes? The answer is yes but honestly these are just the most comfortable.” You laugh as he gives you a wink before going back to leading you down the sidewalk.

“So you mean you would actually kick people out at the end of your parties by having someone stand on a table and-”

“Not just someone sweetheart it’s a designated brother for each party.” He corrects with a smile as the two of you sit across from each other in a cozy booth at the little ice cream shop a few blocks away from your apartment. “It’s their job to tell everyone to get out so they have to really mean it when they’re yelling while standing on top of a table. Not just anyone can get a living room full of drunk college kids to leave.” He explains and you can’t help but lean closer to him as he talks, something about how Harry explains things has you paying extra close attention and you wonder if it has anything to do with the deepness of his voice that accentuates his accent.

“Is the table necessary?” Harry smiles at your genuine interest in the different rules and odd traditions of his fraternity. “What if the person is very tall or has a loud enough voice that they don’t need to be standing on a table for people to hear them?” You begin firing off questions making Harry chuckle as he reaches over and grabs one of your hands from across the table.

“There’s been one person that I’ve seen not need the table to break up a party.” He tells you as he begins to mess with the little silver band that you wear on your index finger.

“Really? Who?”

“Niall Horan.” His answer makes you lean your head back and laugh because you can vividly imagine Niall shouting loud enough and with a slight edge that a whole house party freezes and then begins to clear out. “He’s a bit terrifying when he needs to be.”

“I can only imagine.” You say between laughs making Harry smile as he watches you try to get ahold of yourself.

“I like your laugh.” You would think by now you’d be used to Harry’s random compliments but the way even the simplest ones make your cheeks get hot has you doubting if you ever will because with his compliments comes his undivided attention as he stares right at you with a grin on his face.

The way he is always paying attention to you is still something you’re getting comfortable with. Having noticed over the past three days that even when you think he’s not really paying attention as you ramble on about something unimportant, he shocks you by asking a question or giving his opinion letting you know he was in fact listening and paying attention. Your last relationship left you feeling as if what you had to say or do wasn’t of any importance but with Harry he makes it seem as if anything that has to do with you is of the upmost importance, wanting to know every little random thing that pops into your head and checking in with you during the day to ask what you’re up to and if you need anything. The constant checking in is something you have quickly adjusted to because you like knowing Harry cares enough to text you or sometimes even call you during the day when he’s free just to see how you’re doing and to not so subtly tell you he misses you.

But that’s how your nightly meetups became a thing, him mumbling how he missed you and you telling him you’ll see him when you’re done at orientation for your new job and you two can go have dinner or take another walk. He quickly asked if dinner and a walk would be acceptable and of course you said that was fine because a part of you missed his company as well, probably not as much as he missed yours but still you found yourself missing the warmth of his touch. So that’s how you find yourself sitting across from him in the well loved ice cream shop with your sundaes long forgotten about while he tells you bits and pieces of his life in the fraternity. Already sharing with you that he’s not quite willing to fill you in on all the nitty gritty details because he doesn’t want you to see him as some asshole frat brother but still letting you in on what it was like living with Niall and ten other brothers in one house.

“Are you ever going to stop doing that?” Harry raises a brow at your question as he continues playing with the ring on your index finger.

“Doing what love?” You let out a sigh at his teasing tone because he knows what you’re talking about he just likes to make you a bit of a flushed mess.

“Just complimenting me all the time? Is this something I should get used to or is it just temporary?”

“I’ll stop complimenting you when you stop doing things that are worthy of a compliment. But honestly I don’t see that happening anytime soon or really ever. So yeah you should just get used to it.” You playfully roll your eyes at his so very Harry like answer making him give your hand a squeeze.

“Well fine then two can play this game.”

“Oh really? Hit me with it then love let’s see what you’ve got.” He teases as he lets go of your hand so he can lean back in his seat and cross his arms over his chest with a smug looking smile on his face.

“I think your hair looks really nice today.” You start off simple making him give you a slight nod of approval as he runs a hand through his curls to push them up and out of his face. “I like your shirt.” The moment the words leave your mouth you know you’ve made a mistake as Harry looks down at his shirt that leaves very little to the imagination with how sheer it is.

“Do you really?” You just nod once his eyes find yours and you can see the smile slowly stretch across his face at the same time your cheeks begin to feel warm. “What do you like about it?” He asks as he places his forearms on the table, clasping his hands together letting you get a glimpse of the rings he has on his fingers as he leans in towards you.

When you don’t respond right away due to the sudden nerves that are swirling around in your tummy, Harry decides he’s done teasing you and reaches for both of your hands.

“You don’t have to be nervous to tell me what you’re thinking. I won’t ever judge you.” He reassures you, and you instantly begin to feel a little more relaxed as the warmth of his touch travels up to your wrists. “Like right now I’m thinking about how lucky I am to be out with you because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen and I’d tell you that at least a hundred times a day if I didn’t think you’d get sick of hearing it.” His confession has the nerves turning into butterflies that begin going off in your tummy.

“You’re very handsome.” You swallow down the nerves as Harry’s thumbs gently rub over your knuckles. “I like your tattoos and you are just uhm very-very good looking.” Your face feels like it’s one fire but you feel good letting Harry in on the fact you thinks he’s attractive, not that he’d ever have a reason to doubt how you felt about him with the amount of times he’s caught you blatantly staring at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

“I’m very happy to hear that you think I’m handsome. I’d have to go into hiding if the girl I’m infatuated with thought I was hideous.” You let out a small laugh at Harry’s lighthearted way to ease the tension that was beginning to surround the two of you, something you notice he is very good at, reading the energy of the room he’s in and knowing just when to crack a small joke or to ask a question that gets the conversation flowing in a different direction.

“Now come on.” He lets go of your hands so he can slide out of the booth and stand next to the table. “Let’s get you home before you say something really wild like you think my accent is sexy or-”

“It is.” It’s Harry’s turn to look shocked as you quietly interject on his silly little rant as you slide out of the booth and grab his hand that he’s held out for you.

“Oh stop you’re going to make my ego even bigger than it already is.” He says brushing off your compliment but the grin and slight pink hue to his cheeks is all the evidence you need that he wasn’t prepared for it so you feel good in giving him just a tiny dose of his own medicine.

“You know there’s uhm one more thing that I’ve been thinking about.” Harry looks over at you as the two of you walk out of the shop and turn onto the sidewalk.

“Let’s hear it then.” You try to calm your nerves down with a deep breath as you stop walking making Harry nearly stumble a bit as you pull at his hand that’s securely wrapped around yours to get him to stop walking. “Are you-”

“You haven’t tried to kiss me yet and I’m just wondering if it’s because you don’t think it’ll be good or is it because-”

“Hold on a minute love.” You feel as if your heart is going to beat right out of your chest as Harry stands directly in front of you with a rather serious expression on his face, one you don’t see very often. “You’ve been thinking about why I haven’t kissed you?” His voice has a gentle sort of sternness to it as he reaches up to place a hand on the side of your face.

“Yes? Do you uhm not-not want to? Because-”

“Of course I want to kiss you.” He cuts you off with a chuckle as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable since we haven’t really established what’s going on between us that’s all. But please believe me when I say I do want to kiss you it’s something I’ve thought about since the night of my party if I’m being honest.” You feel relief wash over you as Harry softly explains why he hasn’t tried to make any moves on you, all while his thumb gently strokes over your cheekbone.

“Well Harry how am I supposed to know if I want to be your girlfriend if I don’t know how you kiss?”

“Girlfriend? I was thinking more like soulmate or life partner depending on how you feel about marriage and all-”

“I’ll tell you how I feel about it after you kiss me.” Your words have Harry letting go of your hand so he can place that one on the other side of your face, his eyes stare into yours as a small smile takes over his face making you have no other choice but to return it. You watch it all happen in what feels like slow motion, he leans in and softly brushes his nose against yours before he places his lips on yours in the sweetest kiss you think you’ve ever experienced in your life. It has your lips slightly tingling and a warmth spreading throughout your whole body as your hands reach out to grab a hold of him so you can pull him closer. When Harry slowly pulls away he makes sure to keep his hands on your face, his thumbs leaving trails of tiny tingles as they run over your cheeks.

“I thi-think I uhm wouldn’t-wouldn’t mind the whole marriage thing.” You mumble in a hushed voice as Harry rests his forehead against yours. He lets out a breathy laugh as he pulls away so he can get a better look at your flushed face.

“Yeah? Should we stop by a jeweler on the way back home then? Get you sized up for a ring and all that?” Harry says only to gently tease you but when you nod your head as the hands you have fisting his shirt pull him back down so you can place a kiss to his lips he thinks maybe you’re being serious.

“Sounds good.” Harry can’t help but grin at how breathless you sound when he pulls away for the second time. His hands drop from your face making you pout at the loss of contact.

“Okay well come on sunshine we better get going before they close.” He shoots you a wink as your hands let go of his shirt so he can take his spot standing next to you on the sidewalk.

“Sunshine?” You ask as he grabs your hand and brings it up to his lips to give your knuckles a few kisses as the two of you begin walking again.

“Yeah. You’re my sunshine.” You smile at his answer and give his hand a squeeze. “Want to know what I’m thinking right now?” He asks with a playful smirk on his face.

“Yes.”

“I’m thinking that was one hell of a last first kiss.” You laugh and reach over and give his arm a little smack making him chuckle. “What? You’re the one asking to go ring shopping love so I think it’s safe to say that was our last ever first kiss.”

“You’re so lucky I find you attractive even when you’re being cocky.”

“Yeah.” You look over at him and it’s no surprise that he’s already looking at you with nothing but what you can only assume is love in his eyes. “I’m very lucky indeed.”

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octaneink · 4 months ago

Text

Not just you, not just me. Us.

Harry Lewis x Reader

Summary : The Reader and Harry go golfing on Valentines, even though the Reader has never gone and isn't really enjoy it but it ends on a high when they get some food and watch a film Warnings: None Notes: Happy (late) Valentines Day All 😚💕Also I hope this was alright!

You woke up to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a sleepy haze. Your phone buzzed on the night stand, and you reached for it, squinting at the screen. A text from Harry lit up the display: “Good morning, love! Happy Valentine’s Day! Wear something comfy—we’re going golfing!”

Golfing? You blinked, trying to process the words. You’d never played golf in your life. The closest you’d ever gotten to a golf course was watching Happy Gilmore on a lazy Sunday afternoon. But Harry sounded so excited in his text, his enthusiasm practically radiating through the screen. You didn’t want to disappoint him, so you dragged yourself out of bed, showered and threw on some comfortable clothes, and texted back, “Can’t wait!”

When Harry picked you up, he was practically bouncing with energy. He had a big grin on his face, his golf bag slung over his shoulder, and a thermos of coffee in his hand. “For you,” he said, handing it to you with a kiss on the cheek. “I know you’re not a morning person, so I thought you might need this.”

You smiled, taking the thermos gratefully. The coffee was perfect—just the way you liked it—and you felt a little flutter in your chest at how thoughtful he was. “Thank you,” you said, sipping it as he drove. “So, golfing, huh? What made you decide on that?”

He glanced at you, his eyes sparkling. “I just thought it’d be fun to do something different for Valentine's Day, I’ve never heard about it being a date. Which is a big missed opportunity. Plus, I’ve been wanting to teach you how to play. It’ll be a blast, I promise.”

You nodded, trying to match his enthusiasm, but a tiny knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. What if you were terrible at it? What if you embarrassed yourself? But Harry was so happy, and you didn’t want to ruin his plans. So, you pushed your worries aside and let him lead the way.

The golf course was breathtaking, a sprawling expanse of rolling green hills that seemed to stretch endlessly under the vast, open sky. The sun hung high, casting a golden glow over the perfectly manicured fairways, and a crisp, refreshing breeze carried the faint scent of freshly cut grass. The sky was a flawless shade of blue—which was surprising for the UK—dotted with a few wispy clouds that drifted lazily overhead. It was the kind of day that made you want to stop and just breathe it all in—the beauty, the peace, the quiet.

Harry was practically vibrating with excitement as he led you to the first tee, his golf bag slung over one shoulder and a wide grin on his face. He handed you a club, his eyes sparkling as he began to explain the basics. “Okay, so first things first,” he said, positioning himself behind you. “You want to hold the club like this.” He gently adjusted your grip, his hands warm and steady against yours. “And stand with your feet shoulder-width apart. Keep your knees slightly bent. Yeah, just like that.”

You nodded along, trying to absorb everything he was saying, but your mind was racing. Golf seemed so complicated—so many rules, so many tiny adjustments. When it was finally your turn to take a shot, you took a deep breath, swung the club, and… the ball barely moved. It rolled a few feet and then stopped, pathetically short of the hole.

Harry chuckled, the sound warm and light. “It’s okay!” he said, stepping closer. “You’ll get the hang of it. Here, let me show you again.” He demonstrated the swing, his movements smooth and effortless, and then handed the club back to you. “Try it like that.”

You tried again and again, but no matter how hard you focused, your shots were either too weak or veered wildly off course. One particularly bad swing sent the ball flying sideways, straight into a cluster of trees. You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I’m hopeless,” you muttered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

But Harry just laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re not hopeless,” he said, walking over to you. “You’re learning. And honestly, you’re doing way better than I did my first time. I think I whiffed—like, completely missed the ball—at least five times.”

You peeked at him from behind your hands. “Really?”

“Really?” he said, grinning. “It’s all part of the process. You’re supposed to be bad at it at first. That’s what makes it fun.”

By the time you reached the third hole, your arms were already starting to ache. The sun felt hotter now, and the breeze that had been so refreshing earlier did little to cool you down. Harry, on the other hand, was in his element. He was practically glowing with enthusiasm, his laughter ringing out across the course as he effortlessly sank one shot after another. At one point, he made a particularly difficult putt and celebrated with a little victory dance, spinning around and pumping his fist in the air. You couldn’t help but laugh, despite your growing frustration.

“Show-off,” you teased, shaking your head.

He grinned, walking over to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, I’m just trying to impress you,” he said, his voice warm and playful. “Admit it—you’re a little impressed.”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, leaning into him. “But I’m still terrible at this.”

“Nah, you’re doing great,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s your first time. You’re supposed to be bad at it. That’s part of the fun.”

You wanted to believe him, but as the hours passed, your frustration grew. Your arms ached from swinging the club, your feet hurt from walking the course, and you were pretty sure you’d developed a blister on your hand. Meanwhile, Harry was still in his element, laughing and joking as he effortlessly sank one shot after another. At one point, he even started narrating his swings in a dramatic commentator’s voice, making you laugh despite yourself.

By the sixth hole, you were starting to feel the strain. Your hands were sore, your back was stiff, and the blister on your hand had definitely gotten worse. You tried to hide your discomfort, forcing a smile every time Harry looked your way, but it was getting harder and harder to keep up the act. When you completely missed the ball on your next swing, sending the club flying out of your hands and into the grass, you let out a frustrated sigh.

Harry rushed over, his expression concerned. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, picking up the club and handing it back to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… clumsy, I guess.”

He studied your face for a moment, his brow furrowing. “You sure? You seem a little… off.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, your voice a little sharper than you intended. “Really. Let’s just keep going.”

Harry hesitated but then nodded, his smile returning. “Alright, if you say so. But if you need a break, just let me know, okay?”

“I will,” you said, though you had no intention of doing so. You didn’t want to ruin his fun, not when he was so clearly enjoying himself.

By the time you reached the ninth hole, you were exhausted. Your arms felt like jelly, your feet were throbbing, and the blister on your hand was now a full-blown annoyance. But Harry was still grinning, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he slung an arm around your shoulders. “This is so much fun, isn’t it?” he said, his voice full of enthusiasm.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “So much fun.”

You wanted to mean it, you really did. But as you walked back to the clubhouse, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that the day was almost over. You loved Harry, and you loved seeing him so happy, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t how Valentine’s Day was supposed to feel. It wasn’t until you were sitting in the clubhouse, sipping a drink and staring out at the sunset, that Harry finally noticed something was off.

Harry tilted his head, studying your face with a soft, concerned expression. “Hey,” he said gently, reaching over to take your hand. His touch was warm, grounding. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet for a while.”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around his. You didn’t want to ruin his mood—he’d been so happy all day, so full of energy and joy. But the way he was looking at you, his eyes searching yours with such genuine care, made it impossible to keep it all in. “I’m just… not really a golf person,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “I’ve never played before, and I’m not very good at it. I didn’t want to say anything because you were having such a great time, but… it’s not really my thing.”

Harry’s face fell, his brows knitting together in concern. “Oh no,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that. I just got so excited about sharing something I love with you that I didn’t stop to consider whether you’d enjoy it too.”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. “No, no, it’s not that I didn’t enjoy it at all,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, I loved spending the day with you, and watching you have so much fun made me happy. It’s just… I think I would’ve enjoyed it more if it wasn’t Valentine’s Day, you know? Like, maybe if we’d done this on a random weekend, it would’ve felt different. But today felt like it was supposed to be… I don’t know, more us, you know? Something we both love equally.”

Harry’s expression softened, and he squeezed your hand. “I get that,” he said, his voice gentle. “I really do. I guess I got so caught up in the idea of doing something different that I didn’t think about how it might feel for you. I’m sorry if it felt like I wasn’t considering what you wanted.”

You looked down at your hands, feeling guilty for bringing it up. “I didn’t want to say anything earlier because you were so into it,” you admitted. “You were laughing and smiling, and I didn’t want to ruin that. I thought maybe if I just pushed through, it would get better. But by the end of it, I was just so tired and frustrated, and I couldn’t keep pretending.”

Harry’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his touch soothing. “You don’t ever have to pretend with me,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “I want you to tell me when something’s not working for you. I never want you to feel like you have to suck it up just to make me happy. Your happiness matters just as much as mine, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Okay,” you whispered. “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited about today.”

“I was excited because I was with you,” he said, his tone earnest. “Not because of the golf. I mean, yeah, I love golf, but I love you more. And if you’re not having a good time, then I’m not having a good time either. Not really.”

You smiled faintly, your heart swelling at his words. “I did have fun, though,” you said. “Just… not the way I thought I would. I loved seeing you so happy, and I loved being outside with you. It was beautiful out there. I just think maybe golf isn’t my thing. Or at least, not for Valentine’s Day.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Noted,” he said. “No more golf on Valentine’s Day. Got it.” He paused, then grinned. “How about we make it up to you? Let’s grab some food—your favourite—and then we can go home and watch a movie. Something you pick. No golf, I promise.”

You laughed, the sound light and relieved. “That sounds perfect.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And next year,” he said, “we’ll do something we love. Deal?”

“Deal,” you said, leaning into him. And as the two of you sat there, hand in hand, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the hills, you realised that even though the day hadn’t gone exactly as planned, it had still been pretty perfect. Harry’s arm was warm around your shoulders, his presence steady and comforting, and you couldn’t help but smile as the tension of the day melted away.

“Come on,” Harry said, standing up and pulling you gently to your feet. “Let’s get out of here. I think we’ve both had enough of golf for one day.”

You laughed, the sound light and relieved. “I think you mean I’ve had enough of golf for one day. You looked like you were having the time of your life.”

He grinned, slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and taking your hand. “Yeah, well, even I have my limits. And right now, my limit is how hungry I am. Let’s get some food.”

The two of you walked to the car, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. The sky was now a deep shade of indigo, dotted with the first few stars of the night. Harry opened the car door for you, his hand lingering on yours for a moment as you slid into the seat. “So,” he said, leaning against the door frame, “what are you in the mood for? Takeaway? Something greasy and delicious?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping your chin dramatically. “Hmm… greasy and delicious sounds perfect. How about that little Indian place we love? The one with the amazing samosas?”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Yes. A thousand times yes. And we’re getting extra naan. No arguments.”

“Deal,” you said, laughing as he closed the door and jogged around to the driver’s side.

The drive to the takeaway was short, the streets quiet as the evening settled in. Harry kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your knee, his thumb tracing little circles as he hummed along to the radio. When you arrived, he insisted on going in to pick up the food while you waited in the car. “You’ve had a long day,” he said, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Just relax. I’ll be right back.”

You watched him disappear into the restaurant, a soft smile on your face. Despite the chaos of the day, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Harry had a way of making everything feel right, even when it wasn’t.

When he returned, he was carrying two large paper bags, the smell of spices and warm bread wafting through the car. “I may have gone a little overboard,” he admitted, setting the bags on your lap. “But I figured we deserve it.”

You peeked inside, your stomach growling at the sight of samosas, butter chicken, biryani, and, of course, an absurd amount of naan. “This is definitely overboard,” you said, laughing. “But I’m not complaining.”

Back at Harry’s place, the two of you spread out on the couch, the coffee table piled high with food. You insisted on putting on Four Lions, one of the films that the both of you can enjoy without complaints, and the opening credits were just starting as you dug into the food.

“You know,” Harry said, tearing off a piece of naan and dipping it into the butter chicken, “I think this might be the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

You raised an eyebrow, popping a samosa into your mouth. “Really? Even after the golf?”

He laughed, leaning back against the cushions. “Especially after the golf. I mean, yeah, it wasn’t exactly what you’d call romantic, but it was… us. And now we’re here, eating amazing food and watching an amazing movie. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork,” he corrected, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. His grin was wide and playful, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. But as he pulled back, you noticed a faint smear of butter chicken sauce on his lips—and now, unfortunately, on your cheek.

“Harry,” you said, trying to stifle a laugh, “you’ve got sauce on your lips. And now I’ve got sauce on my face.”

He blinked, then glanced at the naan in his hand, which was dripping with the rich, orange sauce. “Oh,” he said, his tone mock-serious. “Well, that’s just a bonus. Now you smell delicious.”

You groaned, eyes rolling in mock annoyance and shaking your head as you reached for a napkin. “You’re actually so annoying.”

But before you could wipe it off, he stopped you, his hand gently catching your wrist. “Wait, wait,” he said, his voice teasing. “I think I missed a spot.” He leaned in again, this time deliberately pressing a sloppy, exaggerated kiss to the same spot on your cheek, leaving an even bigger smear of sauce.

“Harry!” You squealed, half-laughing, half-trying to push him away. “You’re the worst!”

“No, I’m the best,” he said, grinning as he pulled back, his own cheek now slightly smeared with sauce from where it had brushed against yours. “Now we match. Couple goals, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as you grabbed a napkin and started wiping your cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he shot back, his tone dripping with exaggerated cheesiness. He even winked, which made you groan and throw a small piece of naan at him.

“You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head, but you were smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

“Impossibly charming,” he corrected, catching the naan midair and taking a triumphant bite. “Admit it. You love me.”

“I do,” you said, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder. “Even when you’re covered in butter chicken sauce.”

He laughed, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. Sauce and all.”

As the movie played, the two of you laughed until your sides hurt, the stress of the day completely forgotten. Harry kept stealing bites of your food, pretending to be offended when you did the same, and by the time the credits rolled, you were both stuffed and happy. The room was warm and cosy, the soft glow of the TV casting a gentle light over the two of you as you lounged on the couch, tangled up in each other.

Harry shifted slightly, turning to face you with a mischievous grin. “So,” he said, his voice playful but with a hint of seriousness, “next year, no golf. What do you want to do instead?”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin dramatically. “Hmm… how about a spa day? Massages, facials, the works. Just pure relaxation.”

He groaned, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Fine. But only if I get a massage too. And maybe one of those cucumber things on my eyes. I’ve always wanted to try that.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, no, don’t worry, I’m only joking. We need to think of something we both want to do. Not just me, not just you. Something that’s… us. You know, like, our thing.”

Harry tilted his head, his expression softening as he considered your words. “Okay, fair point. So, what’s something we both love? Something that feels like us?”

You paused, letting the question linger in the air for a moment. The two of you had shared so many moments together—some big, some small—but you wanted next year to be something special, something that reflected both of your personalities and passions. Then it hit you.

“How about a weekend away?” You suggested, growing more excited as the idea took shape. “Somewhere cosy, with a fireplace and a big bathtub. We could go hiking during the day—you know, explore some trails, take in the views—and then come back and relax in the evening. No golf, no spa, no pressure. Just us.”

Harry’s face lit up, his smile widening as he leaned in closer. “That sounds perfect,” he said, his voice warm and full of enthusiasm. “A little adventure, a little relaxation. Best of both worlds. And I love the idea of being somewhere quiet, just the two of us. No distractions, no schedules. Just us.”

“Exactly,” you said, feeling a rush of excitement as the plan began to take shape. “We could find a cute little cabin in the woods or maybe a cottage by the lake. Somewhere peaceful, where we can just… be.”

Harry’s eyes softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I love that idea,” he said, his voice low and tender. “And I love that you’re thinking about us—about what we both want. That means a lot to me.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “It means a lot to me too,” you said softly. “I want next year to be about us. Not just you, not just me. Us.”

He nodded, his hand resting gently on your cheek. “Us,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like the sound of that.”

You leaned into his touch, your heart swelling with affection. “And we can take turns planning the details,” you added, your voice light and playful again. “You pick the hikes, I’ll pick the cosy cabin. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, sealing it with a kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining with a mix of love and excitement. “Next year, it’s all about us. Just you, me, and a lot of adventure—and relaxation.”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “But you know what? I don’t need a fancy weekend or a perfect plan to know that I’m already exactly where I want to be. Right here, with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt a lump form in your throat. “Harry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I mean it,” he said. “Today wasn’t perfect, but it was still one of the best days I’ve had because I got to spend it with you. And next year, no matter what we do, it’ll be the same. Because it’s you. And you’re my favourite person.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them away, laughing softly. “You’re such a romantic,” you said, your voice teasing but filled with affection.

“Only for you,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “Always for you.”

And as the two of you sat there, wrapped up in each other and the warmth of the evening, you realised that Valentine’s Day didn’t have to be perfect to be special. It just had to be with him. And next year, it would be exactly what you both wanted—a day that was truly, completely yours.

What do we think? This story was inspired by a couple I was serving while working as a waitress. They were out for Valentine’s Day, and it was clear the woman wasn’t enjoying her meal. I overheard her saying she was allergic to seafood, which was wild because the restaurant’s whole gimic was seafood.

It got me thinking about how couples navigate moments like that—where one person’s idea of a perfect day doesn’t quite align with the other’s. I hope the way I wrote their conversation came across as realistic and reasonable. Let me know your thoughts!

#harry lewis x reader #harry lewis #harry lewis x fem!reader #harry lewis x female reader #w2s #w2s x reader

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