#i wish we could approach him with that offer even long after the bite scene tho

[fangsandfeels]

Something I noticed in the post-bite dialogues

It's interesting how the option to tell Astarion that you don't mind him feeding on you if you give your permission first not only gives no approval, but Astarion also sounds so...fake in his enthusiasm. He isn't surprised, relieved, or intrigued. He is almost condescending. Ah yes, of coooourse. He is as insincere as when he was lying through his teeth about "the spirit of cooperation and mutual trust" when the group gathered to react to his vampire reveal.

Meanwhile agreeing with him on his "no innocents, enemies only" stance dons +5 approval, and he is actually pleased. Good talk.

I think, this difference in response is based on the real reason why he decided to taste Tav's blood in the first place. As we know, it wasn't hunger. It was testing his limits and checking whether he was truly free from Cazador's influence. So, he doesn't really need to feed from Tav anymore - he got his answer. It was the only thing he was after, and he is truly grateful Tav let him have it. He also had time to think his feeding policy through ("No innocents. You have my word.") because he anticipated Tav asking him about his new feeding habits. If Tav has no objections, Astarion is actually happy about it. He is accepted without prejudice and well...relieved it all went rather smoothly.

But if Tav says he can have their blood when they give their permission leaves him (at least initially) unimpressed and even rubs him the wrong way as he still revels in not needing permission to drink the blood of thinking creatures. Of course, Tav doesn't know that. They're just either being too kind for their own good (who would willingly endure the feeling of their life force seeping away and waking up with a sore neck every morning?) or they're actually a little freak, and they liked it. Astarion isn't exactly humored by the latter (as we see from Araj, he isn't happy about people romanticizing his vampiric side), but he can use that fetish to his advantage. Also, a free and willing meal isn't something he would refuse. That also explains his almost flirty responses whenever Tav tells him "You can feed on me tonight". He found his seduction angle and he is going for it.

[yandere--stuck]

Bad Blood - Yandere!Batman x Reader x Yandere!Joker

It wasn't just The Joker who had been watching you. And to a point, you were aware of that.

After all, that just came with the territory of being a minor celebrity within Gotham city. It wasn't often that those considered "famous" in Gotham didn't either have connections to the mafia or were locked up within Arkham or Blackgate. 

As a reporter, you were watched on the news, on the streets - occasionally approached by fans, at parties where you mingled with your peers or made connections. All rather normal, really.

But, there were times when you could just feel it in your bones. You were being watched.

Like in the dark of night, the moon following you on your walk home. Alone. When the light from street lamps bathed everything in orange. The streets empty, the occasional car zooming by. It was then that you had felt watched.

It was understandable, something innate in humans, to feel frightened of the dark and the paranoia of being alone. Our imaginations run wild, and we trick ourselves into thinking that there's something out there with us. Someone following our every move, hiding just out of sight. But, no matter how many times you swore you were being watched, nothing ever happened. No muggings, no stalkers, no threats. When you got back to your apartment, unlocking and then re-locking all six of the locks on your door, you were able to let out a sigh of relief - it was just your own paranoia getting the best of you. You weren't being followed. You could relax, knowing that it was all in your head.

But, it wasn't.

Your paranoia wasn't unfounded. The shiver of your spine at the feeling of being watched wasn't your mind tricking itself. But, of course, even when you'd turn around to try and spot someone, something, you hadn't been able to see him. He had hid in the shadows and crouched atop rooftops, keeping watch over you.

He had done so every night. The moment you left the studio, to when you started your walk, and then headed home. He even stuck around to peer through your window, making sure you were truly safe. It wasn't something any of the Robins or Oracle knew about - it wasn't something they had to know. Well… It's not like he exactly lied about what he was doing during the alotted time of your walk home. But, he also didnt want to admit it, either - not that he thought what he was doing was wrong, but… He just didn't want anyone to be worried. To get the wrong idea. And it rarely took time out of his nightly patrol, just fifteen minutes. It wasn't a big deal.

He was just protecting you. That was just his job. He was supposed to protect the people of Gotham. To protect you. He just had a… Fixation, that's all. And when Bruce gets fixated on something, it's like pulling teeth for him to keep away.

Bruce met you like he does with most reporters - at a charity event. He had seen your stories on the news a few times beforehand, and braced himself for the usual song and dance - Vicki Vale trying to score something on the record for something much juicier and personal than the cause he was donating to, or perhaps Jack Ryder trying to rile him up to get him to throw a fit for a story. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when you treated him like an actual person. Sure, it could be that you were off the clock - but really, when were reporters ever really off the clock?

Most people would bend over backwards to get themselves into Brice Wayne's good graces. But, you… You talked to him like he was no different than anyone else. Maybe a bit reserved, but you had only just met, after all. In spite of this, Bruce found himself able to relax, chatting with you about the party, about your days up to then, your different careers. Bruce felt like he could actually be himself. With you, he wasn't Batman, nor was he billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. He was just… Himself.

Him and you.

He decides to stick by your side most of the evening, you and him talking long into the night. About your lives, your worries, your hobbies, your interests. It had been so long since he talked about such personal things with someone, even Alfred. And you understand. You understand his worries of responsibility, the weight of the world among his shoulders, you understand the suffocation of isolation, you under his inability to move on from the trauma of his past, try as he might. You understand. Of course you do…

You acted as someone to vent to. A listening ear. You offered up advice, even if you might not have the right answers to his problem. Sure, you might not know the full extent of his stress, but it's the thought that counts. It's almost like this night was made for you and him. 

Something like, fate - that is, if Bruce had actually believed in something like that.

After that night, he found himself making a point to watch you on the news. The way you talked on the television is how you talked with him that night. Personable, comfortable, familiar. You might not be talking to him directly, but it warms his heart and staves off the icy chill of loneliness.

He went out of his way to find you during other important, publicized events. Most likely, you probably thought it was a coincidence that you kept finding yourself in his company. You most likely thought him as just an acquaintance, nothing more… But, oh, you meant so much to him.

And, oh, when you talked about Batman? Knowing that it was him you were talking about (even if you had no idea)... He'd be lying if it didn't make him a bit flustered. Your praises, the way you saw him as an inspiration, hoping after every mission that he was alright… And when you look into the camera and say to him, to Batman, through the screen, that you wish him a nice night and to be safe…?

God. He was smitten. And, really, that was his biggest mistake.

Feelings just made things complicated. He had learned that a long time ago. That everything he touched and loved was inevitably destroyed. It's why he works alone more often than not. He doesn't want someone getting hurt because of him ever again. Bruce has enemies, and Batman has even more. 

Even if he had tried to reach out to you as Bruce, as himself, who's to say you would have wanted to be with him? Why would someone like you want Bruce Wayne - someone who most of Gotham portrayed as an immature playboy who never got over the death of his parents. While the second part wasn't exactly wrong, the whole playboy thing was just a diversion. But, how in the hell was he supposed to explain that?

It was easier to just let you go. You'd be happier, and more importantly, safer without his presence in your life.

So, he satiated himself on watching you, protecting you from the shadows, and kept himself sane by rewatching footage of you he's stashed within your home and around your apartment building. If he adored you from afar, that wouldn't hurt anything, right?

… But now, he's wishing he had just taken the chance. He had been good, had left you alone.

And he watched as the helicopter you were in was shot down. Watched as the recording cut off. Heard as you screamed at the top of your lungs. He replayed what he had seen over and over in his mind, losing himself. Bruce had gone so tense in disbelief and grief and rage that by the time Alfred had brought him back to reality, his nails had dug into the armrest of his loveseat.

He had insisted to himself later that night that  investigating the scene of the crime wasn't fueled by personal connection or any feelings he may have. It was Batman's job. And if he ignores all the other bodies in favor of one that is presumed to be yours, it's just because he notices something different about it from the other's, that's all.

The body was decomposed far beyond that of the others, and had been exposed to the elements longer than the others. And to add onto that, the DNA sample Bruce had collected was matched with a body that had been gone missing from Gotham General.

Bruce's heart fluttered with hope and relief. You were alive, you had to be. But, just as quickly, realization crashed into him. If you were alive, it's only because Joker wanted you to be.

... What was he doing to you?

---

You stared down at the meal the Clown Prince of Crime had prepared for you - well, if you could call heating up a frozen dinner "preparing". It's not like you were exactly in a place to complain, though, considering the predicament you were stuck in.

Counting the time you had spent unconscious and Joker getting you situated and up to speed, it was most likely a few hours since the incident. You were feeling rather hungry… But, in spite of all of The Joker's lovey-dovey talk, you weren't quite sure if you could trust him to not serve you poisoned food. Even worse, however, was that you were still tied up - meaning the clown had to feed you, and you were even more unsure that he wouldn't kill you if you refused to eat.

In spite of the circumstances, and the dingy place you were trapped in, it wasn't exactly the worst. Hell, Joker had even lit up some candles for some mood lighting. Not exactly the worst "date", you had been on, sadly enough.

"Ready for some grub?" The Joker lurched into view, straightening his tie as he shot you a grin. "You must have worked up quite an appetite by now, considering all the excitement!"

You smiled in return, hoping it didn't look too strained as you nodded. You watched as he got his utensils ready, cutting up some of the food into smaller bites. You kept especially close attention on the hand holding a knife - though, it wasn't like you had any way to flee if he had decided to turn it on you.

The Joker stabbed at the food with a fork, setting down the knife, as he moved to raise your meal to your lips, while you attempted not to turn your head away. The fork approached closer and closer, and you tried to rid your mind of awful thoughts, like an eye being ripped out of its socket, implanted on the fork's tongues. But, then, The Joker suddenly stopped.

"Oh, silly me! I almost forgot," The Clown Prince set down the utensils, digging into the inside of his suit. With a flourish, he unveiled a bright, colorful, and clearly plastic flower, holding it out to you. "A present for you, m'dear! Go on, take a whiff."

You shook in your seat. Oh, God. You knew exactly where this was going. He had played you this whole time, like predators played with their food. He had made you think he had developed this obsession with you and managed to lull you into a false sense of security. And just when you were sure you were going to make it out of this situation alive, he planned to hit you with his trademark laughing gas and watch as you died.

You held back tears, shivering with fear and despair. And The Joker looked so happy, so encouraging. You were going to die. You had hit the end of the road.

You leaned forward, taking a breath through your nose-

And jumped, letting out a scream as the ceiling caved in, a dark figure crashing through. You whipped your head to face it- and winced as a small stream of water hit your cheek. Blinking once, twice, three times, you slowly turned to the clown and the trick flower in his hand.

Oh. So, it was just a regular trick flower. Not a deadly one. Okay. Okay, yeah. Sure. Great.

Groaning softly, your whole body went limp. You hung your head, shaking it slowly. Whatever. Whatever happened next, you didn't care. You were too exhausted.

"Aw, c'mon, Bats! Don'tcha know it's rude to upstage someone's act?" Joker asked. "Besides, you weren't invited to our little date night..."

...Batman?

From your periphery, you could see it. See him. 

Oh, thank God. Thank fucking God. You were saved! Batman was going to save you!

All the tiredness seemed to instantly fade as you were overwhelmed with adrenaline and relief. You were saved. You were saved. Batman was going to save you. Batman was going to protect you and make sure you were all right. You didn't have to worry or be scared anymore. Batman would do all of the worrying for you.

"You broke out of Arkham, killed innocent people, and kidnapped the sole survivor after almost killing them, as well," Batman seethed, his voice a growl. "You're going back to Arkham, and I'll be taking them with me, where they'll be safe."

"Hey! First off, the whole helicopter thing wasn't me, it was one of my boys. Well… To be fair, I had intended on killing them when we downed the thing, but eh, two birds with one stone, I suppose. I wouldn't even have been mad about it, if my darling reporter here hadn't almost been hurt in the crash," The Joker moved behind you, making you seize up as he grasped your shoulders, massaging them slightly. "And really, Bats, if this is some kind of jealousy thing, you could always just ask to share."

"You're insane." Batman spat.

"Babes, you really need to get some better material," The Clown tutted. "And I was being honest! I'm actually trying to communicate here," You were suddenly spun around, locking eyes with your hero. You shuddered as the Joker nuzzled you from behind, unable to stop your face from heating up. "What do you think, darling? How's about a three-way date with me and the big bad Bat?"

"I… I-I-" You stuttered, unable to get a coherent thought put as you burned with embarrassment.

Could anyone blame you for having a little  crush on Batman? You'd bet a good majority of Gothamites felt the same toward their dear Dark Knight. Hell, you'd even bet that some of the Rogues that the Caped Crusader went up against had feelings for him. It was pretty obvious the Joker did, at least.

And the Joker… He was a monster. A criminal. But, the time you've spent with him… Well, you could better understand how Dr. Quinnzel fell for the man. Despite your knowledge of the horrible crimes he committed, the way he treated you so kindly, it was hard to not get flustered, to not feel special. It was hard to ignore his humor, his affection for you, his pet names, his sweet gestures- no, no. This- this was ridiculous. You had to stop. You weren't thinking straight.

"Get your hands off of them!" The Bat spat.

"But I don't wanna!" Joker let out an exaggerated whine, before descending into giggles. Painted lips brushed against your neck. "Besides, I don't think they want me to…"

You felt hypersensitive, the brush of the Clown's lips drawing a whine from your throat.

Your eyes shot open wide as a pained scream ripped from Joker. You turned as best you could, watching the man stumble back, clutching his hand - a batarang sticking piercing through it, blood bubbling up from the wound and dripping to the floor.

The Joker hissed, bristling with rage. "Bats, why you-!"

In an instant, Batman shot put his batclaw, the claw digging into The Joker's suit, before retracting. The Joker stumbled as he rocketed forward, his face immediately colliding with Batman's fist. Before he could fall back, the Dark Knight caught him by the throat and squeezed. The Clown wheeled and coughed in shock at the closing of his windpipe and his desperation to breathe. The Bat slowly lifted another fist - and hit the other man so hard that even you winced. You watched as Joker fell onto his back with a low groan. The Batman stood above him, glowering and breathing heavily as he looked down on his nemesis.

"Batsy, babe… Ya know I love it when you play rough, but Jesus, warn a guy first, will ya?" The Joker laughed wearily, seemingly in a daze. 

Sneering, Batman grabbed his nemesis by his coat, tossing him aside onto his stomach. His foot came down to stomp onto his arm, making the other man whimper, and the Bat reached down to rip the batarang free from his hand, and in turn, ripping a scream from Joker's throat. Pulling out a pair of batcuffs, the Caped Crusader roughly restrained the man's arms, before lifting him to his feet.

"Careful with the merchandise…" The Joker grumbled.

With a second pair of cuffs, the Bat attached one of the cuffs to the Joker's ankle, the Clown laughing as he attempted to kick at the Bat to heed his progress, and then the other to a metal support pillar protruding from the floor.

And then, in the next instant, Batman was at your side, diligently working to free you from the shackles that bound you. As the restraints loosened, you took in a deep breath before letting out a shuddering sigh. You tried to stand, only for your legs to give out from under you - you had spent so long in that position that your legs had fallen asleep - but it was okay. Batman caught you. He caught you and he held you and pulled you into a hug. A gloved hand petted your hair soothingly.

"It's okay. You're safe, you're okay," The Bat rumbled. "I've got you."

This. This was what you loved most about The Batman. As much as he was revered for the fear he struck into the heart of evil, how he acted as a phantom in the night, fighting back against the criminals that roamed Gotham in the night… What you loved most was what came after. Your interviews with survivors of criminal attacks are what made you grow a fondness for the Dark Knight. How comforting they said he was. How he reassured them, made them feel safe. When he was there, they knew everything was okay. They knew they were safe. That everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

And you melted into his hold.

He continued to murmur reassurances as he began to massage your legs until the static feeling went away and you found the strength to stand - and even then, he let you lean against him as you walked out into the night together.

"You'll pay for this, Bats," The Joker spat, expression dark… Until he locked eyes with you, and his visage softened. "How about same time next week, love?"

Before you could think of responding, Batman pulled out of the building and far, far away from the madman within.

---

Bruce had to fight to keep his driving steady. His body was flooded with adrenaline and his heart rabitted a mile a minute. His entire being felt electric.

He had touched you, held you. And you held him back, reassured and calmed by him. It was everything he had dreamed of. You had leaned against for support and let him help you climb into the batmobile.

He had managed to track The Joker down to one of his usual hideouts that he and Harley stayed at - an old, abandoned amusement park that had been sold to him. Well, would have been sold to him, if he hadn't killed the owner of the property before they could seal the deal.

He kept sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye. You, resting your head against the window, eyes shut as you tried to get some rest after everything you had been through. You could rest for as long as you liked. He was here now. Bruce would keep you safe.

Bruce took his usual shortcut into the batcave, driving into a cave opening just outside the manor, and you lifted your head, startled by the sudden turn and shift in light behind your eyes.

"Batman, where are we?"

Home.

You gasped as restraints wrapped over your ligaments, tying you down to the seat.

Bruce knew this was wrong. But, after such a long career as the Batman, he had learned that he often had to do the wrong thing in order to get the right outcome. He really wished there was any other way… But, you had a target on your head now. You'd be safe with him. He'd keep you deep within the batcave and visit you often. 

You sputtered, eyes wide with shock and disbelief and… Betrayal. Bruce hated the thought of you looking at him like that. He leaned over, softly pressing a kiss to your forehead. He felt you shiver under his touch.

He'd get you settled and comfortable. He'd reveal his true self to you at some point, but that was for later. You had been through enough for one night.

"You're safe now." Bruce lied promised. "I've got you."

[luimagines]

RQ: He’s upset and needs comforting

Masterlist

Ya'll want angst? Because I have some angst.

Very hurt/comfort

Set platonically and within the group since there was no specification. Hope that’s ok! Sorry it took awhile, it got away from me again. I think this may be a trend.

Scenario under the cut! It’s super long so take caution!

Sky

It took a while for you to notice but eventually you do.

Sky has been acting weird all day.

It was only clipped responses at first, then it was was the lack of attention where Sky would have been the first to comment or act otherwise. What really tipped you off finally was how he seemed to be evading the whole group. Not necessarily stepping away and out of sight but he didn’t interact with anyone and when they approached him, he didn’t make eye contact, seemingly trying to cut the conversation short.

No one has said anything. 

You mention it to Twilight about his out of character behavior but he says that it maybe a bad day, or he slept wrong, or some other reason that you stopped listening to because it didn’t make any sense.

Sky was always trying to be friendly no matter his mood and it took a lot to shake him up.

What was eating at the Chosen Hero?

Soon, the uncertainty begins to eat at you too and you wait for night fall, once everyone is asleep to strike.

Strike up a conversation that is.

Sky usually takes the last watch because he’s usually the first one out regardless of what activities for the day so you strive to wake up early.

It works for the most part, your internal clock doing what you want it to do when you blink your eyes open. Part of you begins to drift off again so you sit up and nearly fall asleep that way.

A hand comes up on your back and rubs a small circle. “Nightmare?”

It’s Sky and he’s looking at you with mild concern.

You smile and shake your head. “No. I’m alright but I think I’ll stay up with you if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company.” He moves out of your space and back to where he sat.

You follow, still groggy from just waking from your slumber but succeed in not stepping on any of your friends or waking them up as well with the added noise. you sit next to the Hero of the Skies with little fan fare and let the moment settle on the both of you before looking skyward.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look at Sky and continue star gazing even if they’re a little harder to spot as the sun travels closer for it’s shift.

Sky hums in agreement and follows your gaze upwards.

“Are you ok? You seemed a little off lately.”

Sky doesn’t say anything for the first few seconds and you suspect that maybe he didn’t hear you. With him spacing out so much and the fact that you whispered for the sake of your still sleeping friends, you’re inclined to repeat yourself but Sky answers in time.

“Just thinking a lot, I suppose. Nothing serious.”

“Yeah?” You don’t look his way. This is casual. This is friendly. This is not a big deal. “Rupee for your thoughts?”

“It’s not that interesting.”

You shrug. “Hit me with it anyway. It’s got to be something if it’s throwing you off your rocker. Maybe a new perspective will help clear some of it up?”

Sky frowns at your attempts, once again retreating into his mind. You let the offer hang in the air and let it sink in.

You’re disinclined to bring it up anymore. Your brain is still tired and you’re wondering your effectiveness when half of your thoughts are still muddled with sleep and fatigue. You could have totally slept in some more. What on earth made you think this was a good idea?

“Time mentioned something earlier that I can’t seem to let go of.” Sky begins.

You hum back and let him keep talking.

“I never fought this Ganon guy they all so talk so much about. I fought the God Demise. Before I could land the final blow, he cast a curse on me, on us, that some cycle would continue. His hatred would last forever and my blood line and Zelda’s will be cursed to deal with constant darkness caused by him.” Sky admits, looking now at his intertwined hands. “I finished him soon after that but... I wonder... Am I the cause-... Is this all my fault? Am I the reason that we’re all here right now? That everyone has gone through so much? So many thing happened that should have never occurred. Time and Legend and Wild have all suffered so much.... more than I can possibly ever imagine and it seems like it’s never ending. Everyone starts they’re adventures so young... If I had killed him sooner... If I had just got it over with... If I had just shut him up-”

“Hey.” Your hand lands on his shoulder, cutting off his tirade.  “None of this is anyone’s fault. The only people to blame are Ganon and now, this Demise guy. You did what you could. You still got the job done and no one here will ever blame you for what has happened to them or to Hyrule. You were young too... you’re still young. Give yourself a little kindness and understanding, just as you do with everyone here. You didn’t deserve it either. It’s not like you asked to fight a God.”

“Well...”

“Sky you know what I mean.”

“I should have been faster. If-”

“There’s no use in worrying about what if’s.” You shove him slightly. “This is our life. Even if you ask, no one is capable of giving you the answers. I get it. It’s hard to know if the path you took is the right one if it’s all you’ve ever known and you can’t see where the other would have lead... But... Even if horrible things happen, I’m still glad to have met you. I’m glad I met the others. I’m happy to be here with you and with them, and I’m glad that it’s not just me anymore.”

You let the words sink in before leaning down wards and trying to get him to look you in the eye. “I can’t answer your questions. But what happened, happened and the best thing we can do is learn how to play with the cards we’re dealt.”

He take a deep breath and  finally looks in your direction. “I know you’re right.” 

“Naturally.”

“But I can’t help but feel responsible for being-”

“But you’re not responsible for their pain or any of this Sky. If Ganon has anything to do with Demise then it’s all Demise’ fault. His and his only. Understand?” You stress. “I wish... I wish I could do something more to help.”

Sky places his hand over yours where you still have it on his shoulder and sends you a small smile. “I know. Me too.”

Wild

“Zelda, would you please drop it!” You hear the Champion yell, his voice carrying over the wind and somehow getting louder. “We’ve had this conversation before and it’s not the time to have it again. I have things to do excuse me.”

Wild storms into his house and shuts the door behind, blocking it with all his weight and waits for the indignant shrieking on the other side to go away. The voice ends with a frustrated huff and after a moment of silence, Wild relaxes and steps away from the door and further into the house.

You’re almost scared for the moment. You’ve not known Wild to yell, even less so for a Link to be on bad terms with Zelda no matter the universe. To make matters worse, you were the only that was actually within the house at the moment and you weren’t entirely sure how to proceed from here.

“Trouble in paradise?”

That probably wasn’t the way to go, if you were being honest with yourself.

Wild groans, loud and exaggerated and sits at the table in front of you with as much fan fair.

“Do not...call it that.” He sounds tired.

“Sorry.” You amend with an apologetic shrug. “That-” You reference to the scene outside. “-Didn’t sound ideal.”

“No. It’s not.” Wild sighs and places his face in his hands with his elbows on the table. Bad table manners, a small voice in your head pipes up. But it’s his house, so you bite your tongue.

“Can I ask what it was about?” You hesitatingly venture.

Wild takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “I wanted to live a simple life.” He starts. “Everything was over now, right? That was the idea I had. Defeat the evil and get to finally live as a normal man. Maybe explore more of my home and show Zelda all the cool things I’ve seen and done. Everything I knew, everything I remembered is gone and has been gone for a while. No one alive misses it. No one alive even knows about it. This is the world they were born into and they wouldn’t have it any other way. I was prepared to accept that and join them.”

Your face twists in sympathy as you nod along. “I take it that’s the issue here.”

“When I defeated Calamity Ganon and reunited with Zelda, she seemed so full of hope and purpose.” Wild continues. “I saw it in her eyes. She wanted a different thing to what I wanted.”

“And what’s that?”

Wild gives you a pained look. “Zelda wants to try and rebuild the kingdom. Make it into what she remembers it to be. She wants to strengthen relationships with the other nations and reestablish the royal family and a whole lot of other things that I cannot begin to think of how long it would both take and last considering all the damage that already been done. She wants to be Queen. And over what? Hyrule Kingdom is no more. Can’t be a Queen without a kingdom to rule and there’s not a lot of Hylians left that would agree to being ruled over or even enough of them to count as a kingdom to begin with.”

“I suppose it’s not a bad goal to have but you do make a point.” You try and add to the conversation, feeling wildly out of your depth. “Does she know that you-”

“Yes. And she thinks I’m crazy for it. She thinks that I’ve given up on my friends and the past and the future and- uugghhh.” Wild leaned forward and slams his head on the table with enough force to make you jump.

“That look like it hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I believe you.” A small smile covers your face.

A beat passes before Wild continues to talk with his head still on top of the table. “I don’t think she realizes that I’ve changed after everything. Maybe if I had my memories to begin with, or maybe if I had managed to defeat Calamity Ganon sooner, I’d be more inclined to agree with her, but I’ve experienced so much and done so much that I don’t want to go back to how things were. I’m a different man now.” Wild looks up at you. “She’s different too but I don’t think she’s ready for that conversation.” 

“So you’re stuck with this one?”

“Yes.”

“That sucks man.” You shift in your seat. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not if you can change the past.” He pouts.

“Shame. I’m fresh out of past changing wishing powder.”

“That’s not a thing.” He pouts even more.

You chuckle at the display before sobering up ever so slightly. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“What good will that do?”

“Maybe a third person party has to step in. It could be that it’s because you’re the one who saying that she isn’t listening.” You shrug. “I think you’re right but I’m willing to give her chance to tell her side of the story while you cool down in here. I can be a distraction so you can sneak out quietly and she won’t know you’re here anymore! It’s a win win! And maybe you guys can come to an agreement when you both see each other again with new perspectives.”

Wild gives you another tired look and leans into his hand. “I doubt it would work. Zelda is incredibly stubborn, one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. But if you think it would help, I won’t stop you. I’ve run out of arguments and I’m done hearing hers.”

“Ok.” You say getting up and moving around the table. “I think it’s worth a shot. There’s a saying where I’m from that goes, ‘it’ll all be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, then it’s not the end.’”

You give Wild a hug around his shoulder and squeeze him tight. “I have faith that you’ll pull through and get to live peacefully, but until then, you’ve got us on your side ok?”

He leans in your direction and wraps his arms around your own. “I know. I figured as much.”

“Good man.”

“I’m definitely sneaking out of here though.”

“That’s fair. Go hide.”

“I will... And thanks for listening to me. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Four

"I'm sorry, what?" Four snaps his head up to stare at the Champion.

"What?" Wild tilts his head. "What? There's no stuff in the grass in my Hyrule. Just crickets and lizards...you know normal stuff. I don't know why there's tools and rupees in all of yours."

"You don't-" Four cut himself off with a click of his teeth, a piece in his mind clicking into place. He stands suddenly, clearly upset and tense as he processes the information.

"Four?" You call out to him but he doesn't respond to you, nor does he look back.

"Four!" Hyrule calls as well. "Where are you going?"

No reply.

"I'll go with him. Just in case." You stand up in a rush and nearly knock over the equipment at your feet in the process. "Don't wait up for us."

You follow him.

Four is fast and quiet and it takes very little time to lose him- or rather, for him to lose you.

Before you knew it, there's no trace of him and there's nothing within the forest that would give you a hint to his whereabouts.

"Great." You hiss and look around.

Nothing.

"Four!" If he won't show himself, you'll just have to make some noise. "Four! Four! Show me a sign so I know you're not dead!"

You wait.

"Don't make me get Wolfie!"

Nothing.

"Four!" You scream a little louder and begin to run. Now that you've said it out loud, despite being a joke in the beginning, the thought of Four being dead somewhere spikes your panic and anxiety and it fuels your quest.

It's only been a few minutes and Four can handle himself just fine but you don't think about that.

"FOUR!"

"Why are you screaming?" A voice come just beyond you.

You sprint toward it and find Four in a small clearing, crouched down and appearing to hold something in the palm of his hand.

"I was calling you." You don't know how you find it in you scold him. "A response would have been nice."

"Sorry." He shrugs. "I was having a conversation, it would be rude to drop it."

You get on your tip toes to look around him and find nothing. "With... With what?"

Four looks down into his hand and places it, ever so gently, on the ground, pausing and standing up to see you. "You can't see them?"

"See who?" You step over to him. "Four? Are you ok?"

His face twists in annoyance before sighing. "I'm fine."

"No offence, but I doubt that."

"It... a group of creatures that can only be seen by good children. They were important on my quests and have helped me greatly. Children usually stop seeing them around the time when they turn sixteen."

"Would it be easy for me to chalk it all up to magic?" You bit your lip.

"Probably. If it'll help you sleep at night." Four sighs and looks down to the ground, a small smile on his lips before it twists into a painfully and... he looks seconds from crying.

"I did so much to help them... and they helped me.... They leave gifts in the grass to help travelers and us heroes alike and yet... Wild says it doesn't happen anymore..." Four gulps and looks away from you and what ever is by his foot. "They wouldn't stop.... They're incredibly kind and hospitable and... There's no reason for them... Why are they gone?"

"Four." You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

"What happens to them?" His Adam's apple bobs a bit as he sucks in a breath. "It just means there was no one to help them."

"Oh Four." You pull him into a hug and nearly crush him with it.

"There's nothing I can do to help them, is there?" He sniffles into your chest.

"No, I... I don't think so Four. Not that far out into the future." You shake your head and begin to rub circles on his back.

You don't think he's crying but he might be fighting it because he does begin shaking.

He doesn't say anything else and you're loath to let him go when he's so emotionally charged. So you hold him. You hold him for as long as he needs and you wait for him to pull away first.

When he does, you keep your hands on his shoulders and he stays within your reach. Four begins to take deep calming breaths with his eyes closed and you instinctually run your hands through his bangs and push some of the loose hairs from his face.

Minutes continue to pass and the sounds of nature around you fill the void.

"I'm sorry." You say. "I wish I could help you but I don't know how."

Four nods and rubs his eyes. "I don't doubt that. Thank you. I'll be ok."

You don't think he's ready to go back to the group just yet, not after all that. "Tell me more about these friends of yours. How did they help you? How did you help them? What are they exactly?"

It earns you a small laugh and he grins up at you with a watery smile. "Sit down. And let me tell you about the Picori."

Twilight

“You almost died and for what?!” Twilight screams at Wild for the umpteenth time.

It startles you to hear his voice reach such volumes but you’re inclined to agree with him this time around. After Wild’s stunt with taking a hit to the head for Wind, you’d been on the look out for his more... self sacrificing behavior. You knew he wouldn’t think twice to do it and you tried to make it so there wouldn’t even be a chance for him to make such a decision.

This time though, in this last fight, you took your eyes off of him for only a moment and that’s when he broke his streak of uneventful fights. 

Twilight, of course, is livid and has no regard for the poor creatures of the forest that have to endure his tirade as he unleashes his concern and worry in the form of rage and over exaggerated gestures.

When Hyrule finishes healing your more minor wounds, you slink away from the soon to be screaming match since Wild is very much still conscious, if a little roughed up. You don’t intended to stray as far as you go but you don’t find it in yourself to care for the time being.

Being around so many people for so long is taxing. You make the executive decision to remove yourself for the time being while tensions are high, to both cool off and to avoid getting hit in the crossfire.

There’s a small creek nearby, you find, and decide to make a small space for yourself there until dinner comes rolling around. The birds and the babbling waters calm your soul and snuffle out the last of the adrenaline. You don’t know how long you sit there, but you can faintly hear the screaming match in the distance that you dipped out of.

You don’t regret it.

More time passes and you find that you may or may not have taken a small nap in the meantime. If the position of the sun is anything to go by.

Despite the pain in your back from sleeping against a tree, the slight ache in your neck from the angle you slept in, you feel better. Clearer, even.

You hope your absence wasn’t entirely noticed but you can’t seem to regret leaving either.

Footsteps creep closer to you and you huddle into a small ball out of habit to avoid detection.

It’s Twilight.

He walks near the creek and takes a heavy seat next to it. He looks both pale or red faced at the same time but exhaustion is laced in his entire body from what you can tell.

He doesn’t notice you.

You uncurl and set your legs out in front of you. Leaning forward a little, as quietly as you can, you see that he’s upset. It doesn’t surprise you. But seeing as you don’t how to deal with an upset Twilight and you can’t really sneak away without crossing his line of sight or making any miniscule noise, you still yourself and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Twilight calls your name. Quietly and hollow- like he’s not all there. Or in the way one would talk to a memory.

It’s immediately unsettling. Both in how he sounds and how he knew you were there without you doing anything. But you suppose Twilight can just sense things like that from times to time. It’s certainly not the first time he’s done it.

“I’m here.” You reply.

“How long?”

“A few hours I think. Longer than you were here that’s for sure.” You shrug and slowly crawl out of your hidey hole. “I think I fell asleep....The sun wasn’t over there when I first got here.”

Twilights hums in what you think is agreement but it’s really only a sound. “It’s a nice spot.”

You smile. It’s tense and little fake, but he’s not looking at you so you don’t care for authenticity. “Good thing it’s big enough for the both of us huh?”

“Yeah.” He looked into the distance again, noting that the sun is beginning to set and takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?”

“Can’t say that I have.” You move closer to him, aiming to sit by his side. “I’ve always enjoyed sun sets and I find them calming to watch but hearing someone finding them sad is a new one. Do you feel sad as dusk falls?”

He hums again. “They say it’s the only time their world interacts with ours.”

“Whos?”

“Lingering spirits I suppose...” Twilight tilts his head upwards before twisting it to look at you. “It’s nothing. I’m just reminiscing about my life before my adventure is all. My... father told me those words and I haven’t forgotten them since.”

You hum this time and lean back to mirror him. “Wanna tell me why?”

“That Champion reminds me so much of myself and yet... he’s ten times worse.” Twilight falls backwards with a soft thump. “I know why he does it but I...”

“You care about him and don’t want to see him hurt.” You shrug. “It’s not exactly a new concept.”

“Tell that to him.”

“Maybe I will. He gets just as upset as you do when this happens, you know.” You shift your weight to make it easier to stand up later.

“Does he? You’d think that he’d get the point to stop doing then.” He growls.

“Maybe he’s scared of losing more friends.” You blurt before you can stop yourself. That was something Wild told you in confidence and while he didn’t say you couldn’t tell anyone- that was kinda implied.

Twilight stills for a moment, the fight leaving him again in a single breath as he considers your words. They don’t seem to be new news to him.

Wild is pretty close to Twilight...Maybe he already knew.

“I still think I’m entitled to not like it.” He settles.

“It’s not he’s asking you to be ok with it. I know I’m not.” 

“I guess that’s fair then.” Twilight sits up again and stands up in one fluid motion that you envy. With a turn on his heel, he holds his hand out to you to take.

You take it and feel him effortlessly lift you off of the ground with that one hand.

You don’t comment on it.

“Come on.” He says. “I’m going to need you for moral support.”

“Why?”

“If I yelled in front of him of the whole group, I should apologize to him in front of the whole group.” He admits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “But I might need an excuse to get close to him again after all the things I’ve said.”

“I get your desert and you’ve got yourself a deal. I left to not get involved and here you are... involving me.” You tease. “I demand payment.”

“One desert? I can do that.”

Hyrule

“I can’t do this.” You snap your head to the sound of the voice and see Hyrule with his arms cross and shaking.

“What? What’s happening? Hyrule?” You step closer to him as you’re the only one within arms reach. “What do I need to do? How can I help?”

“There’s nothing. Nothing you can do, that can make this better.” Hyrule takes one ground step before throwing his arms down. “Don’t you see them? With all their tools and experience and then there’s- me. Just me. Some magic later and a old man with a sword and I found myself trying to save my princess and defeat some evil, but these guys...”

You look around, trying to see if Legend or Sky are close enough to give you back up, or better yet, take over. You suppose it’s better than a panic attack but it’s so left field that you’re stunned and floundering to catch this hot potato of a conversation.

He keep talking.

“For all that is good and holy, they are heroes. Do you see them? Some of them have training, and families and skills and I....was just a boy in a grave yard. How can I even compete with them? I don’t, that’s how. But how can they consider me an equal? When I was in town and listened to the elders and their stories, they would tell me of a legendary hero from the past who courageously defended our home until the very end and who was virtually undefeated in all his adventures. And then I meet Legend....and he’s so much cooler than all those stories combined.”

“Link.” You call out to him and back to the real world. “You need to slow down for me honey because you’re too fast for me to keep up. What do you mean how can they see you as an equal? You defeated Ganon just as they did. You stood up for your home just as they did. You did it all on your own just as they did. Why wouldn’t they consider you an equal? No one cares about where you’re from, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“But they can do so many things even without the sword!” He exclaims. “They all have a place to go to, a person who cares about them, a title or a skill and a world that’s not on the brink of collapse-”

“Ok, whoa, hey.” You step into his space and take his face into your hands, bringing it up for him to look you in the eyes.

“I have no idea what brought this up but I won’t stand for anyone talking bad about you. And that includes you. We... can talk about your home with clearer heads later, ok? Maybe the others can help with that when we get there, yeah? And well....” You’re sinking. You don’t know what to do with all this information and you have even less of an idea about how to address it.

“Good golly, when it rains, it pours with you lot, doesn’t it?” You hiss under your breath and bite the bullet. With a strong grip, you wrap your arms around the Traveler and pull him close. You try to keep your grip strong without fear of hurting him, but it hits you then how thin he is. How light he actually is. You can feel the hint of armor under his tunic and it does little to quell your fears.

“Clearly there’s a lot on your mind. And... I’m probably not the person to help you through this. If you want to talk about not belonging though, I’m free to listen. I’m the only one here who’s not a Link, if you haven’t noticed.” You try to joke but it falls a little flat. “You though... You belong here with all of us... all of them... And if you need more convincing then I’m bringing this up with Legend who’s is over the moon proud of you and what you can do and he told me himself that he couldn’t be happier to have you as his successor-”

“Really?”

“Not in those exact words admittedly,-” You gulp as the word vomit continues to bubble out of you in waves of panic. “-but I know that’s what he meant because he doesn’t stop talking about how cool you are.”

“Hm.”

“And everyone has a different background, ok? Everyone has skills and people that the others don’t have. That’s ok. It’s not a competition. I get worried that one day you guys are going to create some game out of all your trauma. Like... who had it worse and just go around in a circle listing off all the things that happened to each of you... Whoever runs out of things to say or can’t think of something as bad or worse than the others is out. Last man standing wins.”

“Don’t give them ideas.” You feel him chuckle. It’s breathless and small and it doesn’t reach your ears despite your closeness but you feel it.

“Good thing it’s just you and me right now.” You sigh a little in relief and loosen the hug. “Look, just.....whatever you think you can’t do, just know that there is someone who is confidently doing it wrong right now. In the group or not, just keep your eyes and watch. They don’t plan on doing it better either and people are celebrating them for it. Please believe in your own excellence as much as they believe in their mediocrity.”

“Big words.”

“You’re awesome for trying. Others are not and don’t plan to. You’re already better than them.” You amend, stepping away to look him in the eye again. “The group can’t do magic like you can. That’s all you. They all have items sure but no one can do what you do... and you’re self taught, right? That’s incredible! You have just as much as a reason to be here as the others. I swear it.”

Hyrule sighs and gulps. He doesn’t believe you. It’s not enough.

You knew it wouldn’t be and it’s definitely doesn’t scratch the tip of the iceberg of the bomb he just dropped on you but... step by step. Little by little. you have a plan.

“Screw it. Let’s catch up with Wind and Warrior and get them to tell you how awesome you are, since you won’t listen to me. And if you’re still a nonbeliever then we move on to the next pair. We’ll go down the line if we have to.” You nod and grab his hand, beginning to drag him along.

He laughs after you, a little hysterical and in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

“That is not new information.” You reply, hiding your grin. “I say it’s Hyrule loving hours and I’m gonna get everyone to join.”

“You’re not joking are you.” It’s a statement. He already knows the answer.

“Nope!”

Legend

It was your turn on watch for the night. In an hour or two you were supposed to wake the Veteran for his shift and finally catch some sleep.

The others snored and slept away without a care in the world. It was just you and cackling fire that was active but you’d kill for something to help your mind get passed the boredom.

Anything but monsters or an attack that is. You’d hate to jinx your good luck so far.

In the corner of your eye, while fighting to keep your head up, you see Legend shift. Not necessarily unusual. You’re inclined to ignore it.

But then he shifts again, whimpering like he’s been hurt and a white knuckled grip on the blanket.

You still and begin to wonder what’s your level of care here.

Part of you, in kindness, wants to go wake him. The lack of sleep seems more merciful than letting him suffer a prison of his own making.

But you also don’t know how he’ll react.

You know he’d hate to be seen as weak for whatever normal reason and he’s been inclined to wake up swinging in the right circumstance.

Twilight suffered a broken nose for the whole night because he was disinclined to wake up Hyrule or take a potion.

Not you’d make the same decision and suffer the whole night in the same manner but it certainly fails to sound appealing.

Just as your about to appeal to your better nature and force yourself to go wake him before it gets worse, he shoots up into a sitting position with a strangled scream. The job seems to have been done for you- but in the worse way.

He’s breathing hard with his hand gripping his chest. Legend begins to frantically look around and slowly begins to piece together where he is and what’s happened. He never looks behind him, where you are, before running a hand through his hair a little harder than you think reasonable and getting to his feet.

You cough slightly, leaning away from the fire and back into previous position. You hadn’t realized you leaned into his direction as you watched him, inches from putting your face into the flame.

He startles at the sound and whips around, one hand poised to reach the sword he’s not equipped with.

“It’s just me.” You wave. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He calms somewhat and you can see his jaw flex. “Well, goodnight to you.”

His voice is croaked- from disuse or an overwhelming emotion, you’re not sure.

“For me maybe. But you? That was quite a scare you gave me as well.” You play it off. You can at least pretend that you weren’t watching him. That you would have saved him a little earlier and took your sweet time doing it. You offer a peace offering to your morals. “Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” He snaps, furiously rubbing his face. “It’s nothing new. We all deal with it one way or another.”

“True. But it’ll be easier to let it go, and let the experience float up into the air and never return. Otherwise it’ll fester and grow.” You shrug. “But I won’t force you. I know you’re not exactly fond of me.”

Legend glares into the fire as you talk and refuses to look at you. Once you finish though, he moves his head away, still not in your direction but visually drops more tension from his shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything.

“There’s a spot next to me with your name on it if you want it.” You offer. “A little company wouldn’t hurt.”

He takes more time to respond and you resolve to go back to staring at the fire.

A moment or two passes and you hear the faint sound of crunched foliage. It takes of your will power to not look up as he approaches and even more so when he decidedly sits next to you.

The fabric of his tunic brushes your leg for a minute and it strikes you odd that he sat that close despite the rest of the log at his disposal.

It must have been bad if he wants to be close to someone right after. The thought enters your mind. Once it’s there you don’t chase it away and instead casually lean back with your hand behind you.

If the angle causes you to lean closer to him in the process, you don’t say anything. 

And if Legend notices, he doesn’t say anything either.

A moment of time passes in silence, the only sounds through the whole forest are crickets and a passing owl with the occasional whisper through the trees.

“How do you do it?” He asks.

“Do what?” You tilt your head in his direction.

He’s still not looking at you.

“Keep going.”

The answer shocks momentarily but you’re not surprised that it’s coming from him out of the whole group. “Legend-”

“I’m tired.” He says instead. “I hate this. I hate that sword. I hate that pig demon. I hate that I can’t be done.”

You hand comes up to his shoulder and you force him to look at you. 

He lets you and he looks up to you with tears building up in his eyes and for a moment you’re struck by the odd balance of how old he sounds but how young he looks- is.

You stuck floundering for a response to answer him with but he asks one more thing. “Why can’t I be done?”

You pull him into a hug before you can stop yourself. “I don’t know. I don’t know Link.”

You find yourself wanting to cry as well once Legend collapses into the hug. He’s not hugging you back but he’s being held for the first time in... you don’t know how long. Your grip tightens.

“But I do know is that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And maybe....maybe this is the final fight. That’s why we’re all together right? A darkness so evil ahead that every hero is required and then....rest. For each and every one of you.”

You sniffle, carding your fingers through his hair without a moments hesitation. “If it’s not then I’ll fight everything for you from then on. I’ll take your place you hear me. I’ll take your job and title and you won’t have to do this anymore.”

“I’m the Hero of Legend. That’s not exactly an easy thing-”

“No. I am the hero now. I’ve decided it.” You hide the tears in his hair to the best of your ability.

Legend snorted, loud and wet but you elected to ignore it just as you were ignoring the ever growing wet spot on your shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It does now. I said so.”

A beat.

“...Ok.” He sniffled and rubbed his head on your shirt. He took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the night take over the atmosphere again. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He nods once, definitive and final. Your expecting him to let go now and return to his roll, already electing to take over his shift as well and just push through the next day.

Except he doesn’t.

Legend calls your name, testing the waters and lifts his head up ever so slightly. “...It’s not that I’m... not... fond of you-”

“Save it for a rainy day.” You grin. “I think you’ve had your fill of emotions for the night.”

He nods and eventually slips into sleep with his head on your chest, no doubt lulled by your heartbeat.

With tearful eyes, you stare back into the fire.

Time

Time marched from the stunned group the same way a parent does after making a scathing remark instead of a lecture.

You know the one. 

“I’m not mad. Just disappointed.”

The poor boys suddenly didn’t know what to so with themselves or how to get back into Time’s good graces.

You felt for them and their awkward meandering through the camp. So, with your pride swallowed, you follow in the vague direction where Time went off to and decided to at least talk him down.

He is... decidedly harder to find than you previous imagined.

Just as your starting to think the Old Man doesn’t want to be found, you hear subtle swing. It’s to your left and it sounds heavy.

So naturally you follow it

Which leads you to a small clearing just beyond a bunch of bushes.

Time is there, full armor still on and swinging his giant sword forcefully, each swing stronger than the last. It’s as if it weighs only as much as Four. You’ve wondered in the past what it would like if he decided to actually throw the smallest ones of the group but out of fear, do not voice your ideas.

Just because Time won’t doesn’t mean that the others won’t try.

It’s hard being the responsible one when there are nine Links to take care of, each as much as a gremlin as the last. It must be hell on Time’s back to carry the group.

You see where he’s coming from and yet...

“You can stand to be a little more patient with them.” 

The words are out of your mouth before you can actually stop them.

Time stops abruptly, in both the figurative and literal sense, before the man turns to you with that same face of neutral disappointment.

“They are heroes.”

“They are also children, Time. I think that it’s because they are heroes that they deserve to act their age every now and then.”

“Slacking won’t divert the evil away from our home.”

“Running face first into the problem won’t solve it either.” You sigh and walk up the man. He tenses as you approach and slowly lets his weapon down. The Hero of Time is an intimidating creature but you refuse to let that dissuade you.

“Look, I know why you’re upset. I get it. It’s hard to get a job done when you feel like you’re the only one it’s important to... But have a little faith in our group. Please.” You plead and stop right in front of him. You have to look up at him slightly due to the angle but he was forced to acknowledge you here.

His arms cross and he opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off.

“You’re right, they are heroes and there is a job to be done and an evil to be done away with. But they were even younger when they earned the title. They still vanquished the darkness even for their age. You have to trust that they will do the same here.” You reach up and put your hands on his shoulders, getting onto your tip toes to look him in the eye better. “And they will. Because they are heroes. Because they have the spirit of courage. Because they are Link... Just like you.”

He softens his stance ever so slightly but he still doesn’t look pleased.

“It’s not easy I know.” You get down again. “But they look up to you. I think all of them do. And I can’t stand to see how hurt they look when you get upset when they act their age. It’s not like they can help it.”

He takes a deep breath and uncrossed his arms. He takes a minute to respond. Time stared at you intensely before he drops all the tension in his body and finally lets his weapon go. A single hand comes up to pat your head. 

“Let’s head back to camp.”

He says nothing else and continues to walk past you and back the way you came.

You don’t ignore the sense of accomplishment and refuse to dampen it when you catch the tiniest slivers of a smile before he turns away from you completely.

Wind

You’re lying peacefully on the dirt when you hear someone sit beside you with more power than would ever be needed.

You don’t open your eyes for the sake of the other person, not really thinking much of it and even forgetting that they were there until you heard the smallest of sniffles.

Now, you’re sitting straight up with wide and concerned eyes locking directly onto the crying form of your beloved pirate. 

It’s hard not to feel for him and while you’re not sure what sprung this up, you don’t have it in you to turn him away, or to ignore that he was upset.

Neither of you say anything and you’re almost afraid it make the picture in front of you a little too real.

Instead, you move yourself closer to him and open up your arms.

Wind doesn’t hesitate to throw himself onto you and let his body sag with unwanted emotion.

As sobs silently rack his body, you begin to feel yourself rock back and forth for both his comfort and yours. Soon you start running your hands through his hair and rub small circles on his back. 

He cries for a long time and never once gives you a clue why.

You don’t ask either.

Still, once the moment has passed, you continue to hold onto him. He doesn’t make any moves to let go of you any time soon and you’re happy to be there for as long as he’ll let you.

That doesn’t stifle your concern over the cause but you’re loath to bring it up.

Minutes pass with the boy in your arms and it’s only when you shift positions, does he look up at your face. His eyes aren’t as red anymore with the amount of time that’s passes since he’s stopped crying but his face is still a little puffy and his cheeks are both stained in tears and incredibly red.

A small smile creeps onto your face when you look back at him. “Feel better?”

“A little.” He admits and sniffles the last of the tears away, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Thanks.”

“For you? Anytime.”

Warrior

It struck you as odd that it was dinner time the group seemed to be missing someone.

Earlier that day the group had split up to take down some troublesome monsters on the border of some tiny town defenseless town and that was that.

It didn’t seem like big deal nor was it a particularly hard thing to do. The monsters weren’t infected and they didn’t have numbers on their side so your group took care of the pests in a matter of moments.

And yet, when everyone regrouped there was a visible tension.

Some thing had happened on the other side of the fight and no one wanted to fess up, even less so when Time mentioned it.

It worried you.

Now, as it stood the tension was still there but Warrior didn’t want to come out of the wood work.  He had left earlier claiming to need to check up on his appearance and no one had questioned him. No one offered to go with him.

It was always dangerous to go alone.

“Hey, has anyone seen Warrior?” You glance around again, hoping it was just a miscount on your part. “It’s been awhile since he left.”

“He takes his sweet time.” Legend snapped. “And you know how narcissistic he is. He’s probably trying to get every single little hair in the right place and working out every little blemish in his stupid uniform-”

“I’m going to look to him.” You stand, placing your cooling food down by your foot. You don’t know what happened or what caused it but at least an idea begins to form. “It’s been too long regardless. Keep my food warm for me, yeah?”

You don’t wait for a response and walk away into the tree line where you think Warrior might be.

“It’s getting dark. Be careful.” Someone calls from behind you, mouth clearly full of food.

“Yes sir.” You reply.

You march on.

When you’re sure you’re far enough away, you begin to call out to Warrior.

It takes a minute to get any results but you’re starting to worry about your friend. The sun is lowering in the horizon as time goes by and you’re beginning to feel silly and frustrated and-

“I’m here.” A tired voice replies.

“Oh thank goodness.” You cross the distance between you two. “I was really starting to worry.”

Warrior puts on a brave face and a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes greets you when you stop in front of him. His look a little puffy and you think his eyes might be a little red but it easily be the lighting- or lack there of.

“Are you ok?”

“Obviously.”

You doubt him and it must have shown on your face because he immediately begins walking away. “Well look at the time. Crazy how fast the sun goes. Let’s get back to the group and eat. I’m starving-”

You grab his wrist as he pasts you and get a good look at him. “Are you ready to go back to the group? They can wait a little longer if you want them too.”

It irritated you that it’s come to this. How no one went to check on him. How no one offered to go with you. How no one seemed bothered by this. How long that he was alone dealing with something that’s been bothering him. How it took you so long to do something.  

“No. It’s fine.” He says. Lying. It must have really bothered him, usually he’s better than this. “It’s about time to head back anyway.”

“They can wait.” Your grip tightens. “The sun can wait. We’re not obligated to be there. What’s wrong? ...If you want to talk about it that is...” You trail off uselessly. It only occurred to you that near the end that he may not even speak about with you. You weren’t the closest in terms of grouping but you can’t stand the thought of someone hurting alone.

“I’m fin-”

“You look like you were crying.” You cut him off. “If you don’t want to talk about it with me, that’s fine, just say it. But you might need more time before you head back anyway if you actually want them to believe you when you say you’re fine.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Warrior?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“If it bothers you then it’s not nothing.”  You push. “But....fine. I won’t force you to talk to me. I just wanted to see if you were ok... You’re not but it’s better than seeing you bleeding I suppose.” You grit your teeth, annoyed by the lack of results. You did tell him that he didn’t have to talk to you and you don’t hurt him further but part of you wants to fix this. Even if you don’t know what it is, your heart calls for justice at his pain.

But he is unwilling.

“Camp is this way by the way.” You mention, looking at the ground. “You were actually farther away than I thought, so it’s a bit of a walk.”

“I just think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.”

You still and slowly turn to face him. 

He’s looking at the ground as well, unable to say it and look you in the eye. It’s not what you were expecting and you’re not sure how to follow after that.

It’s a rare moment of vulnerability for him- even rarer that he’s showing it to you and you don’t want to squander the show of trust.

“Back home...there was a lot of... attention on me. A lot of blame... for starting the war. Or at least being the cause of it.” He admits, scuffing his shoe against the dirt. A little bit kicks up and sticks to the toe. He does nothing about it. “People listened to what I had to say because I was some destined hero. At first I didn’t think anything of it because I had thought it was one big mistake and sooner or later people were going to see that I was just some soldier not worth the time of day. It happened to be pure luck that Impa got it right when she gave me this uniform. Zelda made me a captain because of it and suddenly I had all of these men I had to give orders to. And if anything failed or if we lost, it would all have fallen on me. The blame, the guilt, the responsibility of the war...and then we found out why Cia was even opening these portals to begin with-”

You hug him.

“Please don’t cry.” You say into his chest. Your throat is tight and it a little hard to breath but you power through. “I’m not good at this. I never have been.”

“I’m not going to cry. It’s not worth crying.”

“I’ll cry for you then.” You admit and hug him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was no ones fault.” Warrior hugs you back and rests his head on top of yours. His voice seems a little tight too and you’re sorry for all the things that he must have gone through. 

You hug him for as long as you deem appropriate before letting your arms go lack and stepping away.

Or... at least you try to.

Warrior suddenly has a grip on you and refuses to let you leave.

“Please... Just stay a little longer.”

You do.

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter xv

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N for this chapter: this is 3.2k of unedited drama and I am so fucking proud of it. I wrote this entire thing today, and it’s easily one of the pieces I’m most proud of. So I haven’t been able to fit a proper conversation between the reader and Harlan - I couldn’t make the scene justified if his presence was there, since he does seem to be the one thing that keeps the family on the line - but that means I had some ideas of how I can make up for it in the future! Extra chapter? Perhaps. We are approaching the end though. I only have two more chapter planned for this fic and an epilogue. We’ll see how that goes!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Hey!” I got into the car excited to see him again, but I tried to reason with myself that it was all because of his visit to his grandfather’s publishing company, of course. I wanted to know how that went and I was curious as to what Harlan’s plans were, that was mostly it.

The fact that I had genuinely missed the man by my side after spending just four hours away from him had very little to do with it, or so I tried to tell myself. I didn’t know how to deal with depending so much on someone yet.

But I was trying to.

Ransom’s silence alerted me that something was different. I stopped trying to fix myself to look to the side and find him staring out the window, face expressionless and eyes void of any sentiment.

“Ransom, what’s wrong?” Reaching over, I squeezed his thigh to get his attention, and he jerked as if he was genuinely surprise by my presence in the small vehicle. “You look stressed,” I clarified, eyebrows furrowed in worry as I reached over to push away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place.

He just stared at me for a while and still I couldn’t read what he was thinking. Was he mad at me? Had I done something wrong? After what felt like eternity, he sighed, gripping the steering wheel as he looked on his lap and admitted, “I’m gonna have to go to this family dinner on Friday.”

Immediately, I breathed deeply in relief, suddenly realizing just how worried I actually was that his mood had something to do with me. But then I was reminded of the little that Ransom had told me about this family - even that little felt like too much.

I could only imagine the anxiety he was feeling, and my heart ached to soothe him as best as I could. “Do you want me to go with you?” I asked, running my digits over his nape calmly, keeping my voice as soft as possible to help him relax.

Still, his head snapped up so he could meet my eyes, his wide as two saucers as he struggled to process what I’d said. “… You’d do that?” He sounded so surprised, so genuinely shocked by my offer, that I couldn’t stop myself from giggling, taking both of his hands on mine and squeezing them gently.

“Of course I would, honey.” Ransom’s eyes were so soft as they stared into mine, even as my heart doubled its size in its effort to reach out for his, I found myself justifying, “You went with me to see my parents!”

The way his smile dropped at my explanation had me feeling cold and empty, desperate to see him look at me the same way he was doing only seconds ago.

“Besides,” I forced myself to admit it, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt while I opened my heart to him. “I-I don’t want you to go through that alone. I wanna be there for you, like you were for me.”

Immediately, I felt rewarded on my effort to open up by the smile he gave me. “Thank you, baby.” He squeezed my hand this time, and when he leaned over and connected our lips on a quick peck, my heart skipped a beat.

I was in love with this man.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

I sighed as we stood in front of my grandfather’s front door, trying to adjust my sweater that suddenly felt uncomfortable. Beside me, she seemed to be doing the exact same thing, fingers pulling on the end of the dress she was wearing, making me smile.

The dress highlighted her bump - it was now undeniable that she was pregnant and even if I’d never been particularly attracted to women in this stage of life, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her now.

It was like she shined from within. Her beauty amazed me, and so when she noticed me staring and stopped fiddling with her clothes, straightening herself up to ask, “Do I look okay?” I had to stop myself from laughing.

“Yes.” More than okay. “But are you sure you won’t be cold?” We’d gone through this argument before leaving the house, so I was prepared to see her rolling her eyes as she reached out to take my hand in hers.

“Unless your family has the habit of dining outdoors regardless of the weather, I think we’ll be alright.” I chuckled, rubbing my thumb on the back of her hand, but it sounded nervous even to my own ears. It didn’t surprise me that she noticed it. “Are you ready?” She questioned, voice in that soothing tone she used whenever she noticed my stress.

“Not at all,” I admitted, but in all honesty, the prospect of joining my family for dinner didn’t seem as bad as it usually did. Not with her by my side.

“I’m here for you.” Hearing her say those words meant more to me than I was able to properly express at that moment so I just stared at her, taking in the fact that this incredible person actually cared about me.

“Just… don’t leave me alone, okay?” Her immediate nod had me smiling. It prompted me to once again lean over and connect our lips, only this time, when I tried to pull away, she kept me close with her hand on the back of my neck.

Who knows where this kiss might have led us if the door hadn’t open right at that moment, revealing my lousy uncle who stared from me to her with wide eyes?

“… She’s pregnant? With your baby?” A groan was all I could muster as a response, tugging her into the house with me. “When were you going to tell your family?”

“For fuck’s sake,” I cursed, looking around the living room for the bar. “Where’s the goddamn alcohol?” There was no way I’d be able to survive this night without it, as much as I wanted to be supportive of Y/N.

“I think that’s a bottle of scotch,” I heard her whispering next to me, pointing towards a corner of the room, and I sighed in relief at her understanding.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

An hour into the evening and I had already understood why Ransom was the way that he was - and why he liked his grandfather so much, despite how he felt about the rest of the family.

Harlan was gentle where all of his children were… prickly. In fact, he was the only one who addressed me at all, but I found myself feeling grateful for it, since when the dinner actually started, I wanted the rest of the family to forget about me completely.

“I am so sorry,” Harlan apologized, rubbing his hands nervously as he stared at the rest of the family who was walking towards the dining room. “I sleep early, everyone knows that, but this is the only time they could all gather and since they didn’t know you were coming…”

I waved away his apologies, offering him a hug as I wished him good night. “Just as long as you’ve had your dinner, Harlan. Thanks for welcoming me into your home.”

He accepted my embrace easily, taking advantage of the proximity to whisper in my ear, “Just hang on to him, dear. I promise it’ll be worth it.” I smiled when we parted, nodding in confirmation to his words.

“It already is,” I assured him, but he only sighed.

“Make sure to remember that during dinner…” Now I understood why. It started with a simple question, one of the maids offered me some meat, and when I hesitated to answer…

“God, are you daft, girl? Have you never eaten lamb?” My eyes widened in surprise, but before Ransom could have the chance to throw himself at his mother, I just squeezed his thigh.

“I was going to ask her if there was any oregano in the sauce. It’s been making me feel sick.” I didn’t need to add why - the reminder of my situation, of what led me to be there with them in this dining room was very clear in me.

And still, that didn’t stop them.

“That’s a pretty necklace…” Ransom’s father commented before we could even grab a bite. I chuckled to myself, immediately catching onto what he wasn’t saying.

“Thanks, I got it at a little boutique back home. It was a gift for myself after I got my first paycheck.” I could feel Ransom’s gaze on me, the waves of pride rolling from him in waves. It made me smile, but it was just the calm before the storm.

“Ransom, have you contacted a lawyer?”  This question came from his uncle’s wife, Donna - I think that’s what she was called. Not that she tried to introduce herself to me or anything, but Harlan made sure I knew everyone’s name as soon as I stepped inside the house.

“Why?” Ransom’s tone was vicious and his squinted eyes alerted everyone that he was prepared for a strike, but the fact that he still hadn’t anticipated what was coming almost made me laugh.

Even Donna herself hesitated, unbelieving that he was going to make her say it. “There’s no way you’re that stupid.” And just like that, the doors to hell were opened up.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but then again, was I really surprised?

“You should make sure to draw a prenup,” Donna insisted, while the rest of the family pretended not to hear, undoubtedly coming up with their own ways to insult Y/N. “Something that will assure only your kid has access to your money.”

I could hear Y/N quietly laughing to herself next to me, but while she was able to find the irony in the situation amusing, all I felt was blinding rage.

“God, do you even hear the shit you say? I never asked for your input, this, right here, is precisely why I didn’t tell any of you all about my baby.” I saw Y/N flinch from the corner of my eyes before I heard my mother’s fork drop against the precious porcelain dish she was pretending to eat from. I knew this was the sorest topic of discussion for her. I knew this was why she had been pretending Y/N wasn’t even there, hadn’t even been invited to dinner with me.

“Fair enough,” she spoke, lying back against her chair as she finally raised her eyes to meet mine. “I don’t know if we even should learn anything about this child, considering it most likely isn’t even yours.”

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice over me. Y/N was oddly quiet now, seemingly as frozen as me - and when I realized that, my anger returned with twice its power.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I warned, just as my mother retorted, “Don’t you talk like that to me.” I didn’t even have the chance to talk back when she stroke again. “You fuck so many ransom desperate chicks, I’m surprised this is the first you knocked up.”

This was as insulting to her as it was to me, and it also struck a chord in me because of how I feared this was just reinforcing Y/N’s views of me. “Don’t say shit like that,” I threatened, to no avail. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Ransom…” Her sweet voice tried to intervene, but I was too far gone to hold myself back now. I couldn’t stand the thought that I was hurting her because I was the reason she was here in the first place.

“You know nothing about her, and yet you feel comfortable judging her,” I continued, ignoring her completely. “She’s a lawyer, actually. You would know it if you had even bothered to talk to her. If there was ever the need for a prenup, I’d have her draw it.”

Maybe they thought I’d stop at that - I thought so myself, until I realized there was still so much I wanted to get out, and I was going to do that now.

“And you know what? I trust her more than I trust you, and I came out of you. So maybe you should consider that before you attack the one person I try to introduce to my family.” I hated everything about this. I hated how they still managed to get to me, how the fact that my own mother, who I didn’t even respect, still managed to make me feel inadequate about the one thing in my life that made me excited.

I knew I’d always lose with them. They just had this way of inciting the beast in me - they brought out the worst in me, and I felt helpless to fight it.

“Okay, so she’s not some random skank,” my uncle oh-so-helplessly interrupted, immediately making me want to punch him in his stupid face. “But this just means she’s the one playing you.”

“Oh, shut up!” I threw my hands up, pushing my chair away from the table, fully intended to storm out of the room until Meg was the one who stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Did you even get a paternity test, Ransom?” She seemed almost uncomfortable to voice it, eyes darting from me to Y/N, but I could read her apologetic smile perfectly.

She just didn’t want someone else to get Harlan’s attention and interest because that would potentially mean less money to each and everyone of the people in this room, as he’d add one more person to his aid list.

My father took advantage of what Meg said, waving in her direction. “Don’t you know how important this family is? How quickly she could rise in any job because of a connection to us?”

My mother scoffed, finally ready to interfere again. “Knowing she’s actually smart leaves me even more surprised that you’ve relented and decided to become someone’s little plaything until this baby pops out. I’m assuming a few months with a screaming kid and you’re just gonna abandon her anyway. Which is fine by me, I won’t have to pretend to be a grandmother for long.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

All I could think was how grateful I was that I had accompanied him to this dinner tonight. As I watched his chest heaving with fury, I could not imagine how he would have felt having to deal with all of this on his own.

“Ransom,” I tried to catch his attention, pulling him back to his seat. “Ransom, it’s okay,” I tried to appease him, but he was too fucking gone to care.

“No, it’s not okay, he pushed my hand away, getting up from his chair to lean over the table, both hands on top of it as he stared at his mother.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled, making me flinch, although Linda hardly seemed bothered by it.

Then, much to my surprise, Ransom straightened up, running a hand through his hair as an emotionless chuckle escaped him. “No, you know what? You’re right. You’re not gonna be a grandmother. I’m gonna be a father, Harlan’s gonna be a great-grandfather, but that’s it. I’m not gonna keep taking your shit anymore, Linda, you know why? Even if this child wasn’t mine, I’d still want her and this kid.”

My heartbeat pumped out of control as he continued, “She’s not just someone who’s carrying my child. I care about her. And if you can’t respect her, than I guess I was right in keeping this pregnancy from you.”

I held my breath as Ransom apparently caught his, my head swirling with the different emotions running through me - my infatuation for this man, who had so fiercely defended me from his entire family, the adrenaline from witnessing such a vicious argument.

I truly believed this would be the end of it. I didn’t know where they could go from here - that was, of course, until Linda decided to attack him.

“Oh, and you think you’re going to be so great with it?” My blood boiled when her words turned against her own son so easily. Attack me and my dignity? That was okay, these people didn’t know me.

But seeing her attack Ransom was just too much for me.

“Do you think she’ll want to keep you around once she realizes she’ll be raising two children with you to weigh her down?” Ransom visibly faltered, like she had slapped him, and that’s when I had enough. “You’ll never be able to give her the emotional support that she needs and you know that.”

I rose to my feet at that, holding onto my lower back as I softly slapped Ransom’s back in an attempt to calm him down. “I got this, babe.” He was so surprised - and still so hurt by his mother’s statements - that he didn’t even try to stop me. In fact, I think he didn’t even realize what was going on until I turned to Linda and started talking.

“Do you really think that poorly of your son that you can’t believe he has anything to offer in a relationship?” Now she was the one who looked up at me with an expression that looked like I had physically hurt her.

“Is it that unbelievable to you, that someone would be able to like him for him?” She didn’t seem to be able to find anything to answer to me, and when I turned to Richard, I was also met with silence.

Ransom’s P.O.V.

“Well, I do,” she announced, like it was the single most obvious thing, the simplest fact to deduce in the world, while I stood back watching her with my mouth hanging open. “I like him enough to be willing to open up to him even if one day he might leave me because to me, he is worth any possibility of future pain.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d never had anyone defend me like this, not even Harlan - not even my parents, when I was a kid and the bigger children decided to bully me.

No, back then all I got was a talk about how “real men don’t cry” and if my father ever caught me cowering from someone else again he’d give me a real reason to be afraid.

“And I do say possibility,” she continued, not having raised her voice for even a second and still to effortlessly able to catch the attention of everyone in the room, assure herself the ground to speak her mind without the fear of interruptions. “Because Ransom’s actions have never given me any reason to think that outcome is even remotely probable.”

“So maybe you think about your own opinions of your son’s character and see if they don’t reflect your own more than they reflect his actions.” She turned around after that, tiny hand encircling my wrist as she began to yank me in the direction of the front door.

“Let’s go.”

[peachyteez]

 harmless pranks ≫ DAY ONE, WOOYOUNG?!

this mischevious dolphin hybrid escaped an illegal experiment lab and has wandered the ocean for almost a year. all he longed for was love and attention—maybe even a family. who knew his “little” prank on jiyu would be the beginning to all of his wishes being granted.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @kpopnightingale, @rosesarethebest, @stillcantfindaproperusername, @bonbonhwa, @its-sarah-stark, @sanismybb, @frankenstein852, @peachseok, @woopetals, @exhofayemars, @pvrkacciosan, 

✧ can’t be tagged: @alienmashup, @c-sanshine, @int0chae

✧ notes: surprise! i know i scheduled the release for may 7th, but thought i’d release it a little early :)

next。

“i can’t believe you’re up and leaving us for a month,” yeonjun sarcastically commented while helping her lug her last luggage into the mercedes van that sunwoo had been so generous enough to send to pick them up. “and from the looks of it, it doesn’t look like soobin, beomgyu, and taehyun are going to let go of the others.”

and true to his word, she looked over to see them gathered in a group hug. beomgyu clung onto yunho with teary eyes, he’s never been separated from him for a month before. yunho gently pat the younger puppy’s head with a small smile. 

she chuckled at the heartwarming scene. “guys, you’ll still be able to call and facetime. and you’re acting like we’re never coming back! we’re only going to jeju island.”

“but what if you run away with this person because they’re rich?” beomgyu asked, ignorant to her background. at his question, the other boys gasped and whipped their heads over to her. 

her smile slightly faltered, forgetting that they don’t know of her origins. she knew she’d have to come clean someday—maybe this trip was the right time to tell. 

“don’t be ridiculous, of course we are,” she gently reprimanded before coming over to ruffle beomgyu’s hair. “beomgyu’s imagination is just running a tad bit wild.”

pouting, beomgyu shifted from yunho to engulf her in a bear hug. 

“soobin and i’ll make sure beomgyu doesn’t grow any grey hairs while worrying about you guys,” taehyun jokingly reassured. he knew beomgyu well enough, even though he was an addition to the family a month ago.  

“miss, it’s about time to depart to the airport,” the driver informed with a bow. 

with a nod, she rubbed beomgyu’s head. “okay, we need to go now, bub. we’ll message you when we get there, okay?”

reluctantly nodding, beomgyu let her go. he joined soobin, taehyun, and yeonjun to see them off, waving until they not longer saw the black vehicle. 

in the car, yunho, mingi, san, and yeosang were fascinated with how fancy the interior was. there were two rows of two seats, and row with three seats in the back. the seats were so comfortable, and it was so roomy; an environment unfamiliar to the hybrids. while seonghwa and yunho knew somewhat of her background, the others wondered how she managed to afford something like this. 

“is your friend rich?” san asked, looking back to face jiyu. seating arrangements were decided by an intense game of rock-paper-scissors. in the end, yeosang and hongjoong sat in front, mingi and san were in the middle row, and jiyu was squished in between yunho and seonghwa in the back. 

“that’s one way of putting it, yes.” in truth, she was worried about how they would react to her and sunwoo’s background. most of them had come from influential families or illegal organizations to begin with. having terrible memories with them, would they change once they knew who she really was?

“but don’t worry, he’s really nice! he has a hybrid friend of his own, too. i think he said a german shepard hybrid.” yunho seemed to perk up at the thought of meeting another dog hybrid. 

“hm...if you say so. if you trust him, then we do, too,” hongjoong said before getting comfortable in the seat. 

upon arriving at the airport, the van immediately took them to the runway where a private plane was parked and waiting. she assumed it was sunwoo’s. the boys plastered their faces against the van windows at the sight of the plane. they’ve never been on one before, hence their childlike fascination. 

“are we really going on that?” san asked with excitement. “i love your friend already,” he teasingly commented. 

jiyu softly chuckled as the van came to a stop. hopping out, she saw sunwoo standing at the entrance to the plane with a hybrid she assumed was eric. catching sight of jiyu, he started climbing down the stairs. she smiled and waved to him, an action he returned with a small chuckle. 

“were you waiting long?”

he shook his head. “don’t worry, we came ten minutes ago. eric’s been eager to meet you and your—” seeing the six hybrids behind her filing out of the van, his eyes widened. he knew she had hybrids, but he didn’t really know what to expect. “you have six?”

she sheepishly chuckled. “yeah...i hope you don’t mind. they won’t bite if that’s what you’re worried about.”

on the contrary, sunwoo didn’t mind at all; it actually made her a hundred times cooler in his eyes if anything. he’s never met a girl who managed to befriend six different hybrid breeds. but then again, with her job, he should’ve seen it coming. despite that, she just kept surprising him with who she is. 

“guys, this is sunwoo,” she called out to the boys. “he’s the friend i was talking about!” 

while the boys acquainted themselves with sunwoo, the german shepard hybrid approached jiyu with a friendly smile. “hi, i’m eric! although i think sunwoo told you plenty about me already.”

jiyu giggled at the boy’s abundance of energy. “he has mentioned you a few times. i’m jiyu.”

eric enthusiastically nodded. “i’ve heard about you a lot, too! sunwoo didn’t stop talking about you for a whole week after your first meeting.”

jiyu felt her face flush at the new piece of information. “a week—”

“ji! sunwoo said there’s also video games on the plane!”

before eric could continue exposing sunwoo, yunho came bounding up to her with the others in tow. with their calm and excited demeanor, she assumed that they managed to feel relaxed and at home with sunwoo, which made her happy and relieved. 

“is that so?” she mused, rubbing the spot behind his ears. yunho nodded and giggled, pushing his head into jiyu’s hands. eric glanced at sunwoo and couldn’t help the smirk on his face at the sight of the soft look on his friend’s face. 

snapping out of his reverie, sunwoo cleared his throat. “we should get going.”

the plane ride nothing out of the ordinary—the boys were getting to know eric, while jiyu and sunwoo caught up over a glass of champagne. 

“so it seems like your friends don’t know about you yet?” sunwoo inquired. “i told eric to keep his mouth shut about it just in case.”

softly shaking her head, she quietly glanced at the hybrid group that had passed out not too long ago after expending all of their energy. “only seonghwa and yunho know about it. i never found the right time to tell the others but this trip might be it.”

mingi had sleepily wandered over towards them and plopped down next to her before laying his head on her lap. within a few minutes, his breath evened out again. 

an endearing chuckle left her lips as she threaded her fingers through his faded red hair. “ah, you big baby,” she cooed. 

sunwoo watches her with a soft smile on his face. he watches the way she gently lulls the giant bunny to sleep, the mother-like smile on her face, the gentle aura she exudes—he could go on and on. she was completely different from what he had been expecting. while they had a few brief meetings during company gatherings, she always had a blank expression, never smiling nor frowning. it was almost like she was more robot than human.

when his parents had informed him of his future marriage with her, he didn’t know how to react. a part of him would’ve been lying if he had denied feeling the tiniest bit of disdain at his fate.

but lo and behold, she managed to leave him soft and charmed with every meeting, even if this was only their second one. 

“sir, ma’am, we’ll be landing in about ten minutes. please fasten your seatbelts.” 

his pilot’s voice managed to break him out of his thoughts, leaving him to scramble to sit up straighter and cool his flushed face. 

“i should wake them up,” jiyu said, completely unaware of sunwoo’s dilemma. softly shaking mingi’s shoulder, she gently prodded him awake before relaying the pilot’s message to him. padding over to the others, she did the same.

sunwoo sighed before buckling in his own seatbelt. he needed to keep himself in check around her before he accidentally does something that would embarrass himself. this is going to be a long month.

upon arriving at the private vacation home, jiyu was already bombarded with the youngers’ pleas to go to the beach. luckily for them, the vacation home was just down the street from the beach, giving them easy access to visit whenever they wanted. 

“i’m really sorry, i hope you don’t mind,” she apologized to sunwoo for the fact that they were going to the beach the moment they put their bags down. “if you’re tired, you can stay. i can take—”

sunwoo’s soft chuckle made her pause mid-sentence. she didn’t know he was capable of making such a melodious sound. while she was still living in the main house, her friends had painted him to be an aloof person. and even from what she saw at company dinners. the daughters of other elites were always throwing themselves at him, offering him drinks and their company. 

yet every singe time without fail, he would coldly reject them.

so when yuta had told her that he was the one her father set her up with, she was doubtful if they could even be civil with each other. 

“it’s fine, i’ll go with you and the others. eric’s been pestering me to go, too so it works out.”

the soft and friendly expression was just proof to her that maybe, just maybe, she had been judging the facade he puts up.

“oh, okay then!” she smiled before scurrying to her room to change. “let’s meet back here when we’re ready!”

watching her excited like a child to go to the ocean, he couldn’t contain the smile that he had been biting back. he was glad that they could at least be friends despite the circumstances.

“stop staring at her door and go change, loverboy.”

he was bought back to reality by his best friend’s quip. throwing him a half-hearted glare, he trudged to his room. “i wasn’t staring.” even his protest was weak. 

eric couldn’t help the smirk that crosses his face. he’s known his best friend long enough to know that he never gets like this around girls. “this should be an interesting trip.”

by the time they all met back up to leave, it was two p.m.—a prime time for the sun to be out and bestowing them with it’s heat on their short walk to the beach.

“it’s the ocean!” yunho shouted with utter glee and happiness as he and eric raced each other across the sand and to the water. the others ran after them, even san who ended up straying on shore and dipping his feet in the water. hongjoong joined him as he watched over the others in the water. 

jiyu and sunwoo had found a group of beach chairs under a big umbrella and tossed their bags down. stretching her limbs, jiyu sprawled out on a chair and closed her eyes for a brief moment. hearing the ocean waves along with the cheerful shouts of the boys in the water made her smile with content. 

cracking an eye open, she caught sunwoo throwing off the white t-shirt he had on and shaking his head afterward to fix his hair. her eyes raked over his body against her own will. his lean figure, the define abs lined on his stomach, and the hints of muscles on his arm only served to have a volcano of butterflies erupt in her stomach. 

“everything okay?” he asked, leaning down towards her face.

looking away from his piercing gaze, she jumped up and quickly discarded her own outerwear before speed-walking towards the water. “yep! just great!” she definitely didn’t miss the smirk that was threatening to take over his face. 

sunwoo smirked before running to catch up with her. he couldn’t help but take note of the red two-piece she was sporting. a part of him wanted to throw his earlier discarded t-shirt over her to give her coverage from other people’s gazes that were lingering just a bit too long, but he bit back his own desire.

after all, they were just budding friends who were about to be stuck in an arranged, and potentially loveless, marriage.

but that didn’t stop him from lifting her up and tossing her into the water.

emerging back up, she had to rub her eyes to get rid of the salt water before throwing a glare towards the laughing culprit.

“kim sunwoo!” she stood up and crossed her arms across her chest like an angry child. 

“i had to—hey!”

too busy caught up in his own laughter, he failed to notice the wolf hybrid sneaking up behind him to exact revenge for jiyu. emerging up next to jiyu, shook his head to remove excess water out of his hair before looking for his culprit. seeing the proudly-smiling seonghwa on shore with his hands on his hips, he let out snort. 

“alright, you got me.”

she burst into giggles before floating on her back. looking up at the sky, there were no hints of clouds—just the endless blue that seemed to stretch out for miles on end. feeling someone tug her feet, she perked her head up to see yeosang pulling her. 

“you were floating too far out,” he informed before lightly flicking her forehead. “watch out before you float away and we’re stranded here without you,” he added with a chuckle, just barely missing the splash of water that jiyu retaliated with, before swimming off back to yunho and mingi. 

“he seems fun to be around,” sunwoo said as swam up to join her. “he reminds me of eric, only more sass.”

“yeah, i never know where his sass comes from—”

she was cut off by a huge splash of water from behind that had not only hit her, but also sunwoo. turning around, she expected it to be yeosang, san, or eric.

but no one was behind them. 

sunwoo furrowed his eyebrows. the hybrid group was at least twenty feet away from them—there was no way any of them could’ve done it since he and jiyu would’ve heard them swimming off or laughing. 

“that’s odd, who—ah!”

before jiyu could finish her sentence, a pair of arms grabbed her waist and yanked her underwater. having no time to react, she felt herself being tugged away as they started swimming with her in tow.

sunwoo swore his heart almost stopped; whether it be from the fact that it all happened so quickly or the fact that jiyu could potentially be drowning, he didn’t know. he didn’t have time to know.

“oi, what the—!”  

his scream caught the others attention. looking over, they sunwoo looking frantic pulling something up from under the water. 

but there was no jiyu. 

they all swam over with urgency, fearing something went wrong.

“where is she?” hongjoong asked, brows furrowing with panic. the others looked ready to fight what or whoever took jiyu, even yunho and mingi even though they both looked on the verge of crying. 

“something pulled her down and just...swam away!”

meanwhile, underwater, jiyu was having a ball trying to fight off what or whoever pulled her down. it was definitely a person—she felt the arms around her waist and the hard chest that was tightly pressed against her back. looking behind her she managed to make out a male with majestic, black with gold highlights. 

the lack of air snapped her back to reality from her gawking and she stared to try and pry the man’s hands off of her. as if catching onto her message, he quickly brought her back up to the surface. 

inhaling like her life depended on it and coughing out some water, she turned around and glared at whoever decided to try and almost drown her.

but before she could her a word out, she was blown away by how...pretty the man staring back at her was. with his hair tucked behind his ears, it framed his face perfectly, showing off his distinct and defined facial features.

but something else caught her eye. 

the lower half of his body was a tail. eyes flicking back and forth from the man’s face to the tail, her mouth opened and closed like fish out of water.

“a fish h-hybrid..?”

“oi, jiyu!” 

at the sound of her name, she looked behind the man to see everyone swimming up to her. it turned out that they weren’t that far away from shore—the man, or hybrid, just took her along the shoreline rather than farther out like she had originally thought. 

the unknown hybrid just watched as the seven other hybrids and sunwoo crowded her to make sure she was okay. yeosang profusely apologized, saying “i know i joked about you floating away and stranding us, but i didn’t mean to make that a reality”.

sunwoo ruffled her wet hair, breathing out a sigh of relief. “you scared me there. i thought i was going to lose you on the first day here.”

“huh? yeosang?”

at the sound of his name, yeosang turned around and practically fainted. he literally swam past him, how did he manage to miss the extremely familiar face.  he stared at the underwater hybrid, wide-eyed, like he had witnessed another miracle from the universe. the unknown man mirrored yeosang���s look.

“wooyoung?!”

[mgsapphire]

Ethics and morality... and how they're not the same...

Weird title, and I don't even know if I'll properly approach this one with all the topics I wish to this discuss in today's The Devil Judge essay, because a lot of things peaked my interest, I was debating on doing a separate post for each subject, but I'll do them all in here:

Starting simple

I know we're only 4 episodes in, but I want to break down the things that I often look for in a new show:

Cinematography

Soundtrack

Character building

Plot devices

Social commentary (sometimes)

Of course, these are things most people would consider basics, but I find that a lot of TV shows don't have enough balance in them. Also, cinematography and soundtrack are pretty up there for me because when a plot gets slow, or something like that, I stay for those two (biggest example: King Eternal Monarch).

The soundtrack in The Devil Judge is amazing and the cinematography can be a character of its own. They really get me hooked and are used as tools to properly tell a story. And I'll get into that further down this post.

The onlooker will never understand the actor

Experience is your best friend not only applies to job hunting, but it's true in the real world too. You can't truly weigh in on something unless you've experienced it yourself, you can give it your judgment and everything, but when bad things happen to someone, you'll never truly understand their pain. Am I bringing up because of the difference of mind in Judge Kang and Judge Kim's opinions? On how the public treated the minister's son? No. I'm talking about a very specific scene, where the cinematography told me to think that way and not the dialogue (it's that easy for my mind to be swayed). In episode 3, when the rich are about to dine right after the foundation's commercial for a better future, we see this aerial shot:

What's interesting about this? The seclusion and the enclosed feeling it conveys as a counterpart to the poverty shots we were just shown. Yet, these are the people making ads for a better future, what do they know?

They live comfortably behind concrete walls with no windows to see what goes on apart from the bubble they live in. This idea is further enforced at the party in episode 4, where they're not even a part of the donations, and watch and mock from afar as spectators. Yet, these people call the shots. They even call it commenting, as if they were watching the pain of others on TV.

The intriguing personality and the duality it encites

Now, this was a costume and wardrobe decision, but it was also very well thought of:

Judge Kim wears white and Judge Kang wears black. One is morally perceived by viewers of the show as morally good and the other is perceived as morally dubious at best. However, besides the costume and wardrobe thought put into this, we also have to think about the delivery of this scene and how it may further affect my detailing of this section. Judge Kang brings down the coats, and hangs over the coat to Judge Kim, he's the one who is making that annotation: You're pure, I'm tainted. This can have one of two interpretations:

Either Judge Kang believes Judge Kim to be pure and innocent due to his status as a rookie in the field

Or he believes Judge Kim to be morally white and himself morally black as he's looking at his brother's face and not at Judge Kim's heart.

Because most of the back story we're unveiling is through Judge Kim's perception, there's also an inherit bias we're having as well, because in Judge Kim narrative, he believes he's doing what's right and believes Judge Kang to be evil. In being served information about Judge Kang through Judge Kim's eyes, our bias is inherently skewed.

Another thing is that, when they put on the coat, they're standing in front of the other, as if the producers of this series are telling us they're two sides of the same coin.

The duality is made in more deceitful ways, which include:

A difference of classes that implies one has suffered while the other has not.

A difference of experience that implies one is more tainted while the other is pure.

A difference of age that implies one is a sly fox while the other one is is bunny about to be eaten.

A difference of temper that makes one erratic and the other logical.

Power dynamics

This one, in this one I could make a whole thesis based on just a couple of scenes in the drama. And you know I have to mention it: director Jung being the puppeteer.

It may not be as unexpected at first, nevertheless it brings forward a lot of things I've wished to touch upon for quite some time now. A woman being a puppeteer of an old man in the portrayed dystopia that The Devil Judge is painting makes much more sense than more common demonstrations of these dynamics where it's either a:

A man of power being controlled by a bigger man of power.

A man of power being controlled by a seemingly man of a lower status.

A woman being controlled by a man of power.

Although, there's nothing wrong with those power dynamics, and if they were to be used, a message could also be conveyed, this one in particular works as a megaphone.

A subversion of power in such a way can be interpreted as a true indication of the weak overcoming the powerful. Why? It is not that woman are naturally weaker than men, but that in society, patriarchy has been a big factor in taking voice away from women in order to give it to men.

In order for Director Jung to achieve her purposes, it's smarter for her to do it under the pretense that an old rich man in power is the one calling the shots.

This is better exemplified by her stance when the old man tries to excuse his behavior, and what her moral compass is. I'm not saying I agree with her unethical conduct, but that her morality is directly impacted by the perception of the public of her as a weak woman:

Just because a dog bites a human does the person get dirty?

This is telling on how she perceives the actions of the old man in gropping the waitress. She didn't do anything wrong, even if you touched her, you are the dirty one.

While she's evil, it's a refreshing and deep evil.

The public's opinion and how there's actually logic in the show's portrayal

The public opinion can make or break a person, even if it's not on a public trial like this. While "cancel culture" barely works in today's society, a person's reputation is forever tainted. The show does tell that, but it also exhibits the scary downside of it, by showing how easily it was to make people accept flaggelation as a fitting punishment.

There are many experiments that have tried to test the effect of societal pressure on an individual's decision and the effect of the authority's enforcement of power in the outcome of these decisions. Furthermore, theories based on analysis of human behavior not necessarily relying on experiments can also help break this down. What do I mean? Here's a small attempt at explaining:

Milgram Experiment on Authority: which measured the individual willingness to carry out actions that go against their conscience due to an authority's approval.

Argument from Authority; The idea that people are more likely to use an authority's opinion on something as an argument for their reason. This is often seen in science, where trusted authorities have done the research and offer it to the public. In here, authority bias also plays a role, as we often believe, at first, that an authority must be right.

Moral disengagement: basically speaking, because this is evil or bad, I'm not part of it and I most probably am not actively participating in it. One may disengage by moral justification, which means that before engaging in something that has been previously perceived as immoral, I'm changing my stance on it based on what I tell myself to be logical arguments. This particular form of moral disengagement is very effective in changing the public opinion. I'll be touching on another form further down this post.

Other factors played a part, but these ones in particular came to mind when public flagelation as a form of corporeal punishment was wildly accepted. First, an authority is the one telling them it's correct, to go ahead. Secondly, another authority (the minister) had previously shown approval to such unusual punishment. Thirdly, they are not the ones to be engaging directly in the act, and even if they were, it would be acceptable because an authority has told them so. They may even believe the punishment to be a necessary evil for the greater good.

In fact, the minister's son was actually correct when pleading his case, they were accepting it because it wouldn't affect them directly.

Regarding the cinematographic descent of the public opinion regarding the situation can better be exemplified by the old man we've seen through the episodes.

Does suffering justify misdeeds?

Today I came along the difference between excuse and reason. You may give a reason for your behavior, but it doesn't excuse it.

Not because I've suffered through shit, means I have to make you suffer too.

I may explain myself, but it's on the other side to excuse me.

Why I hate the unreliable narrator and why I love it so much

This story has been told mostly through the eyes of Judge Kim and what he hears and sees regarding Judge Kang, if anything, the narrative is very close to that of the narrative we've seen in The Great Gatsby. An enigmatic man is being narrated to us from the eye of a man who hasn't known him for a long time.

How is that an unreliable narrator? The narrator has their own set of bias and moral standards which function as lenses through which they see the world.

Another way of putting it would be the way teenage romances are often written in a first person narrative where either of the two teenagers is the narrator, so the author can sell to us something as simple as offering a pack of gum as the most romantic act on earth. We're perceiving interactions through rose tainted glasses.

In this case, we're seeing the interactions through Judge Kim's eyes who doesn't trust Judge Kang from the get go due to his own preset bias.

The narrative becomes even more unreliable as we're not exactly sure if what Judge Kang disclosed himself is a fact.

The reason why I love this narrative is because it leaves a lot of space to make simple plot twists to a narrative and make them seem grand, and can elongate a story without making it obvious.

The reason why I hate it is because sometimes, in tv shows mostly, we as viewers can see the other side of the story and grow increasingly frustrated with the main character's prejudice and misunderstandings (I'm looking at you my beloved Beyond Evil).

Also, because I have to wait for a long time before I actually have a clear picture of it.

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Fools who dream #Writer Wednesday 07/28/21 Javier Peña x f!reader

For #Writer Wednesday created by @autumnleaves1991-blog and tagging @clydesducktape that creates the masterlist every week. Thank you for the amazing work to both of you!!

Paring: Javier Peña xf!reader (addressed as you/she)

Summary: Long time ago, Javier met a girl full of dreams living a hard life. One day, driving around town he finds out that maybe, dreams do come true.

Warnings: smoking, swearing, +18 SMUT not very descriptive sex but it’s there, allutions to prostitution.

A/N: This is the lovechild of: me being angsty, listening to Lalaland’s soundtrack, and rereading a novella I wrote a long time ago about an escort girl that I was planning to rewrite (I thought that it could be an interesting Javi’s fic, but I don’t know). So to conclude: a mess, voilá! bear in mind, there’s mention of sexwork and we respect sexworkers in this house.

Sorry for any mistakes and bad grammar!!

Fools who dream

She turns and faces the camera, they make a dramatic zoom on her while the orquestra rises in a beautiful romantic crescendo. With pink parted lips she smiles at the protagonist, her eyes glow and shyly she lowers her gaze.

Back to the male lead he’s looking at her like there’s nobody else in the room, the camera blurs everything except his face and hers. Love, romance.

The movie was not really interesting until the moment she appeared. Same old story about a guy in search of that perfect girl, his life is miserable; making him fall into very comedic and not very surprising adventures and misfortunes on a very normal life up until she appears and then she shows him the meaning of life and live life to the fullest or some bullshit.

Javi didn’t pay a ticket for a good story, fuck he didn’t even read the plot before buying it. But he saw the sign while he was waiting at the traffic light, the local drive-in cinema and its yellow lights against the night presenting:

The right one (or something like that) starring some guy and then her name.

So he drove in and asked for a ticket, probably looking a bit weird being just a guy alone buying just one ticket to a romantic comedy surrounded by couples. It looks fucking sad, Peña he thought. But he has to see her, he has to see if it is true.

“Hi”

she says on the screen and it takes him away from his thoughts. Hearing that voice again after many years hits him so differently. To think that those sweet lips moaned and called his name pressed against his skin, so close that he can almost feel the heat of her body on him in his cold lonely car.

The guy smiles at her and makes a fool of himself gaining a sweet giggle from her. And it reminds him of the times she danced in his apartment or made fun of him for being such a grump.

Deja de fruncir el ceño, Javi, que se te va a quedar así (Stop frowning, Javi, or it’s gonna stay like that) she used to say, brushing her index finger over her nose giggling just like now in the movie.

She said something back, but he’s not listening. Javier just puts the words he remembers she said to him on her lips. A fantasy within a fantasy.

What is more real? those intimate moments years ago or him watching her on a movie alone in his car?

He has lost the plot, but who cares? She laughs and pushes the protagonist's hand to the empty streets of New York and the lights shine on them, and as the world perfectly bends to lovers in movies, it starts raining and she receives the drops with open arms and a wide grin. And they kiss, a perfect one, soft lips over the other. Nothing like the kisses they shared

Their kisses were hungry, knowing that they were borrowed and paid in time, rushed sometimes, others slowly and messy pouring all the heat and the pain and the adrenaline in which he lived in those years.

Now he wishes he could have kissed her once last time, just like that, softly, the world far away from them. Perfect just like a movie.

The audience claps rejoicing in this celebration of love, some young couples are celebrating love in some different kind of way, the movie merely an excuse to have some time alone under the stars.

And Javier is suddenly aware of his loneliness of the empty space by his side, he’s the antonym of what he’s seeing on screen, of having the luck of finding the one and being delighted in love.

He could’ve been in love, once. He certainly felt something growing and shattering the hard shield he had on his chest when they were together.

And now watching her mimic those feelings, those desires, he feels jealous, of what? he doesn’t know, it’s not like they had a chance...did they?

Colombia, 1984

“You’re going to laugh” you say the fan above your head blows waves of hot air that still smell of sex and the cigarette Javi’s smoking languidly over the window.

He has barely put his jeans on, the zip and top button undone. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes are way more visible today than ever. You can even see the weight on his shoulders, he’s hunching, his neck curved down as he smokes.

He doesn’t say but you know there’s something bothering him, he’s quieter than usual, rougher.

He called you late in the evening, paid a taxi to get you to his house and you barely made it to the door when he grabbed you by your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kiss was ardent, his tongue invading your mouth in a mix of coffee, whiskey and smoke and need. You tried to push him and talk, just maybe say hello how was your day but he whimpered, he’s dark eyes pleading while he caressed your cheeks. And you let him, you know what he needed so you said nothing when he impatiently fisted your skirt up your navel and pushed your panties to the side so he could bury himself in you.

Covered in the dim lights of the scarce traffic in the middle of the night, silent apart from the rhythmic thumps of your hips hitting the door and both of your whispers and moans, Javier performed his usual rite of expelling his demons away on you. Each thrust, each second he was in you, the world became nothing, just white noise, there was only you and the primal need of achieving pleasure skin against skin.

Your soft voice, those sweet lips gasping brushing against his ear, he thinks it’s the only time he likes to hear his name being called or actually being aware of himself. With you there’s no Javier running to and from monsters and there’s no brutality or violence.

There’s only your soft hands locked on his neck, fingers curled in his hair and when you smile at him, eyes up the sky, lost in pleasure, he feels good and the world seems a little bit better.

“I even didn’t offer some water before…” he said after he recovers his breath still inside you

“I’ve never had a warmer welcome in my life, Javi, it’s alright” you laugh with legs trembling

“Still” he kissed your wrists and held you close, walking slowly towards the bedroom.

You barely made some small talk before his eyes grew darker, lost in something that chokes him, and he quietly covers you with his big body

“I just need to make love to you...please” he said with his forehead on yours. And here you are, body exhausted and numb, cooling the sweat with the sweet waves of air from the fan.

“I won’t laugh at you” he answers resuming the conversation, you were lost in your thoughts but when you look at him, you see he watches you intently and you believe him

“I mean it’s so cliche how I ended up doing this...it’s ridiculous” you shake your head

None of your clients has ever asked you about how you ended up doing this. None of them are really interested in you anyway, they prefer a fantasy, a character. But not Javi, and that scares you. He sees right through you.

“I wanted to get out of my small town, I had big dreams, big plans” you smile “I came to the city and I tried and tried to succeed but...well, long story short, a friend proposed it once and the money was too tempting”

“What did you want to do in the first place?” Javi approaches the bed. His skin shines against the moonlight, his disheveled hair makes him looks younger

“Now you’re going to really laugh” you cover your face with one of his pillows

“C’mon tell me” he smirks squeezing your tight

“I wanted to be an actress, do novelas, films, everything” you shyly confess. For a moment, you don’t look at him, expecting him to chuckle at your stupid little dream, but seconds pass and he doesn’t

“ I think you could do it” Javi’s hands draw small circle over you hip bones

“You think?” you bite your lip

“I do” he shifts position, resting his back on the bed and you open your legs so he can rest his head over your belly “Would you send me a dedicated picture once you made it?” you brush his hair out of his face and you see he’s smiling

“Of course, To my very first fan, who always believed in me” you wave your hand over the imaginary paper “And a kiss just under it”

“Would frame it and put it in my office...nah” he shakes his head “I put it right here” he motions towards the nightstand “I don’t want my colleagues greasy hands over my picture”you laugh out loud at his comment

“Sure, so you can dream about me” you joke stealing his cigarette and smoking a long drag

Present day

You don’t know how many times he has dreamt about you.

How many times that stupid movie has played in his house late at night, he bought it, foolish at it may seem, he has rewatch every frame, stopping to admire you.

You look happy now, your sweet eyes shine more and he’s happy, really is, that you have made it, but deep down, he wonders, as much as it makes he’s heart ache, Do you think about him? surely you don’t.

Probably you left that part of your life buried somewhere in Colombia. You changed your name, your past, everything, how could you think about him?

You’re probably living your best life, full of glamour, opportunities opening just in front of your eyes. How could you remember him?

You don’t (surely) so he has to content himself with the fiction. He replays that scene where you turn to the camera, smiling

Hi

and just for a second, he thinks, he dreams, it’s for him.

[louiszeastronaut]

“𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎... 𝙸 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞” - Tom Riddle x y/n

Note: So basically, I took the dialogues from a scene in Little Women, when Laurie proposes to Jo, but she rejects. Then I replaced the two characters with y/n and Tom. I tweaked some sentences in the dialogues, and wrote the sentences outside of the dialogues with my own words just to make it fit the story... I haven’t finished it (3/26/21 I guess I finished it?) because I wanted to know if you all think I should continue or not. Idk what this is man lol.

Warnings: terrible grammar and punctuation mistakes :)) Word Count: 1,447

March 19, 2021

    “Penelope married” you said aloud.

    “Nanette of to Europe.” there was a brief pause between you and Tom.

     “And now that you’re a graduate you’ll be off on a long holiday” you continued, panting as you walked down the sloping hill.

    “I’m not good like Padma, so I’m angry and I’m restless.”

    “You don’t have to stay here y/n” he suggested

    “Why?”      “Should we run off and join a pirate ship?” You joked, turning your attention back to him, grinning at yourself. You peered at him just after laying your eyes on the orange and red maple trees that lie so vibrantly, and vastly ahead of you. Then you saw his solemn face. And yours fell into a yearning grave of its own.

    “No. No…”  you stared blankly at him, knowing what he’s hinting at.

    “It’s no use y/n” he reached for your hands, but you neglected it and pulled away “Y/n we’ve got to have it out…”

    “No please don’t-

    “I have loved you ever since I’ve known you y/n I couldn’t help it!”

    “Tom… no-

    “A-and I tried to show you, and you wouldn’t let me, even though I struggle to show it to anyone-

   “But I must make you hear it now, and give me an answer because-” he said through a weighted sigh, “Because I cannot  go on like this any longer y/n!”

   “No..”

  “I gave up the dark arts, I gave up everything you didn’t like, I’m happy I did. It’s fine. And I waited and I never complained!” He cried aloud, spectacles of tears starts forming in his eyes, then rolling down his pale cheek.

    “Cause I-“ he paused, face angry and flustered that he’s showing his rather pathetic side to you, and letting the fact that he’s showing this just to profess his love, is absolutely harrowing and ludicrous! Even for him. But he can’t seem to hinder himself away from it, nor does he feel like he has to, because at this point he had to finish what he didn’t originally appointed to say.       “Cause I figured you’d love me y/n!” He yelled.

    “A-and I realized I’m not half as good enough-

    “No! Yes you are!” You exclaimed back.

     “And I’m not this great man, and-

     “No! No Tom, yes you are!” “You are.” He stopped talking, catching his breath so you finally had your turn of say.

     “You’re a great deal too good for me” you say as you pointed your finger on his chest, nudging it reassuringly. “And I’m so grateful to you. And I’m so proud of you and- and I just don’t see why I can’t love as you want me to“ you pleaded. “I don’t know why”

       “You can’t?” Tom asked in a whisper, his eyes darted away as you hear the echo in his voice.

       “No… I can’t- I can’t change how I feel. And it would be a lie to say that I do, when I don’t”

       “I’m so sorry Tom-“ your eyes still fixed on him, you could see him thinking, biting the insides of his cheek. “I’m so sorry” you repeated more imploringly. “But I just can’t help it…”

        “I can’t love anyone else y/n I only love you” he admitted

         “Tom it would be a disaster if we were married, okay?”

         “It wouldn’t be a disaster!” He argued

          “We’d be miserable-

          “GOD BE A PERFECT SAINT!” He yelled

           “I CAN’T! I can’t! I’ve tried it- and I’ve failed!” you exclaimed, your words trembling in the end. You realized you were staring directly through his cold grey eyes, used to be full of depth and sudden rupture, but now clouded with his blinded feelings that you can’t help but hopelessly deny. Both of you let the words hang over the air for a while...

           “Why does everyone expect it then?!” He continued, “Why does your family and my friends expect it?!”

           “Why are you saying this?! Say yes-“ he nudged his hand forward, offering you something you have stubbornly refused many times in this feud “And let’s be happy together.”

          “I can’t say yes truly. So I’m not gonna say it at all. And you’ll see that I’m right eventually and you’ll thank me for it“ you explained grabbing ahold of both his freezing hands in front of you, making sure he understood where you’re coming from. Your clutch loosened as he writhes away from hands.

         He breathed out more heavily than before, head shaking, headspace nowhere to be found. He was tired of rambling and letting his words foam out of his mouth. It was quiet for a brief moment that it felt like everything around you suddenly vanished, and you two were left alone with only your souls crying out to be heard by the other. The air was taut and quiet, that you noticed his uneven breathing patterns, and only then you recognized that your heart was beating the same way. Beat. Breath. Beat… Breath… Beat…..

       “I’d rather hang myself then realize this y/n.” He broke the silence.

        “Tom-“

       “I would rather be dead.”

       “Tom don’t say that!” you bellowed wearily. He put his hands in his pocket and started walking away. You could see his jaw clenching, you’ve learned from your time spent being with him that he does this only when he’s angry. But, not like this. He’s still trudging even more further down the hill, his shoulders bouncing as gravity pulled him down, so you had to catch up.         “Tom, listen...” “You’ll find some lovely accomplished girl!” you say as you flailed your arm in the air, then reach up to grasp his shoulder from behind, while resting your other hand on his tensed back. Only to find him tearing his arm away from your touch, rather harshly. You felt his hurt. You felt guilty for ever making anyone feel this way. Especially if that ‘anyone’ is him.

        “Who will love you and adore you, and- and she’ll make a fine mistress for your fine house! But I wouldn’t alright?!” 

        “Yes you would y/n...”

        “Tom. Tom- look at me!”  “I’m homely, and I’m awkward, and I’m odd!” 

         “I love you y/n....” Tom said in a monotone voice, watching you play out and degrade yourself as what you think your negative qualities are, just so that you could point out to him why you think you two shouldn’t be together. 

         “And you’d be ashamed me of me-” you added

         “I love you y/n.” He interrupted, repeating the same words but more clamorously this time.            “And-and we would quarrel, we can’t help it even now!!!” you shouted, later noticing how unapologetically you sounded. You wanted to keep talking but you decided to stop to catch your breath first. You could feel the burn rising in your throat from yelling, but you continued on.           “I’d hate elegant society, you’d hate my scribbling... and we would be unhappy, and we wished we hadn’t done it! And- and everything will be horrid-” You ranted. You opened your mouth again to say something but decided against it. Now, you’re looking down at the ground as you think how you might’ve made the situation even worse. You can’t imagine what Tom’s feeling right now... for all you know this was the only time he has ever confessed his bigger emotions that you didn’t know he had.                  “Anything more?” He inquired, laying his eyes upon you after looking away for a few seconds.            “No...” you answered,“Nothing more...”

          “Alright.” He whispered while nodding simultaneously, clenching his jaw again. He hiked up the hill slowly, dragging his feet along the sharp grass.

           “Except that-” you appended, not knowing what choice of words you should declare next. As you searched your thoughts, asking your own brain to form the correct words, Tom shot his head back quickly. Bobbing his head along as he approached you again, as if he was waiting for you to say that you might feel even the slightest bit of devotion that you are willing to give to him in that tethered heart of yours. Unfortunately for him, still, that’s not what you’re after.

       “Tom...” you started “Tom- I don’t believe I will ever marry...” you dismissed through a forlorn scoff, admitting this to yourself and to him for the first time because you believed that that’s where your fate have destined you.         “I am happy as I am, and I love my liberty to well to be in any hurry to give it up”

       “I think you’re wrong about that y/n...

       “No...

        “I think you will marry y/n.” 

        “I think you’ll find someone and love them, and you’ll live and die for them because that’s your way and you will...

        “And I’ll watch”

(Finished?)

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Lips of an Angel

My Masterlist  

Pairing: Ivar/Danish!Reader, Ivar/Freydis, Reader/OC

Summary: “Well, I had this idea of Ivar x reader based off the song Lips of an Angel. (If you feel like a Modern AU works best that's fine) Where Ivar is with Freydis, but Ivar never let go of his feelings for the reader and she never let go of hers, and you can decide how you want it to end.”

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst, lost love, implied sex/cheating, mention of polygamy

A/N: This is the closest I’ll get I’ve gotten to writting 5b Ivar, and it still is ooc probably. I feel like a horrible writer for ignoring canon like this, but istg that season almost made me give up on Vikings altogether and I just can’t write it, or any of the characters as they were then.

Anyhow, hope you like this, I was on the fence about making it a modern!au or not, so I decided to write both a Viking times version and a Modern version. Different story completely, of course.

You can find the Modern!AU version of this request right here

Kattegat is still the same, you realize, it is as if Aslaug still sits on that throne.

In a way, you think she still does.

Álfarr’s hand is a comfortable weight on your back, and his warmth helps you thaw from the cold of memories and regret that took a hold of you the moment you crossed those walls.

“You cannot leave me!” His voice is an enraged snarl, his hand is gripping tight at the axe on the table.

You know it is madness to turn your back on Ivar the Boneless, you know it is madness to ignore the rage in his eyes. Still, you walk out of that worn-down church, and surprisingly, you survive.

And because the man you are travelling with, the man that claims to love you and to know you love him too, is too smart for his own good, he notices the way you wish for nothing more than to leave this place you just returned to.

And so he tries reminding you of what you have returned for, of the life you will be able to have once you spend one winter in Kattegat.

“I was thinking, after this, we could travel to Ribe,” Álfarr offers casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “The Danes are sure to welcome you back.”

“Hmm,” You reply, nodding your head, and because he deserves it, because you can’t forget what made you left Kattegat or what has made you return, you offer a smile, “I don’t know if they would welcome you, though.”

“I fought against Angantyr once,” He reminds you with a chuckle. After a moment, he brings you close and presses a kiss to the side of your head, “Besides, more than a year ago I was convinced-…”

“Convinced? You make it sound as if-…”

“I was convinced by a beautiful Danish woman to leave those wars behind,” Álfarr continues with a knowing smile, ignoring your glare of protest. “And I don’t regret it.”

“Well let’s hope she doesn’t regret this, eh?” You try around a deep breath, a smile that feels fake.

One winter. Only one winter in Kattegat, and then Álfarr will be at your side wherever the Gods will take you. Such was the pledge he made, and the deal you agreed to.

____

Long before the night that now envelops you had settled, word had reached you that the King calls for you, and all you’ve been able to do since that thrall delivered the message was to consider the cost of running away, cowardly as it may be.

Reminiscent of those last weeks before he drove you away, before you left him behind.

“Ivar calls for you.” Hvitserk tells you with a sigh, taking a seat at your side with an exhaustion that is more than physical.

“What for? He listens only to his own voice lately.” You quip bitterly, but still stand up and with a soft touch of the Prince’s shoulder, you answer a call that hurts your pride, your hope.

Álfarr’s steps approaching you take you away from the dangerous lull of memories.

“Are you going to go?” He asks without preamble, taking a seat in front of you.

You sigh, “If the King calls for me-…”

Álfarr chuckles bitterly, interrupting you, “Ah, of course. The King summoning a Völva, nothing more. Surely not your ex-lover wanting to see you again.”

“Do you want me to say no? Not many survive denying Ivar.”

“You survived leaving him.”

“Yes. I left him,” You repeat pointedly, not intending to withstand foolish jealousy. But because what the years made out of you isn’t happy with the way he is soothed slightly at your reminder, you add, “I left him when he tried keeping me chained.”

And Álfarr was always a smart man, it was one of the reasons you first trusted him. So in response to the threat you don’t voice, he only shrugs, “You wouldn’t leave me.”

Your eyebrows raise at the unwavering certainty, “What makes you think that?”

“Nothing could make you wish to return to Kattegat until me,” Álfarr offers you a smile, that you almost start returning, “I still consider it a feat, to have been able to sway you.”

You drink down the last of your mead, tilting your head back and trying to chase away bitterness with the honeyed drink.

“You swayed me the moment I found you dying and chose to save you, you fool.” You quip, betraying a fond smile that he returns.

Without any more words, you stand up. Your hand traces the outline of his shoulders, strong and familiar, as you walk out the door.

____

Ivar waits for you sitting in what looks like an adjacent room to the throne room.

You wish you could say he looks the same, you wish you could say he still has the face, the eyes, of the man you once loved.

But his face is darkened by shadows and something more sinister than that, his eyes are colder and crueler than you ever had the misfortune of seeing them.

It still makes a pang of pain travel to your chest, to the place where your heart ought to be if you hadn’t carelessly given it away years ago, to see him before you, in the flesh, not a dream or a memory.

“My King.” You bow your head.

“Say my name,” Ivar orders gruffly, and at your startled expression when you lift your gaze to his, he amends, “We’ve-…Don’t act like we are strangers. Call me by my name.”

“Alright, Ivar,” You concede, the familiar sound of his name on your lips still managing to make your chest tighten. You take a seat in the chair across from him that was offered, and fold your hands over your lap to keep yourself from fidgeting. “Why did you call for me?”

“You arrive at a Kingdom and don’t dare visit the King, hm?” He taunts without missing a beat, “You used to have better manners.”

And you used to avoid playing these games with me, you think, but bite back the words.

“I needn’t bother any king with an announcement of my arrival,” You remind him, “I am no one of importance, of fame.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” A soft and dainty voice says, making a chill run down your spine even before you see the blonde approaching from the shadows. She offers a smile, but the eyes of the Queen of Kattegat are as cold as the King’s. “You’re the Völva that granted the Black Danes many victories, aren’t you?”

You watch, frozen in your place, as she approaches Ivar with ease, resting one delicate hand on his shoulder, standing by his side.

Trying to keep your eyes from following the movement of Ivar’s hand that goes to touch hers where it rests on his shoulder, you reply, “I have granted no man any victory.”

“The Gods did, but in no little thanks to your work, your magic. I have heard of you,” She insists, and you frankly do not know what to do with her false warmth. Looking into her eyes feels like watching a flame from the other side of a glass window, an illusion, a façade. “And I am honored you’re here.”

You bow your head in acceptance, “Thank you, Queen Freydis.”

She betrays a wider smile, a more feral smile, and your blood runs cold.

“Ah, you know my name. You have heard of me too, then?”

You feel like you’re being ambushed, so instead of giving her an answer, you return your gaze to the King.

“Why was I summoned here?”

Ivar regards you in silence, eyes slightly narrowed and a cold cruelty in the slight curve of his smile.

Still, he gestures with his hand, dismissing his wife, ordering her to leave the two of you alone.

“Word is you aren’t here to stay.”

“Just for the winter.”

“A Völva, and one always close to the sons of Ragnar at that,” He lists, leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on armored knees, “I could have use for you.”

You feel cold creeping over you, and lean back.

“Use?”

“It is a matter of time before Freydis becomes pregnant with my child,” Ivar comments with what to anyone else would look like nonchalance, but you hear the cruelty behind the words. “I could use a witch weaving her magic to protect my child and wife.”

It hurts, it hurts at a deep part of your chest, so much so you almost want to look down to see if there’s a gaping wound where your heart should be.

“There’s many that would be willing to do so, but not me.”

“Why not?”

“My home isn’t Kattegat.”

“Where is it, then? With that blacksmith?” He accuses without missing a beat. The anger in his tone, the accusation, the vitriol, the rage, it is all so familiar.

It is all you left behind, with reason to do so.

“I will put word that Kattegat is in search of a Völva to protect the King and his family,” You say around the foolish and hopeless knot of pain at your throat, “I’m sure someone will be of help.”

Standing up from your seat, you mutter a goodbye and turn your back to the King.

His voice, loud and enraged as he calls your name, makes all of this a familiar scene, and it makes you stop dead on your tracks.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.” Ivar snarls at you, the sound of a crutch stabbing the ground as he stands up as well.

You take a deep breath, but don’t turn around.

“May I leave, then?”

“No,” He sentences, walking closer, “Not now, and not when winter is over.”

You gasp, “What?”

“I’m keeping you here in Kattegat,” Ivar states, intimidating, venomous, unfamiliar as he towers over you, “I’m King, I can do as I wish with you.”

“I am a free woman,” You remind him, “Only my blood would rule over me, and they are all dead. My blood or my husband, and you, Ivar, are neither.”

“You cannot command me!” You insist with a laugh, defiant even as you tilt your head to the side to let him continue his thorough exploration of your neck with his lips and tongue.

“Hm, you forget who leads the army you fight for, witch.” He teases, a breathed laugh against your neck when you pull on his hair, offended at the title

“No one but my family commands me, Ivar.”

“They are all dead.”

“Not all of them,” You quip, a foolish knot on your stomach tightening at the conversation you’re about to start, “Family isn’t just blood. One day I will be married, and my husband will be my family.”

“So, no one but your blood or your husband would dare rule over you,” He intones, pulling back and searching your eyes, “Why do I have the feeling it wouldn’t be so easy to make you surrender?”

“Because you have good judgement?” You offer with a tentative laugh.

Ivar only smiles, and leans down to capture your mouth in his. His kisses never fail to make your heart beat so fast you hear it in your head.

In the way his hands tighten over whatever part of you he has a hold of, in the way his tongue demands entrance to your mouth, in the way you feel the soft sounds he cannot keep trapped; you find yourself gone, enthralled, his.

When he pulls back, his eyes, darkened and burning, linger on your kiss-bitten lips for a few moments.

“With those lips of yours, love, it would be very easy to make any man surrender.” Ivar confesses in a hoarse whisper, and past the pang of heat his words and the way he’s looking at you send through you, you smile.

“My lips?” He hums an agreement, and in the few moments you have him enthralled, your smile turns devious, “Where?”

Ivar grits his teeth at the reminder, and the flash of pain you imagine seeing for a moment could make you believe he remembers the same moments you do, the same life you wish you could have lived till your last breath, the same world you wish you had never left behind.

“That blacksmith you came with.”

“He’s a warrior, and you know his name.” You tell him, aware you’re prodding a dangerous beast but still doing so with an arrogant tilt of your chin.

“Does he know about me?” Ivar asks, voice low and dangerous, “About us? About what you promised me?”

“Does she?” You ask, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone.

Ivar’s reply is immediate, “Yes.”

And with a simple word weighs on you the realization that either she means much more to him than you ever imagined, or you still do. You aren’t sure you want to know the answer.

“I have to go,” You tell him, stepping back and lowering your gaze to the dark wood under your feet. “Tell your brother I would love to see him. I’ve missed him.”

“You’ll just leave?”

“No, I will stay until winter passes. I-…”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean, and you know it,” He accuses, furious movements of his crutch as he approaches you again. “You’ll leave me again.”

The words tug at a pathetic and foolish part of your heart, a part of your heart that you never got back. A part of your heart that was left behind in some old church in York.

Still, you offer truth, a truth that lacerates at your throat on the way out, “I never returned to you, Ivar.”

His free hand grabs roughly at your arm, and his breathing is fast, his eyes are searching yours desperately.

The furious glint in his eye, the twinge of madness in his scowl, the phrase he would repeat over and over as if he could make it truth by will alone, “You will not leave me.”

“You are here, Fate brought you back to me.”

“Fate brought your wife to you,” You remind him, pain interwoven in your every word, “Fate brought Álfarr to my side. Fate pulled us apart, Ivar.”

But he shakes his head, stubborn and desperate. For a moment, in the way the snarl in his lips trembles, in the way he blinks quickly, you see the man you love.

“No.” Is all he says, before he brings you to him roughly, and claims your mouth.

You have been familiar with magic all your life, and you know it is something other than it, but it feels like magic when you let yourself give into his kiss. It feels like something stronger than magic when you find yourself giving in to Ivar, breaths quickened as you watch him answer the command of the gentle push of your hand and sit on the chair at his back.

Kissing him, it is anger, it is anger and lust and grief and love, you won’t deny it. It is biting and demanding and rough and him.

Getting lost in the feel, the smell, the taste, of him was always easy. Terrifyingly easy, once.

And so you lose yourself in the push and pull of your bodies moving as one, in the way he demands with bites and kisses and soft sounds breathed against your lips the surrender you refuse to give, in the way he lets you try and lure him to that same surrender with your lips on his skin and the intonation of his name on your lips that still makes him tremble.

His hands are rough and demanding as they grip your hips, and he makes you move above him with a punishing pace. And it feels like he is trying to punish you. For leaving him. For returning.

Your own hands grip onto his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and drawing blood, traying to dispel the touch of any other with each drop. So that there’s a bit of you left with him, a proof. Of how you once were his. Of how he’s still yours.

____

You lay in the quiet that lets you pretend you never left that world you once loved so much, in the peace that makes your chest ache for the unsaid vows you broke.

Ivar’s head rests against your chest, letting you every once in a while feel the drag of his mouth over your skin, lazily retracing a path he bit and kissed his way through earlier. Your fingers, aching to be once again familiar with the feel of his skin, the softness of his hair, travel wherever you can reach, ceaselessly.

It is as if in each breath shared, in each moan that trembled past parted lips, in each moment of ecstasy and of pain; the anger and the resentment and the hate gave way, let the world that once was take a hold of the moment you live -bask- in now.

The quiet is broken by a soft murmur of your name, and your chest pulls tight at the sound of it in Ivar’s voice, at the return of the fragile softness, the hidden gentleness, you once were the sole recipient of.

“I have…dreamt of you, these passing years,” He tells you, even a confession such as this traced by underlying anger. He presses yet another kiss to the skin above your heart, “I have missed you.”

“So have I, more…more than I could ever say.” You offer, closing your eyes to keep tears from filling your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave me again.” Ivar whispers, voice so, so quiet.

You release a breath that shakes and trembles past your lips, “You and I are fated to say goodbye, I think. Always were.”

He lifts his head, strikingly blue eyes meeting yours.

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“You have a wife, Ivar, I can’t-…”

“You can be my wife too,” He offers, making your heart both soar and break. “You wouldn’t be queen, but you never minded for pow-…”

“Ivar,” You interrupt, voice shaking, “Listen to what you’re saying. You’re asking me to be your second wife. To take Freydis as my sister-wife.”

“She won’t object,” He says it with such certainty that it sickens you, and you scramble to stand, to part from his embrace. “She’d do anything I asked her to. She will accept.”

You are shaking your head, putting the shield your dress serves as back up over your skin.

“I could never accept,” You tell him, and because you want to linger for a moment longer in the sun, in the brief paradise where you’re allowed to see the real him shining in his blue eyes; you walk closer one last time and let your fingers trace the side of his face lovingly, smiling even if it is a goodbye, “No woman that loves you would settle for half of you.”

Whether you speak of her and her faults, or you and your hopeless heart; you don’t know.

____ ____ ____

Hope you liked this! Thank you so much for reading!!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​ @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​ @chibisgotovalhalla​ @fae-sedai​

[dearfandomdiary]

when she was lonely i was there

Zelda Spellman x witch!reader

Wordcount: 2829

Request: / This is completely self-indulgent, I wanted to write this, so I did. :D

Warnings: Caligari Spell

Author’s note: I have been writing on this for the past almost 8 monts and I finally finished it. And I am very happy with this!

You have always been Zelda's friend, have always stood behind her and stood up for her; you were one of the few who could argue with her without a hex thrown your way. Hilda had jokingly called you Zelda's shadow more than once and you didn't mind. You were happy the way it was even if it meant never letting her into your life the way you wanted to. 

Both of you have started to get closer again just before Zelda had announced that Faustus and her were to be married.

If you didn't have such a tight grip on your glass, it would have slipped from your hand. She shows you the doves and you feel yourself get dizzy. "I thought you were never interested in him? I get that he is...attractive yes but Zelda, I found you hurting yourself at 3 am after I left because you were meeting with him." you say carefully and frown a little.

Zelda laughs and closes the box. "I am not marrying Faustus because I love him, (Y/N). I am marrying him because he is the High Priest." she explains with a chuckle and brushes a hair strand from your face behind your ear. 

You swallow a little. "So you're marrying him because he has power. Doesn't sound right to me either but I- I do hope you know what you are getting yourself into, Zelds." you say and take a rather big gulp and wrap your hands around the glass. It makes you feel bad.

Of course, she would marry him for power. I should have taken that job with the Vatican when it was offered, you think dryly.

Zelda raises an eyebrow and pulls you into a half hug and you place your head on her shoulder. Your body fits perfectly against hers and you can't stop the quiet sigh that slips from your lips. "I know what I am doing and I am perfectly aware of what I am getting myself into. You don't need to worry about me, I am a grown witch." she argues and places her head on yours. "He is just a man." she adds with a smirk and you chuckle.

"Sure. It's just..you know I never had a good feeling with Faustus." you explain and start to absentmindedly tap against the glass.

Zelda smirks and gently takes your hand. "You mean you never liked him. Yes, that I was in fact aware of. Now calm down or I'm gonna have to tie you down." she teases which makes you blush and you mumble an apology.

The ceremony is beautiful. Beautiful but painful to watch. You watch Zelda approach the altar and you curl your nails into the black dress and smile when Zelda locks eyes with you. You feel bad because it doesn't seem right that Zelda is marrying him, him of all the witches and warlocks she could have married instead of you.

You feel the tears building in your eyes and dab at the corner of your right eye, hoping it looks like you are crying out of happiness. Get yourself together! You knew it was never going to happen! you chide yourself and bite the inside of your cheek. 

During the 2 weeks that Zelda is gone, you worry a lot. She had promised to send you postcards but none have arrived yet. You pace the room Spellman living room. "What if something happened? She promised to send at least one postcard, One!" you say with worry and stare into the fireplace. 

Hilda sighs and gently tucks you towards the couch to push you on it. "It's going to be fine. You are worrying too much, love. They're probably just busy. Interim Anti Pope and honeymoon stuff and all." she said and pushed your cup of tea into your hands.

You wrap your fingers around the cup, take a deep breath, and nod. "Yes, Yes of course. I just ... she always wrote to me when I was traveling." you weigh in and drink a big gulp, almost burning your tongue and a hiss comes from your lips.

Your mind drifts off and you wonder how Zelda is doing, wonder if Faustus is at least treating her well and carrying her on his hands as he should. But you can't stop thinking about all the scars and evenings spent helping Zelda with her wounds and you shudder.

You are working on some documents at the academy when Sabrina excitedly tells you that Zelda is back and you immediately leave your desk to greet her.

As you arrive at Faustus‘ office you are greeted with a shocking sight. Zelda in a golden dress with flowers and showing more skin than you saw her showing during all those millennia of friendship. You step towards her with a worried but soft smile and lay a hand on her shoulder.

The redheaded witch turned towards you with a sickeningly sweet smile and a whiskey bottle in her hands. ``Faustus I-´´Her eyes widen in surprise and she puts down the bottle. ``Oh hello! I didn‘t know Faustus and I would be having guests! I would have prepared some tea & some biscuits.´´ she explains in a high voice, so unlike her and it sends shivers down your spine.

You frown and gently guide her towards one of the armchairs. ``I am here for you, Zelds. Not him. I missed you.´´ you say and look at her surprised when she pulls away.

``I do not know you. Faustus never introduced you.´´ she says and turns around to clean the desk. 

Your frown deepens as you stand next to her. ``What do you mean Zelds? We have been friends since 1834. Russia remember? The Vodka and the bed?´´

Zelda straightens her back and opens her mouth when the door opens again and Faustus walks in. ``Faustus!´´ she exclaims and walks to him when he pulls her close into a passionate kiss.

Your face almost automatically turns into disgust before you have the chance to stop yourself. It was enough to think about them kissing, but actually seeing it was too much. You quickly make the decision to leave. To escape the scene and to escape the disaster that is about to come. I need to figure out what happened to her. How can she just forget me like this? you think and step into the hallway.

As you turn to leave, a hand wraps around your biceps and long nails prick into your silk blouse. You are pulled back and fall against a chest. You quickly take a few steps back and look into blue eyes. ``What do you want, Faustus?´´ you hiss, your biceps flexes under his tight grip. His eyes rake over you for a moment and if you hadn‘t been watching him intently you might have missed the mixture of disgust and arousal in his eyes. You almost growl in disgust at him finding your outfit, which was specifically chosen for Zelda who had always enjoyed watching you, and your body attractive.

``Stay away from Zelda, do you understand? We are married. You are to keep your hands to yourself or you will be excommunicated.´´ he says, his voice rough as he glares at you.

``I am still her friend, Faustus! You can‘t forbid me to see her! And you wouldn‘t dare to excommunicate me! I am a Teacher!´´ you hiss and rip your arm out of his grasp, rubbing your biceps; knowing bruises of his nails would form soon.

The dark-haired wizard just raises his eyebrow. ``Watch me.´´ he says with a grin which was more predatory if anything and turns around to enter his office again. He turns his head back to you and adds: ``And it‘s your eminence to you, Sister (Y/N).´´

You scowl at him, the wish to punch him growing as you rub your arm. That vile man could be your new deity for all you care and you wouldn‘t treat him with respect; he does not deserve that respect.

You walk past the door when you see Faustus handing Zelda a music box. You frown and observe them carefully, how Zelda opens the box and her eyes become slightly glassy. Trying to wrap your mind around the situation, you teleport to the mortuary.

When you appear in the living room, Hilda startles and looks at you with big eyes. "What happened??" she asks and jumps up when she sees you tremble.

"She doesn't...She doesn't remember me. She doesn't know who I am, Hilda." your voice grows quiet and you stifle the sob. "Whatever the fuck that bastard did ... he made Zelda forget me. She isn't herself at all and he forbids me to see her..."

The blonde witch wraps her arms around you and pats your back gently. "It’s alright. We will figure this out.’’

It takes two weeks of distance, unwanted distance because every time you see Zelda, Faustus is by her side, that Sabrinastorms into your office, out of breath. "(Y/N)! Do you know where Aunt Zee's music box is?" you frown and watch her pant.

"In her room on the vanity, I think. It's where I saw it last time I tried to talk to her ..." you ask with confusion in your voice. "What's going on? Is it about the curse?" you add and run after her when she already turned around to run.

You arrive at Zelda's room when Sabrina comes out again with the box. "Can-Can you teleport us to the kitchen? I don't- don't have the spell on hand." she has her arms wrapped around the box.

You nod, confused and take her arm. "Alright Alright. Calm down. Deep Breath or you'll puke." you say and mumble the spell as you focus on the mortuary kitchen. When you both appear in the kitchen and your eyes fall on Zelda, in a golden dress with flowers, showing off so much cleavage that you think they are gonna fall out. You gasp when you watch her grinding a rat. "Zelda!" you call out, already on your way to her when Hilda holds you back.

"No, love. Wait." she says and wraps her arm around your waist to hold you back. "There must be a photo in there. Of Zelda. Break it. NOW!" she says and looks over to Sabrina who scrambles to look for the photo. When she finds the photo, she smashes it on the table and you see when Zelda, your Zelda is back.

She stares at the bag before she looks down at herself. "Satan in Hell what am I wearing?!" she asks out loud and scowls.

"HA!" you laugh and wriggle free from Hilda to run towards her. You wrap your arms around her waist and pull her into you. She lets out a surprised gasp and wraps her arms around your neck and kisses your cheek.

You stay like that for several moments before you are pulled apart by Sabrina. The whole time you are in the kitchen, Zelda doesn't leave your side. She has her arm around your waist, her head on your shoulder; you missed this. Missed the intimacy, her wish to stay close even if she pretended not to.

It takes another 2 weeks for Zelda to call you.

You've just gotten home from the academy when the phone starts ringing. You finish pouring yourself a glass of wine and you quickly walk over to it. "(Y/L/N)? How can I help you?" you ask and take a sip.

There's silence for a few seconds before you hear Zelda's voice. Shaky and quiet. "C-Can you come over? I know it's late, but I need you here." she asks and you hear her feet shuffling.

"Of course, Zelds. I'll bring two bottles of wine." you reply with a grin and before you hang up you hear her whispering 'Thank you'.

You quickly take two bottles plus your glass and teleport to her; your focus mainly on not spilling the glass. As you appear in the living room you spill just a little bit and you grin proudly at the redheaded woman seated on the couch. "Hello there!" you declare with a bright grin. Zelda chuckles lightly and almost in a flash she's in front of you and wraps her arms around you. You gasp out and hold the glass further away. "Let me put this down and then I'll hug you all you want, mh?" you say.

She lets go of you and takes the bottles from you, puts them on the table and, when you've put down the glass, hugs you again. "Thank you for coming over." she mumbles into your neck, her face buried there to hide the tears.

You gently brush over her curls and kiss the top of her head. "It's alright, Zelds. That's what I am here for." you explain softly and carefully guide her back so when you sit down, she cuddles up to you close.

Only now do you realize that she's in her sleepwear and that neither her hair nor her makeup is made. "Zelds? Did you have a nightmare?" you ask, gently brushing a hair strand behind her ear so you can catch a glimpse of her tightly shut eyes. She shakes her hair quickly, too quickly for your liking, and makes herself even smaller, you realize she must feel your gaze on her. You frown and carefully tilt her chin up, her eyes opening slowly. "It's not a thing to be ashamed of. Especially after what you've gone through." you stroke her cheek and smile softly when her frown lessens. "You don't have to tell me what you've dreamt of. How about we drink a little something and I'll tell you all about my day."

As you go to grab your glass, you feel soft lips on yours and freeze, your hand stuck in the air and your eyes wide. Right before you want to respond though, the lips disappear again and the weight against you vanishes as well. You watch as Zelda scrambles back and you silently curse for not reacting sooner.

You quickly get to your feet, almost falling over them, and halt in front of Zelda who, bless her soul, is stuttering for an apology. Your lips are connected with her before you even understand what she's saying. Your hands find their way on her cheeks and you pull her close, her hands falling to your waist.

She gasps against your lips and places her hands on your cheeks, pulling you closer. Her left hand wraps around your neck and together you fall back on the couch, Zelda landing on top of you. You immediately pull her into your lap and wrap your arms tight around her torso.

“Finally!” comes the tired but happy voice of Hilda from the doorway and you both snap up to look at her. “I am very glad you two have resolved that tension but do be a bit quieter. It’s past Midnight.” she smirks at you and Zelda before yawning.

The redhead glares at her sister and you laugh, kissing her cheek. “Will do!” you explain and pull Zelda back into a kiss before she can do anything.

Hilda giggles and leaves, leaving you two in the living room cuddled close.

Zelda gasps as she feels your hands splaying over your waist and pulls back slightly, your lips following hers. “C-Can we..hmmm..(Y/N)..” she mumbles against your lips.

You now pull back and look at her with a smile. “Hm?” your hands stop on her waist and you watch her slowly opening her eyes. It's like a dream come true, after all these centuries of constant pining you are finally able to hold her, kiss her. You hope this won't be over any time soon, you hope she won’t regret this.

“What I wanted to say, can we just..cuddle? After everything, I don't want to rush this.” her voice is low as she speaks, careful and it makes you wonder what else he has done to her.

You cup her cheek and kiss her forehead. “Of course Zelds. I wasn't going to do anything anyway. I have been waiting for this moment for the past 171 years.” you reply with a smile. “So I can wait however long you want me to.”

The High Priestess smiles softly and kisses you again, her arms now wrapped around your neck. “Thank you..” she mumbles against your lips and you hum, with one hand grasping for the blanket that is thrown over the chair.

You two fall asleep in each other's arms on the couch and for the first time in a long time Zelda sleeps through the night, a fact she tells you later at breakfast, and from that moment, you spend as many nights as you can, and most days, together.

[hops-hunny]

On Your Marks, Get Set, Go!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.5k

Request: @de4d-s0up“36,38,12 for Neville!❤️ fem reader and surprise me it can be fluff or smut OH OK IM EXCITED NOW😌 CONGRATS ON 300 BABES SO PROUD OF YOU<3”

Summary: (Y/n) spends so much time in Neville’s shadow that when she’s brought to the light she suffers from some massive stage fright and forgets her lines (not literally but like this sounds clever and you’ll get it soon. Just fuckin read it, yeah?

Warnings: None! A little angst but nothing too big, just majority fluff fluff fluff!

A/N: Can I just say that I love how well these flow together?? LIKE UGH YOU ALWAYS GIVE ME SOME GOOD SHIT TO WORK WITH!! This was very fun to write so tysm!

36.Admirer

38.Caught

12.“I’ve always liked you, you’ve just never noticed.”

If you were to ask (Y/n) who was the most attractive guy in the castle, she would 1000% say it was Neville Longbottom. For as long as she could remember, she was absolutely mesmerized by him and with time, he had gone from the adorable little guy she’d see in the hall into a charming young man who she could not be anywhere near. Yes he had a tendency to be a bit socially awkward sometimes but if anything, that added to his charm and if anything that made it even harder to talk to him. She didn’t want to have to face such an awkward interaction on why she was approaching him despite them not being friends nor having any classes together.

So she watched from afar, following him around the halls, sticking close to him whenever she could. It wasn’t in a creepy way however! She just found him to be beautiful and she couldn’t help herself. The more she thought about it she did sound like a stalker but that was such a strong word. And if he didn’t know of her existence could there really be any harm to what she was doing? That’s what she thought to herself as she stood behind the pillar, observing him as he conversed with his friends. Neville was currently laughing at something Dean had said as he shoved Seamus. (Y/n) couldn’t help the smile that was beginning to form at the boy’s laughter. His smile was simply contagious, a ray of sunshine indeed! She sighed to herself softly before biting the inside of her cheek.

“I wish he’d smile at me like that.” she murmured softly as to not alert them of her presence. If only she could speak, say even just one word to him. But alas, anytime she even attempted an utterance of a word her brain would short circuit and she went running the opposite way. It just wasn’t fair! She held tightly onto her books as dust fell from above her head, her (e/c) eyes growing wide as dust made its way into her nose. “O-oh no. Please, please ple-” she was cut off by the exact thing she didn’t want, a loud sneeze. She groaned, training her eyes to the ground in front of her. However if her luck wasn’t bad already a familiar pair of brown shoes stopped right in front of her. (Y/n) quickly snapped her head up looking at the boy of her affections. Neville stood in front of her, searching the pocket of vest for something until he pulled out a pale yellow handkerchief.

“You alright, love? That was some sneeze.” He said, holding out the small fabric to her as he offered her a small smile. She was stunned, Neville was talking to her. She kept her eyes locked with him with a shocked expression mouth agape. ‘Don’t just stand there!! Speak! Move! Do SOMETHING!!’. She slowly began to take small steps backwards, shaking her head ‘no’ frantically as she ran off down the hallway not even noticing she had dropped the little brown leather notebook she always kept on her. The gryfindor boy made a soft frown as he reached down, picking up the book. He flipped it open looking for a name relieved when he found a name on the inner cover. “(Y/n) (L/n), 6th year. Huh, I wonder why I’ve never seen her before?” He said to no one in particular as he walked back to Seamus and Dean who were laughing at the scene that had just played out in front of them.

“Geez Nev, we knew you were bad with women but that’s a whole new level!” Seamus choked out through laughs, reaching a freckled hand up to wipe the tears that had formed in his state of hysteria.

“Yeah seriously! What the hell did you even say?” Dean said, coming down from his laughter. Neville frowned some, shrugging his shoulders as he scratched the back of his head.

“I’ve got no clue. I saw she had sneezed and offered her my cloth and after I did that she just ran off! Is there something in my teeth? Do I smell bad?” He questioned, sniffing at his pits to check for any suspicious odor but found nothing but the smell of his body wash and deodorant. 

“No you don’t smell bad. Well no worse than usual that is.” Seamus said with a shrug. Neville rolled his eyes flicking him on the forehead with a scowl.

“You’re one to talk! Your natural scent is smoke and sweat, I don’t wanna hear it from you.” He grumbled out, shifting his eyes back to the book in his hands. The girl was clearly frightened of him, how was he supposed to get it back to her? “I just feel so bad, I don’t know what I did to make her so scared of me. I’ll wait a bit before I give it back to her.”

----------------------------------------

And he had done just that. (Y/n) had noticed her journal was missing but didn’t think much of it. She had a habit of losing things and assumed it would get back to her in some way and plus, it wasn’t that important. It was just filled with notes and sketches of the different mushrooms she had found on the castle grounds. Whenever she had a free period or a bit of free time on her hands, one of her favorite things to do was identify rare breeds of fungi and other various plants. And although she had missed doing that, it had only been a week and it's not like she didn’t have parchment. The only thing that was frustrating about that was that parchment and scrolls lacked the same convenience that notebooks had. (she didn’t know why Hogwarts wouldn’t just get with the times. Where were they, Camelot?)However she had faith one of her friends would bring it back to her. (Y/n) didn’t have many which is why she wondered what was taking so long for the return of her notebook.

“Hey guys, have you seen my notebook? You know the little brown one I always carry?” she asked, plopping down on the old worn down couch in the (y/h/h) common room.

“Hmm, nope! Last time I saw it you were carrying it. Why? Did you lose it?” Gwen said as she continued to read her book.

“You’re so bad with keeping track of things. You’d lose your head if it wasn’t on your shoulders.” Marco said, rolling his eyes at his friend's irresponsible behavior.

“Oh come on that was ONE time! When the potion said it’d blow your head off I didn’t think it meant quite literally!” she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. Her eyes lit up as she was reminded of a detail. “And besides, didn’t you drink that exact potion afterwards because you wanted to know what it felt like to have no head?”

Marco was silent, whistling as he avoided eye contact with his friend before his eyes landed on a familiar lanky brunette holding a certain little book that had been missing. “Hey, isn’t that the guy you fancy? He’s got your book!” he said, pointing in the direction in which Neville was coming from. (Y/n) gasped, gathering her stuff as she muttered something about ‘being late to class’ but right as she stood up, she was yanked back down by Gwen. “Woah, not so fast track star! How are you going to get your book if you leave?”

“Y-you can give it to me! Tell him you know me. See ya!” she said standing back up but once again, she was yanked back down. “Would you quit it?!”

“No can do buckeroo. You’ve gotta get your book back somehow. Neville’s a pretty honorable guy, I highly doubt he’s gonna give your book to some people who could possibly know you. He’d wanna give it directly to you himself.” Gwen said, still not looking up from her book. (Y/n) let out a defeated sigh. She was right. Neville is the type to make sure to get back a lost item to the person themselves to avoid any chance of them not receiving it. She knew that better than anyone.

Neville wiped his free hand on his pants leg, eliminating the thin layer of sweat that had gathered on it. He was nervous to say the least. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any female friends, it was just that the female friends he did have didn’t look at him like he was you-know-who himself. Since their last meeting, he had thought about the girl a lot. He couldn’t recall seeing her before and he wasn’t the type of person people hated without any rhyme or reason so it baffled him. Someone found him intimidating? That was a new one! Neville had taken the liberty of asking his friends what he could do to be more welcoming for people but they all just seemed to laugh in his face or scoff. 

He found the question to be an absurd one for him to be asking too but for some reason, all he wanted to do was be less scary. Less scary and more approachable to the girl so maybe, maybe he could talk to the mysterious beauty who he’d never notice. That was another thing that made him quite angry. In all his years of Hogwarts, how hadn’t he noticed such a rose in its prime? Even in her frazzled state her refinement was more than apparent. She had beautiful glowing (e/c) eyes, the cutest little nose, and two beautiful petals that were more commonly known as lips. Even now as he got closer and she had that same damn look on her face, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on and he had done a lot more than just laying his eyes on girl’s.

“I-I believe this belongs to you?” He said, holding the book out in front of her. However, all the girl did was stare up at him with wide (e/c) eyes and her pretty little lips parted in horror. The girl to her right cleared her throat, nudging her not so blasé

 in her action. (Y/n) shifted to her eyes before quickly bringing them back to Neville as she closed her mouth. “Well it’s not that I believe it belongs to you, I know it’s yours. You dropped it when you ran away from me the other day.” He said looking away as he scratched the back of his head with his hand, running his fingers through his luscious locks of brown. “Now that I think about it, that doesn’t automatically make it yours. I’m sorry for assuming! You could’ve been holding onto it for a friend or or-”

“It’s hers. Thank you Neville, that was very kind of you and I’m sure (Y/n) appreciates it. Right (Y/n)?” Gwen asked, handing her the book from the boy's hands. (Y/n) just continued to stare. No movement, no indication that she did appreciate it.

“I’ve always liked you, you just never noticed.” she said softly, continuing on with her intense gaze. Her breath hitched as her eyes almost popped out of her head, both hands flying to her mouth. Not one person spoke, all her friend’s and Neville were just as shocked as she was at the announcement. “No, no, no. Fuck!” she mumbled with a great emphasis on the last word. She quickly stood up, running away making sure to not forget her book this time. 

(Y/n) continued to whip and run through the hallway, going as fast as her legs could carry her. She paid no mind to where she was going and quite frankly she didn’t care. Anywhere far away from Neville was good enough. If him catching her behind the pillar that day was the biggest embarrassment of the year, this was the biggest embarrassment of the century. How could she speak so freely, so carelessly? All those years of sneaking around, admiring him from a far were thrown down the drain. Things would never be able to go back to how they were without him noticing her there. She slid down the wall, pulling her knees to her chest as she sobbed loudly. It didn’t matter, no one came to this hallway so she didn’t have to think about what would happen if someone heard her. She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve before glancing at the book at her side. Out of a fit of rage she picked it up, throwing it at the wall in front of her. She watched as the book fell with a thud, pages open to a random observation she had made about a spore specimen.

“I’m starting to think I’m bad luck. It appears as though anytime I’m around, you’ve got tears coming out of those pretty little eyes of yours.” Neville said softly, kneeling in front of the girl. (Y/n) brought her head up, (e/c) eyes staring into hazel ones.

“You...you think my eyes are pretty?” she questioned, tilting her head some as she sat up a bit straighter. Neville reached forward, gripping her small hand in his much larger one.

“Not just pretty, the prettiest. After I met with you that first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about them all night. Despite how horrified you looked at me, they were still the prettiest shade of (e/c) I’d ever seen.” He said, smiling softly at the girl’s flustered expression. “You know I’m a bit relieved to know that you like me.”

“R-really? Why’s that?” (Y/n) questioned, gripping his hand back as he helped pull her off the ground.

“Because, that means you don’t think of me as some scary monster! I was beginning to grow quite worried, y’know?” He said, chuckling a bit. (Y/n) gasped, smacking him on the shoulder a bit.

“Hey! I was not that bad….was I?” she asked, looking into his eyes. Neville bit his lip, looking away from her. “Oh come on! Can you blame me though? I’ve had a crush on you since we were on the train to Hogwarts for the first time. I remember I was so angry that I wasn’t the one who found Trevor for you.” she said, clinging onto his arm a bit. Neville looked a bit shocked at that revelation. Most girls didn’t pay him much attention till around 5th year, had she really liked him for that long?

“Does that mean that this,” he leaned down, pecking her on the lips before pulling away, “Was your first kiss?” He asked. (Y/n) had that same expression she had during the encounter a bit ago however this time, something was a bit different. She gripped his shirt before bringing his lips back down to hers kissing him with feverish intensity. Neville let out a small moan, gripping at her waist tightly as he pinned her against the wall causing her feet to dangle in the air.

(Y/n) was right on something, things would never be the same. But sometimes change was good. That was proven to her as Neville had his tongue down her throat.

[vanillafrog]

Friends

Pairing: Tovar/You

Summary: When two mercenaries come to your village, you decide that you want to befriend the one who seems to be isolated from the rest of the town.

Word Count: 2315

Warnings: fluff!! mild sexual harassment, strangers to friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote all of this in Tik-Tok dms and I’m not sorry for it. I also really love Tovar even if he is a stinky smelly man

Tovar is a stoic man. He doesn’t talk much, if at all, in new environments or around new people. The ever permanent scowl on his face didn’t exactly made strangers want to come talk to him either. Not that he minded all too much, the less people around him, the better.   

When Tovar came to your village alongside William, everyone was instantly hesitant of the Spaniard. They welcomed William with open arms however. It saddened you to see neglected based on face value alone. You knew all too well what it felt like to be based on looks.   

Since you were of age, many men had come to your door in hopes of courting you. Some even daring enough to ask your father for your hand in marriage. You rejected each and everyone’s advance. There just wasn’t an attraction to any of the village men. Besides, when working in the tavern, you knew how truly slimy they were.    

So you tried to talk to Tovar one afternoon as he tended to his steed. When you said “hello”, he ignored you until you tried again. He simply turned to you, eyes roaming your figure quite differently from men you knew. While others looked at you like you were an object, he looked at you as if you were potential danger. Much like a frightened rabbit in the form of a bear.   

“What?” he practically growled out.   

You introduced yourself and he scoffed at you. He turned back to grooming his steed when you tried once more to make conversation with the introverted man. “Your horse is beautiful.”   

Tovar side eyed you and hummed in agreement. For a few moments without anymore of a response from him, you sighed. 

“The villagers seemed quite scared of you.”   

“As they should be,” he responded without thought.    

“Why should they be?” you asked with a slight tilt of your head.   

“I am a killer.”    

“Is William also not a killer?” Tovar snapped his head back towards you, truly looking at you for the first time.   

“What do you want, princessa?”   

“To be your friend.” He scoffed once more at you making you frown at him. “Do you not believe me?”   

“I do not,” he set the brush down before moving to stand in front of you. You refused to back away from him, to show him you were scared of him. “What is it that you truly want from me?”   

“Have you never met someone who didn’t want something from you?” His glare sharpened as he crowded into your space.    

“There are no people out there would don’t want anything.” Tovar practically hissed out.   

“I just want to be your friend, nothing more, nothing less.”   After a while of staring at you, he backed away. When he turned back to grab his brush, you let out a breathe you didn’t know you were holding. He didn’t say anything else as he began to brush his horse once more. You frowned at him before leaving the stables.   

Though you left, you were determined to make him like you. So you cheated slightly. When he arrived, the village had a bonfire with plenty of food to welcome the mercenaries to your home. Tovar had eaten as though he hadn’t had a proper meal in months. Perhaps he hadn’t. But that gave you enough inside into how to break down the stone fortress of his heart.    

The next day at roughly the same time, you found Tovar sitting just behind the cottage him and William were lodging at. He appeared to be whittling a branch into something. You watched him for a moment, tightening your grip on the basket before relaxing with a deep exhale. With a smile on your face, you walked over to him.    

He noticed you as you approached. His frown deepened as he saw you before turning his attention back to the branch in his hands. You lowered yourself to sit beside him, a respectful distance between the two of you. He tensed.    

“I made you some pastries,” you said as you removed the cloth from over the basket. Inside was a dozen, slightly over, of sweetbreads you woke up early to make. Tovar glared at you beige glancing down at the food. He hesitated, looking back and forth between the food and you. “It’s all for you.”   

“Why?” His voice was rough from disuse. Through the scowl on his face, you saw something akin to sadness in his eyes.    

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to be your friend.” You reached into the basket and pulled out a pastry, holding it out of him as a peace offering. Once again, he hesitated before settling the knife and stick down beside him. His fingers brushed yours as he grabbed the bread from you. A shiver ran down your spine at the feel of his skin against yours. You ignored it. Instead you chose to watch the way he sniffed the bread before taking a large bite out of it.   

A giggle escaped out your mouth before you could stop it as you watched he practically devour the pastry. He seemed to shy away from your joy, most likely thinking you were laughing at his expense. Instead, you grab another pastry and hand it to him. “I’m glad you like my baking. I woke up earlier than usual to make these.”   

He grabbed the pastry from you again, eating this one similarly to the other one. You smiled as you watched with, glad to see him loosen up just slightly. Once he finished the treat, you stood up. He watched from the ground as you wiped off the back of your dress. You turned to him once more and with a smile you said, “I’ll leave you to it. Hopefully, we’ll talk again soon.” With a small bow of your head, you walked away from him, ignoring the way his eyes left a trail from fire down your body as he watched you. 

Weeks passed and with them, a friendship bloomed. It was slow of course. Gaining the trust of a grumpy man was hard work but you knew it would be worth it. You just hoped that one day, you would be able to see his smile.  

When you first had that particular thought, it startled you. It was true that you loved to see friends smile but this was a longing you hadn’t felt before. A longing to be the reason behind such a scarce and sacred grin.    

It took only two weeks of feeding Tovar for you to recognize that perhaps your intentions from the beginning weren’t so platonic after all. You, however, knew you trapped yourself in a corner the moment you offered him only friendship.   

When you asked your friends for advice, they all seemed shell shocked at your willingness to be near the scary man. Despite your reassurances he was of no danger to anyone, they tried to convince you to befriend (and potentially marry) a different man. William was one that seemed to highly recommend. You just frowned at them and continued on with your daily meetings with Tovar.   

This day was much like any other. You had a basket of food for Tovar, who you noticed seemed to have gained some weight during his time at your village. You were secretly pleased to see it as winter was beginning to rear its head and he could use all the warmth he could get. He also seemed much healthier than before. Besides, it also meant he truly did enjoy your cooking.    

As you walked to the stables where you knew he would be, you were stopped by Gregor. He had once tried to court you to no avail. He was much too flamboyant for you. “Yes?” you asked nicely.   

“Is it true you have been seeing the Spaniard every day?” He asked straight to the point.   

“I do not see how that is relevant to anyone else.” You moved to step around him but he blocked you once more.   

“I do not wish to see you hurt.” Gregor touched your arm making you flinch away from him.   

“I assure you that Tovar will not hurt me now please get out of my way.” Your tone was sharp like the sword the two traveling mercenaries carried with them. Gregor stared at you as though you had grown another head before side stepping and letting you pass. You gave him a scalding glare before stomping pass him.   

On your walk, you thought of things to calm yourself down. You thought of evening walks around the village. Of watching the children play together right before supper. The way the sun hit the trees just right and casted dark shadows over the pathways. How some evenings you were able to watch Tovar interact with William in a way only those close would ever.    

Plastering a smile onto your face once more, you stepped into the stable only for it to fall. Tovar’s back was pressed flat to the wall as a so called “friend” pressed her chest to his. She was running her hands along his chain mail armor and cooing at him. Your stomach knotted, wanting to run away from the scene and never talk to either of them again but then you noticed him.    

Tovar’s scowl was deeper than anything you’ve ever had aimed at you. He was tensed and his hands were bunched into fists at his side. It was clear as day that he was uncomfortable with her advances and knowing that eased some of the pain from your chest.    

You cleared your throat, drawing both of their attention to you. Your friend smiled at you and gave you a cheery greeting while Tovar seemed to grimace harder, shrinking into himself. With a fake smile, you said while looking her in the eyes, “Could you leave please? You’re making my friend quite uncomfortable and this is the only time we get to have together.” She seemed shocked by your bluntness before she covered it with a slimy smile.   

“I think we were doing just fine.” She turned to bat her eyelashes back up at Tovar. “We were just getting to know each other.”   

“I doubt you need to be that close to get to know one another.” Tovar snorted making your friend glare at you. She huffed as she pulled away from him. When she walked pass you, she allowed her shoulder to bump into yours but you remained still until she was no longer in sight. Only then did Tovar seem to relax.   

He nodded at you in gratitude before taking his seat at the only bench in the stables. You walked over to him as always and sat the basket next to him. His hand grabbed yours before you could move. “Thank you.” He said to you, the usual edge in his voice dulled down.    

“Of course,” you responded with a smile, squeezing his hand before letting it drop. Removing the cloth off the basket, you sat down next to him. When you noticed he didn’t go for the food immediately, you looked back over to him. He stared at you intensely.   

“How did you know I was uncomfortable?” Tovar finally asked after letting you both simmer in an oddly tense moment.   

“You’re not too difficult to read once someone knows you.” You moved to reach into the basket only for Tovar to gently grab your hand once more. His skin was hot against your chilled hand. Blinking up at him, you waited for him to say something. He didn’t. He just explored your face with his eyes, as through there was a secret to be unlocked. His tongue dipped out to wet his lips, catching your attention for just a moment. A moment long enough for Tovar to notice.   

“Was that truly the only reason you stepped in?” He moved the basket to the other side of him before scooting closer to you, his thigh burning yours as he pressed them together. You gulped.   

“What?” Your voice low, mousey even.   

“You are also not that difficult to read once someone knows you.” Tovar placed his hand on the middle of your thigh. His hand large enough to cover the whole thing.    

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you are referencing.” For the first time since you met him, your heart beat brutally hard against your rib cage but not out of fear. It was another feeling entirely. One that you knew wouldn’t just go away especially after watching his lips spread into a deliriously sweet smile.    

“We both know you aren’t naive enough to not know what I’m talking about.”   

“Do we both know that?” Tovar shook his head at you, a huff of a chuckle escaping him. He left go of your hand, reaching around your head to hold the back of your neck. Your heart beat impossible faster. For a moment you were scared it would hammer its way out of your chest especially as Tovar’s thumb rubbed gently at your pulse point.   

“Bonita,” he whispered before leaning in and pressing the faintest of kisses upon your lips. As he pulled away, your brain had finally caught up. You leaned forward to kiss him back. He hummed happily against you. It was slow, passionate and filled with emotions you weren’t sure you would ever share with another. You lifted your hands to cups his cheeks, pulling him deeper into the kiss. His grip tightened on your thigh as he licked into your mouth, moaning at the taste of you.   

As you both finally pulled away from each other, you breathed deeply. Tovar bumped his nose against yours, letting you feel his smile against your lips.   

“Friends and nothing more, right?” He teased.    

“Oh hush,” you replied as you pulled him in for another mind blowing kiss.   

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 VI

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, oral, violence, degradation)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The king proves to be mercurial and you prove to be foolish.

Note: Masterlist update coming today @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor​. Updates might be sporadic from here on out because despite the world being utter shit, Black Friday still exists.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The air was fragrant as you sat on the low bench, wrapped in only a robe, and stared out the window. On the other side of the room, Loki dressed with the help of the young boy, Hal. The steam of his bath still dissipated in the air as he grumbled now and then, often drinking deeply from his glass and pouring another slosh of water from the pitcher.

It was as if you weren’t there. How easily the king forgot about all but himself. He dressed in dark blue that day, trimmed in an ivory cape and boots. He swatted Hal away and touched his temple as the sunlight made him squint. He sighed and brushed his fingers through the ends of his dark locks.

“Today will be the riding events. I did excuse myself from those lists.” He spoke, almost as if to himself. “Tomorrow I will be in better condition to win at the blade.”

You were quiet as you drew your legs up onto the bench. You slouched over your knees and rested your chin on your crossed arms.

“I will be gone much of the day but I expect you ready upon my return,” he neared and his shadow loomed over you, “You will undoubtedly be eager for it… From what I recall of last evening, you might even be begging for it.”

You glowered up at him as he smirked and winced then tapped his forehead.

“What am I to do? I have nothing but to walk the boards and stare out at the grass. I will be mad by the time you return.” You muttered as you turned your head away.

“All the better,” he slithered. He lifted his toe and swiveled his heel. He exhaled deeply. “Well, what should you like to do?”

“Besides the obvious?” You sneered.

“Perhaps, if you behave, I will see you to a stroll among the corridors when all are retired, but for now I cannot offer much more.” He sniffed, “So, what is it you peasants occupy your time with?”

You blinked and rubbed your cheek as you thought. You hadn’t much besides your work and your occasional adventures with Gilla. Neither would be viable now.

“I might try to sketch?” You looked up at last.

He considered you with a wrinkle in his brow and nodded. “I will grant you the favour upon the promise of one in kind,” he said, “...upon my return.”

You bit down. You expected as much but it still irked you. You turned to the window again.

“As you wish, your majesty.” You stared out at the green leaves that crested the branches of the palace yards. You felt him watch you a moment longer before he retreated.

“Hal, you will fetch her paper and some charcoal,” his soft soles approached the door, “Tend to her meals as you will and draw her a bath. She is starting to smell a bit… common.”

“Your majesty,” Hal chirped and followed the king through to the receiving chambers.

You listened as the doors opened and closed and you dropped your legs over the edge of the bench as you leaned against the wall. You grunted in frustration and hit the bench with your fist. It was exactly what Loki wanted; you at his mercy. Those small requests would grow to desperate pleas. His ploy was working but you could do little to keep him from controlling you entirely.

🐍

You weren’t very good at drawing but you managed a sloppy image of the scene through the window. The trees were slightly crooked and the gate uneven but it kept you busy for a time. You turned to a blank sheet but couldn’t focus enough to draw as you could hear the distant audience from the other side of the glass.

The common folk didn’t often attend these events. If they were present, they were selling wares to those lords and ladies who gathered for the pageantry. Still, trapped in the endless monotony, you longed to join the festivity. Anything but to sit within those walls and wait until your tormentor returned. Even if he could make you feel splendid, the king was little more than your warden.

As the sun reached its peak, Hal appeared to draw your bath with several attendants. You washed alone and dressed in one of the gowns provided by the king. You hate how the satin clung to your torso even with its boning and how the skirts tickled your legs as they swished.

You ate a little. Your tedium turned to impatience turned to agitation. The day faded from yellow to a calm blue and slowly dimmed beyond the stone walls. The din quieted as the sun descended. The king’s presence loomed in your mind.

You attempted a sketch of a lion statuette and relinquished the charcoal in frustration. Hal appeared with two covered plates on a tray and set them on the table. He placed a bottle of wine and some goblets alongside them and left you without a word. The boy seemed nervous since your prior conversation.

The king entered without fanfare. You looked up at him as you were distracted from the trance that had you staring into the unlit hearth. He glanced over at you and frowned. He tutted and removed his cape.

“I am aware your etiquette is unrefined but you will rise and pay your obeisance to me upon my arrival,” he uttered, “Do not think I grow negligent in my expectation of you, little mouse.”

You stood stiffly and bowed. He sat at the table and huffed.

“Well, get over here,” he pointed to the other chair, “Pour some wine.”

You crossed to the table and filled a goblet for him. Your own, you only filled to the half point. You sat and uncovered your plate as he did the same. He poked at the food. He was annoyed already.

“Are you not hungry?” He asked as he twirled his fork. “I am informed your plates are left barely touched as late.”

“I am,” you scooped up a potato, “I will eat.”

He tilted his head and considered you. He dropped his fork and leaned back in his seat. “Do not force yourself on my account,” he said, “If you do not appreciate the fare, then you may forego your supper.”

“Your majesty, I will--”

“No, no, as I recall, you owe me,” he glanced at the paper on the edge of the table and the sticks of charcoal, “And as I do anticipate an early morning on account of the competition, I would rather we sort this out sooner.”

He dropped a hand down and picked at the laces of his trousers, “Come, under the table,” he bid, “If you will not eat then you may use your mouth for other means.”

You glared at him, mortified. You brought your fork to your lips and he was quick to rise and bat it away. The top of his pants drooped as you dropped the silver and you blanched at him. He dropped back into his chair.

“I do not issue requests, I give orders. Now on your knees or I will have you even quicker on your back.”

“Then do it already,” you snarled, “I tire of your boasting.”

He stood once more, this time so abrubtly that his chair toppled behind him. He was upon you in a moment, his hands around your head as he forced you to your feet. His eyes flared down at you as you grabbed onto his arms and wrestled with him. You stumbled as he dragged you around the chamber he angled you toward the settee.

He shoved you down and slipped a hand down to your throat as he straddled you beneath him. He slid his hand down the front of his open trousers and pulled out his hard member. He lifted his knees and moved up to pin down your shoulders. He squeezed your throat tightly as he bent over you and guided his cock to your lips.

“You bite me and I will have your teeth on the floor,” he threatened, “Now open for your king.”

You clenched your lips but as your breath dwindled, you gasped and he quickly slipped inside your mouth. He sank down your throat as he brought his hand up above your head and thrust his hips roughly. You choked and kicked out. You slapped his thighs as you struggled to breathe.

He groaned as his hips slammed down harder and harder. You gagged and your eyes lolled back as your vision swam with tears.

“You do push me when I am already… inflamed,” he grunted, “When my temper has already been stoked by incompetents.”

He fucked your face without relent as you were trapped beneath him. His fingers stretched over your head and he sped up once more. He panted as he chased his end and when it rose, he flooded your throat without warning. He continued to rock into you until you swallowed around him. He shivered at the sensation and sat back as he slowly drew himself from your mouth.

His cock glistened as he rested his weight on your chest and steadied himself. He swallowed and hung his head back. Without looking, he poked two fingers into your mouth. Without thinking, you gnashed his digits between your teeth. You were met quickly with a strike across your cheek.

He wiggled his fingers, further pained by the slap, and growled.

“Must you insist on difficulty,” he pushed himself off of you and tucked away his cock. He grabbed your arm and wrenched you onto the floor. “There you are.” He jabbed you with his toe. “You can spend your night there.”

He shoved you back with his boot and spun away from you. He went to the table and took the heel of bread from his plate and the entire bottle of wine. “No supper for you. If I see that you’ve so much as stolen a crumb, I will whip you myself.”

He stomped to the bedroom doors and looked back at you one last time. “And leave the boy alone. He is not your friend.”

🐍

You stayed on the floor but didn’t sleep much. Little hazes but nothing more. Loki stirred in the next room and you turned to face the wall. You didn’t move as a knock sounded shortly after. The young boy seemed to always sense when he was required. He entered and hesitated as he passed you before the settee. He carried on and you let out the air in your lungs.

You heard the king’s voice and the activity that followed his awakening. When he emerged, you remained as you were. He ordered Hal around as he sat to tie his boots. He scoffed as he rose and swept towards the door.

“I know you are awake, mouse,” he said, “Let’s not make deception a habit.”

You refused to respond and he huffed. The door opened and he paused in the doorway. “See to her meals, boy.” His voice shifted direction, “Sir, you will watch the door.”

A grumble came in response to the orders as the door snapped shut. You rolled onto your back and sat up. The morning light made your head pulse and your eyelids drooped heavily. You pulled yourself up onto the settee and buried your face in the cushion. You hadn’t the energy to stay mad, you only needed sleep. It wasn’t long before it came.

When you woke, you were groggy. A plate awaited you on the table and the same buzz floated from outside the walls. Another day of sport and you were, as ever, pent up inside on the king’s whim. You slunk over to the table and ate without tasting. Your stomach ached until it was satisfied.

You stood and paced. You stopped at the window as you tried to get a glimpse of the tents erected around the tourney grounds but the silk offered little sign of what was unfolding. You hated that you had to wait, it was all you did. The king had chosen your punishment well. This purgatory was worse than any dungeon.

You marched back and forth. Your anger began to bubble over. Well, if he should have you do nothing, you will find something to keep yourself occupied. Perhaps you might tear down the drapes or dismantle the framed pictures of his smug ancestors. What worse could he do that he did not intend already?

You kicked the door as you passed it and your toe throbbed. Your slippers offered little padding and you swore. Further enraged by your pain, you punched the door. You stopped and listened through the wood. You could hear the drafty emptiness of the halls. Cautiously, you rested your hand on the handle and pressed until the lever lifted. 

You pulled the door an inch inward and waited for it to be forced back into place. But you met no resistance and poked your head into the corridor. There was no guard, no passing resident, no spy you could see. You retreated and steadied your nerves. Was it a trick? A trap? Either way, it was too much to deny.

You went to the wardrobe and took down the grey cloak hung within. You tied it at your throat and peered back into the halls. Still, no keeper to stop you from your escape. Well, it would only be a brief sojourn. You only wanted to see the games. To know what made the crowd so raucous.

You hesitated. If the king discovered your flight, you would be in dire trouble. Yet, he was competing himself and wouldn’t even know. So long as you were back before your guard. Where was that lug anyhow?

You put your foot down lightly. You slowly leaned your weight on it and stepped out into the hall, testing its vacancy. Still, you were alone. You pulled up your hood and closed the door behind you. You weren’t certain which way to go in the immense palace.

You lost yourself several times over before you found the stairs. You scurried down the steps and hid your face as well as you could as you passed by servants in their aprons and caps. You felt as if they all knew, as if any would accost you and report your offense back to the king.

But they didn’t and you kept on until you stumbled in disbelief onto the green. You followed the scent of roasting beef and the wall of voices to the cluster of tents along the sporting field. There were benches set on platforms to house the observers; the ladies waving their handkerchiefs and the older lords cheering on their favourites.

You stood before the steps of the stands and glanced around. Surely you were being followed. You couldn’t have just walked out onto the green so easily. It felt too simple. It felt a snare but yet you kept going.

You climbed up and pushed down your hood as no other wore theirs. You needed to blend in with the crowd. You walked behind a row of ladies as they stood and called out to the field. You stopped behind them and stood on tiptoes to see past them. Two contestants in armor charged at each other with blunted blades. The tourneys had long since traded real steel for training weapons. The forgers often complained of the flimsy designs.

You edged past the line of ladies and upon a closer look, you recognised the fighters. The prince, Thor, fought in red armor with a lion on its helm, and his brother, the king, faced him with serpents across his breast plate. As you heard it, the custom was to allow the monarch a victory.

Still, the audience held its breath as the swords crashed together once more. The much larger royal barely missed his brother with a fearsome strike. Loki was quick and kicked out Thor’s leg. The elder slipped but recovered easily as he batted away the next swing. The two danced around each other; Loki, graceful and light, Thor, lumbering but effective.

As Thor struck down with both hands, Loki deflected him but found the dull blade snapped by the force. He stumbled back and dodged his brother’s next attack. The king was fast but defenseless. He ducked and dove all around but at last found himself cornered by his burly brother. You saw the desperation and the realisation in his posture.

He made an attempt to disarm his brother only to be thrown back. He landed with a thud on his back and the crowd went silent. Thor sheathed his sword and offered his hand to his brother. There was a moment before the gesture was accepted and the king was hauled onto his feet. The men clapped each others’ shoulders politely but all knew there was little comradery between them. Only the prince would dare best the king. And he had dared.

The king waved to the crowd and the competitors were led from the field. The king reached to remove his helm as he walked towards the stall and looked out into the crowd. His jaw was tense and even at a distance you could see his spite. And, you swore, he could see you.

You carefully took a step back and hid behind the figure next to you. You let out a shuddery breath. He could know, now from so far away. You were just another body in the crowd. Well, you had come and seen the fuss. You would have to go before your absence was discovered and the alarm sent up.

You retraced your steps and staggered onto the grass. After such a loss, the king would be even angrier. He did not lie when he said his brother provoked him like no other. A dark foreboding stabbed you.

You already regretted your mistake. A moment of impulsivity had taken you too far. But he hadn’t seen you. He couldn’t have. You were just paranoid. 

You ducked your head down and raced up the palace steps and followed a servant until you found the stairs. You were lost again as you reached the top. The corridors seemed to only lead into each other in circles but at last, you caught your bearings.

You turned the corner that led to the king’s chambers but were suddenly jerked back as a painful grip closed around your arm. Magnus sneered down at you as his hand threatened to crush your bones. He slammed you against the wall and you gasped.

“The king will not be happy with you, wench,” he snarled, “Oh, I think he might just toss you back where you belong.”

“Let go of me,” you rasped, “Ow!”

He shook you with a sharp hiss.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You know what he will do when I reveal to him what you’ve done?” He taunted. 

You gulped down air and croaked out as squirmed helplessly. “And what… about you? What will he think of the guard who let me free?” You trembled as his grey eyes bore into you, “When he learns that your absence allowed for my escape?”

His nostrils flared and he squeezed your arms. His jaw ticked as he stared you down then all at once, his hands dropped. He shoved you away from the wall.

“You keep quiet and go back,” he stomped behind you, “And I won’t snap your neck and tell him you asked for it.”

You went to the door and he was close behind. He reached past you and opened the door so that it hit the wall. He grabbed the back of your neck and dragged you inside. He kicked the back of your legs so that they collapsed and he forced you down to the ground as bent over you.

“I know why the king keeps you, whore,” he spat, “He will tire of you soon and I will delight in throwing you back to the dungeons.” He pushed until your face met the floor. “When he is done, he might just let me finish breaking you.”

He pushed away from you and flipped you with his foot. He clutched his pommel and sneered down at you as he circled you. His chest puffed out and he stopped sharply on his heel.

“A little rat like you will be back to the gutter soon enough,” he backed away as he seemed tempted to draw his blade. “I’ll make sure of it the next time you stray.”

He slammed the door behind him and it shook in his stead. You laid on the floor, paralysed with adrenaline. You blinked up at the ceiling and breathed at last. You were truly out of your depth.

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Easy to Forget Me by Cimorelli

Pairings: Tobio Kageyama x fem! reader

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: When the king's queen was out of his grasp before he can realize

Warning/Genre: angst, toxic friendship, anxiety attack

Symbols: Italics=flashbacks

A/N: um- im very much hurt

Kageyama pants as he runs, pushing his limit with his eyes scanning the street ahead of him. His chest heavily coming up and down with sweat dripping down his skin. Mind empty but theres a certain feeling in his chest that was urging him to come back to a certain period in his life or a certain someone.

As he passes by a certain store, he suddenly stops. The feeling of his legs as if it they were holding him back, restraining his every move along with a voice lingering in his head like a broken record.

"She wasn't there."

Like a rock thrown to glass, his heart shatters, the sharpness of it scattering around his body making him weak to his knees as he stares at the shop that brought back memories he should've cherished. Maybe he should've gone with you when you asked him, maybe he should've took interest in your stories that had you smiling for days.

Maybe he should've chosen to remember.

"Tobio! Please don't push me away." Y/N begs, as Tobio disregards your words as he locks the door, slamming it in front of you. It was right after the match of Kitagawa, where his teammates claimed him the King, leaving him stranded.

"Please.. I'm here. I'll stay with you, I promise." Y/N says, head leaned on the door as she desperately tries to talk to the boy who've built such high walls a person like her can never reach. Kageyama can hear her pleas through the door but only one scene was repeating in his head-the moment the ball dropped, not even a soul was willing to save it for him.

"Kageyama.." she whispers sliding down with tears in her innocent eyes, scared for the condition of the boy, even more scared of what was bound to happen to their closeness.

The door creaks open slightly, and she was off her feet wiping away her tears as she turns around to see the broken boy clutching his shirt. He collapses into her arms and she gladly takes him, both sat on the ground with her hands running through his dark locks. Tears in each of their eyes, Y/N holding onto him while he questions himself. All the words that slipped through her mouth was nothing but sweet whispers and promises, reassuring him that he was no king.

Just a prince surrounded in a kingdom he didn't deserve.

-

"T-thank you for yesterday. You're the only one I can..count on." He says through the phone and you immediately smile at his words, surprised he believed in your promise. You let your hand rest on top of your heart, gripping on your shirt feeling that your heart was too big to fit into your body with how your emotions were overwhelming you just because of one boy. You wonder how long it'll take for you to break under him, under the kings command.

"It's nothing, Tobio. I'll be here whenever you need me."

-

"Kageyama! Good morning!" You say as you gladly bring him his usual choice of milk. He nods to you as a sign of thank you, and you smile at him. You walk with him silently, admiring the pleasant air between you two. It was a coincidence you two entered the same school, or was it really just your instinct and you chose it to protect the boy?

"I heard about this new store. Do you wanna come with me? I've seen photos of it everywhere!" She rambles on yet it fell on deaf ears as Kageyama was only delighted about being back on the gym, able to play his passion. When he turned to her, even if she was talking, his slightest care couldn't be given to her. He'd only nod every once in a while to make it seem like he'd understood.

If your heart knew that he didn't care, maybe then you would've realized.

-

We're in the same town

But you're nowhere to be found

"She hasn't been around for days. Do you think she'll make it to our game?" Hinata asks as Tanaka hands him another ball. Tanaka sighs as he looks over to the empty bench. It was funny how they were all concerned yet one boy couldn't care less. The second year looks over to Kageyama who spiked the ball perfectly, seeing him cheer at his success.

"Worry less about Y/N, she probably has her own problems. We all know that she could never miss our game, especially when Kageyama is playing." Daichi says, looking over to the younger boy. Daichi can feel how cold the atmosphere was with just a glance. He tries not to interfere with whatever happened between you two but after the match no one saw you again. Yet he sees Kageyama, perfectly back in his mindset and not an ounce of suspense as to why you weren't present.

"Plus we missed her birthday! Can't we buy some gifts for her? She doesn't really seem okay to me." Sugawara say and Nishinoya jumps at the idea agreeing completely.

"Seems like he shouldn't be invited." Tsukishima says, pointing at their other setter. Hinata sighs beside him, before shaking his head, in denial of the tension.

"Let's just go after practice!"

-

He walks inside the record store, seeing a variety of albums and vinyls. He lets his slim fingers run over the texture of each album, wondering which drew his attention. The atmosphere of the store was enough to leave a weight on his shoulders.

It's you, isn't it?

He eyes a poster on his left, enjoying how the colors were spotlighted by the sunlight that was peeking through the window. All the soft hues, having a dark gradient at the bottom he couldn't help but feel how familiar everything was. He carefully listens to the song that was playing, concentrating on every lyric as if he was trying to find a connection.

This is her world.

He watches how everyone in the store was occupied in conversations. Conversing about their interests, debating about different eras, even singing in different aisles. He can only feel sympathy, alone in her world he didn't bother to acknowledge. He should know by now what music you like, what album you first bought, which band poster was hung on your wall, but when he tried he could only hear murmurs and whispers.

I wish I listened.

-

Do you ever miss me?

You wonder as you sat in your room, knees to your chest in the far corner, listening to the song playing in your earphones. You stood up, walking to your window and opening it, greeted by the cold air. You let you hands dangle from the window while your eyes landing on the night sky creeping a smile on your face at how comforting it was.

The moon stares down on you, feeling helpless for the girl who thought numbness was the right choice. She couldn't even mask the way her world was slowly loosing color. To her, music would always paint her skies with color. All she can do now is envision the colors but in reality they were all desaturating with every passing day. There's pretty smile set on her lips yet feels like a tug of force knowing it was hard to act civil when her heart lost the battle.

-

"This place is so cool!" Hinata exclaims, eyes sparkling at the sight of the vivid posters and overall aesthetic and aura of the store. Nishinoya joins him on the excitement. Daichi turn to Kageyama who looked like a lost puppy, eyes wandering everywhere. Sugawara taps Daichis shoulder quite cutely holding up a vinyl in his hands.

"This looks like something she'd like!" He says with a smile and Nishinoya joins the conversation, holding out his own album waving it in the air claiming it was more her type. Asahi laughs at the two while he continues to view the albums that were in front of him.

Kageyama glances at his seniors along with the second years. He sees the genuine care they have for her but why is that he feels empty? Like he was numb to any feeling. He did miss her birthday, not even bothering to greet her, focusing on doing better for the next matches.

Hinata notices the dismay from the boy but his lips form a thin line, knowing exactly why Kageyamas clueless. He wonders about the feeling of neglecting a person that's been by your side for years. Kageyama seemed like he was a pro for such things. He always took notice of how Y/N would look whenever he's decline her offers, the way she walks to class disheartened but when she sees the setter, she instantly lights up at the sight.

Seeing her cry that day was enough for him to keep a distance.

How can he even comfort her? The moment she turned her back to Kageyama, she had a hopeless smile on her lips, tears continuously rolling down her puffy cheeks. He could see the way she collapsed that way. How the queen finally let go of her duties from the king.

-

Kageyama laid on his bed with earphones in, hands to his chest focused on the melodies. It was ironic how he wanted to badly catch up on what he's lost. He was badly trying to find the trail back to you but he was unfortunate. It seemed like he was the one that changed everyone's destination.

The moment she stepped in the gym, so bewildered at the different personalities they had. Hinata was the first one to approach her, asking her questions about their "friendship." The following months went by and Hinata found comfort in her and so did the rest of the team, favoring her for her endless support, always hearing her cheers at each game. After every match, she'd always encourage the others, being the brightest sun to cast upon the team who was discouraged.

Yet he found this unnecessary?

He bites his lip at his old thought. He hated himself for thinking how useless of a habit that was for you. He believed that Daichi was enough to lift up the spirits of his teammates so the team really didn't need you. It's opposite for the others though. They truly appreciated each of your compliments, each pat on the shoulder or head. Even if you wanted to do the same for him, he'd always walk away before you could even reach him. Hinata and Yamaguchi would always try to make you forget how harsh the boy was.

He lets his eyes close for a while. For a second, he was at peace but then words started resurfacing.

"How could you just walk away?"

He tries to ignore the tone of her voice, trying to drown it out by increasing the volume, but his heart was panicking at the memory. Even if he tightly shuts his eyes, all he can imagine was the sight of the last time he saw her. He wanted to sit up, to avoid the anxiousness that was crawling under his skin, but his back remained on the bed, struggling to escape the encounter.

"Is it that easy to forget me?"

Y/N.

(TW! Anxiety attack. Do not proceed if this makes you uncomfortable)

He calls out to her like a whisper, clutching his pillow as he stares wide eyed at the ceiling. He feels the room swirl around him, the walls caving on him as every insult and memory came to him. He sits up and desperately tries to walk but he collapses on the floor, hands quickly reaching the hem of his shirt bringing it over his shoulders. Panting incredibly with his sweat covering his forehead as he tried to calm himself down but each second he was reminded of a moment in his life he could never change.

"Hey..Kageyama it's okay." Y/N tries to reach for his shoulder but he harshly grabs a hold of her hand, gripping it tightly in his as he stares her down with his dark eyes, locking on her terrified ones.

"We fucking lost! To Aoba! To Oikawa! How can you act like this when we lost?!" Kageyama shouts at her and she winces at the volume but she lets her other hand rest on top of his, trying to make sure her eye contact reminded him that everything was going to be okay.

"Tobio- Karasuno will come back and win again.. You have to trust that everything isn't set in stone. Failure-"

"FAILURE? I don't have any fucking time for more failures Y/N! You simply don't know what that feels cause all you've been doing is tagging along and being useless." He spat and you felt your smile crumble at his words. He removes your hands from his as he frustratedly runs his hands to his hair, feeling as if pins went through his hands, blaming it for their loss.

"Kageyama..you don't m-mean that. Stop. I know you're angry-"

"I'm disappointed Y/N for fucks sake! I could've done better! We could've won if I didn't slip up. Stop acting like you can fucking solve everything and leave!" She takes a step forward to him as he extends out a hand, blocking her from moving any further. The gesture completely draining the life out of her, her heart growing more and more in her chest, the admiration for the boy trying to erase his negativity.

"K-kageyama-"

"Fuck Y/N! Can't I have a day without you talking to me? Or even being around me? I don't need you. The team doesn't need you. No one else does.. so please just leave already."

He stares at her for a while before rushing off, annoyance and pride feeding his heart and mind. She sees him getting more and more distant as she lets her last smile fall on her lips. All the love and joy was erased from her heart, feeling how shallow and dark the atmosphere was inside it. It began to feel like every heartbeat was slowing down as her tears painted her a trail as she walked. The tears continuously flooded her cheeks as every function of her body was weakening with every action.

She feels the tension that there was in the bus, while she was stuck in the corner, silent.

Silent but the Kings poison consumed her.

Happy birthday to me then. She thinks bitterly.

She looks at the scenery beside her, appealing dull. She allows her heart to cry at the sharp pieces that went through it, as if it was like a balloon being popped or like the light from a fire was blown out.

There was a certain part of her that died that day. She wonders if it was her entirely, or just her ability to feel anything apart from the harsh reality. It was the mere feeling of hearing him say the exact opposite of the words you were badly used to. As the person who he counted on even back at Kitagawa, you should've believed it. But every word he threw were all words that should've never been brought to light. You were back to zero to say the least, back at the darkest corner of your mind. Touching in with your negative emotions drowning you with every replay of of his words.

Then she glances at him.

She lets her eyes linger on him for the last time before she sighs, hands forming a ball, nails digging through her skin.

I don't know you anymore.

Kageyama opens his eyes slowly, hands reaching for his phone as he dials a forgotten number. He was panting furiously, desperate to hear the sound of your voice he was late to miss. He dreaded the silence the surrounded him, he wished the silence would be killed by your voice, assuring him that all was forgiven and you were ready to come back to him so he can apologize for everything he's done.

On the other end of the line, you sighed sadly. You the see way your phone lit up the dark room, seeing a name you've yet to see in months. You carefully place the phone in your hands, trying to find the feeling in your chest when he was around. The feeling of excitement to see or hear him has vanished yet you wished that you had the ability to feel for him again.

Love has faded, no evidence, not even a trace.

So you put the phone down, done waiting to be found.

Kageyama hears the way the sound of the phone stopped, seeing his wallpaper flash in front of him. He lets the tears fall from his eyes as he calls out to you one more time, even if you broke your promise, still holding on to it but there wasn't a chance for him anymore.

And the queen left the kingdom, leaving the king to rule by himself.

[buckyownsmylife]

Every Part of me - Tom Holland smut

The one where you and Tom are ex-lovers

Warnings: smut, kinda dubcon? but maybe not really (Tom just steps in and makes sexual decisions without discussing previously with the reader, but she accepts it wholeheartedly), slight degradation (Tom calls the reader cockslut and greedy little whore and dumb little baby, but I think that’s it), face fucking that causes slight asphyxiation, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking and the likes

A/N: Day 2 of Kinktober! Today’s prompts were face fucking and breeding kink with Tom Holland. Hope you guys like it! And thanks for everyone who has sent me messages about my accident, I’m actually feeling a lot better, although still in huge pain. 

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I knew he’d been watching ever since I stepped foot in the set. To be fair, I couldn’t say I wouldn’t do the same. It hadn’t been much over a month since we decided to call it quits, and despite knowing it was for the best, it didn’t change the fact that my body still felt perfectly tuned to him and his gaze, the way he’d lick his lips after his eyes caught mine. So I tried not to look, knowing it wouldn’t make much of a difference in the end.

At least my job was quick and easy and despite knowing he’d be around, we weren’t expected to be in a scene together. Still, two weeks felt fourteen days too long and the day before I was expected to leave, the exhaustion of being on the edge all the time had caught up with me. I was scared, constantly tense about the possibility that I’d find myself standing too close to him and one whiff of his cologne would make me lose all the control I was struggling to hold onto.

I couldn’t even predict what would happen, I just know it wouldn’t be good. Not for our intentions to stay away from each other. So that’s why when Anthony and Robert asked if I wanted to go out for drinks, to celebrate my last night on set, I politely refused, explaining how utterly drained of all energy I felt. Thankfully, they conceded, leaving me alone to sleep this last night before I could go back to the comfort of my own house. I guess the fact that they knew about our break up helped a bit. Robert had looked at me with kind eyes that let me know he was understanding of my situation.

Nonetheless, as soon as I got into my room, I grabbed a bottle of wine and unscrewed it, determined to finish it tonight. Perhaps the buzz would help me sleep, but what I needed the most, however, was a distraction, and since a night out with friends wasn’t possible, I decided to give myself a night of relaxation. 

As I poured myself my first glass, I stripped down to nothing, leaving my clothes on the floor as I opted to put on one of the silk robes the hotel offered. Nothing says solo party like semi-nudity. Besides, I was planning on jumping in the tub any minute now.

My idea, however, was cut short by a strong knock on my bedroom’s door.

Raising an eyebrow, I approached the door cautiously. I wasn’t expecting anyone and I hadn’t even called for a meal yet. Another knock resonated and I sighed, quickening my step to open the door to the stranger.

“Tom.” The word came out more as a whisper than anything else. He, on the other hand,  didn’t say a word. Instead, his eyes gazed hauntingly into mine with an intensity I hadn’t ever seen before. “What are you doing here?” I asked when I felt enough courage to break the silence, but my voice came out weak and hesitant. I hated myself for that. I wanted to sound strong, enthusiastic, even. Not like someone who missed the weight of his body over mine.

The same thought must have been in his head because at last, his eyes broke our connection to travel the extent of my body. Self-conscious, I tried to better adjust the robe around me, hoping to hide more of my skin from his view.

It didn’t take a genius to see that he didn’t like that. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

Seeing Y/N wearing only a robe, not even a foot away from me, after only dealing with memories of her scent, was too much and yet everything I needed at that moment. I could smell her now. That vanilla body wash she always took with her wherever she’d go, lilies and wine. I guess she’d been drinking.

Maybe that’s why her lips were so red.

I wanted to lick it off of her, kiss her until she lost all the air in her lungs, bite her luscious lips until they were red for a completely different reason.

I subconsciously licked mine, eyes still fixated on her mouth before looking down to admire the skin that was available for me to look at.

She fixed her robe, trying to hide more from me.

I didn’t like that.

Before I could even realize what I was doing, I was pushing her inside the room, slamming the door behind us. To every step I gave in her direction, she gave one to distance her body from mine, but I was having none of it. I quickened my movements until I was able to wrap an arm around her lower back and pull her to me, my lips immediately finding hers.

It was like heaven and hell all at once. God, I knew I’d missed her taste, but having it in my lips again, being able to explore the inside of her mouth with my tongue brought me such a powerful exhilaration that I felt like my knees would buckle at any second. 

Still, I couldn’t separate myself from her. Not even when she tried to push me away, to end our kiss - no doubt struggling with the memories of that terrible night when we decided to call it quits. But I was done going through the same reel again and again. I didn’t want to remember her anymore. I wanted her right here, with me.

So I chased her away, making sure our lips stayed connected until she had nowhere to run anymore. Pressed up against the wall, I had all the control I’d been wanting over her now. So I deepened our kiss, burying one of my hands on her hair so I could force her head back to accept my eager tongue, and when I was finally able to do so, my other hand pulled on the string of her robe until it fell open and I had all of her body exposed to me. 

“Tom…” She managed to gasp as she struggled against my hold on her, but I was having none of it. 

“Shut up,” I warned her, already prying her lower lips open with my index and ring finger as I inserted my middle one on her weeping hole. “Fuck.” The chuckle that I gave held no humor, only a mocking tone that I hardly recognized as mine. “For someone who’s so resistant to my touch you sure are wet, sweetheart.”

Perhaps I was still angry at her. Maybe that’s why I felt this overwhelming need to be mean, to make sure that she did just what I wanted. Perhaps then she’d know how I’d felt ever since that night. 

She stopped struggling then, accepting my invasion of her space as I took her mouth on mine again, pressing her against the wall as I fucked her with a single finger, before adding another and another. 

I could feel her struggling to accept me, the thickness of the three digits stretching her open and I had to laugh. “I can see you haven’t been properly fucked since I was last inside this little pussy, huh?” I teased, and she only whined in response, moving her hips to thrust back against my hand. “Gotta prepare you, love…” Kissing her, I made sure to leave a few bruises on her neck when I left her lips, my fingers never stopping their movements inside of her. “Gotta make sure you’ll be able to accept my cock in here again.”

Maybe it was what I said, maybe it was the fact that I finally relented and started to rub on her clit with my thumb, but I had her cumming around me in seconds, making me grin darkly as I continued to fuck her through her orgasm.

“Such a dumb little baby, thinking you could leave me. Saying all of those things and leaving me to pick up the pieces of my heart. Well, let’s see how you speak now, with my cock in your mouth.”

I pushed her on her knees and immediately she was reaching out for my jeans, but I slapped her hands away. “You get what I give you, nothing more. Now sit back and wait for my cock like a good girl.”

The sight of her with her bottom lip sticking out, those cute puppy eyes appearing from under her eyelashes made my heart grow twice its size. How did I think I could live without her? How did she so easily give up on me, leaving me behind after one single fight?

The ambers of anger rose high again, and I grabbed her hair in my fist, pulling her to meet my erect member. “Suck it up, little whore.” I allowed her to do as she pleased for a little while, albeit keeping my grip on her hair, relishing in the feeling of her talented tongue and warm mouth. But the feeling of despair was still threatening to cut me open, and before long I pulled her away by her hair. 

“Open your mouth,” I barked. “Leave it open. I’m gonna fuck your face.” She didn’t fight as I pulled her on my dick until her lips were touching my navel, my cock hitting the back of her throat.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It took every bit of concentration I had to control my urge to gag around his cock, but I knew by the way he looked down at me that it was a battle I was destined to fail. He wanted me to hurt. He needed to see the tears in my eyes as he constricted my need for air, and I could allow him this release.

Despite our break-up, I still trusted him with my life.

So I relaxed against him, allowing him to do as he wished as he guided my movements through his grip in my hair, and I found some new appreciation by the way I was a sputtering, whiny mess, tears and spit running on my face just like he wished to see.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure. “Take it. Take this fucking cock like the greedy little whore you are for me.” I couldn’t even find it in myself to care about the degrading nature of his comments, not when they were making me so wet I could feel it dripping down my thighs.

We’d never fucked like this before, but god, were we missing out. I was so aroused by our activities that I couldn’t wait anymore, I needed another release soon. So one of my hands ended up between my legs, while the other rested on one of his thighs, just for support.

At first, he was so wrapped up in the pleasure I was giving him that he didn’t even notice, but when I moaned around his cock after a particular tug in my hair that made my finger slip inside of myself, he opened his eyes to look down at me, finding me halfway through an orgasm already.

“You’re such a cockslut, aren’t you? Already gave you an orgasm, but the second my cock is in your mouth, you need another one.” I obviously couldn’t answer, but he didn’t really want a response, from the way he pulled his dick from between my lips with a pop before pulling me up by my hair and dragging me to bed.

“You’re not gonna cum if it’s not me giving you the pleasure, sweetheart.” It was the first time in the night he called me by one of the pet names he used when we were still dating, and even if the tone was still slightly colder and bossier than I was used to, I felt myself melting at the memories that it brought me, leaving me putty in his hands.

He was then free to easily manipulate my body how he saw fit, which was on my hands and knees, my head pushed down against the hotel’s mattress. “Fuck, I missed this ass,” he commented just before slapping me hard, making me yelp. The sound must have entertained him because he did it again and again until I was shaking from the ardor and dripping down on the bed from arousal.

And then he pushed into me, releasing one of those breathless little moans that I loved to hear and that I’d missed so much, and it felt like I’d blacked out for a second. Having him inside of me was everything I had been dreaming of for the last couple of weeks, and now that I was struggling to accept his thickness, it felt like the only thing in my mind was Tom, how Tom’s hands felt as he rubbed them all over my back before wrapping my hair around them again, the feeling of his thighs hitting the back of mine, the sound of his balls slapping my clit with each powerful thrust he gave. 

It was enough to have screaming out his name with zero regards for the other people on this hotel floor. “Fuck yes, baby, let them know who’s fucking you this good.” There was no way anyone staying close to us didn’t know, and I could only pray none of our co-stars would be around to tease us about it.

Suddenly, just when I was about to reach that peak again, he pulled out, easily manhandling me onto my bed as he held my ankles spread out for me. I moaned out loud when I felt him spit on my pussy before he pushed into me again, immediately getting back into the same rhythm as before.

“I want to see your face when you cum again,” he whispered hotly in my ear, making me whimper as I pulled him closer to me, my sensitive nipples rubbing against his chest. It didn’t take me long to get back to the same state as before, and the second he sucked on my earlobe, I came all around him, hearing him curse against my ear.

When I opened my eyes after calming down again, I realized he’d been waiting for me, predatory gaze glued on mine as he found a way to pound me even harder against the mattress, so roughly bumping against my uterus that it almost hurt.

“I’m gonna cum,” he suddenly announced, still looking deep into my eyes, and all of a sudden, I was shaken awake from my reverie by the realization that we’d been fucking raw this entire time. But before I could even come up with something to say about it, he beat me to it, adding, “I’m gonna cum inside of you. I’ll fuck a baby into you. This way you won’t be able to walk out on me ever again.”

Just as he oh-so-casually mentioned his plans for our future, I felt him spill into me for the first time, the warm feeling eliciting another small orgasm that left me trembling in his hands as he continued to softly thrust into me, like he didn’t want to leave and let any of his cum escape my pussy.

“I mean it,” he randomly interrupted my attempt to gather my breath, still panting himself, still very much nested inside of me. When I raised an eyebrow in question, he simply shook his head before leaning down to drop his body weight over mine, just like I’d been dreaming about. “I want you forever. I’m not letting you go again. Baby or no baby.”

Snorting, I hugged him to me, relishing on the smell of his cologne as I hid my face in the crook of his neck. “We still have a lot to talk about, Tom… but it’s safe to say that I feel the same way.”

[outofsstyles]

CITY OF LOVE

{part 1 }

a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE!! This is the second and final part of my friends to lovers fic featuring italy!Harry!! If you haven’t read the first part (When In Rome) make sure to click on the link above before coming back to this one  :)) As usual, feedback is always welcome,  hope everyone enjoys this one!

tag list: @rainsoncornelias​ @mellamolayla​ @sushiabby​

Word count: 13.1k (got a bit carried away, oops?)

Pairing: best friend!Harry + reader

Rating: M

You visit the notorious City Of Love and Harry’s infatuated.

“We’re almost there,” Harry says, interrupting your daydreams as you stare out the window of the moving train.

You give him a small smile, checking the time on your wrist clock before going back to your previous position.

He loves catching you in moments like this. When you’re so focused on your own thoughts you become unaware of the world around you. It’s one of those moments where you look the prettiest, he thinks — not that you ever look anything below gorgeous to him. But there’s something about it, when you’re just so lost inside your head, not even trying to look beautiful, something about these moments makes his heart skip a beat. He wishes he could open up your head and read your mind like it was his favorite book. Learn your thoughts and your feelings. He wishes it so badly.

Instead, he takes the opportunity to admire your figure without the risk of getting caught staring — knowing you’d tease him to no end if you did. He takes notice of all the details in you he’s memorized over and over through the years you’ve known each other, but somehow never got tired of it. He doesn’t want to seem like a creep. And it’s not as if he does it on purpose either. He tries to concentrate on the book open in front of him, but only manages to skip through a few words before finding himself glancing up at you again.

It’s unfair to him how beautiful you look this early in the morning. The sunlight shining through the window next to you hitting your face so perfectly it makes his heart jump on his chest. Your hair’s cascading down your shoulders in a way that not even the most skilled painter could replicate in one of his masterpieces.  The dress you chose for the day hugs your body loosely enough so you have space to breathe underneath but still tight enough that makes him twitch on his trousers every time his eyes wander to your chest.

The scene seems as it should belong on the walls of an art museum. You’re glowing.

He makes a subtle move to reach for his bag next to him, keeping his eyes on you to make sure you don’t notice whilst he retrieves his small camera.

Pressing the camera against his face, he quickly pushes the button, capturing the sight in front of him. The ‘click’ sound of the photo being taken catches your attention, making you throw him a pointed look, lips parting with a small gasp.

“Harry!” You call out when you see him moving the camera from his face. “A warning wouldn’t hurt!”

“And what’s the fun in that?” He grins down at the picture shown on the small screen. “Don’t get to capture your natural beauty.”

He glances up at you, catching a blush creeping on your cheeks as you try to hold back a smile. “Does that mean I’m not pretty when I pose?”

“Course not,” he quickly denies, shaking his head. “Didn’t mean it like that, of course you’re always beautiful it’s just-”

“Harry,” you giggle as he nervously stumbles on his words. “I was just teasing.”

He shakes his head at you, “Just like the spontaneous moments s’all.”

“I know,” you smile fondly at him.

Now he feels like he’s the one blushing. Not even because of anything that’s being said but just by the way you’re smiling at him. It fills his stomach with the most beautiful butterflies. He glances down again so you don’t notice it, pretending he’s doing something on the camera, digits fidgeting with the buttons, mindlessly going through the menu that pops up. He peeks his eyes back up subtly, only to find you looking back out the window, but this time with the loveliest smile on your face.

It doesn’t take much longer until the train slowly comes to a stop. A vocal announcement coming from the tiny speaker above your heads lets you know it’s your stop, urging the passengers to step carefully out of the cabins. You quickly gather your belongings, joining the small crowd that’s drifting out to the platform.

The change in the atmosphere is abrupt when you step out. It almost feels as if you hit a wall of heat, the air around you is thick — making you reach for your water bottle hanging on the side of your backpack.

“Benvenuta a Verona!” Harry’s voice chirps from behind you, his hand adjusting his sunglasses on his face as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, hugging you close as you begin to follow the group moving towards the exit of the station. You arch your brows at him in a wordless question while you sip from the bottle in your hands. It doesn’t take more than that for him to understand your request, translating his previous words. “Welcome to Verona, darling.”

It makes an elated sigh to escape from your lips, “Fair Verona,” you say. “The city of love.”

“The city of love,” Harry repeats, letting his arm fall back to the side of his body once you turn to place your bottle back where you retrieved it from. “Excited?”

“Very,” you squeal, grabbing his arm and giving it a squeeze. “Only know this city through the words of our good old friend, William.”

He chuckles, “please stop referring to Shakespeare by his first name.”

“You know I won’t.” You joke, biting back a smile as you look up at him.

The shimmering sunlight hits the two of you as you walk out of the station, the sky painted a beautiful tone of blue. There’s a slight breeze hitting the spot on top of the entrance stairs, causing your dress to dance around your thighs as you step down to the sidewalk. You giggle as you bring your hands down, trying to keep the skirt from rolling up and revealing much more than you’d intended when you chose the outfit for the day. A few children run down the steps to catch the bubbles a smiley old lady blows from what seems to be a sweets stand, the sound of their laughter filling the surrounding space.

It seems like the perfect beginning for what Harry intends to be the perfect day. It nearly makes him sigh in relief when you glance at him with a bright smile adorning your face. If there’s anything he wants to get it right for you during your stay, it’s Verona.

He first visited the city when his previous roommate, Peter (a tall lanky Canadian boy that was almost as bad with Italian as Harry at first — and always managed to bring a laugh out of him) got offered a job at a small atelier located in the center of the city. Harry helped him with the moving part and in the midst of putting together wooden shelves and relocating couches, he found some time to wander around the streets nearby. It didn’t take much for him to fall in love with every corner, beguiled by every slight detail he noticed.

And it didn’t help how much of it reminded him of you, only consolidating how captivated he felt about it.

**

“This camera is so confusing,” you say once Harry approaches you.

You’re frowning down at the gadget in your hands, fingers pressing one of the multiple buttons next to the display screen, opening a menu screen that only reinforces your puzzled expression. It makes him smile; you look so fucking cute.

Harry makes a move to sit down next to you on the step next to the sidewalk, plopping in his mouth a piece of pineapple from the fruit bowl he had just purchased. He reaches for the camera in your hands, quickly pressing a few buttons so that the screen is back to displaying the pictures instead of the menu you had just opened. You mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as you shield your vision from the sun with your hand, squinting your eyes in a try to take a look at the screen under the bright sunlight.

“Why didn’t you bring your Polaroid?” You question, analyzing the photo shown on the small screen. It’s one he took of you when you walked into a no exit street because you loved the look of the flowers hanging from the balconies on the old buildings all the way down to the floor. You’re laughing at some dumb joke he had made, your eyes scrunched and your head thrown back in a big smile — it was probably his favorite picture he took of you. Your voice brings him back from his thoughts when he doesn’t answer right away. “Just would’ve been so much easier to use.”

“It’s broken,” he announces, focusing back on the fruits in front of him as he grabs a bite of a half-cut grape.

“What?” You gaze up at him in shock. “How?”

“Matteo,” he says, glancing up at you only to find your arched eyebrow. “My flatmate.”

You roll your eyes slightly, “I know who he is, Harry.” You say, “did he break it?”

“Sort of,” he starts, “we were drunk one night, and he wanted to take like some pictures on the staircase,” you frown at him, “don’t ask,” he chuckles, “long story short, he let the Polaroid fall down the steps, and she was never the same after that.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle. “Rest in peace, poor camera.”

“He bought me this one though, so it’s all good.” Harry motions to the device in your hands. “Was the cheapest nicest camera he could find, but it does the job just fine.”

You smile at him, moving your eyes back down to the small screen as you continue to go through the photos. Harry takes in the sight from where you two sit in comfortable silence, the loud mixture of different chatter surrounding the space. A crowd of people wanders around the small fair that covers the center of the open plaza. Some of them are clearly tourists with sunburnt skin and selfie sticks, he chuckles at a specific family wearing bright matching outfits, the two kids eating their small scoops of ice cream, but seeming to get it more on their own faces and clothes than inside their mouths. He can also pick out some that most likely are locals from around the area, ones that come with their reusable bags to pick out the fresh vegetables offered in the tents.

Harry picks up a piece of the fruit on the bowl with the plastic fork, holding it up near your mouth as an offer.

You peek at the food quickly, not really registering before wrapping your lips around it. “What is it?” Your voice is muffled as you chew.

“Watermelon,” Harry chuckles, “Do you not know how watermelon tastes?”

“Shut up.” He feels your elbow pushing him playfully as you let out a short laugh. “Just took me a second,” you look down at the bowl on his lap before meeting his again with a pout on your lips. “Can I have another one?”

And there’s no fucking way he could ever refuse. “Sure.”

He picks up another piece of watermelon, purposefully choosing the biggest one on the bowl, raising it up to offer you again. You lean towards the fork, your tongue poking out just a bit as you bite into the fruit presented to you. This would be fine, just a simple action, if you didn’t make sure to stare into his eyes while you do it.

The intention behind the gesture is unknown to him, but it doesn’t stop his breath from catching on his throat. He can feel his blood rush down his body, his cock plumping just slightly as he peeks down to watch your tongue poking out to lick a bit of the juice that’s on your lips, you chuckle slightly. The scene seems to happen almost in slow motion to him, and he can’t help but start feeling flustered, breaking his gaze away from you quickly. Of course, you couldn’t have done it on purpose, and he wonders if it was all a speck of his love deprived imagination once he peeks up to find you fiddling with your backpack sitting by your feet.

A blush in creeping on his cheeks as he looks down again, resting the fork back inside the bowl to reach for his sunglasses that rest on top of his head - with the purpose of holding back his curls.

“God, why did I pack so much stuff?” You ask yourself, completely unaware of his pounding heart, closing the backpack with a small laugh. “we’re only staying for a night and I brought like, three shirts.”

“Is it too heavy? I can carry it for you,” he offers, mentally cussing himself out for not doing it sooner.

“It’s fine, H, I can manage it.” You assure.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” he insists. “Should’ve asked Peter to leave a copy of his key under the doormat or summat, so you wouldn’t have to carry your stuff around all day.”

“Harry,” you giggle as he stops rambling. “It’s fine, not heavy at all.”

You reach to pick another piece of fruit from his almost empty bowl - this time a squared-cut apple.

“So, where are we headed next, boss?” You inquire, leaning your body against his.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, taking a second to recompose himself. “You’ll see.”

You buff out an annoyed breath, “thought we agreed to stop with the surprises.”

“This is a special one, though,”  he smirks. “You’ll like it, don’t worry.”

**

Just as he predicted he hears a gasp leave your lips as you turn around the tunnel, your face lighting up in excitement as you recognize the place standing in front of you.

Juliet’s house.

The building is simple, nothing too out of the ordinary when compared to other houses around the city. Except it’s the meaning behind the exposed brick walls and the notorious balcony poking out from the second floor that makes it so memorable. In the courtyard in front of the entrance, there’s a small group gathered up, some lining up in front of the house to go into the museum, and some crowded around the statue of Juliet positioned across from the front door. It’s not nearly as packed as it can usually get, though, and for that Harry lets out a relieved sigh, not wanting the mass amount of bodies crushed together in the limited space to spoil your experience.

This was the place Harry was most excited for you to visit, imagining how it would be to watch your glistening eyes from the moment you’d announced you had bought the tickets to visit him.

He knows how much you loved Romeo and Juliet, even being probably one of the most overused love stories ever written, you still gushed about it since the moment you first read it way back when you were in high school. It was the story that sparked in you the love for literature. The one you used in your final thesis - which even though Harry couldn’t really understand much of, he still read all the way through.

“This is amazing,” you breathe out, your eyes scanning every inch of the place around you — so caught up at the moment, you don’t even realize Harry’s watching you.

“Is it like how you imagined it?” He asks, biting into his cheek to stop him from smiling too hard when you look up with a slight grin.

“Well, I’ve seen it before, you know,” you say, gazing around the graffiti-filled walls. Harry raises his brows at you in a silent question,  “I’ve watched Letters For Juliet.”

“Oh,” he follows you as you amble around. “Do they show this house in it?”

You gasp, turning to look at him with a dramatic shock in your face. “You’re telling me, Harry Styles, the king of romcoms, has never seen Letters For Juliet?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing, chuckling softly, “unfortunately not.” He rests his hand over his heart, looking down, feigning shame. “Guess I have lost my crown.”

A giggle erupts from your lips, he looks up to watch you shake your head at him. “It’s just like I thought it would be, though,” you say, voice softer. “It’s beautiful.”

“You have to get your picture on Juliet’s statue,” he motions in the direction of the monument as you get closer to it, reaching for his bag to retrieve his camera. “Go grab her boob.”

“Don’t say it like that!” You snort, poking him playfully as you move to stand next to the motionless figure.

“But that’s the ritual!” He giggles, pointing the camera at you when you position your hand over her bust -- the bronze on the region already worn out from the numerous people that touch it every day.

You wait for the camera’s click, indicating the picture had been taken before jumping down from the step. “You rub her right breast to have luck in love, it’s a tradition,” you tell him, walking around the statue to glance at the wall, facing away from him. “You say it like it’s something… Cheeky.”

“So it isn’t cheeky?” You throw him a pointed look, causing him to chuckle as he raises his arms in defense. “It’s just an odd tradition, that’s all,” he glances down at the small camera screen to check the photo that was taken. It takes a moment of him smiling at it to himself before he realizes you didn’t say anything in response to his tease.

The silence makes him look up, searching around for you, quickly finding you standing not too far by the tunnel you had come from, your eyes focused on the ancient wall. He approaches you, earning a quick glance as you sense his presence getting closer. His eyes wander to the surface you’re focusing on. Every inch of it is covered with notes, some written in paper and glued to the surface, the edges of it marked with time stains, some written directly on the bricks. But all of them had the same feeling draped all over their words: love. It being the uncertainty of finding their other half, or the heartbreak of being separated from them. Most of them were as simple as just two initials, meant to mark the passion of a couple that had been in this exact same spot he stands on somewhere in time. A few of them, however, - mostly the ones written on paper - go more in dept in all kinds of tales of love.

Harry feels as if he could waste days just reading them all, and for your similar fascination, he assumes you could, as well.

“Look at all of those, H,” you gesture at the notes covering every inch of the stone walls. “Each one of them tells a different love story, isn’t it crazy?”

“It is,” he answers, his eyes focusing on a particular pink note in front of him. The writing is a bit smudged from time but he can still understand the words of a woman professing her love for her partner, their names written inside of a heart at the bottom of the paper. He finds himself wondering more about their story beyond the words written. “Do you think some of these couples are not together anymore?”

“Absolutely,” you say without skipping a beat, causing Harry’s eyes to peak over to you. You glance up at him, a small smile taking over your lips. “But you know what’s nice?”

“What?”

“Even if they’re not together anymore,” you begin, gazing back at the wall. “A part of their love will always stay here. Intact.”

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air as he gazes back at the note he was looking at. “That’s true.”

There’s a silence between you two, both quietly admiring all the different stories told in the few-worded messages splattered in front of you. It seems like something he could get lost for hours, just imagining how they all played out. Thinking about the moment that brought all of them to this place.

“Don’t waste your love on somebody who doesn’t value it,” you break the silence, reading the words written a bit lower in dirty white paint — the writing is big, taking over some of the notes. You let out a quiet sigh, voice so low he almost misses it, “William Shakespeare.”

Harry gazes down at you, trying to find some sort of indication on your intentions behind reading those words out loud but only being met with the side of your face, your eyes never leaving the words written in front of you.

“Maybe I should’ve listened to him, huh?” you let out a dry laugh as an attempt to mask the meaning of your words with humor, but your voice gives out just a bit, unveiling the hurt behind it.

The words you say hit Harry like a truck, his heart twisting as if someone had just ripped it out of his chest. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, knitting his brows together as he calls out your name just above a whisper. His voice is soft and tender, and he holds back the heaviness in his heart because this isn’t about him, you’re the one that needs to be comforted.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be a downer,” you chuckle again, looking down at your shoes and facing away from Harry, your hands quickly moving up to rub your eyes. He calls you again, this time making a move to reach for your shoulder, but you turn around suddenly, giving him your best smile in an attempt to distract him from your watery eyes. “I’m fine, H, really. It’s just the feeling of this place making me a bit emotional,” it’s bullshit, you know it, he knows it. “How about we go back to that ice cream place we saw on our way over?”

“Do you not want to go inside the museum?” He inquires, the worry still visible in his features.

“It’s fine, I’ve read it’s mostly a cash grab, anyway,” you let out a dry laugh. You’re trying to make him smile, he can tell. “So, what do you say? Gelato?”

He wants to pry, wants to question you. But he swallows back his words, something he’s been perfecting with you over the years. Holding back his feelings, pretending they’re not there. It suffocates him sometimes, but he knows losing you is not worth it. So he does the same as always, smiling down at you and ignoring the knives on his heart. “That sounds lovely.”

**

There’s no mention of the occurrence at Juliet’s courtyard for the rest of the day. You don’t give him any opening to even bring it up as well, immediately changing the subject as soon as you go through the tunnel again. So Harry just pushes the subject to the back of his mind, in order to enjoy your company.

Eventually, you’re both sitting at a stone bench in front of Peter’s apartment building, waiting for him to come home so you can relax from walking around all day. He had been clear on his texts to Harry as for him not to take you out for dinner, arguing he wanted to teach you his - now improved, in his words - old spaghetti recipe. It’s something that brings a smile to his face, how his friends are so welcoming to you, being eager to meet the girl he rambles about so much.

So as the twilight settles on the sky above, and just in time for when you first complain about your groaning stomach, a loud voice greets the two of you. It makes you jump in your seat, causing Harry to laugh, recognizing his friend’s voice.

Peter greets you with a tight hug, barely giving you any time to get up from the seat. “Can’t believe I’m finally meeting you!” His voice sharp next to your ear. You gaze at Harry with slightly widening eyes from over his shoulder, only to be met with an amused grin as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. Peter pulls back from you, holding into your shoulder as he bends to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Heard so much about you, it’s almost as if I know you already!”

“Good things, I hope,” you chuckle, the earring dangling from his ear catching your attention as it shimmers with the bit of sunlight still glaring.

He reaches for Harry to give him a quick hug, quickly focusing back on you. “As if this man could ever say a single bad word about you.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, watching a blush creep on his cheeks as he shakes his head. “Everyone is out to embarrass me in this country.”

“Spare me of your drama tonight, Styles,” he reaches to lock his arm around yours, guiding you inside the building. “She’s the star today.”

You look over your shoulder to Harry’s face, a grin eminent on his lips as he follows behind. The way up the staircase to the apartment is spent with Peter’s voice echoing around the flat stone walls, babbling about a story of when he used to live in Rome. More specifically, one that involved Harry having too much to drink and rambling to him for hours about you. He doesn’t get to go into much detail, though, with Harry himself interrupting him with warm cheeks and eyes glancing at the back of his friend’s head, refusing to meet yours every time you smirk down at him.

You walk into his apartment and are instantly hit with a small furry cat snuggling against your legs, making you coo as you crouch to scratch behind its ears.

“That’s Romeo,” Peter points, reaching to pull the strap of his bag over his shoulder, throwing it on the couch next to him. “I’m very creative with names, as you can tell.”

“I love it,” you say, murmuring some compliments to the tiny creature before getting up.

“I’m gonna get everything started for dinner, your room is the first door on the right down the hall, you can get settled and meet me in the kitchen for your culinary lessons.” Peter doesn’t leave any room for questions, striding towards an arched entrance you didn’t notice next to you.

Harry starts to follow you as you go to the place Peter had indicated, but as he gets close, he notices Romeo chasing you curiously, trying to reach for your untied shoelace. He crouches down much to play with the cat, not paying much notice to you as you enter the room. The animal pursues his wiggly fingers, as Harry waves them in the air, moving them away in sudden movements every time Romeo get close to catching them.

“Uhm… Harry?” You call him from inside the room, appearing at the doorframe with a frown between your brows. You look in the direction of where Peter had disappeared, lowering your voice a bit. “I think we might have a little problem.”

“What is it?” he gets up, nearing you and stopping next to the open doorway.

“There’s only one bed here,” you step away to give him a visual of the room.

“Oh,” he walks in, taking a look into the small guest room, and just as you said, he only spots a single bed tucked right under the big window. He hadn’t even thought about that detail, “That’s a problem.”

You nod at him, eyes moving back to the bed a frown trying to find a solution for the issue in question. The bed is just simply too narrow for the two of you to even share without one having to sleep on top of the other, and as much as Harry wouldn’t mind that he would never suggest it out loud. So he just follows your gaze, as if staring at it would magically bring a resolution — apart from the most obvious one.

“Is everything okay in there?” Peter’s voice echoes at the end of the hallway once he spots the two of you hovering by the door.

You part your lips gazing at Harry expectantly. “Kind of,” he begins, “Is there only one bed here?”

Peter chuckles, leaving the books in his hand on top of a shelf before making his way to where you stand. “Forgot to show you, sorry about that.” He says, walking past you as he enters the room, leaning forward, he pulls out a mattress from under the bed. “There we go, no need to break your back on my tiny couch, H.”

“Hey!” Harry drags the word out in a dramatic manner, “who said I would be the one on the couch?”

A chuckle leaves your lips, your hand patting his chest playfully, “always a gentleman.”

“I would never let a guest sleep on the couch, Styles,” Peter argues. “As far as I know she is the guest here.”

You smile brightly at his words, bringing your hand up to meet his in a high-five. Harry rolls his eyes at the scene, “I should’ve never introduced you too.”

As promised, Peter teaches you how to make his improved sauce recipe, the kitchen quickly becoming filled with your giggles as you try to follow his instructions. Harry watches you two as he makes the pasta, every so often sneaking to your counter to steal a piece of whatever you’re cutting, earning a playful scolding from you. And soon, the scent of boiling tomato and fresh herbs takes over the air, Stevie Nicks’ voice singing lowly in the background while you chat. It’s such a simple moment, but he just feels so happy he wishes he could live the rest of his life like this.

After dinner, he notices your heavy eyelids and eventual yawns signaling your sleepy state. Still, you insist on washing your dishes, even after Harry persisting on doing it for you. So you stand quietly side by side, washing the plates and humming along to Dreams, bumping occasionally on each other hips. And not long after, you’re finally changing into your nightwear and tucking yourselves in your respective beds. Harry takes the mattress on the floor, not leaving any room for you to argue with his decision.

He can almost feel the sleep taking over his body, the soft sound of his own breathing and the low humming of the small fan tucked in the corner lulling him into slumber.

“I’m sorry for today,” your voice suddenly breaks into the quiet room, making him open his eyes to see you’ve moved to the edge of your bed, looking down at him. The moonlight from outside shines through the cracks of the closed curtains behind you, allowing him to only make out your silhouette, but not quite see your face. His lips part, but before he can say anything you whisper again, “Didn’t mean to cry.”

His face softens at your words, body shifting to get closer to you. “Don’t have to apologize for that,” he reassures, “Never have to apologize for it, love.”

He can tell your smiling, even with the shadow casting on your face. “I know,” you say. “Just didn’t want to be a downer.”

“You’re not,” he says in a heartbeat, “If anything you’re the one who brightens my day.”

You breathe out a laugh, “always a charmer, aren’t you?” You bring your hand to rest under your head. “Don’t have to use that with me.”

“I’m serious,” he props himself up on his elbow.

“Thank you, H,” you reach a hand down, to which he grabs it without a thought, enlacing your fingers together.

The room falls silent again. You stare into the ceiling, Harry’s thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand as he watches you. He watches your chest moving with your breathing; the frown adorning your face makes him want to reach up and caress it away, but he holds it back.

“I don’t think I ever even loved him, you know?” You confess quietly, the words coming out of your mouth quietly but rushed as if you’d been holding them back.

It takes him back a bit, not just due to new information presented to him but the meaning behind it. He lets it linger in the air for a moment, not sure how to respond. It’s the first time you’re even openly discussing your past relationship with him. He hesitates, but feels like it’s best to ask what he’s always wondered, “Why were you with him for so long then?”

“I-” you stop, exhaling when you turn to gaze at him once again. “I don’t know,” it comes out in a whisper, yet he can still sense the vulnerability in your voice. “I guess-” you begin, sighing frustratedly. “I guess I just didn’t want to be alone.”

There’s a familiar pang in his heart at the way you say it, knowing how deeply he could relate to the words but hating it that you had to go through it. He squeezes you hand in a silent attempt of comforting you, “you weren’t alone.” He asserts, “always here with you.”

You squeeze his hand back, “I know.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours, even in the dark he can still make out the glistening in them as you stare down at him. A part of him wants to question you more, ask why you never told him you felt like that, and then he asks himself how could he not notice it? He can feel himself frowning, his thoughts rushing inside his head. But before he could even begin beating himself up for it, your voice interrupts him.

“Harry?” You say a bit hesitantly, he hums in response, blinking the invasive thoughts away. “I know this might be a bit weird.” Your voice traces off.

“What is it?”

“Do you think-” you gaze down to where your hands are grasped together, avoiding his eyes. “Do you think I could sleep down there… with you?”

His breath hitches on his throat, “Oh.”

“It’s just- I just- Dunno… wanted to be close,” you breathe out a nervous laugh. “God that was weird, I’m sorry, just- forget it.”

You try to pull your hand back but he prevents you from doing so, tightening his hold just slightly. “Hey, stop that,” he shimmers back on the mattress. “not weird at all, come here.”

He lets go of your hand to pull back the thin sheet draped over his body, inviting you in. He ignores the ways his heartbeat picks up when you drape a leg down, allowing yourself to fall next to him, not wasting a minute as you snuggle closer to his body. The citric scent of your hotel shampoo mixed faintly with sunscreen takes over his senses once you lay your head down on his shoulder.

It’s not the ideal position to be in on a warm summer night, the heat of your bodies only enhancing the high temperature. But Harry doesn’t mind in the slightest, only pulling you closer as he fights the urge to press a kiss on your head.

**

Your last day comes with a sorrowful feeling settling itself on Harry’s mouth.

It’s true what they say about time flying by when you’re having fun, the whole week of your stay seeming like had gone through in a blink of an eye for him. The simple thought of having to see you through the screen of his computer, face pixelated due to the poor internet connection, brings an unsettling ache to his chest. And he doesn’t like it one bit. As much as your visit wasn’t nearly as long as he wishes it could’ve been -- granted if it was in his way you would’ve moved in with him since the very beginning. Still, it was enough time for him to grow used to your presence every day. Enough for him to know what it feels like to wake up in his favorite place with his favorite person around. To know how it is to have you wander around the narrow streets of the city, and he fears your absence will just make them look dull in comparison.

He tries not to think about it. To waver off the thoughts of you leaving as soon as they prompt themselves into his mind. But it’s hard not to let reality hit him when he has to watch you pack your bags. Sitting in the old armchair arranged at the corner of your cramped hotel room. You try to make a light conversation, joking around about the number of souvenirs you bought as gifts — most of it being small magnets for your mom’s fridge collection. He only manages to force a short chuckle out of him, focusing back on the small window to watch the movement (or lack of) on the street.

The midday sun was shimmering proudly on top of the sky, reminding him the morning had already come and gone. He had told you the day prior that there was no need to wake up early for the day, telling you to rest so you could enjoy the night out Giorgia had invited you to. You were grateful for the extra hours of sleep, considering the hectic schedule of early rising and walking around all day was already starting to take a toll on you. But you still managed to wake up not so late, wanting to use the morning to pack your bags. Sealing the fact that it was almost time for you to leave him.

“You know, pouting in the corner is not a lot of help,” you say, a smirk adorning your face letting him know you’re just teasing him.

“Not pouting,” he mutters turning his face from you and snuggling further into the chair.

“I can see that,” you giggle, reaching for a cushion from the bad and throwing it at his lap, making him shoot a look at you, a small ‘hey!’ leaving his lips. “C’mon, the sooner I’m done with this, the sooner we can start the day properly.”

With that, he gets up from the chair just to plop himself back down on the bed in front of you. He takes a look at your clothes neatly folded next to him, watching as you grab a sock to wrap around a small statue of Romeo and Juliet so it wouldn’t break on your trip back home. He can’t help the sigh that escapes, “Not much planned til later in the afternoon, though, so you’re good.”

You raise your brows at him, “yeah?” A grin grows on your lips. “No more surprises up your sleeve?”

He breathes out a laugh, “thought I could give you a break on your last day,” his voice is soft, not matching your playful tone. “just want to hang out in my apartment for a bit before we have to leave to meet everyone.”

“Oh, so will I finally get the honor to visit the Styles private residence?” you gasp.

“It’s nothing much, you’ll see,” he says, fidgeting with his nails. “But I do have the slimmest balcony in the world, that we can partially sit on.”

“Well, I better hurry up and finish with this then,” you gather a pile of clothing lying on the bed and place it inside the open luggage resting on the floor.

It doesn’t take you much longer to finish up arranging your clothes back inside your bag, leaving a few pieces out for you to change into when you eventually go to sleep. You don’t bother to pick out a different outfit to catch your flight in the early morning, arguing that you’re not trying to impress anyone at the plane so you might as well just go in your pajamas and make your life a bit easier.

And soon, Harry guides you around the familiar blocks that lead back to his apartment building. Just like he had warned you about, it’s very much a student’s home, the best one he could afford with his savings from some jobs he could get here and there. It’s still more than enough for him to fill the sense of being home after a stressful day. He’s got a few plants around that he bought from a girl in his photojournalism class that was obsessed with botanics. There are a few books splattered around his center table and he realizes he had completely forgotten to clean around before having you here.

“Is Mateo in here?” You ask as he urges you in the direction of his room before you can take notice of the mess in the living room.

“I think he’s out with his girlfriend,” he rushes you in, closing the door behind in once you enter the room. “It’s just us here.”

You hum in response, looking around the place he’s been making his own for months. He reaches for the folded chairs leaning against his closet doors. They’re usually used by him and Mateo during the weekends when they feel like staying home and drinking as they watch the sky turn dark around them. But now he gets to do it with you — except the night sky, considering there are still hours left of sunlight upon you.

“Look at her!” You utter suddenly, causing Harry to glance at you over his shoulder as he opens the glass doors that lead to his balcony. He catches a glimpse of his broken Polaroid camera in your hands — having completely forgotten about it. “Can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Me neither,” he sets the chairs down on opposite ends, but still close enough thanks to the narrow space. “I’ll get someone to fix her soon enough, though.”

“I’m glad,” you set the camera back down to where you found it. Harry leans back on the open door behind him, watching as you snoop around his room.

He can’t contain the smile that rips through his lips when you look at the pictures he had spattered on the wall next to his bed, reaching to touch one of the two of you. It’s a picture from your last birthday before he left for Italy, ironic enough, one that had been taken but your then-boyfriend. Harry had his arms wrapped around your shoulders, chin resting on top of them as you both smiled widely to the camera.

Your back faces him as you keep looking around, preventing him from knowing your reaction. He zooms out for a moment, eyes fixed on a random point of his wooden floor of the quiet room. A gasp from you causes him to break away from his thoughts, jumping a bit with the sudden sound.

You turn to look at him, mouth agape in shock, your hold up a small bottle of black nail polish — something that Harry had completely forgotten about it. “Is this yours?”

“Yup,” he nods. “Peter gave it to me a couple months ago.”

“You’ve never told me you painted your nails!” You shake your face in disbelief. “I’ve never even seen you with your nails painted!”

He chuckles, “Haven’t done it a lot, love, probably just once or twice.” he shrugs, looking down at his clear nails, “I’m proper shit at it, if I’m honest, always get it all smudged.”

“Not anymore,” your grin grows. “You gotta let me do your nails, H.”

“Course you can,” he breathes out a laugh. “When do I ever tell you no?”

A squeak leaves your mouth as you jump to him, giving him a quick hug. “You’re gonna look so good with your nails done.”

Harry simply rolls his eyes, ignoring your comment as he feels a familiar warm feeling on his ears. You motion towards the chair he had prompted on the balcony, bouncing to the other one as he props himself down on it. Crossing your legs under your bum, you take one of his hands, resting it gently over your knee as you bend down to start the process. He stares down at you, appreciating your concentrated features, a frown adorning your forehead, tongue sticking out just barely as you focus on applying a thin coat over his nails. His heart skipping a beat as you peek at him from under your lashes, making him look away quickly, eyes wandering mindlessly through the surroundings.

The apartment is not high enough so you can have a perfect overlook of the city from it, but it’s still a nice view nonetheless. There’s a modest park just by the corner of his street, and from where he sits there’s a perfect view of the greenery arranged around the perimeters. At this time he can discern some families enjoying their summer, some children’s pitched screams as they run around in the small playground echoing through the otherwise quiet street.

“Can’t believe you’ve kept this secret from me,” your voice breaks the silence between you two.

He glances back at you, meeting your eyes as you lean down briefly to blow air at his nails, making him realize that you were done with the hand. He places his other one on top of your knee before you even tell him to switch, arching his brows at your words. “Hardly a secret, told I don’t do it a lot.”

“Well, that’s about to change,” you say as you start to work on the blank nails presented in front of you. “If it was for me you’d never leave your nails unpainted ever again.”

A short laugh erupts from his lips, “if only I knew how to paint them properly.”

You click your tongue, holding his ring finger as you flick the brush carefully over the nail. “Guess I’ll have to move here then,” you joke, looking up with a smirk. “So I can be your personal nail technician.”

He bites back a smile, dismissing the warmth in his chest from the simple suggestion behind your words. “Guess you’ll have to.”

**

Harry’s upset.

And he knows he shouldn’t be. He doesn’t want to be. But he can’t help it.

It’s your last night before you catch an early flight back home, and he’s barely seen you since the moment you stepped in the bar.

And what’s even more upsetting to him is that going out to this place wasn’t even in his plans, to begin with. Originally, he had planned on having a simple relaxing day, just the two of you. To have you sitting next to him on the terrace of his building, feeding you his perfected recipe of bruschetta while you share a bottle of wine. He can almost picture it, the sky a perfect mix of colors as the sun sets behind the buildings, your cheeks flushed and lips reddened from the alcohol. He can see your full smile whilst you exchange stories from the time you’ve spent apart or recall fondly memories of the times you were together as the night flies by without either of you noticing.

But none of that actually happened, of course. All due to his inability to say ‘no’.

Instead, here he is, in a bar he doesn’t even like that much — it’s always way too crowded and the music is way too loud to even attempt on having a conversation.

It was Giorgia’s idea; she insisted you had to experience a night out in Rome, and with her being so excited to meet you he couldn’t find it in his heart to say no. At the time he didn’t even consider the possibility of not being by your side. Thinking it would be nice to go out with you for the last time, expecting to have a fun night drinking fruity shots of unknown drinks. Maybe deep down he even thought about the possibility of being able to have you all over him, knowing how clingy you can get after a few drinks.

But those thoughts were snatched away from him almost as quickly as you were once the two of you stepped into the bar. The girls pulled you from his side to show you around, and all he was left with was a quick glance from over your shoulder before you disappeared into the crowd.

So here he is. Sitting at the table with a bloke he doesn’t even know (he was presented to him at some point, but Harry didn’t really bother to register his name). The man was rambling about something Harry couldn’t really care less at the moment, only nodding along to his words and offering short replies every so often. He’s aware of the deep frown between his brows, his eyes peeking at you every minute or so.

You’re standing near the bar with Giorgia leaning in to say something into your ear. He can see a smile breaking into your face and at this point, he’s aware that he’s staring. Your eyes meet his and for the first time, he doesn’t break eye contact when you catch him watching you, offering a weak smile instead. He can tell even from afar that you notice his grouchy expression, saying something back to the girl next to you before you strut in his direction.

“Are you okay?” You question as you get close to him, your brows meeting in a frown, and your worried eyes meeting his own. “You’ve been a bit distant, what’s wrong?”

His heart flutters in his chest, just the fact that you’re checking up on him is enough to make him feel warm in all the nicest ways. He takes a sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly as he breaks his gaze from you. “I’m fine,” he begins, knowing he would never tell you in a million years what’s really making him so grumpy. “Just not feeling so well.”

You don’t believe him, of course you don’t, knowing him way too well to figure out he’s lying through his teeth. But thankfully for him, you don’t press it further, knowing this isn’t the best place for this discussion. Instead, you place your hand on his knee, rubbing it softly before you lean in. “Do you want to leave? We can go back to your apartment.”

“It’s okay, love,” he reassures, “can’t waste your last night here.”

“Wouldn’t be a waste,” you argue back, so quickly he knows there’s not a doubt in your mind as you say it. “Just wanna spend it with you, doesn’t matter how.”

And now he feels as if his heart could beat right out of his chest, just rip a hole right through it and give itself to you. He feels his bloodstream running through his veins, his whole body warming up to it as if every cell was lighting up with the words coming out of your lips.

He wants to tell you that’s all he needs as well. He wants to tell you how being with you it’s enough for him. He opens his lips to do it, but one look into your eyes just makes his mind go blank. So instead, he just blurts out, “I’m gonna take a wee.”

And just like that, he gets up from the booth, barely giving you enough time to nod in response as he rushes towards the bathrooms. The sound of the shame in his mind for choosing the easy way out is so loud he can almost hear ringing in his ears. He thanks all the outer forces in the world when he finds the man’s room unoccupied, walking into it before closing the door behind him with a shaky breath leaving his lips.

Harry doesn’t know what exactly is making him feel like this. If it’s the fact that it’s your last night with him and he’s barely got a single minute with you. Or if it’s the weight of the unspoken words between the two of you starting to overwhelm him. It’s almost like a game you two play, tiptoeing around the emotions that dare to appear every time there’s a lingering touch or a knowingly look shared between the two of you. It’s those moments of intimacy without necessarily touching each other, when you allow yourself to feel vulnerable with a simple act of sharing words. There’s something overpowering about those moments, Harry thinks. And it’s all coming to him now.

He looks up to meet his eyes on the small dirty mirror hanged on the bathroom wall. There’s nothing much different from the reflection he saw before leaving his apartment to come to the bar, maybe apart from the deep frown still marking the skin between his brows, and his hair a bit messier from running his hands through it so much. His eyes hold back an ache from the thoughts wavering around his mind.

It’s pathetic, really. That’s the best word he can come up to describe how he feels. Being in a grimy bathroom on a packed bar the moment he realizes how in love he is with his best friend. This is not a new discovery for him, of course, he was gone for you since the very first moment you got introduced to each other. But this was a feeling that, as time passed by, he’s learned to overlook for the sake of keeping you close, even if it wasn’t the way he yearned for.

Maybe he perfected his own capacity of ignoring his emotions that for a moment he convinced himself they weren’t there anymore. He scoffs at himself, shaking his head almost in disbelief. Pathetic.

He really thought that the distance it would just eventually dull the longing in his heart, but what he didn’t expect was for it to have the complete opposite effect. Seeing you just lit up this part of him he had buried deep inside of his heart.

There’s no reason anymore keeping him from telling you. There hasn’t been one for months now, ever since your last breakup.

He takes a deep breath, splashing a bit of water on his face as he wishes he could’ve had enough to drink to give him the burst of courage to even face you after this moment of realization with himself. He’s aware of how long it’s been since he excused himself, so with a final look to his reflection he leaves the small bathroom with the same rush he had gotten in.

His mind is rushing with too many thoughts for him to even keep up with as he approaches the booth he left you waiting in. But as soon as the table comes into his vision he freezes in his place, taking in the sight in front of him.

You’re sitting there in the exact same spot you were when he left. What unsettles him is the figure sitting next to you. It’s the same bloke that was talking to him after you left with the other girls - the one he still couldn’t remember the name if his life depended on it.

The man had clearly scooped closer to you after Harry left the scene, his arm conventionally resting on top of your seat. It’s evident on the stupid smirk growing on his face as he pushes his dirty blond locks from his face, his undoubtfully charming Italian accent probably apparent while he chats you up. You don’t seem to be minding the attention either, your lips turning into a smile as your fingers fiddle with the straw of your drink.

It feels like someone punched Harry in the stomach, maybe even the actual act wouldn’t hurt him as much as it does to see you flirt with a guy equivalent of a Hollister model. It brings a suffocating ugly feeling to take over every cell of his being. The words that had been playing in his mind completely disappearing.

It’s at this moment he wishes he could’ve drunk enough to cloud his senses. Wishes he could blame the drinks for his irrational decision of intervening the conversation. But it’s not the alcohol that makes him stride in the direction of the booth, it’s something much stronger - jealousy.

You can feel his presence as soon as he gets close, turning around to look at him with the smile still splattered on your face. He doesn’t even register how your eyes light up, shooting a stern look at the man still leaning towards you. “Harry—”

“We should go,” he interrupts you, cringing as his voice leaves harder than he had intended to.

“Oh,” your smile drops, frowning at him. “Are you still not feeling well?”

“I just--” he softens his expression when he meets your eyes. Looking down, the embarrassment of his thoughtless reaction getting to him as he tries to find an excuse for his request, breathing out in frustration when he can’t think of one. “Just think we should go.”

“Okay,” your voice is calm and causes a pang to hit his heart when you shoot him an understanding smile, not questioning the reasoning behind his words any further.

Soon, after saying your goodbyes, you are walking silently side by side on the sidewalk that quickly had become so familiar for the two of you - the one leading to your hotel. Harry can’t help but beat himself up the whole way back. He mindlessly pokes at his nails - a bad habit of his when he’s too anxious - not even realizing he was chipping the nail polish you had carefully applied earlier.

He can feel you gaze up at him every so often, your lips parting as if to say something but never doing it. And as the lights from inside the glass front doors of your hotel get closer, he can feel the heaviness in his heart weighing down, the guilt of cutting short your last night together settling into his mind. He keeps his eyes glued to the sidewalk as you come to a stop just before you reach the entrance of the building.

It takes him a second to notice you stayed behind, making him stop in his tracks and look up to meet your eyes. The lighting on the street is dim, but it’s enough for him to make out clearly the worry in your expression.

“Harry,” you call him, your voice small but tender. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

His eyes break from yours, focusing on the detail of the exposed bricks behind you, moving to the streetlight a few meters away, looking at anything but you. After his scene back in the bar, he doesn’t even know what to tell you, racking his brain for the right words but whenever he thinks of a way to confessing the truth, there’s something holding him back.

It’s the second time in the night he wishes he had more to drink earlier in the evening. Maybe with a few drops of alcohol on his bloodstream, the words would fly easier from his lips.

From the corner of his vision, he can see you step closer to him. Your hand comes up to caress his cheek, moving his head gently so his eyes are locked on yours once again. “Please, H, I know something is up,” you plead, retracting your hand leaving only the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin. “Don’t wanna leave with this weird feeling between us.”

You’re right, and he’d be damned if he lets you go with this last impression of him. “I don’t think there’s a right way for me to say this,” he says his thoughts out loud, “seeing you again — having you here with me, just made me, I guess, admit to myself something I’ve been holding back for way too long now.” his heart pounds in his chest as he searches into your eyes for a single clue of your feelings.

He can tell you’re confused, your brows arching up as you wait for him to continue, but any other thought going through your mind is a mystery to him, which only makes it harder for him to get the words out.

“I just--” he lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding, fuck it. “I just don’t think I can go another minute without knowing how it feels to kiss you.”

The words come out near to a whisper, visibly taking you back as you widen your eyes slightly at the confession. It takes you a moment to process, his eyes looking desperately into yours in a search for a trace of reciprocity, or rejection, or anything really.

“Harry,” you finally say, after what seemed like an eternity to him. “Is this — does this mean—”

He allows himself to take a step closer to you, this time he’s the one reaching to caress your cheeks. His moves are still hesitant, but once he realizes you’re not pulling back he cups your face, thumbs rubbing lovingly at your cheekbone. “Means I’m in love with you, darling,” he’s done holding back.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, the closeness between you two makes him aware of the tears that poll up on your waterline. “I love you too,” your voice cracks, the word coming low as you swallow back a cry.

He still hears them, though, he hears them just fine. His own eyes well up as he lets his forehead fall against yours, his lips parting in a smile so big it almost rips his face in half. “Oh baby,” he lets out a relieved chuckle, “could get used to hearing that.”

The most beautiful giggle comes out of your mouth, your hand moving to the back of his neck pulling him in. “Thought you said you couldn’t take another minute without kissing me,” you bite down a smile.

He gives you one last look, his eyes so loving it feels as if there’s nothing else in this world apart from the two of you. His hand moves to tangle into your hair when he finally leans down to close the space, meeting your mouths in the middle. The kiss is soft and slow, the nerves behind it still radiating from the two of you, but slowly fading away with the excitement of fulfilling the long-overdue desire shared.

It’s a new feeling to you, knowing how it is to have his lips against yours, but somehow it still gives you a sense of familiarity. The excitement of a new discovery, yet the comfort of the intimacy. But the last thing occupying your mind is the duality of emotions in your heart as his tongue smooths your bottom lip. He steps forward, gently pushing you until you can feel your back against the wall of the long-forgotten building behind you.

Not once does he breaks the kiss, only deepening it when your back meets the exposed bricks. His hand massages the hair on the back of your neck as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you as close as possible — almost as if to convince himself that this was, indeed, real.

You stay like this for a moment, exploring each other’s mouths, getting used to the feeling of being closer than you’ve ever been in the years of friendship. Eventually, he pulls back to catch his breath, pecking your lips softly before he lets his forehead rests against yours.

For a moment, you just stay like this. Looking at the other without being able to hold back a smile. Simple enjoying the exciting bliss surrounding you with heavy breaths and puffy lips.

You decide to break the silence, your voice low. “Would you like to come up to my room?”

The cutest giggle erupts from his lips, “so polite.” He leans to give another peck at your lips. “Of course I would, baby.”

The way up to your room is a bit of a blur. Both too entranced on one another to pay attention to it, sneaking touches on the elevator ride while exchanging knowing glares. You feel like a teenager sneaking with her boyfriend without her parent’s knowledge, both trying to keep their hands to themselves, that is until you open the door to your room.

At the moment your door clicks behind you his lips are back on yours, this time more desperate, not wasting a second as he licks into your mouth. His hands grip onto your waist moving up to rub at the side of your breasts.

You move your own hands to grab at the hem of his shirt before slipping the underneath it, scratching where you know his inked ferns lie upon his skin. He grunts softly into your lips, breaking the kiss to slip the shirt off of him completely.

“Someone’s eager,” you tease, smoothing your palms over his chest as you push him gently in the bed's direction.

He throws the clothing blindly on the floor before reaching his hand on your jawline. A smirk grows on his face, his irises dilated with lust staring down at you. “Been waiting for this for too fucking long, darling.”

Once the back of his knees hit the mattress, he sits back on it, pulling you in by the back of your thighs so you’re on top of his lap. As you relax into him, his hands reaching for your hips to pull you closer, the new position makes you well aware of the growing bulge under his trousers. He leans forward to connect his lips on your neck, spattering kisses down the side of your neck, sucking a few spots on your skin.

You tangle your hand into his hair, pulling at it with a small whine when he bites into the one spot under your jawline. He grunts into your skin, sucking on it again this time causing an actual whimper escape from your throat.

“Christ, baby,” he pulls back to look up at you, his rosy lips forming a cocky grin. “You’re a fucking dream, aren’t you?”

You just giggle in response, drawing him in to connect your lips once again. His hands move on your back as if he’s trying to touch you everywhere at once, settling themselves on the straps of your dress, playing with it for a second before pulling it down your shoulders. What he’s not expecting is to be met with your bare chest underneath, nipples hardening from the exposure.

He breaks the kiss to look down shamelessly, hands moving to the side of your breasts. “Fuck—” he mutters under his breath, bringing his thumb to hover over your nipple, barely touching it. “Trying to kill me, angel?”

Harry’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in so you arch your back towards him, almost seeming like an invitation. To which he gladly accepts, leaning now to envelop one of your buds with his mouth. He sways his tongue over it, the warm feeling enhancing the sensitivity of it. You don’t hold back the moan that escapes your throat, grinding your hips down at his in a quick movement. This makes him pull off with a groan, spattering open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts.

“Arms up, babe,” he says, pulling back to look at you as you oblige, holding your arms above your head. His hands fiddle with the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head so quickly you barely register the piece of clothing leaving your body.

Once you’re almost naked apart from your simple pastel pink underwear, he wraps an arm around your waist once more. This time, however, instead of pulling you close, he turns his torso, making a move as if to get up, but only switching positions so that you’re lying on the bed. You back hits the covers maybe a bit too harsher than he had intended too, but you don’t mind one bit, the roughness in his actions only contributing to the growing damp on your core.

He stands at the end of the bed, shifting off of his trousers as he looks down at you. It’s not simply a lustful gaze, from having you laid out in front of him — a thought he had entertained himself with for years. It’s more than anything a loving gaze, his darkened eyes glistening at you as he gives you the sweetest smile, causing his dimple to mark his cheek. He takes a moment after getting rid of his pants to just take your sight in, just for a second. You get shy under his eyes, but before you can even think of hiding away from it he’s crawling towards you.

Once he gets to your eye level again, hovering above you, silver cross hanging from his neck, he kisses you. But unlike the other hungry filled ones, this time it’s tender, his mouth moving so slow it makes you melt under his touch. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” his lips brush against yours. “The most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

You chuckle, pulling back to look at him. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” he spatters kisses along your cheek before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “Reckon I could hang your picture on the walls of a museum, let everyone see how beautiful you are.”

There’s a blush creeping on your cheek, the warmth taking over the back of your neck as you feel goosebumps rising on your skin due to the low tone of his voice. You’ve always known Harry for being a sweet talker, knowing he could charm anyone with his words. But something about hearing him say it to you in such an intimate moment, voice raspy as he mutters in your ear, makes your heart stutter in your chest.

You wrap your legs around his ass, pulling him down so his crotch meets yours above the fabric of your underwear. He grinds down slightly, grunting down as he lets his head fall on your shoulder, mouthing down at your neck.

“Wanna taste every inch of you,” he moves to kiss the corner of your lips.

His lips start to move down, peppering kisses along your jawline, but you only let him get as far as the base of your neck, pulling at his shoulders to prevent from moving further. “Later,” you whimper when he brings his hips down to meet yours again, the action only building up the desire bubbling at the pit of your stomach. “We have all night for that.” He looks at you with arched brows, “just need you close.”

“You have me,” he says, his words somehow seeming like much more than just lustful thinking.

His hands hold on to your thighs, digits digging into your skin. He sits back on his calves, leaning in to suck into a spot on your stomach before straightening his posture so he stands tall above you. There’s a moment of teasing when his fingers waver over your skin, the ghost of his touch sending chills down your spine straight to your damped center. It makes you whimper with anticipation, raising your hips upward.

“Someone’s eager,” he repeats your words with a smirk, bringing his fingers to meet the waistband of your underwear.

You lift your hips when he begins to pull the material out of your body, raising your legs so he can pull it off completely. His breath noticeably hitches once he takes a look down at your glistening folds, your arousal beginning to pool.

“Shit, baby--” his fingertip brushes over your core, gathering some of the wetness. You inhale sharply, moving to support your body on your forearms, looking down to watch his moves. “Fucking drenched for me, look at that,” he breathes out.

He eases two fingers into you, without much of a warning. The easiness to which you take him makes him mutter a ‘fuck’ under his breath. He starts with a slow but steady rhythm, stretching you out. There’s a needy moan that leaves your lips once he brings his thumb to nudge at your clit, hands grasping the covers. The sound makes him snap his eyes at you, crawling back to hover above you without stopping the movement of his digits inside of you.

You move your hands to clutch at his hips when he’s in your eye level again, nails digging into the skin as you try to bring him down, but he’s restricted by the position of his own hand between your thighs.

“Harry,” you cry out, opening your eyes you didn’t even register had been closed. “More, please—” you grip at his hips again as if to assert your request.

His fingers pull out of you completely, you clench around the emptiness, sighing in frustration. He makes a show of bringing them between his lips, sucking into them and letting out a satisfied hum. Your eyes keep locked in his, nails clutching at his briefs, trying to pull them down.

He supports himself above you with one arm moving the hand that was previously in his mouth to meet your desperate one grabbing at his underwear. He shifts awkwardly as he removes the last piece of clothing separating you two. His cock slaps back at his stomach, a line of precum already accumulating at the reddened tip.

You hold your breath when he wraps his hand around himself, giving it a few pumps. He lets out a pleased breath, smiling cockily as your hips buck towards him impatiently. A few strands of his hair fall charmingly against his forehead when he looks back at you, lips puffy when he leans to give you a peck.

“Ready?” He rasps, lips brushing against yours. You nod almost desperately, trying to bring him closer. “Let me know if you need me to stop, okay?”

Your head falls back on the cushions once you feel him glaze his tip between your folds, circling it at your clit before he finally nudges his hips forward. A gasp escapes from your throat as his length fills you in, his forehead falling against yours with a low moan. He pushes it all the way in, allowing you a moment to get used to it. He reaches for your hands, enlacing your fingers together and lifting them just above your head.

“God,” he chokes once he’s fully inside, thrusting his hips involuntarily when you clench around him, earning a low mewl from you. “Feel that, baby? Feel me all the way in your belly?”

You whine his name, “So good, please--” you grind your hips in a silent plead to get him to move.

He doesn’t waste another second, pulling back only to thrust in again. You let out a high moan this time, hands gripping tighter on his, noses brushing. He drives his hips down at your in a slow but hard pace, the sound of your skin slapping mixing with your whimpers in the hot air surrounding the two of you. With each thrust, there’s a delicious burn between your thighs, only helping to heighten the rush of pleasure taking over your body.

“So good— Feel so good around me,” Harry groans, quickening the pace in which his hips meet yours. “Thought about it for so long, baby. — fuck, needed you for so long.”

“You have me,” you let out a sharp pant, cursing his name when he hits a spot inside of you, toes curling on the back of his thighs. You repeat with a quiet moan, your mind hazy with desire. “You have me.”

“I love you,” he says with a sharp grunt, and you feel like your heart might hammer right out of chest at any moment. “Christ, darling, hear that? So wet around me, gonna make me slip right off.”

His words only intensify the bubbly feeling taking over your stomach, your walls pulsating around him. He swears with a pleased moan, rhythm faltering. One of his hands untangles itself from your fingers, moving down to rub swift circles over your clit. You cry out, arching your back, feeling an electric bliss consuming every cell of your body.

“Cum for me,” he pleads, only increasing his movements when you feel you burst under him, riding out your high with sloppy thrusts, feeling his own orgasm creep at the pit of his stomach.

“Harry,” you let out a mewl once you come down, the sensitivity becoming almost overwhelming.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to quiver above you, his cock twitching inside of you. His face buries on your throat, a drawn-out whine vibrating on your skin as he releases his orgasm.

You stay like that for a while, a mess of sweaty limbs, trying to catch your breaths. Your mind is still cloudy from the bliss, trying to wrap itself around what just happened. With a pleased sigh, you unwrap your shaky legs from around his waist, letting them fall limply on the covers.

With that, Harry shifts his body with a tiny grunt, weakly rolling on his back so he’s lying on the spot next to you. You turn on your side to face him. There’s a tender smile painted on his face when you lock eyes, his arm wrapping around you to pull you closer, pressing his lips on the top of your head.

“Maybe they’ll delay your flight again,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of hope sweeping in the back of his mind. “So you can stay longer.”

“Shh,” you bring your hand to caress his cheek, poking out your thumb to line at his bottom lip. “Let’s not think about that just yet.”

“Okay.”

And for a moment you two just stay there, admiring each other without saying a word. There are a thousand unanswered questions waving around the room, but none of you feels like going into them. So instead, you just enjoy the other, your breaths still a bit heavy and chests fluttered. But melting into each other's touch.

Harry’s fingers are gentle as they smooth on your cheek, the feeling so soothing it makes you close your eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he pleas, his voice just above a whisper. “Don’t want this to be over.”

Your smile is tender and warms his heart in the most beautiful ways, your eyes fluttering open as your hand reaches up to move a strand of his hair from his forehead. “It doesn’t have to be.”