#the only reassurance i have is that no amount of masking has helped me pass the vibe check LMFAO 😭

[nekoning]

waiting for the results of my assessment is wrecking my brain and i can't focus on drawing bc my mind is like "what if it's just social anxiety and everything else has unexplainable reasons unrelated to autism"

[incognit0slut]

DARK DESIRES

Last part of kinktober | main masterlist

ghostface!spencer x fem!reader; dubcon, knife play, sensory deprivation, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, rough sex

A twisted encounter with the masked killer roaming in your neighborhood had you questioning your morals because as it turned out, you were more attracted to him than you let on.

words: 6335

a/n: this fic might not be everyone's cup of tea. IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU, DO NOT ENGAGE. Anyway, thank you for the amount of love everyone has sent me through this short series. I appreciate it❤️

THE FIRST ENCOUNTER you had with the masked killer was at home. You were in your living room, absentmindedly flipping through the channels on the television until the news captured your attention. You watched with a mix of fascination and horror as the unfolding report detailed a series of gruesome murders, each committed by a mysterious figure concealed behind a chilling mask.

"The armed suspect remains at large as law enforcement intensifies efforts for apprehension," the newscaster's voice declared. "Victims have sustained multiple stab wounds, with survivors recounting a chilling detail of a mysterious call from an unknown number before each attack. Citizens are urgently requested to report any suspicious phone activity."

As you sat there engrossed, a sense of dread began to coil around you. The details of the gruesome murders had been haunting enough, but a chilling realization gripped you as the camera panned across the crime scenes. Your eyes widened as the news footage revealed a recognizable building. That was the local library a few blocks away from your house.

A shiver went down your spine, and a cold unease settled in the pit of your stomach, as you realized that one of the victims was the young teenage boy who volunteered at the town's library every weekend. It then dawned on you with chilling clarity—a serial killer was lurking in your neighborhood.

The second time you saw the masked killer, his face was plastered around town. Ghostface. That was what they called him. The once-anonymous menace had transformed into a chilling icon that echoed through hushed conversations and whispered warnings. His mask, a pale and expressionless countenance with hollow eyes, exuded an unsettling aura of anonymity. It was what you saw in every corner; materializing on posters, shop windows, and even billboards.

Beware of Ghostface!

It was ironic. For someone who was murdering people with his bare hands, your community was giving him too much attention. It wasn't until you saw a group of well-dressed people, who clearly weren't from around here, that you realized how serious this situation was.

When the FBI arrived, you knew it was no longer a local matter, but a national concern. There was reassurance in their presence, in the sense that the full force of specialized agents was now focused on apprehending the killer that haunted the streets. But despite their formidable presence, against all expectations, the masked killer continued to pursue more victims.

You couldn't help but wonder every time someone you knew was reported dead—were these people even doing their job right? What were they doing here when they couldn't arrest one person when they came in a full pack?

You never really noticed these agents, although you did sometimes see them lurking around shops and houses to ask questions. You didn't really give them much attention, until that one night when you walked back from work and saw a figure leaning casually against a sleek, black SUV adorned with government markings.

He was standing alone, arms crossed and eyes focused on you as you slowly stepped closer because the only way to your house was to pass this street. He was clad in the quintessential FBI vest over his dress shirt and tie, his sleeves rolled up along his forearms. His height commanded attention, casting a subtle shadow that seemed to stretch into the surrounding darkness.

A cascade of curly, unruly locks framed his face, falling in a chaotic dance that obscured much of his features. But even in the dark, you could tell he was handsome, and the messiness of his hair added a touch of his disheveled charm. Yet, it was his eyes that held you captive. Stark and penetrating. Instead of finding comfort in the presence of an authority, you felt an unsettling chill crawl down your spine as his stare lingered on you.

"You shouldn't walk alone at night with a killer on the loose," he stated abruptly, his voice cutting through the silence.

Caught off guard, you stammered in response, "I, uh, my house is right around the corner."

His eyes, still fixed on you, held an inscrutable intensity. You shuddered. Without thinking much, and fueled by a sudden surge of unease, you briskly left his side.

People say the third time's a charm, that the idea after two unsuccessful attempts or failures, the third attempt is more likely to be successful or fortunate. However, in your case, you didn't know what to make of it when you encountered the masked killer for the third time.

It started with a call.

At first, you didn't bother the unknown number flashing on your phone, especially when a killer was roaming around town with its known trademark of calling his victims before his attack. So you ignored it and continued to prepare your dinner. But then it rang again. Once. Twice. Three times. The fourth time it constantly rang, you realized, that whoever was on the other line wasn't going to stop until you answered.

"Hello?" you nervously greeted.

"Hello there. Took you long enough," the voice on the other line replied. It was soft, distinctly masculine, quite disoriented, yet it carried a mysterious familiarity that you couldn't put your finger on.

"Who is this?"

"A person."

You scoffed. "Charming. Goodbye."

"Wait—no! Don't hang up!"

There was a sudden nagging sense that you had heard this voice somewhere before. "No, really, who is this?"

"A secret admirer." 

You raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it," you said, leaning over the kitchen counter. "No one has ever had a crush on me."

"Well, I do."

"Tell me who you are then.”

"But it won't be a secret anymore."

You paused for a moment. "You really know me?" 

"Of course, I do."

"Do I know you then?"

"Maybe," he answered, a playful ambiguity threading his response. "So, you got a boyfriend?"

What an odd question.

"Why?" You laughed. "You wanna ask me out on a date?" 

"Maybe," he responded again. "So do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"That's a pity," he sighed, his tone taking on a flirtatious note. "You look too good in that shirt without a man appreciating it."

Your heart quickened at his words. Was he... you looked around your house, your eyes traveling across the many windows adorned in your personal space.

"W- What did you say?" 

"You look too good in that white shirt," he repeated. "Doesn't leave much to the imagination." 

You looked down at yourself. The shirt he mentioned was actually a tanktop you decided to wear for bed, but you weren't wearing anything else under it, so true to his words, this piece of clothing didn't leave much to the imagination. The hemline hung low on your chest, leaving a perfect view of your cleavage. The cold temperature of the room managed to make your body react, which was why your nipples were pressing hard against the material.

"Hello? Are you still here?" Sensing your silence, the voice on the other line held a sudden edge of urgency. "Wait—don't you hang up on me—"

You quickly ended the call. Feeling a sudden need for privacy, you hastily closed the curtains, shutting out the view from the windows as you clutched your phone in your hand. Your heart raced, and a wave of dread engulfed you. The unsettling possibility that someone might be targeting you, and not just anyone, but the masked killer, cast a chilling shadow over your thoughts.

The phone rang again. You hesitated, a part of you urging against answering, but somehow, almost involuntarily, you found yourself pressing the phone against your ear. The adrenaline of fear seemed to override your rational instincts, even against your better judgment. 

"I told you not to hang up on me," the man greeted you, but his voice lacked the soft, friendly tone it had before. Instead, it had morphed into something more sinister.

"Wh-who is this?" you asked. "What do you want?"

"To volunteer. Let me appreciate how good you look tonight."

You were desperate now. Your feet guided you to the front door, and you locked it securely before quickly running up the stairs. Panic seized you as you checked and secured all the windows, the sense of vulnerability amplifying with each lock turned.

A sudden sound of laughter filled your ear. 

"What you're doing is useless," he taunted. Then, with a sinister tone that cut through the air, his next words had you stopping in your tracks.

"I'm already inside."

The air in the house thickened with dread as his words hung ominously. Panic set in, and the once-familiar surroundings now felt like a trap closing in around you. Every creak of the house, every flicker of shadow, became a sign of impending danger.

He was the one to end the call, and you looked down at your front door from the top of your stairs. You calculated how long it would take you to escape your own house as you slowly descended down. But then, the closet door by the front, the small room where you kept your coats and unused items, suddenly opened.

The creak of the door echoed through the silence, and your eyes fixated on the widening gap. Your escape route seemed to diminish and fear paralyzed you. The once-familiar confines of your home now held an intruder, and as you stared at the ominous opening, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Your eyes widened, because right in the flesh was none other than Ghostface, stepping out of your closet with a knife in his hand. The chilling reality gripped you, and time seemed to slow as the masked intruder stood before your eyes. The pale, ghostly visage stared back at you.

You moved on instinct. You turned on your heels and ran back up the stairs, even when you were aware there was no escape unless you jumped out of your window. But it was a better plan than running right into the arms of a killer, so you picked up your pace, sprinting as fast as you could down the hallway.

But he was fast, unnaturally so, and suddenly you felt a vice-like grip around your waist. His hand urged you with brutal force before slamming your back against the wall. The impact reverberated through your body, and a gasp caught in your throat as the cold surface of the wall pressed against you.

His presence loomed, the masked figure inches from your face. The hollow eyes of Ghostface bore into yours through the chilling mask, and the glint of the knife in his hand reflected the cruel intent that hung in the air.

Panic engulfed you as his other gloved hand circled around your throat. "Pl-Please.." you chocked, struggling against the force he pressed on your neck. "...don't—don’t kill me."

The air felt constricted, and the desperate plea escaped your lips in a struggled gasp. The gloved hand tightened its grip, the leather cool against your skin, as Ghostface's masked visage remained impassive. 

"Kill you?" he asked, an eerie edge in his voice. "That's the last thing I want to do right now."

You desperately placed a hand on his wrist as you let your phone hit the ground.

"Don't move," he warned. But you kept on thrashing around, the primal instinct for survival overriding reason, and he tightened his grip on you. "If you keep struggling, I might have to gut you out like a damn fish."

That made you stop. Satisfied you were listening, he finally let go of your throat. The release brought a gasp of air, and you stumbled back, leaning against the wall. 

"I'm not here to kill you," Ghostface declared, the chilling mask betraying no emotion. "But I do have something else in mind." 

He responded by caressing your face and pinning you against the wall. The cold, gloved hand traced a chilling path across your skin, and you felt the sharp contrast between the mask and the vulnerability of your flesh. He tilted his head as he saw the fear in your eyes, tears welling at the corners.

"Aw, come on, don't look so scared," he murmured, a perverse tenderness in his voice that clashed with the situation. His sharp blade went to your throat, the cold steel sending a shiver down your spine. He forced you to stare into the hollowness of the mask.

"Let me have my fun."

You felt the blade on your skin as he dragged the weapon along your body. He smiled when he noticed you tensing, trying to avoid the sharpness of the blade from grazing your skin. Through tear-filled eyes, you looked up, struggling to catch your breath. Fear still consumed you, a chilling grip on your senses, but alongside it, an unexpected emotion stirred. Curiosity.

As you gazed at the masked killer looming over you, a strange sense of intrigue took place. It was a baffling response, the surreal proximity to the infamous Ghostface left you grappling with a mix of terror and fascination. The sheer scale of his presence seemed to stretch into the shadows, and you couldn't help but wonder—was he actually this tall?

A sudden movement caught your attention as he took a step. He moved underneath the black cloak he wore, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he slipped a leg between yours. The confined space of the hallway seemed to shrink further as his presence pressed in on you.

And then there was silence. The air hung heavy with anticipation, and you sensed a deliberate slowness in his actions. It was as if he offered you a chance to resist, to push him away. But you didn't move. Instead, you held your breath, the rhythmic pulse of your heart echoing in the quiet.

"You've stopped struggling," he hummed to himself, trailing the knife over your shoulder. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

There wasn't time for you to reply as he hooked the blade under your top and ran it along the fabric, watching it snap under the sharp surface. The cool air hit your skin as you were suddenly exposed to him. Without warning, his other hand moved over your breasts, squeezing them roughly, earning a gasp from you. Your heart pounded with something akin to fear, or perhaps, it oddly felt like… excitement?

"Of course, you are," he muttered, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You could feel the cool touch of his gloved hand over your skin as he brushed his thumb over your sensitive bud. "Knew you were a fucking slut."

What was happening? It was wrong, morally twisted, yet you found a strange sense of anticipation as he continued to touch you. Your body was shaking, not just from fear, but from something else. While your rational side recoiled at what was happening, your body seemed to betray a darker truth.

You hated yourself. You loathed how easily you were giving in. You kept on reciting how wrong this was in your head, but when you felt the blade cut through the fabric of your shorts with ease, you didn't mind as much. Then your breath hitched when he quickly ripped your panties with his knife, and somehow you were now naked with his leg placed between your thighs.

"Would you look at that?" He taunted, his leathered hand moving over your curves. "You're dripping."

You let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up your thigh, stopping just before his fingers brushed over your heat. The touch was so faint it shouldn't have even had that much of an effect on you, but it did. It fucking did.

This was so unlike you, you weren't the kind of person to let someone you barely knew touch you. You even disliked the idea of a one-night stand. Yet here you were, legs wide open as you let a murderer touch you, and the messed up thing was, you wanted more.

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing your clit teasingly as if to test your reaction. You bit your bottom lip, stopping yourself from moaning aloud, your eyes fluttering closed as he played with your clit skillfully.

He was far too good at this, you found yourself thinking. Your body jerked as he increased his pace and you knew he had a goal in mind—to make you fall apart. The fast pace of his fingers had your brows furrowing as you chewed your bottom lip, desperate to keep quiet despite the way your hips bucked and rolled against his hand. He let out a chilling laughter.

"Stop acting like you don't want this," he said, increasing his pressure on your clit. Your eyes screwed shut, and you focused on that touch alone, the leather sliding over your wet skin. "Let me hear your pathetic voice."

You shook your head furiously.

"No?" He mocked. "You wanna bet how fast I can make you scream?"

His fingers moved from your clit, dragging down your slit and collecting your juices, briefly stroking you, earning a muffled cry out of you. Your chest began to heave, your hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over you casually. He laughed again.

"I'm going to make you scream so loud your neighbors will know how much of a slut you are."

And then he pressed the edge of the blade on your throat at the same time he plunged two fingers inside you. Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open and a loud squeal left your lips, the sound distorted by the vibrations surging through your body. He hummed in satisfaction at how fast it was to earn that moan from your lips, and surprisingly, he loved the sound you made.

It didn't take long for him to force more sounds out of your pretty mouth. You felt the coolness of the wall behind your back, the pads of your fingers brushing over the concrete in a pathetic attempt to get a hold of something, anything that could keep you steady while his fingers kept pumping in and out of your throbbing cunt with a wet, squelching sound.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, saturating every cell of your trembling body. The electrifying rush heightened your senses, amplifying the surreal nature of the pleasure. You wriggled your hips under the pressure of his body that was keeping you pinned against the wall, feeling so fucking embarrassed by the wetness dripping out of you.

"Fucking filthy, letting a murderer touch you." He then dragged his fingers out of you and started to rub your clit in tight, rapid circles. You practically cried out and quickly bit your lower lip to subside another embarrassing moan. "You know how many people I've killed with this hand? The same hand touching your sweet little pussy?"

Your thighs tightened around his hand, trying desperately to push him away. He responded by sinking three of his fingers inside you and groaned at the way you were clenching around him. "Look at you taking my fingers so well."

The leather slightly burned your skin, and somehow, it only heightened your pleasure. The heel of his palm pressed against your clit hard as he continued to curl his fingers. You gasped as your eyes fluttered open, looking up at him while his fingers pushed deeper into you, touching a spot you had never been aware of. The sensation brought an unusual feeling to your senses. You looked at him in confusion, your eyes widening.

"Pl- Please, stop," you begged out of fear of the unknown. The tickling in your abdomen was becoming almost unbearable, and you clasped your thighs together and involuntarily bent your knees a little in an attempt to make his fingers slip out of your wet cunt.

With a feral growl, he suddenly threw the knife on the floor before wrapping his hand around your throat, pinning your head against the wall.

"Take it," he hissed and tightened his grip, making you jolt forward. You helplessly part your legs and whimpered as his palm brushed over your clit with every thrust, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh as he held you in place. "Fucking take it."

The sensation was overwhelming to the point tears began to trickle down your face, and you tried to desperately blink them away as they hindered your vision.

"Oh, you're crying now?" He cooed, still rocking his fingers violently inside you. "Pathetic."

Before you knew it, your hips were bucking, distraught cries escaping you. Your body shuddered as if it were under his control, forcing out your orgasm like it was effortless as his fingers curled inside you, continuing to stimulate you even after you begged him to stop.

It wasn't long before he was bringing you back up again. His pace turned into a more intense speed that, to your surprise, the familiar contracting of your pulsing walls was followed by the splurge of weird liquid coming out of you. Your mouth fell open as you writhed against him, your sensitive cunt almost numb to the sensation as he pressed you for more.

You were so numb you could no longer feel his fingers buried deep inside your convulsing walls, squeezing around his digits as you shook in the tremors of your release. When you looked at him in shock, cheeks burning crimson and chest rising and falling heavily, a pretentious laugh left him. With a vulgar squelching sound, he slipped his fingers out of your pussy.

"Squirting like a pathetic slut,” he spat, his other hand still wrapped around your neck. "Told you I'd make you scream."

Your body turned pliant as you gave in and sank against the wall. You watched him lean down through your half-lidded eyes as you tried to ground yourself, his movements deliberate and swift, grabbing your wrecked shirt from the floor. You watched in confusion as he pressed the flimsy material together before firmly shoving it over your eyes.

Panic surged through you as the sudden darkness enveloped our vision. Although you couldn't see him, you heard him very well. His muffled breathing behind the mask, the soft rustle of fabric as he adjusted the material at the back of your head. Your other senses were heightened when you were robbed of your vision that you could even smell him.

The sharp scent of sweat and a faint hint of earthiness clung to him, as though remnants of the ground followed his presence. Yet, amidst the rawness, there was a surprising note of sweetness, as if a subtle cologne lingered beneath the surface.

God, he was so close. His chest was now pressed against yours, and then suddenly, almost forcefully, you felt warm hands grip your jaw. Your mouth fell open.

He took off his gloves.

Goosebumps rose on your skin when a sudden breeze of air brushed across your face and you gasped. You could barely think clearly, and you could barely even brace yourself when harsh lips captured your mouth desperately. You couldn't believe what was happening, because holy fuck—you were kissing Ghostface.

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way he kissed you. A deep shuddering groan rippled through him as he continued to assault your lips. You were too stunned at the way he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you in a way that had your body trembling at the sheer force of intensity traveling through your veins.

And when you finally felt his bare fingers grazing along your drenched core, going up and down your swollen folds, he captured the moan falling through your lips with a groan.

"So fucking filthy," he whispered against your lips as he continued to tease you. His voice, once muffled, was now very clear. The tones were distinct, carrying an inexplicable familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory. But before you could even try to recall where you had heard it before, he surprised you by increasing the speed of his fingers.

"You want more of this, don't you?"

You shook your head, but your body was saying otherwise. Your hand gripped his arm as he started to play with your clit again, and your knees buckled pathetically. His other hand fell on your waist to steady you while he pressed a kiss on the hollow point of your throat, traveling further up the skin till his teeth nibbled on your ear lobe.

He then grabbed onto one of your legs and hiked it around his waist as he pushed his hips into you. You could feel the outline of his hard cock behind the cloak he was wearing and you let out a whimper when he started rolling his hips.

"Is this what you want?" He rasped out at the shell of your ear. You felt strong hands grip your wrists before he pushed them above your head, pining you against the wall. "You want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You shook your head again, attempting to anchor yourself. The struggle was evident in the tension of your muscles, each fiber resisting the pull toward surrender. You should push him. You should cry for help. Yet here you were questioning your sanity as you slowly, almost desperately, grind your hips along with his, yearning for more friction.

"Dirty, dirty slut," he muttered against your lips before kissing you once again, swallowing your whimpers as his hips snapped into you. "I bet you feel so tight around me."

Desire roared fire in your veins, and you whined. He leaned over and captured one of your nipples in his wet, warm mouth, and you moaned again before he let out a satisfied hum. You could practically feel the smirk curling on his lips as he taunted, "You react so well. I might have to keep you."

Goosebumps rose along your skin. Then in a swift and forceful motion, he yanked you, abruptly pushing you to the ground. The impact was sudden and jarring, leaving you landing on your knees.

As you tried to make sense of what was happening, a hand pushed against your back, and you toppled forward, landing on the ground face-first, finding yourself on your hands and knees. A sharp smack hit your bare ass from behind and you jolted in surprise.

"Spread them wide for me," He murmured, gaze skipping over your nakedness. He marveled at the sight before him, the way you shamelessly arched your back at his command. Yet when he noticed you hesitating, he dropped his voice in a lower, sinister tone.

"Don't make me use my knife."

You quickly did as you were told, your hands traveling behind you, spreading your sticky thighs in a languorous stretch, and you shuddered under the weight of his eyes. You whined at the feeling of the cold air hitting your exposed skin and a trickle of your arousal ran down your thigh, much to your utter embarrassment. "Look how pretty you are."

Heat blossomed in your chest. Then the sound of a belt being undone had you whimpering, and you moved instinctively, arching your back even further. One of his hands landed on your ass again with a sharp smack before he gripped a firm handful of it. You could hear more rustling and a slight soft thud behind you. The lack of vision made you overly sensitive and you found yourself waiting with bated breath for his every move.

With a sharp tug, he pulled you back by your hips before one of his hands landed on the back of your neck. You felt him push down hard and you obliged, lowering your face and upper body to the floor as his other hand remained holding your hips up in the air. And then you felt him—pulsing warm right at your entrance.

A pitiful groan escaped your lips as the tip of his cock swiped back and forth along your folds. He moaned out a deep, pleasure-filled noise that reverberated around the small space at the feel of your arousal coating him. And then suddenly, without warning, he abruptly plunged inside of you. He thrust straight into that spot deep inside that stung so good a sharp cry slipped out of you. It was painful, his sheer force of girth stretching you apart, though that cry quickly became a low moan of pleasure.

The man behind you showed no mercy, thrusting his hips into you with force and purpose, so hard you felt your body inching across the hardwood floor with each stroke. Your mouth fell open when one of his hands released your neck before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you and he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher.

He held himself there as he used the grip on your hair to haul you backward to him. Your back was arched, his cock still buried deep inside of you as you fell back into his chest. For a few moments, it was almost uncomfortable, but then, surprisingly, you felt even more aroused than you already were.

You pushed your ass even higher, arching your body in search of more of that delicious sensation. It felt like electricity shocked your entire body, triggering intense waves of pleasure that repeatedly spread wildly from your core as you focused on the pleasure building between your legs, the burning sensation filling you to the brim.

It was maddening. Frustrating, even. Because you didn't even care anymore, you didn't even care if you exposed for him, you didn't even care if your knees ached from the hard friction of the floor because any shreds of sanity and pride had long since been destroyed. You wanted more. You needed more. 

It was so twisted. You longed to be broken by him. You longed to be ruined by him.

You had never imagined being in this position, kneeling on the floor with a murderer thrusting himself into you, yet here you were, whimpering at the sensation of doing the forbidden. Your mind turned delirious he released the hold on your hair, his hand snaking around your front to grip your throat.

You continued to meet his savage thrusts with your hips, slamming into you as your wail turned into a ragged scream. The sensation, though pleasurable, became too intense to handle. You attempted to move away from him, stealing his breath as your inner walls clenched around his cock. His firm hand gripped your hips tighter, preventing you from pulling away as he held you in position, thrusting his cock into your throbbing pussy.

A helpless sound trickled from your throat as your body jerked, and he mercilessly fucked you through it. Everything was so intense your mind was struggling to comprehend what was happening as he pounded into you roughly. You tried to breathe through the incredible pleasure surging through your body but you were too overwhelmed. "T-Too much."

"T-Too much," he mocked. A sinister laugh sliced through the darkness, sending shivers down your spine. "Fucking. Take. It."

His words were punctuated with every snap of his hips. The insistent thrust made you thrash your head as your body convulsed, dragging it out and heightening it to a point where you could only wail. Your breath came in harsh pants; his breathing was as rough as he urged you on, and you gave yourself over to the wildfire consuming your body. You whimpered, head rolling back onto his shoulder.

"That's it, taking me so perfectly," his voice, now a sinister whisper, slithered into your ears. "Knew you were special the moment I saw you."

A gasp escaped you, the weight of his words settling with an unsettling realization. Amidst the darkness, you felt the contours of his laughter.

"Don't act so surprised. I'm your secret admirer, remember?" You felt his hand leave your hips before it trailed toward your front. You knew what he was about to do and you clenched him involuntarily, already anticipating what was to come. 

"Fuck," He hissed. "You feel so tight around me. I really do have to keep you now."

The coil inside you was dangerously close to snapping and he growled as your cunt clenched around his cock.

"Oh, you liked that. You like the idea of me using you? Fuck you whenever I want?" He questioned, his fingers moving to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. You bit down on your lower lip, feeling the coil in your abdomen tightening at his sharp movements, your hands moving to his wrist as you tried to ground yourself.

You gasped when you felt him tightening the grip on your throat, the skin tingling as he repeated the motion. "Filthy little thing, aren't you?"

"I-I—" You spluttered, feeling your legs going numb. You squealed when you felt him pick up his pace on your clit, rubbing messy circles against it as your back slumped against him, mouth parting, your tongue slipping out between your lips.

It was too much. You felt like you were about to explode. Your mind went blank. Your body felt numb. There was nothing else you could do but to give into the force of pleasure consuming you as he fucked you roughly, his hips hitting you in harsh motions.

"You gonna cum now?" He grunted, pressing his mouth at the shell of your ear. You helplessly nodded, not able to make out any coherent words anymore. He groaned between thrusts, keeping a firm grip on your ass to keep you from squirming. "Go on then, cum on my cock like the filthy whore that you are."

As if on command, your body spasmed involuntarily. It started with a prickling of your skin creeping up your body, over your breasts and face, inner walls tightening around his cock, and you came hard. You squirmed uncontrollably as all that pent-up pleasure welled up in your core. Your heart was pounding erratically against your heaving chest you could even hear the pounding in your ears.

Your mind was in a drunken haze as the pleasure continued to flow through your veins, his fingertips languidly brushed against your clit. But despite the desperate spasms of your pussy, he continued to penetrate your body. Every thrust hit more intensely than the last, wetness flooded from you as reality slipped away, and all you could do was burn, vocally urging him on as he moaned darkly behind you.

You were very far from sanity from everything consuming your body. You felt him everywhere. His grinding cock, the press of his fingers as they moved to toy with your clit, and his blunt nails cut around your throat. Your cunt continued to possessively grip his cock as you wailed breathlessly.

Heat traveled through you, body quivering and going boneless, the warm ripples of release dulling the sharp edges of your mind as he drove into you and finally chased his own high. The filthy feel of him emptying inside you, your shimmering release, and his hands decorating your skin with fingerprint bruises, was all you could focus on.

Until the distinct sound of sirens echoed in the background.

Your mind went hazy as you tried to anchor yourself and you heard him chuckle in amusement. "I guess you really woke your neighbors up," he said, letting go of his grip around your throat. You let out a breathless sigh when you felt him slipping out of you, surprisingly feeling empty.

He groaned as his eyes traveled down, watching the way his release dripped down the length of your thighs. “It’s a pity I have to cut this short.” Then you felt his lips near your ear. “Until next time."

"W- What?" Your head snapped up. "You'll come back?"

"I'll be here when you least expect it." Then the unexpected happened. He surprised you with a gentle kiss on your shoulder, a stark contrast from everything that had taken place. "Keep your doors unlocked for me."

A sudden emptiness enveloped you as he withdrew from your personal space. Your mind was struggling to make sense of what happened. And now the realization that he wasn't behind you anymore prompted your hands to instinctively reach for the makeshift blindfold, swiftly slipping it off your face.

Blinking in the sudden light, your eyes adjusted to the surroundings. Your eyes caught his figure standing tall at the top of your staircase, back turned, a fleeting glimpse of brown curls disappearing beneath the mask he hastily put back on. 

He abruptly turned to you. A shuddered gasp escaped your lips as he looked at you for another fleeting second, as if he was giving you a silent promise as the faint sound of sirens continued from the distance. You stared back at him, heart thrumming in your chest.

And then he was gone.

[ithaquasbbg]

hi!! can you write an ithaqua x reader where the reader is the one being comforted? like they had a bad day, or if it's in canon, they had a lot of bad matches. mostly fluff, maybe? i want itha to reassure me that everything is gonna be ok!

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This sat in my inbox for a while, but hope it is up to what you wanted. :)

Don’t worry- Ithaqua x reader

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Pairing : Ithaqua x reader

Tw : just a little mention of an injury :)

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Your entire body hurts, taking large amounts of effort to even take another step towards the cipher. Today had been rough, match after match resulting in losses up until this game You’re currently in- which had just started. It’s upsetting to lose as much as you have- making you feel like nothing but a nuisance for the other people in the manor. Nonetheless, you continue trying to push through this last match of today.

It’s hard to focus on decoding when you can barely keep yourself from passing out or crying at any moment. You receive shock after shock from the machine after messing up multiple times. The fact that this alerts the Hunter is something that completely leaves your mind until you feel your heartbeat picking up.

Instincts take over quickly as you run through the grass towards a window you can vault, though the moment you attempt to vault, your body gives up and collapses onto the ground below with a loud thud. Just like that, tears of frustration and pain fall down your face, looking back towards the hunter that was chasing you. To your surprise, it was Ithaqua.

Despite being unable to see his face, you can see the way he tenses up upon seeing you in pain. Quickly, he drops his weapon and sits down in front of you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. He wasn’t the best at comforting, you knew this from past experiences, but he tries anyways. “(Name), what’s wrong?” He asks, voice quiet and gentle as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t keep doing this..” you whisper, wiping your eyes and looking up at the Hunter in front of you. “All I’ve done is ruin matches.. and I’m so tired.” He hums, lifting his mask up enough to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead. “How about I give you a win then? Then you can go back to the manor and rest.”

“You’d do that?” You ask, aware that your teammates have already finished a large amount of ciphers. “Yes, (Name), I don’t mind a loss if it means you can get rest.” Within a few seconds of him saying that, you hear a sound signaling that he had surrendered and the match was now over.

Slowly, you stand up, wincing in pain when you put weight on your leg that you had hurt during the fall. “Here, let me help you.” Ithaqua’s hands gently lift you into his arms, carrying you back to your room in the manor. “Do you need ice?” He asks, taking a look at your bruised leg the moment he lays you down on the bed.

“No no, Itha, it’s fine. Just lay with me, please?” You ask, watching as the blonde takes off his mask and gives you a gentle smile as he lays down next to you. Cold hands cup your cheeks as he looks at you with a wide smile.

“(Name), everything will be okay, everyone has rough days.” He whispers, kissing your cheek as he pulls you closer to him, resting your head on his chest. “But-“ you start, only to feel a finger pressed to your lips as Ithaqua giggles “No buts, I promise you nobody is mad at you for having a rough day, alright?”

You nod and listen to the sound of Ithaqua’s heartbeat for a few moments before he speaks up again. “And if anybody is mad at you, I’ll speak with them, alright?” You laugh and nod, snuggling closer to Ithaqua. “Alright, I love you.”

And with that, you’re enveloped in the familiar warmth of the blonde and slowly drift off to sleep while listening to his breathing. How lucky you were to have a man like him.

[cursed-elements-blog]

SELFSHIPTOBER DAY 3 - Blood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It doesn't look like you'll need stitches at least..." I mutter to Chase as I begin cleaning the wound on his head. The fur around it is soaked with crimson blood, but the wound itself has stopped bleeding after applying pressure to it with a clean gauze which now sits crumpled off to the side, soaked completely through.

It was only a few minutes ago that I heard Chase scream, followed by a loud thud. Upon rushing to the source of the noise I found Chase on the ground, unconscious, with a noticeable amount of blood oozing from his head. He woke up to me kneeling above him, panicking and in tears. He wasn't even out for a full minute before waking up, but it was the scariest moment of my life. I'm still nauseous and my heart is still pounding with fear just thinking about it. For that one minute, I thought I lost him. He now sits on a stool in the bathroom as I stand next to him, helping tend to the injury. Chase winces as I dab away at the wound, cleaning it and the fur around it with a wet clean washcloth.

"Sorry..." I again mutter, pulling back to look him in the eyes before going back in to finish up cleaning. There's a bit of silence before Chase softly speaks, "...Is it still there?" I pause briefly, processing what he said. From what Chase told me, he saw a spider - an absolutely massive one - that jumped at him. He must've passed out and hit his head during the fall... To be honest, I have no idea where the spider is now. But given how severe his arachnophobia has proven to be, it's best that he doesn't know that.

"No. I killed it." I respond as I set the washcloth aside and take out an antibiotic. Chase visibly relaxes at the news, no longer worrying about the arachnid. I begin applying a thin layer of it to the wound on my otter's head, the scent of the medicinal cream is potent, causing my nose to wrinkle a bit as it overwhelms me. I always hated that chemically scent, but it masked the metallic scent of blood, and that's what I need right now. "Are you sure you're alright Chase? That thud was...loud. You must've hit your head hard."

Chase let's out a soft "Mhm" looking up to meet my eyes with his own. A small smile stretches across his muzzle, clearly trying to reassure me. "Yeah, I'm good. Not dizzy or lightheaded or anything. It doesn't even hurt that much anymore, El." He raises his arms a bit and I feel his soft paws on my torso, a nice gesture to remind me that he's here with me. While his words are nice to hear, it doesn't little to calm my nerves. "Well...I think we should still go to the doctor or somethin', just to make sure."

Chase pauses, considering the options carefully. I know I can't kidnap him and bring him to the doctor, but I'd sure as hell try if he refused. While the wound is ultimately small, there was just...so much blood. Eventually, seemingly aware of my conviction, he nods. "Alright, uh... want to head out now?" He asks. I hold up a finger, giving him a 'one moment' motion before taking a bandage and covering the wound. I throw the old soaked gauze I used to stop the bleeding into the trash, watching the blood-soaked cotton fall alongside the other disposed objects. It still makes me feel ill, thinking about all that blood. I take a deep breath and turn back to my otter, "Okay, now we can go," I say, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Chase perks up at that, giving me one in return as he begins to stand. I hold him in an effort to stabilize him, even if he doesn't really need it. I watch him carefully, making sure he doesn't topple over again. "Come on Love, let's make sure your brain is intact." I turn, leading him out of the bathroom and to the front door, grabbing his keys on the way. "Those are-" "Yeah yeah I know, but mine is low on gas." I shrug, "and you're sure as hell not drivin'. Unless you want to get injured more than you already are." I turn to look at him, a smirk stretching across my snout. "Though I suppose you drivin' all delirious-like wouldn't too different from you drivin' normally." He scoffs in mock offense at my teasing, "I'll have you know that I haven't gotten in so much as a single accident! Spotless driving record right here!"

I just laugh softly at that, taking any moment of levity I can as the two of us step out of my dorm. It's needed after today's events.

I never did well with blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[mc-critical]

Hatice really went through the wringer in E12. From desperately trying to put a barrier between herself and Ibrahim as she's already resigned herself to her fate and can't allow anyone else to know that there is (or has been) something between them and for something bad to happen to them both, to him worst of all; if she does this to him, she wouldn't stand it, wouldn't stand herself, to witnessing something bad actually happen, the worst possible thing, them being revealed and Ibrahim being brought to literal execution by her own brother, even further confirming her suspicion that no one understands her, that no one cares even though she cares so much for them, to her letting out her distress in an unrelated situation (that still adds to it) instead of internalizing it or sharing it with Gülfem or Ibrahim himself, transforming it into stormy, sweeping fury for the order and peace she craves and believes in: Mahidevran and Hürrem have to set an example just like she does, she won't let them disrupt everything, she won't lose that too, to having to reassure Mahidevran that she isn't mad at her and has her back while still dealing with her own rising yet again anxiety (and I think she lets herself give even that slightest hint of something else agitating her to Mahidevran both because it keeps lying on the very back of her mind and because Mahi showed the most direct support of her and Ibrahim by meeting them back in E09, so maybe she'd get it and leave her alone), to learning that Ibrahim is alive after all and sighing few sighs of relief, to discovering that Ibrahim wasn't just "spared" but elevated instead right when she was about to return to the already accepted routine duties (choosing silk for the wedding) and this brings her joy at first, a joy which she has a chance to share with Mahidevran as well, but after this initial euphoria passes... she doesn't know what to feel as the wedding matter hasn't ceased looming over her, to thus keeping appearances in front of Hürrem who proposes help as a sign of support in spite of how she herself feels about Ibrahim and his new position, but Hatice can't take it precisely due to how conflicted she is right now (everything seems to get better, but there still isn't much hope on the horizon - what are the odds for such a devasting scenario as yesterday's not to happen again?? His majesty doesn't know about her and Ibrahim now, but what if she nudges at that even a little, what if slips up only for moment?? What if he somehow learns then??) and puts on a mask of completely embracing the future that would await her, to checking on the sick Mustafa, concerned about another person she loves so dearly, to finding out about Mehmed Celebi's tuberculosis at last and getting her spirits and hopes up for once, immediately rushing to SS (and even nodding to Ibrahim with a smile on the way) to see for herself whether it's actually true, is the wedding really canceled, to facing the bitter, harsh truth that SS will merely postpone it, fully believing that the marriage will make Hatice happy (on rewatch I genuinely cannot believe the amount of times Hatice hinted at not wanting to marry, with SS and Hafsa either brushing it off or taking it in the exact opposite way), to engulfing herself in this pain even harder as now she won't only lose the future she aches for but this marriage will also be a stark reminder of the reason why the very idea of that future overtook her in the first place: with Mehmed Celebi's sickness, she would relive her past trauma all over again, she would be fully trapped in a cycle of mysery that would forever repeat, with any consolation she seems to be getting being futile.

[That last part also brings me to the parallel rapport between Gülfem and Ayşe Hafsa throughout the episode that I absolutely love; from the little scene where Hafsa and Gülfem bond a bit over Hatice's pain after Valide reprimands Gülfem for asking is the wedding done for indeed, to the two parallel scenes where Hatice is comforted by Hafsa and Gülfem respectively, both cementing that they have a totally different understanding of said pain — Gülfem truly is all too familiar with what Hatice's going through, relating and differentiating it from her own past turmoil {she is all too aware of that sinking feeling of loss and "couldn't even tell the person she loved that she loves him" (which I believe indicates that she's been with Süleiman for a very short while before she lost her child, that she lost it all before it could even fully develop, which made her hurt all the heavier and even more fatal), something that Hatice also struggles with more metaphorically (she's made her feelings quite clear to Ibrahim himself, she can't let the world know about them), but she's also found solace in the people that took her under her wing, the people she's found after she thought she had nobody, the people that apparently will care if something happens to her, at least they should be worth it; and she advices Hatice to do the same.}, while Hafsa has realized that she isn't (E08, E09) and that the only thing she can do is assume and comfort her however she can (and after the tuberculosis matter came to the fore, she became uneasy and aimed to stop the wedding unlike Süleiman who wanted to continue it and thought merely about not rushing a decision as a padişah, ensuring only what he thinks is Hatice's wellbeing, never willing to see otherwise; Hafsa's first thought was Hatice and what would such a spouse mean for her, not hesitating to talk to Süleiman about that too, so while she doesn't have the full picture either, she can still get her better as a mother).]

[isa-beenme]

Hi! this is my first time asking but maybe you could do a co-workers and a one night stand for the Acotar bingo with azzy?? like they are both spies for rhys and something happens on a mission orrrr…. idk fluff please :))))

feel free to ignore - i love ur work btw <33

Oh my dear I definitely can

Thanks so much for the reassurance, I'm a people pleaser KEEP COMMENTING COMMENTS THEY ARE MY BIGGEST FUEELLLLLL

Me writing a normal fanfic: 😃

Me 5 seconds after I start creating a whole trauma, past story and a lot of facts that are not exactly necessary to the story: 🥰😍🤩😚💕💖💟💞🤗✨️

When I was writing this I thought: Omg maybe I'm finally ready to write smut (I'm not, the need completely disappeared from me the moment I opened the document)

Pillowtalk

As you and Azriel prepare for yet another mission together to watch the suspect camplords in the Illyrian mountains, you go over your plans meticulously, ensuring you are ready for whatever challenges lie ahead. You and Azriel have created a unique bond over the years, having worked together on numerous missions for the High Lord. Both of you knew how to work together and where your boundaries were laid. It was precisely that that made working with him so easy, no matter the amount of time you spent together, he never ever asked you to take off the mask that usually covered your face.

The journey to the Illyrian mountains is always filled with tension since you know how much Azriel hates his old home. You know you must be discreet to avoid detection. You and Azriel move silently, utilizing your stealth and his powers to blend into the shadows. You keep your senses sharp, alert to any potential danger.

However, even the most carefully laid plans can go awry. During your surveillance, you encounter an unexpected group of hostile Illyrian males who happened to be patrolling in that area. Azriel fights valiantly, but he is fighting against five of the seven that attacked you, and even if he defeats three of them, the other two remaining aim for his wings and cause a serious injury during the wings' leather, leaving him vulnerable and unable to defend himself adequately.

In a split second, you take your decision, and you know you must act swiftly to protect your partner. Without hesitation, you remove your mask, it helps you to maintain silence and prevents the enemies from hearing your breathing. But right now it is only making it difficult for vision to be clear, the fighting usually being Azriel's work.

As you take off the mask it reveals the burn mark that runs from your neck to a portion of your face. It serves as a reminder of a past event that you try to keep hidden from prying eyes. Also, it would work as an easy way for your enemies to recognize you anywhere you went. Even if they didn't remember your face, they would remember the scars, this being the only reason to keep your face a mystery during your missions.

Despite your reservations, you know very well that your identity is a small price to pay to save Azriel. Drawing upon all your strength, you fiercely fight off your remaining attackers, using your skills to ensure you both survive the ordeal.

After the dust settles and the danger has passed, Azriel looks at you with a mixture of awe and concern. He finally sees the face that you had kept concealed for so long. His gaze lingers on the burn mark, but he doesn't pry or ask questions. He knows that you have your reasons for keeping your identity a secret, and he respects your privacy in everything.

You quickly winnow yourself and him to a nearby cabin, paying an offensive amount of gold to the keeper for her to remain silent about your state there. She only nods once and takes you to the main room, running to take medical supplies for your partner.

-Do you need help? - She asks softly, but you can see her nervousness as she looks at the blood.

-No, I can take it from here. Thank you for everything - You dismiss her and she happily gets out of the room and closes the door behind her, leaving you to take care of Azriel's wings, which are already closing their wounds.

As Azriel recovers from his injuries, you stay by his side, tending to his wounds with care and cleaning them at one time or another. As you spend time together during his recuperation, he senses there is more to your burn mark than meets the eye. You can sense his eyes floating to your neck sometimes, but you let him be fully healed before saying anything.

-You know you can just ask, right? - You say as Azriel sits beside you as you look out the window.

-I hope I'm not prying or making you uncomfortable, but I couldn't help but notice your burn mark. It must have been a difficult experience - You take a deep breath, your fingers tracing the edge of the scar absentmindedly - You don't have to share if you don't want to-

-Yes, it was - You replied, your voice carrying a mix of pain and vulnerability - My parents... they weren't the kindest people. They made it clear that they didn't want me and that I was a burden to them - You notice Azriel tracing his own scars, you didn't even notice the moment he took off his gloves.

-I'm so sorry you had to go through that - He says sincerely, a mixture of sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

-When I was young, I believed that if I stayed close to them or if I tried harder, they might change their minds, and start loving me or something. But one day... One day, I was talking to my mother while she was cooking. I didn't realize I was annoying her until she got angry. The next thing I knew, the hot oil spilled on me, and she didn't even try to help, not her, not my father. I was left with this scar after that - You took a deep breath as you felt Azriel's gentle touch tracing the contours of the burn in your neck, a silent gesture of support as he listened intently - I was probably six, maybe seven. It didn't take me long to run away until I found a mercenary. He took me in and trained me. I was supposed to be a mercenary too if Rhysand didn't find me. He hired me after some time and gave my tutor a place to live in Velaris. That's my sad story - You said with a dry laugh, trying to keep the tears that threatened to escape from your eyes. Azriel's heart aches for the pain you endured, and he reaches out to gently touch your face, mirroring the care you showed him during his recovery.

-You are incredibly strong - He says sincerely - To survive such a difficult past and become the person you are now, it takes immense courage.

-And what about yours? We are basically burn buddies - He laughs at that, supporting his back on the window, looking deeply at you as you take his hand from your face and start to trace them - You don't have to tell me if you're not ready, too.

-No, I want to tell you - He replies, his voice steady - You've shared your pain with me, and it's only fair that I do the same. I was the bastard son of an Illyrian lord. For eleven years, I lived with my father, stepmother, and two older half-brothers. They were cruel and treated me like an outcast. They kept me in a cell with no windows or light, letting me out only for an hour a day to see my mother. I was forbidden to train or fly, even though my Illyrian instincts urged me to do so.

You bring your hand up to his arm, bringing him closer to your body as you circle him in a hug, feeling the tension disappearing from his body as he is visibly relaxed in your arms, embracing the warmth and comfort.

-One day, my half-brothers thought it would be fun to see what would happen if they mixed an Illyrian's quick healing gifts with fire. They poured oil on my hands and lit them on fire - Your eyes widened in surprise, not in a million years you would have imagined his story to be like this - The warriors heard my screams and rescued me, but it was too late to save my hands. I was left with these scars, a constant reminder of the cruelty I endured.

-I hope they are all dead - You said suddenly, your voice mixed with a tone you reserve for the ones you torture in the prison.

-One of them. And no, I won't tell you who they are just for you to kill them - He laughs when you ruff in annoyance - If so you would have to tell me who are your parents, so we can have a tie.

-Really? I would gladly do so - He laughs once again, the sound making your heart flutter in happiness. He takes a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

-At eleven, I was dumped in the Illyrian training camp, Windhaven, where I wasn't exactly well received due to my shadowsinging gifts. That's where I met Rhysand and Cassian. Rhysand's mother took me in, just as she did for Cassian. And when Rhysand became the High Lord of the Night Court, I became his spymaster, part of the Inner Circle.

-I'm so sorry for what you went through. But know that you are not defined by your past, it was a lesson it took me some time to understand. You are strong, compassionate, and resilient, a testament to the person you've become. And your scars, just like mine, tell a story of resilience and survival. We should be proud of the people we've become despite our pasts.

-Yes, we should. And I couldn't be prouder of what we've become - He gets out of your embrace, taking your hand in his, reveling in the feel.

-You're right. We make a great team, burn buddies, if so - You hear a chuckle and let your own laugh fill the room - I'm grateful for every mission we've shared, you know.

-I'm grateful too, more than words can say. You've shown me kindness, trust, and loyalty. You've helped me heal in ways I didn't think were possible - Azriel's other hand moved from his side to cup your cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

-And you've done the same for me. Your strength and understanding have been my anchor through it all - At that moment, you felt an unspoken connection that went beyond your shared experiences as spies. It was a bond forged through trust, support, and compassion.

As you trace gentle patterns on Azriel's hand, he gazes at you with affection and admiration. He can't help but be captivated by your strength and resilience, your ability to face your past head-on and still maintain a kind and caring heart. Something he couldn't do. His past hunted him as a monster, the shame he felt on his hands growing every time he looked at them. But you?

-You're incredible - He whispers, his voice barely above a breath. You looked up at him, shocked by his sudden words, but your eyes were shimmering with gratitude.

-And you're just as incredible - You reply with a smile playing on your lips - I always admired you. It was nice knowing you always chose me to go with you, it's also nice spending time with you.

-I always chose you because we make a great duo - You murmur "burn buddies" again, but he doesn't laugh this time, his eyes still admiring you. He turns his hand and entangles it with your - You're beautiful. You always told me that, and now I can say it back.

At that moment, the air around you feels charged with an undeniable attraction. You both sense it, the magnetic pull that draws you closer. Without another word, Azriel leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. Your lips move together in a dance of longing and desire, your emotions pouring into the embrace. The weight of your shared experiences, the understanding of each other's pain, and the warmth of your feelings culminate in this moment.

The kiss deepens, and you lose yourselves in each other, forgetting the world outside as you explore the depths of your needs. Azriel's hand gently cradles your face, his thumb caressing your scarred cheek, while your fingers find their way into his hair, pulling him closer.

Your bodies move closer in the window seat, the space between you disappearing as you seek comfort and intimacy in each other's arms. The tension that had been building between you for years finds its release, and you become lost in the sensation of being with someone who understands you on a level you never thought possible.

As you pull away, your breaths mingling, you meet each other's eyes, the intensity of the moment shining brightly. Without words, you share an unspoken understanding as he starts undoing the stripes and buttons of your armor and you start to take off the layers of his. Your lips connect again as he pulls you to his lap and walks you towards the bed, taking off the rest of your clothes as well as his.

Your heated make-out session evolves into a night filled with passion while you share your bodies, as you find the solace and belonging you've been searching for, a love that heals your wounds and ignites a fire within your hearts. When he looked at the rest of your scars, that went down until your shoulder and took a bit of your collarbone his eyes became feral with lust. From the moment he bent down and kissed each piece of skin that was covered with burn wounds, you knew that you are completely fucked.

After your initial heated encounter, you and Azriel decide that your night together was a product of vulnerability and a need for comfort in the moment. You both acknowledge the dangers of getting involved romantically, especially as spies working in a world filled with secrets and risks.

-We can't afford distractions - Azriel had once said, his voice tinged with concern - Our focus needs to be on the missions and keeping each other safe.

-You're right. We can't let our emotions get in the way of what we do - In that moment you had nodded in agreement, understanding the practicality of his words.

Both of you agree to keep your relationship strictly professional, even though your hearts yearn for more. However, as the days pass, you find it increasingly challenging to resist the pull you feel toward each other. Your missions become more dangerous, and the stakes are higher than ever. During chaos and uncertainty, you find comfort and solace in each other's arms.

It starts with small moments, a touch on the arm here, a lingering glance there. You become each other's safe haven, the one constant in a world filled with unpredictability. And despite your resolve, once you go back to your normal life in Velaris, you find yourselves in each other's bed again, seeking solace in the connection you share. The passion and intimacy between you intensifies with each encounter, and you start to realize that they can't deny the love that has grown between you.

As the days turn into weeks, you find yourselves entangled in each other more times than you could count, each encounter pulling you closer together. You've become inseparable in your free time, if it's you in his studio while he practices his painting, or if it's him in your house while you practice dancing, your lives become intertwined both on and off the field.

The morning sun gently filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room as Azriel stirs awake. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he finds himself lying beside you in your room once again, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He traces his fingers gently along the curves of your body, admiring the lines that define your form. The faint light reveals the outline of your burn mark, a testament to your strength and resilience. Azriel's heart swells with affection for you, knowing the hardships you have endured and the courage you carry within.

As his fingers gently explore, you stir from your slumber, your eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. You see the adoration in his eyes and the reverence with which he touches you. A blush tinges on your cheeks, but you don't look away, instead, you pull him closer, wanting to feel his touch even more.

-You're awake - You murmur, your voice soft but still rough from the slumber. Azriel leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead before he meets your eyes again.

-Yes, I am. And I can't help but marvel at the sight before me - Your heart flutters at his words, and you intertwine your fingers with him, pulling his hand to your lips to leave a tender kiss.

-You have a way with words, Shadowsinger. But actions speak louder - With a soft chuckle, Azriel leans in, capturing your lips in a deep and loving kiss. Your mouths move in perfect harmony, conveying all the unspoken emotions between you. When you finally break apart, your foreheads rest gently against each other's, your breaths mingling.

-I never expected this - You admit, your voice tinged with wonder - But I'm grateful for every moment we shared.

-As am I. You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine a future without you - You stay entwined, basking in each other's presence, knowing that you've found something rare and precious.

-What if we sleep in today? I don't think we need to get out of bed - He laughs and leans closer to you, the skin contact makes you shiver - I don't know, it's cold today, maybe we can help each other and warm ourselves up.

-I don't think Rhysand will appreciate it if his two best spies disappeared from his view - But he doesn't make a movement to get out of bed, instead, he starts kissing the back of your neck, slowly going under the covers. That way you know you win the discussion, the same way you did many times before.

Every time you find yourself in Azriel's arms, you feel like you can face the world, one day at a time, knowing that you have his heart to hold onto and a love that burns brighter than any shadow you've ever known. Years of shared missions, trust, and understanding have led you to this moment of realization. You are not just good together as partners, but you have discovered a deeper connection, a love born from empathy and shared experiences.

-Thank you - He comes up suddenly, interrupting his path to your legs - For being here, for understanding - With a soft smile, Azriel brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his voice tender as he speaks - I think we've found something extraordinary in each other.

-I believe you're right, shadow boy - You reply, before the smile completely disappears from your face - But this is not time to be sentimental. First, you eat your snack, and then we can talk about how much we love each other - You push his head under the covers again, hearing his laugh before his mouth finds its way to you.

That stupid promise of a one-time thing was nothing more than a futile attempt to deny the love that had grown between you. You couldn't fight it any longer, your hearts made the decision for yourselves a long time ago. You were partners - mates - in every sense of the word, bound not just by the missions, but by a love that has proven to be stronger than any obstacle in your path.

[wolfgirl-valentine]

Hob feels him before he hears him, just as he was relaxing with some of his friends, a weird feeling tickling in the back of his neck, something that has happened in the past and have saved his life more than one, he resisted the compulsion of turning back, so as to not alarm the others.

"Hob Gadling?" The voice, obviously using a modulator, makes the conversation halt.

"Uh? Yes that's me" finally turning around he can see the entity attached to the voice was covered from head to feet "can I help you?"

" I heard you can get anything or anyone to the Outer Rim…discreetly "

Hob frowned, before nodding " let's discuss this in private, see you later guys!" When they were at a safe distance he finally asked "you need to be more careful, that kind of question can attract the wrong kind of attention" 

"I will have it in consideration" they came to a stop in an empty alley

"Now, what do you need to be delivered?"

"I need to reach the Outer Rim, but I need to do it without the Empire knowledge "

This guy seriously don't seem to get what discreetly means.

"Ok, I can do that, it wouldn't be cheap tough, I also need to know if there are any bounties on you, I don't like surprises"

The stranger makes a sound that's probably of exasperation, is difficult to say with the mask and voice modulator, then he raises a hand, and the weird feeling at the back of Hobs head is back.

"You would take me to the Outer Rim, without asking questions" the audacity makes Hob snort

"Yeah…I don't work like that mate, I need to know what I'm getting into" the other tilt his head to the side, it remind Hob of a confused massiff 

"You can say I am being…politically persecuted…"

"Mmh…and do you have a name?"

"You may call me Dream"

"Right…and the destination? The Outer Rim is a very big place, or you just want to get out in general?"

"I will tell you when we are near to it "

Cryptic little shit.

"Look, if you came to me is because someone else send you to me, because I'm good at what I do, but  because I'm good, I need reassurance that I'm not helping a criminal get away, and honestly, you are anything but discreet, the voice modulator and the mask are basically screaming fugitive, and in this type of port everyone would know that" the other makes a little sound of distress at that " so don't treat me like an idiot, the only reason I can think for someone to want to go under the radar, is because the Empire is actively looking for you, so what are you? Someone that decided to try to fight back against them, or someone that committed a crime serious enough that they can't let it pass?" 

The stranger paused for a moment, and Hob can feel the intensity of his gaze through the mask lenses, before he sighed in defeat.

"I have underestimated you, and for that I offer an apology. You would call me Dream, for your safety more than mine. The Empire is searching for me, but not for nefarious reasons, I'm not lying when I said I'm being politically persecuted, but it is a little more complicated than that. I'm trying to get to someone in the Outer Rim, and for their safety I can't tell you much at the moment.

They stand in silence for a moment, looking at each other, Hob can't feel any deception now, just a lot of information missing, but he can work with that, he actually has worked with less.

"Alright, one more thing, are there active bounties on you?" 

*....Perhaps"

"Kriff…look I don't…"

"I will pay you two hundred thousand credits, half upfront" 

Hob stares speechless, it's a ridiculously high amount of money, to had that sum he must really be a politician from the former senate, that would explain the way he talks and his inability to be inconspicuous.

"I don't really like trouble…"

"Two thirds pay upfront"

"Alright! Alright…just…I need some time to prepare everything, meet me at bay 15 in an hour"

"Very well, I will be waiting for you Hob Gadling "

"Just Hob it's fine, I'll see you later, 'Dream' "

Hob watches him move towards the end of the alley, to the principal street were he get lost in the crowd, sighing as he makes a quick mental list of what he need for a journey of indefinite time Hob walks in the opposite direction.

"What you just get yourself into Hob…?"

_________________

More from my Star Wars AU!!! Their meet cute! As I said this wouldn’t be a linear narrative, I’ll post the scenes as they come to me, sometimes with art, sometime without. Also how do people achieve consistency when drawing characters, every time i do it their face always is different, anyways.

Previous post Here and Here

I don't think a knowledge of Star Wars lore is necessary, but for more information I’m focusing just in the movies and tv series(I’m not really well versed in the expanded universe lore, now called Legends), this is like 10 years after the Order 66, Hob spend 4 years as a Imperial Officer, he has a very low sensitivity to the Force, he thinks is like a 6th sense, that’s how he feels Morpheus (he is actually decent at not being noticed), when Morpheus tell him about not asking questions he is trying to use a Jedi skill of persuasion, strong minds are immune to it. The quantity of money he offers is high, I'm planning to explain later why he has access to so much cash.

Photos taken with my phone, English is not my first language.

If you like this and have ideas or questions I love talking to people and my Asks are always open :)

[rozonrozark]

I said a part of the next chapter so don't get to excited. That said I will give you a decent amount

Harpy watched the group of kwami leave with mixed feelings. She knew that she be happy for Plagg to get a chance to fix things up with Tikki but not having him with her made her nervous. However she couldn’t let that show, she couldn’t let any weakness show. Looking around at all the gathered people she felt a bit anxious at seeing everyone’s eyes on her.

Pushing back everything Harpy shifted to a confident stance while raising an eyebrow. “Is there something you wished to say to me?”

Misterbug opened his mouth to say something only to be trampled over as Majestia spoke over him. “Well, I believe that if we want to start right then it would be best to start with something important.” Floating up a bit to gather everyone’s attention the hero turned towards Puprle Tigress who froze under the hero’s look. “Somebody here has been playing double agent.”

“WHAT!/HOW!” Mouse and Misterbug shouted while Tigress had gone white as a sheet.

Harpy stayed quiet for a moment before sighing. “Fine, I suppose we can talk about that.” This got everyone to look at the girl with some shock.

“You knew?” Purple was the first to bring up the question.

“Yes, almost from the start.” Harpy replied back while giving the girl a flat look. This wasn’t due to any negative feelings regarding the other girl but more that if she let anything show or tried to change her expression then her mask would break. “No offense but your story had one too many holes in it.”

“Yeah, plus I guess I’m not the best actor.” Purple mumbled while looking down. It was obvious to everyone that the girl was down in the pits.

“No, no, you were very good.” Mouse attempted to reassure the girl.

“Plus you were very helpful.” Misterbug added on only to stop at a few looks shot his way. “Right, um, I’m sorry, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” The hero attempted to laugh at the situation only to fall at how awkward it was. Thankfully everyone turned towards Harpy a moment later. The girl didn’t speak for a moment until she shook her head.

“I don’t see a reason to continue this. Purple Tigress made a decision and whatever else has happened she has been a good ally and dedicated hero.” At Harpy’s words, Tigress perked up a little. “Unlike other people present.” Misterbug felt like the last jab was unneeded and let it pass over him.

“So the double agent was putting more work into being a hero than you?” Sparrow questioned while giving the Ladybug chosen a side-eye.

“Now, I’m sure he has very good reasons as to why he isn’t out patrolling as often as he would no doubt love to.” Longg surprised many by coming to the male hero's rescue. “However as it appears that this double agent business is not going to be a problem, at the moment, it would be best if we moved on to other topics.” Mouse looked like she wanted to argue the point but held back.

“I do agree with Longg.” Kaalki chipped in. “Perhaps we should move onto a different topic.” Pollen didn’t say anything but the yellow kwami stayed close to her to give her some comfort.

Once again Misterbug opened his mouth only to be once again overrun by the UH group. This time it was Uncanny who had taken the chance to approach the girl. “I would like to thank you for your help a while back.” The sidekick stopped approaching the girl though upon seeming to notice something.

“You did both us and America a great service that day.” Knightowl took over for the girl while walking to stand near them.

“I was just doing the right thing.” Harpie commented while her muscles tensed to run.

“My what a fantastic answer.” Majestia cheered with a smile on her face. “I can see why my daughter respects you so much.” 

“Yes, that event along with your deeds here in Paris have proven that you are indeed a true hero.” Knightowl’s voice carried approval and Harpie felt a bit of warmth in her chest. Misterbug stood to the side listening in to the conversation while a bit worried. This conversation was starting to sound like a recruitment pitch and the boy wasn’t sure sure if Paris could survive if the main hero of Paris left.

Shaking himself a bit Adrien forced his mind from selfish thoughts the boy took a breath. If the girl wanted to leave Paris and join the UH then that is her right. Still, he doubted that the girl would leave Paris. As has been pointed out many times Chesire, no matter what form she was in, was a true hero. Why had it taken him so long to realize this? It was so easy to work around in circles and convince himself that everything the girl did was evil. Those heavy thoughts weighed on his shoulders and caused them to droop a bit. Honestly, it wasn’t that much of a shock that everyone kept talking over him. They probably thought he had nothing important to say. Well, that was expected due to how his head felt with the fog coming back.

“Majestia, Knightowl.” Santa approached the two UH heroes while occasionally looking toward Harpie along with the other female heroes. “I believe that perhaps we should talk before you continue this conversation.”

Harpy watched this interaction with a blank mask but behind it, the girl was cursing and screaming. Was the man going to out her identity? Was this the entire plan? To put her identity in front of everyone, to show everyone just how pathetic she is? A firm press against her cheek had Harpie looking over to see Kaalki. The horse kwami locked eyes with the young girl. “I’ll keep watch of the conversation.”

With that, the kwami flew over to where the three adults had moved to. Misterbug watched this happen before turning to the girl who was now standing alone. Seeing a chance he took a few deep breaths and made to talk to the other hero. “Harpie.”

At the call, the current eagle user turned toward the young male. The girl narrowed her eyes while preparing for whatever Misterbug had planned only to fall short. Blinking for a moment Harpie narrowed her gaze again just to double-check. There surrounding the ladybug user was a purple almost rolling fog that seemed to be attached to the boy. For a moment she remembered last night when the boy had grabbed his head in pain. Was this cloud the cause? What was this cloud, and why was it visible only now that she was Harpie?

The green-eyed boy flinched under her gaze and faltered. After stopping he seemed to debate with himself before remeeting her eyes. “I want to start this-” Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as the fog condense around Misterbug. With interest Harpie watched Misterbug rub his head.

“Are you alright?” Harpie was almost shocked at realizing that she had walked toward the boy along with asking her question.

“I, I just want to say-” Again the boy almost seemed to coil in on himself with a groan as the fog condensed around him.

“Hey, are you alright bug?” Mouse questioned with almost no concern only confusion in her voice.

“What is going on?” Misterbug questioned while rubbing his head.

“Built-up guilt coming to the surface?” Sparrow proposed with a bit of humor.

“I, I-” Again the green-eyed boy tried to say something only to let out another groan. Harpie watched the fog almost seeming to choke the boy who was almost doubled over in pain. The eagle user could not understand what was going on at all. What was with this fog? What was the fog? How is it hurting the boy in front of her?

“Harpie, something is not right here.” Longg whispered to her before flying forward to check the boy. “If you are not feeling well you could do this another day.” The dragon kwami proposed with a bit of concern. Pollen also came out of hidding and was quick to try to help the suffering boy.

“No, I need to-” With that the boy fully fell on his hands and knees. Harpie was on him in an instant with her hand reaching for the boy. The fog was almost tangible to her hand. 

“I don’t think he is faking this,” Uncanny informed the other three while studying the boy with interest.

“Harpie you should keep your distance from Misterbug.” Sparrow commented while approaching.

“Wh- what is going on?” The male hero questioned while trying to ease the pain in his head. Majestia, Knightowl, and Santa finally seemed to notice what was going on. As the voices started flooding in Harpie tuned them out so she could at least try and focus on whatever this fog was. Tuning her senses more to the eagle miraculous Harpie attempted to figure out what the heck was going on. While focusing on the insticts of the Eagle she noticed something nearby. Something coming in quickly. “Everyone run!” After shouting the warning the girl followed her insticts.

~~~~~~~

Plagg was hurrying as quick as he could back to the meeting point. While Bread had other kwami with her incase something went wrong the black kwami had a sinking worry about just what Fate would do to prevent a peaceful resolution. As he flew over the ledge of the building all of his worst fears were confirmed as he spotted missles fly right toward the roof where the meeting was being held. Not even a second later a loud explosion was heard as the area exploded.

A loud horrified gasp was heard as Tikki arrived. The red kwami attempted to say her chossens name only for bubles to come out. Thankfully Sass and Wayzz were more focused so they were able to spot something. “I see them!” The turtle called out while pointing to a smoke trail.

Not wasting another second Plagg shot toward where the trail was decending. Tikki was right beside him proublably just as worried. The two descended and found Harpie holding Tikki’s chossen in a protective hold. The girl looked up and instantly locked onto Plagg.

“Oh, my poor bug!” Tikki cried as she flew to the boy who was curled up in the girl’s hold. The red goddess could also see Longg clinging onto the boy.

“Tikki?” The blond boy muttered pained.

“Plagg, your here!” Harpie called out in relief.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Plagg reassured her while slowly blinking.

“What isss wrong with the young guardian?” Sass questioned while studying the blonde.

“Huh?” The black hawk blinked before turning and giving a surprised blink toward the other three kwami. “Oh, Sass your back, and you two must be Tikki along with Wayzz! It is very nice to meet you properly!” 

Tikki blinked at the girl who only now seemed to realize that they were there. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Plagg give out a sigh while shaking his head. “Yes, it is very nice to meet you.” Wayzz calmly greeted the cat user, or was she chosen? Plagg did seem rather attached to the girl. “Could you please inform us about what is wrong with Misterbug?”

“Can you not see the cloud around him?” Harpie questioned while looking down at the boy who was trying to talk. The grey-eyed girl’s statement drew a round of confused looks from the kwami. “There is some type of cloud surrounding Misterbug and is harming him.”

Tikki gasped and turned to look at the other kwami who all seemed to realize that somehow the fog she was seeing was the universes attempt at seperating the Order from working with the cat. “Oh my poor bug.” The red kwami flew down to her chosen landing near Longg.

“My queen can you effect the fog?” Pollen questioned the eagle user from her hair. Harpie placed him down the boy before focusing on her powers. She could feel the power coursing through her body. The power was diffrent than Plagg’s plus she couldn’t as easily feel it like with Plagg. Was that due to her bond not being as strong or her not knowing the kwami for as long? Either way the truth was clear.

“No, whatever this power is it is too strong for me to affect.” 

“That is to be expected.” Longg muttered with a shake of her head. Harpie heard the dissapointment from the dragon kwami and frowned. Was there really nothing she could do? An idea nagged at the back of her head but the girl didn’t fully entertain the idea due to how it went last time.

“I’m sorry Tikki.” Plagg called out to the sorrowful black spotted kwami. Blinking at her kwami the young girl watched the kwami and saw that the cat was truely upset. The idea that at first was rejected took root and started to form itself. However before more could be done the group started to hear the sound of combat.

“We need to get somewhere safe.” Harpie decided and was quick to pick up the boy along with the two kwami who were resting on him. Turning to look at the other kwami she saw them hovering nearby. “Do you want a lift?” With that question the others were quick to land on either her or the boy. With that the girl headed to where she knew an empty building was nearby. Rushing forward the girl took a chance to glance at Plagg who had landed on her shoulder. “Hey Plagg, you really want to help Tikki right?”

“Of course!” Plagg exclaimed before glancing down at the boy. “Do you think my power can do anything though?” Harpie kept quiet so as to not give away what she was thinking. “Bread?” Ignoring the concerned kwami the girl shifted a bit so she could safly land in the building. Landing carefully the girl put down the boy who seemed to be getting worse. “Bread?” Again Plagg pressed with more concern.

“Don’t worry Plagg this should help Tikki’s bug.” Harpie reassured the kwami to which she owed so much. Honstly the hero was glad she could at least make an effort to repay him if even a little. “Plagg, Lirri, UNIFY!”

Trick or treat!

Hmm, bit late on my part so I’ll let you decide. I could give you a part of the next Cheshire chapter or I will answer one question. You decide

[raewritez]

take care of you

summary: Your worry about the future and are used to taking care of your friends. Luckily, Zuko is there to take care of you.

a/n: i don’t realllyyy ship Zutara but one of the aspects i love about their relationship is that Zuko is virtually the only person that Katara doesn’t have to act as a mother to, so I was largely inspired by that dynamic.

requested?: nope!

—————

Your fingers ran shakily through your hair, air escaping your lips in uneven breaths. You shut the heavy door behind you, coming to sit upon the air temple’s sturdy bed that rested in the center of your given bedroom. You had been fine until a few minutes ago, you had been enjoying the crispness of the air and warmth of the sun until the words of quiet voices had floated to your ears. Whispers of Aang and his destiny, of death and murder and war. The other people, they expected Aang to be able to kill the Firelord just like that, to abandon his childhood and sense of self in a split moment of violence. You knew he couldn’t do that, you loved him like a brother and if there was one thing you knew for sure it was that Aang’s heart of gold was impenetrable. You had glanced down to wear he stood with Zuko, arms raised in an aggressive stance, the fire that spouted from his palms betraying his lighthearted nature. The image had left you breathless, your protective side alighted against the cruel expectations of this twelve-year-old boy, of your dear friend.

You were upset, and you knew there was nothing you could do about it. Killing the Firelord was Aang’s destiny, and it couldn’t be altered by simple adoration or protectiveness. It shouldn’t be Aang, the weight of the world shouldn’t fall on the back of this war-born child, but it was. Your head rested in your hands, mind swimming with attempts to ward off images of death and fire and the ideas of fate and destiny. You felt silly being so affected by the muttered words of children while your friends were out there training and fighting their own battles. You were disrupted from your emotional state by the creaking of a door and the appearance of a shaggy head of black hair.

You lifted your head, plastering on a smile. “Hey, Zuko. What’s up?”

He stepped in quietly, closing the door behind him. “Hey, Y/n, I just...” his eyes darted between the walls, his hand raising to rake through his hair. “Well, I saw you leaving, and you seemed upset. So I thought I would just...come check on you.”

A genuine grin made its way to your face, worries muted and heart softened at the boy’s thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Zuko. That’s nice of you. You don’t need to worry about me, though, I just...got a little upset is all.”

His amber eyes flashed with concern, and you questioned why he cared so much for how you were feeling. You certainly cared about him, caring about people was basically your job after all, acting as the protector of the group and the only one that Katara would allow to take care of her. You cared for him, truthfully maybe more than you should, but you weren’t aware of the extent of his care for you. 

His feet brought him closer, seating himself before you at the edge of the bed. “Why are you upset?” he questioned, sincerity pouring from his voice. “Did someone do something? Or did something happen? If it did, I can-”

“Nothing happened, Zuko,” you cut him off, lifting your fingers to shyly play with the strands of your hair. “Nothing happened, really, it’s just...” he gazed at you with imploring eyes. You sighed. “It’s just that I’m upset about everything going on, all the stuff with Aang and what he has to do, and it’s stupid. I shouldn’t be upset, I mean, I’m obviously used to everything by now, but...I’m just worried about him.”

He searched his mind, he was never good at comforting people. You were always good at that, always listening to him and reassuring him in ways no-one had ever managed to. He wanted to repay the favor, to make you happy like you made him, but he didn’t possess the talent of assurance and comfort. Instead, with a certain boldness to his movement, he grasped your hand from its place in your hair with his own. 

“He’ll be okay, Y/n. He's a talented kid,” his thumb stoked your knuckles. “The comet is weeks away and he’ll be ready. He’ll be ready.”

Your eyes were glued to the spot his hand met yours, unable to focus on anything but the heat emanating from his palm. You nodded softly with appreciation, lifting your fingers to reciprocate his caring touch. Your lips parted and you found it difficult to breathe, your stomach and lungs occupied by swarms of butterflies. Your eyes met his, and you found yourself captivated by the intensity in his stare.

You stayed locked in that position, his eyes glued to yours and your hands interlocked. He lifted your arm, playing with your fingers and pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “You worry too much.”

You ignored the blush rising to your cheeks. “I think I worry just the right amount. Someone has to.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to. Someone needs to take care of you every once in a while.” 

“Oh yeah?” you questioned breathlessly. “Like who?”

His eyes met yours and you could’ve sworn you saw him lean forward before the silence was broken by knocking against your door.

“Y/n! Sokka screwed up dinner and we need your help before Katara kills us.”

You recognized Toph’s voice and pulled out of Zuko’s grasp.

“Sounds serious,” you chuckled. “I’ll be right there.”

“Mkay!”

You sighed softly, averting your gaze from Zuko’s as awkward silence filled the atmosphere. “I should probably go help them.”

He nodded, masking his slight disappointment as he rose to allow you an exit. Your shoulder brushed his as you passed, and the two of you ignored the electricity as you emerged from the confines of the small room.

///

“Appa, yip yip!”

The smell of charred wood filled the air, fire flinging past your face as the soldiers advanced. Aang was lifting off, fleeing the onslaught of flames as you crumbled the earth surrounding the men to allow them an escape.

He glanced back, alarm filling his face at the sight of you. “Y/n, come on!” he yelled, looking at you with worry.

You grunted as you threw rock after rock at your persecutors. “It’s ok, Aang, just go! I’ll be fine!”

“What?! No! Y/n, just-” he cut himself off as a figure dressed in red jumped from Appa, landing on the edge of the cliffside.

“Get out of here, Aang,” Zuko spoke. “I’ll take care of her.”

Aang glanced back in worry before yanking Appa’s reigns and flying off the other way.

Zuko turned, running towards you as you fended off the soldiers with concaving ground and heavy boulders. He intercepted the fire of the remaining men, channeling it and striking towards them. As they stumbled back from the impact Zuko grabbed your arm and sped into the refuge of the forest, shielding your body from possible incoming attacks.

He pulled you along through the winding trees, twigs snapping under your feet as you did your best to catch your breath. When he slowed down you lifted your eyes to find the entrance of a small cave nestled between the rocks. 

“Guess this is home for the night.” Zuko tilted his head to glance at you, taking note of your furrowed brows and flushed face. “You ok?”

You quickly nodded your head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for coming back.”

“I wouldn’t leave you behind,” he smiled.

You looked at him gratefully before raising your arms to maneuver the stone around the entrance of the cave. Once the hole was deemed large enough the two of you crawled inside, Zuko’s hands protectively supporting your waist as go ensure you wouldn’t fall.

The inside was dreary, uneven walls forming to shelter the small patch of ground while the light of the sun was blocked out as you ventured further. Your feet ached, legs bruised and hair messed from the abrupt attacks. Zuko kept sneaking glances, worried by the tiredness of your movement and the absence of your usual optimism and cheerfulness. You made your way over to the edge of the cave, sitting down and resting your back against the sturdy wall. Zuko crept over beside you, lowering himself close to your body and staring warily at the cave’s entrance. 

You picked at your nails. “Do you think they’ll be ok?”

He snapped towards you in disbelief. You were seriously worried about that right now? “They’ll be fine, Y/n. They’re long gone by now and Aang will be back for us in the morning.”

You agreed hesitantly before leaning your head against the wall. You peered through the hole of the cave, catching sight of the sky beginning to fade to reds and purples. “Maybe we should get some sleep. If the soldiers come back we’ll need our energy.”

Zuko nodded, moving to lie down while putting a respectable amount of space between the two of you. You drifted off to the sound of Zuko’s even breathing and the warmth that was carried from his body to yours.

///

You jolted awake to wind swirling inside the cave, the coldness piercing your skin like a knife. Your lips were tinted blue, the tips of your fingers aching and nose freezing to the touch. You pushed yourself off the hard ground, lifting your knees to your chest and curling in on yourself. Zuko was beside you, sleeping peacefully, seemingly unbothered by the chilliness of the night.

You stood up, walking around in attempt to warm yourself up and find a more sheltered part of the tiny cave. Zuko woke up to your shuffling, bleary eyes latching onto your shivering figure.

“Y/n?” he questioned in a raspy voice. “What's going on?”

“Oh, sorry Zuko,” you said sheepishly. “It’s just a little chilly.”

He assumed a pensive demeanor, eyes shifting mindfully before speaking.

“Come here.”

“What?”

“You’re cold and I can warm you up. Come here.”

You made your way awkwardly over to him, trying to ignore the blush that rose to your face at his implication.

You sat down next to him, sitting in silence before his arm hesitantly wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you closer. You sighed, he did feel warm. You subconsciously nuzzled closer to the sanctuary of your friend’s embrace until minutes later you were practically on top of him. You rested comfortably against his torso, his lean arms cradling you to his chest.

He breathed into your hair, careful not to accidentally light it on fire with his nervousness. He closed his eyes, relishing in your presence.

“Thanks, Zuko,” you whispered.

He smiled. “No problem.”

You raised your head to look at him, unsaid words lingering on your tongue. He stared at you questioningly as you searched for your voice, becoming distracted by the way your eyelashes danced across your cheeks and your lip was pulled between your teeth. 

“What is it?”

You swallowed. “It’s nothing...never mind.”

He raised an eyebrow, slowly linking his fingers with yours. “You can tell me, if you want to.”

“I know I can, but it’s silly. I’m just thinking too much.”

He lifted your hand, fingers tracing over the scars and lines, thumb stroking fondly against your skin. “If it’s about the group, they’re fine. They know what they're doing, and they can take care of themselves.”

You chuckled. “Most of them. I don’t know about Sokka though. He needed help rolling up his sleeping bag this morning.”

Zuko laughed lightly, reaching to brush away the hair that had fallen into your face. “Yeah, maybe not Sokka. But Katara’ll keep him in line. You can take a break from taking care of them...” he trailed off, amber eyes moving to yours. “Just let me take care of you for now.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken at his gaze, skin set alight by the way his fingers traced over it. He held nothing but sincerity and tenderness in his voice, and his eyes conveyed a deep fondness. You couldn’t help it when your eyes trailed to the curve of his nose, the splashes of freckles, and down to his lips. He raised your hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. In a burst of courage you moved your palm to cup his cheek, fingertips ghosting against the rugged edge of his scar. 

His own eyes felt heavy, pulled down by some magnetic force that drew him closer to you. At your caring touch, he moved his hand to the back of your neck and tilted your chin towards his. His lips met yours, eyelids slipping closed as you moved your own against his. He pulled you impossibly closer, handling you with such gentleness and affection that you wondered if you would implode. You ran your fingers through his hair, the soft stands filtering through them like water. He grasped your hips, lifting his mouth to meet yours in a seemingly never-ending heavenly embrace. You broke apart with a smile, the long-overdue kiss lightening your heart and sending butterflies through your stomach.

He grinned against you, stroking his thumb against your cheek before pulling your head to nestle in the crook of his neck. He breathed into your hair, pressing  his lips against the crown of your head. He nuzzled into you, his hair tickling your face as you felt yourself surrounded by him. You felt reassured, your friends would be fine and you felt relieved by the fact that you didn’t really need to worry about Zuko. He would take care of you, after all.

[viastro]

pacman | yoon jeonghan

ミ★ synopsis: being best friends, you and jeonghan know all there is to the disastrous effects of developing feelings for each other. that’s why you both make a sleep-deprived promise at 5 am to never fall in love with the other. however, jeonghan begins to question everything when he tasks himself with making you and the new transfer become a couple.

ミ★ genre: best friends / to strangers / to lovers!au, angst, fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: none !

ミ★ word count: 7,559

ミ★ pairings: jeonghan x gender neutral reader / jun x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! here’s my jeonghan oneshot that was inspired by jaehyun’s upcoming kdrama ! it took me a few days to finish this, so it’s pretty long and i would like to apologize in advance AJSKBGKB i also recommend listening to stay here by gaho on repeat for like top tier reading experience HAHAHA i hope you guys enjoy this oneshot, and remember to give jeonghan lots of love <3

Your eyes are closed as your head rests on the table, waiting for the lecture to begin. Your airpods are in your ears, playing a soft instrumental that has you on the verge of drifting off to sleep. 

Until Jeonghan sits beside you.

“I thought you slept early last night?” Instead of hearing the piano, you hear your best friend’s voice fill your ears as you open up one eye. The newly dyed redhead is staring at you with an amused expression on his face, causing you to squint at him. 

“Yeah, 2 am this time. Personal best for the year so far.” You tell Jeonghan, sitting up from the desk and stretching your arms over your head. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, knowing that is a lot earlier than the usual 6 am bedtime routine you’ve got going on. He sits down in the seat beside you, pulling out his things from his bag. 

Yoon Jeonghan, your best friend of almost eight years now. The two of you met in middle school, having been paired up in science class to dissect a frog. Jeonghan was close to tears the whole time while you were practically gagging over the smell through your mask. 

Someway, somehow, the two of you ended up sticking together after that unfortunate occurrence. No words were exchanged either, you both kind of just started sitting beside each other during lunch and waiting for each other at your assigned lockers. 

In high school it got annoying, as Jeonghan suddenly started to become... pretty. He grew taller, cut his hair short, and had a smirk that made anyone and anything swoon. Well, everyone except you. It got worse when you both entered university, as Jeonghan is continuing to become prettier by the minute. 

You can’t count on your hand how many times someone was jealous of how close the two of you were. 

However, the two of you made a vow after watching one too many kdramas with the trope of best friends to strangers due to one of them falling in love. It might be a bit drastic, and it was in the wee hours of the morning when the two of you made this oath so who knows if Jeonghan remembers. You don’t even remember most of what you both agreed upon other than the fact that the two of you can’t fall in love.

“Hannie, our friendship is too precious to end like theirs did!” You say through your tears, with Jeonghan pulling out a bunch of tissues to throw at your face. He nods his head in agreement, running a hand through his black hair as he fights back his own tears, only to pause and turn towards you.

“You think I’d like you?” Jeonghan asks with a look of disgust on his face, making you halt your movements, looking at him with a glare. “Hey!” 

“I’m teasing you.” Jeonghan says with a laugh, taking one of the tissues he threw at your face and wiping the snot that’s slipped past your nose from crying. You quietly let him, too tired and sad to tell him how gross that is. 

“We gotta stop binging kdramas until 5 in the morning.” Your best friend tells you, and you nod your head silently as you stare into his pretty eyes. He lets out a yawn once he’s done wiping away your tears, turning off your TV and placing the remote on the table. 

“Come on, lay down, yn.” You don’t move from your position on the couch, still huddled into the corner as you think of what could happen if one of you ever developed feelings for each other. 

A small smile forms on Jeonghan’s face at how deep in thought you are, reaching out and patting the top of your head. You look up at Jeonghan, and he tilts his head at you. 

“What’s up? I’m trying to tuck you in and you’re staring off as if you’re going through an existential crisis.” You purse your lips at his observation, wondering if you are having an existential crisis. Jeonghan sits back down beside you, and he rests his head on his hand as he turns his body towards you. 

“Let’s make a vow.” You say after a moment of silence passes between the two of you. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, “What kind of vow?” 

You turn your body towards his, fixing the blankets on your lap before finally looking into his eyes again. You find Jeonghan’s eyes to be his prettiest feature, as you can always see what he’s feeling through his gaze. It’s how you’re able to tell when he’s lying. 

“A vow for us to never fall in love with each other.” You state, and you watch as mirth pools Jeonghan’s eyes while his lips curve up into an amused smile. “I don’t think we can make a vow on something that’s out of our control.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, and Jeonghan watches as your eyes brighten when another idea comes to mind. He’s a bit taken aback when you suddenly reach out and grasp his hand, holding it tightly between your warm ones.

“Then we make a promise.”

“That’s the same thing as a vow-”

“No, shut up. Let me explain.” You say, and Jeonghan chuckles. He motions with his hand for you to go on, and you let out a breath.

“If one of us catches feelings, then we end our friendship.” Jeonghan stares at you with a serious expression on his face, and you find that you’re afraid at how fast the amusement left his eyes. Jeonghan leans in closer towards you, “You’d want to end our friendship just like that?” 

“Nono! I mean like, for a certain amount of time. Essentially we’d just ghost each other until our feelings go away, and the other can’t intervene.” You explain, slightly shoving Jeonghan away, but you see that he still looks a bit put off by your idea. 

“I’d feel like ass if you just left without a word, though.” Jeonghan tells you, and you slowly nod your head, understanding where he’s coming from. You let out another sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

“Pacman.” You peek at Jeonghan, wondering why he mentioned your guys’ favorite game when you were children. He gives you a tired smile, “It’ll be our code word. Instead of leaving without a trace for a couple months, or confessing our feelings and then leaving, we can just say Pacman. It’s not directly saying I love you, and who knows if either of us will remember the word. It’s the perfect thing to say before disappearing for a bit.” 

You slowly nod your head, finding that it seems like the best option thus far. And so, out of your 5 am fatigue, you hold out your pinky towards your best friend. 

“Pinky promise that you won’t fall in love with me.” You mutter sleepily, and Jeonghan chuckles, reaching out and intertwining his pinky with yours. 

“I pinky promise that I won’t fall in love with you.” Jeonghan responds softly, pressing his thumb against yours, sealing the promise.

And now here you both are, still going strong after that sleep-deprived promise you made when you two were barely 16 years old. 

You let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand while Jeonghan scrolls through his phone to try and show you the meme he saw earlier. Only for you to pause your movements when someone enters the auditorium.

“Look, I found it.” Jeonghan says happily, about to hold out his phone towards you, only to pause, seeing that you’re distracted. He turns his head in the direction of your awed state, only to find a handsome guy standing at the doorway, looking for a seat. 

Jeonghan slowly turns back towards you, finding you still staring at the man. He’s never seen this expression on your face before when you looked at someone else, but he knows this look. And so, he lets out a grin, before standing up from his seat and walking down the steps. 

Your eyes widen when you suddenly see Jeonghan’s red hair flash before your eyes, and you internally scream when you watch him walk up and bow to the incredibly pretty man.

“Hi! I’m Yoon Jeonghan.” This seems to startle the guy, but his eyes almost immediately turn up into an eye smile as he bows back in Jeonghan’s direction. 

“Hi, I’m Wen Junhui.” Jeonghan grins back, before motioning over towards where you and him are seated. 

“Oh God.” You mutter to yourself when the pretty man looks up at you, causing you to look down at your phone and check to see if you look at least half decent. You internally scream when you look back up to see him and Jeonghan walking up the steps, and you would’ve flipped Jeonghan off if it weren’t for the pretty guy looking at you. 

“Yn! This is Wen Junhui, he’s a transfer.” Jun smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back at him, warmth flooding your chest at the precious sight. “Hi yn, you can call me Jun.” 

You nod your head, “Hi Jun, let Jeonghan and I know if you ever need any help!” 

He sits down in the seat besides Jeonghan and bends down to take out the things from his bag, giving you enough time to quickly smack the back of Jeonghan’s neck. He squeaks, turning and shooting you a glare, only to stop and give Jun a reassuring smile when the pretty transfer looks at him in concern.

“Are you okay?” 

Jeonghan nods his head, giving Jun a thumbs up. He glances towards you once more when Jun goes back to preparing his seat, only to find the slight sparkle to your eye as you stare at the transfer student. Jeonghan slowly looks away, knowing exactly what that sparkle will signify in the future. 

Jeonghan walks towards the square with both airpods in, hands holding heat packs in the pockets of his coat to keep warm. He notices you sitting on the bench, bundled up in your large jacket as you wait for him, causing a small smile to form on Jeonghan’s face. 

He’s about to call out your name, only to halt his movements when he sees Junhui heading the opposite way. Jeonghan looks between the two of you, knowing that you have a raging crush on the pretty man but won’t initiate anything, and that Junhui might possibly be interested in you as well.

It’s been a month since Jun transferred to Seoul National University, and Jeonghan’s slowly been trying to push the two of you together. However, he does it so that it’s not too obvious for the sake of him not getting yelled at by you.

When you yell, you yell for a long time. 

And so, being the kind friend that Jeonghan is, he quickly walks unnoticed past you, and places both hands on Jun’s shoulders without a noise of greeting. This promptly startles the transfer student, considering the brief look of fear on Jun’s face, only for it to morph into a smile when he looks into Jeonghan’s eyes.

“Jeonghan!” 

“Jun! Are you done with your lectures today?” Jun nods his head in response, and Jeonghan grins at his answer. He turns and points towards you, making Jun peek over his shoulder to see you practically shaped like an onigiri, with your shoulders to your chest and your large winter jacket wrapped around you. “Yn and I were just about to go and get lunch, wanna join?” 

Jeonghan notices Jun’s eyes become a bit brighter when he looks at you, before he turns back to look at him and runs a hand through his hair. “That sounds great! I’m starving.” 

Jeonghan nods his head, before turning towards you and calling out your name. You glance up at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, looking over to find him and Jun standing a few feet away from you with small smiles on their faces. You shoot your best friend a look, and his smile simply grows wider as you stand up from the bench and walk over to the two. 

“Jun! Are you joining us for lunch today?” You ask when you make it over to them, secretly slapping Jeonghan’s side for being a goddamn whore. Jun smiles and nods his head while Jeonghan inconspicuously rubs his waist to ease the sting from your smack. 

“Where do you guys wanna eat?” Jun asks as the three of you begin walking out of the square. You think to yourself for a moment while Jeonghan stays quiet, letting you decide on where the gang will have lunch. You let out a grin when you finally think of where to eat, glancing at the two before saying, “Thai food!” 

Jeonghan and Jun nod their heads in agreement, and you celebrate quietly between the two. You squeeze the heat packs in your pockets when Jun turns and looks at you, causing you to look back at him. 

“What do you usually order at Thai restaurants?” You purse your lips at Jun’s question, fighting back the warmth from rushing to your face at the way he’s staring at you with so much interest. “It depends on my mood, to be honest.” 

“Wanna order for me when we get there then? I’m not sure what to eat.” 

“Horrible idea. What if I choose something you don’t like?”

“Then I’ll keep eating it, yn.” 

“Jun!” 

Jeonghan watches as you and Jun unconsciously walk faster until the two of you are now ahead of him. You are in your own little world as you bicker, but Jeonghan knows there’s no malice in your guys’ argument with the way you’re both smiling brightly at each other. 

You pause when you don’t feel that familiar presence beside you, and you turn your head to find Jeonghan standing a bit far behind you and Jun. You squint at your best friend, before pulling your hand out of your pocket and waving him over.

“Hannie! What are you waiting for? Come here!”

Jeonghan tightly squeezes the heat pack in his pockets, before nodding his head and walking a bit faster to catch up to you guys. It’s only when he’s standing right beside you that the three of you begin heading towards the Thai restaurant again.

As the frigid temperatures hit him, Jeonghan’s left wondering why the heat packs no longer offer him any warmth as he watches you laugh with Jun.

Jeonghan sits beside you on your couch, invested in the new episode of the kdrama the two of you have been keeping up with. He turns his head when your phone lights up, and his eyes land on the contact name.

jun <3

“You got a text from Junnie.” Jeonghan says, taking a piece of popcorn and placing it into his mouth. You look away from the TV, picking up your phone and reading the message. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeonghan watches the dopey smile form on your face as your thumbs type out a text to your crush.

Suddenly the popcorn feels a bit too dry to swallow as Jeonghan reaches over to take a sip of water. It only goes down smoothly when you place your phone back down on the couch and adjust the blankets over you and Jeonghan. 

“I love when the main actress stands up for herself.” You mutter, taking a few pieces of popcorn and tossing them into your mouth. Jeonghan nods his head in agreement, watching as the female lead starts cursing back at the man. 

“There’s just something so satisfying about women proving that they don’t need a man to protect them. They need to show this more in kdramas, break the stereotype, ya know?” Jeonghan adds, and you smile softly, pride swelling in your heart at the simple sentence. He turns his head and catches sight of your soft smile, and he feels the undeniable feeling of warmth from the beauty of it. 

A sudden bright light makes him glance down at the blankets, finding that your phone has lit up again. You notice as well, picking up the cool metal and reading the new text from Jun. Jeonghan watches as your mouth drops open and how you immediately stand up from the couch. 

“Did something happen?” Jeonghan asks, only for your phone to be shoved directly into his face. The redhead curses quietly, muttering about how you need to update your phone to be able to turn on dark mode, before reading the message on the screen.

“He asked me on a date! Me! Wait, is it a date? What should I say?! What if he didn’t mean to send me that text?? Oh my God, I’m so nervous I could actually pee my pants.” You ramble, and Jeonghan’s eyes slowly trail up to your face, watching as you mumble to yourself and begin to pace around the small living room. He bites the inside of his cheek, before grabbing your phone out of your hands and typing out a message. Your eyes widen when you watch your best friend’s thumbs move swiftly across your screen.

“Wait, Yoon Jeonghan!” 

“There.” Jeonghan states, handing you back your phone. You stare at the screen in silence.

jun <3: i was wondering if you wanted to go to the aquarium together on saturday? I remembered when you told me how you’ve never been, and the aquarium is having a christmas special even tho it’s november :3

It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna go by the way

you: that sounds great ! i can’t wait <3

jun <3: yay! I’ll pick you up at around 4 on saturday ~

Jeonghan watches as your eyes slowly trail up towards his face, and he wonders whether you’re gonna choke him or scream at him. Or both.

Jeonghan thinks it’s both.

It comes to his surprise when you instead wrap your arms around his frame, squeezing him tightly. Jeonghan slowly reciprocates the hug, cradling your head in his hand like he always does. 

“Thank you, Hannie.” You mumble, and Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek at the softness to your voice. He lets out a smile, nodding his head, “Of course, yn. Anything for you.” 

“Did you know that you smell good?” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at the random question, and the rumble of his chest from laughter makes you giggle in response, squeezing him tighter. 

“Really? What do I smell like?” 

You purse your lips in thought, before letting out a deep sigh. You close your eyes as you quietly say, “You smell delicate, it reminds me of Spring.”

Jeonghan’s heart thumps against his chest as he pats your head, “How can I smell like a season?”

“I don’t know. You just do.”

You pull away from the hug to flash Jeonghan a bright smile, and you watch as his features brighten at the sight. You rub the back of your neck, about to sit back down to finish the drama, only to pause when you realize something. 

“Jeonghan!” 

“Yn!” 

“I have to choose an outfit for Saturday! Oh my GOD!” You sprint out of the living room and to your bedroom, while Jeonghan remains in the living room. He listens to the sound of your screeches, and the chaotic noises of clothes being pulled out of your closet. 

“Hannie, come help! I’m not that stylish!”

Jeonghan bites his bottom lip, turning to look at the long forgotten drama. He lets out a sigh, bending down and picking up the remote, turning off the TV. The screen turns black, leaving him to stare at his reflection in the monitor. 

It’s as if Jeonghan is having a staring contest with himself as he stares at the TV monitor, thinking of the answer to a question that he’s not willing to ever admit. He only looks away when he hears the call of his name, pursing his lips at the thoughts he was thinking. 

Jeonghan pushes everything in his brain away, letting out a small smile when you walk out of your room with your head stuck in a hanger. You scratch the top of your head, confused as to how you even managed to fit your head through the small space. 

“Please help.” You say, and Jeonghan chuckles, nodding his head and walking over towards your room. 

“Should I ask how you even managed to get your head through the hanger?” 

“No.”

“Good, because I didn’t plan out how I’d react if you told me about it.” 

Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair as he looks out the window of his apartment, seeing the grand view of the city of Seoul at night. He tilts his head at the sight of a few fireworks shooting up into the sky, even though there’s about ten minutes left until it’s the new year. 

“Hannie! My parents want to see your red hair.” He turns his head at the call of his name, finding you sitting at his kitchen table on FaceTime with your family. He grins and walks over to you, resting his hand on the back of your chair as he puts himself in the frame. 

“Hi auntie and uncle! Happy New Year!” Jeonghan greets with a smile, and the two of you let out a laugh at your mom’s reaction to his bright hair color. He runs a hand through his hair, sending your mom a thumbs up in the camera. “Do you like my hair?

“I’m honestly just surprised that you pull it off so well.” Your mom responds, and you chuckle. Your dad nods in agreement, giving Jeonghan a thumbs up with a proud smile on his face. Grinning, you reach out and ruffle Jeonghan’s hair. 

“Of course Hannie can pull it off! He’s one of the prettiest guys ever, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were able to rock green hair.” Your mom and dad laugh, while Jeonghan just stares at you for a moment, feeling slightly empty when you pull your hand away. Your mom lets out a mischievous smile, and you raise an eyebrow at it. “What are you planning, mom?” 

“Since you think Jeonghan is so pretty, why aren’t you dating him yet?” Warmth immediately floods your face, and you let out a whine, causing your mom and dad to holler over in laughter. You turn to Jeonghan to apologize, and he just gives you a small smile, nodding his head in understanding. When you glance back at your phone to scold your parents, Jeonghan’s smile turns bitter, and he looks away from your screen to hide it. 

You and Jun have been dating for a month now. 

“I’ll talk to you guys later! Jeonghan and I have to take our annual New Year’s photo.” You say, waving at your parents with a bright smile on your face.

“Bye Jeonghan!” Jeonghan glances back over at your phone, finding your parents waving at him with happy expressions on their faces. He forces out a smile, waving back at them with the same energy they’re giving him. “Yn and I will try to visit soon!” 

“Yeah you better!” You let out a laugh at your dad’s comment, waving at them one last time before ending the call. You lean back into the chair, closing your eyes to try and muster up some energy. 

“Your parents’ love suck all the life out of you?” Jeonghan asks with an amused expression on his face, and you wave him away with your hand, eyes still closed as you do so. He chuckles, reaching out and pinching your cheek before walking back over to the couch. 

“Are we gonna take a picture or what?” You open your eyes to see Jeonghan already preparing the polaroid camera, and you stand up and walk over to him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, making Jeonghan stiffen slightly, and he hopes you didn’t notice. However, you’re observant.

“Why’d you freeze? Oh! Is your shoulder bothering you again?” You ask in concern, immediately stepping back and assessing Jeonghan’s shoulder. He watches as you begin to ramble about how he should go to the doctor about his shoulder pain as you poke and prod at him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he moves his shoulder out of your reach, “It’s fine, I just slept wrong last night.” He lies through his teeth, and you stare into Jeonghan’s eyes as your hands slowly fall to your sides. 

His deep brown eyes bore into yours, seeing a reflection of his own as he does so. After a moment of searching, you look away with a sigh. 

Jeonghan’s eyes are your favorite feature of his, as his true emotions always show through them. They’re his most honest feature, you’d say. 

so why can’t I tell if he’s lying right now? 

You shake your head, before looking back at Jeonghan with a smile. You nod your head, reaching out and softly patting his shoulder as a means to not accidentally hurt him. “Let’s take the photo, I need a post for Instagram.” 

Jeonghan scoffs, holding up the polaroid camera, “You only want to take photos with me so that you get more likes on Instagram.” 

You smile, peace sign up towards your eye as you nod your head, “Of course. If I have a pretty boy beside me in my photos, then everyone will like them!” 

Jeonghan smiles, winking into the polaroid camera as the flash goes off. The film photo immediately pops out, and you take the small photo and wave it around. Jeonghan purses his lips, before holding up the camera again. 

“Let’s take one more.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow, surprised that he wants to take another photo with you. You place the polaroid down onto the coffee table before posing without question, as you’re afraid he will immediately take back the request. 

“1, 2, 3-” Your hand makes your way to Jeonghan’s face, squishing his cheeks when the flash goes off. Jeonghan turns to face you, finding you giggling happily as you take the developing polaroid, flapping it around a bit before placing it onto the coffee table. 

“I wanted to look handsome in that one.” Jeonghan whines, and you roll your eyes. 

“You’re always handsome, be quiet.” You respond, and Jeonghan opens his mouth to argue, only to stop when you glance at the time. 

“15 SECONDS!” You screech, grabbing the noise maker and confetti, handing one to Jeonghan in the process. You jump up and down as the two of you begin to count down. 

“10!” 

“9!” 

“8!”

“7!” Jeonghan glances at you, feeling as if time is starting to slow down as you excitedly dance while counting down. 

“6!”

“5!”

“4!” You laugh happily, doing a small dance as you prepare the confetti in your hand. 

“3!” 

“2!” Jeonghan feels his heart sink in his chest when you turn to face him with a bright smile, seeing all the stars in your eyes as you stare at him. 

“1!” 

“Happy New Year, Hannie!” You squeal, throwing the confetti up as high as you can into the air. Jeonghan swallows, noticing how dry his throat has become as he takes in the sight before him. Time comes to a slow as the fireworks explode in the air behind you through the window, while the confetti sparkles fall around the two of you. All the background noise drowns out, all of his senses honing in on you and you only. You look nothing short of ethereal in this moment.

The realization of what he’s been denying for the last three months comes to the surface as he stares at you, and he wishes for nothing more than for it to not be true. That it’s just a fluke.

However, when you turn back towards him and wrap your arms around his frame, greeting him Happy New Year once more, Jeonghan knows it’s the truth. 

“Happy New Year, Yoon Jeonghan.” You say softly with a grin, and Jeonghan slowly wraps his arms around you, biting the inside of his cheek as he closes his eyes. 

“Happy New Year, yn yln.” Jeonghan mutters, and you pull away to pull out your phone from your pocket. You wave it around Jeonghan’s face with a mischievous smile, “I’m gonna go greet Jun a happy new year, I’ll be back in a sec.” 

Jeonghan squeezes his fist at his side, nodding his head as he gives you a smile. “Tell the handsome man I said Happy New Year.” 

You give the redhead a thumbs up, before dialing Jun’s number and heading towards the bathroom. Once the door closes behind you, Jeonghan reaches up and clutches his chest, biting his bottom lip harshly as he looks down at the floor. He notices the now developed polaroids, and lifts up the one where you're squishing his face.

You’re staring at Jeonghan with stars in your eyes as you smile widely, hand squishing his cheeks. Jeonghan purses his lips, before pulling out his wallet from the back of his jeans, placing the polaroid into the slot before his driver’s license. 

The photo reflects back at him underneath the light from the fireworks behind him, and Jeonghan lets out a breath. Running a hand through his hair, he closes his wallet and places it back into his pocket. Just in time too, as he looks up when he hears your bathroom door open, noticing the happy smile on your face. 

“Ready to make midnight snacks to celebrate the new year?” You ask with a wink, and Jeonghan throws on his best fake smile, nodding his head. 

“Of course I do, don’t ask me no stupid fucking questions.” Jeonghan teases, and you let out a laugh at the sentence, sending the redhead’s heart into a frenzy. 

“Let’s go make food then.” You say, turning and heading towards the kitchen. Jeonghan slowly walks after you, a sad smile on his face as he watches you dance as you walk. 

Just one more day. Jeonghan thinks to himself, before speeding up his pace and wrapping his arm around you. You turn to look at your best friend, and he smiles at you. 

“Let’s make rice krispy treats.” Jeonghan suggests, only to let out a laugh at how your face brightens just at the mention of the delicious dessert, and you nod your head excitedly. You lead him to his own pantry, and begin explaining who’s gonna do what as you take out all the ingredients. All while Jeonghan watches fondly, knowing that he needs to ingrain this moment in his brain.

Just one more day with yn.

Jeonghan shuffles in front of your door, dreading what’s going to happen as soon as he knocks on the surface. He lets out a sigh, resting his head on the wall for a moment, questioning everything.

What if I just pretended?

I could just walk in and we could hangout like we usually do, like nothing has changed at all.

No.

Jeonghan lifts up his head, raising his fist and knocking on your door without a second thought. He bites the inside of his cheek when he hears you say, “Coming!” 

Your front door opens after a moment, and his eyes trail over your outfit. An oversized vest over a white dress shirt paired with straight leg pants and sneakers to match. Jeonghan’s eyes slowly go back towards your face, just to find you staring at him with surprise painted over your features.

“Hannie! I wasn’t expecting you, what’s up?” You ask, and Jeonghan stays quiet for a moment. He gestures to you, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“Are you going somewhere?” Jeonghan asks, and you nod your head. Letting out a smile, you show off your outfit and do a timid spin for emphasis on the oversized vest. “I have a date with Jun today, you like the fit?” 

Jeonghan doesn’t respond, instead squeezing his fist in his pocket. He looks down the hallway, making you look in the same direction as well. You find Jun walking towards your apartment, and you let out a smile. 

“Speak of the Devil. Did you need something from my apartment? You can just lock up when you’re done.” You tell Jeonghan as you turn back towards him, and you find the rest of the words die in your throat at the sadness in his eyes. You reach out to grasp his arm, and he takes a step back. 

“Hannie, what’s wrong-” 

“Jun is lucky to have you.” Jeonghan cuts you off, and you stare at him as he struggles to utter the next word. He turns back to look at Jun, seeing that he’s almost to your door, having not noticed Jeonghan yet. 

“Jeonghan?” You ask, and you watch as the pretty man turns back to look at you. 

“Pacman.” Jeonghan breathes out, and you feel your heart stop, unsure of why.

He turns around and walks away without another word, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You step out to ask him what he means, only for Jeonghan to stop and turn around himself. He gives you a bittersweet smile, waving his hand at you. 

“You look beautiful, yn. Have fun on your date.” And with that, Jeonghan turns around and walks away, sucking in a deep breath to try and hold back the tears that threaten to escape. Leaving you alone by your doorway, confused. 

“Was that Jeonghan?” You turn your head at the sound of Jun’s voice, and he gives you a soft smile. You nod your head slowly, turning to look back in the direction that he left in. “Yeah, he seems sad though.” 

“Wanna go and check on him?” Jun asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek, remembering the tickets Jun bought in advance for the two of you to go to this garden. Regretfully, you shake your head and give Jun a warm smile. “It’s okay, I’ll check on him after our date.” 

You quickly grab your phone and bag, locking the door to your apartment and turning to Jun with a grin. He extends his hand towards you, and you intertwine your fingers with his. The two of you walk towards the elevators, but you’re left in confusion as to what Jeonghan meant, and why he was so sad.

Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and months eventually turned into a year. 

You and Jeonghan haven’t spoken since the day he stopped by your apartment and said that cursed word. 

You tried to reach out once you realized what he meant, even stopping by his apartment multiple times to just get him to say something, anything. You were quite literally talking to a door, as there was never a response. There were times that you fell asleep in front of his apartment on the floor, and would wake up in Jun’s arms as he carried you back to your own place. 

Many tears were shed, hearts were broken on both sides as you lost not only Jeonghan, but Jun as the two of you broke up four months after Jeonghan left. 

“I’ll always love you, but I know that your heart belongs to someone else.” Jun tells you softly, and you bite the inside of your cheek. He gives you a small smile, grasping your face, making you look down at the floor as he presses one last kiss to your forehead. 

Jun pulls away, and pats the top of your head. “Don’t be a stranger, yn. I love you.” 

You wanted nothing more than for Jeonghan to be there with you at that moment, to help you take the baby steps in healing, but you couldn’t get through to him no matter how much you tried.

It was what you two promised to do, anyways. 

He even managed to avoid you on campus successfully, you couldn’t be surprised though. The university is huge, you wouldn’t have been able to find him if you tried, which you did. He stopped frequenting all the places the two of you used to go to, it was as if he disappeared. 

And the hole in your heart grew and grew the longer Jeonghan was gone. 

Now here you are, a year later, sitting on a park bench as you let the music flow through your airpods. The weather is nice, a contrast to the rain that’s been pelting the city of Seoul for the last few days. The sky is blue, and there’s a slight wind to cool you down from the warmth of the sun. You tilt your head back, letting out a sigh as you remember the pile of assignments sitting on your desk back at home. 

And so, placing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, you get up off the bench and begin to walk down the path in the direction of your apartment. Your eyes stay on the ground the whole time, just trying to focus on the soothing piano as you ignore the other people walking by you. 

You only look up when you get to the crosswalk, seeing a crowd of people across the street from you. Your eyes trail along the numerous faces you see, and you’re about to look back down when you lock eyes with a familiar pair. 

“Jeonghan.” You breathe out as he stares at you with the same amount of shock written across his face. His red hair is now dyed black, emphasizing his sharp features. His eyes still hold all the warmth that you remember as he stares directly back at you, making the pain in your chest more evident at how much you miss him. You bite the inside of your cheek harshly at how much prettier he’s become, wondering how he’s capable of doing so as time passes. 

The crosswalk signal turns green, but you remain where you are for a moment, as does Jeonghan. The reminder of the promise the two of you made flooding through your mind.

“Nono! I mean like, for a certain amount of time. Essentially we’d just ghost each other until our feelings go away, and the other can’t intervene.” You explain, slightly shoving Jeonghan away, but you see that he still looks a bit put off by your idea. 

“I’d feel like ass if you just left without a word, though.” Jeonghan tells you, and you slowly nod your head, understanding where he’s coming from. You let out another sigh, looking up at the ceiling.

“Pacman.” You peek at Jeonghan, wondering why he mentioned your guys’ favorite game. He gives you a tired smile, “It’ll be our code word. Instead of leaving without a trace for a couple months, or confessing our feelings and then leaving, we can just say Pacman. It’s not directly saying I love you, and who knows if either of us will remember the word. It’s the perfect thing to say before disappearing for a bit.” 

Jeonghan begins to cross the street first, and you look down at the road as you step off the sidewalk, melting in with the crowd as you walk in Jeonghan’s direction. Your heart is breaking within your chest as you do so, knowing that you have to keep the promise you made with Jeonghan. 

The two of you pinky swore, after all. 

Tightly, you squeeze your fists at your side as the piano instrumental reaches its climax in your ears. Numerous questions flood your brain as you reach the middle of the street.

Is this it? 

Are we never going to be best friends again?

Has he already passed me?

Does…

Does he still love me?

All thoughts rush out your brain when a hand grabs your wrist unexpectedly, the sudden jerk of your arm making your earbud fall out of your ear and onto the road, the soft key sounds of the piano disappearing with the wind. You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat when you’re pulled into a tight embrace. It’s only when the familiar scent of Spring fills your senses, that you immediately wrap your arms around Jeonghan’s frame, tears filling your eyes from the overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Hi, yn.” Jeonghan mutters into your ear, tears falling from his own eyes as he holds you tightly, never wanting to let you go. You let out a sob at the sound of his voice, closing your eyes as you clutch onto him just as tight, scared that he’ll disappear without a trace again if you let go. 

And so, through your tears, you whisper, “Hi, Jeonghan.”

“Yn! It’s only a few more minutes until midnight!” 

“Coming!” You shout back, checking over your reflection once more. You step out of the restroom once you’re sure that you look decent, and walk over to your living room. You let out a smile once you lay eyes on Jeonghan laying upside down on your couch, scrolling through his phone.

“What are you doing, Hannie?” You ask, and the black haired beauty peeks at you past his phone, flashing you a smile. 

“It’s more comfortable this way, wanna try?” You roll your eyes, flicking his forehead as you grab the polaroid camera. He lets out a whine, fixing his position so that he’s now sitting properly and not upside down. 

“Why’d you flick me?” 

“Cause you’re cheeky.” You answer, preparing the polaroid film to take the annual New Year’s Eve photo. Jeonghan grins, quickly fixing his hair to make sure it looks presentable. “Do I look okay?” 

You quickly turn towards him, taking in his features. His soft eyes gaze into yours as you stare at his pretty nose and high cheekbones. You reach out and pinch his cheek with a smile, “You look pretty, Hannie. You always do. Now let’s take this photo.” 

Jeonghan smiles happily at your compliment, before taking the polaroid camera from you and holding it out as you have trouble doing so. You let out a bright smile at the camera, Jeonghan doing the same as he takes the photo. The flash goes off, and you’re quick to take the film out and wave it around. 

“Another one.” You command as you take the polaroid camera out of Jeonghan’s hands, and he chuckles, nodding his head. You hold the camera out and send a wink towards the camera, Jeonghan doing the same pose. 

“Okay. 1, 2, 3-” Jeonghan quickly changes his pose last minute, reaching out with his hand and squeezing your cheeks with a laugh. The flash goes off, and you let out a whine, turning back towards the pretty man to see him still giggling as he takes the polaroid out and waves it around.

“Are you happy now that you’ve gotten your revenge?” You ask, and he nods his head with a grin. “Very happy, actually.” 

You’re about to respond, only to pause when you see that there’s only 30 seconds left until the clock strikes midnight. You practically screech, standing up from the couch to grab the noise makers. Jeonghan watches you with a fond smile on his face, getting up from the couch to snatch the confetti. 

“You’re doing confetti this year?” You ask when you scramble back over, noise maker now in your grasp. Jeonghan chuckles, “Why do we always get confetti when it’s a pain to clean up afterwards?” 

You purse your lips, refusing to answer the question as you begin to count down the seconds instead. Jeonghan rolls his eyes at your antics, starting to count down along with you. 

“10!” 

“9!” 

“8!” 

“7!” Jeonghan nudges you a bit, and you stumble over, making the latter laugh loudly as you squint at him. 

“6!” 

“5!” 

“4!” You and Jeonghan turn towards each other, bright smiles on your faces as you continue to count down.

“3!”

“2!” 

“1!” 

“Happy New Year!” You both cheer, and Jeonghan throws the confetti up high into the air. You laugh excitedly as it falls around the two of you, feeling your heart warm when he turns to you and grasps your face with his hands. 

Your eyes softly fall shut as Jeonghan leans in and captures your lips in a kiss to celebrate the new year. Your hands trail up and rest on his sides, gripping his shirt as a smile breaks out onto both of your faces. He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours, staring into your eyes. 

“I love you, yn.” He whispers, and you feel your heart swell from joy.

“I love you too, Jeonghan.” Warmth fills Jeonghan from those three simple words that hold so much depth as the two of you begin to sway side to side to the soft music filling the background.

The polaroid that Jeonghan kept in his wallet for the last two years sits up on the frame behind the both of you as you slow dance, the bright colors of the fireworks exploding outside casting an iridescent glow over the two of you. 

As you scoot closer and rest your head onto Jeonghan’s chest, and his hand softly cradles the back of your head, you realize that sometimes, 

Promises are meant to be broken.

[songbirdstyles]

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’)  and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And - 

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

 --

 “I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar. 

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him. 

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

 --

 For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned. 

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

 --

 You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is! 

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does? 

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.” 

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

 --

 You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

 --

 Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat. 

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different. 

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

 --

 You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth. 

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut. 

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation. 

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more. 

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

[rosewater-chlxe]

pumpkin | colby brock

✖ Summary: While taking a trip to Rosehill Cemetery for one Colby’s videos, you both become a little too distracted to realize the dangers surrounding you. 

✖  genre ; fluff, comfort, the tiniest bit of angst 

✖  warnings ; slight mention of smut, reader w/ anxiety, mention of rituals 

✖ requested - yes | no

anon asked:  Hi love ! I saw that you take requests for colby again and I sent a request a while back asking if you could write one where he and his gf wanted to film a video but they start to make out super randomly and have to film the whole video again and now I am wondering if you could write it ?

a/n: i’m so terribly sorry for the wait; i hope you like it my lovely!! stay hydrated, take care of yourself, n make sure to rest!! ily <3 

✖ masterlist

The setting was quite bizarre for the feelings you felt so deeply and beautifully in your heart; you were completely, utterly mesmerized by the boy standing beside you. You walked in this dark, melancholic place with your fingers intertwined; both his and your hands interlocked. He carried a backpack of filming equipment, drinks, snacks, and band-aids; you carried a separate bag of blankets and pillows. Ghosts and ghouls were rumored to be in this grey, brooding place; even dangerous rituals have taken place here: Rosehill Cemetery. 

“Where do you wanna film the intro? I was thinking next to the Mortuary,” Colby said, “If you’re still comfortable and down for this, that is.” 

“Of course I am!! Maybe a little nervous, but there’s no turning back now,” You replied, feeling a cold chill go down your spine at the thought of anything going wrong. 

“Then the Mortuary it is,” He said with a grin that contained a hint of rebellion and mischief in it. 

As the violet-haired boy filmed the intro to his video, you admired his every feature and each mannerism. The way he talked while swaying his hands and hips; the dimples slightly showing through his cheeks, the motions of his jawline. The angelic, ethereal man that stood before you made you weak to your knees; it was hard to count every breath he took from your lungs. 

You were so in awe that you couldn’t hear the pet names said to get your attention, until finally he said your name. 

“Y/N? You alright?” He questioned with a slight smile, catching your wandering eyes. 

“Perfect.” You replied with a soft smile as he looked you up and down. 

You both ended up heading to the biggest honorary statue nearby, to not only take a thumbnail but also to explore more of the graveyard. As you quietly stumbled down the gravel path with Colby, hand in hand, he made witty comments to the camera whilst paying close attention to your surroundings.  This if the first kind of video of Colby’s that you’ve joined; you’ve always been eager to do something like this, though you know it can get risky and dangerous. That’s exactly why he held it off for so long, he never wanted to put you in any kind of uncomfortable or tense situations. The dyed-haired boy leading you has always been the utmost respectful and kind human being you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

The amount of pure infatuation and love you held for him came without hesitance or thought; no number could label what you felt, no word could describe what happened in you when you simply glance at him. The electric blue butterflies swarming through your heart and the rosewater in your veins never faded, only growing more and more intense each waking second. Before him, it was as if your world could only be seen in light grey and shades of blue; now everything is built with much higher saturation. 

You knew not of what may happen in the future, but you knew you seen him in every upcoming chapter. 

“Excited?” Colby asked, grinning at you as he looked back at you. 

“Very; and a little scared, not gonna lie,” you replied with a light, friendly laugh. 

“It’ll all be fine, if anything were to happen you know we can just go home,” he reassured you with a sly wink. 

You nodded with a giddy smile, trying your best to look away from him. He could always make you feel like you’re on top of the world even with the smallest of interactions - that absolute bastard. You rolled your eyes as you realized just how much you’ve truly fallen for him. 

You skipped in front of him and stopped him from walking ahead, smirking at him while he looked at you questioningly and suspiciously. 

“What’re you up to, rascal?” He asked, knowing of your mischievous tendencies in the past. 

“Now why do you always assume the worst from me?” you laughed as you started to trace a fingertip along his jawline, then to his neck; you felt him swallow as if he felt nervous, though you knew it wasn’t nervousness making him eager. Soon enough your fingertip made it’s way down to his chest, then to the bottom half of his black button down shirt. You let out a light laugh as you teased, completely removing your hand from his torso entirely. 

Colby scoffed and quickly ran his ring-clad fingers up to your throat, his hand then forming a light grip across your jaw.  

“Wanna think about teasing me again, princess?” He asked with a now lower toned voice. 

You sweetly smiled at his intimidating exterior and leaned in to kiss him, in which he happily obliged. 

You felt his soft, light pink-tinted lips against your own and the rest of your face grew numb. Your body became weak, and your legs tightly squeeze together as you felt the grip on your throat roughen. His tongue darted against your bottom lip, making you let out a sweet, soft sound. Within a few seconds, your hands started wandering beneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt; though as soon as your hand drifted lower, Colby almost immediately pulled away.  

You were snapped out of your lovesick state as his facial features grew concerned; the only thing you seen at the statue you were a few feet away from was the illumination of candlelight and light chanting.

“Down,” He whispered, gently grabbing your shoulder and taking you to crouch with him. He placed a finger over his mouth, creating a silent “sh,” sound as he watched what was happening. 

“Colby,” you whispered, “What’re they doing? Who are they?” you began to panic. 

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, just make sure you stay with me and do as I say,” he calmly whispered while making the softest direct eye contact with you. 

He knew you have always had the worst anxiety and one of his top priorities are making sure that anxiety is calmed; that you’re taken care of. He always tries his best to keep you comfortable in every setting, that became much more evident rather than subtle when you told him about your anxiety. He very much understood what you went through and knew that you could help each other through your anxiety issues. Situations like this was something he never wanted you to experience. 

“Who’s there?” a man in black attire yelled from the statue, looking in your direction. The chanting stopped. 

Colby had a look of shock across his face, then sudden terror as he seen something near the statue that you didn’t; as soon as he gasped, the next thing you knew was running the opposite direction with him. 

“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” Colby loudly spoke right next to you as you ran; he made sure never to let go of your hand. 

“What did you see?” you yelled in response, trying to keep up with him when it came down to every single breath.

Colby didn’t respond, but he glanced back to see six masked silhouettes in the far distance; they did not run, they walked in unison. 

At this point of running for what felt like decades though it had only been an estimated 45 minutes, you could see what looked like the parking lot close ahead. You had tears in your eyes that just wouldn’t drop; your throat felt like it was closing more and more within each passing second. 

You and Colby finally made it to his car and looked back for anyone near you. No one else was to be seen. You jumped in and slammed the door, Colby then locking the car and doing nothing less than booking it. 

He quickly pulled out of the parking lot and started going far faster than he should have. You seen him glance towards you in concern, making sure you were safe. His fingertips tapped on the steering wheel due to anxiousness. 

“Colby, breathe, you’ve got me,” you reassuringly said to him with a small smile, though your voice came out with cracks and whines. 

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, this was such a bad idea,” he said to you in response, placing his right hand on your thigh whilst he continued driving. 

“I’ll be fine as soon as we get home, please just relax for me?” you asked sweetly. 

He nodded, his muscles untensing and his jaw unclenching. 

“What can I do to make this up to you, sweetheart?” he asked, feeling incredibly guilty for the situation he put you in. 

“You have nothing to make up to me love, but if we’re being honest the footage wouldn’t have been used anyway,” you said causing both of you to let out a light laugh, “so we could film another video tonight instead. A more laid-back one? Perhaps making a Halloween cake?” you excitedly smiled. 

“Anything for you, baby,” he sighed with relief, “but we have to watch horror movies tonight and I don’t make the rules, you gotta cuddle me,” Colby demanded. 

“Most definitely, pumpkin,” you replied lovingly.  

- fin. 

[peachyteez]

little wanderer ≫ DAY FIVE, THE MAN DRESSED IN BLACK.

this fellow stray cat hybrid has been hanging around jiyu’s condo for as long as he could remember, although jiyu may not have noticed him. the cold winter breeze and jiyu’s open bedroom window prompts him to sneak into her bedroom one night. it was just suppose to be one night, but the gods must’ve been smiling upon him.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @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, @c-sanshine

✧ notes: well this chapter took a turn 😭

✧ WARNING(S): mentions of misogyny, brief story of san attacking someone, a curse word (?)

back。|  next。

if jiyu had a dollar for every time she had been woken up in the middle of the night in the past week—well, she wouldn’t be rich, but she’d have a substantial amount of pocket change. 

“jiyu!” mingi whispered, gently shaking her out of her slumber. “wake up!”

groaning, she habitually scooted over to make room on the bed since mingi usually wandered into her room in the middle of the night due to nightmares. “just don’t take all the blanket—”

“no! this is urgent!” he frantically tried explaining. “i think someone’s trying to break in!”

her eyes instantly shot open and she immediately sat right up in bed. “mingi, why didn’t you just start with that?” she frantically whispered back, hurriedly slipping on a hoodie. 

“i tried, but you kept grumbling!”

“okay, we’ll have this conversation again later. let’s just see if the others are awake.” slowly opening her bedroom door, she and mingi peeked their heads out to see if anyone was outside. while they didn’t see anyone, they heard footsteps and clutters out by the front door. 

mingi clutched onto her hoodie as his eyes clamped shut out of terror and his ears were slumped down. jiyu took his hand in her’s and rubbed comforting circles on his knuckles. “shh, it’s okay mingi.”

while whispering to mingi, she noticed the others tip-toeing towards them as to not alert the perpetrator that they were awake. being the predator hybrids, seonghwa, hongjoong, and yeosang were on full alert. yunho scurried over to her and mingi, quietly whimpering, while san stood and frowned at the front door.

“i didn’t think they’d come so soon...” he mumbled once he caught whiff of the familiar human scent.

“was this the one that hurt you?” hongjoong whispered. 

san nodded. “he works for my...old owners. i thought he stopped tracking me down a while ago until the other night.” he looked to the floor, guilt flashing across his features. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to drag you into my affairs—”

jiyu interrupted while holding onto yunho and mingi. “san, i’ve mentioned it before, we chose to help you, meaning we won’t abandon you even if we’re also pulled into danger. so don’t apologize, okay?” 

seeing her small smile of reassurance, his guilt multiplied. but he couldn’t do anything about it now, so he just nodded while promising himself that he wouldn’t let a single hair on their heads get hurt. even if he would be the one to take the blunt of the pain.

“oi, choi san! i know you’re in there.”

they all froze at the unknown voice from the front door.

“why don’t you open the door and we can just talk this out like grown men?”

san climbed down the stairs and stood a distance away from the front door. seonghwa and hongjoong followed in case. “you beat me to a pulp the last time, and now you just want to talk? i don’t think so,” he hissed. 

the person on the other side let out a low chuckle. “ah, apologies for that. although you and i both know that it’d be a shame if you were too badly...injured. they do want you alive and well, after all. i can’t kill you, san.”

a moment of silence passed as they all held their breaths, anticipating the next move. but much to their surprise, the person showed no signs of breaking down the front door and wreaking havoc. 

“in all seriousness, san, i really did come to talk. no weapons, just to talk.”

“seonghwa,” jiyu whispered down to the wolf hybrid. “you can check the security camera over there,” she pointed to her tablet that was on the living room table. luckily, when they had first moved in, she had installed two security cameras, both so small to the human eye that anyone would just gloss over it. 

“and again, what makes you think i’d believe you?” san asked, while watching the wolf hybrid from the corner of his eye. seonghwa pulled up the security footage to see a man wearing a long, black trench coat, and his face was obscured by a black fedora hat. he stood with his hands in his pockets, and his overall figure practically screamed danger. 

suddenly, the man took out folded papers from his pockets and held it up—almost as if he knew they were watching him. “because i came with something that you’ve been after ever since you left.”

san’s eyes widened and his body froze. there’s no way—

“so what’s the move?” hongjoong asked to both san and jiyu. 

judging from his reaction, jiyu had a hunch that whatever the unknown man brought was really important to san. she didn’t know what it was, but looking at the security footage, he didn’t seem like he was hiding anything. and his voice, she could be hearing things, but it seemed as if it held a tinge of remorse.

“carefully open the door,” she decided. “but don’t let your guard down.”

despite looking he had some objections, hongjoong and seonghwa carefully walked ahead of san, who was still frozen in spot, and cracked the door open. they both anticipated either gunshots or the person to come barging through them, but they both peeked out to see the man standing there patiently.

“oh? i see you made some friends,” he commented. “meaning...you’re taking refuge with another human?”

“try anything funny, i’ll make sure you never step out of here alive,” seonghwa snarled before opening the door wide enough for the man to come in. hongjoong stood eyed the man suspiciously, as he waltzed in, stopping in front of san. 

with a better look at the man, they all noticed a mask that covered up to his eyes. the man was tall, but falling just a little short of yunho’s height, and he seemed to be in his mid-thirties or late-twenties. 

despite being terrified out of there wits, and even though yeosang was standing protectively by them, mingi and yunho stood in front of jiyu, scared that the man would try to harm her. but their shaking didn’t go unnoticed from her. she held their hands, hoping it could comfort them.

“i see you’ve aged well,” the man noted, looking san up and down. “to be quite honest, i’m surprised you managed to survive out on the streets all these years. i—no we, were sure you’d give up and come back.”

“as if i’d ever go back,” san lowly, but firmly stood his ground.

the man smirked before taking a look around at each of them. “so where’s your little human friend?”

she stepped out from behind yunho and mingi before peering down over the railings. “what business do you have here?” with the exception of yunho and seonghwa, they were all surprised at her composed and level-headed state.

letting out a huff of disbelief, he started straight up at her. “i wasn’t expecting a woman.”

“hm, sorry to disappoint then,” she sneered.

she was used to the misogynistic treatment; even back at home, people always underestimated her abilities since she was a girl. she’s heard the comments, backhanded compliments, and seen the undermining looks as people doubted her. but she swore to prove them wrong one day, even though she took five years off.

“so again, what do you want here?”

the man chuckled again at her defensive tone before holding his hands up. “i come in peace, ma’am.”

“and for your own sake, i hope that’s true,” she bit back before coming down the stairs. she left mingi and yunho with yeosang. the man let out an airy chuckle before making himself comfortable on the couch, aware of seonghwa’s and hongjoong’s preying gaze on him. 

“...did you really bring it?” san asked, not wanting to get his hopes up. this was the same man that hunted him down for years on end, yet he came here, claiming that he managed to retrieve the items san really wanted? it was near to impossible that he was telling the truth, but there was that sliver of hope.

bringing out the papers once again, the man laid it on the coffee table in front of him. “you can check for yourself. i may work for them, but i’m a man of my word.”

jiyu waltzed over and peered at the papers the man laid out. her eyebrows furrowed at the contents. his birth certificate and adoption forms? 

coming up next to her, san stared at the forms with widened eyes. they were indeed what he had been after for the past few years, and the man really did bring it to him. so many questions ran through his head that he couldn’t even form a single sentence. the home was dropped into a tense silence, the only sound being the ticking of the clock above the dining table. 

seconds turned into a minute before san could croak out a sentence, or rather, a question. “b-but, why—”

“i’ve had a lot of time—years—to think,” the man leaned back on the couch and stared up at san. “it’s pretty stupid and childish to chase you down for something that wasn’t even your fault, don’t you think?”

san was still cautious. “so you took these for me to do...what?”

“well, what do you think?” the man leaned forward, resting his arms in his lap.

jiyu’s eyes slightly widened with surprise. “you want to set him free, don’t you...” 

“that’s one way of putting it, yes.”

“there’s a catch, there’s always a catch,” san sarcastically scoffed. “no way you’d give these to me for free after all these years—”

the man let out an exasperated sigh before leaning back on the couch and throwing his hands over his face. “oh my god, i ended my contract with them, you fucking idiot.”

san just silently stared at the man with the most comedic look on his face—widened eyes and his jaw slacked open like it was unhinged. meanwhile, jiyu just facepalmed at the revelation. 

“now why didn’t you just open with that?” she grumbled. leaving out important information seemed to be the night’s theme. 

“i thought i’d make it a little more fun. it’s not all that fun to just say my piece and go, now don’t you think?” the man mused before standing up. “my contract was ensued until i brought you back. i just told them a little white lie about how your trails went cold after a while so i just assumed you were dead. and poof, took these and left,” he gestured to the papers on the table.

“...will they still look for him though?” jiyu asked, unsure that they’d just give up looking for san just like that. 

“probably not. they were one to never get their hands dirty anyways. especially since their daughter’s in the hospital—”

san tensed at the mention of hospital, something that certainly didn’t go unnoticed by the man. “so she doesn’t know, does she?” he referred to jiyu. “or all of them for that matter.” at some point along the way, yeosang, mingi, and yunho had joined them downstairs, yet they still stuck close to yeosang just in case things went downhill again.

san silently shook his head, mentally preparing for the worst when they found out about his sins. 

“san here,” the man started, “is the one that put the family’s only daughter in the hospital.”

they glanced at san with the same thought. how did a cat hybrid manage to put a human in the hospital?

“to put it short, something provoked him to go feral, and he ended up attacking her until she almost bled out. we don’t know what provoked him to this day, but the family turned on him after that incident. and since he has no memories of the moments right before and when he was feral, it was hard for him to defend himself, so he ran away.”

taking a look at san, who looked like he just wanted to disappear, she felt her heart ache for him. he’s been alone for so long...all because of a potential misunderstanding. 

“either way, i’m still the reason she’s been injured for so long. not only physically, but probably mentally, too. imagine the trauma from being attacked by a feral hybrid.” a deprecating chuckle escaped san’s lips. 

seeing him look so down, she stroked his head. “hey, it wasn’t your fault. hybrids can’t help themselves when they go feral. it’s like you’re trapped out of your own body, so don’t blame yourself. you might have attacked her, but it wasn’t you.”

it was amazing to him how reassuring her words were, and how it was so easy for him to almost believe. there always will be that small part of him that will always blame himself for what happened, whether he liked it or not.

the man stood up and brushed his pants. “i believe i’ve overstayed my welcome, so i’ll take my leave now,” he bowed to the six of them. “and i apologize for the fright i might’ve caused.”

before the man could open the door to leave, san felt compelled to at least thank him for what he’s done. “wait! thank you...for everything...”

after a moment’s pause, the man turned around, and judging from how his eyes turned upward, it seemed as though he was smiling. “it was the least i could do after everything i’ve put you through the last few years. i’ll see you around, choi san.”

and with that, the man took his leave. 

once he closed the door, he heard their muffled voices, most likely discussing san’s future. he smiled before looking up to the sky. “well now, where am i to go next?”

[ushidoux]

Hesitant (Ushijima x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 3350 words (I can’t believe I wrote this much)

Summary: You find out why Ushijima has been a little hesistant about things getting too steamy between you. NSFW.

A/N: This is awkward af and quite cracky but hopefully in an endearing way.

---

Ushijima Wakatoshi was essentially perfect.

Just the right amount of unexpectedly charming and unintentionally hilarious, the man had a way of tugging at your heartstrings with even the most basic gestures. The way he reached for your hand instinctively when you met up with him after your college courses, the softening of his usual glower as he turned in your direction in response to your voice calling his name, or the short but sweet morning texts - all things that made your heart swell for him.

He was straightforward and most importantly, explicit with his actions from the very first moment you got involved. You never got the impression you were being strung along and despite how hyperaware you were about the ills of the current dating landscape, not once did you consider the possibility of getting ghosted or benched.

Weeks then months passed and you fell fast for him. You were in love.

In love with everything: his facial expressions, whether serious or smiling, his dedication to his craft, his warm, large hands, the timbre of his voice and the way it softened especially for you...

He was perfect.

But when your third month anniversary (not that you were keeping track, of course) came and passed and you had not yet had that kind of intimacy, you could no longer ignore the ache in your core he left you with after his lips parted from you minutes into a deep, passionate kiss...

Or worse - when he came from behind and held you tightly around the waist, the familiar but not-familiar-enough bulge between his legs pressing against your lower back and demanding your attention in a different way Toshi did.

In mere moments, every touch went from wanted and appreciated to craved and needed, and it began to hurt.

Why was he holding back?

“T-toshi?” You mumbled, interrupting your makeout session by pulling back from him as far as you could with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Mm…?” His eyes connected to yours then slid back down to your lips, wanting, waiting for you to continue. Was he actually listening? You weren’t quite sure, but his hold on your hips firmed, keeping you steadily settled in his lap. He rested his chin on your shoulder, making sure to keep you close, and you could feel his heartbeat, slightly quickened as he waited for you to speak.

You wished he would look at you when you asked this next question but instead you pressed your cheek to his.

“Do you find me attractive?”

Your voice came out somewhere between soft and assertive, and you could feel Ushijima tense ever so slightly before straightening his back so that he was looking straight at you. His hands didn’t move from where they rested on your side and he remained very still, as he did often when he was unsure of what to do next.

His face remained unreadable and the behavior didn’t reassure you.

“Well, do you?” You pressed, your voice smaller this time.

“Why do you think otherwise?”

His deep voice was almost as quiet as yours, and he sounded almost apologetic. You felt a small weight land in the pit of your stomach, embarrassed to have made the mood so awful. But you couldn’t help what you wanted. You could feel that familiar heat rising within the space between your legs, and your breathing was getting quicker and raspier, and his hands had been roaming... A large hand had slipped under your shirt, then under your brassiere to palm and caress a breast, and suddenly his tongue was down your throat, and you knew soon he would stop and you would be left to smile and bite your lip while he hastily made up an excuse to leave.

Was it you? Was it him?

Your arms slowly slid down from around Ushijima’s neck and dropped into your lap. A small frown crossed his face very briefly in response and he gently withdrew his hands from where they held you.

You sat quietly together for a moment as you attempted to formulate words to express how you felt. Horny? Yes. Desired? You weren’t sure, and that was the issue.

“Sometimes, I feel like…,” you trailed off, carefully scrutinizing Ushijima’s face for a reaction. He continued to watch you cautiously, and you grimaced before continuing. Confrontation wasn’t your strong point, but communication was a must.

“I feel like things escalate and then… stop.” You paused there, and he tilted his head slightly. You mentally scolded yourself, knowing very well that you weren’t doing a great job of making sense, but in that surprisingly intuitive way of his, he seemed to know exactly what you meant.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he said, slowly.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you repeated, warmth flooding your cheeks once again. “U-unless you’re not ready to, you know, have sex... I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to coerce you into doing something that you don’t want to do, I just-”

You were interrupted by Ushijima’s hands finding their way back onto your hips again, and then standing you up completely straight so that he could rise to his full height. Seeing him tower over you now suddenly, you swallowed hard once. He could be so intimidating without meaning to, even if he was unequivocally sweet with you.

He let out a wistful sigh and ran a hand through his hair with his eyes closed before refocusing his gaze back onto you - you who were now standing awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs as you waited for him to decide to either tell you he was interested in touching and kissing but not outright having sex with you (but maybe some day!) or to just walk out the door never to be seen again without even bothering with an explanation.

Instead, he suddenly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, to your surprise.

“Wait, Toshi! Now?” You almost shrieked as he almost hastily undressed his lower half in the middle of your apartment without a single qualm. He was already unfastening his belt before he stopped to look at you - a good thing because your heart was now beating so fast in your chest, you were sure you were going to become lightheaded enough to pass out.

“We can if you want to. I’ve wanted to for a while now,” he replied, and to those simple words, your heart started to flutter and both elated and aroused you were again.

“The problem is, I was, and still am, a little worried that I might hurt you,” he started, and you wondered why he would be concerned about such a thing up until his pants dropped to his ankles, and your eyes grew wide as you realized what the limiting factor may have been. No wonder he had been avoiding sex for so long.

“I’m a bit large down there, it turns out.”

Large is an understatement, you thought, your eyes glued helplessly to the thing hanging between his legs. For the second time tonight, you swallowed hard - for once, you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

---

One very efficient store trip, a couple extra-large condoms, and a generous amount of lube later, you knelt across from Ushijima onto your large bed, your heart pounding again. Both of you were now stripped down to the bare flesh and while you wanted to drool over the sight of his bare chest and indulge in the feeling of his weight pressed against your body, you found yourself movement paralyzed, unsure of what to do next.

You had felt silly asking him to redress again so you could go out and buy supplies, but the truth was you needed time to come up with a game plan. Anyone who saw that monster cock for the first time would take a pause. Would you be able to take all of that? Could anyone take all of that?

“___, are you okay? You’re staring.”

You were trying to figure out if the condoms would fit him, then thanked the heavens that you were on the pill anyway if the condoms broke by any chance. When he waved his hand in your face, you were brought back into the reality of the here and now. You nodded, but the thinly veiled distress on your always expressive face was starting to remind him of the many locker room jokes and nicknames he’d endured once he’d reached the end of puberty.

Spear Ushijima was the first to come to mind and he grimaced, then rested back into a sitting position, cross-legged on the bed.

“We don’t have to do anything, I understand.” he said, flatly. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed it, concerned that he would look too upset. He smiled now instead to mask his disappointment and reached his arms out for you.

“We can cuddle. Oh, but if you would prefer that I put my clothes back on, I could do that too,” he said hurriedly, getting up to make his way off the bed, but you interrupted him by moving close and pressing a hand on his chest.

“Wait.”

And his surprised expression turned to another smile, more genuine this time, and he relaxed into your touch.

“___,” he whispered your name softly. You smiled, then keeping your eyes in fierce contact with his, you reached down to wrap your fingers around his considerable length. Even only semi-hard, the girth was impressive and you could feel the warmth shuttling in as he became aroused. His mouth parted just slightly in surprise.

“Are you sure?” His voice was already thick with lust.

“Yes,” you whispered, “but we’ll have to take it slow.” You added a smile to that last part and leaned forward to peck him on the lips once before you started to stroke him up and down his shaft.

He let out a soft moan and leaned back, watching you carefully as you worked your hand up and down his penis. You could tell he was trying very hard to keep still and let things run at your pace, and you relished in the opportunity fully.

“That… feels really good, ____,” he offered, his voice low and husky, and encouraged by his words, you added another hand, offering a few more pumps to his length before the piece de resistance to your lovely handjob, the application of your soft lips to his waiting cockhead.

He was already leaking a little precum, you could tell by the salt on your tongue as you licked at the slit at the tip of his member. He let out a low groan, and you could feel his muscles tense beneath you as he rose quickly.

“Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want-” he started, but you wouldn’t let him interrupt what you had going on.

“I want to, Toshi!” You exclaimed, almost indignantly, and as if to supplant that claim, you descended as far down his shaft as you could go in a fluid motion, but then to your misfortune, you must have triggered your gag reflex because you choked once then twice, and pulled yourself back to cough once more.

“Babe, are you okay?!”

Ushijima shot up like a board to hold you steady by the shoulders while you coughed, and as tears started to form in your eyes, you took one glance at his intense look of concern and you burst into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?”

You doubled over onto him, laughing even more against his chest, which only made him more concerned as he wrapped you in his arms.

“I told you this was dangerous and this is why I held myself back, ___.”

You pulled back once more, tears welling into your eyes as you finally said through snorts:

“Can you PLEASE stop acting like your dick is a lethal weapon?”

The look on Ushijima’s face was that of such extreme shock that you were pretty sure you would never stop laughing, that your fate was now to perpetually cackle until you died of asphyxiation. He frowned again, and you felt just a little bad but still the mixture of stress and confusion and awkwardness and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation rendered you unable to stop.

And finally he added, “It might be funny to you but I’ve never done this before.”

That sobered you up enough that you actually did cease chuckling, and with a final, unintentional chuckle, you faced him seriously this time, your faces only inches apart.

“Is it really your first time?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Another silence hung in the air, maybe because it was hard for you to believe that no one had ever touched him in this way or maybe because despite the fact that he looked either mildly irritated or severely embarrassed, you could still feel his erection hard against your lower belly and you weren’t sure if that meant you should continue (and to be honest, you really wanted to) or that sex was off the table for the time being.

But his arms were still wrapped around you, and you could feel the thump of his heart against your chest, and you wanted him, and you believed he wanted you too, and suddenly it was silly that you had been so intimidated in the first place.

Again you were caught staring into his eyes, and you felt warm again - different layering types of warm.

“Do you want to continue?” The two of you asked, almost in unison. You could hear the hint of persuasion, the please say yes in his voice.

You smiled, and pressed your lips to his again, and a hand went into your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and a hand went around your waist, securing you firmly against his body. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your tongues danced together again, and when your hand found its way again around his member, he tensed for a moment, but then in a decision to ignore his reservations, broke your embrace to pepper kisses along your neck and into your bosom.

You moaned and arched your back, gripping his member just a little tighter, and he took the opportunity to circle his tongue around your nipple before taking the mound in your mouth.

Consumed in the feeling of him suckling you, you were unprepared for the thick fingers that found their way around and then onto your clit, rubbing gentle circles that sparked waves of pleasure through you. Another moan escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, and then he slid a finger inside you, pressing just hard enough and in just the right place that you jerked almost violently against him.

His finger slipped out almost as fast as it had gone in.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it felt good!” You reassured him. “P-please continue.”

He nodded, and replaced his finger, pressing more gingerly this time, using the slowing and deepening of your breaths to guide him. You occupied your mouth again with kisses along his collarbones, onto the expanse of his broad chest, pressing your breasts against him, rolling against him. His breaths also started to slow as he fell in rhythm with the way your hips moved, and when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he flipped you over onto your back so that you lay beneath him.

A pause.

His olive eyes scanned you ravenously, and you could hear the hunger sealed within his breathy sighs, as he hovered over you. Your half-lidded eyes, your body warm and receptive and waiting for him, stating in every way possible that you wanted him - it was like a dream for him. He had wanted this for so long, to know what your insides would feel like around him, to know if he too, could make you scream his name in pleasure not pain, to do what his friends and teammates did with their partners, and now here you were, laid out for him like a whole meal.

“Are you ready?”

You didn’t look down at the warm, throbbing length resting on right on your pubic area, but instead at him, your gentle giant, and nodded.

“Yes.”

You closed your eyes and shivered ever so slightly at the sensation of lubricant being slathered right at the opening of your vagina. You could feel him repositioning himself right at your entrance, and trying to stay as relaxed as possible for him, you waited for him to enter you.

And he did, interlacing fingers with yours as he broke through your sopping entrance, feeling your hold tighten around his and hearing your breath hitch then relax as his cockhead made it through you.

Then he stopped so you could adjust to the stretch, and he rested on his elbows, trying to rub the wince out of your facial expression with a caress of the cheek.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Keep going.”

He pushed a little further and you uttered another low moan with the painful, yet pleasurable stretch, and he almost felt guilty for how good you felt around him, how desperately he wanted to fill you up all at once, how aroused he was by the sound of your whimper as you felt him.

“K-keep going,” you mewled as soon as he stopped to let you adjust, and he worried that he really would tear you apart this time, but you clung to his chest again and his desire to go as far into your guts as possible was too much for him to bear.

A groan and he was in almost to the hilt, and he wiped the tears forming in your eyes as you endured the searing pain, the pressure of him stretching you to your limit. The fact that he wasn’t moving was starting to become excruciating for you, and you began to squirm under his weight, indicating your wishes.

“Are you okay, my love?” He murmured carefully.

“Toshi, m-move, please…”

He obliged, withdrawing just a bit to crash back into you, and you cried out but not in pain, in a strangled cry of pleasure.

“Toshi!”

Again!

He could hear the cry for more in the way you said his name and the force with which you dug your nails into his back and again he obliged, thrusting into you again, and you could feel your head spin.

Again!

He settled into a rhythm and stroke after stroke you could feel yourself wind up, your cries and moans and grunts of pleasure loud and clear for him, for all to hear.

“Toshi- ah~!”

His pace quickened every time you called his name and his angle changed so that he was deep enough that it was almost uncomfortable (almost), and he was now grunting, sweating, making sure to leave no part of you untouched. Your thighs clamped around his waist and you muffled your cries into the meat of his shoulder, clinging to him so tightly you thought you would meld into one.

Ushijima was moaning your name now, enthralled by the way your insides, your outsides clamped onto him, claimed his body for you, and he couldn’t believe he had been nervous about this part of the relationship, you had been perfect every other way…

Your coil snapped suddenly, and your orgasm rippled through you like electricity, and now he was muffling your moans with his tongue down your throat, fingers wrapped firmly around your jaw keeping you in place.

“You came?” He whispered in a gruff voice, now into the space between your breasts, his dick still throbbing and twitching within you. The thrum of yes vibrating through your body brought a grin to his face.

He rose up off your body again so he could look at your eyes, glazed over in a love-drunken haze, and finally, he was no longer concerned but confident - dare you say it, cocky - as he hovered above you.

“Let’s aim for at least twice tonight.”

A promise he kept.

The first time would be a time to remember, in more ways than one.

[charming-mage]

The Search For Marinette Dupain-Cheng

This is my take on my prompt The Search For Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

You know, I always wondered about Marinette taking care of Akumas while overseas. If she takes too long, she’ll scare her loved ones half to death. Can’t rush too much or else she risks losing her miraculous because of it. Since no one is aware of her identity, she doesn’t have anyone to cover for her.  Friends who are unaware of the truth will cover her for so long before they have to fess up.

In salt fics, the class usually doesn’t care where Marinette is on Gotham trips. Here, they give a shit.

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In which Lila messes with some signs and Marinette gets lost when she comes back late (via Kaalki) after dealing with an Akuma attack in France. 

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The two week school field trip in Tokyo was supposed to be an enjoyable experience. There’s booked reservations at classy restaurants, a fancy hotel with a big pool, shows, and tours throughout Tokyo. Lila is most looking forward to the fashion expo. If she doesn’t do something soon, it looks like she’ll miss out on that too. Marinette been missing for two days and Lila is already sick of it. 

All because she miscalculated in a spur of the moment plan.

“Marinetteeee! Where are you,” shouts a crying Alya. The girl spots a few tourists and shoves a flier in their faces. Nino joins in with his own fliers. “Have you seen my friend Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Cutest French girl you’ve ever seen with a heart of gold. So kind she’d innocently help a stranger, unaware they’re a bad guy.” The tourists each give a half hearted ‘no’ before speed walking away.

“Walk faster Lila! Marinette can be anywhere.”

Lila puts on a concerned mask. “Of course.”

All this time wasted just because she moved some signs. 

She hadn’t meant for Marinette to go missing. Only to buy some time so she can guilt trip Adrien to be her partner for the fashion expo. 

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The day before, the class went to a big nature park. It’s notable for its many trails. The deeper you went into the park, the denser the trees are. They all partnered up and to her dismay she got Nathaniel instead of Adrien. The best thing about the artist is that he gets so into drawing the sights he doesn’t notice when she wanders off. It gave her more time to plot how to switch partners with the least amount of fuss.

During one of her secret plotting sessions, she heard a very loud conversation farther down the trail she’s on. Rose shouts for Marinette to not split up, and Marinette screams back a blatant lie about wanting to see a moose in the Relaxation Trial. Also to not expect her for forty minutes. Total hypocrite this girl is. ‘We can only be friends if you stop lying.’ Sure, and it’s okay for only Marinette to lie. Everyone else who does so is bad. Can’t even tell Rose you honestly want to ditch her.

When Lila noticed the Relaxation Trail sign nearby, an idea formed in her head. She ducked into a bush to hide. When Marinette ran into the trail and her map fell out of her bag Lila burst into action. 

It took a little adjustment to the multiple sign post. It wasn’t too hard as the signs on the pole were already a little loose. Just needed to switch the sign that led back to the meetup with the Reflection Trial sign. According to the map, the Reflection one is a winding trial leading to a dead end. Marinette would be forced to walk all the back as the park employees told them it’s easy to get lost if you go off the trial. Aside from putting some sticks on the map, it was left mostly alone as she wanted her rival to use it to get back to base. She may not have liked Marinette, but she didn’t want anything horrible to happen to her.

By the time it got dark, Marinette still hadn’t gotten back to the meetup point. Forty minutes had already flown by. Lila hadn’t noticed as she was trying to convince Adrien to switch partners and tell everyone it was his idea. If Marinette was here the noisy girl would have interfered. 

Rose’s cry of alarm got the others to find out Marinette was missing. The goodie two shoes wasn’t answering Rose’s calls. A quick check near the Relaxation Trial sign revealed Marinette’s map had flown into a bush.

The field trip went downhill from there. 

The police were called. Afterwards, it’s discovered the cameras in that area were down much to Lila’s relief. Even though she feels a bit responsible, she’s not admitting to anything. Even if she did confess, it’s not like it’ll help the police. Doing so will get her in huge trouble and gain scrutiny in her actions from then on. How will telling what she did help find Marinette? It’d be for nothing.

When it comes down to it, Lila’s self preservation is above Marinette’s well being.

Some good fun will keep her mind from unpleasant things. Too bad no one besides Lila is interested in the scheduled events. This is a vacation, so going to a few events is a must. The class just want to spend time searching for Marinette. The transfer student wouldn’t have minded hanging up missing posters or spreading the word. This class takes it to another level.

Every waking moment is spent looking for Marinette. Breaks become a treasured time. They walk many miles each day. Max posts missing posters in Japanese forums. Alya bothers the police for updates. Adrien even got Chole (who stayed in Paris) to pull some strings to get more attention in the local news.

Because of Marinette’s disappearance, they have to stay in groups of at least three. No exceptions. So if Lila wants to do anything, she needs to convince any group she’s in to go with her.

It’s more challenging than expected.

Day 5

"Hey guys, why don’t we take our break inside the museum we were supposed to go to? It has air conditioning and we can look at some stuff for a bit while we’re sitting down.”

“Sorry Lila, I’m not in the mood to admire art.”

“I agree with Nathaniel. Just doesn’t feel right.”

Day 8

“Let’s go on the sightseeing tour. We can look for Marinette while we’re on it.”

“No thanks.”

“Nah, a taxi is better as we can choose where to drive.”

Day 10

“.....my leg injury is acting up. It’s okay to leave me here. I don’t mind.”

“No way Lila. We’re not leaving you alone on a bench outside Universal Studios. What if we lose you too?”

“.............”

Day 11

Lila has had it with these people. Reservations and events have been canceled. Solemn, awkward moping. Refusal to do anything but looking for Marinette. The only event left is the one she’s been most looking forward to: the fashion expo. Through some maneuvering and sneakiness, no one remembered to cancel the expo tickets.

There’s no way in hell she wants to miss this event: a lecture by Edna Mode herself. There’s rumors circling the fashion industry the famous designer is going to explore a new clothing line. Along with finding a muse for it.

The previous class activities can be let go without much struggle. Not this one, though. This could be the golden ticket to a very prestigious job. Even more than being a Gabriel model.

There’s a chance things might go right this time. The group is filled by pushovers Adrien, Rose, and Juleka. As long as she stays firm, they’ll go along with her plan.

With the directions in mind, Lila manages to slyly maneuver the group to walk outside Tokyo Big Sight. The sight of the Edna Mode banners hanging outside the arena fills her with excitement.

Lila coughs for their attention. “Guys, it’s time for our lunch break. We need the energy to keep this up.”

Rose reluctantly says, “Oh you’re right Lila. Can you pass out our lunches please?” 

“Sure thing.” She reaches into the bag and whoops. There’s conveniently no lunch bags in there. “Oh no guys, there’s only water bottles in here.”

“It’s okay Lila, we can buy some food nearby.” Rose digs out her phone. “Hmm... I think there’s a cheap fast food place nearby.”

“There’s no need to look far. We can just go into the expo. They have to have some food near the entrance.”

There’s silence at her words.

Juleka narrows her eyes. “Why do I feel you just want to go to the expo?”

Lila is surprised Juleka of all people is calling her out. “No, no. It’s just, why walk more when there’s food right here.”

“Lila, do you not care about finding Marinette?,” a sad Rose asks.

“How could you say that? Of course I do! We worked so hard and we deserve a break. Marinette would understand.”

Rose snaps. “Understand? Every minute counts! We might never see Marinette ever again. She could be injured and alone, kidnapped, or worse! If one of us was missing, she wouldn’t give up.”

The fire in Rose’s eyes startles Lila. Never thought she’d see the bubbly girl break her happy persona. 

“No one said anything about giving up. Besides, the police are looking-”

“That doesn’t mean we should sit by and do nothing.” Rose tears up. “It’s my fault Marinette is gone. If I didn’t let her run off on her own, she would still be here.”

Juleka gives a comforting hug to Rose. 

Adrien speaks up. “I know you don’t like Marinette, but I never thought you would sink so low. It’s one thing if you’re not interested in helping. It’s another to actively interfere in something our friends care about.”

“I d-d-o care. We can pick up search after we eat.” It’s not like Lila wanted to prevent them from searching for Marinette. Ms. Bustier has forbidden anyone from being on their own. So she needed someone to be with her in order to do something. 

Lila spent so much time reassuring them, they missed the lecture.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“---Breaking News! A French teenager stopped a missile launch by terrorists. Marinette Dupain-Cheng went missing during her class’ field trip. Miraculously, she disabled their base of operations, rescued a Princess, fought against pirates, escaped on the back of a deer, got their leader to surrender to the authorities-”

“That’s our every day Ladybug.” Alya hugs the TV with tears of joy. “Obviously she’d save the day while missing.” The reporter actually hissed when a stranger tried to tell her to stop hogging the TV. No one attempted removing her after that.

Since Ms. Bustier is currently with the police to bring Marinette back, there’s no one to reign in the partying classmates. Alix somehow convinced the hotel to give them a big complementary celebration cake. 

The only person not celebrating is an angry Lila. Glaring at her phone, the headlines riles her up every time she sees it.

Edna Mode’s First Baby Fashion Line

The Inspiration Behind the New Designs

“My godson is my inspiration-”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack-Jack is Edna’s muse. Lol.

To save you a google search, this park mentioned in this fic is made up. It’s based on a bunch nature parks I’ve been to before. Tokyo does have parks and nature trials, though. In case you missed it, an attack happened in the late afternoon and Marinette got back at night (when it got dark) in Japan Standard Time. Keep in mind there is a 8 hour difference between these countries.

With this completed, I can finish chapter two of Dupont’s Worst Nightmare. :)

[hungry-tum-stuff]

Lanayru Region - Zora’s Domain

Breath of the Wild Regional Food Series - Part Four

Description: After helping them conquer Vah Ruta, the Zora are more than grateful and decide to throw a feast in Link’s honor. Link over-indulges quite a bit, but Sidon is quite impressed by how much the hero can eat.

Includes: Hunger, Stuffing, Stomach rubbing, Touch-Starved Link, Ambiguously Platonic Link and Sidon interactions

//TW: Descriptions of hunger, descriptions of stuffing-induced stomachaches, Themes of Touch Starvation

Link had conquered Vah Ruta.

It hadn’t been easy, it had taken long enough to disable the beast, and even longer to navigate the inside and slay the Blight Ganon that had taken Mipha’s life. Such an ordeal had left him eager to return to Zora’s Domain, for more than one reason.

The biggest reason currently being food.

Food was practically the only thing he could think about after freeing Mipha’s spirit. With the adrenaline and rush of memories of his friend now passed, he quickly became acutely aware of the empty hole in his gut. Spending nearly a day disabling a Divine Beast and fighting a Blight Ganon had left him starving. He wasn’t doing a great job at hiding it, either.

“Link! My dearest friend, you did it! You are truly a hero among Hylians, a true- oh, goodness, you’re not injured, are you? You don’t look well” Sidon fussed, worriedly standing over Link as he got his footing after being teleported to safety by Vah Ruta.

Link just shook his head in reassurance as he took a shaky step towards Sidon. However, he wasn’t as alright as he’d thought, because his knees buckled as soon as he tried to walk. Sidon immediately caught him and stood him upright again, before kneeling down to Link’s level to inspect him.

‘Wounds were healed by Mipha, I’m fine’ He signed slowly, and Sidon looked at him, baffled for a moment.

“My sister healed you? But, how-“ He was cut off by a low growling sound, and as Link clapped two hands on his tummy, Sidon instantly knew what the problem was. His previous confusion was replaced by laughter, and Link’s face turned a bright red. “So that’s why you’re so light on your feet. You must be starving! Not to worry though, I knew you’d be hungry after your victory. So I had the domain prepare something special for you” He insisted, taking Link’s hand gently and leading him into Zora’s Domain. Link followed along, Sidon hadn’t exactly given him a choice, but he found it a little hard to keep up with the prince’s long strides now that his exhaustion was finally catching up to him.

Sidon led Link into the throne room where that ‘something special’ had been set up, and as soon as Link saw what it was he stopped in his tracks, absolutely stunned.

It was a feast. A huge table was laid out before him, covered end-to-end in tons of different fish prepared tons of different ways. Not to mention all the bread, pasta, and rice dishes. Link’s stomach could only groan longingly, aching a bit as he gawked at the feast. He winced and clutched his belly before looking up to Sidon and quickly signing: ‘For me?’

Sidon laughed again. “Of course it’s for you! We very well can’t let our champion leave the domain without a proper reward for his victory. I’d also feel rather awful if I wasn’t able to remedy that empty stomach of yours” Link’s face flushed once again, but he simply kept a hand on his tummy as he was ushered towards a seat. Prince Sidon sat beside him, and King Dorephan regarded them both with a nod.

“Welcome back, champion”

~~~

After King Dorephan gave a rather lengthy speech of thanks to both Link and Sidon, which was almost torture for Link to sit through politely while his stomach was practically begging him to dig into the food right in front of him, the King finally declared that the feast commence.

And Link wasted no time in filling his plate to the brim and scarfing down every last crumb. The other Zora, which Link could only assume was every single Zora in the domain judging by the size of the feast, watched in awe as the Hylian champion chowed down on a hearty bass, and then immediately reached for another helping. In fact, Link was in such a rush to eat that he hadn’t even bothered to use the cutlery laid out for him.

However, Sidon couldn’t help but find Link’s lack of table manners somewhat endearing. Link had been an expectation breaker from the very beginning: Ever since he was a child he’d been told stories of the silent, stoic knight that had fought alongside his sister, but never in a thousand years had he expected that knight to be a Hylian barely taller than most Zora children, or that his silent exterior masked someone incredibly silly and unrefined.

Link wasn’t what Sidon had expected, and that’s what made Sidon endlessly interested in him.

“You ought to slow down, my friend” Sidon interrupted as Link reached to fill his plate with a third heaping serving. But as Link bent over the table, Sidon couldn’t help but notice a new roundness pressing against the stretchy material of Link’s Zora Armor. Link just paused mid-way through filling his plate and looked up confusedly at Sidon, who was still eyeing his companion’s tummy. “Zora portions are traditionally far larger than Hylian portions, and I’d hate for you to give yourself an upset stomach…” He warned.

Link just frowned and continued to pile food onto his plate before setting it down and signing: ‘Still hungry.’

Sidon chuckled and nodded, leaning over to get a second serving of his own. “Very well then, eat to your heart’s content. You’ve certainly earned it”

At that, Link beamed and continued to eat his fill. It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third serving that he began slowing down a bit, and he was clearly struggling through the last couple bites until his plate was clean. As soon as it was, Link could only sit back in his seat with a sigh, one hand slowly creeping up to rest on his overfull tummy. Sidon finished his own meal before stealing a glance at Link and noticing just how distended his belly had become, and he gave a quiet laugh as Link met the prince’s eyes for a moment before looking away abashedly.

“You finished three plates of food? That’s incredible! I don’t even think I would be able to finish three servings of hearty bass without blowing up like a pufferfish” He marveled. Link’s face reddened when the prince pointed out just how much he’d eaten, and when he hiccuped as his stomach settled around the massive amount of food, Sidon just raised an eyebrow. “Although, it seems like you’ve gained a rather, hm, prominent middle after eating so much… Will your stomach be alright?”

Link just nodded and patted his belly assuredly, but as he did, his stomach roiled into a sharp cramp before grumbling unhappily. Link grunted and pressed both hands into his stomach, and Sidon worriedly set a hand on the Hylian’s shoulder.

“I’m not so sure you’re right dear friend, it seems like you’ve overdone it… Is your stomach upset?” He asked. Link tensed up as another gurgle tore through his stomach, and he nodded slowly before holding a finger to his lips and motioning to the other Zora at the table. He’d like to at least try to maintain a positive image with the people of the domain, and eating himself into a stomachache after they had been kind enough to throw him a feast didn’t seem like the best way to uphold his reputation. Sidon, somewhat misunderstanding the message, gave a bright smile and a thumbs-up in reply.

“Excuse us everyone, but our champion is quite exhausted after the events of today. I’ll be taking my leave to see him off to his chambers” Link’s face reddened even more as Sidon’s announcement drew the attention of the entire table, but thankfully nobody dared to comment on his noticeable gut as he stood from the table with Sidon. He was just bombarded with profuse good-byes and thank-you’s as he left with the prince.

‘Not very subtle.’ Link commented on their exit with a huff, and Sidon just tilted his head.

“Well, neither is that belly of yours.” Sidon quipped, causing Link to lay both of his hands back on his tummy, as if he were trying to hide it. “I apologize though, I wasn’t aware you wanted me to be subtle. I however, do want you to get some rest. And hopefully we can find a way to settle your stomach before you turn in for the night” Sidon insisted as he led Link into his bedchamber. Link would have just collapsed onto the bed, if he wasn’t cradling his swollen stomach like a mother would a baby. He opted to climb carefully onto the mattress, and when Sidon didn’t leave but instead sat at the foot of the bed, he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I can leave if you wish, but I believe I can help soothe your stomach a bit. It does sound rather unhappy…” Link flinched and let a small whine slip out as his stomach rumbled and contracted painfully around his huge meal, and he slowly nodded in agreement before removing his hands from his tummy. Sidon nodded back, and soon enough his large, scaled hand had taken the place of Link’s.

“Oh my, everything is really packed in there!” Sidon exclaimed as he began to rub in slow, small circles around Link’s firm belly. Link blushed, looking away before raising his hands up to sign to Sidon.

‘You don’t need to remind me.’

Sidon chuckled and shook his head. “I suppose I don’t. I think it’s a bit amusing though, you just completed a feat that not even I could imagine accomplishing on my own, but the celebratory feast is what has you bedridden”

Link didn’t sign anything in response to that, but he did sigh with relief as Sidon was able to loosen a rather painful knot in his belly, followed by a few busy grumbles. As Sidon continued, Link found himself slowly easing into the touch and the slow, soothing motion of the other’s hand on his belly, and the comfortable silence lulled him into a state of relaxation he hadn’t felt since he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection.

‘This feels really nice, thank you.’ Link signed before letting his eyes fall shut. Sidon smiled as his hand smoothed over a particularly tight area, releasing a chorus of rumbles. Both of the boys paused upon hearing the sudden noises, but Sidon gave Link’s stomach a gentle, reassuring pat before continuing to rub his overfull belly in slow, soothing circles.

“You don’t need to thank me, my champion”