#the only thing special about him is the blue eye filter they put on him

[arabella-s-arts]

One of the plots in Ugly Betty season 1 is that there is a beautiful black woman better suited for a job than the white guy who only got it because his dad gave it to him, and she is trying to steal the job away from him. And somehow, in all of this, we are supposed to root for the nepotism baby.

[colettebronte]

Presumptuous, Chapter 8

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Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony has a surprise in store for this, their final day and night together in paradise

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ as always for the overall fic. Aside from a few makeouts, there are no real warnings for this chapter. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s Note: Thank you as always to @fayes-fics for continuing to be the best beta and sounding board for my crazy ideas

Ch 8: (Day and) Night 5: A Small Boat and Snorkeling

You stare at his sleeping form, certain your eyes are playing tricks on you in the dim early morning light that filters in through the curtains. You carefully reach out and brush his hair off his forehead. 

Anthony mumbles something unintelligible, pulling you back into his arms. You snuggle against his chest as he murmurs in your ear, “It’s far too early. Sleep now, talk later.” 

And so you do.

Hours later you wake up alone on the daybed, the room now bathed fully in sunlight from the pulled-back curtains. Sitting up, you brush aside a blanket that had not been there when you last fell back asleep. You hear a door open and close and then Anthony approaches with a tray laden with breakfast. He sets it down on a table opposite the daybed and proceeds to pour orange juice into glasses from a carafe.

His hair is damp and he’s dressed in a white knit polo and blue and white-striped shorts, decidedly not what he was wearing the night before.

He notices you studying him and says, “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed one of your room cards so I could pop back to mine, grab a change of clothes and then return. I also took a brief detour to the Front Desk to get the ball rolling on setting things up for us today.”

You take a glass of juice and then after a few sips say, “I don’t understand. We don’t spend our days together.”

That soft look you’ve come to adore so much is back on his face as he sits beside you. “If you’d prefer to spend the day on your own, that is of course your right but I thought as this is your last full day and night here, we could spend it doing something special, together.”

You take one of his hands in yours and entwining your fingers together say, “I’d love to spend my final day here with you. What did you have in mind?”

He’s about to answer you when his phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out and smiles apologetically before standing to answer it.

He paces as he talks, and from his side of the conversation you glean that you’ll be heading out shortly to meet a car that will take you to a nearby marina. He ends the call and returns to join you on the bed, popping a grape into his mouth as he takes your hand.

Furrowing your brow you ask him, “You're renting us a boat for the day?”

Anthony shakes his head as he uncovers a dish of scrambled eggs. “No. It’s my boat. I was just making sure the crew would be ready to sail once we arrive.”

You gape at him. “You own a boat?”

Anthony nods, seemingly unfazed by your surprise. “Just a small one.”

**********

Forty-five minutes later you’re heading out the door to meet the car that’s set to take you to the marina. You’re wearing your swimsuit under your clothes and carrying a sweater, which Anthony insisted you might need for when the sun sets.

Ever the gentleman, Anthony helps you into the car, a limo, before sliding in after you. As the car gets off the property and on the road, you stare out the window, admiring the scenery as it flies by, leaning against Anthony who is a comfortable weight beside you.

Soon enough you’re at the marina. Anthony helps you out and then you can only stare at the boats docked in the individual slips. Taking your hand, he tugs you down the long wooden dock, as the boats, all grand and expensive, increase in size the further along you walk.

Anthony slows as you approach a small crew, well-dressed in neat uniforms, all immaculately pressed. They stand at attention in front of a mid-sized yacht. 

You yank on Anthony’s hand and whisper furiously, “I thought you said it was a small boat!”

Anthony looks at you in surprise. “It is. Look at it compared to some of the others.”

You scrub your free hand down your face. “It’s a yacht.”

Anthony shrugs. “Yes. A small one.”

You huff out a laugh as Anthony introduces you to the captain and crew. They board the boat ahead of you as you take note of the name, emblazoned in purple and green lettering.

“Hyacinth?”

Anthony smiles softly. “I named her after my baby sister.”

You tuck into his arm as you walk up the ramp to enter the boat. How can one man be so smoldering one moment and then so sweet the next?

**********

You’ve been enjoying the sun and light breeze off the ocean as you lie on a towel at the front of the boat. With your head cradled in your arms, you watch as the boat navigates through a series of small islands before slowing to drop anchor in a secluded cove.

You roll over to see Anthony, dressed in just his swim shorts, bounding down the steps to join you, two pairs of snorkeling masks and fins in his hands.

He sets them down and then helps you to stand, tugging you close in an embrace and then sealing his mouth over yours in a fiery kiss. Kicking off your sandals, you stretch up on your tiptoes to push further against his lips, pressing in to mingle your tongue with his.

When you break apart, Anthony tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear before bending down to retrieve the snorkeling gear. You put on the fins and then Anthony helps you adjust your mask. 

Before he puts his on, he gestures to the cove and says, “This is the perfect spot to view the sea turtles. Just take care and give them space.” You nod as you adjust your breathing tube and then you’re following his lead as he jumps off the boat and into the water. 

He treads water and waits patiently as you get used to using the fins in the water. When you’re satisfied you have the hang of it, you nod and then he takes your hand, gently leading you a few feet away from the boat and then under the water.

Anthony lets go of your hand and as your eyes adjust to the crystalline blue surrounding you, you can’t help but feel at peace. You realize you’re in relatively shallow water, with the sand just a few feet below you. Anthony gestures for you to follow and so you do.

And so you spend the morning amongst schools of brightly-colored fish, seagrasses and the occasional sea turtle. Whenever you’re unsure of where to go, Anthony is there beside you, gently guiding you in the right direction.

The sun is high in the sky when Anthony pulls off his mask and leads you under a waterfall and into a small cave. He stands and tugs off his fins, placing them on an outcropping of rocks, a few inches above the waterline. You do the same with your gear.

Anthony leans back against the rocks and you hop up to wrap your legs around his waist, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“This place is amazing,” you murmur against his skin.

Anthony turns his face and presses a kiss into your cheek. “It’s my favorite place. I knew you’d love it too.”

“I do,” you tell him and then say without thinking, “I’m sure your other clients liked it here too.”

Anthony pulls back from you, placing two fingers under your chin to look up at him. “I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he says solemnly. “I swear it, you’re the first and only.”

Something warms inside your chest as you rest your head back against his shoulder.

**********

After a delicious lunch of fresh-caught seafood on the boat, you spend the rest of the afternoon swimming. Just before sunset, you return to the marina. As you exit down the gangway, you take Anthony’s hand, warm and reassuring. You look up at him as you walk towards the car. 

“Thank you for a lovely day,” you pause and then add, “A lovely week, really. I think it’s safe to say this is the most memorable holiday I’ve ever taken.”

Anthony smiles and then lets go of your hand to open the car door for you. After you’ve both slid in he says enigmatically, “Oh, the day is not over yet.”

**********

Back at the resort, you briefly part ways to go back to your rooms to shower and change. Soon enough, Anthony is back at your door, a large wicker picnic basket cradled in the crook of one of his arms.

Rather than sit in your cabana, you decide to dine al fresco, on the beach. You help Anthony unfold a large white picnic blanket and then sit as he insists on preparing the rest himself. 

And so you sit in companionable silence, eating good food and sharing a bottle of excellent wine as the sky gives way from pink to orange and then dark blue to jet black, dotted with stars.

You rub your hands over your shoulders as the breeze off the ocean picks up and Anthony drapes your sweater over your shoulders. Sighing, you press into his side as he lays back to bring you with him and then you’re both lying flat on the picnic blanket, hand-in-hand. He brings your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss into your knuckles. You roll your head to the side and study his profile in the moonlight.

His eyes are closed, smiling softly. After the revelations from his past that he shared with you the previous evening, you wonder how often he’s felt this content. You roll over on top of him and wrap your arms around his neck, looking down to study him for a few moments.

You breathe out a sigh and then say quietly, “Why are you an Escort? You own a yacht.”

Eyes still closed, Anthony smiles wryly, “Just a small one.”

You click your tongue and roll off of him. In a warning tone, you say, “Anthony, I’m being serious.”

He sits up. “As am I. Why are you asking me this now?”

You hug your knees. “It’s just that, this week has been truly wonderful and I know, if I weren’t paying you, you never would have given me the time of day.”

Anthony whips his head up to stare at you. “You are an amazing woman. Of course I would have.”

You shake your head. “The night we met at the bar. We were absolutely vibing and then the moment I asked you to join me, everything changed. You clearly wanted nothing to do with me. And then, when Bess told me you were an Escort, I got it. You thought I couldn’t afford you and didn’t want to waste any more time with me. And I saw all the well-dressed, obviously wealthy women you did talk to or danced with that night,” you take a breath to add, “And the woman you ultimately went upstairs with.”

Blinking away tears you didn’t realize were there, you quickly stand and head back inside, not wishing to humiliate yourself further. But Anthony is right on your heels.

“That isn’t why I . . .” He pauses, placing his hands on his hips and then paces as you sink down on the daybed.

Continuing to pace, he says, “I am certain Bess wasn’t working that night. The only hostess I saw was . . . .” He stops pacing to stare at you. He huffs out a laugh and mutters, “Of course.”

You sit up, planting your feet on the floor. “What?”

Anthony sighs and then sits down beside you on the daybed. After a moment, he takes your hand. “It’s unimportant, truly.”

You pull your hand away. “I don’t think it is. Why do I get the feeling there are still things you’re not telling me?”

Anthony looks stricken and you instantly feel bad. You take his hand back, entwining your fingers. “I’m sorry,” you start. “I have no right to make demands of you like this. We agreed on what this was going to be when we started, Anthony No Last Name.”

He squeezes your hand. “That we did, Y/n No Last Name. But that doesn’t mean things can’t change.”

And you know, deep inside yourself that they have. This man and his many contradictions has thoroughly changed your life in just one short week. You had arrived at the resort stuck in a rut, absolutely hopeless about your future and so closed off to the idea of love. And now, when you leave, you’ll be stepping into a new life with all sorts of possibilities and as you’ve discovered, a desire to find someone to care for and who loves you just as much in return.

It’s just a shame, it can’t be this man.

Now resolved to end on a high note, you stand, pulling Anthony up with you. “Thank you so much for everything, not just for today but for what you’ve shown me this week and all the things we’ve done together.”

Anthony sighs. “So we’re really just going to say goodbye now? I can spend the night, if you’d like me to.”

You glance around your room. “As much as I like the idea of that. I think it’s time we settle up and then I need to pack.”

Anthony nods and then pulls out his phone. You reach into the pocket of your sweater and grab yours. You exchange numbers and then you send your payment. He stares down at his phone and once it pings, he shoves it back into his pocket. You place yours down on the table next to the daybed.

Without warning, Anthony sweeps you up into his arms and into a passionate kiss, his mouth moving against yours in desperation. You wrap your legs around his waist as he falls back to sit on the daybed. You breathe in each other’s air and kiss, bodies and tongues entwined.

After a while you break apart, but you remain in his lap, head resting against his chest.

“I don’t want to leave,” he says softly.

“Stay a while longer,” you murmur.

And so, he does.

taglist: @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @faye-tale @cosmiclove330 @abridgerton @fiction-is-life @kmc1989 @alexandrainlove @ietss @itsyagirlmeee @multi-fandom-lover7667 @turtle-cant-communicate @liliac-dreamer @daphne-daisy @hottytoddyhistory @queenofmean14 @syraxnyra @chelseyyouraverageluigi @jtheteenagewitch

[sterling-501]

𝐻𝓎𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈

SUMMARY: It’s late at night on the Marauder, the ship sliding quietly through Hyperspace, but Hunters thoughts are so loud, doubt and fear clouding his mind. Luckily you’re there to comfort him the way he needs.

(HunterxJediFemReader)

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

The Marauder hung silently through the blue tunnel of hyperspace, the faint buzz of the ship's engine filtered through the still ship. You felt safe here, filtered amongst your fellow troopers and their new found adopted little sister…or older you should say.

You lay on the plush mattress of your bunk, facing towards a small slit window that pooled blue luminescent hyperspace. Even with your eyes closed, blue and white seeped through your eyelids, you found it kind of comforting really. Another thing that you found comforting was the sergeant that lay next to you, his frame slotted against yours. Since you joined the Batch after Order 66, filling the absent void of Crosshair, there weren’t enough bunks for you all to each claim your own and after an insufferable amount of insisting on Hunter’s end, the Sergeant had persuaded you that sharing a bunk with him wouldn't be a problem. So here you were, months later laying next to dark and broody. Of course the tension was awkward the first couple nights you both slept next to one another, but as Cid’s missions wore on, both of you grew too tired to really care.

There were times where you both would wake up in eachothers arms, whether that would be your head laying on his chest or vise versa, tangled legs or his frame swallowing yours from behind, his arm lazily drooping over your waist. It became the norm, and the relationship between you and Hunter grew, you both finding solace in one another. You, a former Commander of your now fallen battalion and him a Sergeant. The two of you understood each other, the mounting pressure of lives being on your shoulders, making the right calls and people judging you for making said calls. Not only was it the position you both found relatability on, it was the fact you both could sense things that no one else could. You both could recognize when something was wrong, you with your Jedi abilities and him with his enhanced senses. Words weren’t needed when it came to comforting one another, there were no ‘what’s wrong’s’ or ‘are you okays’, just acknowledgement and action.

The hum of the ship lulls you to sleep but not before you feel the subtle shift of the mattress moving underneath you. Hunter was a restless sleeper at best, his body never seeming to rest even when it needed to. You suddenly feel his force signature waver from distress to hesitance causing your brow to stitch together in concern. But before you can acknowledge and act like you usually do, you feel his hand snake along your waist.

“c’mere” he rumbles as he pulls you in towards his chest. You smile to yourself at the sudden conscious affection, a rarity that he gives to only you and Omega..it made you feel special if you were going to be honest. “What are we stressing about this time, hm?’ you say as you roll on your side to face him, his hand resting on your hip as his other arm rests underneath his head. He hesitates, looking at you but not really, his thoughts clouding his vision as he gets lost in them, and you let him. You’ve learnt that pushing doesn’t help when it comes to Hunter, he rushes and overthinks his feelings to the point where they just become small and irrelevant to him, which you remind him constantly that they're not. “Just because your job is to put people first does not mean you have to do that with me” you once told him and thankfully that stuck.

“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing…with any of this” he says after a moment of silence. You gaze up at him, resting your hand on his bicep as a comfort, gently rubbing your thumb along his clothed skin. “We can’t trust Cid but I don’t know where else we can go, or how else we could get by” he continues, his gaze shifting between you and the space in between your bodies. You stay quiet knowing there’s more, sensing there’s more he wants to say, he looks back to you with a worry etched face, his brows furrowed “Omega deserves better than what I'm giving her” and right there your heart breaks. You know that he wants nothing more than to provide anything and everything he can for the young clone, and to think that he feels that his love isn’t enough shatters your entire being. You reach your hand up and rest it on his cheek, gently soothing his under eye bags “Hunter, you’re everything she needs” you say, your voice laced with soft conviction “Crosshair said to stop pretending to be something i’m not and i-”

“forget what Crosshair said '' you gently interrupted him “you have made all the right calls, we’re all alive aren’t we?” He looks at you but says nothing, you can practically see the cogs in his head turning “you’ve made every decision with your squads best interest at heart, especially with Omega” You move your hand from his cheek to his chest, placing your palm over where his heart is “you followed this” you say softly, and then placed your hand back up to the scar on his temple where his chip once was “not this, and that’s all that matters” There’s a moment of silence as your words hang in the air, your gaze unwavering as his focuses on the empty space between you both. “She’s just a kid…I just want her to be okay” You snake your hand down to rest in the crook of his neck “and she will be, because she has you” Hunter looks back up at you, the expression painted across his face is one you’ve seen so many times before, it’s one of recognition, realisation and acceptance.

The Sergeant overthinks everything, wanting every decision to be the right one, you know him like the back of your hand and right now you know that he has realised that wherever he has gone, Omega has followed willingly. And if he can trust himself enough, he can trust the fact that she’s going to be okay.

Hunter stares at you for a while longer, taking you in as you gaze back. “You have a way with words you know that right?” Hunter states, his voice breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. Your cheeks dust red at his words as you raise your hand in front of his face “it’s just my amazing jedi mind tricks” you mock, wiggling your fingers in front of his face playfully, giggling as you do so. Hunter chuckles softly as he grabs your hand and places a soft kiss on your fingers “thank you” he mumbles against your fingers, squeezing your hand tightly. Your breath hitches slightly before you manage to respond coherently “always” your voice just above a whisper, the hoods of your eyes drooping as sleep starts to pull at your eyelids. Hunter notices and smiles to himself as he pulls you closer, your head moving to rest on his chest as he rolls onto his back.

“I’m glad to have met you Hunter” you say quietly before sleep fully numbs your bones, “i’m glad to have met you too” he says softly, those being the last words you hear before you fall asleep.

[a-casual-kpopfan]

CCDI-0402 : Pet - Chuu

You guys asks, so I have answered.

A little collaboration @shinyaharu98 and I have written out, special thanks to him for working on this with me and give his new series LoonaTheHarem a read!~

Enjoy this!

“I’m not falling for it this time, Jiwoo.”

Your adorable girlfriend Kim Jiwoo asked you to join her for another special ChuuCanDoIt shoot once again. Memories of what happened last time still lingers on, you don’t want to get blue balled again.

“I swear to God, Jiwoo. This better be just a normal episode of you picking up trash or something.” You exclaimed but knowing that she is into some kinky stuff lately, it might just be impossible for this to just be a normal one.

“I’m not telling you what today’s theme is, it’s a surprise!” Jiwoo answered your question with her signature smile.

Cute.

“But it’s going to be different than last time, I promise.” She ensured. “And the only one I would like try this is you anyway…”

Jiwoo bites her lips subconsciously, as she is brainstorming about what is going to happen. You also have no idea what she has in store for you this time, but thanks to experience from last time’s event, you thought NOTHING can surprise you anymore.

But then, Jiwoo handed over a blindfold.

“Wh… Why are you giving me this?”

“Oppa, just wear it while I change, okay? I don’t want to give you any spoilers.”

With no options available, you put on the blindfold reluctantly. You vision turned into pitch black.

“Good boy~” Jiwoo’s voice deepened, leaning into your ear as she praised you. It’s almost like she switched into a different persona when needed, did she have DID or something?

With your vision impairment, your sense of hearing is heightened. You heard a zipping noise coming in front of you, and then it hits you. She is removing her clothing right in front of you. A million images sparked inside your brain, as the only thing you can do right now is imagine.

Imagine your petite girlfriend just casually stripping in front of you.

Imagine her perfect idol body just being presented to you without any filter.

“Oppa… What are you thinking about? Does the thought of me stripping turns you on that much?” Jiwoo grinned then bites her lips, knowing that you are that easy to read.

“I’m… I’m not getting turned on!” You refused to acknowledge you might just be a pervert who gets turned on just by imagination.

But she knows. She knows what exactly you are.

“You are saying that, but your body is more honest, you know? I can see your cock is getting bigger and bigger…”

Jiwoo began to remove your clothing, piece by piece. She is taking it slowly, as if she is slowly torturing you with pleasure but no way to release it. The tingling sensation kept coming as her skilled hands worked its way from your chest, giving your nipples a little lick and finally your crotch.

Finally, your entire body is completely naked in front of Jiwoo.

No matter how many times Jiwoo has seen your thick and veiny cock, she is still amazed by it like the first time she saw it.

“It is just as big and thick like the last time I saw it… Oppa, you leacher.” Her eyes twinkled with joy. “You must have fantasized about me during your free time, haven’t you? So, tell me… What do you want me to do?”

What you need the most right now is her. You yearn for her gentle yet skillful touch, her fragrance and warmth from her body, her cheerful yet surprisingly lewd expression. You yearn for her EVERYTHING.

“I… I want you to touch me, Jiwoo.” You start off with a mild request.

“Is that so? Fine, I’ll do it. Last time I told you to do it yourself, this time I’ll do the work for you. Be grateful alright?”

Jiwoo began to stroke your cock; the sensation is totally different than doing it yourself. Plus, the pleasure has been intensified significantly since you are not able to see anything. But you can hear Jiwoo is starting to moan as well. Seeing your cock with such vigor flipped her switch, she didn’t let her other hand be idle. On one hand she is stroking your cock, on the other she is rubbing her clitoris to release her pent-up lust.

As both of you are immersed in pleasure, Jiwoo did something that she knew you would react to. She leaned over your ear and whispered.

“Oppa… Your cock is so energetic… I want you to fill my insides with your thick rich cum… Release all of it inside me please~”

Her naughty words pleading for a creampie sex made your imagination runs wild, further pushing you towards your limit.

“Jiwoo… I’m about to cum!” Jiwoo responded by speeding up her stroking motion while moaning louder into your ear.

“Let it all out oppa! Release all your sperm for me!”

As you couldn’t hold it back anymore, Jiwoo suddenly stopped.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… You don’t really think I ACTUALLY mean that right, oppa?” She sneered.

Naturally, you shouted with anger.

“Jiwoo! What the fuck are you doing?? I’m almost there! It’s like the last time all over again, you know how painful that is to me?”

“All in good time oppa, all in good time. But now...”

Before you could say anything, Jiwoo cuffed your hands behind and put a collar on your neck. She then proceeds to remove your blindfold, and then the first thing came into your field of view is a pink sofa. It felt like déjà vu as you swore you seen this sofa before, but you just can’t recall where exactly you’ve seen this.

That is until Jiwoo appeared in front of you.

You thought she was naked the entire time, but no. Your deductions were completely wrong.

She is wearing a white dress with a black corset-like fabric across her waist, which further accentuates her slim figure. Whoever designed this shirt might be just a perverted genius because it is basically a see-through dress with holes all over it.

“Wait a minute, isn’t this the dress from…”

“Yes, from the & album shoot. I know. I nicked it as a souvenir when I got out from BBC.”

“What else did you stole from them??”

“The big apple from my solo music video shoot, but that’s not the point, oppa! Stop changing the subject!” Jiwoo continued. “On today’s episode of ChuuCanDoIt, we are going to learn about obedience!”

“Obedience?”

“That’s right, oppa! To do that, you will be my pet for the day! And I will be your master!” She seems more excited than her usual self. But in an instant, her eyes changed. Her gaze became serious, like she is ready to go all out.

“And from now on, you will do exactly what I say and when I say it. You can only cum when I allow you to, understand?”

Shocked by the sudden transition, only two words uttered from your mouth.

“Yes master.”

“Good boy.” Jiwoo seems satisfied when she asserted her dominance. “Now lie down on the floor, and only speak when I allow you to.”

You never knew that you have this kind of fetish before. But being dominated and controlled by your bewitching girlfriend with such a controlling persona, you couldn’t lie to yourself but to admit she’s pretty hot.

A hidden switch inside your brain flipped, so you fully immersed into your character. A mere pet whose only purpose is to obey every single command by your master: Kim Jiwoo.

Your member turned flaccid, as the feeling of desire faded away just now. But Jiwoo knows how to turn you back on, she is your girlfriend after all, she is probably the one that knows all about you. Your preferences, your kinks, your fetishes and so on.

As you were laying down on the floor, Jiwoo stepped above you, leaving you the sight of what’s underneath her white dress. And just like last time, she isn’t wearing underwear beneath. But this time you are finally able to set her private parts for the first time. Her hairless vagina coated with arousal fluid from before, glistening under the studio lights.

“I waxed it last night just to prepare for this. This better be worth it.”

Before you could take a closer look at her vagina, Jiwoo planted herself in your face, filling your face and mouth with her lower parts.

“Lick it.” Jiwoo ordered. She began to grind herself onto you, reducing you down to just a tool for her to use and enjoy.

But being an obedient pet, it’s in your nature that you want to serve your master. You want her to feel pleasure like never before, and this is your only purpose.

Without any hesitation, you greedily lick and twirl your tongue inside Jiwoo’s vagina. Saliva mixed in with her love fluids creates a slushy sound as you show no signs of stopping, or even slowing down.

“Ah yes…that really hits the spot~ Faster, faster!”

Clearly you managed to hit all her weak spots, she responded with flurries of spasms and moans.

“You’re such a good boy~ Maybe I should give you a reward after this… Ahhh…”

A reward? That is not even the incentive for you to keep going. The real incentive for you to lick harder and harder is the reaction Jiwoo gave you. She closed her eyes to further enjoy the sensation you provided, her mouth gasping for air as she continues to rub even more vigorously than before.

“Ahh…I think I will cum from your mouth!” She accelerates as she reaches her peak.

“I’m cumming… I’m cumming!”

Unlike Jiwoo who denies your orgasm, you continued to like her labia and clitoris until she reaches a euphoric state. Streams of fluid gushed out from her holes, but you swallowed it all diligently.

Salty.

Jiwoo was impressed that you managed to devour all her juices.

“Haah… Did you drink it all up already? Good boy! I would have punished you if you let it all to waste.”

She finally detached her nether regions from your face, leaving you a window of opportunity to finally take a breather.

“Is …is it over?” You asked.

But instead of getting an answer, Jiwoo stared coldly at you.

“Who gave you the permission to talk, pet? That is merely a warmup.”

Uh oh. You gulped.

“Now for the main event…” She diverted her attention to your already erect shaft.

All her moans, her dirty talk and body movements from before igniting the primal instinct inside you. Although you are now immobilized, your cock responded accordingly and became sturdier than ever before.

Jiwoo removed her dress to avoid it getting in her way. Her idol body presented in front of you without any filter, it’s even better than you could have imagined.

She recently dyed her hair brown, which really accentuates her light skin tone. She doesn’t use a lot of heavy makeup, instead she went with a more natural look. Her breasts are not the biggest in the bunch compared to other members, but it is still ample enough to stand out on its own.

As you were distracted by her body, Jiwoo lowered herself and slowly inserted your cock inside her.

“잘 먹겠습니다~” = “Thank you for the food~”

As your cock gradually disappear inside her vagina, the pleasurable sensation kept on coming. You can feel her vaginal walls wrapping tightly, as if your cock is molding a shape inside of her.

Finally, her insides engulfed your cock completely.

She is fully in control of everything. You couldn’t even hold her slim waist with your hands, as they are still cuffed from behind.

“Don’t you dare take the lead. I’ll move, alright?” Jiwoo’s voice was deep, the tone is as sultry as ever, you felt yourself growing harder than ever.

She started bouncing on top and making vertical movements, sliding your cock in and out from her soaked vagina. Lubricant is not even being used as both of your private areas are completely drenched in fluids, Jiwoo kept pounding herself while being in the top position.

Her breasts jiggled around, matching her pace as she basically impaled herself with your shaft.

“You are reaching my deepest parts… This feels too good, I’m going crazy!” With your cock still inside her, Jiwoo pressed her body onto yours. You felt her soft breasts squeezing your chest, a sensation that you had never experienced before.

Jiwoo stared into your eyes with a serious yet seductive gaze.

“Open your mouth” She instructed.

You did what she told and opened your mouth. Jiwoo stuck her tongue out, saliva dribbled down from the top of her tongue forming a line and dripped into your mouth. Satisfied, she gave you another command.

“Drink it.”

You gulped down her saliva and showed her your empty mouth.

“Good boy~ You are a fast learner, aren’t you?”

To further claim her throne as your master, she kissed your neck.

Hard.

So hard until it formed a hickey on your neck.

“With this mark on your neck, you belong to me and me only.”

You nodded and stuck your tongue out for more, hoping that she blesses you with her nectar.

But instead of giving you more of her saliva, she gave you a deep kiss. She tangled her tongue with yours, mixing your saliva together. While this is happening, she didn’t even lose her momentum on pounding you. Sensation coming from both ends of her body made it almost impossible to hold back.

“Ya… Are you about to cum? I think I am at my limits too… On the count to 10 we cum together alright?”

Again, you nodded as a signal to her that you are almost there. After being blue balled twice, you finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. You finally can pour your seeds into your girlfriend’s womb.

“10… 9… 8… 7… 6…”

Halfway through the countdown, you can feel her walls constricting even tighter around your cock. The pulsing sensation and heat emanating from her insides added fuel to the fire.

“5… 4… 3… 2…”

As she about to finish the countdown, unexpectedly, Jiwoo came first.

“I’m cumming!!!”

Jiwoo’s body goes into total shock, she collapses on top of you, breathing very heavily. “You’re such… Ha… A good boy…” Once Jiwoo gathered herself, you didn’t say a word more so for the fact you didn’t get to finish… AGAIN. “Eheee. You were such an obedient pet, you deserve a reward.” Jiwoo gave you a big smile before pull out your somewhat hard wood out of her.

“Oh my, it’s slathered in my cum.” Jiwoo says looking down as she’s getting wet again from watching your cock come out of her. “Let’s give you some love now.” Jiwoo crawled down your body, but not without a tease of her body moving on top hers, you feel yourself feeling her body from bottom to top with Jiwoo smirking.

“It’s getting hard again.” Her smirk grows larger with excitement, she is going to give you the best blowjob she can muster. She may be your girlfriend and have done it on several occasions, but you had always wanted to give Jiwoo a good face fuck.

“Tell me baby, where do you want to finish fucking me tonight?” You were given permission to speak, you could only say one word.

“Mouth.”

Jiwoo’s faint smile turns to a large smirk. “Okay baby, anything for you.” Jiwoo gets you to stand up, as she gets on her knees all for you. No time was wasted, horny peach swallowed up the length of you. You kept your mouth shut, though it was hard to not say a word at how good the young vocalist’s mouth was doing you.

“Ah! Is mommy making you feel good, do you want more?” Her smile, the way she’s rubbing you with both her hands, it’s making you harder, hornier. Jiwoo sticks her tongue out, swirling it around over and over again at your exposed tip.

You watch that tongue disappear into her mouth, as well as everything that is attached to your crotch. “Ah fuck!” Jiwoo stays deep throating you, in and out, in and out, in and out, you can feel everything inside her mouth, the tongue, the cheeks and little bit of her uvula.

You couldn’t hold it in yourself anymore, you grabbed Jiwoo’s hair from behind her head making a makeshift ponytail. Her eyes widen, clearly seeing what your intentions are with her, although the look in her eye doesn’t show fear nor is she patting you to spot.

You can read the look in her eyes and slight smile the edges of her lips make.

“Do it.”

She nodded as she starts to fondle your sack to let you know that she wants it. Your lips turn into a smirk, your fantasy of face fucking Jiwoo has finally come to life. You slowly pull away from Jiwoo’s mouth, but not completely. You then push yourself into her mouth, reach as far back as it can reach.

You pulled.

Then pushed.

Pulled.

Pushed.

Each time you pump your cock in and out, the more Jiwoo gags, turning you on the more you hear it. Tears started going down her cheeks, she was choking all over you but still yet to signal you to stop, was this really the results of being a main vocalist?

No matter, Jiwoo’s tongue continued playing with the treat she’s getting to make you come to the edge of your limit. “Fuck Jiwoo, I’m going to cum!” Jiwoo then stopped you moving while she decided to finish this herself, the way her lips wrap around the girth, the way her hands are rubbing your wet and hard cock.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck… Ahhhh…”

You finally finished.

You busted.

Your dong leaked and burst.

“Don’t swallow.”

Jiwoo obeys, letting your cock in her mouth go. You started going soft, but Jiwoo gives you a finishing show, opening her mouth with a pool of your cum. If you hadn’t just busted a nut, you would definitely be hard right now.

Jiwoo pokes her out tongue in the pool of cum, she lets it leak out and drip all over her breasts. She then swallowed whatever was left in her mouth while she spread the droplets around her breasts with her finger tips, making her nipples glisten in the studio light.

“My, my, I thought I would be the one in control.”

Jiwoo sat there, with little puddle formed beneath her.

After all that, she wears a big smile on her face.

[sparkle-d]

waiting game | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x you

summary: in which you switch your phone with daniel's without knowing

tags: falling in love; chatting and messages; kind of enemies to friends to lovers

warnings: insecure reader; f!reader; dumb people

chapter: 4/?

(you: blue/ daniel: orange)

✧.* tag list: @bloodyvalentine93 @organasith @verstappens-hat @idkiwantchocolatee @landhoe @theplobnrgone @iamasimpingh0e @chiliwhore @buendiabebeta @icecoldtiress @holy-macncheese-balls @caosfanblr @cxliforniadream @calmleclerc @hannahholland1811

chapter 4 - beginning

hot stuff said: oh shit

hot stuff said: i just cut my thumb really badly

hot stuff said: don’t ask how

ma fraise said: how.

hot stuff said: i was shaving my hand…

ma fraise said: at the same time that i want to know why you were shaving your hand i’m a little scared to ask

hot stuff said: to have soft hands what else would it be

ma fraise said: idk you are "“kinky

hot stuff said: w-wht

With the blink of an eye, your vacations have come to an end.

You didn’t do anything special with your free time, aside from enjoying your own company and watching the most chick flicks you could. Even with the amount of movies and young adult series you’ve been binge watching, you still have a single and persisting thought inside your brain. You had a conversation with hot stuff a few days ago, the one he mentions about fancying you, at least that’s how you interpreted his text. 

This continues to make you wonder between yes, he made a move on you and no, you’re being delusional. You like hot stuff, his company and to talk with him during your days and nights, but you can’t put your mind to believe that he would find you attractive. Maybe this is the way friends joke around with each other and you’re not used to it because your two best friends are more like your brothers and they would never do something like that. 

It makes you confused.

You didn’t mention this to your best friends because 1. you felt weird about commenting on this kind of stuff with them, when you normally have nothing to comment about so you just don’t talk about it with them. And 2. they know who hot stuff is, and exposing that he made such a move on you is embarrassing.

Pierre and Charles have no filter in this matter, they always mention to you about their partners, people they hook up with and it’s so normal to you, you don’t even mind it anymore. But thinking about opening up about it to them when the issue is on your side, it’s different. They wouldn’t do anything to make you feel ashamed of it, but they definitely would lecture you about not being innocent and naive about things. They would want to protect you like they always do.

The truth is, you never felt desired.

You actually never gave the opportunity for anyone to see you with different eyes; you always tried to hide yourself from everyone, if someone turned heads on you, you would assume they were thinking badly about you. Well, and you’re probably right.

“You’re the ugliest out of all of us.”

You grew up in this reality - the reality that every single cell in your body is hideous. Your hair sometimes covers most of your face, leaving only a small gap for your  eyes to pop out. Your skin feels too hot against your palms, making you think that your touch is feverish. The lines on your face are too deep and that makes you not smile too much, not that you’re someone who often gives away smiles out of nowhere, anyways.

You never felt beautiful.

When Charles and Pierre became your  best friends, the friendship started because they never cared about your appearance. They never judged you for the way you’re, the way you look, or the way you dress - Pierre and Charles never tried to change you. Even though you are a very hard person to have around, in your opinion.

They came into your life and never left.

Your best friends could have anyone around them, they easily make friends without problem. But there’s something they share with you, they’re very anxious people. With you, Charles and Pierre have nothing to worry about. They always say you are a very sincere person, you never lie to them, never hide things from them and would never replace them with someone new.

You feel the same for the both of them, and as years went by, you noticed that now they understand you. They understand that you don't like crowded places, that you like the silence and being alone. Well, you like to be alone with them, mostly. You enjoy watching chick flicks with your best friends, especially because even when things don’t work out in the beginning, in the end, everything is worth it. 

Sometimes you need some positivity inside your brain.

Maybe you should start to believe more in yourself. 

—

Charles takes off the protection on your ears, patting on your shoulders “Oh, I’ve missed having you around.” He gives you a smile, side hugging you “I didn’t see you arrive at the garage today.”

“I got late this morning, you know, I got used to watching the races from my television, so I did not calculate correctly the time I needed to get ready and get here.” You arrived at the paddock late, a coffee in one hand and another holding your notebooks and papers “I ran immediately to check in if everything was right.”

“I bet they are.” Charles says as if you would let him drive in a car that wasn’t in a perfect and safe state “Want to check in with Pierre? I haven’t seen him either and you will go there anyways.”

You nod, checking one last time if everything is okay, making sure you can relax a bit with your friends “Yeah, I was about to head there.”

Sometimes you can’t turn off your brain from being focused on the race, but being anxious and worried about everything all the time is the ‘you’ that you want to change a little inside.

If Charles, who is racing later on, is okay with hanging out with his friends, you can do it too.

Pierre gives you and Charles the biggest of smiles, waving as he sees you - acting like he hasn’t seen you in years when in fact you had dinner together yesterday. Having them with you during race weeks, hanging out around the garages and smelling the oil and burnt tyres in the air, makes you nostalgic.

This was your childhood, and things didn’t change at all. It makes you feel warm in your heart.

You only notice that Pierre isn’t alone when you’re too close to run away from it.

“Oh my god, yeah, you’re a Ferrari member.” Pierre shouts at you, touching your Ferrari uniform - looking like a couple of tomatoes with Charles “Red looks good on you, lucky you went working with Charles and left me alone.” 

You can’t concentrate on whatever Pierre and Charles are starting an argument on, something about you having a preference for Charles and making Pierre feeling lonely, when in fact you used to share beds with Pierre and leave Charles to sleep on the ground when you were younger.

Your attention is completely on the man in front of you smiling, looking like the menace he is because he knows his presence annoys you, he annoys you - and he likes it. He likes to see your cheeks turning redder as you try to avoid his stare, leaving your shyness as a view he enjoyed seeing.

“So baby girl is a Ferrari staff.” Daniel leans closer to you and bumps your shoulder with his “I didn’t know you were working here, thought you were only friends with these two.”

You open your mouth to retort Daniel, but when you look up at him, you notice he’s having fun with your embarrassment. Your cheeks are getting a tint of red so bright, anyone around the paddock could notice it. Is this how Rudolph feels? You let out a breath and decide to put your mind in its right place. You shouldn’t feel ashamed or anything, when in fact is Daniel the one saying embarrassing things. 

You can deal with it.

“That’s only my part time job, my full time job is being an engineer.” You reply the most simple thing you can think of, if your interaction with him ends fast, it’s easier for you.

“This means I will have you around more.” Daniel grins, as if he has won something, when in fact there’s nothing to win here “I knew I should’ve known who you are, you’ve always been with these two.”

“Thank you for making it more evident that my presence is unnoticeable.” You give him a fake smile, crossing your arms, you don’t want to talk with him, but you stay beside him.

“Not at all, I think your presence is very noticeable.” He winks, but you are not in the mood, especially because you didn’t know you would see him around today “You’re mysterious and that intrigues me.”

You look at him, not getting what he means by that, but when you are about to ask it, Charles speaks louder.

“She’s happier when YOU win.” Charles says, his tone a little louder as the discussion with Pierre got heated, bringing your attention back to your best friends.

“Well, you win all the time, of course she’s happier when I end up winning.” Pierre shrugs. They aren’t serious about this discussion, but they’re using real arguments on this. Pierre is right, you made a fuss when he won, of course you did it for Charles every time he won, but with Pierre you even cried.

Well, you cried on Charles' first win too.

Charles snorts “She works with me, she shouldn’t be happier with your wins, dumbass.” 

“Are you trying to get me fired, Charles?” You say, but your voice comes out almost like a whisper and you giggle in the end, to make sure anyone notices you’re just joking. 

“Do they always fight for you like this?” Daniel crosses his arms, interested in all of the dynamics with your best friends.

“They aren’t fighting…” You try to say, but your voice again fails you and it comes out too weak “They are just messing around.”

“I’m on Charles’ side, I think you’re favoriting Pierre in your actions.” Daniel simply says, mocking you with his tone. You don’t want him to meddle in, to have an opinion or a side. You aren’t close to him, you barely know him. Until a couple of weeks ago he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank you.” Charles says “She even has a tradition with Pierre before every race. Me? Nothing.”

You beg with your eyes for Charles to shut up, but the person you didn’t want to notice is the one that notices first. Daniel lets out a loud laugh, going back to your eyes and staring at them. This time you try to not break the stare, and try to pierce him with your glare.

Pierre looks at you side by side with Daniel, only noticing now how close you two are “Are you friends now?” He raises an eyebrow, and Charles immediately does the same.

“I wouldn’t call it like that.”

“We are building up our friendship.” You and Daniel speak at the same time, exchanging looks as the answers are not on the same side “Don’t be jealous, I’m not trying to be her best friend, just a friend.”

Daniel bumps into you again and you snort, but wanting to leave a smile at the thought. Not that you like the idea of being Daniel’s friend when you’re always bothered by him. But having a new friend, of any type, is something new to you. Charles and Pierre have been trying for years for you to open up to new people, and now someone is there willing to destroy your walls and share a space with your best friends.

Charles looks at Pierre and they exchange a look that you can’t comprehend what it means, maybe they are indeed jealous of you. They don’t need to be, no one will ever replace them inside your heart.

“Anyways, I think it’s time for us to prepare ourselves.” Charles finally says it, looking around and notices everyone in the garage is wrapping things up “Just do your thing with Pierre and let’s leave.”

The tradition you have with Pierre is that you always close his racewear, for good luck. Pierre puts his overalls on his shoulders and you zip them up, tapping his chest in the end. You give Pierre a kiss on his cheek and wish him good luck, and do the same with Charles, so he won’t have such a pout on his face. His expression lights up immediately, the least thing you would want is for one of your friends to feel left out.

“And me?” Daniel says, showing his left cheek to you and standing still. 

Pierre and Charles are watching Daniel waiting for your kiss. You look at them as if they were crazy, almost laughing on Daniel’s face. Why would you kiss his cheek? Why would he ask you for it in the first place? It’s not like you’re uncomfortable with it, but you aren’t leaving kisses everywhere you go. 

“I would rather die, Daniel.” You answer, if Daniel has no shame in asking for a kiss, you shouldn’t feel ashamed to answer him like that. He deserves it.

“Ouch, you’re in a bad mood today cupcake?” 

“For you my mood is always bad.” You say. Daniel seems to be having fun with this, and it infuriates you even more.

hot stuff said: how do you know if you’re into someone?

hot stuff said: i think i might be-

ma fraise said: what?

ma fraise said: falling in love?

ma fraise said: kdfjgnsdfkj

hot stuff said: this sounds so boring omg

hot stuff said: falling in love and etc

hot stuff said: but yeah something like it ig…

(prev chap // next chap)

[boom-bakugou]

‘Wedding Crashers’ - Katsuki Bakugou

A/N: Sorry for my inactivity but here’s a little sorry and thank you present for me hitting 1k! I love you all sm <3

Pairings: Pro Hero!Bakugou x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ooc deku; but it’s more of a headcanon, semi-public sex

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend Izuku Midoriya inviting you to his wedding is a definite stab in yours and Katsuki Bakugou’s backs. But you’ll show him.

Word Count: 5k

masterlist

You had considered your morning to be relatively normal, breakfast not burnt, coffee just that right amount of bitter to stir you awake. But those happy moments of peaceful bliss were soon to be fleeting as your mail arrived. Sifting through the pile to what you assumed would be bank statements and bills; your fingers landed on a cream white envelope. Your name printed neatly in a cursive font that when you followed it with your eyes for too long it almost made you want to puke. Tearing it open haphazardly, you read the perfumed content inside.

‘Dear Y/N Y/LN,

We are very proud to invite you to the blah blah blah wedding of pro hero blah blah Izuku Midoriya and blah blah blah.

RSVP blah-‘

Wait what? The taste in your mouth was pitiful. Yes, you and Izuku had dated years prior and after being childhood friends, yet it didn’t end… swimmingly. But this didn’t feel like inviting a childhood friend to your happiest day, no, this felt like a backhanded swipe at your ex-girlfriend who was well known to the media to be single. Pro-Hero gossip magazines made sure of that.

Throwing the invitation onto your countertop, your eyebrows furrowed with spite. You felt weak almost, watching your ex-best friend grow up to be this bountiful hero with merch in every store that you went to. Though you had triumphed well in the hero charts yourself, nothing ever seemed to compare to him. The golden boy. You never really got over the fact that he ended things because being a single hero was more postable than one who was tied down. Until now. Mr. Big shot getting married. It really made you question your integrity,

Recuperating your thoughts, you realised your phone was buzzing on the couch next to you. Checking to see the influx of text messages, you saw Katsuki Bakugou’s name fill up your lockscreen with notifications.

Bakugou: tell me you got the stupid fuckin invite too

Bakugou: the nerve that nerd still fuckin has

Bakugou: inviting his childhood ‘friends’ after all this time

Bakugou: tch, one big publicity stunt if you ask me

You chuckle as you scroll through the messages, gladly knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

Y/N: so what’re we going to do about it?

Bakugou: what do you mean?

Y/N: well we can’t show him up at his own wedding but we can sure stir something of our own

Bakugou: well that idiot is marrying some nobody extra

Bakugou: probably to show how ‘great’ he is

Bakugou: so how about if two top pro heroes rsvp’d together?

Y/N: you mean us?

Bakugou: no, midnight and grape juice. of course us you idiot

The idea brewed in your head for a moment. Izuku had always been nice when he was younger, and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been the nicest towards him in return. You were always the mediator in those situations. However when Deku grew and grew in the hero charts he started to lose touch with reality. Not really remembering what being a hero was about besides having his face stuck on a lunch box and raking in the dough for it. It was sad. You didn’t know who he was anymore.

Y/N: fuck it, i’m in

-

“You know, don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tux before.” You chuckle, arm linked around Bakugou’s as you stepped out of the chauffeured car together. You were here to make a scene. Paparazzi glistened everywhere like a moth to a candle flame. You couldn’t wait for the tabloids in all honesty.

“Shut up.” Bakugou grumbled, almost in embarrassment. But his smile didn’t show a hint of it. “Not looking too bad yourself.”

You had coordinated well. Your maroon dress flowed in the gentle summer breeze and matched perfectly to Bakugou’s equally coloured tux. You two were such a pair it was nigh impossible to not think that you two were together today. And the paparazzi made sure of that indefinitely.

You couldn’t lie about how the service was beautiful, because it was. However you didn’t need to hear the shutter clicks of a camera go off every few words they spoke. It was distracting, and you and Bakugou shared a glance each time it occurred. Stifling a giggle, you hoped no camera would pick that up. Even if they did, they’d probably pin it to ‘look at these other heroes wishing that they were the next to get married!’ they’d eat that shit uplike ambrosia.

“Can’t wait to see the reception.” You mumbled towards Bakugou, your plastic smiles never fading for the cameras. Izuku making a show of himself and his new bride.

Watching him was almost bittersweet. The happy memories of you three as children flashing behind your eyes. Now replaced with a fame hungry number one hero. Where had all the time gone?

“What’s got you so perplexed?” Katsuki asked, filtering your way through the crowd, making your way to the cars that would deliver you all to the reception.

“Just-“ You sigh, allowing the cover of other heroes to hide you from the all seeing eyes of the paparazzi. “I miss him, y’know? Miss how we used to be.”

“Tch.” Bakugou didn’t care about the scowl present on his face, your words ate him up like some sort of bacteria. “Thought you said that he was the most selfish guy you’d ever dated?”

“He was but like-” You watched Izuku’s back as he held his new partner’s hand. Waving to the cameras and not watching her, as lovely as she looked in her wedding gown. “As weird as it sounds, I sometimes miss high school.”

Bakugou’s eyes scanned your face, following your eyesight to Midoriya. Fucking extra. The thoughts swam around his head, polluting his mind. He knew Izuku’s break up with you had been a massive toll on your mental health and your ego. He made you think that you weren’t good enough for him, and Bakugou never got over that fact. How could he pass up on you for anything else?

Breaking apart from the conglomerative of wedding-goers, Bakugou lead you to one of the specially hired cars to take the guests to the reception. Despite Bakugou’s abrasive and rough nature, you couldn’t help but notice how delicately he held your hand. Not tugging you along or haphazardly grabbing you by your wrist, making you follow him. No, his fingers interlaced with yours and you felt the coarseness of his palms due to the explosive nature of his quirk.

“Katsu?”

“Hm?”

“You can let go of my hand now, we’re in the car.”

“Yeah- whatever.”

Catching up in the car, you both realise how little time you have to actually spend with each other. Though you and Bakugou communicate 1000 times more than you do with Midoriya, heroing keeps you both busy. No times like these to goof off and be with each other. You missed it, you missed your hot-headed idiot friend.

“Hope there’s less fuckin’ paparazzi here. Think I’m gonna go blind with those extras pointing them in my face.” Bakugou rolled down the tinted window a smidge to watch as the car drove into an old looking manor hall where guests had already begun to arrive.

Flowers decorated the ground and just as you two got your hopes up, you saw a line of paparazzi at each side of the staircase leading to the double-doored entrance.

“Well, it was worth a try.” You remark to him, patting his back as you chuckled to him.

Bakugou was the first to exit, standing beside the door so he could reach for your hand to help you out while you fixed your dress. Just as the two of you began to reach for each other's arms to walk into the reception together; there was a brusque tug to your dress. Upon further inspection, a member of the shutterbugs had stood on a long section of your dress. Allowing himself to get pictures of it stretched out and flowy.

“Hey!” Bakugou didn’t waste time on pushing him off the tail end of the dress. “Try anything funny like that again with my girl and say goodbye to that shitty camera of yours!”

The man nodded, slowly letting his camera hang loose on his neck. The rest of the cameramen easily caught the scene but you both couldn’t care less. What’s a wedding without a little drama?

“Thanks Katsuki.” You note with a soft smile.

Bakugou’s hand tenderly makes its way around the small of your back until his arm is holding you close to him as you walk inside. His hand sitting in a caring way at your hip to assure that nothing could come between you both. You could not wait for the media to plaster this fake-ness on every outlet that they could! However, you liked the thought of relishing in the attention right now.

Once the dining festivities had come and gone. It was time for their first dance. Watching as he held her under the blue lighting had your heart hurting slightly. The thought that that could’ve been you. But Bakugou was right. He’s probably marrying some quirkless nobody not only to make himself look better, but being with another hero is messy. You both had media eyes on you; but… you couldn’t help but wonder how different your life would be like if Midoriya was how he used to be.

You didn’t even notice Bakugou’s eyes on you the whole time. Not wanting to waste a second of his eyesight on the show Izuku was putting on. You were a sight of your own. How could you not see that you deserved someone better? Someone like him. You always spoke about how everyone was under a facade when supporting Deku, but you never correlated that to yourself.

After a short while, others began to join in on the large dance floor. Perfectly spacious for all the famous faces and their egos. Bakugou’s hand traced down your arm until his hand clasped with yours, gently leading you to the floor yourselves.

“What’re you doing?”

“Come on, who’s to say we can’t have some fun too huh?”

Smiling at him, you followed his lead. His hand occupying your waist before pulling you in closer to his chest. Flowing with the music, you couldn’t help the cheesy smile on your face; nor the one that spread to Bakugou’s.

“Why’s no one ever tied down Mr. Ground Zero then?” Your question takes Bakugou by surprise, showing a small blip in your combined graceful swaying to the music.

“No ones good enough.” Such a Bakugou answer.

“You’re sounding like Izuku, but he probably got that from the old you.” You jested, earning an eye roll from Bakugou. “I’m being serious! Come on you can tell me.”

It takes him a moment to figure out an answer, so much so that he doesn’t focus on dancing anymore. He just stands there holding you before locking eyes again.

“Just haven’t found the right person to deal with my bullshit I guess.”

There’s a beat of silence and your eyes search his face for answers. You didn’t even realise how close you were to him. His breath fanning your face, the smell of oak and fire and burning sweetness engulfed your senses. You also didn’t realise how the two of you sank closer and closer into one another.

“Hey Kacchan, mind if I steal her from you?”

Izuku’s voice almost sends you two flying away from each other like same sides of a magnet.

“Ask her yourself she’s not mine.” You turn from Bakugou to give a friendly smile to Midoriya, allowing your hand to rest in his. “I’ll be at the bar. Free drinks and all.”

His answers are short, curt. Yet before you can ask him if he’s alright Deku spins you and begins to dance with you in his arms at the tempo of the new music track that’s playing.

“Long time no see Y/N!” His manner has always been so chipper, despite the facade of it all. Though Bakugou and you went there to purposefully to cause discourse; you don’t think you have it in you to be mean to Izuku’s face.

“Yeah, look at you! Married man now, must be scary.” You chuckle, almost nervously. It was like speaking to a stranger.

“Well I guess I’ll find out! But come on that’s been the subject of the whole day! I wanna know about you and Kacchan.” You felt like Bakugou right now, the old nickname boiling your blood as it did his. There was no doubt Izuku took influence from Bakugou and his fiery personality; but he took it in all the wrong ways. Using confidence to become cold, uncaring.

“Oh- haha, Katsuki and I aren’t-“

“Y/N. Don’t lie to me! I can see the way he’s burning holes in my tux from over here.”

Turning you to the music so you could face where Katsuki was standing, you peaked behind Midoriya’s arm to see Bakugou with an all too familiar scowl on his face. Chasing down a beverage in a crystalline glass in one easy gulp.

“If you ask me Midoriya he’s always looked at you that way.” You laugh your statement off but you meant it with malice.

“Midoriya? Feeling formal today are we Y/N?” He had completely lost touch of who he used to be. “I used to look at you like that when I saw you with other guys, I know what that look is.”

His comment stops you dead in your tracks, not allowing for him to swing you to and fro to the music.

“Actually Midoriya I don’t even remember you looking me with jealous intent other than when I was higher than you on the hero charts.” Shaking yourself free from his towering position on you, you stormed off to the patio doors, letting yourself be eaten by the oncoming darkness of night.

Crying at your ex’s wedding. Not something you’d think you’d ever do in your lifetime but here you were. Thankfully you couldn’t see any reporters or such outside so for now, it was just you and your tears. Maybe you were too harsh on him? You used to be friends right? What happened to that kid who wanted to be a hero who you looked up to? What happened to the boyfriend you had who kissed you goodnight and ignored you when your face was on the TV more than him or snapped at you when he was announced lower than you and broke up with you because ‘heroes dating are messy!’ No. Bakugou was right. He was a self-righteous bastard now.

“Y/N?”

You half expected Midoriya to come out after you but he was probably entertaining other guests. Luckily, as you turned you saw Bakugou standing outside with you, signature hands in his pockets with a dumb, sympathetic smirk on his face.

“Hey.”

“I promise I didn’t punch that asshole at his own wedding but I can tell you he got a fuckin’ earful from me. Hope the paps got a good pic.” His tone was joking but it hadn’t cracked a smile from you yet.

“S’alright. Wouldn’t give two shits if you did.” You sniffled, collecting mascara tears on your fingers and wiping them on the decorative concrete bannisters of the balcony. “Shouldn’t’ve fucking come. This was stupid I have too much baggage for this shit.”

You turned away from him, allowing yourself to lean out on the barrier, looking into the distance on the warm night. You could hear Bakugou give a small sigh before his arms snuck around your waist, pulling your back into his chest before placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

“That fuckin’ idiot didn’t know what he lost and it’s my fault for influencin’ him.” The pain in his voice was evident. Did Bakugou blame himself for the hurt Midoriya caused you?

“Katsu-“

“No. That extra is so blinded by the shit everyone has to say that he’s forgotten what real life is. Doesn’t care about his stupid fans or his friends or the best most understanding girl in the whole fucking world. A girl I know does the best for everyone no matter what her own situation is.” You turn around to face him, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Y/N. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to fuckin’ win I’ve just wanted the best for you. And when that bastard did what he did to you- I- fuck. You look at him, like you’re waiting for him to just notice you; but every time I see you it’s like I’m seeing you set the stars in the sky every fuckin night. You just- you’re fuckin’ everything to me Y/N.”

It was completely silent on the balcony besides the low thump of the music from indoors, but it was deafening. But it all faded when his lips attached to yours. It was so clear. All that pining over Midoriya when he was just copying the one who actually saw you for who you were. He even copied Bakugou’s crush on you, most likely to make him jealous. But your mind had no time to think of that when all you could feel was Bakugou.

It was like you had never been kissed before, never felt the love and sensuality behind it. Soft and moist but breathy and warm. For once Bakugou didn’t wish to win a battle, he wanted unity and to be together with you. His hands danced over the delicate curves of you in your dress; taking in every inch of your perfect body. The gasp that fell from your mouth was perfect entrance for Bakugou’s tongue to mingle with yours. The sparks hot and electric between you both was like liquid lightning.

Just as your hands found home in his hair, you heard the all too familiar sound of today of a photo being taken. Bakugou is the first to break the kiss to find the intruder of your special moment. Your lips already feel blushed and bruised but your heart was nearly pounding out your chest.

“Fuckin’ print that in your gossip magazine you extra!” Bakugou couldn’t help but heartily laugh at the man as he shook with worry after catching the intimate moment. He wanted to show you off. He wasn’t ashamed that his lips had captured you to be his.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.” He whispers into your ear and you eagerly nod, grasping his one hand with your two as the both of you manouvered your way through the wedding guests until you finally found a small closet down a hallway where no one from the party had entered.

Slamming the door shut behind you, your eyes drank in Bakugou’s frame. How had you missed that small boy you once knew had now become this beefy, beautiful man? Who was looking at you with the same awe and intent? Bakugou cornered you against the door of the supply closet, latching his lips together with yours once again as if he was scared he’d never be able to taste you again.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect.” Katsuki’s lips mashed with yours as his hands slid up your dress, the coarseness of his fingers against your soft skin sending shivers down your spine.

All those years of being a hero really showed on Bakugou, he lifted you with ease as your fingers traced scars on the back of his neck; holding on for support. His hips pin you against the door and you feel his cock hardening between the fabric of your underwear and his suit pants, you can’t help the whimper escaping your lips at the friction of him.

Bakugou’s hands slip under the straps of your dress, letting them fall delicately to your sides as his lips ensnare yours. His grunts and your whimpers enough to make any passerby know what was going on in the confined space of the closet. His fingers glide beneath the dress which allowed it to fall further as Bakugou felt the weight of your breasts in his palms.

“God you’re fucking everything princess.” His fingers slide beneath the lacy fabric to thumb your nipples, perking and tugging it with his forefinger.

Breaking the kiss, his head lowers to encapsulate the bud in his mouth. Gently suckling it before rolling it feverishly between his teeth. Your hands snaking through his hair only spurring the assault on your supple flesh. Biting your lip to stop the obvious moans that were threatening to spill out of your mouth. You swore you could see stars as his tongue flicked against the pointed nub- sending your nerves wild.

“Bet that fucking extra never treated you like this baby.” He matched your height, his gaze never leaving your own as he took both of your tits out of your bra; kneading the flesh and buds of your nipples as he spoke. “Just wanted to get himself off, I know how to fuckin’ treat you right.”

“Then do it… Kacchan.” You spoke with such gusto in your breathy state, knowing that the old nickname would make him see red. And god did it send him feral.

His body pressed you further into the door, even if it felt like he couldn’t. The aching feel of his cock rubbing against your clothed core made you mewl in want of him. His fingers slid beneath the hem of your dress and made little pricking motions into your inner thighs until he traced a slit over your panties.

“Shit you’re fucking wet.” The pads of his fingers kneading against where you wanted him most, a chuckle falling his lips as your hips did their best to try and get any sort of relief.

“Katsuki please- please fuck oh my god-“ Your neck craned back as you felt your body take control. The low growl in Bakugou’s throat at the sight of you barely touched and already begging for him.

Tracing his fingers along your décolletage he stopped when he met your parted lips before roughly shoving his fingers in your mouth, pressing down the body of your tongue.

“Please please please-“ Katsuki mocked. “Please what princess? Better use your fuckin’ words or else.”

An insufferable smirk played upon his lips as he felt your cunt clench around nothing at his dirty words. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he wiped the remnants of your spit across your tits; awaiting for your response.

“Fuck me Katsuki- please you’re all I want. God you’re all I need.” Although said in your aroused state. You meant it- and he knew that.

Not wasting any more of the precious time you two had before you were inevitably found out considering your blatant disregard for being quiet; Bakugou used his hand to tug off his belt. Nearly setting his suit pants on fire as his quirk crackled in anticipation for you.

Your body clung to Bakugou’s for support, his whole body easily keeping your pinned high between himself and the door. Once his lower half was sufficiently stripped, it was easy enough for him to rip the sides of your underwear off.

“Katsu-“

“Shut up.”

Not wanting to disagree; you did. Hips bucking against nothing as the cool air prickled at your hot cunt. Bakugou held his manhood in his hand, rubbing the head of it in your slick and providing stimulation to your clit. Your thighs tightening around his waist like a vice grip at the well needed attention.

“You’re fuckin’ soaking baby. So needy.” Bakugou mumbled against your neck, allowing himself and you to get off momentarily at the friction. You could only nod to his words which were making you more and more wet for him. He was such a tease.

“Come on princess. Tell me you want my cock. Tell me.” His voice growled as he repeated himself, leaving marks upon your nape that would surely bruise because of his harsh bites and sucklings.

“Katsuki I need you- only you. Only you.” Your repetition is barely a whisper but he heard it, and despite his rough nature Bakugou confines your lips in a kiss as he sheaths himself inside of you.

Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Bakugou completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasps your hips so firmly his knuckles turn white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands find their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath his suede blazer and the shirt.

“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Bakugou’s voice is a low growl as he thrusts into you, the sounds of your clothes brushing against one another and the slaps of your skin interacting was like a sinful symphony.

The smell of caramel danced in your brain as Bakugou worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly- yet as you both came to your highs, you could both barely move from the thrill of it all.

Steadying your breaths back to a regular pace; Bakugou slid you down from where he had pinned you against the door and let you fix yourself as he then did himself. You sorted your dress and pulled any tugs from your hair when he had pulled it before slapping Bakugou’s arm.

“You dick! You ripped my underwear!”

“Hot.” He chuckled, fixing his belt loops and stuffing the ripped panties into his pocket.

“Not funny! I’m not parading about with no underwear on!”

“We’re getting the fuck out of this extras stupid wedding. You can wear my clothes at my place.” Suitably sorted and not looking like you had just had the brains fucked out of you in a closet (despite the reddening bites and bruises that were now appearing on your neck), Bakugou held you close. Yet instead of taking the corridor to the exit, he was leading you back to the main dance hall.

“Where’re we going?” You hashly whispered to Bakugou, your thighs still wet from your slick and the cool air against your unclothed pussy making you heat up from embarrassment.

“Gots to do one thing before we go.” There’s a shit eating grin on his face, you couldn't help but wonder what on earth he was planning now.

Midoriya stood talking to other heroes all dressed in their formal attire and Bakugou (with no consideration of their conversation) roughly tapped his shoulder to get his immediate attention. His arm around your waist was so tight but being see with Bakugou like this made you feel almost proud.

“We’re just heading off.” Bakugou had replaced his smile for his usual scowl, something he had always looked at Izuku with.

“Going so soon? It’ll be a shame you guys!” Izuku’s voice was plastered in falsehood. He probably regretted trying to gloat over you two. Bakugou held out his hand for Midoriya to shake it, your brows furrowed on what was obviously a stepping stone to Bakugou’s plan.

“I know I might not be better at you right now in the hero charts.”

Uh oh.

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to recognise that Kaccha-“

“But I am better at you at something for sure.”

Bakugou used Midoriya’s hand in his to pull him closer, readying himself to whisper in his ear.

“Cause I just fucked the shit out of your ex-girlfriend and I know you never made her come as hard as I did.”

Your face burned with the heat of a million suns, but the glower on Izuku’s face was priceless. And you couldn’t help but see the flash of a camera capture the moment as Bakugou’s hand fell from his and slipped once again around your waist.

[licensedqueerio]

Can i request something with a x reader first kiss with fred benson ? (headcanon or fic dosent really matter, whatever you feel like i!) the guy derseves more hype ♡

Fred is 100% the person who kisses his partner to shut them up. Also I hope you don't mind, I made reader male, just to make things interesting

ALSO! I'm sorry about not posting as often 😭 I started senior year like two weeks ago and I haven't had much time to sit down and write. But here this is! I hope you enjoy!

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Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Fred Benson x Male!Reader

Warnings: underage drinking & smoking

Request Here

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“I like your lips.” Your words were frustratingly slurred, your tongue heavy in your mouth. Your head was buzzing pleasantly from the drink you had downed moments prior. Your filter was nonexistent, as was the respectable boy you prided yourself on being. A few drinks of alcohol and it was gone, you were stripped down to a simple, stupid, teenage boy. A stupid teenage boy who was stupidly in love with another boy.

A boy who was handsome, smart, sweet, and snarky all in one. Who had pretty pink lips and breathtaking blue eyes. You weren’t the best at poetry, but when you thought of him it was as though William Shakespear himself lived inside of you, putting together beautiful poetry about the boy with the blue eyes in your mind.

Though it appears that Shakespear had traitorously abandoned you tonight, for all you could say when you caught up to the boy weaving through the crowd was, “I like your lips.”

There Fred stood before you, staring at you with all of his attention, those blue eyes boring into you as he pushed his glasses up higher onto his nose bridge. There he stood, waiting to hear what you said and your alcohol muddled brain could only put together four words. The only saving grace about the situation was that you hadn’t stumbled over your words. Only slurred them. You knew you shouldn’t have drank.

“Excuse me?” Fred asked, his eyes widening marginally behind his lenses.

“Your lips,” you repeated with a ridiculous grin that was often saved for your closest friends and family. This smile was special. “Your lips and your eyes, I really like your eyes. Not just your eyes, I like all of you. Your hair is very nice. And your glasses. They’re really big, but I like them. And your scar. Your scar is cool. Have I mentioned your lips? Because they’re—” They’re on yours.

It happens so fast, one minute you’re rambling like an idiot, unable to stop the words from leaving your lips, and the next those pretty pink lips are on yours. It’s breathtaking, all your thoughts and words come screeching to a halt as all your attention falls zeroes in on Fred’s lips pressed against your. Your body begins to relax, tension melting from your shoulders as you press forward, returning the kiss eagerly.

And then he pulled away, depriving you of his lips all too soon. You stared down at him, a protest on the tip of your tongue when you realized he was looking around. You were suddenly hyper aware of all the bodies around you. No one had noticed, obvious by the lack of cruelty and hate being shouted your way. You became tense all over again as you realize what could have just happened.

“Sorry,” Fred stammers, his eyes still shifting around the room. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He’s not looking at you anymore and you’re desperate to have his eyes on you again.

“We could go somewhere more private,” the words come tumbling out of your lips, all common sense thrown to the wind. You would never had said that sober. You wouldn’t have said that tipsy. You shouldn’t have said it at all, because it sounded like you were asking for something you weren’t and you didn’t want to scare him off.

By the time you manage to form the words, “I’m sorry,” he’s gone. It takes a few moments of looking around to find him again, but when you do, you find him already staring straight at you. The corner of his lips quirks up, bemused. He inclines his head to the door before he steps through it, disappearing outside.

It takes your alcohol muddled mind another second before you understand, and when you do, you find yourself mindlessly weaving through bodies, distractedly responding to the greeting thrown your way. You’re undettered as you make it outside finally. You don’t spot him immediately, so you wander around the ridiculously large party. You find him in the dark, on the left side of the house, leaning against it. One of his legs is propped up behind him against the house. One hand is in his pocket, and the other hand is raised to his lips. He's smoking something, but from here you can't discern if it's a joint or a cigarette.

The breath punches out of you at the sight of him. He's beautiful. More than beautiful, he's…he's. You can't think of a better word. You knew you should have gotten drunk.

He startled when he saw you, the cherry of whatever he's smoking glowing red. He's illuminated only by the faint light coming from the porch lights. There's little people outside, so the chance of anyone seeing them is slim.

"I didn't know you smoke," is the intelligent thing that comes from your mouth once you're close enough for him to hear you.

"Anxiety," Fred answers, and it's then that you can see his fingers trembling as they hold…you inhale deeply. Weed. Huh.

"Do I make you anxious?" You asked, the anxiety that shot through you was completely new and foreign. You blamed the alcohol for the feeling.

"You're drunk," Fred said, as if that were an answer. You didn't understand how it was.

"No I'm not," you were quick to deny. You weren't that drunk. But if you were asked to walk in a straight line, there was a 50/50 chance you'd fail. You never had the best balance to begin with.

Fred exhaled softly in amusement. "Yeah," he murmured, bringing the joint to his lips with still trembling fingers.

You watch, mesmerized, as his lips wrapped around the paper. You watched his eyes flutter close as he inhaled deeply. His lips detached from the joint and he lowered it, inhaling again, just as deep. Then he slowly exhaled, the smoke billowing in front of his face before dissipating in the wind.

You longed for the feel of his lips against yours. Just one more time. Once more, so you could savor the feel of his plush lips against yours. So you could taste him.

Maybe then this crush of yours would be sated.

"You're staring," Fred said quietly, casually. He put his leg on the ground and stood up straight. He took a single step closer to you.

"You're mesmerizing," you murmured.

"You're drunk," Fred repeated, he doesn't move again, but he does take another hit.

You've never been a big smoker, you just never had the urge to fill your lungs with smoke and cough it up moments later and make a fool of yourself. But you were so desperate for his lips again that you'd willing take a hit, just to wrap your lips around the same joint he did.

You were pathetic, but right now, you didn't care.

"I want to kiss you," you said, staring at him.

He coughed on the exhale, likely from surprise at such a blunt statement, but you meant it. You wanted to kiss him.

"No you don't," Fred denied, but he didn't move away. So you took another step forward, almost toe to toe with him.

"I do," you promised, eagerly nodding your head, "I really do. I want to kiss you over and over. I want to taste your lips, I want to feel them against my own. I want—"

"Okay!" Fred said suddenly, flustered as he turned his head away from you. "I get it," he nervously laughed, pushing his glasses up.

"Can I?" You asked. You may have been drunk, and the respectable boy you were may have been stripped away, but you were a decent human being still.

"No," Fred said, which was crushing to hear. Genuinely. "No, not right now."

You perked up at his choice of words, "when?" You eagerly asked.

"...call me when you're sober," he said decidedly, stepping closer again. The hand in his pocket makes an appearance as he extends it out, pressing a slip of paper into your hand.

The thought of him standing out here, waiting for you, writing his number on a slip of paper special for you, does things to your heart. Your head.

You curled your fingers around the paper and smiled like an idiot. You slipped it into your pocket and looked back at him.

"I'll call you," you promised.

"Good night," Fred replied, turning his back on you and taking another hit.

You take that as your cue to leave and walk away, giddyness filling your chest as you skip your hand into your pocket, feeling the small slip of paper.

You were going to call him as soon as you were sober. And you were going to kiss him.

[luimagines]

Not sure how familiar you are with Four Swords but would you be interested in writing separate Red, Blue, Green and Vio X reader? Obviously can be in an LU setting but doesn’t have to be! My girlfriend is a massive Four simp I know she’d swoon at this.

As always love your work! ❤️❤️

- Gaylactic-Fire

Masterlist

You've got it!

Color centric scenarios are a go!

Content under the cut!

Green

Your laughter bounced off of the forest canopy as you ran though the foliage.

Green held onto your hand tightly as he led the way, dodging in and out of bushes and the underbrush so frequently that you were sure you were thoroughly lost.

“Green!” You shout after a short twig scratches your ankle. “Where are we even going?”

“Somewhere special!” He replies with a wink over his shoulder.

That’s the only answer you get before he has you climbing over a particularly impressive rock, passing you the basket that he’s brought along and climbing right after you.

You shake your head and try your hardest not to look into the goods that he’s brought. He made you promise before you started out here to not peak and you don’t want to break it simply because you’re curios.

Granted, it a basket and he’s taking you somewhere special away from the people and his especially his brother- you think you can guess what’s inside and what you’re doing.

Green reaches up to where you are and takes the basket but a cheeky finger wave. “You promised~!”

“I know.” You snort. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Mm-hm...” He takes your hand again and begins to pull you along gentler along the rock and moves aside a curtain of vines before ushering you forward.

It’s a hidden tunnel and with wide and delighted eyes you venture forward, your boyfriend at your back before you come to a crystal cave, a blanket set on the dry rock below with multiple candles not only holding the blankets down but decorating the atmosphere with their flickering light, sending a filter of rainbow light across the cave.

A gasp leaves your mouth and you dash in front of the little display. “When did you do this? How did you find this place? I knew you taking me a for picnic but I didn’t think-”

“Happy anniversary.” Green holds out a single red rose in front of him a happy and bashful smile on his face.

Your heart drops to your feet when you accept the flower. “Green... oh, I’m sorry... I completely forgot. I didn’t get you anything.”

“I thought so.” Green admits. “You’ve been so nervous about acing your exams that you weren’t thinking much about anything else. But it gave me all the opportunity I needed to plan this, find this place and set everything up!”

“This is incredible Green, thank you.” You lean forward and kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I’ve been so stuck in my head recently.”

“Don’t be.” Green takes your hands and kisses your knuckles. “If you pass the test you get to work in the castle as a royal court herbalist. It’s a big deal. They only accept the best of the best.”

 “I’m so nervous.” You say confidently.

“That’s ok.” Green chuckles. “But take a break for a little, yeah? I brought your favorites.”

Blue

You had left him the forge to work on the latest commission but you were beginning to suspect that he hadn’t once paused or taken a break.

And that just won’t stand.

So you walk right on in and wave to Green who’s working the front of the shop.

Green brightens at seeing your face and throws a thumb back toward the entrance to the forge. “Blue’s back there.”

“Has he left at all?’ You ask with a small smile on your lips.

Green shakes his head.

You sigh and shake your head.” That’s what I thought.”

“Gonna get him out?”

“I’m gonna try.” You admit with a shrug and walk toward the door.

“If anyone can, it’s you.” Green calls as you leave and you take a breath to brace yourself for the smell and the heat of the place.

You walk on it and look around, trying to get past the always dim light and spot him in the back by the anvil, the glowing amber light of the metal lighting up his face.

You step as close as you while still being safe of the sparks. 

“Blue!” You call out. 

He stops and looks up from the project before dunking it in the bucket of water nearby.

He leaves it there and begins to make his way over to you with a smile on his face. “Hey. I’m still working.”

“I can see that.” You say with a smile. “I was wondering if you would like to go get something to eat with me.”

Blue stalls for a moment, the idea waging a war in his mind. “...I’m still working.”

“It’s just a break, Blue. It’ll still be there when you get back.” You try to persuade him. “Please.”

You put on your cutest puppy eyes and lean closer, even going as far as to put hand in front of you as you plead your case. 

Blue bites his lip and worries the leather of his gloves but he doesn’t say anything.

You wait for a moment and drop your hands. “Is that a no?”

It’s hard to hide the disappointment in your voice and facial expression and you know that Blue sees it.

But you smile a little and nod. “That’s fine. We still have that date planned this weekend, right? I’ll.... I’ll see you then.”

“No.” Blue takes of his gloves. “I’m coming. Let’s go get lunch.”

“I- Really?” You blinked and don’t bother hiding your grin. “And you’re commission?”

“It’ll be there when I get back.” Blue takes the apron off and puts it on a nearby hook, taking your hand as he begins to leave the forge.

You’re sure that there’s a lot of safety hazards that he’s currently throwing out the window but Green is good at this too so hopefully he’ll cover for Blue.

You both exit and Blue is barely holding himself together. He’s just short of sprinting away from the shop entirely, waving to his brother on the way out while you giggle and give Green a wink.

It’s lunch time!

Red

“RED!” You cried out into the open. “RED!”

No one answers.

“Oh man, why me?” You whine and begin jogging down the road. “Of all days! ...RED! RED!”

Still nothing.

You at least take a moment to thank your lucky stars that there’s no one else on the road beside you or else they’d think you’re crazy for simply yelling out a color and expecting something to happen.

“I’m here!” You hear him call out at last.

Relief covers your entire body in a single wave and you pick up your pace. “Red, where have you been? Vio is going to have an aneurism about being on time with the dinner with your dad and grandpa and ....oh dear...”

You look up and see a very familiar red tunic... hanging upside down- hat on the ground and boots in the air, a single foot stretched out and held by a rope trap connected to a very tall tree.

You blink and sit yourself on the forest floor under you. “How is it that only you get into these kind of things?”

Red sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t know this was even here.”

“Clearly.” You run your hand through your hair and take a deep breath. You look around him and take in the tree. It looks like it can be climbed easily enough and if you can get up, you can undo the rope at the top, get your boyfriend out and then still have enough time to go doll yourself up for the first family dinner you’ve been invited to.

No pressure.

“You’re so lucky I love you.” You get up and pat Red out of the way to get a good grip on the tree bark in front of you.

“What are you doing?” 

“Getting you out Sweetheart, what does it look like I’m doing?” You reply and begin the climb.

“Please be careful.” Red gulps a bit and tried to ignore the amount of blood that’s been rushing to his head.

Finding the rope that holding your lover hostage is a bit more challenging than getting into the tree to begin with but you find it well enough.

You don’t have anything sharp to simply cut him free but you do have two hands- determination, spite and a whole lot of gumption at your disposal to try to undo the knot in the tree.

It’s takes an age.

But when you see that you’re making progress you get excited and tell Red to get ready to fall.

He doesn’t respond but you can somewhat see him nod and try to figure out how on earth he was going to land without hurting himself.

You feel like you should be helping him in that regard but you’re not on the ground anymore and someone still has to get the knot out.

It slips and Red falls right into a practiced roll like the professional that he is and you cheer on his behalf. “YAY! Red, you’re free!”

He laughs and goes to stand, wobbling immediately at the rush of blood but manages to stand on his feet.

You drop down from the tree after him and rush to give him a hug. “Hey there handsome!”

“Hello beautiful!” Red hugs you back. 

“Come on now! Or we’re going to be late!” You jump and begin to pull back through the forest. 

You do not want to give his family a bad impression of you after all.

Vio

“My love, you have to get up now.” Soft lips brush against your cheek with a sweet peck before a hand shakes your shoulder somewhat.

You blink your eyes open with a smile and roll over to the other side, completely ignoring the man in front of you.

“I saw that.” Vio chuckles and continues to shake your shoulder. “You said you’d help out in the shop today. you have to get up if you want to be there on time.”

“Nu-uh.” You hum and try to burrow deeper into the warm blankets.

Vio shakes you a little harder.

“Five more minutes.”

“No.” Vio says your name with the same exasperation as he would when dealing with Red. He hates that you two have this in common.

You’re content to stay in bed and fall back asleep until the blankets are unceremoniously ripped away from you.

The cold air had you curling in on yourself in an instant and you whined as loud as you could without opening your mouth to show your annoyance toward your boyfriend.

“Time to be awake now.”

“I don’t wanna~” You groan and roll around again, looking for a familiar mop of blond hair. “Why must you do this to me? I thought you loved me.”

That actually manages to get Vio to laugh before he crawls into bed next to you and lays down close enough where his nose just barely brushes yours. “I do love you. It’s why I’m making sure my lover can keep their promises and not become a hypocrite. It won’t look good on me if the love of my life begins slacking.”

You hum and close your eyes, reaching out for his hand and taking it into your own. You pull it up and give him a small kiss on his knuckles and sigh. “I suppose it really wouldn’t do you any good if your lover was a scoundrel.”

Vio snorts. “That and Red was excited about you joining in him in the front today so he’s been talking non stop about it.”

You groan louder and roll away from him, going so far as to roll off of the bed and hit the floor with your full weight.

Vio winces by the sounds and pushes himself upright. “You ok?”

“I really hate it when Red get disappointed.” You groan as loud as you can before getting up and stretching your arms over your head. “He always looks like he’s about to cry and then I want to cry with him and it’s a whole mess. I swear sometimes he does it on purpose.”

“Sounds about right.” Vio smiles and begins to put the bed together. “Go get ready. I’ll clean up.”

You yawn and nod. “Good morning by the way.”

“Good morning.” Vio says through his giggles. “Blue is making breakfast.”

“He’s gonna burn the toast again.”

“When does he not?”

“I can hear you!” Blue shouts from the stairs just beyond your bedroom door.

You snort and pop your head out. “Sorry Blue!”

Vio smirks and adjusts the corner until they’re flat and decent again. He’d be lying if he said that these weren’t some of his favorite mornings.

Bonus Shadow!

“I know you’re there~” You grin, not looking behind you as you attempt to finish the dishes for the night.

The flickering candle light made the shadows appear longer than they would usually and they sifted with the wave of the fire as the candle burned into the night.

No one answered your little tease but you knew you were right.

There a thickness in the air when you took a breath. It was your only clue that you weren’t alone. Others might have been frightened or confused by your relaxed nature when something was going on but you knew you just had to wait a minute and the problem would solve itself.

You were being watched but you wanted to coax him out.

“I’m almost done here.” You smile and let the water rinse off the plate you were holding before putting in the rack. “Then we can head upstairs a little while. Not much we can do in the dark.”

“I beg to differ.” The voice replies. “There’s plenty to do in the dark.”

You smirk. “Then beg.”

“Well that’s not very nice.” Arms come to wrap around your waist as a chin hooks onto your shoulder.

You giggle as a strand of hair tickles your cheek and you try to blow it aside with a small gust of air but it doesn’t work.

You sigh and let it happen, taking care to not get the person next to you wet. You take the next plate and rinse it under the water, trying to get the soap off of it and put it away to be dried later.

“Are you done?” The voice whines.

“If I say yes, will that you make you happy Shadow?” You smirk and turn your head to look at him. 

Truthfully, he looks exhausted as it is. He has dark circles under his eyes and paler complexion than usual. He takes a minute to respond as he looks at the dishes in the sink and back to you. He takes a breath and nods.

You snort and dry your hands, turning around to hug him back properly and rest your head in the crook of his neck as well.

“Do you want to go to bed?” You ask him. “You look tired.”

“I am tired.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You both stand there in the middle of your kitchen and sway a little, taking in each other warmth and comfort.

Shadow takes another breath and straightens up from curling around you. “Yes, please.”

[the-apprentice-lia]

hi, i'm in love with u. seriously, you got some real talent! also, i'm here to make a request, excuse me~~ can you write the main 6 and the mc in some sort of a date..? let's say it's their day, maybe it's been a year since they're together and the main 6 prepared a special day to the mc, plsss? thanks 🖤

hiii!! wait come back, i love you too!! thank you so much, i’m so glad you enjoy my writing!☺️ i’m honestly relieved at this headcanon since i’ve been writing so much angst so thank you! i don’t think i’d have been able to write a piece that would break my heart again!!

the main 6 on their one year anniversary with mc

asra

• let’s clear something up really quickly: asra’s the most romantic person you’ll ever meet. aside from maybe nadia. but this ain’t about her (for now). they’re 100% the type to leave you roses lying around the house with sweet little love notes, compose you magical poetry that makes the entire room smell of ambrosia and only unfurls when you’ve had a terrible day, and drop kisses to any part of you they’re able to reach during the day. so, for your one year anniversary? oh, get ready.

• i can see asra actually asking one of the arcana for the temporary use of their realm, (bonus if he says they’re free to use the magic shop while you two are on your date, and double bonus if a wandering customer who doesn’t take note of the ‘we’re closed’ sign is met with cunning, tapered amaranthine eyes, and a sly, vulpine smile.) and using his magic to enhance the familiar setting even more. he’s probably spent months planning this, ensuring everything’s absolutely perfect on the recurrence of day he first pledged his love to you.

• asra’s not there next to you when you awaken, so you call for him as soft morning sunlight filters through the window, falling across your empty bed and your summons echo through the deserted store. he’s obviously closed it for the day since you’ve slept in, and as you stumble towards the kitchen, you stop as you notice the new outfit laid carefully out on your shared desk, with a note lying beside it.

• “follow me to where you first met me through the palace fountains.” you take in the painstakingly-calligraphied note with a soft smile. asra’s hand-writing is… questionable at best, and barely-legible scribbles at worst, and this note has the prettiest handwriting you’ve seen. the little ‘I’ at the bottom of the note tells you where you need to go, and you grin as you rush to get ready.

• as you pay more attention to the outfit, a soft smile crosses your face. the beautifully put-together ensemble (asra has impeccable fashion sense, fight me) is in your favourite colour, and you sprint to the bath-chamber just so you can put it on sooner. when you finally emerge, you meet your own eyes in the mirror with a beam. it fits you delightfully, outlining the shape of your body and falling perfectly, the fabric looking as if it’s made just for you. you give a little twirl in the mirror with a raw burst of laughter; you not only look and feel beautiful, this is asra’s gift to you and you couldn’t be happier in it.

• finally finished, you follow the trail of magic asra’s left— a shimmering, iris-purple trail that’s obviously reflective of his aura— to where a final gift waits for you, with a carefully-scrolled note left behind it. “open me when you’ve found our spot,” it reads, and you grin at asra’s layers of planning. it means so much to you that he cares about you so much, truly.

• you let your eyes flutter shut, attuning yourself only to the unique aura of the magician’s realm. you know the world is slowly falling away around you, and as you open your eyes again, asra stands before you with the biggest smile on his face. his eyes are twinkling and you know, in that moment, that you’d follow your lover to the ends of the earth.

• it’s the lake where you first entered the magician’s realm to visit asra. painted in the fiery-amber hues of an eternal sunset, the amaranthine sky stretches and ripples before you endlessly, fish jumping between the reeds. they sway gently in the breeze and stretch away from the marigolden reflection of the sun-setting sky on the lake, bleeding in an amethyst kaleidoscope into an electric blue that you long to slip your fingers through. it almost looks as if it would feel like silk.

• “mc, you’ve found me!” comes his teasing voice as he sweeps you up in his arms. he kisses you deeply, before stepping aside to let you take in the picnic he’s set up near the water’s edge. well, picnic in the most basic sense of the word, you think as you look in wonder around you. asra’s set up a beautiful array of coloured blankets, fairy lights hovering in the air all around you. he’s enchanted the glowing orbs to revolve slowly around the two of you, and you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with the beautiful person in front of you.

• after the magical evening in the magician’s realm, you give your fellow arcana his domain back as asra’s hand in yours pulls you through the fabric of the realms and you’re standing back in your shop.

• when you waken in the morning, after your (practically non-existent;) lovely sleep, you find it’s long past the time that the two of you usually decide to open the store. again, asra’s broken duties (which in and of itself is a great feat?!) simply to spend time with the love of their life. you show your appreciation with extra cuddles that he accepts with a sleepy smile, his warm and utterly contented aura mingling with yours and making your morning even better.

nadia

• okay she’s probably tied with asra in the romance department. she just can’t help it! gifts have always been her love-language, even when, only known as the youngest satrinava princess, the only meaningful gifts she used to be able to give were the gifts she made herself— intricate devices, levers and pulleys in the latest fashion that wax and wane with the sun so that your plants never want for any light— you name it, she could have, and probably had before, made it. so, when she was young, since she was so insecure and unsure of herself, gifts were the only way she was ever able to show affection.

• now, of course, she’ll move you close to her wherever you are with a gentle hand around your waist, press little kisses to your cheeks or forehead, pull you to her and press a soft kiss to your lips— no, your beloved never fails to show you just how much you mean to her, just how much she loves you. however… she does love to see the berry-red blush spread across your face at her lavish gifts, the small, adorable “thank you, nadi,” she’s certain to get. she also absolutely lives for doesn’t mind the thank you hugs.

• and so, the first thing you see as you awaken on your one-year anniversary, is an actual mountain of presents. and this is not an exaggeration. no, this is… as large a pile of gifts as you’ve ever seen, sitting in the corner of your shared chambers together. your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sheer volume of presents she’s got you. you had been sure of your gift (singular!!) to her, but looking around you… doubt slips into your mind. you shake it off, calling into your chambers.

• “uh… nadi?” your voice echoes through the empty space as you ruffle your hair with your fingers, swinging your legs out of bed and onto… is that a path of rose petals?? and not even just scattered, an entire, beautifully arranged path of (somehow) amaranthine rose-petals. it’s so soft, and you can’t help laughing in incredulous delight as you savour the silken feel of the path beneath your feet. of course, you follow it. you’d hate for all her obviously meticulous planning to go to waste— no, you’re going to make sure this day goes exactly to plan! you step across the gossamer-soft, sweet-smelling path laid out for you as you approach nadia’s divan next to her paper folding-doors that she usually changes behind. you exhale softly as you take in the breathtaking outfit in front of you, squealing with delight as you sweep it up in your arms and twirl behind the doors.

• when you’ve changed and fixed your hair, (if it’s to your liking ordinarily, she’s even matched accessories for you!) you step out from behind the doors only to be swept towards a dressing-table by one of nadia’s attendants. they’re finished quickly, and as they leave you go to look in the mirror, and stop in your tracks. that’s… you? the person staring back at you is quite unfamiliar. you stare with no small measure of disbelief at smooth, rosy-apple cheeks underneath star-filled eyes, and soft, blushing lips, hanging open.

• if gowns are more to your liking, the one nadia’s chosen for you is absolutely stunning, even more so on your figure. it looks as if it was made for you! in your favourite colour, the hue that undoubtedly looks best on you, it fits at your waist and flairs out prettily, billowing around your ankles as you turn this way and that. the fabric falls off you perfectly, nadia would have spared absolutely no expense, and the shoes she’s picked out accentuate your great beauty even further. whatever your chosen outfit, however, nadia ensures that you look absolutely breathtaking in it.

• once you’re finished, you follow the trail of rose petals through your chamber doors, taking your little gift with you. anyone who sees you on your way absolutely stops in their tracks. anyone who sees you? immediately in love with you. gay or straight, doesn’t matter— they’re absolutely besotted with you now!! you note the lack of servants with a faint smile— nadia’s had most of the palace staff dismissed for the day, a skeleton-crew keeping the palace running on minimal functions for the day. today is your day. it belongs only to the two of you, and she won’t have her duties as countess interfering.

• when the trail finally ends, at the entrance to the palace gardens, you bend ever so slightly (someone cranes their neck at this and gets a little slap upside the head from a mildly irritated portia. don’t interrupt her! she’s fangirling so. hard. all her ship dreams are finally coming true!!) and pick up the parchment note nadia’s carefully scrolled. when you pick it up, it immediately unfurls in your hands to reveal the most elegant calligraphy you’ve ever seen. if you think nadia’s writing (when she isn’t planning or inventing, that is) isn’t the most lovely handwriting you’ve ever seen, you’re wrong. “come and find me,” reads the elegantly curving script in nadia’s hand. even simply reading it, you can almost hear the teasing, lilting air to her voice she would have had as she’d read the note out, and you set out with a warm smile to go and find your love.

• you think you know exactly where to find her, you think with a small smile to yourself. you’re quite enjoying yourself, playing nadia’s game. you could never hope to beat her at any game of wit, but you’d lose to her again and again if it meant having her guiding hands on yours, teaching you patiently, her soft voice tickling your cheek, her soft kiss ‘well done’ as you master a concept. you love this woman so much, it’s almost overtaking. as you’ve been reflecting, your feet have been carrying you towards the part of the garden that has always belonged to the two of you.

• ever since you pulled her away from the insistent clamour of the court to hide in the little clearing you two had unwittingly stumbled upon, you had always met here for your strolls through the gardens, made out read together here, and always enjoyed your time alone, here where nobody can find the two of you. (well, actually… portia found your little spot ages ago, but felt too terrible to interrupt your time together. she’s also probably been leading everyone subtly away from your spot together. “no, they’re not to be bothered! no, it can wait! leave them alone or so help me—”)

• when you finally reach the secluded clearing right in the thicket of the palace gardens, you turn into your safe-haven together, and lose your breath. nadia hasn’t turned towards you yet, but the clearing is strung with beautiful lights that dot the bushes around you and make it seem like there are little fireflies in amongst the bushes, there are new wildflowers planted all through the thicket that gives the little clearing even more of a charming atmosphere, and the soft blanket that’s spread across the floor is a classic daisy-white, edged with lace and strewn with baby’s breath. there’s a feast fit to feed many more than two people on a slightly raised honey-oak wood platter.

• nadia herself is dressed in an outfit you haven’t seen her wear before, a long, flowing cream-coloured dress that fits her waist and flares out in a single layer, a slit running up to show most of a long, perfect leg. her hair is open and tumbling in beautiful, shining amaranthine waves down her back. the dress billows around her arms only to cinch in at the wrist, and you find yourself unable to look away. “nadi…” your voice is soft, and she turns to you, anything she has to say dying on her lips as she inhales sharply.

• “my love, you look… exquisite,” comes her breathy voice, her eyes sparkling as she takes you in wearing the outfit she picked for you. “well, it’s all thanks to you,” you say lightly, trying to take away from the fact that your face is so hot you think it would burn you to touch it. she notices, and stifles her fond smile lest she embarrass you. instead, she strides across the clearing in one quick motion, takes you by the waist, dips you over, and meets your lips with her soft, full ones. you sigh into her, running your hands through your hair as you’ve been longing to do since first you walked into the clearing. she reluctantly pulls you back up again when you break away for air, keeping her arm around your waist as she pulls you close to her again, stroking your cheek as you look into her eyes, lost in how utterly regal she is. you’re seized by another wave of admiration and love for this woman. you can’t even find the words to tell her how much she means to you, and so you pull her to you in another kiss.

• you don’t even realise you’re pouring all your love for her into your kiss both figuratively and literally until she pulls away, looking at you with an utterly overwhelmed expression, tears tinged with rose-petal pink rolling down her cheeks. “oh, nadi i’m so sorry! oh, please don’t cry!! i didn’t mean to— mmrph!” she cuts you off, meeting your lips with such fervour you take a step back— but she pulls you back to her, moulding you into her person as if the two of you are one and the same. but in a way, you are. you’d be a shell of a person without your love, and you know how deep her affection for you is.

• “mc… that was overtaking,” comes her soft voice. “oh nadi, i’m so sorry i wasn’t thinking!” you stumble over your words, berating yourself again and again in your mind. “sometimes it just happens and i don’t realise it, but—” she shushes you, her eyes shining. “you love me… that much?” her soft voice comes, and you pull back in confusion to take her in.

• “uh… nadi. you’re the most stunning, clever, kind, resourceful person i’ve ever met. you’ve got the biggest heart and i absolutely love you for it. you make me so, so happy,” you tell her, a wide smile on your face. “of course my love for you is overtaking! i think i fall in love with you a little more every day,” you confess, a sheepish smile on your face as you look away from her, but she turns you back to her by your chin, pulling you to her for another kiss.

• “you complete me.” is her only reply. you know she can’t put what she feels for you into words, but you look up at her with surprise as she takes your hand suddenly. “mc i can’t put all that i feel for you into words but my aura will allow you to see just how much i adore you,” she tells you with a warm smile as you place your hand on her face, opening your mind to her aura. it’s a simple spell, you shouldn’t be feeling this drained simply from tapping into nadia’s aura, and yet… when the full force of her love for you hits you, you actually stumble. when nadia catches you, her laugh is warm and full of love as she lowers you both down onto the picnic blanket. you snuggle further into her arms, resting your head on her chest as her arms encircle you. “oh, nadia. thank you.” you don’t say anything else, hoping she’ll know just what you’re thanking her for. she does. you think she’ll always understand you, whether you tell her or not, and as she pulls away gently to pull a bowl of your favourite fruit towards the two of you, you’re struck by how lucky you are. how lucky, to have this incredible woman sitting here beside you at all.

• “come here, mc,” comes her soft voice. for once, she doesn’t need to put on a front for anyone. it’s just her and the one she loves. will make as if she’s going to feed you, and then tease you instead, maybe getting a little juice on your cheek and kissing it off you. the rest of your picnic together is spent simply talking quietly, enjoying each other’s company. you dance slowly in the clearing, your head on nadia’s chest as she leads the two of you in w slow dance, her hand securely around your waist. neither of you need to say very much, and the beginnings of sunset comes to find the pair of you stretched out lazily on the picnic blanket. her head rests on your lap as you stroke her hair gently, probably running your fingers through it a few times, and singing her a lullaby or just a sweet and or slow song.

• a.n: yes, i said singing. i don’t care whether you think your voice is pretty or not, (it is. fight me.) nadia loves it because it’s uniquely yours. nothing puts her more at ease than your slow and steady voice reading or singing to her. look, some voices are deemed by most people to be the standard, lovely voice— and if you fall into that category then great! i’m so happy your voice is like that!! but if you don’t, i want you to know that some voices are made just to sing softly-spoken lullabies and i think that’s beautiful. <3

• but towards the end of your picnic, you’ll tell her tentatively, “nadi… ?” she’ll hum in response. “yes, my heart?” “well um… i know you got me all those gifts and i just wanted to say thank you,” you say softly. she sits up, coming to cup your cheek. “anything for you, my dearest. but what troubles you?”

• “well it’s just that my gift isn’t all that, i just made it myself,” you’ll try to tell her, but she’s having none of it. is shushing you by the second sentence. “don’t say ‘just’, mc. i made some of your gifts myself, too. it means that you care for me so, that you know well enough what i’d like,” she tells you with a gentle smile.

• you’ll pull out the small, carefully wrapped package in your favourite colour. “here it is,” you tell her shyly. “i hope you like it.”

• when she unwraps it, she looks to you with shining eyes. “mc, this is beautiful!” she tells you. it’s a jewellery box you smelted using magic. the intricate engravings on the top took an especially long time to do, but they’re in native prakran and your home language, looping elegantly through one another to form confessions of love, linked so that they’ll never end. in the middle are the numbers ‘II’ and ‘0’ in roman numerals, and she looks to you with glassy eyes before you tell her softly to open it.

• when she does, she loses her breath. “mc… is this you and i?” she asks you, looking up at you with the most beautiful smile you can’t help but give one in return. you nod in response, your mouth curving up ever so slightly as you recall the memory. “oh, this was our first ever dance!” she tells you, her eyes alight at the memory. “i remember how we pushed and pulled like magnets. you knew everything i was going to do before i did it, mc, and you trusted me to lead you. it was the first time i truly saw you dance, and it was uniquely beautiful,” she tells you, smiling at you. you can’t help but meet her lips at her adorable expression, pulling her to you as she tilts your head up and to the side, resting her hands on your hipbones.

• she has a gala for you over the next few days where she leads you again in the palatial dance, the two of you dancing in sync and a beautiful rhythm as she spins you around in your beautiful outfit, but today belongs to the two of you.

• you’re not getting any sleep tonight! so enjoy. but seriously, it’s the most loving, gentle night you’ve had with her yet and that’s saying something since nadia takes care of you so much. still so filled with passion, though. the morning after, she’s cancelled everything to simply lay with you, and you’re overjoyed at the unexpected gesture.

• you’ll definitely blush as you catch sight of her thoroughly marked neck, and she’ll pull you to her sleepily. you’ll both get the rest you deserve.

julian

• as you awaken, you notice that your room is empty, and you call out for julian as you step out of bed. “hey, jules!” your call echoes through the empty house.

• julian hasn’t left you a trail of rose petals, but rather detailed, encrypted instructions that lead you through the town, picking up items everywhere you go. every time you solve a clue, a grin spreads across your face— they’re all so thought through, so meaningful. you love this man and all his melodrama so much.

• when you’re finally finished with the list, you find yourself in a secluded section of the whispering woods, looking around yourself in awe. this part of the forest is lit with bioluminescence, beautiful flowers and plants streaked with all sorts of glowing colours curling into the undergrowth and lighting up the night with bursts of colour. julian sits on a dark picnic blanket, a lantern beside him, with a luminous blue, star-like flower held out towards you. “you’ve found me, mc,” comes his playful voice, and you just barrel into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing with all your might.

• all through the picnic, julian softly tells you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you, as you feed him bits of lobster claw, and eventually when the night is over it finds the two of you strolling slowly back to your house, julian’s hand tightly in yours.

muriel

• when you awaken muriel’s right there beside you, pulling you into him gently. “happy one year anniversary, mc,” he murmurs into your hair. the two of you will just snuggle and relax for the entire morning, and towards the middle of the day he’ll tell you with the biggest, tomato-red blush on his face that he… picked out an outfit for you that he thought you’d like, (with asra’s help, of course— or maybe he asked nadia, and she was surprised and taken aback but utterly delighted to help her friend) and would you like to get dressed now… ? he’ll come and pick you up later, when everything’s all set up.

• you take in the outfit with a soft smile. although it’s simple, you love it. you dress right away and spend the rest of the afternoon matching accessories and shoes, and doing your hair. if you like dresses, it’s a simple forest-green summer dress that hugs your waist and flares out, that you pair with a little locket muriel made you when he confessed his love to you. you’re wearing heels or flats, but either way you look lovely. if not a gown, you wear a simple forest-green shirt and a pair of linen trousers. either way, the simplicity makes you look radiant.

• when muriel comes back to get you, he takes you in with wide eyes, a blush spreading steadily across his face. “whoa… mc you’re so pretty,” he’ll tell you with a soft smile, and you can’t resist pressing your lips to his. he takes your hand in his and walks you through the forest. little murmurs of “mc you’re so lovely,” and “mc i love you so much,” break the calm forest noise as the two of you stroll through wildflowers and holly, until you reach a clearing full of wildflowers. it’s night now, dusk has long since fallen, and the meadow looks even more beautiful as you turn back to muriel with a grin. “muri it’s so pretty! thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him with a soft smile.

• he pulls you forward to the picnic blanket, and the two of you lay down with your faces to the stars. as he feeds you, he’ll point out constellations and tell you their stories, his voice soft and full of love. when he tells you the story of orion and the pleiades, you groan in protest you find that he still chases them across the night sky. “i’d chase you across the night sky for all eternity,” comes his quiet voice, his warm breath tickling your cheek as crickets chirrup quietly all around the two of you.

• come morning, the two of you accidentally fell asleep in the clearing… but neither of you are even mildly unhappy about that, and you laugh together the entire way home, making jokes and retelling the stories from last night in silly voices.

• muriel cuddles with you for most of today, as well.

portia

• when you wake, it’s to the sweet smell of something baking, and you throw your feet out of bed immediately, sprinting to the kitchen as you take in portia, with tousled morning hair in her sleep-shirt and underwear, baking your favourite desert. you sneak up behind her and tickle her sides, and she almost drops the tray she’s holding, setting it down quickly to turn to you, a stern expression on her face. it quickly melts away as she’s reminded of how adorable you are, and instead she feeds you a bit of batter or custard, kissing your nose as you give her a big morning hug, coming up to meet her lips and running your fingers through her hair.

• “oh, mc…” she signs into your lips. “good morning to you too, my love,” comes your answering voice, a smile on your lips. her lips curve up as well. “happy one year anniversary, mc!!” she shouts, barrelling into you with another bear hug. “oh, sweet arcana, let me die here,” you sigh into her arms before she thwacks your forehead lightly. “nuh uh, mc. you’ve already done that once,” she reminds you as you grin sheepishly.

• when she’s finished baking, you two probably take a nice warm bath together. you’ve each bought each other outfits, and you go to seperwre corners of the house, giggling softly, to change. your outfit is definitely cottagecore, and as you change into it you’re taken by how cute it looks. if you prefer gowns, yours is a classic white sleeveless picnic dress that hugs your waist and flares out around your ankles, with a tie at the back that folds sweetly into a bow. you’ve got straw wedge heels that go perfectly with the dress, and classic accessories to go along with it. if you prefer trousers, you have a classic set of light brown trousers and a cream-coloured shirt with a classic hat that matches your trousers.

• you’ve bought portia a lovely petal-pink dress with billowing sleeves that cinch around the elbows, that flutters out to the ankles, (you had it measured specifically so she doesn’t trip in it) and a soft tie to go around her waist. you’re hoping she leaves her hair open, and as the two of you meet in the kitchen in the middle of the house, both of you smile at the other. before either of you can say anything, pepi gives a proud little “peep!” and sits in between the both of you, tilting her head. the two of you haven’t left her out of the fun, and she’s got a sweet little cream-and-pink coloured bow around her neck. the two of you laugh as portia turns to you. “i knew you’d look amazing in that, sweetheart!” she tells you with a grin. “give us a twirl!” you do so, and spin her in your arms, pulling her in for a kiss as the two of you grab the picnic basket and head out.

• the meadow is big and beautiful, stretching into the distance. there are wildflowers everywhere, and as you lay out the picnic blanket you can’t help pulling portia up to you and away from the blanket to dance with you among the flowers. dancing with portia isn’t like dancing with any of the other main 6. dancing with portia is… instinctual. you’re led by your shared love and trust in each other, and it’s gentle but sure. you know she’s there to lead you in the dance, and her hand around your waist is secure. as you dance, she rests her head on your chest as you now take control, leading the two of you in a slow spin and then dipping her to meet her lips with yours.

• you feed each other, and read to each other, simply enjoying each other’s company until the sun sets.

lucio

• lucio has the entire day planned to a tee. the outfit he’s picked out for you is obviously lavish and probably worth more than some people make in a lifetime. gifts are also his love language, but he’s very domineering in what he’ll give you. it all conforms to what he wants you to wear and like. and so, even if you aren’t too into the overly expensive outfit, you wear it anyway and take yourself down to the gala he’s planned specifically for today.

• “ah, my darling mc!” he calls to you, as a smile lights up his face. he pulls you to him, dipping you for the whole court to see as he rights you again, wrapping his arm around your waist. “oh, mc. you do know that i love you more than life itself, don’t you?” comes his dramatic voice, soft so only you can hear.

• when the banquet is finished, get ready to not sleep at all have a lovely relaxing night.

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours (II)

Content: part 2 to an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time!! includes a karaoke bar in Cleveland, Ohio, sharing of motel rooms (oh my god there was only one bed 👁️👁️), and a lesbian wedding in the Catskills

Warnings: language, alcohol, NSFW content, making fun of Nebraska and The Notebook

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 32k

A/N: okay can I just say that I am so glad this is finally done. I have been working on this fic for over a month!!! the entire thing is over 51k in length!!!!!! my word doc is almost 100 pages!!!! this was meant to be a fun story about enemies to lovers stuck on a road trip!!!!! what happened!!!! but thank you guys so much for all the love and support and interest in this story <3 I was really nervous about splitting it up (which looking back was a good choice because again. it’s so long.) but you all showed so much love for the story and the characters!!!! I’d like to give a special shout out to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and miss alex @darthstyles​ for proof reading, and miss andrea again for this pretty header image!! if you’re looking for any good reads after this, I highly recommend checking out their masterlists!! and as always, if you like this fic, please like it AND reblog it!! and shoot me a message about it!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by ALL content creators, and is the main motivation for us to create more for you all to enjoy!!

{masterlist}

{masterlist}

here is everyone’s wedding looks!! and HERE is a lil moodboard of Jo and Laure’s wedding so you can sense the vibes!!

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

It’s almost instantaneous, Y/N notices, how quickly and easily she and Harry fall into a rhythm of friendship. From the moment she wakes up the next morning to a blue sky, the storm long passed, and Harry holding out a cup of black coffee for her, the stress and anxiety of the previous day is gone. There’s no watching herself around Harry, biting her tongue to stop herself from snapping over every small motion he makes as he fidgets in the driver’s seat.  There’s no irritation caused by the way he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, or how he asks any question that crosses his mind, speaking out his random chain of thoughts just as often.  

The thing that Y/N’s come to realize is that Harry is so much more interesting than she’d ever thought. He’s certainly more interesting than the endless fields of corn that whip by her window as he drives down the interstate.  His jokes are dumb, but he says them with such a big grin on his face that she can’t help but laugh.  His comments are strange, but Y/N finds herself enjoying the weird words that slip from his mouth without being caught by a filter.

“If we were in a Children of The Corn situation,” Harry begins, raising his voice to be heard over the sounds of Simon and Garfunkel. “Do you think you’d be able to outsmart the cult?  Or would you get sacrificed to He Who Walks Behind the Rows?”

Y/N half chokes on the bottle of water she’d just raised to her lips, and coughs the liquid from her lungs as she turns to give Harry an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

“We’re in Nebraska. That’s where it takes place, right?” Harry asks, glancing at Y/N from behind his sunglasses. “There’s, like, a weird child cult, and they kill all the adults in town for the corn harvest, or something, and then this couple on a road trip discovers them, and tries to stop them.  Do you think you’d be able to?”

“Do I think I’d be able to stop a child cult?  Or would I get sacrificed to their weird corn god?  That’s what you’re asking me?” Although she can’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of the question, her mind is already appraising the situation Harry’s proposed. “I think I’d be able to stop them.  They’re just kids, right?  You just can’t be afraid to—you know—” Y/N drags her thumb across her throat, and Harry quirks up an eyebrow at her casual response.

“You’d kill a bunch of kids?”

“If the kids were evil and wanted to kill me?  Absolutely.” Y/N leans her head back on the head rest, still keeping her eyes locked on Harry. “Wouldn’t you?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in response. “I don’t know.  I’d try to reason with them, I think.”

Y/N extends a finger gun at him, clicking her tongue in sync with the motion. “And that’s why they’d sacrifice you and not me.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head slowly as he turns his attention back to the road. “Lovely. Wouldn’t you try to save me?”

Y/N hums, pretending to think the question over. “That depends on how annoying you’ve been that day.”

“You’re such a sweetheart, Y/N, you really are.” Harry laughs more, but stops abruptly as he spots a sign to the right of the road. “Oh!  There’s a souvenir shop at the next exit!”

A groan falls from Y/N’s mouth as her head flops back, already sensing defeat. “No, Harry, you don’t need another keychain—”

“You don’t know that! Maybe I could get a corn stalk keychain!”

…

“You know, I could drive for a bit.  If you’d like.”

Harry looks up at Y/N with an apprehensive gaze, his nimble fingers halfway through attaching a new silver key chain in the shape of Nebraska to his key ring. “What?”

“You’ve been driving for three days straight.” Y/N leans over the passenger side of the car, resting her arms on the sun-warmed roof. “I could drive.  I know how to; I just don’t do it in L.A. because the traffic is annoying. But the interstate is practically empty, so…”

“Uh, no offense, Y/N, but…” Harry opens the drivers door, a small smile curving the corner of his lip. “No one drives Stevie but me.  And besides, she’s a stick.  Have you ever driven one?”

“Well, no.” Y/N admits, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “But you could show me.”

Harry inhales deeply, glancing around the souvenir shop parking lot.  Y/N can tell he’s surveying the area, searching for a reason to say no, but as far as she can tell, there isn’t one.  There are no other cars around, and the area is mostly flat, giving her a good space to practice driving in.  With a defeated look on his face, Harry exhales sharply and gives a quick nod as he takes a step back from the driver’s side. “Fine.  Get in.”

Y/N and Harry swap sides in the car, although Y/N is much more enthusiastic about it than Harry is. From the moment she climbs in and begins adjusting his seat, a pained look comes over Harry’s face, making her roll her eyes.

“Oh, come on.  You’re a giant, Harry, I have to adjust things so I can reach the pedals.” Y/N scoffs, reaching up to adjust the rear view mirror. “You can put them all back later.”

“Yeah.” Harry sucks in another breath before pushing his sunglasses up into his chestnut curls. “Okay, so…there’s three pedals on the floor.  The right one is gas, the middle is the brake, and the left is the clutch. And then here—” Harry takes Y/N’s right hand and places it over the gear shift. “This is how you shift.  There’s six gears, right?  And their use depends on the speed you’re going, so you’re going to start with one—” His hand squeezes hers as he shifts the gear shift over and up to the left with ease. “Which is here.  Here’s two—” He shifts the gear shift down to the left, and continues to move it as he speaks. “Three.  Four.  Five. And reverse.  Got it?”

“I think so.” Y/N nods, her hand flexing beneath Harry’s large palm.  His rings feel cool against her warm skin, and she has to admit, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. “Up left, down left, up middle, down middle, up right, down right.  Right?”

“Right.” Harry lifts his hand off hers to point towards her feet, which are sitting on the carpet cover in front of the pedals. “You want to start with your foot pressed firmly on the clutch, the one—yeah.  There, to the left.  Keep it pressed there.  Is it pressed there?”

“Since you first told me to press it, yeah.” Y/N furrows her brow in concentration, which is caused both from learning how to drive manually, and the effort it takes to stop herself from laughing at the nervousness in Harry’s voice. “Now what?”

“Take off the parking brake.” Harry pulls the lever down himself, making sure Y/N is focused on her other movements. “And the car is in neutral, so you can turn the key in the ignition.” He holds out his keys towards her.

Y/N takes the cool metal from his hands, quickly finding the right key for the Impala and slipping it in. The car roars to life, a sound which is now familiar to her ears. “Okay.  There.”

“Good.” Harry pauses for a moment before reaching across Y/N’s body and buckling her seatbelt, which she had forgotten in the excitement to drive. “Safety first.” He sits back in the passenger seat, fixing his seatbelt across his own body. “I have a feeling we’ll be needing these.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N sticks her tongue out at him, her eyebrows and nose wrinkling as she makes a face. “What do I do now?”

“Now…” Harry fidgets with his seatbelt again as he moves forward in the passenger seat, one hand bracing against the dash as he directs her. “Press the clutch and the brake at the same time, like that.  Now move the gear shift into first gear.”

Y/N does as he says, pushing the gear shift over and up to the left.  It takes much more pressure for her to move it without Harry’s help, she notes, but doesn’t let the effort show on her face. “Then?”

“Take your foot off the brake.” Harry instructs, caution laced through his voice. “And slowly—slowly! —release the clutch as you press down gently on the gas.”

“Okay…” Lifting her left foot first, Y/N does her best to match the motion with her right foot, pressing down at the same pace as she lifts the other.  Her movement, however, isn’t as smooth as she wants it to be, and the car lunges forward in a choppy motion.

“Careful!” Harry says loudly, twisting his body to face Y/N as he continues bracing himself.  His entire body is tense, his shoulders practically up by his ears as he appraises Y/N. “You have to do it at the same time!”

“Alright, alright—” Y/N tries again, focusing on matching her feet to each other.  This time, the movement is smoother, and the car begins to drive forward slowly, moving faster as Y/N presses down more. “Is that—am I doing it?” Y/N asks nervously, navigating herself slowly through the parking lot. “Is that it?”

“That’s it.  You’re doing good, yeah.” Harry nods slowly, but Y/N can see the strain in his jaw from the corner of her eye. “Now let’s try…let’s try shifting gears, so you can speed up.”

“Try not to sound so terrified.” Y/N mutters, turning the wheel to guide the car around a lamp post.

Harry ignores her comment. “You’re going to do the same motion, but this time release the gas while pressing down on the clutch.  Then move the gear shifter to two, like before, and—”

Before Harry can finish speaking, Y/N attempts to change into second gear.  The car lurches again as she releases the gas and presses on the clutch, and the jagged motion only gets worse after she shifts into second.

“Slowly, Y/N—” Agitation is clear in Harry’s voice, and his knuckles turn white as he grips the dash. “Slower!”

Another lunge of the car shifts Y/N to the side, and her foot slips off the clutch completely. With a sickening sound, the car lurches to a stop, despite Y/N’s foot still pressed on the gas.  “What—?”

Harry, who’s been wincing throughout the entire ordeal, sucks in a sharp breath. “You stalled her.” He says, shaking his head with a quiet horror.

Y/N tugs on her bottom lip as she glances at him from the corner of her eye, her voice hesitant. “Is…that bad?”

“Is that—?” Harry’s green irises snap to meet hers, wide open and shocked. “Yeah, it’s bad. That’s enough practice for today, I think.  I’m driving again.”

Y/N tries to protest. “But—”

“Nope!  Out!” Harry shakes his head firmly, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the car in one swift motion. “Come on!”

With a defeated sigh, Y/N unbuckles herself, climbing out of the driver’s door that Harry’s just opened for her.  “Sorry.” She mumbles, walking around to the passenger’s side and climbing back in.

Harry gives her a small smile, albeit a pained one, as he begins to move his feet over the brake and clutch, shifting the car into neutral. “It’s fine.  That was pretty good for a first practice, really. Just…maybe it’s too soon for highway driving.”

Y/N buckles her seatbelt as Harry restarts the engine, and within a few minutes, he has his signal flipped back on to head back to the highway. “You know, mostly I wanted to drive so that I could pick the music.” She says casually, resting her chin in her hand after propping it up against the arm rest. “I’m getting a little tired of The Beatles on repeat.”

Harry laughs, raking his hand through his curls before shifting gears with ease. “Oh really?  What would you put on, if you had a choice?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugs, taking a moment to think. “We could listen to a nice sonata, maybe. Oh!  Or Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.  I haven’t listened to it in full in a while.”

A sound of surprise and indignation leaves Harry’s mouth. “Tchaikovsky—?  No!  No, you can’t listen to classical music on a road trip!  You need music that you can scream the lyrics to!”

“Is there a rulebook about what you can and can’t listen to on a road trip?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she poses the sarcastic question. “I wasn’t aware.”

“There’s an unofficial rulebook, yes.” Harry risks a glance over at Y/N, his green eyes alight. “And one of the most important—if not the most important—rules is that any song you listen to has to be able to be sung loudly while driving down a highway. Everyone knows that.”

“My bad.” Y/N says sarcastically, toeing off her shoes to better cross her legs beneath herself. “So, in short, we’re stuck listening to your playlist, huh?”

“Now you get it.” Harry shoots her a cheeky grin, pointing with his free hand. “You can change the song, though.  If you’d like.”

“Really?” Y/N reaches down to the small catch all tray between them, where Harry’s phone sits connected to a car charger.  She picks it up carefully, raising an eyebrow in question. “May I?”

When Harry nods, Y/N clicks on the screen, which displays the controls to the Spotify playlist currently being projected through the car’s speakers.  Unsurprisingly, a Beatles song is moving across the scene, causing Y/N to press the skip button immediately.  The next song is by The Killers, called “Spaceman,” and while she likes it, it’s not really something she feels like listening to in the moment. She hits skip again, passing over “Night Moves,” “Piano Man,” and “Seven Wonders,” (the last skip earning a sound of protest from Harry) before a familiar album cover pops up on the screen.

“Hold on.” Y/N says, mouth agape as the 1990s Vocoder sound fills the car. “You listen to Cher?”

“Are you kidding?” Harry’s surprised expression matches hers. “Of course!  She’s a treasure.” He taps his fingers to the beat of “Believe” while his head bops to the same pattern. “I love this song.  It’s a good one.”

Making a sound of agreement, Y/N lets her gaze drift to the window, watching the agriculture fields that whiz by. “Yeah.” She murmurs, losing herself in the beat. “‘No matter how hard I try…you keep pushing me aside’…”

“‘And I can’t break through’…” Harry’s voice joins with hers, louder and surer of himself than hers had been. “‘There’s no talking to you’…”

Y/N’s head turns from the window, locking eyes with Harry for the split second he looks away from the road ahead of them. “‘It’s so sad that you’re leaving…it takes time to believe it’…”

“‘But after all is said and done’…” The grin playing on Harry’s pink lips grows, popping out his dimples as he continues to sing. “‘You’re gonna be the lonely one’…”

With a grin pasted across her own face, so big that her cheeks ache, Y/N joins Harry for the chorus, yelling the lyrics more than singing them. “‘Do you believe in life after love?  I can feel something inside me say…I really don’t think you’re strong enough’!” Harry’s hand drifts down to the volume dial, turning the music up until the bass thumps through the entire car.  Y/N can feel it in her chest like a second heart beat.

“‘Do you believe in life after love?’” Encouraged by each other, Harry and Y/N scream the lyrics even louder on the repeat, straining their necks as much as their vocal cords. “‘I can feel something inside me say…I really don’t think you’re strong enough’!”

When Harry’s hand moves again, Y/N thinks that he’s reaching for the dial again, perhaps to turn it down, but then his hand makes a questioning motion, and Y/N realizes that Harry, ever the one for dramatics, is acting out the lines.

“‘What was I supposed to do?  Sit around and wait for you?’” Harry points at Y/N then, an exaggerated look on his face as his whole body moves to the beat. “‘Well I can’t do that!  And there’s no turning back’…”

Not wanting to be one upped, Y/N pushes up the sleeve of her sweater, exposing her wrist enough that she can tap on it. “‘I need time to move on’…” A fit of giggles interrupt the next line as she and Harry both raise their arms to flex their muscles. “‘I need a love to feel strong’…” Y/N taps on her temple as she sways her body to the beat the best she can in the car. “‘Because I’ve got time to think it through’…” When she turns to point at Harry, she finds him already pointing at her, once again in sync with her thoughts. “‘And maybe I’m too good for you, oh’!”

They repeat the chorus in the same way as before, screaming the lyrics as loud as they can, pulling dramatic facial expressions and dance moves to match.  Halfway through the repeat, Harry attempts to mimic the classic Cher move of pushing hair over the shoulder, and the ridiculous sight is enough to send Y/N into another fit of laughter.  She almost misses the entrance for the bridge, but recovers just in time to yell the lyrics in sync with Harry.

Forming fists and dragging her arms towards her dramatically, and Harry doing the same with his free hand, the two of them screw their faces up as they sing passionately. “‘Well I know that I’ll get through this…because I know that I am strong’…” The flexing of arms returns for a moment before being replaced by impassioned pleading hand gestures. “‘I don’t need you anymore…I don’t need you anymore…no, I don’t need you anymore…no, I don’t need you anymore’…”

Although they’d been energetic in the previous choruses, Harry and Y/N give their all for the final chorus, bouncing and yelling and gesturing as much as they can as they drive down the interstate at sixty-five miles per hour.  They quiet for a moment as the beat falls out, singing the lyrics at a slightly lower volume, but when the beat returns, they scream the lyrics one final time in unison before the music fades out.

The song changes to “Baby Driver,” and Harry reaches to lower the volume as he and Y/N both struggle to catch their breath.  They laugh between pants, hands on chests as they rapidly rise and fall.  Y/N lets her head fall back against the back of the seat, shifting her legs so only one rests on the seat beneath her thigh.

“That was a good one.” She admits, pushing her now-sweaty hair out of her face. “I’ll give you that. Cher was a good choice.”

“Do you see what I meant, now?” Harry asks breathlessly, his grin still plastered to his face. “Do you still want to listen to Tchaikovsky?”

In lieu of a reply, Y/N reaches for Harry’s phone again, skipping songs until “Jessie’s Girl” begins to drift through the speakers. “Turn it up again, Harry.”

There’s a twinkle in Harry’s eyes when he does as she says.

…

“I can sleep on the floor.” Harry volunteers, tugging his hand through his stretched out curls as his eyes scan the interior of the motel room. “Make a little bed out of pillows.  Then you can have the bed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry.” Y/N shakes her head adamantly, setting her bag on the small table in front of the room’s mirror. “You can’t sleep on the floor!”

Harry purses his lips. “I’ll take the chair, then.  I can stretch out on it—”

“Please, you have limbs like Gumby.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N unzips her bag and pulls out her toiletries. “You can’t sleep comfortably in a chair.  We can deal with one bed for one night.  It’s not the end of the world.”

Four days ago, Y/N might have considered having to share a bed with Harry the end of the world.  If someone had told her about the lack of available motel rooms on the road, Y/N might have never left L.A.  And that first night in Utah, she remembers, she would have rather smother Harry in his sleep than share a bed with him.  Now, however, they’re in Iowa City, and for all her talk of how much she despised Harry before, she’s found herself quite fond of him in a short period of time.

There’s a list of reasons why that’s happened, she thinks, as she pulls out her charger to plug into the wall.  Their forced close proximity in the car and motel rooms probably has something to do with it, as well as Harry being her only company for the last four days.  And maybe, just maybe, a small part of it is due to the way Harry looks in the dim motel room light as he flops back on the bed, his red and black striped t-shirt riding up just the slightest bit to expose the fern tattoos lining the bottom of his stomach.  The way his jade irises manage to sparkle in the light of the lamp, or how his chipped nail polish still manages to look elegant as his fingers dance along his chest and twist his rings over his knuckles.  The way his lips, despite his constant habit of biting them, look so soft and so pink, and how Y/N thinks she could just—

Y/N clears her throat, stopping her thoughts in their tracks.  It’s really been too long since she’s been around another human being, she thinks, keeping her back to Harry as she roots through her suitcase for her pajamas. Four days is too long for her to be with the same person, with hardly any alone time, and she’s wondering if she’ll be able to have alone time any time soon when her fingers brush over the familiar smooth silicone surface of her vibrator.

Y/N pauses, pulling her fingers back as if she’s been burned.  Right.  She’d tossed that in there just before leaving L.A., just in case she needed some stress relief.  Glancing back over her shoulder subtly, Y/N sees that Harry has his phone out now, his nimble fingers tapping along the screen as he lays on the bed.  Maybe some stress relief is exactly what she needs.

Grabbing the first articles of clothing she can get her hands on, Y/N carefully wraps her vibrator within the fabric, trying to fold it so that it doesn’t look like its hiding a small purple sex toy.  Once that’s done to the best of her ability, she grabs her toiletry bag, tucking it under her arm as she quickly makes her way to the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower.” She mutters, closing the door behind her without waiting for Harry’s response.

Although the ritual of stripping from her clothes, starting the shower and adjusting the temperature settings, and relaxing her muscles underneath the (albeit low pressure) stream of water is familiar, it takes Y/N a few minutes to work up the courage to run her hands down the length of her body.  She takes her time as her fingers dance over the planes of her breasts, down her stomach, fluttering over her hips before making their way to the crevice where her thighs flow into her core.  Taking a deep breath, Y/N begins with just her fingers, running them through her wet folds slowly and carefully.

She allows herself the time to warm herself up, waiting until she can dip her index finger inside her slick entrance and circle its way around her clit before grabbing her vibrator from the shower ledge.  She flicks it on to its lowest setting, making sure the electronic buzz is hidden beneath the sound of the shower before gently circling the tip around her clit.

The relief, Y/N finds, is instantaneous.  A breathless sigh slips past her lips as she rubs the toy over her folds, delighting in the fluttering sensation it leaves behind.  Without breaking contact, Y/N turns the toy up a level, biting her lip to keep from moaning as she presses it back to her clit.

Despite the tension building up in her body as Y/N works herself to an orgasm, this is the most relaxed she’s felt in days.  The tension, she finds, is so much sweeter than the anxiety and stress she’s been experiencing throughout the road trip.  Although her shoulders tense, it’s different than the knots worked into her muscles from hours in the car.  Although her leg feels as though it may cramp from its position perched on the bath tub ledge, the burn is more welcome than the ache of being stuck in one seated position.

If someone were to ask her what crossed her mind when Y/N brought herself over the edge, what thoughts drifted into her head as she gripped the wall of the shower with one hand as her core convulsed in the most delightfully sinful way, Y/N would tell them that it was nothing specific.  Strong hands, she’d say, smoothly and knowledgeably caressing her body.  A low voice whispering dirty nothings in her ear. A deep breath flowing down her neck as cherry lips and white teeth nipped and kissed down her skin and across her collar bones.  Nothing specific.  And Y/N would believe it when she’d say it.

But if anyone were to be listening at the exact moment that she thrust the vibrator inside her, panting and whimpering as her index and middle finger worked over her clit and brought her to climax, they’d hear the breathless whisper of a name that Y/N herself didn’t even know she was saying.

The nice thing about getting off in the shower, Y/N thinks, once she’s regained enough function in her head to do so, is that cleanup is a breeze.  Within fifteen more minutes, Y/N’s washed her body, shampooed and conditioned her hair, and is climbing out of the shower with the motel towel wrapped tightly around her body.  Within another few minutes, she’s towel dried to the best of her ability, and finally realizing that the pajamas she’d grabbed in her quick bid for the washroom happened to be the pink silk set that she’d tucked at the bottom of her suitcase four days ago.

Cheeks burning, Y/N weighs her options.  She could wrap the towel around herself, she thinks, and instruct Harry to look away as she snuck back to her suitcase and grabbed the sports bra and boxers she’d been sleeping in for the past few nights.  Or…she runs her fingers over the lace trim of the set.  These pajamas were quite comfortable, and the silk would feel so nice on her body after multiple nights of scratching motel sheets.  And, if she’s being honest with herself, her other pajamas are quite dirty from a new nights of use.  Now that her body feels completely relaxed and clean, she’d like to put on something to match.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Y/N does her best to seem casual and calm, still running her towel through her set hair, her clothes and toiletry bag (where she’s hidden her vibrator) tucked under one arm. “The shower’s free.” She says to Harry, barely glancing at him as she returns her items to her bag. “Although the water pressure is pretty shit.”

A low chuckle echoes from Harry’s mouth. “I expect nothing less.” He says, and Y/N thinks she may be in the clear when the laughter stops abruptly.

Biting back a sigh, Y/N straightens her back, knowing that she can’t avoid the conversation forever. “What?” She asks, tossing her towel on the motel room chair.

Harry is sitting up on the bed, his phone still held loosely in his right hand as his left props his body into an upright position.  As his eyes scan over Y/N’s body, his tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his lips without Harry being aware he’s doing it. “What—” His voice cracks, and a flush creeps up Harry’s pale neck as he clears his throat. “What are you wearing?”

Y/N begins to comb her fingers through her hair, sectioning it off before she begins to braid. “Pajamas.”

A scoff leaves Harry’s mouth. “No, no, those aren’t pajamas.  That’s…lingerie.”

“Yeah, well…I brought them as pajamas.” Y/N mumbles, twisting her hair into the desired pattern before tying it off with the ponytail on her wrist. “Look, I—my other ones are dirty, and I didn’t want to put a sweaty sports bra back on right after showering.  But…if it makes you uncomfortable, then I can—”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Harry cuts over her, giving a quick shake of his head. “I just—we’re sharing the bed tonight, so I wasn’t sure—as long as you’re comfortable—”

“I am.” Y/N says quickly, cheeks beginning to burn as the conversation continues. “I’m comfortable.”

“Alright then.” If Harry’s cheeks are any indication, then he’s feeling the same thing Y/N is. “I’m…going to shower, then.”

And that’s how, two hours later, after watching a rerun of When Harry Met Sally, Y/N ends up in bed next to Harry Styles in lingerie that she’d bought to impress her ex-boyfriend.

Harry, to his credit, is doing his best to draw a line between them.  His lanky body is practically hanging off the edge of the bed with how far he’s pulled himself from her, his defined back turned towards Y/N. Her own posture mimics his, back turned from Harry, clinging to the edge of the bed in an attempt to respect his personal space.  The problem, Y/N thinks, exhaling hard as she shifts under the covers, is that she doesn’t like sleeping on her side like this, and she especially doesn’t like tensing up to make sure her limbs stay in their designated zone.  It feels awkward and uncomfortable, and after laying in bed for over an hour, she finally huffs before turning onto her back, her hands settling down over the sheets.

“Harry.” She whispers, twisting her head to the side as she struggles to make out the shape of his body in the dark. “Are you awake?”

The bed creaks as Harry’s body shifts towards her, twisting on his hip to be able to meet Y/N’s eyes. “Yeah.  Can’t sleep.”

“Me either.” Y/N rolls over again, propping herself up on her side to face him as he matches the motion. They’re closer now, their faces about six inches away as they rest their heads on their pillows.  Y/N can smell the mint of Harry’s toothpaste on his breath. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Harry shrugs one shoulder as best he can while horizontal. “Dunno.” He mumbles, voice low in the quiet darkness. “Don’t think I’m used to sharing a bed with someone and not…being close to them.”

“Yeah.” Y/N matches the tone of her voice to his, as if speaking quietly and gently will preserve whatever it is hanging between them. “Feels weird.”

Moving his hands from his chest to tuck them under his pillow, Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous look apparent in his eyes even in the darkness. “Would it be okay if I moved closer?” He asks, caution written into every word. “It’s just—staying on the edge isn’t very comfortable.”

Four days ago, Y/N would have shoved him off the bed.  Now, however, she finds herself nodding, pulling her top leg into a bent position, her bare knee brushing over Harry’s beneath the sheets. “That’s fine.”

Y/N watches the way Harry’s body visibly relaxes, the tension she didn’t even know he had leaving his body.  Trying his best to move without disturbing her, Harry turns over to lay on his toned stomach, and the sheets pull down around his body enough that Y/N can see how his Rolling Stones t-shirt has ridden up his back.  Without thinking, Y/N pulls one hand from beneath her pillow and reaches for the sheets, pulling them back around Harry to his mid back.

“Thanks.” His voice is raspy, half muffled by the pillow as he tucks his hands beneath his head, eyes still locked with hers with an intensity that, during daylight hours, would have made her cheeks burn.

But in the safety of the darkness, Y/N simply returns her hand to its previous position, allowing the lack of light to masquerade the concern written onto her face. “You’re welcome.”

…

“I’m not saying The Notebook is a bad movie, I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense!”

Harry gives Y/N an incredulous look as he flips on his turn signal, shifting gears in the car so he can exit the highway and head towards a gas station. “What do you mean, it doesn’t make sense?” He demands, turning the car over the curve of the road. “They’re in love!  Noah reads to Ally to help her remember that!  What about that doesn’t make sense?”

“Well, the dialogue for one.” Y/N shrugs, tapping her fingers to the beat of “Heroes” that’s drifting through the speakers.

Harry scoffs as he pulls into an empty gas station, slowing the car to a gentle stop in front of a pump. “Give me one example of the dialogue not making sense!”

“‘If you’re a bird, I’m a bird’?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she quotes the movie. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“What do you mean, what does it mean?” Harry demands, shifting the car into neutral and pulling the emergency brake before turning off the ignition. “It’s romantic!  It’s talking about—about reincarnation, and past lives—”

“And what about how Noah and Ally first met, huh?  She was on a date with someone else!  She wasn’t interested in him!” As she rants, Y/N’s volume grows, almost drowning out David Bowie completely. “And then he climbed up a Ferris wheel, demanded that she go out with him, and said that if she didn’t, he was going to kill himself!”

Harry points an accusatory finger at her, his expression fierce. “Don’t!  It was romantic—”

Y/N pushes his finger away, holding her stance adamantly. “It was creepy!  And don’t even get me started on the arguments, and the lying, and—and she was engaged to someone else!  Noah was a homewrecker!”

Harry takes a deep breath, squeezing his keys in his hand as his eyes close for a moment. “I’m going to fill Stevie with petrol.” He says, his tone careful and controlled. “And when I get back, I am going to give you a very long lecture on why you’re wrong.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she grabs Harry’s sunglasses from the cupholder next to her, slipping them onto her face as she sticks her tongue out at him. “Whatever.  Go pump the gas, Styles.”

With one last withering look, Harry climbs out of the car and slams the door behind him, turning his attention to the rusted gas pump in the middle of nowhere along the Illinois interstate.  Y/N can’t help but laugh at the irritated look on his face, and how he flips her the bird when he catches her laughing.  Small giggles still roll through her as she turns her attention to Harry’s phone, choosing a new song as David Bowie slowly begins to fade out. She’s just begun scrolling through her options when her own phone begins to vibrate from where she has it tucked underneath her leg.

Y/N sets Harry’s phone back down on his seat as she grabs her own, her eyes widening when she sees Brant’s name lighting up her screen.  She should answer, she thinks, as she hasn’t spoken to him in person since their conversation in Colorado.  That conversation seems like a lifetime ago, and Y/N’s thumb hovers over the “accept” icon, her teeth tugging her bottom lip over and over.  She should answer.  She should.  Brant will probably want to discuss work, and find out when she’s coming back so they can plan another dinner, because he always likes to schedule things at least a week in advance.  He’ll tell her about his coworkers, what the weather in L.A. has been like (as if it ever changes), and maybe, just maybe, if he has time, he’ll tell her about a new Netflix series he’s just starting to watch.  Y/N should answer.

The driver’s side door opens with a creak, and Harry bends down to poke his head inside. “Alright, I’m going to go inside the petrol station and get us some snacks, and then I’m going to explain to you exactly how wrong you are.” He says firmly, mouth pressed into a flat line of determination.  His expression falters for just a moment as he sees the conflicted look on Y/N’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Y/N says quickly, pressing “ignore” and tucking her phone back under her leg. “Just go get the snacks while I create my counterargument, alright?”

Harry rolls his eyes, reaching into the car and pulling his sunglasses off Y/N’s face.  He slips them over his own eyes, his expression back to its determined look. “Fine.  Do you want Cheezies?”

“Uh huh.  The crunchy ones!” Y/N reminds him, grabbing his phone from the seat again to continue selecting a new song.

“Right.  The crunchy ones.” Harry shoots her a finger gun as he shuts the car door. “You can eat them as I prove you wrong!”

“You wish!” Y/N yells back, the phone call all but forgotten as she watches Harry walk into the gas station.

…

“We should go out tonight.”

Y/N sets her duffel bag on the queen-sized bed situated in the center of the motel room, giving Harry a confused look as she registers his words. “Go out?” She asks, tugging on the zipper of the bag. “Go out where?”

“To a bar.” Harry flops down on the bed next to her bag, leaning back on his elbows as he speaks. “All we’ve done this entire trip is drive, and we’re getting to the Catskills tomorrow.  We can have a bit of fun tonight, can’t we?”

Y/N snorts as she rifles through her bag, pulling out her phone charger and favourite book. “It’s a road trip; driving is the point, isn’t it?  Besides, what kind of bars are in Cleveland, Ohio?”

Harry shrugs lightly. “We passed a sign for one on our way into town.  And we haven’t had dinner yet, so we should go get something to eat anyways.  And I haven’t had a pint in forever.”

“I doubt you’ll like the pints from a dive bar in Cleveland, Harry.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plugs her charger into the wall. “I don’t think they’ll be up to your standards.”

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” Harry matches her eye roll with ease before turning his expression into something more endearing. “Please?  We don’t have to stay too long if you don’t want to!”

Y/N sighs as she sits down on the bed next to him. “Harry—”

“Just one drink!” Harry pleads, pouting out his bottom lip. “Please?  To celebrate not killing each other on this trip?”

In spite of herself, a small laugh falls from Y/N’s mouth. “The trip’s not over yet, Harry.  Don’t count your eggs before they hatch.”

“Y/N…” Harry whines, turning onto his side as he looks up at her. “Come on!”

Y/N tugs her lip between her teeth as she looks down at Harry.  It’s true, she thinks, that all they’ve done for the last five days is drive and sleep in motels.  Maybe they could use a break before tomorrow’s final day.  And they’ve been getting along so well today that Y/N would hate to put a damper on their moods now…

“Fine.” She relents, ignoring how there’s a turning feeling in her stomach when she sees Harry’s green eyes light up. “But just one drink!”

…

“I’ll take another Old Fashioned, please!” Y/N says to the waitress, raising her voice to be heard over the man singing a bad cover of “Take on Me” on the small bar stage. “And—Harry, do you want another?”

Harry bites back a laugh, barely managing to cover it with a cough as the waitress turns to him. “Uh, yes, please.” He smiles charmingly, flashing his eyes to Y/N between his words. “I’ll have another pint.”

With a quick nod, the waitress begins to work her way from their table to the bar, pushing through the crowds of people scattered around the bar.  

Y/N leans over to Harry as she twirls her straw through the remnants of ice in her empty glass. “You picked a good bar!” She says loudly, gesturing to the people around them. “Who knew this would be the center of Cleveland’s drinking scene?”

“I did!  I have good taste!” Harry replies with a laugh, lifting his pint glass to his lips to drain the remnants. “And here I was, thinking that you’d be whining to go home after the first drink!”

There’s something about the way Harry says “home” that turns Y/N’s stomach.  Or maybe it’s the Old Fashioneds, she thinks, as she eyes the three empty glasses sitting in front of her. “Oh.  Yeah.  Maybe we should go…?”

Harry groans, waving off her suggestion without a second thought. “No!  We’re having fun!  When was the last time you went out?”

“Uh…” The alcohol makes it hard for Y/N to think back in her memory, but she does her best to focus for a few moments to search for the answer. “I think…a few months ago?  Jo came to visit, and we went out for drinks…”

“That’s just sad.” Harry shakes his head, feigning disappointment.  Or maybe not feigning it, Y/N thinks, because a deep sigh leaves his lips right after. “You live in L.A., a place with so much culture and so many opportunities, and you don’t take them!”

“I take opportunities just fine!” Y/N defends herself, a pout working its way onto her lips of its own volition. “I’m just busy—”

“You’re always going to be busy!” Harry argues as the waitress approaches them with their drinks. “You—thank you—” He says to her as she hands him his pint and Y/N her Old Fashioned. “You have to take time for yourself, to enjoy things!  Or else life is just going to pass you by, and soon you’ll be old and grey in your apartment, with no cool stories to tell!”

Y/N takes the straw from her previous drink and slips it in her new one. “I have stories!” She argues hotly, a flush coming over her face from both the alcohol and the argument. “I have plenty of stories!”

Harry takes a gulp from his pint, wiping away the drop of beer that drips from the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah?  Tell me one.”

“Like—” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “Like now!  The story of how I had to go on a road trip with a guy I hated to make it to my best friend’s wedding on time!”

“I’m not really a fan of that title, honestly.” Harry purses his lips, his brow furrowing as he sets his pint back down on the table. “How about we call it the story of how you had to go on a road trip with a guy you hated to make it to your best friend’s wedding on time, and along the way, you and the guy actually realized that you got along pretty well, and became friends?”

A small smile plays on Y/N’s lips, and she raises her glass towards Harry. “Sounds like a plan.” She says softly, barely audible over the noise of the crowd.  Harry lifts his pint glass and clicks it against her drink.

They both take a sip of their drinks, and when Harry lowers his glass, there’s a mischievous glint in his eye that immediately makes Y/N uneasy. “I have another idea for a story.” He says, setting his glass down and pointing towards the stage. “How about the story of us singing karaoke at a bar in Cleveland, Ohio?”

Y/N snorts, half folding herself over their table as the snort turns into a full laugh. “Not a chance in hell, Styles!” She says through her laughter, tapping her fingers against the wood table top.

Harry pushes her shoulder, making her sit up again as he tries to convince her. “Come on!  We’ve been singing in the car for two days straight! There’s tons of songs we could do—”

“The car is completely different than a stage!” Y/N argues, shaking her head firmly. “No way!”

“What, are you worried about making a fool of yourself?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he gestures around the bar. “Is there anyone you know in the audience?  The audience that’s full of people who are pissed out of their minds?”

Biting her lip hard for a moment, Y/N gives a reluctant shake of her head. “No.” She mumbles, looking down. “But I just—I don’t sing karaoke.”

“And you didn’t spend five days in the car with me, either.  Until you did, and we had fun.” Harry points a ringed pointer finger at her, and the annoying glint in his eye means he knows he has her trapped. “There is literally no better place to try it than right now, in this bar, where you know no one.”

Y/N glances around the bar, appraising her surroundings.  She knows Harry has a point; besides himself, she knows not a single soul in the building.  They’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, and she won’t ever find herself in this bar—or, honestly, Cleveland, Ohio—again.  If there was ever a time to try karaoke, it would be now.  

And hasn’t this trip been full of trying new things?  New foods, new conversations, new ways of thinking…Y/N finds herself locking eyes with Harry, losing herself in his intense gaze.  Y/N’s not sure what’s swirling around in his irises, whether it’s alcohol or something else entirely, but it’s intoxicating.

Y/N lets out a harsh exhale, pulling the straw out of her drink and downing it entirely in one swift motion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she slams the glass back on the table before looking back at Harry to find a new grin pasted across his pink lips.

“Alright.” Y/N slips off her stool, stumbling for just a moment until Harry catches her elbow. “You go pick the song.” She says, pointing towards the DJ near the stage. “I-I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

Harry nods, catching his lip between his teeth as his hand squeezes her arm. “Are you alright?  You stumbled there—”

“I’m fine!  Perfect, actually.” Y/N assures him, pulling away and walking towards the washroom.  She calls over her shoulder to him as she does. “Go pick the song!  I’ll be back in a moment!”

When Y/N reaches the washroom, she’s surprised to find it empty, and she’s even more surprised when she catches her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Is that really her? She wonders, propping herself up on the counter as she leans closer to examine herself.  Her skin is flushed from the alcohol, all across her cheeks and neck, and it only gets warmer as the heat of the bar finally hits her. Y/N undoes the top few buttons of her plaid shirt, exposing her chest to the air.  Cocking her head to the side, Y/N studies herself for a moment before undoing the rest of the buttons and rolling up the sleeves to wear the shirt like a cardigan, leaving her bralette exposed.  It’s a different look than anything she’s ever done, but…she likes it, she realizes, as her eyes scan over her reflection.  She likes this.  Being somewhere that no one knows her, somewhere filled with people that won’t judge her for drinking too much, somewhere that she doesn’t have to worry about stories getting back to her work.  Y/N likes the wild look in her eyes, the breathlessness stirring inside her, the plumpness of her lips from the ice of her drinks.   When she looks at herself, she sees a different person. Someone she doesn’t recognize. Someone who seems to know what they want.

Her phone vibrating in her back pocket pulls her from her thoughts, and it takes Y/N a moment for her intoxicated self to manage to pull it out.  When she sees Brant’s name flashing on the screen, she only hesitates for one second before hitting decline.  That one second of hesitation, however, is all it takes to make her contemplate herself in the mirror again, second guessing what she sees.  She tucks her phone away before washing her hands, and splashes a little bit of cold water on her cheeks to help cool herself down. Giving herself one last look over, Y/N buttons the few bottom buttons of her shirt back together, tying it into a neat knot to cover her stomach.  Even if no one here knows her…she can’t get too wild.  She still has to be who she is.

After exiting the bathroom, Y/N returns to the table, expecting Harry to be waiting there for her. All she finds, however, is his jacket tossed over the back of his chair, and his now empty pint glass sitting on the table. Y/N turns in a small circle, wondering where he is in the crowd when she hears his slightly slurred voice magnified over the speakers.

“Y/N.  Up here, love, c’mon.”

Y/N turns towards the stage, her eyes wide as she realizes Harry has a microphone in one hand and has the other hand wrapped around the microphone stand.  His smile is practically glowing underneath the stage lights, and his eyes seem to be doing the same.  He releases the mic stand to run a hand through his hair before beckoning her forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Cleveland, this—” Harry points towards Y/N, and she almost swears that every person in the bar turns towards her. “This is my very good friend Y/N. And five days ago, she hated my guts!” The crowd boos, and Y/N stares at Harry with incredulous eyes.  What is he doing?

“No, no, don’t boo, it’s alright.  I hated her guts too.” Harry says with a shrug, leaning against the mic stand again. “But everything’s alright now!  We’re getting along, she’s stopped being such a control freak, and she even said she would let me pick a song for us to sing tonight, isn’t that nice?”

The crowd cheers as Y/N walks towards the stage, stopping just before it to stare up at Harry as he continues his drunken monologue.  If she was sober, she’d probably pull him down from the stage, grab the front of his patterned button down shirt, and drag him back to their table.  But the alcohol running through her system is making her bold, and with her head swimming in the amber liquid she’d been consuming, all she can do is laugh and stumble her way to the stairs to the stage.

Someone wearing a t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it helps her up the stairs, handing her a microphone once she makes it onto the stage.  Harry, realizing she’s where she needs to be now, motions to the DJ behind her, and a familiar beat that Y/N can’t place begins to play.

“Harry—” Y/N speaks without raising the microphone to her lips. “What song—?”

“Don’t worry, you know it.” Harry assures her, his eyes flickering over her appearance quickly. “You look great.  Just go with it!”

There’s really no choice but to go with it, she thinks, because within a moment, Harry has a simpering smile on his face as he lifts the microphone to his lips, his body turned towards the audience but his eyes flickering to you.

“‘I wasn’t jealous before we met…now every man I see is a potential threat’.” He sings in a confident voice, and Y/N watches the split second it takes for the crowd to realize he’s actually good.  And it’s not just his voice, she thinks.  It’s his demeanor.  The part of Harry’s personality that had first irritated her, the part that lives for a spotlight, the part that can draw someone in with a snap of a finger…that part shines on a stage.

In contrast, all Y/N can do is stare with a shocked expression painted across her face as Harry continues to serenade the crowd.  He makes eye contact with specific people as he croons the next lines, his hand confidently wrapped around the microphone “‘And I’m possessive, it isn’t nice…you’ve heard me say that smoking is my only voice’.”

It’s then that Harry’s attention turns back to Y/N, his eyelids hooded, half hiding his emerald eyes as he saunters back towards her.  It’s like a switch has flipped in his head, because Y/N is certain that he’s never looked at her in this way before. “‘But now it isn’t true…now everything is new’…” The closer Harry gets to her, the less Y/N can breathe. By the time he’s a foot away from her, she feels like her breaths are stuttering in her chest, giving barely enough oxygen to her body to keep her going.  

Harry, it seems, is unaware of the affect he’s having on her.  His long limbs are loose and free as he continues to move closer, the smirk on his face intertwined with something deeper that Y/N’s drunken mind can’t quite put her finger on. “‘And all I’ve learned, has overturned…I beg of you’…”

The scent of cologne, alcohol, and sweat that emanates from Harry as he gets close enough to press his forehead to hers reminds Y/N exactly where she is, and what she’s supposed to be doing.  Just managing to bring the microphone to her lips in time, Y/N shoves Harry on his shoulder, pushing him away enough that she can walk past him and distance herself. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion’…” She sings, glancing at him over her shoulder as she moves away.  Harry watches her with darkened eyes, a hungry look on his face as Y/N begins to sway her hips to the music.  It’s fun, she realizes, being on stage like this, and playing the part with Harry as she sets down a challenge. “‘Lay all your love on me’.”

The crowd cheers as Harry begins to take measured steps towards Y/N again, looking like the cat who wants to catch the canary.  Y/N, ever the competitive player, refuses to give in so easily, and quickly extends a hand to two people sitting in front of the stage.  They give her support as she slides down from the platform, working her way through the tables without so much as a glance behind herself at Harry, who she knows is following her.

“‘It was like shooting a sitting duck…a little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck’.” Y/N finally turns around, pausing her walk to see Harry hopping down from the stage. She points at him slowly, giving a small shake of her head as she sings the next line. “‘I still don’t know what you’ve done to me…a grownup woman should never fall so easily’…”

Harry’s smirk only grows, and he runs a hand haphazardly through his sweaty curls.  He’s enjoying playing the part too, and Y/N can tell by the way he allows her to cross the seating area, so that they’re walking parallel to each other towards the bar.  He’s not chasing her down.  He’s taking his time, knowing that he’ll get her in the end.

“‘I feel a kind of fear…when I don’t have you near’…” Y/N pauses at a table of two men and a woman, leaning down between the latter two.  She only takes her eyes off Harry for a moment to give a questioning look to the man, who gives her a smile of permission.  Y/N runs her fingers across his shoulder and down his arm, but keeps her eyes glued to Harry the entire time. “‘Unsatisfied, I skip my pride…I beg you dear’…”

When he sees Y/N’s fingers trace down the collar of someone else, Harry’s brow furrows in jealousy, his jade eyes shifting even darker than they were before.  He keeps pace with Y/N as she begins to move again, but there’s an air of tension in his saunter that wasn’t there a moment ago.  When he sings, it sounds like half plea, half demand. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’.” Harry rounds a table of people before beginning to close the distance between him and Y/N, each of them now standing in front of the bar.  With the tension between them now palpable, the crowd is moving out of their way discreetly, watching as the two approach each other. Harry licks his red lips before singing the next line. “‘Don’t go sharing your devotion…lay all your love on me’.”

Y/N releases her bottom lip from between her teeth, running her fingers over the finished wood of the bar before pulling herself to sit atop it.  She crosses her legs carefully before leaning her weight on one hand, giving a small shrug, knowing that Harry’s eyes are glued to her every motion as the bartender pours him a shot. “‘I’ve had a few little love affairs…they didn’t last very long and they’ve been pretty scarce’…”

Harry’s lips wrap around the shot glass, throwing it back just in time to sing the next line as tequila drips from the corner of his mouth.  The drop of alcohol runs down his chin to trace the muscles of his neck, and as Harry pulls himself to sit next to Y/N on the bar, the only thing she wants to do is lean forward and lick the liquor from his skin.

“‘I used to think I was sensible’…” Harry passes a newly poured shot to Y/N, meaning for her to take it from him, and he nearly stutters over his next line as Y/N wraps her hand around his own, guiding him to guide the shot to her mouth.  There’s a sharp intake of air into the microphone before Harry can sing again, and Y/N smirks at the small victory as she wipes her mouth doing her best to hide how the bitter taste of the tequila affects her. “‘It makes the truth even more incomprehensible’.”

Y/N brings her microphone to her mouth again to sing the next verse with Harry, their eyes locked together as they lean forward into each other.  Despite the cheering of the crowd, Y/N can’t help but feel as though she and Harry are the only two in the bar, as if this—very public—performance were small and intimate and just between them.

“‘Because everything is new’…” Harry grips the knot in Y/N’s plaid shirt, easily pulling it undone with one hand.  His eyes break away from hers for only a moment to canvas over her newly exposed midriff and lace bralette before snapping back to her gaze with a renewed vigor. He keeps the tails of the shirt clutched within his strong hand as he begins to lean back on the bar, pulling Y/N down with him.

“‘And everything is you’…” Y/N almost falls over before she catches herself, bracing one hand beside Harry’s head on the bar to support her weight as he lays down fully. She can feel how tightly he’s gripping her shirt by how the hem of it is pressing into her skin, and the pressure of the fabric cues another kind of pressure to begin to curl inside her stomach. When she sucks in a breath, she can taste tequila and Harry’s cologne on her tongue, and she struggles to bite back a whine while Harry wraps her shirt tighter around his hand.

“‘And all I’ve learned has overturned’…” Harry releases the wrinkled fabric of her shirt, his now freed hand trading the cloth for the skin of her exposed waist.  The coolness of his rings against her flushed skin makes Y/N’s breath stutter, and she curls her body over him more in response.  The taste of Harry’s touch has sparked a need to be closer, as well as a new fluttering in her core, and judging by the way Harry keeps licking his lips, he knows it.

Refusing to be the only one affected by their close proximity, Y/N moves her supporting hand from the bar to Harry’s hair, tugging on it harshly as Harry opens his mouth to sing the next line.  As Y/N sings “‘I beg of you’…” with a pleading glance, Harry grunts deep in his throat, just managing to pull the microphone away from his lips so that Y/N is the only one to hear it.

Although getting a reaction out of Harry was her goal, actually hearing that reaction is another story entirely.  Heat rushes to Y/N’s face as Harry grips her waist tighter, pressing her thighs and hips to his own as he guides the two of them to the beat of the music.  The cheering and wolf whistles from the crowd are the only thing that keep Y/N grounded and in the moment, reminding her that—despite how it feels—there are people watching the two of them.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’.” Harry grinds his hip against Y/N’s once more, moving them in a steady and consistent pace.  Y/N repositions her body in return, spreading her legs so she can straddle Harry’s hips more easily.  She knows, though, that she needs to start pulling back.  She has to do something to get away from him, to break the trance that his touch has her in, before she does something she’ll regret.

“‘Don’t go sharing your devotion’…” Y/N slowly sits back up, letting go of Harry’s hair in order to trail her free hand down his chest. Although she knows that she’s supposed to be distancing herself from him, she can’t resist digging her nails in just the slightest bit, delighting in the hiss that leaves his mouth. “‘Lay all your love on me’…”

Harry sits up slowly as the key changes, his eyes glued to Y/N’s lips as she sings a line by herself, her voice growing ever so slightly fainter every time Harry tugs on his red lips with his teeth, soothing the mark with his tongue a moment after. “‘Don’t go wasting your emotion…lay all your love on me’…”

Now that they’re both sitting upright, Harry grips their bodies and turns them so that their legs once again dangle off the bar.  Y/N can feel the blood rushing from her head as she drapes her arm over Harry’s shoulder, her eyelids fluttering as Harry digs his fingertips into her waist. “‘Don’t go sharing your devotion’…” Harry’s pupils are so blown that his irises practically look black.  His chest is heaving with every breath, his exposed skin flushed and sweaty.  His curls are a mess from Y/N tangling her fingers in them.  If Y/N didn’t know any better, she’d say Harry looks freshly fucked, and then she wonders if she looks the same.  By the way Harry’s looking at her, she thinks it’s safe to say that she does.

“‘Lay all your love on me’.” They finish together, hungry eyes locked with each other while the wolf whistles and clapping gets louder as the final notes of the song trail off.  This is where they should break apart, Y/N thinks, her chest moving rapidly with every ragged breath she takes.  This is where she should climb off Harry’s lap, climb down from the bar, return the microphones to the DJ, and gather her things and go.  This is the end of whatever the hell just happened during that song.  This is where she says “Harry, we have to be up early tomorrow to drive, so we should go back to the motel.”

To her credit, Y/N tries. She swallows hard, her mouth as dry as it’s ever been, and sucks in another breath, almost whimpering at the taste of his cologne in the back of her throat.  Don’t, she tells herself.  She needs to say what she needs to say.  Their game is done.  It’s over.

“Harry—” She begins, and that’s all she manages to say before Harry is kissing her.

Her body reacts before her mind does, but between the overwhelming sensations all around her and the copious amounts of liquor that her brain is swimming in, Y/N can only register every third movement.  The microphone falling from her hand onto the bar as she tangles her fingers back in Harry’s curls, twisting and pulling and receiving the most delightful gasps from him in return.  Harry’s teeth catching her bottom lip, just barely tugging on the tender flesh. Ringed hands keeping a firm grip on Y/N’s sides as Harry helps her down from the bar, his lips still pressed firmly against her own.  The lingering taste of tequila on Harry’s skin as Y/N kisses down his jaw, unable to completely pull away as Harry struggles to settle their tab with the bartender.

She’s never felt like this before; Y/N didn’t even know it could feel like this.  She didn’t know that she could feel an ache so deep inside her, both painful and pleasurable at the same time, and be so completely aware that the only cure for it is the touch of another person.  Y/N had been convinced that this rush was something that was fiction, made up by steamy romance novels to entice lonely housewives to dive beneath their pages. And yet here she is, stumbling out of a bar in Cleveland, Ohio, with Harry Styles, someone that she swore up and down that she hated five days ago.  Here she is with Harry’s jacket draped over her heated shoulders, his hands slipped underneath, rubbing at her exposed skin as he guides her back to the motel.  Here she is with his lips connected to her neck the moment their motel room door is closed, his fingers fumbling with the locks on the door as he refuses to pull away from her.

Yes, Y/N thinks, as she grinds her hips against Harry’s, relishing in the strangled moan that he breathes into her mouth: it’s never felt like this.

“Y/N—” Each pant of her name from his lips sounds like a song. “Fuck, Y/N—” Harry pulls back from her just enough to suck in a full breath, the first in what feels like hours. “I—we—”

“Shut up.” Y/N uses her grip on his hair to pull his head back, trailing open mouthed kisses over his jugular. “Just shut up, Harry, I need—I just need—”

“Need what?” Harry demands, eyes dark as he pushes himself away from her.  An involuntary whine at the loss of contact escapes from Y/N’s throat, and Harry has to steel himself again before he can continue. “What do you need?” He asks, struggling to keep his voice controlled. “You—you have to tell me, so that—I need you to be clear.”

Y/N licks over her swollen lips, eyes blown wide with lust as she stares up at Harry, struggling to find the words.  “I need…” She swallows once more, inhaling sharply as he grips her shoulders to steady her. “I need you, Harry.  Just fuck me. I-I need you to—”

Before she can finish her request, Harry has scooped her up into his arms, tossing her on the creaking motel bed as if she were a rag doll.  A gasp of shock leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she’s barely managed to sit up before Harry is caging his body over hers, forcing her back down as he kisses her hard.

Y/N’s hands go straight to the hem of his shirt, tugging roughly on the fabric, shoving it up Harry’s body before he gets the clue to half sit up and pull it off himself. After that, it’s a rush to remove clothes, each of them blindly pulling off shirts and bras and pants.  Everything is rushed, and that’s what Y/N wants. She doesn’t want time to lay down and explore, and allow herself space to second guess her decision.  All she wants is Harry to do something about the ache in her core, to fill her up so completely that she’ll be feeling him for days. It’s that need that makes Y/N tug on his hair to get his attention as he begins to kiss her thighs.

“No.” She shakes her head haphazardly, and the room spins slightly when she finishes the motion. “No, I just—I just need you to fuck me.  I’m ready, Harry—”

“But—” His teeth tug roughly on his bottom lip, mimicking Y/N’s actions from moments ago. “I want to taste—”

“Please, Harry.” Y/N whines, throwing her head back on the motel pillow. “It’s been so long since I’ve been full…please…”

The lewd admission catches Harry off guard. “Fucking hell—” He spits out, his hands tugging on his hair as he sits up. “Yeah, I—okay.” He closes his eyes for a moment to steady himself, the struggle to have a coherent thought clear on his face. “Okay, I need…”

Harry’s eyes begin to search the room, and the moment they settle on his bag in the corner, he rushes towards it.  Y/N watches the muscles in his back shift beneath his smooth skin as he unzips the bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a tiny foil square.  He tucks the package between his teeth as his hands fumble with his belt, undoing it quickly and pulling it off to toss to the floor.  He undoes his button and fly as he climbs back onto the bed, doing his best to waste no time as he situates himself between Y/N’s still spread legs.  

“Y’look so hot like this, y’know that?” He can’t stop himself from muttering the words as he pulls his pants down just enough to free his cock.  Y/N stares hungrily at how swollen he is, only half listening to Harry’s words as she watches his hand stroke himself, the other lifting the condom package to his teeth.  He tears the foil open, spitting the little tag from his mouth as he removes the condom from the foil.  That foil is soon tossed to the ground before Harry gives himself one last stroke, quickly but carefully rolling the condom down the length of his shaft.

Placing his hands on either knee, Harry spreads Y/N’s legs even wider, his eyes greedily taking in the sight of her bare core. “You’re dripping.” Harry says in a low voice, and before Y/N can reply with anything, he runs a ringed finger over her folds and slips it into his mouth.

“Ah—!” Y/N gasps at the unexpected sensation, the minimal contact enough to send her reeling. Harry grins at the response, loving how the pleasure from the small action is clearly written across her face.

“Sorry.” He says with a small shrug, lining himself up with her entrance. “Just wanted a little taste, tha’s all.  Couldn’t resist.” Harry drags the tip of his cock along Y/N’s slick core, a look of concentration overtaking his features. “I’ll go slow—”

A sound of protest leaves Y/N’s mouth. “No.  Go fast. I need it, Harry, please—” Her plea is cut off by Harry thrusting inside her with one sharp movement, and then Y/N stops talking completely.

There’s a slight feeling of pain, as she wasn’t lying when she said it’s been a while since she’s been with someone, but underneath that pain, pleasure is quickly building as Harry begins to snap his hips towards hers, finding a rhythm within a few thrusts. Y/N knows immediately that Harry is probably one of the largest men—if not the largest man—she’s ever been with, but that’s exactly what she needs right now.  The moment he filled her for the first time, there was a feeling of completeness that she’s been missing in her life for a long time.  She needed this, she thinks.  She needed to be stretched, to be filled, to be fucked, and Harry is the only one that could have fulfilled those needs this well. She’s convinced of it.

It’s far from the most romantic sex Y/N’s ever had; it’s all teeth clacking, biting, scratching, tugging, and growling.  And she knows that she should be concerned about how Harry’s teeth biting down on her shoulder is going to leave marks, especially when she has to wear a bridesmaid dress in less than 48 hours.  But all of that is exactly what she needs.  She doesn’t want Harry to whisper how much he loves her, how close he feels to her, how happy he is to be with her.  She doesn’t want to hear him say anything, except—

“Feel so fucking good around my cock.” He growls, his fingertips digging deeper into the flesh of her hips. “So bloody tight, Y/N…”

A sharp gasp tumbles out of Y/N’s throat as Harry swivels his hips, finding the exact spot she needs him the most. “Oh God, Harry, I—” Y/N scratches her nails down his back, surely leaving a trail of angry red marks in her place, as her other hand twists the sheets within her grip. “Fuck, right there, right there, right there—”

“Feels good, yeah? You like it?” Harry manages to bring a hand to her hair, tangling it within her locks and pulling hard. “Tell me.” His voice is so much lower than she’s ever heard it, his accent so much thicker, and the combination sends Y/N’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Tell me how much you love my cock, and—fuck—how much you love me fucking you.”

Y/N’s mouth falls open, a strangled whine echoing from the back of her throat as the head of Harry’s cock presses against her G-spot again. “I-I love it, Harry, I—your cock fills me so well—don’t stop, please don’t stop—!”

Using her moans as fuel, Harry begins to thrust faster, tugging on Y/N’s hair one last time before grasping her hips between his hands to gain more control.  If his flushed skin and the sweat covering his entire body is any indication, Y/N can tell that Harry is just as close as she is.  Her breathing quickens just as the sound of the bed creaking does, and she brings one hand down to her clit to rub fast circles, desperate to reach her release.

“Harry—” She gasps for what seems the millionth time that night, her body shuddering as she pushes closer and closer to the edge. “I’m so fucking close, Harry, please—”

The growl that falls from Harry’s mouth almost doesn’t sound like him.  It’s deeper, more animalistic, and so unlike the careful and slow voice that she’s gotten used to over the last five days.  Releasing one hand from her hip, he pushes her hand out of the way, replacing her fingers with his own to rub circles over her clit. “Cum for me, Y/N. I know you need it, baby, so just—” Harry groans as her walls squeeze his length. “Just cum.”

The command combined with his motions is all it takes to push Y/N over the edge.  A breathless gasp falls from her open mouth, and she screws her eyes shut as pleasure courses through her body.  It’s so much more intense than anything she’s felt before, so much more pleasurable, so much more dizzying, and just so much more. Small whimpers and Harry’s name are the only things she can think to say as her orgasm makes her movements stutter before falling limply back onto the bed.

“Fuck—” Harry moans roughly as he kisses her one more time, his mouth falling open against hers as her orgasm triggers his own.  Although the rhythm of his thrusts stutters, they don’t completely stop, and he continues to slam his hips against her own as he rides out his orgasm. “That’s it, baby—squeeze me tight—” Harry pants into Y/N’s mouth, barely registering anything he’s saying, let alone the pet name that’s begun to fall from his lips. “Christ…”

Things become a blur after that.  After Harry pulls out, all Y/N can focus on is how empty she feels without his thick cock filling her to the brim, and she doesn’t even realize that he’s gotten off the bed until he returns, his weight causing the whole bed frame to creak once more. With both of them so sweaty, Harry only pulls the top sheet over their panting bodies, pressing his head into the crook of Y/N’s neck as his eyes close.

Neither of them says anything, and for multiple reasons.  What exactly is there to say?  And, more pressing, what exactly is Y/N capable of saying right now?  There are no words running through her mind. All she can do is think in terms of physical contact and needs, and those two things tell her everything she knows in this moment.  She knows that Harry is in just his boxers now because she can’t feel the rough fabric of his pants against her bare skin.  She knows that she needs his hands on her, cupping her breasts the way he is. She knows that if he were to move away from her, she’d go chasing after him.  She knows that she’s completely worn out—completely fucked out, really—and above all else, she knows that whatever needs to be discussed between them can be discussed the next morning.

Harry, however, seems to have a different approach.  His face still pressed into her neck, he mumbles something against her sweat soaked skin, low and deep and completely inaudible.  Y/N feels an open mouthed kiss pressed to her neck, and then hears another mumble, this one even quieter than the last.

“Hm?” Y/N barely manages to hum the syllable in her exhaustion.

There’s no response, no repeat of the quiet phrases, and it takes Y/N a few minutes of feeling Harry’s breathing even out to realize that he’s fallen asleep.  If she were sober and had the mental capacity to examine things, Y/N would wonder what it was that Harry whispered into her skin.  But her brain is swimming in exhaustion and endorphins and tequila, and the only thing she can do is close her eyes and allow her breathing to sync up with the rise and fall of Harry’s chest.

…

The first thing Y/N registers the next morning is the shrill ringing of her cell phone, which somehow made its way to the bedside table in her drunken fervour the night before. The second thing she registers is the pounding of her head, like she can feel each pump of blood to her brain, and the uncomfortably dry feeling in her mouth, as if it’s been stuffed full of cotton. The third thing Y/N registers is—

“Christ.” Harry groans into her neck, his voice raspy from sleep and laced with irritation. “God, who is calling right now?”

Right.  The third thing she registers, probably the most complicated of all, Y/N thinks, is just how much of Harry’s taut and tattooed bare skin is pressed against her own.  His strong arms are thrown over her waist, clutching her tight to his chest. In the back of her mind, she’s vaguely aware of the chain of Harry’s cross pressing into her breast, probably leaving a small red indentation along with the other marks he left on her last night.

Last night.

Y/N lets out a small whine as the previous evening comes rushing back to her.  It’s a blur of alcohol, ABBA, and Harry.  Harry is everywhere, in every blurred picture her hungover brain can conjure.  Laughing at her from across the table.  Smirking at her on stage.  Staring at her with a hungry look in his eyes as he pulled her down on top of him on the bar, grinding his hips into hers.  Kissing her.  Kissing her multiple times.  Coming back to their room with his hands leaving scorching imprints over every inch of her.  And now, him laying next to her, clutching the two of them together like they’ve always done this.  Like it’s natural.

The phone rings again, louder than the last time, and Harry curses under his breath, the short exhale of air leaving goosebumps along Y/N’s neck.  He lifts his head just barely as he reaches across Y/N’s body, grabbing her phone from the bedside table and not bothering to check the caller ID as he answers.

“Hello?” He says, the rasp of sleep still clear his voice.  Within three seconds, Harry’s entire body tenses against Y/N, his arm constricting around her waist enough to shift her on the bed.

Y/N lifts her head up when she feels the change, finally opening her eyes just enough to read the change in Harry’s body language.  What she finds are dark and stormy green eyes, a swollen red mouth pressed into a thin line, and a deep crease between his furrowed brow, all of it such a contrast from the hazy memories of him the night before.

“I—yeah, she’s right here.” Harry mutters, his eyes snapping to Y/N’s face for just a moment. “I’ll—oh. Yeah, no, the trip’s been…good. Yeah.  Not too much traffic.” His arm moves off her waist as he pulls away from her, rolling onto his back as the bed creaks beneath them.  With his newly freed hand, Harry covers his eyes, rubbing them for a moment as the irritation on his face grows. “Yeah, it was nice of me to give her a ride.  Yeah.” He sucks in a breath. “Well, she’s—she’s awake now.  Here.  I’ll let you two talk.”

Y/N props herself up on one elbow, careful to keep the sheet pressed to her chest so that she’s not exposed. She knows that Harry’s already seen everything, touched everything, and kissed everything, but the sudden change in his demeanor is telling her that she needs to be guarded, even if she has no idea what caused it.

Harry holds out her phone for her, his face stony as Y/N slowly accepts it. “Harry—?” She begins, but he just gives a rough jerk of his head, and offers no other explanation.

Eyes still glued to Harry’s face, Y/N brings the phone to her ear, clearing the sleep from her voice. “Hello?”

“Hi.” The familiar cadence of Brant’s voice crackles through the phone speaker, an indication of how far away he is from her. “It’s good to finally hear your voice; I haven’t been able to catch you the last few days.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Harry as her body goes cold, pressing the sheet tighter to her chest. “Brant.” She whispers his name unintentionally; her body won’t allow her to say it any louder. “Hi.”

At the sound of Brant’s voice leaving her lips, Harry throws the covers off of himself, jerkily pulling himself off of the low motel room bed.  He snatches his jeans off the floor, and doesn’t give Y/N another glance as he walks to the small bathroom, slamming the door behind himself.

“Hi.” Brant says again, completely unaware of what’s happening on the other end of the telephone line. “I’ve missed you.  Where are you now?”

“Uh, Cleveland.” Y/N says weakly, stumbling her way out of the bed to her duffel bag.  She grabs a new bra and t-shirt, along with her comfiest pair of pants.  Without Harry beside her, she’s freezing. “Today’s our last day of driving.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Brant replies easily. “The wedding is tomorrow, then?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N’s eyes flicker to the bathroom as the sound of the shower starting travels through the wood of the door. “And tonight is the rehearsal dinner.”

Brant makes a sound of acknowledgement on the other end of the phone. “That’ll be nice!  Do you know if you’re flying back?”

“Uh—” Y/N pauses her movements, her pants half pulled up her legs.  That, honestly, is a good question, and one which seems as though the answer is changing with every passing moment. “I guess I’ll call the airline and…see if I can fly back.  Maybe the storms will have passed.”

“You must have driven through them, right?  In Utah, or wherever they were?” Brant asks curiously. “Did they seem that bad? Honestly, I’ve always found thunder to be relaxing.  I think most people do.”

Y/N tugs her t-shirt over her head with one hand, accidentally bumping her chin as she does so.  The motion causes her to bite down on her tongue, and she lets out a curse under her breath, not even bothering to correct Brant.  It doesn’t matter, she thinks.  He probably wouldn’t remember. “Yeah.  Relaxing.”

The sound of the shower turning off catches her attention, distracting her from what Brant says next. “I—sorry—” She mutters in a distracted tone, raking her fingers through her sleep and sex mussed hair. “What was that?”

“I said let me know when you’re on your way back from New York, so I’ll make us a dinner reservation.” Brant repeats himself without suspicion of Y/N’s distracted tone. “We just got some new files at work that I think you’ll be very interested in.”

The bathroom door creaks open, and Harry emerges from the cloud of shower steam.  He’s dressed in just his pants, his marked chest still damp from the shower.  Although he catches Y/N’s eye for a moment, he quickly looks away, rubbing his towel through his wet curls as he turns to search for a shirt.  The red marks of Y/N’s nails are prominent on his otherwise unmarked back.

“Dinner?” Y/N repeats slowly, chewing on her cuticle as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Are you—you still want to get dinner?”

“Of course.  I enjoy our weekly dinners, don’t you?” Brant asks, confusion finally slipping into his voice. “I’ve missed them.”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat, rubbing her thumb absentmindedly over her bottom lip. “Okay.  Yeah.  Dinner. I’ll, um, I’ll let you know when I book a flight home.”

“Sounds wonderful. Well, I’ll let you get on the road. Let me know when you’re available.” Brant’s voice already sounds more and more distant. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Y/N replies lamely, letting her phone drop to the crumpled bed sheets.

There’s a rustling behind her, the sound of a belt clicking, of the zipper on a duffel bag being pulled shut.  Y/N waits for a moment, to give Harry the chance to say something to her, but nothing comes.  Finally, she twists around on the bed, her nerves running on high.

Harry is completely dressed now, a black t-shirt covering his previously bare chest, and he’s tied his familiar green bandana into his damp chestnut locks.  His sunglasses are hanging on the neck of his shirt, but even without them covering his emerald eyes, Y/N can’t decipher anything that’s swirling within them.

“That—that was Brant.” She says finally, scratching a nail over the palm of her hand.

Harry jerks his head in a nod as he shoulders his duffel bag. “Yeah.  I heard.” Tapping his fingers against the leather strap, he finally spares a glance at Y/N. “He wants to take you to dinner, huh?”

Running her teeth along her bottom lip, Y/N takes a moment before she replies. “Harry, I—”

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters, taking long strides to the door and unlocking it with a harsh turn of his hand. “Just hurry up, yeah?  I want to get on the road soon, so we’re not late to the rehearsal dinner.”

When he slams the door behind him, Y/N breaks.

…

And just like that, it’s like they’re back at square one.

It really feels like the first day all over again, Y/N thinks, in every sense of the sentiment. From the way she and Harry sit in silence, each avoiding the other’s gaze, to how every single one of Harry’s movements is filled with a tight and tense irritation.  Even the sound of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” is familiar, echoing through the speakers of the car like a soundtrack to an old memory.  

After four hours, the silence is finally getting to her.  She can’t stop shifting in her seat, her muscles seizing from hours on end in the same position—although, frankly, her soreness may partially be a result of her and Harry’s activities from the night before—and with every short and hard breath Harry sighs, Y/N gets more and more antsy.

“Harry.” She says finally, risking a glance at him from the corner of her eye.  He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the stick shift, both grips tight enough to stretch his skin over the bones of his knuckles until it goes white.  At the sound of Y/N’s voice, his jaw flexes, but he shows no other evidence that he heard her.

A frustrated sigh falls past Y/N’s lips. “Harry.” She says again, firmer this time. “Are you going to ignore me all the way to the Catskills?”

Realizing that he can’t feign deafness, Harry lets his shoulders lift once and drop down again in a quick motion. “’M not ignoring you.” He mutters, keeping his eyes glued to the road.

“We’re not talking. At all.” Y/N taps her fingers against her knee, just slightly off the beat of the music. “Shouldn’t we talk about what happened?”

“Why?” Harry asks, his voice flatter than she’s ever heard it. “What’s there to talk about?”

Y/N twists her body in her seat, her seat belt nearly cutting into her throat with how quickly she moves. “What the hell do you mean, what’s there to talk about?  There’s plenty!  Last night—”

Harry cuts over her with a sharp tone, still refusing to look away from the road. “Last night we got drunk, and we made a mistake.” His grip tightens even more on the gear shift as he moves it to accelerate the car. “And it shouldn’t have happened.”

It takes a few moment for the words to register in her brain, and Y/N blinks slowly as the process unfolds. “You think it was a mistake?” She tries to ask the question as nonchalantly as possible.

“I do.” Harry nods tightly, and while Y/N thinks that she can detect something else underneath his tone, his dark sunglasses hide the truth of his thoughts from her. “We got caught up with trying to—to pretend we’re not who we are.  But we know who we are.”

If Y/N’s brain couldn’t process Harry’s words a moment ago, it’s working in overdrive now as she draws a million different conclusions from the conversation.  What the fuck does “we know who we are” mean?  Wasn’t the whole point of this trip—the long lesson they’d learned together—that both of them were different than the other had thought? Hadn’t Harry proved to her, over and over, how he was so much more considerate and empathetic than she’d previously imagined?  Hadn’t she shown him that she wasn’t the Ice Queen he thought she was, wasn’t as controlling, wasn’t as perfect?  Hadn’t that been a good thing?  Hadn’t they bonded at roadside fruit stands, small souvenir shacks, ghost town gas stations, and dingy motel rooms?

But maybe…maybe she had imagined all of that, because the way that Harry is actively avoiding her gaze is telling her that he isn’t thinking the same thing.  Everything from his body language, to his tone of voice, to his attitude, is telling her that he’s just as stubborn and closed off as he was when they first met.  He hasn’t changed.  If he had, he wouldn’t be refusing to do something as simple as look at her.

Still, something about the interaction doesn’t sit right with Y/N.  Although she turns to face the windshield again, she keeps Harry in the corner of her gaze. “Is this…” She swallows hard. “Does this have something to do with Brant calling?”

A harsh snort is all the response she gets. “Christ, no.  Trust me, nothing that prick can do has that much of an affect on me.” Even from behind his sunglasses, Y/N can tell that Harry is rolling his eyes. “Although I suppose it is a reminder of where you belong.”

A flash of irritation rips up Y/N’s spine. “A reminder of what?” She repeats, eyes narrowing.

“You heard me, Y/N, don’t make me say it again.” Harry taps a finger to the song, perfectly on the beat. They’re out of sync, Y/N realizes. Had they ever been in sync?

No, she decides.  They hadn’t.  She’d just been fooling herself.  Being in the car for five days with only Harry for company had deluded her, but soon she’d be with Jo, and a million other people, and when she’s not in stuck in Harry’s car, smelling Harry’s cologne, listening to Harry’s music, she’ll have a clear head.  She’ll be able to think straight.

“Fine.” Y/N crosses her arms firmly over her chest, leaning her head against the cool glass of the passenger window.  A sign welcoming them to the state of New York whizzes past. “I won’t make you say it again.  You don’t have to say anything.”

…

“So?  What do you think?”

Y/N steps over the threshold of the cozy cabin, analyzing every little detail of the room as quickly as she can.  The interior seems to be one open concept room, cleverly split up with small architectural dividers.  The living room and kitchen flowed into each other smoothly, with a kitchen island dividing the space.  To the left of the living room is a small reading nook, holding a comfortable looking wicker swing chair and a half-size bookshelf that seems to be well stocked. Separating the reading nook from the rest of the cabin is the staircase, which Y/N presumes leads up to the master bedroom and bathroom that’s lofted above on the halved second floor. Between the wall of windows giving a beautiful view of the forest, the fire quietly cracking in the living room, and the potted plants scattered around the cabin, Y/N has to admit that she thinks she could live in this space for the rest of her life.

“It’s beautiful, Jo.” She finally replies, setting down her suitcase and duffel bag as she continues to look around.  She walks to the living room first, brushing her fingers over the cable knit blanket that’s draped over the back of the comfortable looking couch. “Is this for you and Laure?”

“Nope.  It’s for me and you.” Jo replies, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge.  She pulls out a bottle of rosé, motioning over her shoulder to the cupboard. “Grab a couple wine glasses, would you?”

Y/N crosses to the kitchen, searching through the cupboards until she finds the glasses.  Setting them down on the island, she gives Jo a confused look. “Me and you?”

Jo gives her a familiar grin as she uncorks the wine, and the sight of it lights a warm fire in Y/N’s chest.  It feels like home. “It’s tradition for the bride not to see the bride before the wedding, isn’t it?  So after the rehearsal dinner, Laure and I will say goodbye until the ceremony tomorrow, and you and I—” She fills Y/N’s glass liberally. “Will have one last night of single girl fun.  And then you can have the cabin to yourself tomorrow night, because I will be on my honeymoon, and, hopefully, getting laid.”

Y/N smiles back at her as she lifts her glass, clinking it against Jo’s. “Sounds like a plan.” After taking a long sip, Y/N leans her elbows on the counter, propping her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow.  Married!”

“Yeah, well, that’s old news.” Jo waves her hand as she lowers her wine glass from her lips, her inquisitive eyes alight with mischief. “I’d rather know how the trip with Harry was. Are you two finally getting along? The last time I called, you actually sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

Y/N pauses with her wine glass half lifted to her lips.  Part of her wants to tell Jo everything, because she always tells Jo everything. It feels wrong to have a secret from her.  But then again, she’s never had a reason to have a secret before.  Right now, however…the last thing Jo and Laure need the night before their wedding—three hours before the rehearsal dinner—is to be stressed because the maid of honour and the best man had a drunken one night stand in Cleveland, Ohio.  

“I wouldn’t say we’re getting along.” Y/N says diplomatically, taking a sip of wine between her words. “We’re…a bit better, I suppose.  But we’re not that close.”

“Really?” When Jo raises an eyebrow, Y/N almost swears that she can detect a hint of disappointment in her voice. “But Harry said—”

“He said what?” Y/N asks quickly, the diplomatic tone disappearing immediately.

Jo tugs on her bottom lip as she gives a small shrug of her shoulders. “Nothing, I guess.  I don’t know.  I overheard him and Laure talking last night, but I couldn’t really make much of it out.  It sounded like you two were at a bar.”

The new information makes Y/N pause.  Harry had called Laure while they were at the bar last night.  Harry had felt the need to call Laure while they were at the bar last night.  What had been so urgent, so pressing, that he needed to speak to her right then and there?

“A bar, yeah.” Y/N finally replies after a moment. “It was alright.  We just had a couple drinks to relax from being in the car.”

“Just drinks?  That’s all?  Nothing else?”

Y/N clears her throat, gulping down the rest of her wine before answering. “That’s it.  Nothing else.”

…

“Here you go, Miss Bride.” Y/N grins at Jo as she tops off her mimosa, fixing the tie of her pink silk robe as she settles back down in her chair. “Something to relax you, yeah?”

Jo glances up at Y/N, her pen pausing over the page of her notebook.  She’s careful when she moves her head, so as not to disturb the hairstylist that’s carefully curling her hair, but still manages to meet Y/N’s eye. “I’m relaxed.” She argues, but takes a sip of the drink nonetheless. “I just love mimosas.  You can’t blame me for that.”

Y/N gives a slight shrug as she brushes a strand of her own carefully styled hair over her shoulder. Jo, being Jo, had insisted on sleeping in as much as she could that morning, so when the hair and makeup lady had arrived two hours ago, Y/N had been the first one to get made over. Which, honestly, she quite enjoyed, but the real feat would be remaining picture perfect until the ceremony, which is still two hours away.

“Will you do something for me?” Jo asks suddenly, her pen still scratching over her notebook.  She finishes signing her name with a messy signature, waiting until the hairdresser has paused her movements to rip the page from the notebook and fold it up.  She quickly writes Laure’s name on the front and extends the note to Y/N. “Will you bring this to Laure?”

Although Y/N accepts the note from her automatically, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her voice. “This isn’t an explanation of why you’re leaving her at the altar, is it?”

Jo flips Y/N off with an elegantly painted fingernail. “No, you jerk.  We agreed to write letters to each other right before the wedding.  As a little keepsake.”

A sudden lump develops in Y/N’s throat as she turns the note over in her hands, her mind flickering back to the last time she’d read something Jo wrote for Laure.  How Harry’s voice had sounded reciting Laure’s words for Jo. “You two are sickeningly sweet, you know that?” Y/N finishes her mimosa before standing up, tightening her robe once again. “I’ll take it to her now. Where’s her cabin?”

“Just down the path towards the resort.  Take a left when you reach the arrow sign.” Jo instructs her, setting her notebook down beside her before relaxing back into her chair.  Her eyes close as the hairdresser continues styling her hair. “You’ll find it.”

Y/N nods, slipping on her scuffed up Vans before dashing outside.  When the slight chill in the morning air hits her, she pulls her silk dressing gown around her tighter, and debates whether or not she should grab a proper jacket.  She decides against it, however, and ignores the goosebumps popping up on her bare legs as she begins to walk down the path Jo mentioned.

It’s a quiet and calm morning, and Y/N can hear birds chirping and flittering through the pine trees around them.  The trees themselves add a wonderful scent to the air, in addition to the faint smell that indicates it may rain later.  Glancing up, Y/N can see that the sky is overcast, giving another indication of future weather patterns.  A small sigh escapes her.  A storm would be just the thing that’s needed today, she thinks wryly.  

When Y/N reaches the arrow sign, which points towards the lake, the main resort building, and the cabins, she takes a sharp left.  And practically slams into Harry’s chest.

On instinct, Harry’s strong hands grip her arms, steadying her as she stumbles back from him.  Y/N’s eyes widen as she registers who she almost walked into, and she can tell Harry is just realizing it’s her.  His grip on her tightens for just a moment before it releases, and he takes a step back from her, creating space between their bodies.

“Sorry.” Y/N says after a moment, clearing her throat. “I was just—”

“Yeah.” Harry holds up his hand, and for the first time Y/N realizes that he’s holding a note identical to hers. “You’re on messenger duty too, huh?”

Biting her lip, Y/N nods slowly, holding up her own note. “Mhmm.”

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and Y/N doesn’t miss how Harry’s green irises pause during his scan of her bare legs.  Crossing her ankles together, Y/N lets her eyes wander too, admiring for a moment how Harry’s grey sweatpants cling to his hips.  But only for a moment.

“Well, here.” Y/N pushes the note towards him, taking the note that he trades her in return. “How’s Laure doing?”

Harry gives a half shrug, turning Jo’s note over and over in his fingers. “Pretty decent, except she won’t eat anything.  Says she’s too nervous.”

Y/N cracks a small smile at the image of Laure, someone who is usually so self assured and confident, being too nervous about anything. “Tell her she can’t have a drink until she eats.  That’s how I got some toast into Jo.”

“I’ll do that.” Harry says with a terse nod.  

A beat of silence falls between the two of them, the only sounds audible being the chirping of birds and the wind in the trees.  The latter sends a shiver through Y/N, and she wraps her arms around herself to rub her bare skin, trying to find a bit of warmth in the shade of the forest.

A crease appears between Harry’s brow as he registers the motion, and he quickly shrugs off his own jacket.  Before Y/N can refuse, he’s draping the fabric around her shoulders, careful not to touch any bare skin.

Although Y/N fixes the drape of the jacket, her mouth opens to protest. “Harry—”

“I should go.  I have to give this to Laure, and get her to eat something.” Harry’s voice is gruff as he takes a step back. “I suppose I’ll…see you at the wedding?”

Y/N nods slowly, her fingers still grazing over the hem of the jacket. “Yeah.” She should say more, she thinks.  She should voice her anger, or her hurt, or whatever the hell it is that’s curdling like a hot ball of lead inside her stomach, but she can’t think of the words. “Yeah, I—” I’m sorry.  I miss you. I wish I could take it back.  I wish I could do things over. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

…

“Uh, hello.  Can everyone hear me?”

Y/N watches with expectant eyes as Harry leans forward over the podium, his pink lips brushing against the microphone for just a moment before he takes a step back.  He looks so different than the last time she’d seen him with a microphone, she thinks.  He’s dressed so much more formally, in a striking emerald suit that matches the colour palette of the wedding, along with Y/N’s dress.  His cheeks are flushed from champagne, his eyes bright, but there’s a hint of nerves under his thick accent.  

Harry raises his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat quietly as he unfolds a piece of paper and smooths it on the podium. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Harry Styles.  I have had the honour of being Laure’s best man today, as well as her best friend since we were teenagers.” Harry pauses his speech to smile at Laure, the fondness for the bride apparent in his eyes. “We’ve been through a lot together—I’ve watched her go through a lot, too—and she’s always come out on the other side better than ever.  An example of this is when she made the decision—after living in England her whole life, never leaving, living in the same small brownstone for eighteen years—to move to America for university.”

Y/N lifts her champagne to her lips, taking a small sip while keeping her eyes glued to Harry.  The more he talks, the more relaxed he appears, as he naturally falls into the role of a performer again.  Out of the corner of her eye, she can practically see him charming every woman in the room, and it takes all her concentration not to roll her eyes.

“She’d made the decision a bit impulsively, and—in true Laure fashion—stuck to it like the stubborn person she is.” Harry laughs lightly, shaking his head at the memory as Jo nods in agreement beside Y/N. “She was so certain that moving was what she wanted, so determined to do it—and then the night before her flight, she showed up at my house in tears, talking about how she couldn’t possibly go through with the move.  She couldn’t leave behind everything she’d known.” Glancing down at his notes for a moment, Harry takes a deep breath before continuing. “It freaked me out a bit, I won’t lie.  To see someone who’s usually so sure of themselves question such a big decision. But I assured her that everything would be fine, that moving forward was always scary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.  Life always pushes us forward, whether we’re ready for it or not.  So Laure left, and a month later, I decided to go visit her in America, expecting to find her incredibly homesick, in tears, a mess.” A small smile begins to play at the corner of Harry’s lip. “Instead, I arrived to find her adjusted, happy, and about to go on a date with a girl she had met named Jo.”

A laugh ripples through the wedding guests, and Y/N can’t help but smile in spite of herself.  

“And I, uh…I was at a loss for words that day.” Harry’s eyes flicker to the head table, settling on the two brides with a happy smile, and yet…something in his eyes looks flatter, like he’s trapped in a deep thought. “I thought I was going to visit my friend, and comfort her, and instead I found her on a date, completely fine.  She didn’t need me to comfort her.  She was—and still is—so incredibly resilient. She always has been.”

Harry’s eyes travel again, but this time, they settle on Y/N.  She shifts in her seat as he looks her over, his eyes phasing emotions again while his tongue swipes over his lips quickly. “So anyways—” Harry quickly looks away when he catches Y/N’s eye, turning his attention back to the audience of wedding guests. “I suppose I’m the one to thank for this marriage, because if I hadn’t pushed Laure to come to America, she would never have met Jo.” An easygoing smile pulls at his pink lips as the crowd laughs lightly. “And now, Laure…you’re at that same place again.  A new beginning.  Except this time, you’re not alone.  You managed to find something that most of us…” Harry hesitates again. “Most of us spend our entire lives searching for, and when we find it, we manage to f—screw it up.” His eyes flicker to Laure’s grandmother when he catches the curse word, and Y/N hides a small laugh behind her champagne glass. “But you didn’t. You and Jo…you’re lucky.  You figured out what you wanted, and you didn’t let anything—fear, anxiety, or your…your own pride—” Harry swallows hard, his eyes flickering to Y/N once more, and the glance makes her skin burn beneath her dress. “—stop you.  You’re both an inspiration to all of us.  I love you two.  To Jo and Laure!”

Y/N murmurs the toast with the rest of the crowd, raising her glass of champagne and draining it as her head spins with Harry’s words.  A waiter walks by and quickly refills the glass, grazing by Harry as he makes his way back to his seat on Laure’s right side.  Y/N barely gives herself a moment to catch his unreadable emerald eyes before she stands, carefully picking up the hem of her dress as she walks to the podium. It’s her turn now.

Stepping up to the microphone, Y/N clears her throat, resting her free hand against the wood to steady herself. “Thank you, Harry, that was…lovely.” Y/N begins, allowing herself one more stolen look at him.  His brow is furrowed, hands folded together over the cream tablecloth as his eyes focus on her.

“My name is Y/N, and I’m the maid of honour.  Jo and I have been best friends since the first day of kindergarten, when she punched a boy in the nose for me, which, funnily enough, wasn’t the last time she’d have to do that.” A laugh rolls through the room, and Y/N gives an endeared look to Jo’s sheepish grin before turning to face the wedding guests again. “I’ve had the good fortune of having her on my side from day one, and…I know just how lucky that makes me.  There’s so many times where I’d…I wouldn’t have been able to handle what life threw at me if I didn’t have Jo with me.  She’s kind, and compassionate, and fiery, and just…the very best person I know. And if you know her, then I’m sure you’d agree.”

Y/N takes a moment to breathe, her parched tongue swiping quickly over her lips. “I’ve, um, I’ve never been a perfect person.  I’ve never been very good at…articulating what I feel, or—or making a hard choice. I’ve always followed a safer path, out of…fear, I suppose.” Not for the first time since she began talking, Y/N’s eyes travel to Harry.  He still has the same stoic expression over his features, but his eyes…she can tell he’s hanging on every word she’s saying, and is analyzing every syllable.

“But Jo has never done that.” Y/N continues, shaking her gaze from Harry to settle on her best friend. “Even when she’s been afraid, she’s pushed forward, usually dragging me along with her.  And it’s a good thing she has, because I wouldn’t have half the stories I have now if not for her.” Y/N cracks a smile. “But she just—when Jo loves you, you know it. She never hesitates to tell anyone. She never worries about it being too much.  She has the biggest heart, and if you’re lucky—really lucky—she’ll keep you inside it. And I used to worry about her, because in my mind, that was dangerous.  Being so open was so terrifying to me, I was certain that it would backfire for Jo.  And then she met Laure.”

Although it’s a struggle, Y/N manages to train her eyes on Laure without letting them travel to Harry. “Laure and Jo may seem different on the surface, but they both share giant hearts. And their differences balance each other out so perfectly.  You two—I never really believed in soul mates until I saw the two of you together.” Y/N admits, biting down hard on her lip when she catches Harry shifting in his chair from the corner of her eye. “But the way you two know each other, and speak to each other, and love each other…anyone who sees it can’t help but know that you’re meant for each other.  That you’ve been meant for each other since the beginning of time. Every choice you made, every path you took—all of it led you two to each other, because that’s what was destined to happen.  You—” Y/N’s voice catches in her throat, and she takes a moment to compose herself before speaking again. “You’re going to be happy together, because you were meant to be.  It’s as simple as that.”

Y/N knows that she can’t say anything else without beginning to unravel, so she simply raises her champagne glass in the air, deciding it’s best to leave it at that. “To Jo and Laure.”

Above the echoes of the wedding guests, Y/N can hear Harry’s unmistakable voice.

…

“‘She’s like the wind…through my tree’…”

With her champagne glass raised to her lips, Y/N pensively watches as Jo and Laure turn to the music in each other’s arms, holding one another close as the voice of Patrick Swayze drifts through the speakers.  When the pair had originally told Y/N that they wanted to dance to a song from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack for their first dance, Y/N had laughed at the choice.  Now, however, as she watches Laure brush back a strand of hair from Jo’s face, her lips drifting down to whisper something in her new wife’s ear, Y/N has to admit that the song is the perfect choice for them.

“They look happy, don’t they?”

Y/N recognizes Harry’s voice, not needing to turn her head away from the couple on the dance floor to know that he’s moved from his chair three seats down.  Although the feeling of his warm breath on her neck is enough to make her shudder, as well as bring back memories of the nights they spent together, Y/N does her best to keep herself composed.

“They do.” She agrees after a moment, setting her fluted glass down on the table.  She keeps her fingers around the base, gently gliding them over the smooth crystal absentmindedly as she finally turns her head just enough to catch a sight of Harry.

He’s moved himself to Jo’s chair, with one hand braced against the table and one hand lightly settled on the back of Y/N’s seat.  He removed his suit jacket after his speech, but his waist coat is still buttoned properly, despite the sleeves of his dress shirt now being rolled to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.  His face is just as pensive as it’s been all day, but there’s some sort of change that Y/N can’t quite put a finger on.  There’s less of a guard in his emerald eyes, she thinks, before turning her attention back to the dance floor.

“Do you…” Harry licks his lips once, swiping a hand through his carefully styled curls before brushing over the back of his neck. “Would you like to dance?  With me?”

Y/N’s movements against the crystal flute pause.  That question was the last thing she expected him to ask. “I…” Clearing her throat, she keeps her eyes focused on the swaying of Jo and Laure. “I don’t know.”

A vibration on the back of Y/N’s chair lets her know that Harry’s tapping his fingers against it, the pattern familiar after watching him play the same rhythm on the steering wheel for five days. “You don’t have to, so—don’t feel like you have to say yes.  But I just…I don’t know.  I thought it would be nice.”

Yes, Y/N thinks wistfully, pursing her lips slightly at the nervous tone in Harry’s voice.  It would be nice.  To be wrapped in his arms again, his body close enough that she can feel the pounding of his heart beneath his formal clothing.  To feel his calloused hands within her own again, and resting on her waist, pulling her closer to himself with every passing moment…

“It…” Y/N glances down for a moment, fixing a crease in her dress with careful attentiveness. “It would be nice, yeah.  Until we try ripping each other’s throats out in the middle of the wedding.”

The joke is only half a joke, and Harry’s laugh is only half in amusement. “I didn’t really plan on that.”

“Well, it seems that things we don’t plan on keep happening, so…” As the music begins to fade out, Y/N finally turns her head to look at Harry straight on. “That’s not really a reassuring statement.”

A flicker of irritation flits through Harry’s eyes, a sight that’s become familiar in all her years of knowing him. “It was a simple question, Y/N.  Do you want to dance or not?”

As Y/N’s own irritation escalates, she knows that she should say no.  The best thing for her to do right now would be to distance herself from Harry, to get some space to clear her head, and to keep herself from making a scene.  Whatever there is to talk about—if there even is something they need to talk about—can be done at a later date, preferably not in the middle of a wedding.  And yet—

“Fine.” Y/N finished off her champagne glass, setting it back down on the table gingerly as a new song begins to drift through the speakers.  “Let’s go.”

Harry stands from his seat first, extending a hand to Y/N to help her up.  Although she’s wary, she takes it, the sensation of his cool rings against her own fingers growing more and more familiar with each moment she spends touching them.  

A few more couples have joined Jo and Laure on the dance floor now, and Y/N and Harry fit right in as he leads her to the center, keeping her hand held firmly in his own as his free hand finds her waist.  Y/N rests her own hand on his shoulder, gripping his sturdy frame carefully.

“‘Is love so fragile…and the heart so hollow’…”

The song, Y/N realizes, doing her best to focus on anything but the way Harry’s gaze is locked onto her with a frightening intensity, is one that she’s heard a few times over their road trip together.  The beat of the song is as familiar as a memory as the two of them sway to it, their motions careful and controlled.

“‘You’re saying I’m fragile; I try not to be…I search only for something I can’t see’…”

Harry’s hand on her waist, Y/N can’t help but notice, is so much more unsure than it was a few nights ago, when he pulled her close on top of the bar.  When he guided her movements in a way that was so much more frenzied than he’s doing now, and in a way that she misses.  She’s missed it, that breathless feeling.  The feeling of not knowing what’s coming next, and being enthralled by the unknown of it all.

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today…give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirking up ever so slightly lets Y/N know that he’s listening just as intently to the lyrics as she is, and has the same events and memories floating through his head.  His hand begins to get braver, tightening his grasp on her as his hand begins to rub gently over her hip.

“Harry…” His name slips from Y/N’s lips involuntarily as she meets his jade eyes in question.  From the corner of her eye, she can see Laure and Jo watching the two of them as they dance, whispering into each other’s ears like girls gossiping in a school hallway. “What—?”

“Sh.” The sound is soft as it falls past Harry’s red lips, the crease between his brow slackening slightly as he sighs. “Just…don’t speak.  Not right now.”

“‘You in the moonlight…with your sleepy eyes…could you ever love a man like me’…”

The request is easy enough, but Y/N can’t make herself listen to it as she cocks her head to the side, the furrow of her own brow matching Harry’s. “Why?”

“‘And you were right…when I walked into your house…I knew I’d never want to leave’…”

The breath that Harry sucks in is mostly taken through his teeth, his lips pursing immediately after as he contemplates his answer. “I just want to…remember this moment. Properly remember it, before tonight ends, and we…”

“‘Sometimes I’m a strong man…sometimes cold and scared’…”

“…We go our separate ways.” Harry finally finishes, his eyes shifting to the floor as he pulls Y/N even closer to his chest.  Her elbow is completely bent to her body as her fingers drift further from his shoulder, moving closer to where the slope of his neck begins.

Although the explanation makes sense, the thought of going a separate way from Harry catches Y/N’s breath in her throat, so much so that she can barely choke out a reply. “Okay.” She manages, the lump in her throat growing with every passing second.

“‘Lovers forever face to face…my city your mountains…stay with me stay’…”

Eyes drifting closed of their own accord, Y/N leans her head forward, settling her cheek into the curve of Harry’s shoulder.  The smell of his cologne lingers in the fabric of his emerald waistcoat, intoxicating her further with every breath she takes.

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today’…”

Something warm and soft presses against the top of Y/N’s head, and she knows that it’s Harry’s own cheek resting against her.  A gentle sigh falls from his mouth, and Y/N feels every moment of it, from the rise and fall of his chest against hers to the breath of air that blows slowly from his lips.  She memorizes the motions, something for her to play in her head again later when she’s alone on a plane back to L.A., where her regular life is waiting for her. Where Brant is waiting for her.

“‘Give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

Y/N quickly lifts a finger to her eye, wiping away the moisture that’s pooling on her lash line before returning her grip to Harry’s shoulder. “If I said…” She hesitates, taking the time to choose her words carefully.  She needs to choose them carefully. “If I said that I loved every moment of the road trip…would you believe me?”

“‘Lovers forever face to face…my city your mountains…stay with me stay’…”

Harry squeezes her hand in his own, his entire body tightening in response to her words, and for a moment, Y/N fears that she’s overstepped.  An apology is already forming in her mouth, about to spill from her tongue, when Harry’s response cuts her off, his voice hesitant and anxious and so quiet that she almost can’t make out the words.

“If I said that I loved every moment I’ve ever spent with you, and not just these last five days, would you believe me?”

“‘I need you to love me…I need you today’…”

Y/N’s eyes snap open, her head quickly lifting from Harry’s shoulder to look at him with wide and astonished eyes.  Although the struggle is written clearly upon his face, he doesn’t shy his eyes away from hers, and instead holds her gaze as the voice of Stevie Nicks continues to croon over the speakers.

“‘Give to me your leather…take from me my lace’…”

As the music fades out, another song begins to fade in, increasing the tempo and causing the other couples around them to break apart and mill around the dance floor.  Only Y/N and Harry stay pressed together, stuck in a bubble of all their own, frozen in a moment of change, and unable to move forward or back in the same way they once had.

Over the fabric of her dress, Y/N can feel Harry’s thumb brushing against her hip, sending electrifying pulses throughout her body.  A loose curl has fallen from his styled hair into the path of his eyes, dusting over his eyelashes lightly as he blinks.  Did she believe him, she wonders?  Could she believe him?

“Can we…” Her mouth is dry when she tries to respond, and she licks her lips quickly, noticing how Harry’s eyes flicker to follow the motion. “Can we discuss this after the wedding? I just—I don’t want to take attention away from Jo and Laure—”

“Yeah.” Harry nods roughly, his hand squeezing hers one last time before he slowly drops it, stepping back from her with great care.  Y/N has to bite her tongue to stop herself from whining in protest.

“Yeah.” Harry repeats the word as he fixes his hair, his eyes drifting from hers. “We can discuss it later.”

…

Later, after Jo and Laure cut the cake, after each of them danced with their parents; later, after the staff members began to clear the plates from every table, after everyone waved goodbye to Jo and Laure as their car drove off to the honeymoon cottage snuggled further up the mountain side; later, after guests began to depart in their own cars; later, after Harry snagged a bottle of merlot from the kitchen, after Y/N slipped off her heels during the walk back to her cabin, the feeling of the ground beneath her feet oddly comforting; later, after Y/N opened the door, allowing Harry to step in first before following…

Later is each of them standing in the kitchen, still in their formal clothes, more disheveled than they were at the start of the day, as Y/N opens the cupboard and reaches for the two largest wine glasses she can find.

“Here.” She sets them down on the counter, allowing Harry to fill them to the brim with the crimson liquid. He pushes a nearly full glass towards her before taking the other in his hand, each of them bringing the glasses to their lips for a long drink.

Harry is nervous, and Y/N can tell.  She’s gotten a bit better at reading him over their journey together, and she can see the anxiety that’s running through him in his body language.  However, although the tapping of his fingers, the rubbing of his lips, and the crease between his brow is a major indication, she knows the real reason she’s aware of Harry’s nerves is because she’s hyper aware of her own.

“You, uh—” Harry clears his throat quietly, the action half reflex, half habit. “You looked really pretty today.  Beautiful, actually.”

A light flush heats Y/N’s cheeks, both from the wine and his compliment. “Thank you.” She murmurs, glancing down at her forest coloured dress. “I’m just glad the dress survived the car.”

A chuckle falls from Harry’s lips as he lifts his wine glass again. “Yeah.  A real miracle, huh?”

Y/N taps her fingers anxiously against the kitchen island, the coolness of the countertop a nice contrast to her heated skin. “Well, considering all the things that didn’t survive…” She trails off, watching as Harry’s face falls when the meaning of her words washes over him.

Still, Harry steels his shoulders, resolve painting itself over his pained features. “You mean us, yeah?” His tone is blunt and to the point. “After we…?”

“I just—what the fuck was that, Harry?” Y/N asks, her voice every bit as exasperated and exhausted as she feels. “I thought we—and then you—and now, saying you—you’ve always…?”

“I know I’ve been—I know I fucked up.” Harry drops his head, shame clear in his voice as he twists a ring around one of his fingers. “I know that, Y/N.  I’m so sorry—”

“I’m just so confused, Harry.  Really, I—” The words spill out of her now, faster than they ever have. “I know we were drunk when we fucked, but I…I liked it.  And the next morning felt so good, and so right, and then Brant called, and it was like…a switch flipped inside you.  And you called us a mistake.  So I just—I don’t understand how you could say that less than forty-eight hours ago, and then tell me you’ve always loved being around me tonight.”

Harry’s tongue swipes over his lips once before he inhales slowly, collecting and preparing himself for the conversation. “I’m sorry.” He says lowly, his accent thicker with remorse. “I didn’t want to—I felt like it was a mistake, but not because of anything you did.  It was because I knew that I had feelings for you, and I knew that you didn’t have feelings for me.”

The admission of his feelings was clear in his speech before he actually spoke the words, but the verbal acknowledgement of them still leaves an ache in Y/N’s chest as she refutes the statement. “You didn’t know that!” She says hotly, her hand tightening around her glass with every breath. “You wouldn’t let us talk about it, so how could you know?”

“Because Brant called!” While Harry’s voice doesn’t raise in volume, it does in intensity. “Brant called, and asked you to dinner, and you said yes!”

“What, did you want me to break things off with him right then and there?  Over the phone?” Y/N demands, an incredulous look on her face as she appraises Harry. “I’m not a bitch, Harry.  That would be heartless, and I’m not—I don’t want to hurt anyone. And maybe, maybe, it would be different if I felt anything for Brant, anything that was even a fraction of what I’ve felt for you, the good and the bad, but I don’t!”

Y/N’s words hang heavy in the air between them, flickering through the room like the dim light of the light fixture above them.  There’s just enough light, however, that she can watch as her words roll over Harry, sinking into every pore of his body until all the defiance rolls out of him.

“What—” His voice cracks with emotion, and he takes a moment to compose himself before he tries again. “What do you feel for me?”

Turning her eyes down to her wine, she raises the glass to her lips, draining more than half of it in one swift motion.  When she speaks again, her voice is slick with the liquor. “What does it matter?” She asks softly. “If you couldn’t believe it enough to not try to push me away the moment I let myself be vulnerable?”

“It wasn’t—your vulnerability wasn’t apparent to me.” Harry lifts the wine bottle automatically, refilling Y/N’s glass with merlot. “It was mine that scared me.  Brant called, and you spoke to him, and I felt like—it was like that first date all over again, when you gave your attention to that guy from your class.  I felt…” Staring into his own wine, Harry mulls over his words as if the liquor can reveal the perfect thing to say. “I felt like a jealous teenager again, like a proper idiot.  And I—you’ve always been so much more put together than me, and refined, and steady, and Brant clearly fits into your world neatly, so I—”

“Stop fucking doing that.” Y/N’s voice is as sharp as ice, as harsh as frostbite. “How many times can we prove to each other that we’re more than our projections of the last seven years?  How many times until it sticks?”

Harry studies Y/N’s face, his emerald eyes scanning over every slope and curve of her expression before he replies. “I didn’t think you felt anything for me.  I’m still not…sure…”

“Harry, I feel—I feel everything with you.” Y/N’s voice drops to a hushed whisper, as if what she’s admitting is top secret. “I feel like I can be myself.  I can be as stupid or serious as I need to be, and you’ll just…accept it.  The only person I’ve ever felt that with before is Jo.  No one else.  And it—it’s terrifying, but good, and then you pushed me away again, and that fucking hurt.  You have the ability to hurt me now, and the moment you got it, you did.”

“I didn’t know.” Harry mumbles the words, rubbing his hand over his flushed cheeks slowly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.  If I’d known—”

“But you didn’t even ask. You can’t do that, okay?” When Y/N looks up at him, she can see the vulnerability on her face reflected in Harry’s eyes. “Please.  I don’t care if you get jealous, or angry, or—or anything else that’s as irritating as I know you can be—” A soft snort echoes from Harry. “Just be honest with me. Tell me.  Ask me.”

“What about…” Harry reaches across the kitchen island, taking Y/N’s hand in his own and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “What I said to you earlier?  I told you how I felt.   And I asked what you feel for me.  Can you be honest with me about that?”

“I can.” Y/N says carefully, pursing her lips for a moment. “I…I’m not sure if I’m ready to say something as…decisive as you do.  I’ve never really—I know that I feel…more intensely for you than I ever have for anyone else.  I just don’t know…how intense, or…I can’t describe it.”

“Maybe I can help.” Harry tugs gently on Y/N’s arm, bringing her around the kitchen island to his side of the room.  With his hand still holding hers, he leads her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her with him.  He’s mindful of the skirt of her dress, fixing it carefully so that it doesn’t get caught beneath her. “To me, love is…wanting to be near the other person. Do you want to be near me?”

Y/N nods softly. “I do.” She whispers into the darkness, the cabin quiet save for their breathing and the chirping of crickets outside.

“And what about…” Harry lifts a hand to caress her face, his calloused fingers gentle against her warm skin as he brushes over her cheekbone. “This?  Do you like being touched by me?”

Y/N’s skin burns beneath his touch. “I do.  A lot, actually.”

“And even when we were arguing…when we weren’t speaking to each other, and wouldn’t look at each other…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, the motion staining his lips an even darker pink than they were before. “Did you want me as badly as I wanted you?”

Harry’s other hand begins to rub Y/N’s thigh over her dress, still heating her skin even with the layers of fabric preventing actual contact.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the sensation. “Yes.” She breathes, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “I did.  I still do.”

“Obviously, I…I’d like it if you could know exactly how you feel, but…” Harry shrugs slightly, his hand drifting down to rest on the side of Y/N’s neck. “I know that it’s different for you.  You’re not used to it.  You don’t have to put a label on it, yeah?  I just want you to be comfortable with me.  As long as you’re mine, you can take as long as you need to express how you feel.”

Relief spreads through Y/N’s body at Harry’s words.  The freedom to take her time, to feel like she doesn’t need to have all the answers right away, is something that none of her past partners have ever offered her, and a familiar sensation begins to curl itself around Y/N’s core as Harry caresses her neck. “Yours?” She repeats slowly, her senses feeling like they’re processing through molasses. “Am I yours?”

“I’d like you to be.” The corner of Harry’s pink lip pulls up, but there’s an air of anxiety in his words. “Are you?”

The fabric of her dress swishes beneath Y/N as she pulls herself into Harry’s, managing to settle one knee of either side of him beneath the layers of tulle. “I am.” She murmurs, her hands wrapping themselves around his sturdy shoulders.  Their noses bump together as she moves closer, breath mingling in the small space between their lips. “I’ll be yours.”

Harry’s breath washes over her as he sighs gently, the fragrance of merlot and champagne settling on the back of her tongue. “Laure and Jo will be happy.”

A small laugh, mostly an exhale of breath more than anything else, sounds from Y/N as she twists the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck between her fingers. “Mmm.  Probably because they won’t have to break up any more fights.”

“No, no, we’ll still fight. It keeps things interesting.” Harry’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, his nose brushing over Y/N’s once more as he tilts his head to the side. “We’ll just have a lot more fun when we make up with each other.”

Harry’s fingers find the bare expanse of Y/N’s back between the straps of her dress, gliding his fingertips over her warm skin.  The sensation of his cool touch against her sends a shiver up her spine, and she twists herself closer to him in return, but keeps the inch gap between their lips. There’s an anticipation between them, but also a stubbornness.  A refusal to be the first one to break.

“A lot more fun?” Y/N questions, massaging the tips of her fingers into Harry’s scalp.  She lets her painted nails scratch along him gently, just enough to make his eyelids flutter at the sensation. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I could tell you…” Harry purrs his words, pressing his head back into the palm of her hand. “Or I could show you.  It’s up to you.”

His words offer Y/N a choice.  Will she continue to push him?  Or will she give in?

When her hands retreat from his hair, Harry whines quietly, his half lidded eyes staring up at her in confusion.  Y/N braces herself against his shoulders as she carefully removes herself from his lap, picking up the fabric of her dress with one hand while grabbing the half empty bottle of wine with the other.

Harry watches as she takes a step backwards, her eyes glued to his as she appraises him.  As comfortable—and as attractive—as he looks on the couch with his emerald slack covered legs spread, sleeves half rolled up, chest heaving from their close contact, Y/N needs him somewhere else.

Harry’s tongue glides slowly over his parted lips as Y/N raises the bottle of wine to her mouth, taking a small sip before turning on her heel and walking to the staircase that leads up to the master bedroom of the cabin.  She only gets two steps up the stairs before she feels Harry’s hot breath on the back of her neck, his back and arms bracing against her as she climbs slowly.  With one hand still holding her dress out of her way, Y/N steps over the summit of the stairs, not waiting for Harry before she makes her way to the bedroom.

The bedroom itself has been tidied by the hotel staff since Y/N last saw it, and she’s never been more thankful for it; she and Jo had left it in a mess in their efforts to get ready that morning.  Instead, the staff have perfectly made the bed, complete with all the decorative pillows that Y/N had tossed onto the floor the night before, set fresh candles on the night tables and dresser, and left carefully rolled white towels on the edge of the bed.

A pair of tattooed arms wrap around Y/N’s waist, and a smile lights up her face as she falls back into Harry’s strong chest. “Your room is lovely.  Much nicer than those motels.” He rasps in her ear, teeth just barely grazing her lobe as he speaks. “Do you have a lighter for the candles?”

“You want to light candles?” Y/N raises an eyebrow as she drops her dress from her hand in order to trail her fingers over Harry’s wrist. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

Pressing a light kiss to her neck, Harry shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He murmurs. “We were so rushed last time.  I want to enjoy tonight.”

A smile creeps over Y/N’s face as she carefully unlaces Harry’s hands from her waist. “The lighter is in the bedside table, on the left.”

As Harry turns his attention to searching through the drawer, Y/N sets the wine down on the dresser, appraising her reflection in the mirror propped on top of it.  She begins to unpin the hair that had been carefully styled that morning, her hair only a fraction as put together as it had been. Setting the pins down on the wood surface in front of her, she takes her time taking off her earrings and bracelets, her eyes following Harry’s movements in the mirror.

The broad expanse of his back is still covered by his green waistcoat, rumpled as it stretches over the slope of his body.  With each movement, a new flicker of candlelight begins to glow in front of him, illuminating the silhouette of his body with soft flickers of orange and yellow.

“You’re a bit of a romantic, aren’t you?” The question slips from Y/N’s lips before she’s turned around completely to watch Harry’s actions without the aid of the mirror. “You like this sort of thing—the candles, the cabin in the forest, coming from a wedding…”

Harry’s body shakes as a laugh rolls through him, his side profile barely visible as he turns to light another candle next to the bed. “I suppose I am, yeah.  Are you not?”

Y/N gives half a shrug, tucking her now loose hair behind her ears as best she can. “I don’t know. I’ve never really considered myself one…never saw the point in grand gestures.  They’re not very realistic.”

“They don’t have to be realistic.  That’s why it’s a grand gesture.” Harry says easily, sauntering towards her with a dimpled grin on his face.  He reaches carefully behind Y/N, his thumb flicking the lighter to spark as he tilts the candle towards the flame. “And I’d hardly call candles a grand gesture. Haven’t you ever been properly romanced?”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplates the question. “Not…really? I mean, there’s been a few things, but nothing…I don’t know.  We were always busy—”

“You can always make time for someone if you want to.” Harry sets the lit candle back down on the dresser, repeating the motion with two more before setting the lighter down as well. “Hasn’t Brant ever—well, I know he hasn’t, actually—” A snort leaves Harry’s mouth as he begins to run his hands over Y/N’s bare shoulders, massaging the skin gently. “Haven’t any of your exes asked you what you wanted, or…done something spontaneous for you, like a surprise gift, or trip, or…?”

Harry trails off as he registers the expression on Y/N’s face, and feels the tensing of her shoulders beneath his hands. “Um, not really.” She says, doing her best to keep her tone light. “We were always very…scheduled.  A surprise trip wasn’t really feasible.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth tugs down into a frown, his hands continuing to work over the knots in Y/N’s shoulders as he turns her around.  He presses himself behind her, moving her hair to one side of her neck before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her spine. “The more we speak, the more I see why you’re so guarded, love.” He murmurs, his tone carefully controlled. “You don’t need to be like that with me.  If you’re…afraid of what I’ll think, or…you know I tease you, but you’re always fine with me.  We can be serious—”

“No.” Y/N shakes her head adamantly, glancing at Harry over the curve of her own shoulder as she rests one hand over his own. “I don’t want to be serious.  I’m so sick of being serious.” She maneuvers Harry’s hand to her back as she speaks, guiding his fingers until they find the zipper of her dress. “I like that you tease me, and aren’t afraid to irritate me, and how you care enough to listen to what I say…”

The sound of her zipper slowly being tugged down pricks Y/N’s ears, and she watches Harry’s movement in the mirror.  There’s a clear look of concentration painted onto his expression as he helps remove her dress, but the moment he catches her eye, he locks into her gaze.  As he finishes pulling down the zipper, he keeps his emerald eyes glued to hers in the reflective surface, his stare becoming more and more hypnotic with every passing second.

“So what you’re saying is…” Harry’s lips brush against her ear as he leans closer to her, pressing a sensual kiss right over her pulse point. “You want me to romance you, but still annoy the shit out of you?”

Although it’s breathless, the sound that leaves Y/N’s mouth is unmistakably a laugh as Harry begins to trail kisses down her neck, slipping the strap of her dress down her shoulder. “Yes. It’s oddly endearing.”

“Oddly endearing is my middle name.” Harry’s laugh matches hers as his hands continue their task of removing her clothing.  Once Y/N’s straps are free of her shoulders, Harry helps her step out of the hunter green dress, carefully maneuvering the full skirt to the corner chair without creasing it.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty dress, now would—” Harry freezes mid sentence as he turns back around, his mouth falling slack as if seeing Y/N for the first time.

Despite having been naked and underneath his body less than forty eight hours ago, Y/N crosses her arms over her body.  The black teddy bodysuit she’d purchased to wear under her bridesmaid dress had, at the time of purchase, been more for practicality than anything.  The underwire of the strapless bra supported by the corseted middle was comfortable enough to keep her properly situated in her dress without a wardrobe malfunction, as well as serving as a barrier between Y/N’s sensitive skin and the stitched seams of the gown.  It’s not until this moment, with Harry staring at her with a hungry stupor in his eyes, does Y/N realize how racy the undergarment is.

“What?” She says after a moment, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. “I—it’s not like you haven’t seen me before.”

The nerves woven into her tone are enough to snap Harry from his thoughts. “This is…different.” He approaches her again, his steps slow and measured as he lays a hand on her lace covered side. “I was pissed last time I had you…didn’t get to properly take in the sight of you…” Harry scratches his nails over one of the mesh panels, his jade eyes darkening another shade once more.

“I didn’t get to enjoy you, either.  And yet you’re still fully clothed.” Y/N begins to fiddle with the buttons of Harry’s emerald waistcoat, working them open one by one as she forces herself to steady her breathing. “That’s not very fair, is it?”

“I suppose it’s not. Not fair at all.” Harry allows her to pull his waistcoat from his body, and it’s not until Y/N reaches the third button of his button down shirt that she realizes how much he’s enjoying her undressing him.

Every breath that Harry takes is ragged and shallow, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself controlled as Y/N’s fingers trail down the exposed skin of his chest.  The sight of Harry’s throat tightening as her nails scrape his skin is too much for her to resist, and she quickly attaches her lips to the base of his neck as she pulls the now unbuttoned shirt from his body.

Swiping her tongue over the new mark at the base of his throat, Y/N manages to pull a moan from Harry, and her lips pull back into a small smile against his hot skin at the sound. “You sound really nice when you do that.” She murmurs, her hand trailing down to his belt as she speaks.

She can feel Harry swallow again, and when he replies, his voice is as low as she’s ever heard it. “Then you’ll have to make me do it more, won’t you, pet?” His eyes are blown darker with lust as he grips Y/N’s hips tight, pressing the pads of his fingers into her flesh. “Are you going to give me moans that are just as pretty?  Or am I going to have to pull them from your stubborn little mouth?”  

Y/N’s breath hitches in her chest at his dominant tone, her mouth falling open in a gasp against Harry’s collar bones.  She can feel the vibrations of his laugh in her lips, the tingle not unlike the burning she feels in her core, and Harry’s hand travels from her hips to her chin as the burning increases.

“Cat got your tongue, hm?” Harry grips Y/N’s chin between his thumb and forefinger as she fumbles with his belt, the action clumsier without her looking at her movements. “Don’t get all shy now, m’love.  It’s just me. We’ve been here before.”

Pulling his belt from his dress pants, Y/N tosses it to the side, her fingers resting on the warm skin of Harry’s abdomen. “I know.  It just feels different now, that’s all.  After everything we said, and…” Her eyes are unable to hold his as she drifts off, and she drops her gaze to his swallow tattoos as her cheeks redden.

A gentle tap on her chin brings her eyes back to meet Harry’s intense gaze. “I know it feels different, but that’s not bad.” Harry’s voice softens as his thumb begins to stroke over her skin, the motion slow and gentle. “It can be really good, actually. I told you, I can properly enjoy you now.  If you’ll let me, that is.  It’s up to you.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip as she reaches behind her back.  Her fingers quickly find the laces at the back of the garment, and she pulls the tie undone slowly, making sure to keep her eyes locked with Harry’s the entire time. “I want that.  I want you, Harry.  I want…all of you.”

She barely has her laces undone before Harry is grasping at her hips, pulling her body tight against his again for another desperate kiss.  His lips glide between hers smoothly, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle before he lets his teeth nip at her bottom lip, tugging at the flesh in a hungry way.  With her lingerie hanging loosely off her body, Harry easily yanks the material down her body, fully exposing Y/N’s breasts and stomach.  

The sight of her exposed skin is enough to grab Harry’s attention from the removal of clothing, and he leaves the lace bodysuit hanging at her hips as his kisses begin to travel down her jaw, her neck, her collar bones, to her breasts.  A breathless gasp falls from Y/N’s mouth as Harry’s open mouthed kisses become wetter and longer, until his hot mouth is wrapped around her stiff nipple.

“Harry—” Y/N tangles a hand in his already ruined curls, yanking hard at his hair as his teeth scrape against her sensitive skin. “God, be careful—”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Harry murmurs the phrase against her breast, barely pulling his mouth off enough to speak.  His eyes, although half lidded with lust, flicker up to her with a playful look. “Y’really want me to be careful, pet?  Or do you want me to devour you?”

His words send another flood of heat to her core, and it takes all of Y/N’s focus to keep herself standing upright. “Shut up.” She mutters, voice pitched higher than normal as she tugs on Harry’s hair again, half in need and half to solicit a groan from him.

The groan he emits, however, just adds more sensation to his teasing as the sound causes a vibration against her nipple, and Y/N barely manages to pull Harry away from her before her knees buckle.

Harry, however, wastes no time, and it’s only the moment after Y/N pulls him off of her that he’s kissing her again, teeth clacking against teeth as he backs her up towards the bed.  When the back of her legs hits the mattress, Y/N stumbles back, but Harry catches her in time to lower her gently to the bed.

There’s an unmistakable tenderness in the movement, and the action catches Y/N right in the throat. “Thought you weren’t being careful?” Despite her ribbing tone, Y/N’s voice is breathless as she settles back into the soft sheets. “Isn’t that what you just said, pet?”

A growl rips from the back of Harry’s throat as he cages himself over her shaking body, his mouth already reattached to her chest to leave a fresh trail of bruises from her sternum to her abdomen. “You’re such a bloody minx, y’know that?”

Although she opens her mouth to reply, the only sound that leaves Y/N’s lips is a gasp as Harry quickly lifts her hips to pull her teddy completely off, tossing it to the side without so much as a glance.  He leaves one last bite on her lower abdomen, just hard enough to leave an imprint of his mouth, before soothing the mark with a wet swipe of his tongue over the red skin.

“Knees up, minx.” Harry’s accent is thick, dripping from his voice like honey as his hands rub her lower calves, helping to push them up on the bed until Y/N’s legs are bent and spread open in a position he likes.  The way that Harry’s tongue swipes over his lips tells Y/N of his intentions right away, and she braces herself on her elbows on the bed before pulling back.

Harry, who had been leaving open mouthed kisses along Y/N’s knees, makes a disgruntled sound at the loss of contact. “Where do y’think you’re going?” He asks in frustration, pulling himself onto the bed and crawling after her.  Gripping one of her ankles, he spreads her open again, resuming the path his mouth had been making to her core a moment ago. “Trying to get away from me?”

A breathless laugh falls from Y/N’s mouth. “More like trying to get comfortable.  It’s been so long since I’ve had someone…” Despite Harry’s position between her legs, Y/N can’t bring herself to say the words.

“Had someone what? Eat your cunt?” Harry asks crudely, raising an eyebrow as he kisses her inner thigh.  His hot breath rolls over her core, causing Y/N to sigh as she relaxes back into the sheets. “That’s a tragedy, love.  Especially when you taste so sweet.  I remember from a few nights ago…I just barely got a taste when we…”

She should know better, Y/N thinks.  She should know, now that she knows Harry well enough, that something like this is coming, especially since it’s exactly what he did last time he was between her legs. Still, when his ringed index finger runs quickly between her folds, becoming coated in her wetness just for Harry to pop it into his mouth like a satisfied and smug ass, Y/N half jumps off the bed.

“Sensitive, are you?” Harry laughs around his finger, taking great care to lick off every bit of her wetness. “Just as sensitive as you are sweet.”

Y/N struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, doing her best to give him a scathing look. “You could’ve warned me, you—”

Her complaint is cut off abruptly by Harry licking over her slit with the flat of his tongue, collecting every drop of arousal before suctioning his lips over her clit. “What was that?” He mutters between his actions, flicking his tongue over Y/N’s clit as she grasps the sheets between her fingers. “I didn’t quite catch it, love.”

Falling back onto the pillows, Y/N allows her eyes to close for just a moment as she twists the cotton sheets between her hands. “Shut—shut up.” She moans, one hand releasing the sheets to latch onto Harry’s curls.  She tugs harshly, and the moan he releases sends shivers from her core into her spine.

Although Harry laughs against her, his smirk detectable against her folds as his tongue continues to work over her, a silence falls between them as he continues to eat her out. It shouldn’t be surprising, she manages to think as she tugs on his curly locks, that Harry is giving her the best oral she’s ever received.  Everything he does to her, from irritating her, making her laugh, to pleasuring her, is so intense that it only makes sense.

Harry’s tongue dips inside Y/N’s entrance, proving that thought to be true for what seems to be the millionth time that night.  Y/N can’t help but writhe on the sheets now, her body unable to contain the pleasure that’s building inside her core like never before.

When a gasping whine echoes from Y/N, a sound she’s never even heard herself make before, one of Harry’s hands moves from its position on her thigh, where he’s been holding her open so he can continue to work.  It travels up her leg to her pelvis, pressing flat on her lower abdomen and keeping her hips secure to the bed.

“You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you, pet?” Harry’s mouth is red, coated with her wetness when he glances at her.  He begins to rub circles on her abdomen, both soothing her and creating an ache deep inside her that she knows can only be satisfied by his cock. “You’re going to be a good girl and cum on my mouth, yeah?”

Y/N whimpers in response, barely managing to keep her eyes open as she nods desperately. “I-I need—your fingers, or—”

“No, no, pet, you don’t need that.” Harry assures her between long licks over her clit. “I’ll fill you later, but you’re going to cum from my mouth.  I know you can do it, love.  I know you can.”

“I—” Harry’s hand pressed to her abdomen is the only thing keeping Y/N from rutting her hips into the air in desperation. “Please, Harry, I—”

“You can do it.” Breath hot against her entrance, Harry dips his tongue within her again, moving it in and out slowly as his nose brushes against her sensitive bundle of nerves. “You—fuck—you’re so ready, Y/N, I know you can do it…just relax, pet…let go…”

Let go.  The command is so simple, and yet, isn’t that all Y/N’s ever wanted?  Isn’t that exactly what Harry has managed to allow her to do this entire trip?  No sooner does the thought cross her mind that Harry’s teeth graze over her clit, tweaking it ever so gently before pressing the flat of his tongue against it once more.  He gives a harsh suck, mouthing something she can’t understand, and then Y/N is tugging on his chestnut curls with a renewed desperation as she falls over the brink of pleasure.

“Harry, Harry, Harry…” His name is the only thing Y/N can repeat as she orgasms, her head falling back against the pillows while the waves of her pleasure wash over her.

Harry untangles her hand from the sheets, weaving his fingers through her own to give her something solid to hold onto as she loses herself in the sensations.  Although he keeps his mouth pressed to her, his actions are gentler, just licking the wetness that drips from her entrance as she rides out her orgasm.

It takes a few moment for the pleasure to recede enough that Y/N can become aware of her surroundings again. Chest heaving, she lolls her head to the side, her hand falling from Harry’s curls and onto the crumpled sheets.

Harry finally pulls away from her then, pulling himself from between her legs to the side of Y/N’s shaking body.  He licks his wet lips, savouring the last drops of her arousal before pressing softer kisses to her stomach, her sternum, her collar bones, until he reaches her lips.

“You alright, love?” Harry asks, voice quiet in the hum of the night as he settles beside her.  He brushes a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead, and the motion is so gentle that Y/N almost tears up. “Just take some deep breaths.”

“I—” Y/N sucks in another breath as Harry wraps an arm around her stomach. “I’m alright.  Just…trying to catch my breath.” She laughs nervously as her cheeks redden in a post-orgasm haze. “You’re, uh, you’re really good at that.”

Harry’s laugh is much more amused than hers. “Thank you.  I quite enjoy it, so it would be rather sad if I wasn’t good at it.”

“That’s true.” Y/N hums, rolling her head onto Harry’s shoulder.  He rubs small circles on her waist, and the action gives her something to focus on as she evens her breathing.

Harry sighs in satisfaction. “You know, if you had shagged Brant, I doubt his cunnilingus skills would have been as good as mine.” He says thoughtfully, as if he’s been pondering the idea for a while.

Y/N groans, bracing her hand against is muscled chest to shove him away. “Do not mention Brant while I’m lying next to you naked!  Christ, I shouldn’t have to say that!”

Harry laughs as he readjusts himself, pulling his body over hers while his lips work against her neck. “I’m sorry.  I won’t bring him up again, I swear.”

Huffing slightly, Y/N settles herself back into the sheets. “Good.”

“But for the record—”

“If you keep speaking, I’m not giving you a blowjob.” Y/N warns, shooting Harry a warning glance. “Are you prepared to give that up?”

The speed at which Harry’s face falls is almost comical.  His brow creases as his ruby lips pull down into a pout, his arms keeping himself suspended above Y/N as he relents. “Alright, I’m sorry.  Truly, I am.  I’ll stop.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes focus on Harry’s shining green irises. “Good, because I really want to blow you.”

The crude admission catches Harry by surprise, his eyebrows jumping up in shock as he rolls to the side. Propping himself up on his elbow, he rakes a hand through his messy curls as he answers with a measured tone. “You do?”

Y/N nods slowly, pushing herself up to sit on her knees as one of her hands begins to trace over the muscles of Harry’s chest. “I do.  Like you said…I didn’t get to last time.  And I bet you taste good.”

Harry sucks in a breath through his teeth as he gives a sharp nod. “Yeah.  Okay.  If you want to—”

“I do.” Y/N presses on Harry’s chest to push him back again, but this time she does it carefully, settling him back into the sheets like he did for her.  Moving so that she’s on her knees beside him, she gives him a quick kiss, only letting herself enjoy his slightly chapped lips against hers for a moment before she directs her attention to the bulge in his Calvin Klein boxers.

Y/N trails a finger over the line of hair leading to the waistband, feeling the muscles of Harry’s abdomen contract under her finger. “Sensitive, huh?” She asks quietly, mimicking what he had said to her before earlier.

Harry inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “Yeah.  So don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.  I’m just…warming you up.” Y/N continues the motion for a moment before her fingers drift to the elastic of his boxers.  She dips a finger beneath it, continuing to tease his abdomen before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his clothed bulge.

Harry’s hips jerk in reaction, his mouth falling open as he spits out a curse. “Bloody hell…”

“Feel good?” Y/N only lifts her mouth enough so that the soft murmur can be heard.  She can feel Harry’s cock twitching as her lips move over it, and the thought that she’s turning him on enough for him to twitch in his boxers sends a flood of heat between her thighs.

“Feels really good, yeah.” Harry’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and the effort it takes to keep his voice controlled is apparent on his face. “Keep going.”

Y/N hums in response, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulling them down his legs as Harry lifts his hips.  She waits until his boxers are completely removed to turn her attention back to his cock, and the sight of it makes her mouth water.

It’s just as big as she remembers, with a slight curve along the length leading to the red and leaking head. Y/N can practically see the heat radiating off of it, she thinks, and when she wraps her hand around the base, her suspicions are confirmed.

The weak groan that falls from Harry’s cherry red lips is the only thing that keeps Y/N from getting completely distracted by admiring him.  She pumps him slowly a few times, and his length throbs in her hand as more blood floods to his pelvis.  Licking her lips once, Y/N leans down and gives a small kitten lick to the leaking tip, collecting the precum on her tongue.

A garbled moan sounds from Harry’s chest, and Y/N watches from the corner of her eye as one hand tucks into his own curls before the other gathers her hair within his fist. Although he’s holding her, he doesn’t force her down, or try to guide her motions.  He wants to see what she’s going to do of her own accord.

Y/N takes her time, licking slowly from the head of Harry’s cock to one of the pulsing veins that runs down his shaft.  She traces the line with the tip of her tongue, enjoying the sounds that the action pulls from Harry before taking the head of his cock between her lips. Mindful of her teeth, she sucks slowly, pushing herself further and further down his length until her nose is just touching his pelvis.

“That’s it, minx.” Harry moans his words, his voice breathless and strained as he cards his fingers through her hair.  His flushed chest is rising and falling prominently as Harry takes deep breath after deep breath. “Doing so well, aren’t you?”

The praise sends a wave of delight through Y/N, and she begins to bob her head faster, working what she can’t fit into her mouth with her hand.  Harry, she learns, is extremely vocal during sex, which isn’t exactly surprising now that she knows him better.  Still, his moans and whimpers are all the encouragement Y/N needs to keep her pace, slowing down only to tease him.  And she loves to tease him.

“Fuck—” A groan rips from Harry’s chest as Y/N slows her motions again, trailing her tongue up his length before focusing on his tip with great interest. “C’mon, darling, don’t be mean to me.  I wasn’t mean to you.”

“I’m just enjoying myself, Harry.” Y/N says innocently, batting her eyes at him as she kisses the head of his cock. “Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?”

The question is simple enough, but the sinful context makes Harry buck his hips into her hand. “Y’know I do, pet, but you’re torturing me…”

Y/N lifts her mouth from his length with a quiet pop as her strokes slow down. “Am I?”

“Fucking hell—” Another moan forces its way through Harry’s clenched teeth. “You won’t be laughing when I’m fucking you at the same pace you’re teasing me right now.”

Y/N’s movements stutter for the first time since she began. “What?”

“Didn’t think of that, did you, minx?  Thought you could tease me, and I wouldn’t get you back?” Although Harry’s words are domineering, he pants through them, throwing his head back against the pillow. “That—Christ—That’s not how it works.”

Speeding up her stroking of his length, Y/N leans over Harry’s body, sponging a kiss just at the corner of his lips. “You don’t mean that, Harry.  You need to fuck me just as badly as I need it.”

“You need it, do you?” Harry’s eyes snap open, lust completely clouding the jade green of his irises. “How badly?  Tell me.”

Y/N kisses him once more, pulling back the moment his tongue tries to pull her in for more.  She returns her mouth to the tip of his cock, letting her tongue flick over his slit before sucking on him again. “So badly, Harry. I’ve never felt as full as I did with you in me…”

“Oh fuck…” Harry’s words slip into drawn out moans as he tugs on his own hair, his hips stuttering up into her hand again. “Stop.”

The sudden command makes Y/N pause, and she pulls her mouth off of Harry’s length to stare up at him with wide eyes. “What?” Her hand pauses its motions, but stays wrapped loosely around his base. “Is—is everything okay?  Did I hurt you?”

The concern and fear in Y/N’s voice is enough to snap Harry out whatever headspace he had been slipping into. “No, pet, you didn’t hurt me.  I just need to be inside your tight cunt.  Can’t stand another moment without it, if I’m honest.”

The twitch of his cock in her hands confirms his words, and Y/N gives one last lick to its biggest vein before releasing him.  She keeps her mouth in use, however, by sponging kisses up Harry’s already marked chest, stopping only once she reaches his lips.

The kiss they share is passionate, with a rhythm finally established between the two of them as Harry slots his plump lips neatly between hers.  There’s no awkward turning of their heads, trying to find a way to slip a tongue into a mouth, and no teeth clicking together.  Already, each of them knows the best way to fit together, as if they were meant to all along.

“How do you—” Harry mutters the words against Y/N’s lips, his breath flowing into her own panting mouth with every gasp. “How do you want me, love?”

Y/N takes a moment to think, but only a moment. “On top.  I like…” Her cheeks flush with even more heat. “I like feeling you over me. And holding your hands…”

Harry raises a surprised brow at the confession she spills into his mouth. “My hands?”

Forehead still pressed against his, Y/N nods, picking up one of his hands and lacing his ringed fingers through her own. “Mhmm.  They’re strong, and…and they fit in mine so nicely.” Y/N glances at Harry through her lashes, shy despite having his cock in her mouth less than a minute ago.  It’s the intimacy, she realizes.  A sexual act is nothing new to her, but putting emotion behind it…

“They do fit together well, don’t they?” Harry agrees, squeezing her hand as he leans forward, pressing puckered lips to her forehead. “Alright, then.  Lie down for me.”

After Harry grabs a condom from Y/N’s bag and rolls it on, it takes a moment for the two of them to get positioned comfortably.  Y/N leans back on the rumpled sheets, fixing one of the pillows behind her head with Harry’s help.  Once he knows that she’s comfortable, Harry spreads Y/N’s legs again, situating himself between them with his arms propped up on either side of her body.

Although it’s the same position as the last time they had sex, Y/N can’t help but feel like it’s entirely different in every single aspect.  While the drunken need that she felt for Harry had been exciting, and while he had satisfied her incredibly, there’s something different about knowing that she has feelings for the man who’s so interested in pleasuring her, and that he has feelings for her in return.

Harry moves one hand to his length, rubbing the tip of it between Y/N’s soaked folds as his other hand grasps her own. “Are you ready?” He murmurs, his lips hovering just over her own.

Y/N nods quickly, squeezing his hand tightly. “Please, H.  I need it.”

The first thrust into her is slow.  Painstakingly slow.  Y/N knows that she should be appreciative of the restrain Harry has, and that she needs a moment to adjust to his size, but the way he stretches her makes her feel so complete that she can’t help but whine for more.

“Faster, Harry.” She pants, squeezing her eyes shut as he continues to enter her slick entrance. “I…”

“Sh, love.  Just spreading you open first, yeah?” The effort to control himself shows through the strain in his voice, but Harry still manages to sponge a quick kiss over her lips. “Besides…I warned you, didn’t I?  Said I’d tease you if you teased me…”

Y/N whines loudly as Harry finally bottoms out, his hips pressing flush to hers and bringing a kind of euphoric fullness that she’s never felt before. “Oh God…” She drags out her speech, her eyes barely managing to flutter open in time to catch the look on Harry’s face as he feels her walls squeeze him.

His brows are drawn together, an all too familiar crease appearing between them.  It’s a look of concentration, but the pull of his mouth and the quiet pants leaving it tell Y/N that it’s so much more than that. His pupils are blown out, dilated so much that she can barely see the green that she loves so much, and every few moments, Harry’s eyelids flutter, times perfectly with the contraction of Y/N’s pussy around his length.  

“Move, Harry.” Y/N begs, grasping his free hand and squeezing it along with his other hand. “Please.”

Her pleading sends a shiver down Harry’s spine, and he begins to thrust in and out of her slowly, letting her adjust to each pace before gradually increasing his movements. “Like that, pet?” He asks, voice low and thick with pleasure. “Is that what you wanted?”

A whine is all the answer he gets, as Y/N is so far gone past the point of being able to reply with a coherent sentence.  The only thing she can think of is how good it feels to have Harry fill her.  How the feeling of his cock inside her is simultaneously too much for her, the most content she’s ever felt, and not enough to satisfy the ache deep within her.  Every one of her senses is consumed with Harry—the touch of his skin to hers, at her pelvis, over her abdomen, his hands squeezing hers with desperation as he thrusts inside of her repeatedly.  The scent of his cologne mingled with his sweat, so hot and all consuming that the air feels thick with it.  The taste of that scent on the back of her tongue, along with his Merlot flavoured kisses that linger in her mouth.  The sight of him caged over her, his sweaty curls and flushed skin being all that she can see.  The sound of his moans, hot and low in her ear.

Everything is Harry. Had there every been a time where it wasn’t?

When Harry pulls his hands from Y/N’s, a small whimper stumbles out of her mouth, growing louder when his thrusts begin to slow and the ball of tension in her core begins to uncoil. “What—?” She begins, the question still half formed on her tongue when Harry moves his grip to her knees.

In one swift motion, Harry has her left knee over his shoulder, quickly repeating the movement with her right leg as he sponges stuttered kisses over the newly available skin.  “Need to be deeper.” He mutters, pressing a wet and breathless kiss to Y/N’s lips before sitting up for more leverage.  Weaving his fingers back through hers, Harry begins to thrust again, the head of his cock rubbing against new areas with every motion.

And oh.  It’s like an entirely new feeling.  The moans and whimpers are leaving Y/N’s mouth in a steady stream now, with any ability she had to filter her volume gone the moment Harry’s cock presses against her G-spot.

“Fuck, Harry, right there, baby—” Y/N releases one of his hands to throw her arm around his shoulder, digging her nails into the muscled skin as the words of pleasure slip past her lips. “That’s it, that’s so fucking good—”

“Yeah?” Harry grunts, bracing himself against the bed so that he can increase the speed of his movements. “You like how my cock fills you?”

Y/N nods desperately, the movement stuttered as she shakes from both her pleasure and the force of Harry driving his hips into her own. “Yeah, I—fuck, you’re going to make me cum…”

Harry’s face twists in concentration as he removes his braced hand from the bed and trails it down Y/N’s body, pausing just enough so that he can tweak her nipple as he passes by. He continues on until he reaches his destination, and settles his large thumb over her clit to rub fast and concise circles on the bundle of nerves.

“Oh—” Y/N’s back arches off the bed as her nails dig into the skin of Harry’s shoulder, as well as the back of his hand.  She barely manages to pant through her whimpered words. “Fuck, I’m going to cum—”

“Please, baby.” Harry pleads with her, his expression desperate as he stipples more kisses to Y/N’s knees, the only inches of skin that he can get his mouth on as he drives himself harder into her. “Need you to cum for me, I—fuck, minx, I need it more than you know.”

A sharp gasp falls from Y/N’s slick mouth as Harry hits her G-spot again, and the sharp repeated motion combined with his stimulation of her clit is enough to send her barrelling headfirst over the edge.  A desperate sound leaves her mouth, half moan, half whine, as the coil in Y/N’s core snaps, sending shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of her body.  

The reaction is almost instantaneous.  As her body shakes with pleasure, abdomen contracting and releasing over and over, Y/N feels Harry’s hips begin to stutter, his movement growing sloppier as the constriction of her core works Harry to an orgasm.

“Y/N—that’s it, pet, just—yes—” Harry’s words are more coherent than hers, but still just form a string of half put together phrases as he presses himself deep inside her, his eyes snapping shut as he spills inside the condom.  A choked sound works its way out of his throat, pulling from deep within his chest, and the pads of his rough fingers dig into her thighs as he grounds himself throughout his orgasm.  

Y/N’s shuddering climax finishes before Harry’s does, and all she can do is collapse back in the sheets, enjoying the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her one last time before he pulls out slowly to clean himself and throw away the condom.  An involuntary whine, quiet but audible, falls from her lips at the empty feeling that’s left behind, but it’s soon satiated after Harry returns to the bed, wrapping his shaking arms around her and pulling her tight into his chest.

His chest, like her own, is soaked in sweat, covered in dark bruises, and heaving from the aftermath of the orgasm he’s just finished, but it’s the only place Y/N wants to be.  She presses her ear into his skin, his racing heartbeat thumping beneath her head, and she focuses on the pounding pattern as she attempts to catch her breath.

Harry speaks first, clearing his throat before his wrecked voice fills her senses. “That was…that was so fucking good.  I was worried that it wouldn’t be as good as the last time, because we were more sober, but…”

“It was better, yeah. I know.” Y/N agrees, her voice filled with exhaustion and contentment as she kisses over a purple bruise forming on Harry’s collar bone. “I think…I think knowing how we feel made it better.”

“I agree.” Harry’s hands move over her back, his fingertips tracing invisible patterns onto her sweaty skin. “Passionate sex with someone you care for with candles lit…all after the wedding of your best friend…was that romantic enough for you?” There’s a teasing edge to his voice, just barely audible beneath the rasp.

A tired smile lifts the corners of Y/N’s swollen lips. “I suppose so.  But it’s not hard to be, in comparison to others…”

“Well, from now on, you’re going to be comparing to me, yeah?” Harry shifts his arms around her, tightening his grip before reaching for the crumpled sheet to pull it over their bodies. “This’ll be the marker, I suppose.  And I’ll have to work on raising the bar with everything I do for you.”

“What about what I’ll do for you?” Y/N just barely manages to raise her head off Harry’s chest enough to look at him. “This is a two way street, you know.  I have to romance you, too.”

“Mm.  True.” Harry hums as he resumes tracing patterns on Y/N’s skin. “How about you stop making fun of my taste in romantic movies?  I’d like to watch The Notebook without you poking fun at it.  If you’re laughing at all the emotional scenes, it makes me feel pathetic when I cry at them.”

Y/N laughs quietly as she rakes her fingers through Harry’s sweaty curls. “That’s asking too much from me. How about…I can still make fun of your taste in romantic movies, but I’ll hold you and comfort you when you cry at the really dumb scenes?”

An exhausted snort rolls through Harry’s chest, but there’s a degree of tenderness hidden in the sound. “I suppose that’s the best offer I’ll get, isn’t it?”

“You suppose right.” Y/N sighs contently, her eyes drifting shut as she settles herself into Harry’s chest.  The feeling of the subtle rise and fall of his muscles is enough to soothe her to sleep, and she’s just settling in for what she thinks may be the best sleep of her life when her head suddenly drops as Harry abruptly pulls away from her.

“Harry—” Y/N’s eyes snap open as she pulls herself into an upright position, any feeling of calm that she had a moment ago gone out the window. “What the fuck?”

A sheepish Harry smiles at her from the dresser. “We left the candles lit, love.” He says, blowing out the three lit candles on the wooden surface before walking to one of the bedside tables, where four more candles are lit. “It’s not safe.”

“No, you know what’s no safe?  Jerking your girlfriend from her sleep when she’s exhausted, and has to be up early tomorrow.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she flops back into the pillows.

Harry blows out the last candle before sliding back into the bed. “Would you rather I let the cabin burn down?  That wouldn’t be very romantic of me, now would it?”

Turning over on her side, Y/N faces the wall away from Harry. “You’re an asshole.”

“Don’t be mean.” Harry’s pout is tangible in the press of his lips to her bare shoulder. “We were having a moment!”

“Not anymore.”

“You don’t mean that.” Harry laughs as he wraps his arms around Y/N, pulling her to spoon into his chest. “Just go to sleep.  You’ll be less grumpy in the morning.”

“Fuck off.” Y/N mutters, but she allows herself to be held against Harry as his breathing once again soothes her to sleep.

…

“Are you sure I can’t drive?”

Harry laughs as he shuts the loaded trunk of the Impala, the sound echoing off the trees around them and scaring a few birds that had settled in the branches. “After that disaster in Nebraska?  No way.”

“Did you let her drive Stevie?” Laure asks, shock woven through her voice as her eyes flicker between Y/N and Harry. “Really?”

“No, I let her try to drive Stevie.  And then she stalled her, and lost all driving privileges forever.” Harry replies with a snort, shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders as his keys jangle in his hands. “So I’ll be driving the forty-two hours back to L.A.”

Y/N crosses her arms with an irritated sigh. “Whatever.  Don’t complain to me when you get stiff from being in one position for eight hours a day.”

As Harry rounds the back of the car, he shoots Y/N a smug grin, walking up behind her to wrap his warm arms around her waist. “But you’ll give me massages, won’t you, baby?  I’d really appreciate them…”

“Okay, this is still weird for me.” Jo says slowly, shaking her head as her eyes flicker between their intertwined pose and Laure, who looks equally as bemused. “A week ago, we had to practically beg Harry to drive you, Y/N, and now you’re…?”

“It was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” Harry asks, resting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder with a smirk. “No woman could last five days with me while resisting the Styles charm…”

Y/N shrugs his chin off her shoulder with a snort. “Right.” She scoffs as she unravels his hands from her waist. “The Styles charm.  We’ll pretend that’s a thing.”

Harry pouts as Y/N pulls away from him, his arms still outreached and trailing after her. “It is a thing!”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N walks over to Jo, wrapping her arms around the girl tightly as the crisp morning air sends a shiver down her spine. “Congratulations, Jo.  Have fun on your honeymoon.”

Although Jo hugs her back with a smile, there’s something lingering under the sweet expression. “Thank you.” She speaks in her normal tone, but waits until her lips are right by Y/N’s ear to lower her voice. “The moment you arrive back in L.A., I expect a three hour phone call explaining how all of this happened.  Is that understood?”

“You’re so demanding. I would have thought you’d be more mature now that you’re married.” Y/N laughs as she pulls out of the hug, turning to Laure and giving her a tight squeeze before walking to the car.  She leans against the cool metal of the passenger side as Harry rounds around to the driver’s side, having said his goodbyes right after she did.

“I’m serious!  The last time we talked about Harry, you threatened to cut off his—”

Laure takes Jo’s hand, squeezing it hard as she bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, darling, that’s enough.  Just be thankful they’re not arguing anymore, yeah?  Maybe we’ll finally be able to have a wine night that doesn’t end with someone flipping a charcuterie board.”

The memory of Laure and Jo’s four year anniversary party brings a sheepish smile to Y/N’s face, and she watches as the realization hits Jo, who gives a satisfied nod to Laure before the latter presses her lips to her cheek.

Harry, however, is less amused, and shoots a questioning glance at Y/N over the hood of the car. “Wait, when did you threaten to cut something of mine off?”

“Oh, it was just a joke, Harry.” Y/N waves off his concern as she opens the passenger door with a click. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, as long as you don’t piss me off too much.”

“Right.” Harry says slowly, climbing inside the car as Y/N does the same.  “I’ll do my best.”

Harry starts the car with an easy and practiced motion, shifting it into reverse and pulling away from the mountainside resort as the two of them give one last wave to Jo and Laure through the passenger window.  Once they’re back on the winding mountain road, Y/N grabs Harry’s phone from its usual spot in his cup holder, scrolling through his music library with interest.

“What do you feel like listening to?” She asks curiously, her eyes scanning over the now familiar titles indecisively. “Something fast?  Something mellow?”

Harry shifts the car into second gear before grabbing Y/N’s free hand, brushing his pink lips over the back of her knuckles in a gentle motion. “I don’t really care.” He says with a shrug, winding his fingers through her own before lowering their hands between their seats. “Anything you want.”

The comment of free reign causes Y/N’s eyes to widen in disbelief. “Really?” She asks incredulously, and when Harry gives a confirming nod, she quickly settles on “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” leaning back in her seat as the familiar guitar riff fills the car.

From the corner of her eye, she watches Harry’s nose wrinkle as his eyebrows crease beneath his sunglasses. “Actually, I changed my mind.” He says lowly, swiping his thumb over her knuckles in a motion of apology. “Not this song.”

Y/N lets out a groan as she presses her head back into the head rest. “For fuck’s sake, H—”

“I’m not feeling it! It just doesn’t suit this time of day, or this scenery—”

“We have forty-two hours left in this trip, and you’re already pissing me off.  Do you want something to get cut off?” Yanking her hand from his own, she grabs his phone again and opens it with a harsh sigh. “Okay, what do you want to listen to?”

“I told you.” Harry taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he risks a glance at her, gauging if the irritation in her voice matches the irritation on her face. “Whatever you want to listen to.”

Y/N allows herself a quiet snort, but makes no other comment on the contradictory statement. “Fine.” She says shortly, scrolling through his songs for another moment before clicking on “Strangers”. “How’s that?”

Harry raises his now empty hand defensively before finding her own again, squeezing it gently. “Good, love.  It’s good.”

“Good.” Y/N gives a short sigh of relief, settling back into her seat again as a new guitar riff begins to sound through the car speakers.

The first verse of the song has barely finished when Harry clears his throat thickly, the corner of his lip just barely twitching up. “You know, actually—”

“Stop the car.”

[showtoonzfan]

I know this is a criticism that almost EVERYONE has said by now, but man, neon was NOT the correct color keys to use for Alastor’s song.

Who knows, maybe people weren’t bothered by it, because I certainly have seen many fans draw fanart of his neon version and say his song sequence was amazing, and I will admit, this isn’t necessarily.....a HUGE issue, it’s one of the smaller critiques, but I will say it’s an important one because it is just HILARIOUS how the mark was missed here. It’s clear Viv loves neon, as it’s showcased in Helluva Boss as well, and of course, I have nothing against neon either, and I will admit this isn’t bad to look at, the blue colors are nice to see after so much damn RED from this pilot, but it’s just....not the right character for this pick. I know people have heard this so many times, but I feel like the other reason Viv used neon was simply because Dr. Facilier from “The Princess And The Frog” used it in HIS musical number as well. I think we all know that Alastor is a rip off O-OH I mean “INSPIRED” by Dr. Facilier, and it shows as they’re both from Louisiana, both associate with Voodoo, both make deals ect. I don’t mind Viv taking “inspiration”, but just because you love neon so much doesn’t mean you need to use it all the time, ESPECIALLY with a character from a time period where COLOR IN FILM DIDN’T EVEN EXIST YET.

So yeah surprise surprise, if viv wanted to do this old timey musical number, black and white would have fit, or even these old vintage colors:

This color filter was also used in old film at that time. It would have been so cool if Alastor had this old timey song with the scratchy film filter over as he sang and danced but.....nah let’s go with neon.

Also if I’m going to critique Al’s song in general, or at least the VISUALS, when I first saw the shot of Charlie and Al holding hands and wearing 1920’s clothing during Daria Cohen’s animation stream (because she was one of the people who did animation for the pilot) I thought that during Alastor’s song, we would be taken to a bunch of different locations, like maybe we’d see a city with flashing lights, maybe in a beach area, on a ferry boat, something like that where the backgrounds changed from location here and there, I thought it would have been interesting and visually striking, but instead we’re kinda just.......stuck in the hotel. Now to be fair the song ITSELF is about the hotel, but what we’re given visually isn’t really anything that special. Maybe it would have been grander if they showed Al and Charlie get pictures taken of them, and demons cheering and lining up to see the hotel. Then he could show the other sinners the life of luxury, like Husk at a casino, Angel on a stage, basically just eye catching various locations similar to how Charlie’s song was visually, BUT that’s just me.

But yeah, putting THAT aside, not ganna lie, his song wasn’t needed even if I wanted to see this big musical number with him. For one it’s short as heck, and two it’s kinda just there to have more pretty animation so we can see him sing. I’ve seen some people say it would have been better if Alastor sang Charlie the song to win her over, because in the actual thing he already DID win her over so it’s honestly pointless and yeah I agree. Maybe instead they could have had Charlie hesitant on letting him help, so he sings this big song explaining what HE would do and how the hotel would be if he joined. That would have been better, but instead he just sings......because he’s Al and Viv WANTED to have him sing. In fact, I don’t know if anyone knew this, but in a livestream (don’t ask me to find it because I have no idea which one) Viv confirmed that Alastor originally never HAD a song, she only did it because her friends really wanted to see him sing so......yeah. But ehh, what we got wasn’t bad at all,it just wasn’t needed really, and if you did want Al to sing, I’d much rather have it the way I explained lol.

[glimmerglanger]

Dessert Options

So, listen, I know I should have used my extra writing time towards my codywan bb fic, but I needed a little break, and I saw that picture with the 212th gold popsicle, and I am feeling overheated because it’s still extremely hot here and, anyway, I wrote this, instead.

This little snippet is Pre-Codywan, full of flirting and popsicles. Set at some random point during the Clone Wars. It’s safe for wizards (and work), but Cody sure wishes it weren’t. Mildly spicy, because Obi-Wan is being a tease.

~~~~~~~

Cody wasn’t sure who, exactly, was to blame for the current situation.

He allocated some of the responsibility to Misfire, who had, in fact, discovered the cause of Cody’s current woes, bringing back the first of the frozen treats from a vendor further down the beach.

Most of them had never been to a beach before, luxuriating in the sand and the surf while they waited for their next orders to filter down through the GAR. Cody knew oceans, he’d grown up surrounded by raging, dark water.

Kamino was nothing like Aldrell, with its pale purple water and pure white sand and, apparently, frozen foods.

Misfire had gushed about how delicious the treat - roughly the size of his hand and shaped, well, in a rather pointed way - was, devouring the entire thing in moments. That had been enough to send a dozen other troopers hurrying off.

Cody allocated some more of the fault for the situation to Bones, who had brought back one of the treats for Obi-Wan - sitting against a large tree on the beach, both tunics off and sweating through his undershirt - and said he should eat it to cool down.

It was funny, how Cody’s temperature had only gone up, watching Obi-Wan smile and take the violently blue treat, sliding the tip between his lips and--

Well.

Sucking.

He’d wished desperately for his armor, but he’d stripped down to his blacks along with most everyone else, the better to play in the water. He’d felt stuck between, well, a rock and a hard place, knowing he could run down to the chilled water and plunge in while, at the same time, knowing that no one else was going to follow him if he did.

The entirety of Ghost Company had, abruptly, decided that the sight of their commanding officer enjoying a frozen treat was better than splashing in the waves, digging for shells, or building structures with the sand.

Cody couldn’t even disagree with them, trying to pretend he hadn’t watched Obi-Wan’s lips turn bluish, stained by the treat, or the little trail of 501st blue that melted down his hand and over his wrist, towards the soft skin on the inside of his forearm and--

The final portion of the blame Cody put solely at Mav’s feet. He’d been the one to trot off down to the dessert vendor again, coming back with a smug little smile and another “popsicle,” this one unmistakably the same color as the paint on their armor.

“Here, General,” he’d said, offering it out, “found this one special for you.”

And Cody had - briefly - considered throwing a handful of sand at the popsicle in a primitive kind of self-defense, almost seeing the shape of the torment to come. But he’d hesitated, and in that split second, Obi-Wan had laughed - eyes crinkling - reached out, and taken the treat with a fond little, “Thank you very much, it looks delicious.”

Which brought them all crashing to the present moment.

Cody stared. He knew he ought to stop, but couldn’t seem to do anything to about it as Obi-Wan brought the popsicle to his lips and just--slid the tip into his mouth, the radiant heat melting the edges of the popsicle and oh - Cody shouldn’t have wanted anything hot, not with the temperatures soaring around them, but….

“Mm,” Obi-Wan said, reclining back against the tree, drawing the popsicle out and swallowing, Cody’s gaze drawn helplessly to the way his throat moved, the way he swiped his tongue out across his lower lip, the drip of sugary sweet fluid moving down the side of the popsicle--

“What do you think?” Mav asked, putting one hand against the tree and leaning against it, Obi-Wan’s head at hip level with him, something that, abruptly, made Cody’s hands twitch, knuckles getting itchy.

“It’s very good,” Obi-Wan said, grinning up, sliding the popsicle halfway in his mouth, sucking enough to hollow his cheeks, Prime’s wrinkled kriffing balls--

“Better than the other kind?” Crys asked, getting in on the action and shifting a little closer, abandoning the model of the cruiser he’d been building in the sand. 

“Much,” Obi-Wan said, twirling the stick absently, nibbling at the tip, and Cody felt sweat roll down his spine, his pulse burning in his veins. 

He said, not thinking, unable to catch the words back, “You like the taste?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze slid his way, his eyes bright with some kind of merriment, mouth twitching up in the corners when he gave it another suck and said, afterwards, “Oh, yes, I think it’s my favorite flavor.”

And then, grinning wider, he slid it halfway in his mouth and bit down.

Cody heard someone behind him whimper, doing his best to bury a wince of his own as Obi-Wan swallowed and asked, tilting his head to the side, “Do you think they have anymore?”

[gojology]

— Gojo and Nanami | Their Insecurities

pairing : insecure gojo x gender neutral reader, insecure nanami x gender neutral reader warnings : unedited, probably some misspellings, maybe some cursing, i probably dont make sense at all wordcount : 1703 a/n : this is so bad dear god please forgive me for deeming this as content

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Gojo’s insecure about his lack of bodyhair. His lack of facial hair and arm hair worries him. Being babyfaced wasn’t something positive in his eyes- no, he wishes he was physically more masculine.

   Your eyes meet his, the sun rays bathing both of you in an orange filtered light. His mouth is slightly opened, skin flush to the touch. After a night of intimacy, your ready for another round, pushing your palm towards his forehead. “Good morning, Satoru.” you say, voice slightly wavering even in the most private presence, without the formalities and what not, he’s surprisingly normal, and it’s taken you a bit to adjust to that. He’s warm, but it’s the good kind of warm, and it shows on his silly, dopey smile.

    You guess it wasn’t the time for more sex, so you resist your urges, directing the energy to something else.

    Gradually, your palms find themselves on his cheeks, and you pinch them slightly, giving him a look you hope is loving- because you really do mean it. Your rest assured, as the curve to his swollen lips grew even wider. The sounds of bird chirped as your fingers danced across his jawline, finally at your final stop, his chin. 

    You tip his chin up, and sure enough, hickeys are adorning his neck. A feeling of joy and honor fills you for a brief second, you were the one that was allowed to see him vulnerable, given the pass into his locked up heart. He finally breaks the silence between the two of you, pushing away your slack hand delicately. 

    It’s peculiar, there’s a tremble to his lips, like he’s scared, or about to burst into a fit of tears. You think it should be the other way around, but here you were, arms held close to your chest, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, bated breath preventing you from questioning the sudden change in tone. 

    “Hey, um, Y/N, weird ass question, but, am I hairy? Like, wooly mammoth hairy?” 

    You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or not.

    Trying not to make a face, you shrug your shoulders. “Well, I mean, not really. You’re actually pretty nonhairy, in terms of uh... The average-” you pause, realizing how drastically his face fell. “-But I do like non-hairy guys! Who would wanna date a wooly mammoth anyways? Hey, baby..” you coo, giving him a tiny peck on the cheek, fluttering your eyelashes.     “What’s this about? Hey, you know, you can just be straightforward with me, I don’t mind.” 

    He doesn’t take a moment of hesitation, exasperatedly blurting out, “Does my lack of.. Hair, bother you?” but it seems he regrets it, your cheeks puffing up, stifling a giggle. Yet, he maintains the bone-chilling eye contact, his eyes are as vivid as ever, so blue it looked like the entrance to heaven. Your immediately lulled, whatever he was going to say was definitely urgent.

    “W-What? Are you being serious?” covering your mouth, your voice is muffled, but his face looks absolutely terrified, and you relish in how funny he looked. It wasn’t everyday that he was genuinely frightened, well, maybe he didn’t show it often.    “Of course not! Why would I be even remotely worried about bodyhair when I have something way more eye-catching in front of me?”

    The shock turns into a sheepish smile, returning for a second time, your heart melting instantly. He takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the tension away, tugging at the covers to go over his chest. You hadn’t realized that he had stolen more than half of the blanket for himself, but you don’t make a fuss about it. 

    For all the weight he carried on his sagging shoulders, you’re sure the warmth is appreciated. 

NANAMI KENTO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Nanami thinks he’s a boring person, through and through. Outside of work, he doesn’t see why anyone would want him. Some days, he wonders if he should pick up on Gojo’s personality, telling jokes and being sarcastic and what not.

   The fine, white porcelain Nanami had gifted you was beautiful, to say the least. Nanami frequently shone it until it glimmered in the light, wiping any smudge or speck of dirt that dared to get on his beloved tea set that he gifted to you a few months prior. Gold trim, alongside depictions of birds fluttering about, and your favorite flowers. It’s perfect for you, and that’s why he had gotten it. His eyes had instantly brightened, picturing your beaming face as you served the two of you some tea.

   But he wonders, would you be happier if he perhaps gifted you something more up to date in comparison to the porcelain? He had enough money to buy you the world, bags, jewelry, he’d often used to hear stories of his co-workers giving their wives expensive, well, anything, and they’d be over the moon. A sudden realization grew inside of him at the thought of this:    

   Was he too out-of-date?    

   The thought went rampant in his usually collected mind, twisting and turning at night, only the sound of you, deep in sleep, could calm the troubled man down. As a consequence to his overthinking, he got little to no rest, and if he got little to no rest, his eyebags would turn their ugly, sneering faces in his direction.

     And so, as he’s baking tea cakes to go along with the afternoon tea the two of you would routinely drink, he’s going deep into depth of himself. He’s a good worker, good at...

     What was he good at? Aside from work, he can’t see why he’d be of use. Nanami acknowledges he’s stoic, which may be good in some cases, but often, everyone runs away from him because he appears as scary with those cold, calculating eyes. As opposed to Gojo, everyone enjoyed how lenient of a teacher he was. Well, Nanami isn’t sure on that, maybe aside from Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji, everyone hated that. Regardless, him and Gojo don’t share something in common.

     Gojo has humor, and he doesn’t. 

     So why did you like him? 

     Nanami’s subconsciously drumming his long, bony fingers against the counter, eyes studying the ceiling like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Steadily, an acrid smell completely overwhelmed your senses- now, you’re hacking into your arm, and finally, Nanami comes back to Earth. 

     He blinks a few times, like he’s drinking in his surroundings, before he realizes the tea cakes are completely burning into a crisp.

Now, he’s on heightened alert, yanking open the handle to the oven and fanning out the flames with a random oven mitt he had hastily grabbed for. Beads of sweat are developing on his skin, before finally, you rush in, still hacking up a storm with a large pot of freezing water in your shaking hands.

     Nanami curses himself for ever appearing as informal, but then he remembers he’s infront of his significant other, he didn’t have to put on an act. His face relaxes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he’s paused- by you. You raise your palm up at him, the other hand opening up a window looking over the garden.

      “Nana.” he freezes completely, the affectionate nickname was specially reserved for confrontations like this. You spoke softly, which, for some reason, was significantly worse than you screaming into his ear. Your eyes follow suit, staring at his collar, loosening his tie. He winces, but Nanami’s not sure why he does. You had touched him millions of times, so why was it now that he didn’t accept it?

     “Yes, my love?” he finally breathes out, wrapping a strong, gentle arm around your waist just loosely. You place your thumb just below his lower lip, your index finger rubbing his plush lips all at the same time. The exchange is purely affectionate, yet, he’s still tense. 

    “What has gotten into you?” you murmur. 

    “I- Nothing, darling, I’ll bake another-” 

    “No.” is all you say before you grab him by the chin, unwavering. Usually, those piercing eyes of his are emotionless, something shocking. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so why is it that it’s blocked off? But you guess it wasn’t the case here, he stared back with the same level of intensity, fear and peculiarity. You stay in that position for a little, savoring just how much you must mean to him, it wasn’t everyday he was vulnerable and let you inside.      Your breathing is heavy, eyelids heavy as well due to his routinely ruckus every night, but you’re determined to erase any trace there was left of that.       You kiss him. It’s sloppy, yet chaste. A fight for dominance usually occurs between the two of you, and almost routinely, Nanami wins, but this time, he lets you do the work. 

   Your lips never once trail away from his own. Heavy breathing through nostrils, hands roaming where it shouldn’t at such an early time, but who gave a fuck about the rules? It wasn’t a workplace, and you’d never let it be one. He clings onto your figure, you savor his muscular physique. Not once do his hands not roam, your flesh was his, and his was yours. 

    Finally, you pull away, heat rising to your cheeks, tears are beginning to dawn on your glassy eyes. “I’ve listened to you roll around in bed every night, mumbling shit about how you don’t see why I’d want you. You better donate your eyes and brain to charity right now.” 

   This wasn’t the reaction, or beatdown he was expecting. He flinches at the vivid image he got of you gouging out his eyeballs. “...Why must I do that? 

   “Because, you don’t use them, obviously. If you took a fucking second of your life to look deeper into your personality below the surface level, you’d see how fucking amazing you are and I love you for that.” 

   Shaking your head furiously, you shush him up yet again when he finally decides to speak up, tears are beginning to spill down your cheeks. “Shut up, Nana. Shut. Up.” pulling him in for another kiss, your hands grabbing at his shoulder like he was going to let go. 

   But he never did. 

[zafirosreverie]

Must be the eyes (Teacher!Agatha x Fem!Student!Reader) part  8

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

a/n: Does anyone still read this? I’m sorry for not posting in days, but here it is! I hope you enjoy it!

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Wanda smiled and rolled her eyes fondly as she read the message that Agatha had sent.

"Y/N 's sick. I'll stay to take care of her. It's your turn to take care of the girls."

The redhead knew exactly what that meant. She knew you weren't sick at all, but it was the last day in Salem and her friend just wanted to spend it with you. If she was honest with herself, she had been quite surprised when Agatha told her about her...she wasn't really sure if you were dating or not, but at least she knew there were kisses and sex.

Either way, she was happy for you (even though it had been embarrassing to go to reception and say that they weren't going to change rooms after all) and had been covering you for the past two weeks.

"Okay, tell Miss Y/L/N that I hope she feels better soon"

______________

Agatha giggled lightly and made a mental note to buy the red-haired woman dinner, before throwing her phone on the nightstand. Wanda had been a great help in these two weeks and the brunette was completely grateful for it.

You grunted a little and rolled over on the bed, unconsciously pressing yourself against the older woman's chest. Agatha smiled and kissed your head, stroking your back.

This was something completely different from what you had done so far. Not the sex, that was still as wild as the first day. But this, waking up with you in her arms and allowing herself to contemplate you as the daylight filtered through the curtains. That was new.

You guys had made a pact (well actually, she had made all the rules ... but you had nodded, which meant you were in complete agreement ... right?) That you could only use the nights for yourselves.

So when morning came, she would get up quickly and go to bathe. By the time she came out, you were already waking up, so she just left you in the room alone, so you could get ready.

She didn't talk to you all day and she rarely came near you. There was no need, after all. You were hers.

She couldn't explain the wave of relief that washed over her. Knowing that you belonged to her, that everything you put on, what you did, was for her, it was a great liberation. She no longer had to torture herself by thinking you were someone else’s.

The only thing that hadn't changed was that her eyes were constantly on you. She watched every step you took, every time you sat down (she didn't want you to show too much, ok? Those legs were hers), but especially, she watched every interaction you had with Nicholas Jadu.

You had told her that she had nothing to worry about, that you were just friends. And of course she believed you, she trusted you. Just...not him.

But either way, she didn't have to worry about it. Not today. Today you would be in bed all day and she would enjoy her last day with you to the fullest.

Yes, maybe she should have asked you first before reporting you sick ... but she was sure you would agree.

You always did.

_____________

You stretched out a bit before you started rubbing your eyes. You were feeling a bit tired, but it was nothing new to you. In recent days, waking up exhausted, with weak legs, sore arms, and hickeys all over the body, was common.

You sighed quietly before you rolled. Or well, try to roll. You frowned when your back hit something, and you felt a grip on your hip. You opened your eyes and found your head buried in Agatha's chest.

Okay- This...this wasn’t common.

She never woke up next to you. She always slipped away before the sun finished rising and she left you in the room, by yourself. She said it was to be safe, to avoid raising suspicions. Too bad that meant that the brunette could never see your disappointed face, nor the trembling of your legs, which was not from the activities of the night before, but from fear.

Fear of stepping into a trap. Fear of recognizing in those blue eyes that you loved so much, the shadow of those green ones that hurted you so much.

"She's not like that" you thought, trying to reassure yourself. But it all felt too much the same.

_________________

Agatha frowned slightly when she saw you lost in thought. She didn't want to intrude, but she couldn't help but worry, either. Maybe you were really sick?

"Y/N?" she asked softly, making you jump slightly "everything fine  in that little head of yours?"

"Y-yes" you mumbled "just...I was finishing waking up" you lied

The brunette didn't seem to believe you, but she decided not to pressure you, so she just nodded and kissed your head. You sighed a little and felt your cheeks blush. You liked being like this, calm in her arms. But something was still wrong ...

"Aggs ..." you whispered

The woman smiled a little, she loved when you called her that. "Yes, my love?"

"...why are you here?" you asked carefully.

Agatha frowned and looked at you for a moment, somewhat confused. You didn't want her to be there? Weren't you glad to wake up with her? But then a pang of guilt attacked her.

Of course you would be confused! She never woke up next to you. She cursed herself for a moment, before looking at you again and giving you a smile that she hoped was reassuring.

"It's our last day" she told you "I wanted to be with you" she admitted, stroking your cheek.

You blushed a little more and looked away from her, making her laugh a little. She kissed you on the temple again, before taking your chin and lifting your face a little so she could kiss you on the lips.

"We'll be late" you murmured against her mouth "Surely they are already waiting for us"

Agatha smiled at you and shook her head slightly.

"I ... I told Wanda you were sick" she said, a little embarrassed "I know I should have asked you first, but-"

"It’s okay" you interrupted her.

Yes, it would have been nice if she woke you up to ask you before doing it, but you were grateful and a little touched by the gesture. She had put her job aside to be with you, after all.

"We can always say that you felt better" she told you "If at any time you want to go out, we will simply say that you already feel good"

You smiled and let her kiss you again. Unlike the heated kisses she gave you at night, before throwing you on the bed, this kiss was calm, slow, and loving. Her hand on your waist didn't make you feel excited, but it did make you feel loved and protected.

You liked this Agatha Harkness. The one who took care of you, who made you feel special and loved. The one who simply wanted to be with you because she could, not to satisfy some need.

"Do you want breakfast?" she asked after a while of kissing you "I can go down to buy something"

"Well ... I wouldn't say no to some pancakes" you said, smiling shyly.

"Pancakes will be then" she replied.

The brunette leaned over you again and kissed you deeply one last time, before getting up and changing to go out

_______________

Agatha was careful when she went down to the hotel’s restaurant and ordered breakfast. It wasn't that she was afraid that some student would see her or that they would start asking questions, she had an alibi ready. But she preferred not to be withholding more than necessary. She wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.

The woman knew she hadn't been entirely fair to you in recent weeks. But she hadn't known what else to do. She wanted to be with you, she wanted to hold your hand as you walked, hug you, take care of you. But she couldn't risk doing it in public, and by the time the night came, she needed you so badly that she just blurted out, taking what she wanted from you.

No, it wasn't a good excuse, and she knew it. But she was hoping she could make it up to you a little today.

_______________

"Pancakes and a couple of flowers" you said, smiling when the brunette offered you a small bouquet of violets that you recognized as one of the ones sold outside the hotel. "Either there is bad news or someone is trying to get on my good side" you joked, but you couldn't help your heart flutter. It was a nice touch of her part.

"A bit of both" admitted the woman.

You frowned a bit, watching her as she carelessly tossed her purse onto the dresser and kicked off her shoes. Agatha smiled at you as she climbed on top of you on the bed and kissed you again. Okay, there had been a lot of kisses today and it was barely 10, what was going on?

"There's bad news because it's our last day" she said "And I'm trying to get on your good side because I don't want anything to change between us when we get back" she said

"A little late for that, don’t you think?" you said

"Touché" she laughed lightly, getting off you and sitting next to you "Well, I don't want things to change too much between us" she said

"Well I'm sure my classmates will still make me sit in the front row as a totem to calm the storm" you joked

Agatha laughed heartily at this and seeing her so free and open was a beautiful sight.

"I'm glad to hear that" she said, kissing your cheek "I miss our little arguments" she admitted

"Me too" you said

"And we still have a pending debate" she said "Don't think we finished with Medusa"

Now you laughed heartily and shook your head. You were more than ready for that debate.

The brunette leaned on your shoulder as you finished your breakfast, leaving a trail of lazy kisses on your neck. One of her hands pulled a lock of hair from your face and caressed your cheek, while she wrapped her other arm around you.

You were confused at how different she was acting, but this...yeah, this felt good.

___________

You sighed when you got off the bus.

It all felt so surreal, like you had just woken up from a dream (or a two week coma). You just felt different. You weren't the same girl you had been before Salem.

Your classmates came and went with their suitcases, some talking, others laughing, others too tired. You watched Nick kiss Dalton goodbye on the cheek and you smiled. At least one of you could continue your love story.

You discreetly looked in the direction of the teachers and were not surprised to find a pair of blue eyes staring at you.

Neither of you moved. You didn’t smile, didn’t greet each other, didn’t walk towards each other. Nothing. You just looked at each other and you felt your chest tighten a bit. You knew it was a goodbye.

Your time was up.

But it was okay. The universe had given you almost two weeks with this woman. Yes, maybe there were things you didn't like (that terrified you, actually), like her jealousy and possessiveness. But there were also things that you would keep in your memory forever, like her kisses, her arms drawing you to her to sleep, the way she caressed your cheek or the way she made you feel pretty.

Also, you held in your arms the reminder of what you had shared with her.

Agatha looked at you as you sighed again and grabbed your suitcase, walking towards Nicholas's car. She would have offered to drive you home, but she had to stay until each and every student was gone and she didn't want to have you there waiting.

Besides, she knew that she would only be delaying the inevitable. The deadline was up and you had to go back to being just teacher and student.

However, when she saw you get into the car with little Aggie in your arms, she smiled to herself. All the way back, the doll had been sitting between the two of you, serving as a shield so that no one else could see that your hands were intertwined.

She had to admit that she had been flattered and touched when the doll's name escaped from your mouth. You had turned red and she had giggled, but she had told you that it was a nice name. You had smiled at her and, taking care that no one saw, you had given her a quick kiss.

Damn. She was going to miss you.

Well, at least her mini-me would be safe in your arms. Lucky doll.

"Harkness, a little help around here" Wanda called her. Agatha sighed and gave you one last look before turning and walking to the redhead. She didn't notice the sad smile you gave her.

________________

You sighed in relief when you finally got into bed later that night. Finally you began to feel all the weight and fatigue of the trip.

Also ... you didn't want to think about how huge and cold your bed felt, or the presence that was missing next to you. You told yourself it was part of the deal, that this was agreed upon.

You didn't want to, but you tried to remember the bad things. The times she scolded you out of jealousy, how she subtly tried to control you. All of that. You needed to convince yourself that it was just an affair and that was all. That you shouldn't want more.

But then you remembered the good things too. And of course, your heart, ignoring your brain, decided that that was more than enough to forgive the other.

"Damn woman" you muttered "Did she have to stay so buried in my head?"

You rolled onto your side and looked at the doll on your nightstand. You felt a warmth in your chest, similar to the one you felt the day you opened the gift on your bed.

You jumped a bit when your cell phone vibrated and the screen lit up with a new message. Frowning at the time, you took it. Your heart stopped for a moment and you couldn't help but smile like an idiot when you opened it.

From: Ms Harkness

Miss you.

I know I'm breaking the agreement, but I needed you to know.

Damn this woman and the way she controls you. It seems that you would fall under her spell again and see her in your dreams.

From: You

I miss you too

Wish you were here.

From: Ms. Harkness

I wish I was there too.

I don't know if I can fulfill the agreement, Y/N. It's only been a few hours and I already need you.

From: You

In a good way, I hope?

From: Agatha

In all ways ;)

You laughed a bit at that and cursed her again.

From: Agatha

It's late, I should let you sleep.

see you tomorrow.

From: you

I don't know if I can sleep. But okay.

See you tomorrow.

From: Agatha

Good night.

I love you

Your heart jumped a bit and you felt butterflies in your stomach at the last message.

From: you

Love you too.

You turned off the cell phone and left it next to the doll, again in her spell then.

"You're right little Aggie" you smiled "it must be the eyes". 

Alerts kept going on in your head, telling you, begging you, not to fall, to remember how much she scared you when she demanded that you stop spending time with Nick. But your heart was telling you that she really loved you, that you should give her a chance to prove it.

Agatha Harkness and her way of confusing you. She did things that just made you forget her mistakes. You just hoped you weren't committing a bigger one.

- - - - - - - - - - 

Tags:  @midnight-lestrange @amethyst-bitch @juliejules-089 @novohyde @annie-mit-ie @shinkomiii @agentbrownierso @swanqueensupercorp @philippaharkness @rainbow-hedgehog @parkerprolly @booklovinbi @bloodyfool @marvelseverything @superpearlnerd @rooskaya-yelena @danvers97 @notsosecretlyalesbian @thoroughly--confused @tomy5girls @celasteria @teenwonder @paulawand @fallingfor-fics @an-evergreen-rose @enbyjareau @mochiadria​ @sarahp-stan​ @p-nymph

[samwilsonshandsandass]

Five Times Sam Kissed You First And One Time You Kissed Him First

Pairing: Sam Wilson x reader Summary: The five times Sam kissed you first and the one time you kissed Sam first Warnings: none, just get your dentists this is pure fluff Word count: 1397

The First Time Sam Kissed You First…

The party, organized by the usual suspects, was supposed to be held outside on the lawn of the Avengers Compound. Sam had moved back into his former quarters there for training new people and building up new initiatives for special special missions. With two job interviews you had lined up in the area, you joined Sam and were promptly roped into attending the party as well.

Now, you sat in front of a mirror on Sam’s desk. When you had asked why there suddenly was a mirror on his standard issue desk, Sam had looked at you as if he couldn’t figure out why you would even ask that. You unscrewed your lipstick and applied the first layer.

Sam, looking even more splendid than usual in his dark blue suit, came up behind you. He bent down and kissed you. It started as a soft kiss but Sam wasn’t a man to do things half assed. He cradled your head in his hands as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

When you came up for air, you chuckled. “There goes the first layer of lipstick. Straight onto your lips.”

“Then so be it.”

… The Second Time Sam Kissed You First…

You stood in the kitchen, shelling peas. Through the open windows, the sounds of rustling trees and of the sea wafted in. Cass and AJ worked through the mountain of sweet potatoes and Bucky had his difficulties with the seafood. He hadn’t moved too long ago, so he was still learning.

AJ complained about the amount of homework he had gotten from his history teacher. “He wants us to write about life in the 30s! But how are we expected to do that, when our book just tells us about dates and who was voted into which position when? That’s not ‘life’!”

“Life in the 30s, you say?” Bucky perked up.

Sam came into the kitchen. “Buck’s flexing how old he is again?”

“If it helps, Sam… And you still didn’t show me the Lord Of The Rings movies. Still!”

Sam stood next to you and kissed you gently on the lips. “Sorry for rushing out like this, need to get back to the boat.”

“Just come back in time to eat. You hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

… The Third Time Sam Kissed You First…

In one week, Cass would celebrate his birthday. Today, Bucky did something with AJ out of town, Cass had a school trip and Sarah had an appointment in town. So you and Sam were on grocery shopping duty.

“All right. We need ingredients for the pies, the cakes, some meat, a few vegetables, sweets and seafood-“ You listed off what everyone of the Wilsons’, you and the new step dad Bucky, had written down over the last days.

“You’re not suggesting we of all families buy seafood.”

“Right. Forgot that for a second.”

“Forgot? How can you forget that? And who you’re married to?” Sam had the tone of voice of mock betrayal down to a T.

You squeezed his hands. “So, I get started on the pie and cake things and then we’ll meet at the sweets, after you get the other things?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You parted ways, each with a cart. You were quicker than Sam and now stood in the sweets aisle, debating what you should get or not. Especially for yourself. From the corner of your eye you saw the other customers; one looked very much like Sam. You turned your head. It wasn’t.

“Other side, love.”

You turned your head the other side and saw a grinning Sam. Before you could do anything, he kissed you sweetly.

“Which kinds do you think we should get?” You held up several kinds of gummy bears.

… The Fourth Time Sam Kissed You First…

The sunlight was too… sunny. Bright. Early. You groaned. Smiling at the memories that resurfaced with the pleasant ache in your muscles, you rolled out of bed. The sun that filtered in through the blinds at least warmed your body.

You fumbled blindly around the bath, still too tired to make the effort to look closely at everything you saw each morning and evening. You reached for your toothbrush and squeezed toothpaste on it. The door opened and you smiled tiredly at Sam. He smiled back and reached for his own toothbrush.

Sam moved closer to you and put his head between your toothbrush and your mouth. He pecked your lips. He stroked your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth. When you did, Sam sucked your tongue into his own mouth and gripped your head.

You came up for air. “Sam, I still have morning breath…”

“I care about a great many things but morning breath is not one of them” Sam mumbled, only inches from your lips and never loosening his grip on your head.

… The Fifth Time Sam Kissed You First…

It was a normal humid day in Delacroix. Sam was home and after breakfast you now prepared to drive into New Orleans to an animal shelter. For weeks now, Sam and you had talked about getting a dog and when you had thought about everything you needed to do, pay attention to and whatnot, you looked through the adoption process and set about making your life dog-friendly.

At the shelter, you and Sam were shown to the dog kernels. The person you had already talked on the phone stayed with you for a bit to show you the dogs you had shown interest in and then left. She had told you she’d pay attention to how you behaved with each of the dogs from afar.

The first dog she brought out was a female Golden Retriever. One of her eyes was milky but still, she walked quickly to you. She took her time to smell you, before she gave you a small lick. She turned to Sam and after smelling him as well, she boxed him with her nose.

“I think you’re supposed to do something” You smiled at the dog and then Sam.

“Yeah? I’m supposed to do things?” Sam was already entirely smitten with her. You wouldn’t be able to get him out of the shelter without this dog by side. Not that you planned to.

The two of you played with her and petted her. You went on a small walk around the shelter to see how she behaved, but you both knew the decision to adopt her was basically made.

“So, what do you say? Wanna adopt her?” Sam grinned at you and the dog’s tail thumped against the floor.

“Yeah. I think this good girl wants us to take her home, doesn’t she?” You petted her softly.

The thump-thump-thump of the Labrador’s tail increased.

“Love you” Sam mumbled and pulled your face to his. He cradled you in his hands.

A wet snoot wedged itself between you and Sam.

“And you, too” He smiled down at her.

… And The One Time You Kissed Sam First.

Your body seemingly told you it didn’t need more sleep, despite it being five am. No nightmare woke you, no wet snoot from someone who wanted to go on a walk no matter the time, no sudden movement from Sam who would turn so quickly in his sleep he’d wake you up and then trap you in his bone crushing cuddles.

Turning your head, you looked at Sam. The sun didn’t yet rise so there was only the faintest of light playing on Sam’s features. His eyelids, relaxed and his eyes unmoving, his lips slightly parted. You leant over him and kissed his forehead. It creased and relaxed when you trailed your lips down his nose. Now, that scrunched up a little. You continued with his cheeks. You went down from his temples and didn’t leave a spot untouched from your lips.

Sam’s lips were now opened a little more and you kissed the corners of his mouth softly. You softly sucked on his bottom lips before you snaked your tongue into his mouth and cradled his face.

When you stopped kissing him, you heard his voice, raspy from sleep. “Why’d you stop?”

“Who said I was stopping?” You mumbled over his lips.

“He.”

“But I am pausing. There’s a morning run waiting for us” You smirked.

[jugoya]

Tonight’s surprise had been a team effort, and teamwork is a difficult thing to achieve for a group of delinquents who used to compete for leadership before getting beaten down into obedience. Even so, as all things concerning Izana, they had come together in cooperation to keep him busy for the entirety of the day while Ran enlisted Rindou’s help to sneak into Izana’s place while he was gone. It wouldn’t be their first time breaking into someone’s house, but they’d had the decency to use Kakucho’s spare key instead of knocking down the door today — but putting together the new aquarium tank Ran bought earlier that month had been another issue entirely. They had the brute strength to spare, but the tight schedule produced more errors than Ran would have liked, and by the time it was fully assembled, he had narrowly escaped death via giant broken glass shards at least three times. 

It was worth it, though. Ran knew admittedly very little about fish and about their care even less, but he’d done a good deal of reading online reviews to decide which tank to purchase. Throwing away money for Izana was no problem; he does it occasionally the moment he sees a jacket he thinks would suit him, or a necklace he believes would bring out the color of his eyes, but fashion is Ran’s expertise. Fish…are very much not. Izana’s are pretty, but they look more like accessories than pets to him, so it’s not like he can just buy them a toy for them to play fetch with. 

The old tank had been carefully moved to give place for the new one, which now is big enough to cover most of the wall. The stand supporting it had drawers to keep their food and the tools to clean it, but Ran’s favorite thing, of course, had been his very own personal touch: the decorations inside. Once the gravel and filters had been put in place, the ample new space had allowed for him to indulge in making things look beautiful. Among them were moss rocks, driftwood and ocean-floor grass for the natural look, bright pink and blue corals for the pop of color, a little gazebo for the fish to swim through — and a personal touch of an artificial orchid branch he’d secured down with a cheeky grin.

As they check the led lights aren’t too bright, Ran hears the rattling of the front door opening and immediately pushes Rindou into the kitchen to get dinner ready. Clearing his throat, he tries to appear as casual as possible leaning against the tank, running his fingers through his hair like he hadn’t spent hours today putting together an aquarium for the first time ever. 

“Welcome back, birthday boy,” he greets nonchalantly, even if his traitorous heart almost jumped out of his chest just moments prior. He is not nervous, he very rarely is...but he might be a little eager to see how his gift is received, and he keeps sneaking glances at Izana's face like a dog asking for a treat.

Izana had not known what to expect for his birthday. 

There was a time in his youth where he would tell everyone within earshot of his ‘special’ day , as if he could garner enough attention to transform it into a national holiday. He had since learned the birthday of a boy without family was just another day to the rest of the world. It was so that Izana rarely advertised it anymore. The only one who should have known was Kakucho , but it had caught the wind and spread like wildfire until all the Tenjiku’s Heavenly Kings and Executives were buzzing. How they managed to keep him in the dark about their plans were a little concerning , but for today... he’ll allow it.

He’s dragged to and fro , delivered from member to member , event to event  — and even Izana has to admit it’s fun. From Rindou’s live DJ battle to Shion’s overbearing chauffeur-ing , there’s little time to think , though he does briefly wonder when the older Haitani will make his presence known. He tries to squeeze it out of Rindou , but by the time he has a chance to the boy had already disappeared. 

When he finally escapes form Tenjiku , he makes his way back home. There is a slight annoyed tick in the back of his mind , but he squashes it quickly thinking it’s foolish to expect every member to celebrate with him ( even if he had been the one to give Ran a gift first , despite their first meeting being characterized by a promise of bludgeoning ) He’s not bitter or anything , and he’s certainly not brooding. Izana just thinks Ran is going to be rather bitter when he rubs in what a marvelous time he had with everyone else.

Oh , but he should have known. Haitani Ran never does things by halves , and he can never resist a display of showmanship. He sees the bright color of Rindou’s hair disappear in the kitchen , and what has transpired here is suddenly crystal clear. Before him is a beautiful rimless tank , decorated in a naturalistic fashion , yet still with a flair distinctly Ran. That is , a beauty that cannot be imitated. The artificial orchid branch does not escape his eyes , and he knows it’s as purposeful as the distractions littered throughout the day. 

His heart stutters a fond beat , and he brings his face closer to see it in its entirety , lips tilting upwards with sincerity. When he is at last content at taking in the new sight he directs his attention towards the man he knows had a key role in making all this possible.“ I believe Kakucho has given me a mont blanc to take home , care to share it with me ? ”

Reaching towards the heavenly king , Izana smooths the strands just ever so slightly out of place. Izana likes this look on his face , eager and nervous. Leaning in his whispers , “ This may have been a group effort , but when I see this , I’ll think only of you. Thank you , I love it. ”