#I don’t have the drive to really sit down and create characters and side characters

[opbackgrounds]

To be somewhat fair to OPLA, I don’t think the issues with the structural and story issues of the season can be entirely chalked up to “execs gonna exec.” A lot of it feels like it’s because the standard formula for live action television just feels fundamentally incompatible with the thing they were adapting. Live action tv’s comfort zone can be summed up as two people sitting in a room commenting on the plot, and then every 10-15 minutes the action (or “action” depending on the genre) happens. Which is a format that has made for some truly great, critically acclaimed television, but is fundamentally at odds with action-adventure/roadtrip format of One Piece. Between the inclusion of Garp and weird structural issues like characters randomly vanishing or plot points being immediately resolved/dropped, it feels like the live action adaptation is dragging its source material kicking and screaming into fitting that structure.

Season 1 was always going to be a little weird because they were going to have to make an overarching narrative where one did not initially exist in the manga. TV shows almost always utilize an A and a B plot story structure, so the marines were slotted into that B story arc role. This worked pretty good for Coby and Helmeppo, with the added bonus of them being able to adapt their cover story, but the Garp material was bad and the pacing of these scenes was also bad. However, I think it’s important to note that characters sitting around in an office set that can be reused for multiple episodes (or a set like Baratie that was already built) is cheaper than the island jumping the Straw Hats were doing. It was an efficient use of the budget for Garp to be the B plot, even if it mangled his character. This is and will continue to be something the live action will have to fight against for as long as it exists, so I would say get used to characters sitting around indoor sets talking. Otherwise an already ridiculously expensive series would just get exponentially more expensive.

TV shows also typically use mid season twists to help drive the narrative towards their second half, and as much as it pains me to say it, revealing Garp is Luffy’s grandpa early makes for a really good mid season twist. It recontextualizes everything that came before it and sets up a compelling drama for the episodes that come after. I’d have no problem with this, except, again, Garp was written really, really poorly.

The Alabasta saga has none of these problems. There is a natural marine B plot with Smoker and Tashigi that already exists in the manga with them spending a lot of time talking in offices (Crocodile also spends a lot of time hiding in an office so bonus points there, although if they are going to CGI some giant bananadiles that’d be expensive). There is an overarching narrative already written where one did not exist in the East Blue. And there is a compelling mid season twist in revealing Vivi is a princess. But by splitting the saga the live action is now going to have to come up with a narrative arc ending for the season where one does not exist in the manga, creating almost the opposite problem of season 1. Wapol as he is in the manga does not make for a compelling end of season villain like Arlong does, and I suspect that they’re going to turn Mr. 3 into that role instead just based on who they cast.

Now, while I think the live action did a good job capturing the Straw Hats, the blistering pace for season 1 meant that very few of the side characters that are so important to the manga got time to breathe, or really even exist (rip Gin), and slowing down the pace will help alleviate that flaw. The giants on Little Garden will have time to shine. Zoro vs 100 Baroque Works agents will have time to exist. The live action onlys will get it cry over a giant whale.

But dammit all, I want to have my cake and eat it too. Give me 10 episode seasons when the material calls for it, and give shorter sagas like Skypiea shorter seasons. Take the time to adapt the story that’s already there in the form that makes the most sense instead of Frankenstein’s Monstering one of the best selling comics of all time into the format a bunch of suits insist upon because of algorithm bullshit. Just let a good story be told well and the people will watch it, just as much as they watched season 1.

The sad thing is that season 1’s success proves to the suits with algorithms that 8 episodes is the way to go. If it had been less popular the solution would have been cancellation instead of fixing the pacing, and that’s why thinking too much about the state of modern TV depresses me.

[cre8inghavoc]

Can't help it...

Part 5

inumaki x f!reader

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

You drove around together for another fifteen minutes, the city lights becoming a blur as you got lost in the ride. Finally, he guided the bike to a stop at an outdoor parking garage, driving all the way to the roof. As you arrived, you noticed it was completely empty, the perfect quiet spot. But that wasn’t the reason he brought you here. As you dismounted the bike and looked out, you understood—he wanted to share with you the stunning panoramic view of the city, the skyline glittering like a sea of stars against the dark canvas of the night. It was a sight that took your breath away all over again.

You both took off your helmets, setting them down carefully on the bike before making your way to the ledge, where the roof extended just a bit, creating a safe spot to sit with the floor of the parking garage right beneath you. The cool night air brushed against your faces as you settled down, you sat side by side, legs dangling over the edge. With the city lights twinkling around you, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you, creating a moment that was as serene as it was unforgettable.

Minutes turned into hours as you found yourself completely engrossed in conversation with Inumaki. The words flowed effortlessly between you, each exchange filled with laughter, deep insights, and a growing sense of genuine connection. The city lights below seemed to dance in time with your dialogue, making the night feel almost magical.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve never been to an amusement park?” Inumaki asked, his eyes wide with disbelief as he leaned a bit closer, clearly amused by your confession.

“Nope, never had the chance,” you replied with a casual shrug, a smile tugging at your lips. “My family wasn’t really into that sort of thing. We were more about quiet weekends at home.”

Inumaki shook his head in mock disappointment. “That’s a tragedy. You have to experience the thrill of a roller coaster at least once. The rush, the fear, the way your stomach drops—it’s unforgettable.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest at his enthusiasm. “I don’t know if I’m brave enough for all that. Maybe the carousel is more my speed.”

“Carousel?” he repeated, pretending to be horrified. “No way. We’re going all out. I’m dragging you onto the biggest, scariest ride in the park. You’ll thank me later, I promise.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “I’ll consider it. But only if you don’t laugh at me when I scream my head off.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Deal. But I can’t promise I won’t be laughing on the inside.”

The conversation shifted seamlessly from amusement parks to childhood memories.

“Did you have any pets growing up?” he asked, his tone softening.

“Yeah, we had a golden retriever named Max. He was the sweetest dog ever. Always there when I needed a cuddle, especially after a bad day,” you reminisced, the fondness clear in your voice. “What about you?”

Inumaki nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We had a cat, Momo. She was the queen of the house. Independent, a bit sassy, but she’d curl up on my lap whenever I was upset. It’s like she just knew.”

You nodded, understanding the bond that pets could create. “It’s funny how they can sense when we need them the most, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it really is,” he agreed, a thoughtful look crossing his face before he shifted the topic again. “So, what’s the wildest thing on your bucket list?”

You chuckled, slightly embarrassed to reveal it. “Honestly? I’ve always wanted to go skydiving. It’s terrifying, but I feel like it’d be the ultimate rush.”

His eyes lit up with surprise and admiration. “Skydiving? That’s intense! I wouldn’t have pegged you for an adrenaline junkie.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t call myself that. It’s just something I want to do once, you know? Prove to myself that I can face my fears.”

He nodded, clearly impressed. “I get that. It’s like a way of pushing your limits. I’m not sure I’d have the guts to jump out of a plane, though.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased. “You’re dragging me onto roller coasters, but you’re scared of skydiving?”

He chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fair point. Maybe we’ll both conquer our fears together.”

The conversation flowed easily as you talked about dreams for the future, random thoughts that popped into your minds, and even shared some embarrassing stories that had you both laughing until your sides hurt.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” you said between laughs, recounting a particularly mortifying moment from high school. “But it’s one of those things you look back on and just have to laugh at.”

Inumaki was still laughing, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “That’s priceless. I had a similar moment in middle school when I tried to impress a girl by joining the school talent show. Let’s just say my magic trick didn’t go as planned.”

You gasped, eager to hear more. “What happened?”

“I accidentally revealed the trick’s secret in front of everyone,” he confessed, shaking his head with a smile. “The worst part? The girl I was trying to impress was in the front row. She never let me live it down.”

You both burst into laughter again, the shared stories only deepening the connection between you. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught up in the moment.

It wasn’t until you both instinctively glanced down at your phones that you realized how much time had passed. The soft glow of the screens revealed the time—midnight. Startled, you exchanged surprised looks.

“Midnight already?” you murmured, a bit incredulous.

Inumaki smiled softly, a hint of surprise in his voice too. “Guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. Feels like we just got here.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a bit of disbelief at how quickly the night had flown by, but also a warm contentment in the connection you had shared.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I brought us some chocolate,” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering the treats you had stashed in your bag. You quickly reached in and pulled them out, a grin spreading across your face. “My friends got it for me the other day and insisted I try them. I thought we could maybe try them together.”

Inumaki’s eyes lit up with curiosity, his usual playful demeanor softened by the prospect of sharing something simple but special with you. “Sure, why not?” he replied with a warm smile.

You handed him a piece of chocolate, and he accepted it with a nod of thanks. There was a brief pause as he looked at the treat in his hand, then, with a swift and practiced motion, he lifted his mask just enough to allow the chocolate to pass through, keeping his mouth hidden from view. It was such a small, casual gesture, but something about it felt almost intimate, as if this moment of sharing something sweet had added another layer to the connection you were building.

You popped a piece of chocolate into your own mouth, savoring the rich, velvety taste as it melted on your tongue. The two of you sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, simply enjoying the treat and each other’s company. The night, with its twinkling city lights and cool breeze, felt even more perfect now, with the simple pleasure of sharing something sweet together.

“This is really good,” Inumaki commented, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. “Your friends have good taste.”

“Yeah, they do,” you replied with a smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours briefly before glancing back out at the city skyline. “It’s the little things like this that make moments like these even better, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t agree more. “Definitely. It’s like…everything just falls into place, you know? The view, the company, the chocolate—it all just fits.”

Inumaki chuckled softly, his gaze still fixed on the city below. “Yeah, it really does.”

“Hey, let’s get going. It’s a school day tomorrow, and we don’t want to be tired,” he says with a laugh, standing up and extending his hand to you.

You giggle softly and take his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he helps you to your feet. The butterflies that had settled in your stomach earlier suddenly come alive again as he walks you back to his bike, his hand never leaving yours. It’s such a simple thing, but the way he holds on, the way he doesn’t let go, sends a wave of warmth through you.

When you reach the bike, he grabs your helmet and carefully places it over your head. He’s done this before, and each time, it makes you lose your composure a little more. It feels so intimate, even though it really isn’t, but the way he does it makes you feel weak in the best way possible. It’s a small gesture, sure, but it carries so much weight, making your heart race every time.

After securing your helmet, he puts on his own and then gets on the bike, turning back to you with that familiar, comforting smile. As always, he helps you onto the bike, his hands steadying you as you take your seat behind him. Once you’re settled, you wrap your arms around his waist, and with a gentle rev of the engine, you’re off, the city lights fading behind you as you head back.

Damn… he looked so fucking good earlier… The thought hit you out of nowhere as you replayed the image of him leaning back on his motorcycle, his relaxed posture accentuating his physique in the most distracting way. God, his physique looks ughhhhh… The way the light had played off him, casting shadows that made him seem even more mysterious—and that’s kind of… hot…

Wait, what the fuck am I thinking?

As quickly as the thoughts arose, you shook your head, mentally chastising yourself for letting your mind wander in that direction. What the hell is going on with me? You tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered stubbornly, leaving you feeling both flustered and confused. You couldn’t quite put a finger on why these feelings were surfacing now, but one thing was clear—you were in deeper than you had realized.

And just as you were wrestling with those thoughts, trying to push them out of your mind, Inumaki moved his hand back onto your leg. The touch was gentle at first, but then he slowly slid his hand up your thigh, sending a shiver through your entire body. He continued down to your knee and then further down to your ankle, his touch almost hypnotic.

The simple act made your heart race even faster, and suddenly, the thoughts you were trying so hard to suppress came rushing back with even more intensity. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your mind spinning with thoughts you wouldn’t normally entertain—thoughts that were wildly out of character for you.

What is happening to me? you wondered, feeling the tension in your body build. His touch was driving you crazy, making it hard to focus on anything but the way his hand felt as it moved up and down your leg. You were more flustered than ever, your mind racing with ideas and desires you never thought you’d have. It was overwhelming, and you had no idea how to handle the sudden rush of feelings that he had unintentionally stirred within you.

Inumaki pulls into your neighborhood, the familiar surroundings slowly grounding you from the whirlwind of emotions. He stops in front of your place, and you hop off the back of his bike, taking your helmet off as you face him. “Thank you, Toge… today was really fun,” you say, feeling a slight blush creeping up your cheeks.

He quickly takes his helmet off and looks into your eyes, concern flickering in his expression. He gently places a hand on your cheek, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft but serious.

You blink, a bit confused. “Yeah, of course I am… what do you mean?” you respond.

“Your eyes… they’re super red and glossy,” he points out, his brow furrowed with concern.

You laugh, realizing what he’s talking about. “So are yours,” you retort, playfully pointing at him.

He chuckles lightly, but his expression remains thoughtful. “I knew it. I started feeling really weird while riding.”

You nod slightly, feeling a bit relieved to hear it wasn’t just you. “Oh, me too. I started thinking… weird things…”

Inumaki raises an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?”

Caught off guard, you stammer, “Oh… uh… NOTHING!” Your face turns bright red again as you quickly look away, embarrassed by your own thoughts.

He chuckles at your flustered reaction, but his tone shifts back to curiosity as he asks, “Okay… Y/N?”

“Mhm?” you hum, glancing back at him.

“What’s the chocolate brand you gave us?” he asks, his tone now serious.

You think for a moment, trying to recall. “Uhh, I don’t remember…? I think it started with a K… Kiva or something like that? Never heard of it, but it’s super good,” you say happily, oblivious to the significance.

Inumaki just stares at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “What…?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t quite place.

“Yeah?” you reply, still not understanding where this is going.

“That’s weed chocolate,” he finally says, deadpan.

“Wheat? Oh, are you allergic to wheat?” you ask, genuinely concerned.

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, stupid, not wheat. I mean, like, edible.”

“Well… yeah, it is edible. We literally ate it,” you say, confusion evident in your voice.

He just laughs harder, clutching his stomach. “God, you’re so innocent. No, Y/N. It’s cannabis chocolate. We’re high out of our minds.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. “Whaaaaaaaaaaaa?” you exclaim, completely floored by the revelation.

Inumaki just grins at your reaction, clearly enjoying the moment. “Yeah… welcome to the world of edibles,” he says, still laughing as you try to process what just happened.

“Wait, but how—what—” you stammer, still trying to wrap your head around the situation.

Inumaki chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Clearly, your friends bought it for you and wanted you to try it out.”

“Oh god, I’m so stupid,” you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief.

“This is hilarious, but I’m gonna head home. It’s getting pretty late.”

“Wait, what?! Are you crazy? I’m not letting you drive home high out of your mind, especially on a motorcycle,” you say, your voice rising in concern.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve done it before, and I was fine,” he replies casually, as if it’s no big deal.

You stare at him in disbelief, your worry quickly turning to frustration. “First of all, don’t tell me that because I’ll literally lose my mind! Second, why the hell were you stupid enough to do that? Do you have a death wish? And third, no way under any circumstance am I letting you ride high right now. Especially not because of me. So, get your ass into my apartment.”

Inumaki blinks, taken aback by your sudden fierceness. He opens his mouth to argue but quickly realizes there’s no point. Your tone leaves no room for negotiation, and honestly, he can’t help but admire how serious you’re taking this.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll stay. But just for the record, you’re pretty scary when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Good. Now come on, let’s get inside before we both do something else stupid.”

As you turn to head inside, Inumaki lingers for a moment, watching you with a slight smirk. He then whispers under his breath, “And pretty hot too.”

You catch the murmur of his voice and glance back at him, puzzled. “Huh? What was that?”

He straightens up quickly, his expression shifting to one of feigned innocence. “Nothing! Lead the way!” he replies, a bit too quickly, trying to hide the slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

You narrow your eyes at him for a second, suspicious, but eventually shrug it off and continue leading him into the house, completely unaware of the quiet compliment that just slipped out.

You showed Inumaki around your apartment, pointing out the bathroom, the kitchen, and anything else he might need during his stay. As you finished the tour, he smiled warmly at you. “Your apartment is really cute. I love how the aesthetic matches your vibe,” he said, his compliment making you blush slightly.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a bit flustered by the praise.

He glanced around the living room before asking, “Quick question… where exactly am I going to sleep?”

You looked around, realizing that your couch was way too small for Inumaki to sleep on comfortably. Your eyes darted to your bedroom behind him, and you felt a sudden wave of nervousness. “I… haven’t thought that far…” you admitted.

Inumaki shrugged casually. “I could still go home, you know,” he suggested, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

Before he could finish the thought, you quickly grabbed his hand and led him toward your bedroom. “Don’t be stupid, Toge, you’re sleeping with me tonight.”

Inumaki’s eyes widened, he smirked a bit as his face turning slightly red as he processed what you just said. You paused, suddenly realizing the implication of your words, and quickly let go of his hand. “UH… THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT… I mean, like, sleep in the same bed as me… wait, that still doesn’t sound better!”

You started to panic, fumbling over your words, but before you could continue, Inumaki smirked and placed his thumb over your lips and his hand was on your chin to gently silence you. “Shhh, I get it, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. He chuckled lightly. “We’re sharing the bed, got it.”

He said it so casually, but the ease in his tone only made your face turn an even deeper shade of red. The fact that he noticed your intense blushing didn’t help either; his amused expression made it clear that he found your flustered state endearing.

You nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Okay, yeah… sharing the bed,” you mumbled, trying to regain some composure.

Inumaki just smiled, the playful glint in his eyes never fading. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

His reassurance was meant to calm you, but it only made the butterflies in your stomach flutter even more.

Inumaki’s reassuring words lingered in the air as you both stood there, the tension between you palpable. You nodded again, trying to shake off the nervous energy that had settled over you. “Right… okay, so, um… let me just grab some extra blankets,” you said, quickly turning away to busy yourself with finding something to do, anything to distract from the situation.

As you rummaged through your closet for blankets, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Inumaki. He seemed completely at ease, which only added to your internal turmoil. How could he be so calm when you felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest?

When you finally managed to find a spare blanket, you turned back to him, forcing a smile. “Here, just in case you get cold.”

He took the blanket from you, his fingers brushing against yours in the process. “Thanks,” he said with a gentle smile, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than usual.

You cleared your throat, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again. “So, um, I’ll just… I guess I’ll change in the bathroom,” you mumbled, grabbing your pajamas and making a quick exit before you could embarrass yourself further.

Once inside the bathroom, you took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Get it together, you told yourself. It’s just one night. You can handle this.

You changed into your pajamas, splashed some water on your face, and gave yourself one last pep talk before heading back out. When you returned to the bedroom, Inumaki was already sitting on the edge of the bed, his back turned to you as he adjusted the pillows.

He glanced over his shoulder as you entered, offering you a smile that made your stomach flip. “All set?”

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you crossed the room to join him.

You climbed into bed, feeling a bit awkward as you settled under the covers. The bed was big enough to give you both some space, but the reality of sharing it with Inumaki made the situation feel a lot more intimate than you’d anticipated.

Inumaki slid under the blankets beside you, his movements slow and careful, as if he were mindful of your nerves. He turned to face you, his expression soft and reassuring. “Comfortable?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if “comfortable” was the right word for how you felt. “Yeah, I’m good.”

There was a brief silence as you both adjusted to the situation, and then Inumaki spoke up, his voice low and gentle. “You know, you don’t have to be so nervous. It’s just me.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only made your heart race faster. “I’m not nervous,” you lied, though it was clear from your voice that you were anything but calm.

Inumaki chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Okay, maybe a little nervous.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound easing some of the tension. “Fine, maybe a little.”

He smiled, the warmth in his gaze making you feel a bit more at ease. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything weird. We’ll just sleep, and tomorrow we can laugh about how awkward this was.”

You nodded, appreciating his effort to lighten the mood. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Toge.”

He gave you a reassuring nod before rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. You followed suit, lying flat on your back with your hands resting on your stomach, trying to calm the flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Minutes passed in silence, the only sound in the room being the soft rustling of the sheets and your synchronized breathing. The initial awkwardness began to fade, replaced by a quiet sense of comfort in just being near him.

Finally, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. Just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt Inumaki’s hand brush against yours under the covers. It was a light, almost accidental touch, but it sent a small shockwave through your entire body.

You glanced over at him, but his eyes were closed, his breathing steady and calm. It could have been an innocent mistake, but the thought that it might not have been left you with a small, secret smile.

As you lay there in the soft glow of the night, the warmth of the moment surrounding you, your gaze drifted to Inumaki’s face, your eyes lingering on the mask he always wore over his mouth. It had become such a familiar part of him, something you almost never questioned, but in this relaxed, almost dreamlike state, your curiosity got the better of you.

“Toge,” you began softly, your voice a little hesitant, “can I ask you something?”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression calm and open. “Of course.”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to phrase your question. “Why do you always wear that mask? I’ve never seen you without it… not even when we’re alone like this.”

Inumaki hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Finally, he sighed softly and replied, “It’s not really a big deal… just something I’ve gotten used to. I was born with a mark next to my lips—it’s kind of like a birthmark, but it’s more noticeable. When I was a kid, people used to make fun of me for it. They’d call me names, say it looked weird, stuff like that. So, I started wearing the mask to cover it up.”

Your heart ached a little at his words, the idea of him being teased for something so personal tugging at your emotions. “That’s awful, Toge. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal, but you could see the lingering hurt in his eyes. “It’s fine. I got used to it, and now it just feels like a part of me, you know?”

You reached out, your fingers gently brushing against his arm, your touch soft and reassuring. “But it doesn’t have to be,” you said quietly. “Can I… can I see it? The mark?”

Inumaki hesitated again, his gaze searching yours for a moment before he slowly nodded. “Yeah… okay.”

With gentle hands, you reached up and carefully pulled down his mask, revealing the lower half of his face. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes fell on the mark he had mentioned—a unique, almost intricate pattern beside his lips, dark and distinct against his skin. It wasn’t what you expected, but rather than seeing it as something to hide, you found it beautiful, like a hidden piece of him that only a few were allowed to see.

Without thinking, you reached out and lightly traced the pattern with your fingertips, your touch feather-light as you followed the lines. Inumaki tensed for a moment, his breath hitching at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. “I love it. It’s so unique, like a part of you that makes you who you are.”

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise and something else—something softer, more vulnerable. “You really think so?”

You nodded, a gentle smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, I do. You don’t need to hide it, Toge. It’s a part of you, and it’s special.”

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of the moment settling over you both. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the years of insecurity battling with the acceptance and warmth he saw in yours.

Finally, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Thank you, Y/N. No one’s ever said that to me before.”

You smiled back, feeling a deep connection forming between you. “Well, I’m glad I could be the first.”

With a small, contented sigh, Inumaki reached up and placed his hand over yours, still resting on his cheek. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice light with affection, “but I think you are too.”

Your heart raced as you realized just how close you were to Inumaki. The sudden awareness of the proximity made you lean back slightly, a wave of self-consciousness washing over you. “Oh my god, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to get up in your space like that,” you blurted out, your words tumbling over each other in your haste to apologize.

Before you could retreat any further, Inumaki’s hand gently cupped your face, his touch warm and steady. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying a reassuring tone that sent shivers down your spine.

“I think it’s just the weed taking over me—” you started to explain, trying to brush off your actions as a side effect of the high.

But he shook his head, leaning in just a little closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “No,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “High actions are sober thoughts, you know? You just get the confidence to do things you wouldn’t normally do if it weren’t for your anxiety.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you with a truth you couldn’t ignore. Your pulse quickened, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you got even more flustered. “You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he added with a soft smile, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

His words only made your heart race faster, your mind struggling to process the mix of emotions flooding through you. The closeness, the warmth of his hand on your face, the way his eyes seemed to see right through you—it was all too much, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Inumaki’s smile widened slightly, his expression soft and understanding. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Just be here, in this moment. That’s enough.”

For a few heartbeats, neither of you moved, the silence filled only by the sound of your breaths mingling in the small space between you. Then, slowly, he leaned in even closer, his eyes never leaving yours, as if asking for permission without words.

Inumaki’s eyes flickered with something intense yet tender, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. Every second stretched out, the moment hanging delicately between what was and what could be.

But just as he began to lean in, Inumaki hesitated. His gaze lingered on your lips for a moment longer before he pulled back slightly, his expression softening into something more thoughtful.

“We should sleep now,” he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was telling you. “Gotta wake up early for school.”

The sudden shift in the atmosphere left you a little breathless, but you understood the unspoken reasons behind his words. He was giving you both space, not wanting to rush into something so significant, especially when the lines between your feelings and the effects of the weed were still blurred.

You nodded, offering him a small, appreciative smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Inumaki returned your smile, his hand still resting lightly on your cheek for a moment before he let it fall away. With that, he turned onto his back, settling into the bed beside you. The closeness was still there, the connection undeniable. You both lay there in the quiet, the earlier tension easing into a comfortable silence.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Inumaki whispered, his voice soft in the stillness of the room.

“Goodnight, Toge,” you replied, a gentle smile tugging at your lips as you closed your eyes.

The room fell into a peaceful silence, the warmth of the shared moment lingering as you both drifted off to sleep, content in the comfort of each other’s presence.

By the time the first light of dawn began to peek through the curtains, your bodies had naturally gravitated toward each other. Your head rested near his shoulder, and one of his arms had unconsciously draped over your waist, as if protecting you even in sleep. The warmth of his presence seeped into your dreams, creating a sense of safety and peace that neither of you could fully comprehend but both embraced nonetheless.

As the first light of morning filtered softly through the curtains, you slowly began to stir from sleep. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust to the gentle brightness, and as you came to full awareness, you felt the warmth of something—or rather, someone—beside you.

At the same moment, Inumaki shifted, his own eyes fluttering open. The first thing he noticed was how close you were, your head resting near his shoulder, your breaths soft and even against his skin. His arm was draped over your waist, a position that felt so natural and comforting that it took a moment for the realization to fully register.

You both froze, wide-eyed, as the reality of the situation sank in. Your faces were mere inches apart, your bodies comfortably nestled against each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Inumaki’s eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and something softer passing between you. For a moment, neither of you said anything, just taking in the closeness, the way your bodies had unconsciously found their way to each other in the night.

“Uh… good morning,” you finally whispered, your voice a little shaky with the mix of emotions swirling inside you.

“Good morning,” Inumaki replied, his voice equally soft. He didn’t move his arm right away, as if he was just as caught off guard by how right it felt to be close to you.

You both shared a small, nervous laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the air.

“Uh… well, that was… cozy,” you said, your cheeks flushed as you tried to break the tension with a small laugh.

Inumaki scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, really cozy,” he agreed, his voice holding a hint of amusement. There was a glint in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t entirely unhappy about waking up that way. In fact, part of him wanted to stay close, to let the morning laziness keep you wrapped up together just a little longer.

“So, uh, I guess we should probably… get ready for school,” you finally suggested, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Yeah… school,” Inumaki echoed, though he made no move to get up. He seemed almost reluctant to break the moment, as if he was considering staying right where he was, enjoying the closeness a little longer.

You both sat there in that awkward-but-sweet limbo, neither of you really wanting to be the first to get up. Finally, Inumaki let out a small, resigned sigh, breaking the spell. “Alright, I guess we should… you know… start the day.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, though you felt a similar reluctance to move. You both stood up, the atmosphere still tinged with the remnants of the unexpected intimacy. You glanced at each other, exchanging shy, almost guilty smiles, as if you both knew you had just crossed a line but weren’t quite ready to address it yet.

Inumaki reached for his mask on the nightstand, but before he put it on, he paused and looked at you. “Hey… last night was… nice. I mean, not just the sleeping part, but… you know, everything.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in your chest return. “Yeah, it really was. And, um… about this morning… I didn’t mind it. Like, at all.”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Good to know,” he said, clearly pleased. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Maybe we can… do it again sometime. Not the weird part, just… hanging out together.... you know?”

You blushed, but nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Taglist <3

@madaqueue @mikko-mikko @arabella0001

[fanfictionalraven]

Piece by Piece Pt. 10

Title: Piece By Piece Pt. 10

Summary: The aftermath of being taken by the angels.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel, Original Character

Word Count: 2,937

Warnings: Vomitting, angst

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 9 here.

Dean continues to drive through the day, stopping for food and gas. He tells Sam what Zachariah had told him and why they’d created the alternate reality. Later in the afternoon, M.K. falls asleep spread across the front seat between yourself and Dean. Her head is resting on his leg and her legs on yours. Dean’s fingers are running through her curls gently as you run a hand over her calf.

All of a sudden, you feel the nausea start up out of nowhere and groan, laying your head back against the seat. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to fight back the sick feeling. The car was currently flying down a back road in the middle of nowhere, no bathrooms in sight.

“Y/N? You okay?” Dean asks, glancing over at you. You shake your head slowly.

“Pull over,” you tell him, eyes still closed. Your main goal right now was to not throw up all over his car. You can feel the car steadily slow down and you carefully push M.K.’s legs off of your own.

Before the car even comes to a complete stop, you clamber out the door. You manage to get a few feet away before your lunch decides to make its reappearance. You hit your knees, bracing yourself against the ground. Two hands are on you a second later, one holding your hair and the other rubbing soothing circles into your back.

Once your stomach is empty, you sit up. Dean hands you a rag and a bottle of water he’d found in the car and you thank him before wiping at your mouth. You unscrew the lid on the bottle and drink about half of it before sighing. Your eyes meet Dean’s and you find his full of that same concern he’d always had for you.

“Are you really pregnant?” He asks. You nod, watching his face. “Did you know before?”

“I’m three months now. I’ve known for about two,” you confess, your voice raw from your previous heaving. He frowns and shakes his head quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. You sigh and run the rag across your sweat-damp forehead.

“You haven’t been home since Valentine’s Day, Dean. And I wasn’t going to tell you over the phone,” you tell him. His face falls as the realization hits.

“Valentine’s Day. That’s what you were going to tell me,” he says. You nod and he hangs his head with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Sorry?” You ask, panic rising up in your chest. He looks back at you and his eyes widen.

“No!! Not – not sorry about the baby. I could never – I mean, it’s really terrible timing but – that would be like regretting M.K. or being with you and – there’s no way I could ever do that,” he says, reaching out and brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. Things have been crazy and when Cas showed up at the house like that – I thought staying away from you would keep you safer. I guess I was wrong.”

“Well it wasn’t exactly like we spent the last three weeks being tortured,” you start. “Penthouse apartment. Fancy private school.”

“Pregnant yoga and no caffeine?” He asks, trying not to laugh. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Yea, that was the torture,” you say. “And don’t go getting any wild ideas.” He laughs now and helps you to your feet.

“So was the nausea this bad with M.K.?” He asks. You shake your head as the two of you make your way back to the car.

“I actually got lucky with M.K. I was never sick. This time around though,” you trail off and sigh. Dean nods and presses a kiss to your temple before opening the passenger side door for you.

“Well it’s your turn to get some rest,” he says. You look into the car and see that M.K. is now laid out across the backseat, curled into Sam’s side. You smile and slide in, Dean closing the door behind you. He comes around and gets back in. “C’mon,” he says, patting the seat between you. You lay across the front seat, your head coming to rest on his leg. He lays his arm across your side. You quickly drift off to sleep as his fingers brush lightly against your stomach.

You wake up sometime later, groggy and confused. You don’t remember moving from the car to a bed yet here you were on a comfortable mattress with a blanket draped over you. Sitting up slowly, you look around. It was an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Willing yourself to remain calm, you push yourself up from the bed.

The cool air meets your legs and you look down to find them bare. You’re only wearing a grey t-shirt that you immediately recognized as one of Dean’s. A pair of jeans are sitting folded on the dresser across the room. They look brand new you realize as you pull them on quickly. A perfect fit. You sigh, thankful for the familiar denim after three weeks of wearing nothing but dresses and skirts.

Opening the door, you’re greeted by a familiar scent. The smell of fresh cooked bacon wafts up the staircase to you. You can hear M.K. giggling as you slowly make your way down to the rest of the strange house. Following the sound and scent, you find the kitchen. An older man in a vest and baseball cap is standing over the stove, frying up the bacon. M.K. is seated at the table behind him, a wide grin spread across her face.

“Momma!! You’re awake!!” She exclaims. The man looks at you and smiles warmly. “Look!! Grandpa Bobby is real!!” Bobby. Of course. The man who was like a father to Dean and Sam. Any panic you had been feeling quickly subsides. You knew this was a man you could trust even if you’d never actually met him.

“I don’t know why she’s calling me that,” Bobby mumbles, a blush creeping into his cheeks. He turns, setting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. You hear a door open and a moment later Dean comes into the room, wiping grease from his hands.

“Hey!! Morning, Gorgeous,” he says, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “How you feeling?” He asks. You shrug your shoulders slightly.

“Confused. Hungry,” you tell him. He laughs and pulls you to a chair at the table. You sit down and Bobby sets a plate in front of you as well. “Thank you.” He smiles and nods. Dean’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Well since your actually conscious now,” Dean says, winking down at you. “This is Bobby. Bobby, this is Y/N my…” He stops and you look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Ummm.”

“Girlfriend, Dean. She’s your girlfriend,” Sam says from the adjacent room. You look over and find him sitting at a desk, several books open in front of him. M.K. giggles as she takes a bite of bacon.

“Just girlfriend?” Bobby asks. You look at him quickly and he smiles, glancing at your left hand. Your eyes widen and shoot to the diamond ring and silver band still on your finger.

“You changed my clothes but didn’t take these off?” You ask, looking up at Dean. He rubs the back of his neck and stammers.

“Well — Ummm — I just thought — you might like to keep them,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“If this is a proposal it isn’t a very good one,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly.

“No!! I’m not — I mean, not that I wouldn’t — but this isn’t —,” he stops. Sam starts to snigger and Dean shoots a glare at him. You smile and reach over, taking Dean’s hand.

“Calm down. I’m kidding,” you tell him. He smiles now and squeezes your hand.

“Dean,” Sam says, his voice shifting from its early teasing tone. You all look over and find Cas standing in the middle of the room. Dean drops your hand and immediately moves to stand in front of you. Bobby makes his way around the table, shielding M.K.

“The hell do you want? You swore you’d keep them out of this,” Dean says, pointing an accusatory finger at Cas. The angel furrows his brow and shakes his head.

“I did not know of Zachariah’s plan. If I had, I would have warned you. I do not wish harm on any of you. Especially Y/N, Mary Katherine, or your unborn child,” he says. Dean’s hands clench at his sides.

“What do you want, Cas?” He asks.

“I came to apologize to all of you,” he says, glancing at you as well. Dean crosses his arms and shakes his head. “I didn’t know, Dean. I swear. I am sorry.” The room is quiet as you glance at each of the men. M.K. stands from her chair and takes a step around Bobby.

“I forgive you,” she says, starting towards him. Bobby’s hand shoots out, landing on her shoulder. She shrugs him off and takes a few more steps.

“Mary Katherine,” you call to her quickly. She stops dead in her tracks. You very rarely ever use her full name like that and it always gets her attention. But she isn’t looking at you now with the pitiful look she always does when she’s in trouble. She’s almost surprised.

“You always say when someone apologizes and they really mean it that we have to be the bigger person and forgive them even if we don’t want to,” she says. You stare at her as she continues towards Cas. He looks down at her, curiously. “Do you really mean it?”

“I — I do. I’m sorry, Mary Katherine,” he says. She smiles and wraps her arms around his legs.

“M.K. I’m only Mary Katherine when I’m in trouble,” she tells him. You all stare in disbelief as a small smile spreads across the angel’s face. He reaches down and pats her head awkwardly before she lets him go and returns to her breakfast. Dean sighs and shakes his head.

“They’re staying here for now with Bobby. If anything happens to them again, Cas, I swear there isn’t a force on this earth that will stop me from killing every last one of you,” he tells him. Cas nods once then disappears. You look down at your plate. There’s a tense silence before Dean breaks it with a chuckle. “Why’d you have to go and raise her to be such a good person?” Dean asks, looking back at you.

“What do you mean we’re staying here with Bobby?” You ask, ignoring his question as you look up at him. He sighs, as though he’d been dreading this conversation, then kneels down next to you.

“I gotta keep you two — you three safe,” he says, his hand reaching towards your stomach. You swat at his hand quickly and he arches an eyebrow at you.

“For how long?” You ask. He shrugs.

“However long it takes,” he says. You stare at him and shake your head slightly.

“We can’t just stay here, Dean. We’ve got lives to get back to. Lives we’ve already missed three weeks of. I may not even have a job to go back to but she has to go back to school,” you tell him.

“I can’t leave you unprotected. Bobby can keep you safe while I’m out trying to stop all this,” he says, rising to his feet. You frown and look up at him.

“No offense to Bobby but Cas just came and went like it was nothing. You really think an army of angels couldn’t do the same if they wanted us bad enough?” You ask, standing from your chair. Dean crosses his arms over his chest, determined. You glance over at M.K. to find she’s watching you both closely.

Sighing, you leave the kitchen and quickly make your way back up the stairs to the bedroom you’d been in earlier. You close the door and lean against it for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. Your phone is sitting on the table next to the bed. You make your way across the room and grab it, quickly finding Lily’s name in your contacts. It rings twice before your best friend’s voice comes over the line.

“Hey!! Didn’t expect to hear from you. How’s the vacation?” She asks. You stare at the wall in front of you.

“Va – vacation?” You ask, your voice trembling. You hear Lily laugh on the other end.

“Yea? Dean whisked you two away suddenly for a family vacation. You left me a voicemail saying you were gonna be gone for a while,” she says. You fall onto the edge of the bed, your hand over your mouth. “Y/N? You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m – ummm – just checking in,” you tell her, fighting back tears. After a brief conversation, you set the phone aside again. Laying back on the bed, you run your hands over your face. You hear someone walking up to the door and it opens then closes again. A second later, the bed dips beside you. “I called Lily. Everyone thinks we’re on vacation apparently.” You look over at Dean and he nods slightly. “But we have to get back Dean. She has to get back to school.”

“Your lives are more important, Y/N,” he says. You sigh and sit up.

“The only difference in us staying here is that Bobby is in danger. And I am not going to be the reason he gets killed. I’m not,” you tell him. “We’re going home.”

“Well I don’t know how you’re getting there cause I’m not taking you,” he says. You look at him quickly.

“That’s kidnapping, Dean,” you say. He rolls his eyes, rising from the bed. “Fine. I’ll ask Sam or Bobby to do it.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” he says. You stare at him-, your anger building quickly.

“Then we’ll take the bus because we are not staying,” you tell him defiantly. He shakes his head as he watches you.

“I can’t let you leave,” he says. “That’s my daughter and you’re carrying my baby and you’re my –.” He stops short and you look back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Your what, Dean? You can’t even say it!! That’s what the real torture was, these past three weeks. Hearing you say that you love me knowing I’ll never hear it again now!! You don’t even tell M.K. that you love her!!” You snap at him. “So don’t try and give me some crap about how you want to keep us safe because you care about us or we’re your family. You want to keep us safe to keep your conscious clear. So, no thank you. We don’t need your protection. We’re leaving.” You turn for the door quickly.

“And the baby?” Dean asks, his voice unnaturally calm. You freeze, your hand on the handle.

“I raised M.K. for 10 years without you. What’s another one?” You ask, your words biting. You pull the door open and march down the stairs. Three pairs of eyes land on you as you step into the kitchen, Sam having joined the other two now. “Would you be willing to take us to the closest bus stop, Sam?” He frowns and looks down at the table. You nod and turn to the other man. “Bobby, please?” He sighs and nods, rising from the table. “M.K. tell Uncle Sam bye. We’re leaving.”

“But Momma,” she starts.

“Mary Katherine,” you snap. She hangs her head and jumps down from the chair. She slowly walks over to Sam and he wraps her up in a tight hug.

“Bye Uncle Sam,” she tells him quietly. He kisses her forehead then lets her go.

“Bye M.K.,” he says. You put your hand on her back, guiding her to the door as Bobby picks up the keys to his truck.

“What about Daddy?” She asks, looking up at you. There’s a sadness in her eyes as though she knows what’s happening.

“I’m right here, Baby girl,” he says. You turn and find Dean standing on the steps about halfway down. She runs up to him and he picks her up in his arms. “Listen to your mom, kid.”

“Aren’t you coming home too?” She asks, her voice thick with tears. You frown and avert your eyes quickly. Dean kisses her hair and sets her down.

“Be good,” he says, avoiding her question. She comes back down the stairs, dejected, and you take her hand. You glance up at Dean and find him staring at the floor. Bobby opens the door and you pull M.K. from the house quickly.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed when the door closes then sits down on the step beneath him. Sam comes into front hall and leans against the door frame, crossing his arms. Dean runs his hands over his face and lets out a sigh.

“That was a stupid plan,” Sam says. Dean shrugs slightly, looking back at his brother.

“Worked didn’t it?” He asks. Sam shakes his head in disbelief.

“How’d you know she’d leave?” He asks. Dean smiles a little and looks at his hands.

“I love her. You think I don’t know what would piss her off enough to make her leave me?” He asks. Sam shakes his head again and goes back into Bobby’s study, leaving Dean sitting on the steps, staring at the silver band that was still on his left hand.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 11 here.

[lovelyrocker]

Poop Girl pt. 9

RPF

Warnings: Pining, Flirting, Language, Drinking, Pining

Characters: Timothee Chalamet, Reader

Pairings: Timothee x Reader

Word Count: 1379

She looked in the mirror, going over her reflection again. She’d changed several times already, trying to decide what to wear. He said nice casual but his nice casual and her nice casual could be two different times of nice casual.

Deciding on a simple black cocktail dress that fell at her knees, she matched it with a set of black shoes and was set. Timothee showed up at her apartment at exactly 8pm just as he said he would. “Well, damn!” She smirked seeing his dark blue button down and black slacks. “You clean up good.”

“Not so bad yourself.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She said, taking a breath. “So, where are we going?” 

Timothee opens the door to his car with a smirk. “Let’s just say I did my research.” He tells her as he shuts the door, going around, climbing into his side of the car. 

“Research?” She asks. “What kind of research?”

“You’ll see.” He winks.

They make playful small talk as they drive across the city and come to a stop in front of a warehouse. She looks over at Timothee with a raised brow skeptical of what was going on. He puts that car in park and says nothing. He goes over to her side of the car and opens the door, holding out a hand. She places her hand in his and is led to the door. 

He opens the door with a key and pushes the door open. “After you.” He holds out an arm. 

She walks in and sees the warehouse is actually an art studio. The walls are adorned with dozens of paintings. Easels  had paintings sitting on them, the whole room was colorful and bright. Lights were strung all over the beams creating a beautiful cozy, romantic atmosphere. In the corner was a table set for two. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Timothee told her as he walked in, placing a hand on her waist. “What happened to not being fancy and subtle?” He guided her to the table and pulled out a chair. “First off, I don’t do subtle.” He pushed her seat in and took a seat himself. “I show my feelings in big ways.” He tells her, pulling his napkin out and placing it on his lap. “Also, it’s not fancy and I only spent money on the food.” He smirks. “This is my friend's place. An afternoon of elbow work and this is what we get.” He opened the dish in the middle of the table and revealed steaming chicken alfredo. The bread was soft and salted just right. The entire meal was heavenly. 

“Tim, is this Olive Garden?” She asks with a hand over her mouth.

“I told you I did my research.” He nodded. “I asked Sal like a million questions.” He admitted.

“Meaning you ambushed my uncle for infor for a date.”

“If you want to belittle my efforts, yes.” He poured her a glass of wine. “But, yes. I played 20 questions with Sal to get this right.” She sipped her wine looking over at him. “I learned Olive Garden is your favorite restaurant. You love art and used to paint. Your favorite wine is chardonnay. You have a cat named Scooter and you found him in a dumpster the night you moved to LA.”

“Well, Mr. Chalamet, I will admit, I’m impressed. You did your homework.”

“You’re a fun subject to study.” The look in his eye is mischievous, yet sweet. 

“Oh am I?” She sipped her wine. “I always thought I was quite boring.”

“I don’t think you're boring at all.” He sips from his own glass. “You ever thought about going back to painting?” 

“I played with the idea, but never settled back down long enough to really get back into it. I’ve always been busy working to keep myself afloat.”

“I’d love to see some of your work.” He tells her. 

“Maybe.”

He looks behind himself at the studio lightly lit and then back to her. “Want to dance?”

“Dance?” She placed her wine glass down. “You know how to dance?”

“A little.” His smirk was like a school boy and it made her heart flutter. He stood, holding his hand out to her. 

She took his hand and he led her to the middle of the studio. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he pulled her close, taking her hand in his. Her hand rests on his shoulder, looking him in the eye. They gently begin to sway to the music, Timothee trying very hard not to smile from ear to ear.

“What are you grinning at?” She asked with a smile. 

“I’m thinking for our next date, maybe a basketball game.”

“Next date?” She raised her brow. “Feeling sure of yourself, aren’t we?”

“Your smile and that look in your eyes tells me all I need to know.”

“Oh?”

Timothee gives a gentle nod. “Yes.” He clears his throat gently. “So, tell me,” He looks down into her eyes. “You rather LA or New York?”

“In general?” She giggles.

“Yes.” He gives a chuckle. “You’ve lived in both. What do you think?”

“I like L.A. It’s slower paced and more relaxed than New York. Everyone isn’t on top of one another.”

“But?” He raises a brow, knowing there was a but coming.

“I do miss the city. The easiness of it all being right there. The sounds and the people.” She watches Timothee nod as he looks at her while she talks. “You actually listen.”

“Of course I’m listening.” He smirks at her. “Why wouldn’t I be listening?”

Gently shaking her head she glanced away. “Most guys just pretend to listen while they plot their next move.”

“I’m not most.” He lifts his hand and tilts her chin up. “I could listen to you all night.” His thumb caressed her cheek. 

“What’s the catch with you?”

Timothee smirks. “I’m touchy.” He leaned in, touching his lips to hers.

He held the kiss till he needed breath. He pulled away long enough to catch a breath and press his lips back to hers. Unlike before she let him explore her mouth with his tongue. She could feel how needy he was to taste her. She was just as eager as he was and her reserve to hold back was letting up. She let herself melt into him as his hands held her firm against his body. His grip was firm yet gentle on her back. Her hands slid up his neck, her fingers tangling into his hair. 

Her back touched the wall, unaware that she was being backed up till she touched the wall. She gave a giggle into Timothee’s mouth. 

He pulled away with a smile and looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She pulled him back to her mouth. 

He pulled her from the wall as their tongues danced together as they moved across the room. Hands grabbing and lips gliding over skin. They hit a shelf and pulled apart with a gasp as cold paint spilled onto them.

Timothee had bright yellow paint dripping from his nice shirt and hair. She looked at her dress, the vibrant blue completely ruining her dress. “I am so sorry!” Timothee looked over at her, her hands covering her mouth. “I’ll get you something to clean up with!” As he walked past her a sound left her and he turned back. “Did you just snort?” She let out the most adorable laugh Timothee had ever heard as she balled over in a fit of laughter. “Are you laughing?”

“Yes!” She laughed out. “You have paint in your ear.” She reaches, grabbing a towel from the shelf. 

“Your dress just got ruined and you're laughing?” He asked as she wiped his ear. 

She took a deep breath, standing in front of him. “Shut up and kiss me, Mr. Chalamet.” She told him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

Timothee got an earful from his friend for making a mess in the studio, but he didn’t mind. It was worth the slow kisses that lead to a heated make out session on the now ruined black leather couch. 

[brekkie-e]

Horizon Asks

Thanks for the tag @maybirdie I salute you

1. Ride or die ship (your otp): Ereloy. Duh. Not even a question. Brain rot of the most severe nature.

2. Most annoying ship: I stand by the sentiment that we all need to stop with the shipping war drama in this fandom. So before I say anything more, I don’t find any of your ships annoying. I’m putting these down as “scroll past them” ships because they don’t suit my personal taste. Kotaloy and Kotallo/Talanah. His inclusion in these might come off like it’s something against him which is ironic cause he’s actually one of my favorite characters? I think the weak point of them for me is that they both feel like hot jock/hot jock, and apparently I cannot appreciate a ship that doesn’t in some capacity adhere to opposite’s attract. But I can see why it works for other people and if it makes you happy, I support it.

3. Second favorite ship: Abadund/Morlund, and for whatever reason Ourea/Sylens. I love imagining Sylens’ ears absolutely burning while he eavesdrops on her conversation with Aloy about what she had thought of him.

4. Favorite platonic relationship: I am OBSESSED with the dynamic between Kotallo and Alva. Obsessed I say. They are precious to me.

5. Underrated ship: It isn’t a ship, it’s a half built dingy that I am assembling myself but lost the instructions for. Talanah/Ivvira. In a very “enemies to lovers” scenario where Ivvira keeps finding this arrogant Carja traipsing through her lands and tries to kill her, but Talanah keeps defeating her and it’s driving her up a wall.

6. Overrated ship: Honestly I don’t really have opinions about other ships??? Like if it isn’t Ereloy or one of the other’s I’ve listed then genuinely it’s just sitting there, and I don’t care about it. Now if they were to make one end game, and it feels like I’m blindsided by it? Maybe I’ll have an opinion. But atm not so much. Just let me sit in my corner with my ships in peace.

7. One thing I would change in canon: Seconding the “one?” Vibes. There are a lot of nit picky things I would like to alter about how they handled Erend in Forbidden West, but ultimately he did play a good role in some of my favorite scenes. So I think if it came down to choosing the one thing I would change, it’s hands down Varl’s death. It felt like a lot of character development wasted and it’s frustrating to know that we won’t get to see the relationships he was developing grow any deeper. I think if you have to rely on character death to create an interesting story or to traumatize your characters, then youre not being creative.

8. Something canon did right:

Alva.

9. A thing I’m proud of creating for the fandom:

My darlings.

10. A character who is perfect to me: I guess Alva’s already taken so…… hmm. I love Joruf’s vibes ngl. The man is so tired, and I just adore how he and the other vanguard treat Aloy like she’s one of the gang. The energy of Aloy showing up in the Daunt and Joruf acting like his coworker came in mid-shift to help him with a disaster was top tier.

11. The character I relate to most and why: I had to really think about this. I think I’m going with Zo? Mom friend to the core, but also known to cause problems of my own when the need arises. Like’s plant’s and nature and has a creative side. Values her community, but also criticizes the faults she sees in it.

12. Characters I hate the most: I mean the obvious, Faro sucks ass. But boy howdy did the Ceo give me the creeps too. Also I have a complicated relationship with Avad. Like the dude has done incredible stuff for his people, and I think he’s a great guy. But his blunders with Aloy (which i think are more an issue with how his interest in her was written than with the fact he’s interested period) and his dreams of handing off responsibility to his little brother rub me the wrong way. But it’s complicated, I can appreciate him.

13: Something I’ve learned from the fandom: To focus on what makes me happy, and stay in that lane. I think fandom is best enjoyed when you know what you want out of it, so you cater your online experience to that. Mary Kondo your blog. Block tags that don’t work for you. It doesn’t need to be because you absolutely hate something and the people involved. It just ensures that the content you see is catered to what sparks joy for YOU. If youre only dedicating so much time in a day to being online, don’t you want it to be time spent engaging with stuff that makes you happy?

14. Three tags I see out on ao3: hurt/comfort and slow burn? I don’t seek out enough tags lol

15: A song I strongly associate with my otp/favorite pairing: Bloodsport by Raleigh Ritchie, NFWMB by Hozier, Giant by Rag’nBone Man and Saviour by George Ezra. This question made me so happy. I am actually working on an Erend playlist rn that has a bit of an Ereloy spin on it. Oh also She’s Always a Woman by Billie Joel. Still a gem.

Tagging: I think everyone I know in the fandom has already been tagged?? But if that is untrue and you see this, please feel free to jump on board and consider yourself tagged by me!

[neon-danger]

Does it ever bother you that you write so much but there are so few readers of us? You deserve so much more praise.

Y’all are gonna make my ego bigger than it already is

[treyisms]

beauty sleep

trey parker x gn!reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

cw: really sappy, lack of sleep

- you’re falling asleep in your shared bed, or trying to, at least

- it’s 2:30 am and there’s still no sign of trey & you’ve been tossing and turning from having to sleep without his warmth and open mouth snores (as far as he knows, it’s annoying. but to you… nothing could be more endearing)

- that’s not out of the ordinary though, trey has a horrible habit of falling asleep at the office after a grueling 18 hour process to create the newest south park episode

- usually on nights like these, you stay up staring at the ceiling and thinking about him. hoping he’s resting his head in his hand at least, but a part of your belly gnaws at you because you know your boyfriend would never grant himself the gift of rest until the show was perfected

- the house phone starts ringing, and you immediately sit up in bed with a smile, already knowing it was him

- “hey baby! how are you?” and there’s a long, exhausted sigh before he answers :(

- “i’m okay, can you… can you do me a favor honey? i know it’s late..” and you can almost hear the way he drags his hand across his face and rubs at his eyes to wake himself up

- “anything sweetheart, what is it? you okay?” and there’s a slight little hitch in his breath on the other end of the phone and you can tell he’s getting teary :(

- “can you just… can you come sit with me? i’m so tired and everyone went home, i just.. i don’t want to be alone”

- and that is VERY open and vulnerable for trey, and if this wasn’t such a tender moment you would’ve commended him

- you agree and tell him you’re going to drive over now, still in your sweet lil pajamas he bought for you this christmas season, basically flying down the backroads to get to the studio

- once you get inside, you see that all the rooms are darkened, except for one… his big corner office that seems even lonelier than usual

- cracking the door open, you are greeted with the sight of your boyfriend hunched over in his wooden chair, fingers woven through his shaggy hair and his flannel pajama pant clad legs bouncing in nervousness as he looks up at you with wide eyes

- the tenderness and comfort that settles in his eyes when he sees you <333

- “oh, you’re here” “you needed me” “i always do” :’)

- so you spend the next hour cleaning around his office, readying him to go home but respecting his creative process… even if it is detrimental to his beauty sleep

- you sit to his right on the floor, piecing together some of the paper cutouts of the characters and formatting them for the opening scene trey has listed in the script— anything to ease his mind

- he sits, still typing, but turns to look down at you with a soft smile & red eyes. he brings his strong hand down to your hair, pushing it away from your eyes, and getting lost in you for the moment.

- as his hand rests on the side of your head he pulls you in to kiss your forehead, before letting you rest your head on his thigh and stroking your hair

- “only three more pages beautiful, i promise. you can sleep if you want, okay?”

- your eyes start to flutter as you succumb to sleep, yet you feel him staring down at you & you open your eyes to peer up at him

- even exhausted, and even with the food&drink stains on his sweatshirt, his face is the kindest and warmest you’ve ever seen

- “trey?” “hm?” “what’re you thinkin’ about?” “just thinking about you, that’s all”

- he’s still lightly scratching at your hair, lulling you to sleep as you lay your head back on his thigh, falling asleep to the light tapping of his fingers against the keyboard

- it’s safe to say the next morning that matt walks in to find you two curled up & sleeping on the floor of trey’s office (where trey definitely put his sweatshirt over you to keep you warm)

- sidenote trey definitely pulls your back to his chest when he sleeps, his hand balled into a fist as he holds you tightly but gently… always tightly but gently <3

[mushroom-punk]

the renfield movie review.

After getting rained on, having our first movie theater’s projector break, and having to drive to a different theater, I have finally watched Renfield (2023). ...and it was...fine? The movie’s overall tone is campy and fun, and it never takes itself seriously. It’s writing is horrible, god its so bad - the characters say exactly what they’re thinking at all times, and no emotional arc feels earned or fought for, there are no stakes (haha). But due to how silly the film is, this never makes it hard to watch. Nicholas Hoult truly shines in this movie and makes each scene with him engaging and fun. But god the writing. More thoughts bellow!

I think this movie’s biggest flex is its art direction, with over the top set pieces that create this nasty atmosphere that hangs over the whole film. Its like a grimy combination of The Lost Boys and The Phantom of the Opera. This is all complimented by the score. Without spoiling anything, there’s a moment where Dracula is monologuing and a sinister, orchestral rendition of Swan Lake plays, another reference to the 1931 movie it’s so heavily based off of. Although, it does get points of for the worst use of “na na na na” by MCR I’ve ever seen. It’s second best quality is certainly Nicholas Hoult, who took the shitty script he was given and really made something good with it. There’s a moment when Awkwafina’s character is on the phone, telling another character how fucked up Renfield is - who is sitting in the background cutely drinking some tea. Another detail I really appreciated about Hoult’s performance was the unexpected intensity with which he delivered some lines. On top of keeping Dwight Frye’s iconic laugh, it’s clear Hoult cares deeply for the source material and, if the script was better, I think he could have done a compelling book-accurate Renfield. NICHOLAS CAGE ITS NICK CAGE BABY HE WAS AWESOME ITS NICHOLAS CAGE! His portrayal of Dracula is fun and nasty as hell and might have fucked Ben Schwartz’s mom? The down side to having a movie that uses stylized hyper violence is that any threats of violence Dracula makes don’t really stick. Oh you’re gonna be violent? This is the violence movie! This isn’t an effective threat, you’re not scary! Contrasting this, the few moments where Dracula is simply talking to Renfield, acting like a real-world abuser and not the cartoon villain he is for most of the movie, are eerie and off-putting. Awkwafina’s there. Onto the bad. This film has no stakes, there are few things Renfield can’t slice apart or Awkwafina’s character can’t shoot, and due to the stated hyperviolence, Dracula never feels like a real threat to anyone except the main cast. The characters state what they feel, they experience something, and then state that they feel different in detail.  I’ve mentioned that it’s extremely frustrating that 2023′s Renfield is not written with psychosis in mind, and how this is made worse by its use of pop-psychology terms and the labeling of Dracula as a narcissist - a real condition that doesn’t make the people who have it inherently bad or abusive. This is still true, in fact the frequent references to the 1931 film, while well done, simply reminded me of what Hoult’s performance could have been. The poor writing is this film’s largest downfall, it betrays the heart Hoult brings to his role and its art department. ....however, none of the pop-psychology ever seems to really...do anything effective? Yes, Renfield literally calls Dracula a narcissist and they never really discredit it, but its also shown that calling him all these things and using snappy language doesn’t actually do anything. What does help Renfield the most is finding community and bonding with other people who have experienced abuse. What helps him is talking to people about it and realizing he isn’t alone, which I think is a pretty decent take. I’m going to watch it again when it’s uploaded to my pirating site of choice, but overall it felt more like a criticism of pop-psychology, rather than a celebration of it. Oh and also that the most effective thing you can do to get out of an abusive relationship is to beat the shit out of your abuser with your best friend. 6.5/10.

[queenaryastark]

Arya Stark + Feminism

George R. R. Martin created Arya specifically as a feminist character:

I can’t say there’s any one specific model, but a lot of the women I’ve known over the years have had aspects of Arya with them. Especially some of the women I knew when I was a young man back in the ’60s and ’70s, you know — the decade of the sexual revolution and the feminist movement. I knew a lot of young women who weren’t buying into the, “Oh, I have to find a husband and be a housewife.”

That’s certainly part of Arya’s thing. There’s that scene where Ned is telling her, “Well, one day you’ll grow up and you’ll marry a great lord and you’ll be the lady of the castle.” And she says, “No, I won’t. I don’t want that. That’s Sansa, that’s not me.” I knew women who were saying things like that: “I don’t wanna be Mrs. Smith, I wanna be my own person.” -- GRRM, Rolling Stone 2019

This is illustrated in her first chapter where she argues the value of women with Jon and insists she should have the same opportunities to learn as her little brother, Bran:

She watched her little brother whack at Tommen. "I could do just as good as Bran," she said. "He's only seven. I'm nine."

---

"The Lannisters are proud," Jon observed. "You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother's House equal in honor to the king's." "The woman is important too!" Arya protested. -- Arya I, AGOT

Later in the novel, she asks her father about three different careers she aspires to, all of which involve power and influence in her own right rather than through a husband or male relations:

"Yet someday he may be the lord of a great holdfast and sit on the king's council. He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder, or sail a ship across the Sunset Sea, or enter your mother's Faith and become the High Septon." But he will never run beside his wolf again, he thought with a sadness too deep for words, or lie with a woman, or hold his own son in his arms. Arya cocked her head to one side. "Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?" -- Eddard V, AGOT

It’s interesting to note that while Arya and Ned are talking about how Bran’s aspirations to be a knight are over and Ned mentions sailing a ship across the Narrow Sea for his son, Arya doesn’t latch onto knighthood or sailing. She focuses on being a king’s councillor, architect, and high septon.

The historical figures Arya admires are progressive and assertive women who led others:

Nymeria nipped eagerly at her hand as Arya untied her. She had yellow eyes. When they caught the sunlight, they gleamed like two golden coins. Arya had named her after the warrior queen of the Rhoyne, who had led her people across the narrow sea. -- Arya I, AGOT

Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs. -- Arya XII, ASOS

In addition to admiring historical women, Arya defends other women by executing two rapists for their crime against another girl she never met, Layna. First she uses one of her death wishes on Chiswyck right after he tells the story of what he did. Raff the Sweetling’s execution was also due to his murder of Lommy, but he admitted to participating in the gang rape. Not only does she trick Raff into repeating Lommy’s last words, she presents herself as a young girl he can rape, only to turn the situation around on him.

Arya also has multiple positive female relationships and helps drive business to the Happy Port:

"The best whores are at the Happy Port, down by where the mummers' Ship is moored." She pointed. Some of the dockside whores were vicious, and sailors fresh from the sea never knew which ones. S'vrone was the worst. Everyone said she had robbed and killed a dozen men, rolling the bodies into the canals to feed the eels. The Drunken Daughter could be sweet when sober, but not with wine in her. And Canker Jeyne was really a man. "Ask for Merry. Meralyn is her true name, but everyone calls her Merry, and she is." Merry bought a dozen oysters every time Cat came by the brothel and shared them with her girls. She had a good heart, everyone agreed. "That, and the biggest pair of teats in all of Braavos," Merry herself was fond of boasting. Her girls were nice as well; Blushing Bethany and the Sailor's Wife, one-eyed Yna who could tell your fortune from a drop of blood, pretty little Lanna, even Assadora, the Ibbenese woman with the mustache. They might not be beautiful, but they were kind to her. "The Happy Port is where all the porters go," Cat assured the men of the Brazen Monkey. "'The boys unload the ships,' Merry says, 'and my girls unload the lads who sail them.'" -- Arya III, AFFC

[chelleztjs18]

Half Love (Ch. 4) - Fitting In The Memories

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader ; Katie McGrath x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n's relationship with Lizzie has been in a rough situation and goes downhill. What should Y/n do when there's no choice left to say and a new future opens up with someone new in it?

Warning: This is a collaboration book with my co-writer / friend @stonemags and it’s an 18+ series. Angst, angst, fluff, smut, and swearing words. I do not own any pictures, GIFs, name, brand, song titles and anything I use in this story.

A/N: Hello! I'm back with this series update! It's time for more angsty Sunday! Mags and I hope you enjoy this Ch. 4! Happy reading!

Series Masterlist

A few days after you and Lizzie met, she can’t stop thinking about you. Night after night, she has been so restless and her nights have been filled with her tossing and turning while trying to sleep. Her mind is occupied by you, the memories you both had, and the recent encounter after a year. All of them mixed together. She misses you, so much that all of her bones ache.

From the small memory she has from the time you met her at the meeting, her brain keeps trying to analyze your body language, your words, and your tone to see how you exactly felt when you saw her. Of course it makes her heart clenches in pain and leaped in joy at the same time. Not just that, since that day, Lizzie keeps checking on her phone. Hoping and wishin that you text or call her. It’s almost driving her crazy, really. Displeasure and regrets sometimes show up, thinking she should’ve just bluntly asked for your number but she doesn’t want to make everything awkward and make you create a wall between both of you. Sometimes she just voluntarily lets everything go with the flow even though she knows deep down she wants to fight to win your heart back.

“Stop biting your nails, Liz.” Scarlett reminds Lizzie who is sitting on the passenger side as they are driving to the set for wardrobe fitting day for the main cast today. The second Lizzie found out the fitting schedule, her heart skipped a beat and her stomach turned into a knot. She dreaded yet waiting for this day to come. She can’t lie to herself, she wants to see you again but she also wants to run away from you at the same time.

“I know that it must be hard for you to face Y/n again after a year but I just want to check up on you, how do you actually feel about working with her?” The blonde asks her as she quickly glances at her then back to the road. “I actually don’t know how I feel, Scar.” Lizzie answers in a very low voice as if she doesn’t have enough air in her lungs from thinking about how it is going to be when she is working with you. She looks down, her hands fidgeting nervously.

“I know I have to keep everything professional. One hand, I’m so happy that I can see her again and talk to her, even work with her but on the other hand I don’t know if I can handle it. No matter how y/n and I try to keep everything professional.” Lizzie swallows hard after struggling to answer Scar’s question.

“I understand. Do you know who she is playing in this movie?” Scar asks. “I don’t. I was too nervous and caught off guard when I saw her at the meeting, I didn’t even think to ask her about it.” Lizzie’s fingers rake through her hair, pulling back her hair from her face as she lets out a vixated exhale.

“Okay, uh– well, in the meeting, I met all the main cast and I know who plays who, except one.” Scarlet slowly explains. “Who?” The brunette asks instantly. “Uh your character’s love interest and… the onlyyy cast I haven’t met or talked to was—” Scarlet adds slowly to anticipate her best friend’s reaction but she is quickly interrupted. “Y/n.” Your name fell out of Lizzie’s lips as she came to realization.

“Y/n plays as my love interest. Fuck me.” She covers her face with both of her hands frustratedly, swearing under her breath. Her chest stuttered from the information she just got. Anxiety swirled around her. A weight settled on her heart.

She barely could control her emotions when she saw you or when she thought about you at night, let alone play as each other’s love interest.

“Liz, relax. I know both of you are professional at work. I’m sure both of you can pull this together.” Scarlett tries to calm her down. “Yeah, you are right. I can do this.” Lizzie tries to agree and clear her mind from everything as she controls her breathing at the same time.

“There you go. I know you can do it. Okay, we are here. Let’s go, Liz.” Scar parks the car and opens her door. Both of them walk to the building. As soon as they get into the building, the staff welcomes them and takes Scarlett to a separate room shortly after telling Lizzie to go to room 56 and someone will be waiting for her. She nods and goes to find the room.

Her conversation with Scarlett earlier makes her mind ponder if you are here today. As she walks through the hallway, her heart beats tripling in speed just from thinking that you might be near her. Her eyes subconsciously search for you, every time she passes a door and another and another, her heart hesitates to beat as it secretly begs to see you. Her nose craves your scents, secretly yet intensely searching for your perfume in the air.

Her stomach feels a weird sensation every time she sees a shadow reflected from inside of a room she passes thinking you will be in her sight. Once she sees the number she was searching on the door, she enters the room.Her breath hitches as she finds you in there, standing in your underwear as you put on a t-shirt, sets of clothes are laying in front of you on a table.

An alarm rings in her head when she sees you there and when parts of your bareskin make its way to be seen by her eyes, it instantly sends a short circuit to her brain. She is frozen, trapped under the door frame and can't help but stare at you.

All the emotions she has in her heart and brain paralyzed her. She doesn't know if she wants to smile or wants to cry at this moment. Her heart feels joy and pain at the same time and it's killing her alive.

Her soft shaky breath floats in between silence and brings your attention to her. You are as surprised as she is. Your brain refuses to work after she is in your sight. All your muscles are on strike to move except your eyes that are looking at her gingerly from head to toe. Your heart jumps up to your throat, you are choked on its strong irregular beats, leaving you speechless.

You notice her green eyes start to gleam and glossy. Her lips make a little movement as if tries to talk but she is as speechless as you are. Lizzie hates the gap between you two. She can't deny herself, she wants to be as close as she possibly could. Awkward silence fills the room and the gap in front of both of you.

All shattered when a sound of an opening door forces its way to be heard and Katie comes out of the bathroom as she walks towards you. "Alright, y/n, I'm heading out. I should be back in twenty minutes tops." The black hair woman talks to you with her soft, lovely voice.

Katie's presence subconsciously makes Lizzie try "to mark her territory" on you as if you are still hers by walking closer. Her steps are stopped, her breath hitches when she sees your hand on her left arm and slides down slowly as you two talk.

It was an innocent friendly physical touch you did to the Irish actress but Lizzie knows you very well. You are a nice, sweet and very friendly person to anybody but you almost never do physical contact with people you just met, unless..unless you enjoy their presence or that person makes you comfortable and she knows it's not easy to occur. 

The stare and her breath hitching pull Katie to turn around only to find Lizzie standing there, lost in the thought of you feeling comfortable enough with Katie or the question she has in mind about what's actually going on between you and the slightly taller woman in front of you. Do you like the actress in front of you? Have you really moved on from her that easy? All those thoughts flicked rapidly in seconds until Katie sweetly greeted her.

"Oh, Sorry I didn't know you were there. Hello Elizabeth. Nice to meet you." Katie offers Lizzie a handshake.

"Hi. Katie. Likewise." Three short words were the only things Lizzie managed to say as she accepted her handshake with a smile that was complicatedly patched across her face.

"So, darling, one cream with no sugar?” Katie asks with a smile after she turns her head back to you. Before you can answer her, Lizzie corrects her. “It’s two creams with one sugar actually.” Her green eyes flick between Katie and you. Katie does the same thing but with a confused look. Silence slowly floats in the room again but you quickly push it away. “No. No. You are actually right. Thank you, Katie. I’ll see you in a bit.” Katie nods and leaves.

Awkward silence slowly makes its comeback in the room. As soon as Lizzie tries to start a conversation, the wardrobe crew comes in and explains to both of you today’s fitting plan. You got the first turn.

Lizzie sits on the chair waiting for her turn. She sees you smiling while texting in the middle of  wardrobe fitting. Oh how she wished that smile was for her. The more she looks at you the more her control over her eyes disappears magically. She is no longer able to pull her stare away from you. Once again as if she is in trance, she is now stunned by the view of your body. Your body that she used to call it hers. The body that always gives her warmth in every hug she gets. Her eyes have their own mind and looks at your legs that reminds her of all of the cuddlings on movie nights you both had. How you always wrapped your legs on her.

She tries to look away but her eyes do the opposite and move up to your back. Her heart beats slower from the pain it feels caused by the memories but beats faster as soon as she remembers how your skin feels every time she runs her fingers on it. 

Her eyes are craving to see you more and she can't help herself. She looks at the crook of your neck. She remembers how your perfume was always there and the smell of it evoked her nose every time she hugged you that gave her a comfort wrapped euphoria. It's one of her favorite things about you. She can't lie that it still gives the same effect to her, the only differences now are that feeling comes with a painful heartbreak and a fact that you are not hers anymore.

You can feel her quite stare and it draws your gaze to her. As soon as you glance at her, she looks away followed by clearing her throat.

Once again, as soon as she tries to talk with you, Katie comes in with cups of coffee on a paper cup holder then sets it on the table. She grabs one and waits for you to be done putting on the outfit.

"Here's your coffee, dear." She hands it to you. "Oh thank you, Katie." You accept it with gratitude. The pet name she called you burns Lizzie's ears. She slightly clenches her fist. Trying hard to tell herself that Katie called you with that pet name just because it's common to use where she is from. She is lost in her thoughts and displeasure until she hears her name called.

She gets back from her daze only to find the Irish actress standing in front of her, stretching her hands out with a cup of coffee. "Elizabeth? Are you okay?" She asks. "Uh y-yeah yeah. Sorry I was thinking about work." The brunette actress answers.

"Oh okay. Here's your coffee. A latte with an extra one espresso shot and almond milk." She offers as she smiles. "Oh Katie, wow uh. You shouldn't have." Lizzie is surprised that she brought a coffee the way she likes and answers awkwardly.

"No, please. I insist. I thought you'd love one so I texted y/n to ask you what you would like." Katie explains. Lizzie accepts the cup of coffee and her gaze jumps between you and Katie as she thanks her. "Oh okay. Thank you. That was nice of both of you." Lizzie smiles awkwardly. Katie answers with a hum and you nod without a word at Lizzie when she glances thanking you then continue doing the fitting. Waves of feelings come to her, flooding her mind.

You didn't ask her if she wants coffee or what coffee she wants. You still know her very well and remember what she likes. That thought alone spreads warmth in her heart but her mind gets overfilled with memories you both had as soon as her coffee brushed her taste buds. Memories of mornings and breakfasts she had with you that she took for granted. Or the coffee dates that in the last year in her relationship with you she no longer came because she thought it was stupid.

It's crazy how a sip of coffee can instantly feel like a hit in her guts and a slap on her face, not to mention makes her feel stupid for doing what she did to you. Regrets definitely wrap her mind and heart. Her heart feels heavy when she sees your smile when you talk with Katie.

Everything she feels right now is suddenly replaced by anger and jealousy when she hears Katie ask you about the scar on your slightly above your lower belly as she touches it then runs her fingers on it. “What happened? How did you get this scar?”

Lizzie is nervous and jealous. “Oh, this.. It was from—” You got interrupted by Claire, one of the wardrobe crew coming into the room then stands in front of you doing what she needs to do to the clothing you are wearing. “Sorry, y/n. I need you to stay still so I can get the perfect size for you.” said the lady who was holding a tape measure. Hearing that, Katie moves away from you to give her some room. She sits next to Lizzie.

“That scar–uh y/n got into an accident at the theater where she used to play. It was an old theater, the stage collapsed when she was doing a rehearsal. Something like a huge metal scratch her pretty deep.When I got there after they called me, she was already all bleeding. I was with her on the ambulance ride. Thank God it was nothing serious though.” Lizzie told the woman next to her.

“Yeah and you end up passing out from the motion sickness after the ride and from seeing my blood. You looked paler than I was.” You chuckle from the memory so does Lizzie with a small smile, looking at you. “Well, can you blame me? I never knew the ambulance ride was gonna be that rough plus you bled quite a lot.” Lizzie replies. “It was embarrassing, I woke up on the emergency bed next to hers.” She turns her head to her left and tells her more about what happened. “Really? I bet after that y/n took her turn and got worried about you?” Katie responds with a smile shortly before you called her to come and see the outfit. Then Lizzie looks away to a random spot trying to stop all the memories of how you always worry about her, how much you cared about her. All voices around her sound muffled.

“Uh Lizzie? It’s your turn now.” Claire’s voice brought Lizzie’s attention back. “Oh yeah, okay.” She answers as she stands up. “Well, I think I’m going to wait outside and maybe look around for a bit.” Katie decided to give Lizzie some privacy. “Wait for me, I’m coming with you, Katie.” You told the older woman as your eyes aimed for your clothes.

“I’m sorry y/n, you still have one more outfit to try.” Claire quickly informs you before you get ready to leave. “Oh okay. I guess I’ll see you when I’m done.” You agree in defeat and give Katie a little wave. “I’ll see you outside.” She replies and winks at you.

You put on your shirt then sit on the couch waiting for your turn. Your eyes keep glancing up to the woman you used to love in front of you. “Uh Liz, this outfit already has bra pads in it so you can take off your bra for this.” Claire explains.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard what Claire said and Lizzie’s voice agreed to it. You tried to lock your stare onto the floor and it only worked for a minute. Just like a strong pull from a massive magnet, your eyes are dragged up to see her. Your mind tries to command your eyes to look away but it is all in vain. You are glued to the view of Lizzie unclasping her bra. You see her bare back facing you then she slides both straps of her shoulders. You clench both of your hands nervously, your legs start gently but rapidly bouncing on the spot as the result of feeling awkward and there it is, your eyes find their way to the reflection from the full body mirror in front of Lizzie that clearly shows the view of her naked front. You feel heat creeping up all over your face, you look down. Just like that, you gave up. You stand up and walk out in a rush. Lizzie heard the door, and then her eyes quickly searched for you only to be disappointed to find out that you walked out.

As soon as you closed the door, you rested your back on the wall next to the door. You lay your head back on the wall. The view that you just saw brings every single memory in split seconds not just the good ones but also the bad ones. You are so affected by the bad memories, anxiety starts to swirl around you, slowly wrapping you like a cocoon. All the pain and sadness from your relationship with her starts to beat your mind, body, and even crush your soul all over again. You try to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “You are okay, y/n. Remember how far you’ve come since you left that day. This is nothing. You are okay.” You whisper to yourself with your eyes shut.

After five minutes standing outside, you are finally back to your calm state. You take another deep breath before you knock on the door and you slowly walk in as soon as you hear her say "Come in."

"Y/n? Why did you knock? You could've just come in. Where did you go?" She told you right after she saw it was you. "Oh--I uh I just wanted to give you some privacy." You answer and go straight to the couch to avoid looking at her. "Oh.." She doesn't know how to respond to what you said.

After another fifteen minutes, Lizzie is done with her turn. Claire told her that she is good to go but of course she stays for you, for her chance to finally talk with you.

You finally did your last wardrobe fitting. "Okay, y/n, you are done. Everything looks good. I'll see you both soon." Claire bids her farewell and leaves the room.

Lizzie watches your every move as you put on your clothes and collects your belongings. She doesn't know what to say but gathers herself to finally say something. "Your coffee,uh, that 's not how you usually have it. Were you just trying to be nice to her or you just didn't want me to be right about it?" She internally curses herself on how she starts the conversation.

She stands behind you waiting for you to say something. You look at her with disbelief and get confused with her malicious comment. "Things change, Elizabeth." Your answer was flat and cold as you turned your back on her again and got your things. Her heart aches from how you use her first name.

"Just like how you call me by my first name now?" She answers as she tries to ignore her pain. You turn around in annoyance but your heart skitters as you see your promise ring again, hanging between her collarbone and her chest that almost makes you speechless. "Why does it matter, Liz?" You answer her question with another question in exasperation, looking away from the necklace but your eyes are addicted to her. You look up to her green eyes.

You see her eyebrows furrowed in sadness. "It does matter, y/n. Only strangers call me by my first name. You know that. Is this how you try to remind me that we are not together anymore? That we are strangers? Let me tell you, y/n. It doesn't work. We are not strangers. You will never be a stranger to me." She rants, the more she talks the shakier her voice becomes. Her muscles tensed. She quivers with indignation. Sorrow shredded her inside. She looks away for a little bit then locks her gaze back at yours. Her eyes gleamed

You scoffed. "Oh really, Liz? Then how come in the last year of our relationship I felt like we were total strangers?" You answer slowly with gritted teeth. Her breath hitched, your response cut her deep. "Yeah, you heard me. That was exactly how I felt, Liz." You add then end it with calling her nickname with a sarcastic tone to prove her the irony of everything she said. You could hardly move, you gave up on trying to look away from her. You intently look at her.

She swallows hard and blinks a few times without letting you go off her sigh. Her heart wrenches. She knows it was all her fault for letting everything fall apart in the relationship to the point that you left her.

Being a kind and sweet person you are and like it or not, you can't look at her being sad. Your exasperation starts to evaporate. You take a deep breath and talk with a softer tone.

"Look, Liz.." You pause. Lizzie closes her eyes for a few seconds and cherishes your voice calling her name. If she could ask you to say her name over and over again, she would. She opens her eyes again, looking at you.

"I didn't know that you got a role in this movie. All I--" You got interrupted by a question she pitched at you in a low voice. "What would you do--" Before Lizzie can finish her question, you instantly cut her off with your question.. "What would I do what, Liz?"

"What would you do if you knew I got a role in this movie? Would you refuse it because I'm in it?" She asks you in a shaky voice. Anticipating your answer is killing her. You didn't expect her question.

"Whether I knew or not, you already accepted this role and so did I, okay? All I want--" You still try to keep yourself to talk in a calm manner, but she interrupts you one more time.

"So you would?" She asks you, despair written all over her face.

"Oh my God, Liz. I don't know, okay?! Would you??" You shook your head as you answered. Your annoyance flares, your tone slips and slightly rises but not that loud for people to hear it from outside of the room.

Lizzie flinches from your question at the end of your answer. Her heart slowly beats in agony because of it. She bites the inside of her cheeks. Both her brain and her heart force her tongue to not answer you and it hurts her. She knows her own answer will hurt her.

You stand there, you intently lock your gaze with her and she helplessly lets her gaze caught by you. You subconsciously wait for her answer. Silence dominates everything at this point. It’s undeniably deafening. Her brows drew together. Sorrow and torment scream silently when she slightly opens her lips to say something but once again, she is betrayed by her own body, no words make its way out of her lips. You are fighting the urge to ask her again because you know you don’t need her answer, at least that’s what your brain is secretly trying to convince your heart about.

You know she is trying to hold back her tears. She swallows the despair away but it quickly floats to her heart. It stings, it hurts and this is all too much for her to bear on the second time she sees you after a while . In one blink she did, a drop of tear escaped her eyes as her head slowly facing down. You see her fidgeting with her promise ring in her finger and of course it reminds you that she wears yours close to her heart. It cracks your heart that you've been trying to mend its pieces in the past one and a half years. You always hated it when she cried, surprisingly you still hate it today. Should you be surprised about it? You don’t know anymore.

You take one deep heavy breath to regain your heart foundation. You awkwardly take a step closer to her and start to speak softly. “Look, Liz. Like I said earlier, it doesn’t matter what the answer is. You took the role in this movie, so did I. I just want us to be focused on it, NOT our past, as we should. I’m sure that you know that’s what we are supposed to do now…” You pause and swallow the lump in the back of your throat to internally convince yourself that it’s okay to say the next thing you are going to say.

“And if you can do it, we can get coffee after this. Maybe to discuss work or our scripts.” You cleared your throat. She wipes her tears off her cheeks before she lifts her head up slowly so it won’t be too obvious that it actually catches her attention. She is actually surprised that you invited her for a coffee after this small argument both of you just had.

She slides both of her hands in her back pocket and stands nervously. Her feet start to shift randomly. “Uh, y-yeah. Sure.” If she can be honest to you right now, she doesn’t even know what to feel now. Her glance starts to jump to one random spot then to another but back to you. She feels like she is on a roller coaster ride but she can’t scream no matter how much she wants to.

“But Liz..” She hears your voice and it stops her pondering mind as she looks at you confused with what are you going to say. “Huh?”

“Just don’t leave me hanging like last time.” You smirk, knowing that she for sure gets what you meant, she is embarrassed of what she did to you that night. She doesn’t even have a chance to answer your remarks, you walk out of the room. She can barely move for a moment, her knees weakened. She slowly sits down, head hangs down and her hands cover her face. Then she whispers to herself the answer to her own question that she didn’t say earlier. “I would refuse the role if I knew, y/n.” She takes a deep breath then quickly stands up and walks out to see you outside.

Her eyes search for you as soon as she gets outside. She finds you smoking and talking to Katie. She doesn’t mind that you talk to her but as soon as she sees her touch your arms and lean on you, jealousy thunders through her. Her hand squeezes into a fist. Her blood rushed faster instantly as the result of her heart beating faster.

You take notice that Lizzie is starring and you tell Katie that you will see her tomorrow. She sweetly agrees and bids you farewell. She softly kisses your cheeks before she says bye to Lizzie. All Lizzie manages to do is just patching a forced half smile and a small wave to Katie but her glare never stops following her as she leaves until you break the staring contest between her and Katie’s back.

“So, where are you taking me now, Liz?” You tease her and get her caught off guard, not having any idea where to take you. “Oh– Um.. I–I” She stuttered.

“I’m just joking with you, I know a nice place. So, come on.” You gesture your head to the direction you want her to walk to. Lizzie lets out an awkward laugh, gently hits the back of her hand to your arm then shifts her steps to follow you to the car. Her heart is pounding, she feels heat spreads all over her body but mainly she is nervous.

Ch. 5 - Unspoken Questions

A/N: Well, that's it for today's daily dose of angst, folks! Let me know what you think. Your reblog and comments are appreciated. Follow us for more! See you in next!

Cheerio!

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[etherealeeknow]

the fwb rules

• rated m for mature

• pairing: fwb!hyunjin x fem!reader

• wc: 4.559

• tw: explicit language, light characterization of an insecure reader, unprotected piv sex (stay safe, lovelies!), fingering & oral (f), nipple play, cream pie— i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: last time i said long fic isn’t my forte and this time i’ll still say the same hahahahaha. but still, i hope i don’t disappoint 🥺 please kindly note that english isn’t my first language. therefore, i apologize for any mistakes. feedbacks are always appreciated because i’d love to grow! thank you for waiting and enjoy 💞 pretty banner made by my bestie!! ilysm 😽😽😽

• tag list: @charlieshelves @es-kay-zee @formidxble @oh-my-sparkle @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @lyralurexrattle @hyunsluvv @healinghyunjin @sailorhyunjinz

—

what happened to the rules?

it didn’t start off like this. you can’t remember when exactly you started wondering about the five word question. all you know is that you were one bite away from gobbling a spoonful of jisung’s ice cream when it struck you: since when did you and hyunjin stop going by the rules? he’s been occasionally texting you out of the blue lately just to know what you’re up to, and today he even asked you to stay the night at his, and as much as you want to believe they’re all normal, again, it didn’t start off like this. from the beginning, you and hyunjin have come up with three rules so your relationship can work: one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking. but look at you now, lying naked and out of breath under his blanket while facing his ceiling, driving yourself insane over the haunted question. you have to get it off your chest somehow, but how? 

“hey, why so serious?” asks the culprit behind your overthinking, causing you to jump slightly over his sudden appearance and your hands instinctively pull up the blanket to cover your naked chest, which as a result, makes him chuckle. cute. “here. it’s my cousin’s,” adds the topless man as he sits on the edge of the bed and hands you a white shirt that even under the dim light, you can already tell won’t fit you.

“your cousin? the model? hyunjin, she’s tiny,” you utter, hands still gripping onto the blanket. “i’m—“

“you,” he cuts you off, placing a hand on top of yours while carefully glancing at you to make sure you there aren’t any signs of discomfort. “are fine, y/n. now hurry up. i’m sleepy,” he adds before letting go, leaving behind a lingering warmth on your knuckles.

nodding, you turn your back on him to change, and the room falls silent, causing you to hear how fast your heart is thumping even more than it should have. is it because you had too much coffee this morning? or it can probably be because the shirt is too tight that it’s cutting off your air circulation, right? right, of course. you tell yourself because as much as you dislike both reasons, they are still far better than having hyunjin as the cause.

once you’re done, hyunjin already has his back lying against the bedhead, his head tilting slightly to the side, avoiding the light coming from the night lamp on the bedside table, while his eyes bore deeply into yours. unbothered that he’s been caught staring, he averts his gaze downwards till they reach your chest and spot how your nipples are sticking out through the thin fabric.

“see? it fits you just fine,” he says, turning his vision back to your face as he opens his arms and motions them at you, only to have you remain in the same position with your increasing heartbeat.

“aren’t you gonna, uh, wear something?”

instead of a proper answer, all you get is his laugh—hyunjin’s contagious laugh that usually always succeeds in making you laugh too. but today hits differently. has his laugh always sounded this lighthearted before? no matter what the answer is, one thing for sure is that despite how sweet hwang hyunjin and his laugh are, they have never made your cheeks burn like this before, and this is forbidden. it’s against the rules.

“an hour ago we were naked while sucking each other’s face, y/n,” he finally answers after a while. “besides, i always sleep like this. now, come on,” he adds, repeating the same gesture, except this time his hands are open wider, eager to have you near him again because the space around him is starting to make him feel lonely.

complying with him, you fall into his embrace and hyunjin immediately lets his hands travel to the exact places of where they want to be—one around your head and the other around your waist. despite the room turning less cold with his warmth directly passing onto you, your heart and cheeks conditions remain the same especially since you can hear how hyunjin’s heartbeats are beating just as fast as yours when he lets you lay your head on his chest.

“hyunjin,” you call out, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“y/n,” he replies, replacing the collar with his fingers instead, intertwining them with yours.

what happened to the rules?

“do... do fwb do these?” you ask, the bravery in you finally decide to show up, even just for a little.

“do this?” he asks back while squeezing your hand with all his might, as if he’s nervous.

no. not ‘this’, but ‘these’. not only the hand grabbing, but also the fact that he asked you to stay the night, that he’s cuddling you to sleep, and that you’ve been getting unusual symptoms over them until this very moment.

“yes, this,” you nod and hyunjin becomes muted, but his heartbeats are growing louder, and his grip on you has become tighter.

after what feels like forever, he whispers, voice slightly cracking, and hands getting a little colder, “yes. yes, they do.”

then the two of you become muted, but both heartbeats keep growing louder, and everything stays that way until sleep eventually takes over.

—

as a homebody, you’ve always against the idea of sleepovers. you believe home is the sweetest place and your own bed is the comfiest even when your mattress is older than a decade and your favorite plushie has had too many holes here and there. but waking up in hyunjin’s bed has broken your stigma—never in your whole life that you’d have thought someone else’s bed can provide you twice the comfort.

“looks like someone had a good sleep,” chirps jisung as he sits beside you, causing you to wipe off the smile on your face before going back to your laptop.

“wow suddenly my best friend’s a psychic?”

“hey, that’d actually make a great drama title!” he exclaims and you roll your eyes. “please do spill the tea though. what happened?” he adds.

“what happened?” you ask back, eyes still on the screen, but the corner of your lips are on the verge of breaking into the smile, knowing full well he’ll complain—which he does by lamely calling you a meanie.

laughing, you tell him nothing happened, but the way he rolls his eyes is a sign he’s not taking any of your bullshit. you are telling the truth though. besides spending the night with each other, nothing really happened, right? it was just another casual fucking session. yes, it was amazing, but that’s no news for jisung. the guy’s practically your wingman—setting you up with hyunjin was his idea because he believes you should, “live your life. have that dreamy college sex orelse you’ll regret it like my old man changbin!”

right on cue, a notification popped out on your big screen, and the sender’s name makes your heart pop too.

“aha, see!” jisung points at it. “y/n, where are you?” he reads out loud, earning yourselves all the eyes from every other student in class.

“oh my god, jisung. shut up!” right when you’re about to log out from the chat app, hyunjin sends another one.

“can i call you?” jisung reads once more and you’re only one second away from smacking his head, but your vibrating phone holds you back.

shooting jisung a glare, you make sure to close your laptop before leaving the class, answering hyunjin’s call even when you’re still half way through the door. right when you’re about to greet him hello, hyunjin beats you to it—his voice a bit raspy, but the softness in his tone still lies within, and it creates endless questions in your mind.

has he just woken up? so is this how he sounds in the morning? why is he calling?

and the list goes on because this isn’t like hyunjin at all. sure, he’s not validating the rules, but he’s breaking his character despite already alarming you to anticipate morning booty calls from him at times. he’s never actually done that though. 

“hi,” you reply, startling yourself with how small your voice came out.

“you left,” says hyunjin and you can hear him sighing from the other line, which somehow causes a slight pang in your heart, wondering if perhaps he is disappointed. “can you come back? wait, actually, let me go to you instead.” he says and you can hear the rustling sounds coming from his side.

“hyunjin, i have class. that’s why i left. i—” should you apologize? but why should you? casual, no strings attached, and no fucks given, remember? “i’m sorry.”

“oh.” hyunjin stops on his track before plopping back down onto the bed, smiling. “i’ll pick you up after class then. when will you finish?”

unconsciously, a smile creeps up your face too, but the realization hits you right after, then followed by the five word question, and you know—you know this is your guts telling you that now’s the time to ask him about it, but your heart hates confrontation. plus, wouldn’t it be rude to reply to someone else’s question with a question? “hyunjin, are you, uh, horny?”

just like yesterday, hyunjin laughs, and with the raspiness in his voice still present, he doesn’t fail to make you laugh along, but at the same time waking the butterflies in your stomach and makes you rethink your decision. mayhaps, you should’ve left him a note or told him that you’ll leave early in the morning; or even, you should’ve ditched classes today and stayed so when he wakes up, you can get him a glass of water, not leaving the boy uncared for like this. but who are you to do so? 

“isn’t it normal for a guy to have a morning wood?” he jokes before quickly adding that he’s not horny. “i just want to see you so let me go get you.”

pressing your lips together, you contemplate on whether you should let him. if you do, won’t you be turning whatever the two of you have right now into something far more complicated? but it’s only until hyunjin adds a desperate “please?” that all of your dilemma disappears, as if you’re being cast into his spell—“okay.”

—

while heading to the gate, you have the biggest urge to book a massage appointment. dodging jisung’s questions and running away from him after the first period was draining, but having to spend the day running back and forth between two buildings because thinking that volunteering as the lecturers’ teaching assistant was draining on a whole new level. other than feeling like your legs are gonna come off, your mind also feels like it’s gonna blow off—you can’t stop recalling all the things you need to start working on as soon as possible, but stepping into hyunjin’s car turns everything to 180 degrees.

you’d like to think that it’s because of the faint lavender aroma coming from his car freshener along with the heavenly cool air conditioner, but no. you know full well it’s because of the way hyunjin’s smile lit up, his eyes disappear into two small crescent moons, and his blonde hair which is becoming one with the warm orange sky that brings peace to your heart.

“hi,” he breathes out the moment you close the door, and you do the same except for looking at him, which causes hyunjin to furrow his eyebrows while speeding away.

the way home is silent, just the way you like it, but you know full well that it’s not hyunjin’s cup of tea. he doesn’t need to say it, his action is showing it all as he’s been fidgeting non stop, wiping his sweaty palm along his jeans while occasionally licking his plump lips. hyunjin’s a very vocal person. he’s talkative and loud—including in bed. you press your warm cheeks over the realization of your own thoughts, embarrassed. you can’t possibly suspect hyunjin for being horny in the morning when you yourself are being like this in the afternoon. it’s uncalled for.

noticing you from the corner of his eye, hyunjin calls out, asking you if there’s anything wrong, totally catching you off guard. what should you say? lying is not your forte, but being honest clearly isn’t the best option right now, at least, not before you shower and appear presentable in front of him—but wait, since when did that matter so much? a few months ago, you even fucked after you ran a marathon.

“y/n?” calls hyunjin for the second time.

“look, hyunjin, really, it’s okay if you’re horny. you can pull over and i can, uh, relieve you and i can just take the bus home after,” you spit out shamelessly while looking at him straight in the eyes, eager to get far away from hyunjin as fast as possible before you go out of your mind.

just like the night before, hyunjin laughs. and just like the night before, his laugh hits differently and it does nothing other than burning your already burnt cheeks for the worse.

“i swear to god, y/n, i’m not horny. i genuinely want to take you home. nothing more,” explains hyunjin, head straight at the road but eyes repeatedly stealing glances at you. “and nothing less,” he adds, voice barely audible but you caught it.

“o— oh.” is all you manage to respond before the ride quickly turns quiet and hyunjin’s hands begin fidgeting again, all the while you’re trying to decode what he has just said—what does he mean by genuinely wanting to take you home? do fwb do this too? what happened to no fucks given?—and it goes on until hyunjin hits the break in front of your old apartment building.

“we’re here,” says hyunjin, breaking the silence by unlocking the car door.

“we’re here,” you repeat after him, already opening the door and setting a foot out. “uh, thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” hyunjin shoots you his signature smile the moment you lower yourself to meet his eye level from outside the car; this time, you have no choice but to fall under his spell.

“hey, uh, you wanna come in?” you ask, biting your lower lip as a way to punish yourself for being so indecisive. one second you want to run away from him and the next second you want to be near him. come on, get a grip.

as if the punishment isn’t enough, hyunjin declines your offer, all while chuckling with his head thrown back. “for the third time, y/n. i’m not horny. go in and rest up.” 

“if you say so.” you shrug, giving him a small smile before turning around, making sure not to look back, only to fail when you hear the engine driving away.

—

you can’t quite tell—no, you can’t tell. you don’t get it. there’s an unexplainable empty space in your heart that is caused by hyunjin’s rejection. is it because you’re just not used to see him without having to fuck him? or is it because you’re hurt over the fact that he’s not in the mood to touch you? is it because of last night? is he finally sick of your flaws? things would probably be different if you had retouched your makeup or at least combed your hair before seeing him, would they? either way, you’re fully aware you shouldn’t be torn over your friend with benefits, yet your aching heart says otherwise.

and so when the doorbell rings only a few seconds after you get in and the figure you see through the peephole is no other than the man in question, you spare no time to swing the door open. hyunjin, in return, spares no time to lock his lips with yours right after he utters a brief apology. just like the way hyunjin sneaks his playful hands down your ass, you sneak your tongue in his mouth, and your action makes him smile into the kiss as he leads you back into the room and kicks the door shut with his long legs.

the way to your bedroom is actually pretty short, but with your tongues moving in sync, bodies pressing—glued, even, and eyes continuously closing in pleasure, the short way to your bedroom consists of endless stumbling, tripping, and bumping the door. once inside, you break the kiss and are about to undress yourself when hyunjin beats you to it, settling you down on the bed as he begins taking off your attire one by one ever so effortlessly. and in just a matter of seconds, his lips are back on yours again, floral scented hair falling and brushing against your cheeks, leaving you no time to wonder over the fact that it’s the first time hyunjin has ever undressed you. 

as the kiss continues, you can feel yourself gushing more and more that you start grinding on him mindlessly, needing to feel more than just his bulge poking you. your hands leave his blonde strands to tug on his hoodie, only to have him stop you—one hand around your grip and the other rests on your hip.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“need you. need to feel you,” you mumble, desperation so visible through your cracked voice. 

“what happened to the girl who was all flustered to sleep with me last night just because i was shirtless?”

autumn nights aren’t supposed to be hot, but hyunjin has proven he has the power to make the impossible happen just with his words and mocking smirk. but the rising heat on your cheeks is nothing compared to the emptiness you feel below, clenching around nothing surely isn’t the best feeling.

“please, jinnie,” you whine, tugging on his hoodie once more, hips moving against his hold.

“fuck.” is all he manages to say before getting off the bed to disrobe himself—hoodie and track pants thrown across the room, now showcasing his toned body and thighs altogether as he hovers over you.

“please take this off too. it looks suffocating,” you say, index finger running faintly through the bulge forming from his tight boxer, making it stand up even more and hyunjin has no choice but to obey you. “put your hair up too please,” you add just when he’s about to dive right back in, and again, your wish is his command.

biting to pull off his hair tie from his wrist, hyunjin smoothly ties his hair back and you’re only given a few seconds to admire his feature before his plump lips coming in contact with your hardened nipple while he toys with the other using his fingers—rubbing and pinching, making your breath hitch over the sensation, fingers digging into his bare shoulders because you don’t want to mess up his hair, and hyunjin’s low grunts pretty much indicate he’s loving it.

“more, please. give me m—”

hyunjin retreats his hand and tongue away from your breast, moving them to your naked pussy,  drawing circles on your outer labia with his middle finger. he teases you just enough and quickly slides in his digit and at the same time sucks on your clit right before you’re about to complain, making you tingle from head to toe.

“you hear that?” he asks, voice muffled, the effect of being too tongue tied from licking every part of your heat, but finger working its magic perfectly, creating loud wet noises from your fluid. “drenched. my pretty y/n is drenched,” says hyunjin, and as much as you want to comment on him for the pet name, you’re too caught up on how his lips vibrate against you the moment he starts palming himself with his unoccupied hand. if he keeps it up, you know you would come undone there and then, and you don’t want that—not yet. so you ask him to stop and he instantly does as told.

“what’s wrong? did i hurt you?” there’s fear written across his expression and heard from his tone, but you’d like to believe your eyes and lips are just playing tricks on you.

“n— no. i just,” you pause to avoid his gazes, but something within you pulls your attention back on him. “i wanna cum with you inside me,” you confess, voice barely audible due to embarrassment; all this time, it’s always been hyunjin to say such things, but perhaps, all the strange tension lately has finally gotten the best of you. you hear him mutter a low “fuck” while his pupils shakes for a brief moment before they somehow appear a shade darker. licking his lower lip, hyunjin pulls you by your legs and rests them on his shoulders, and proceeds to align his tip with your entrance, once again teasing your throbbing core.

the moment you whine is the moment hyunjin pushes himself inside ever so gently, but the stretching still has you throwing your head back, while hyunjin letting our airy moans upon your walls clenching around him. none of you can tell how it’s possible for your vagina to remain so tight after all the countless fucking session for the past half year, but hyunjin doesn’t find that troubling. in fact, he lives for that and it shows from the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he begins thrusting in and out of you—slowly but steady, veiny hands secured on your hips, vision goes back and forth from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

hyunjin leans down to kiss you for a couple of seconds, and when he lets go, he quickens his pace—leaning down once more so his length can go deeper in you, hitting your g-spot. at that very moment, you mentally praise yourself for placing the bedroom mirror right across the bed. it presents you with the magnificent view of hyunjin’s rounded, firm ass bouncing rhythmically whenever he snaps his hips, and placing your hands around them, squeezing them, nearly makes you drool over the sight. with hyunjin constant thrusts, the familiar knot in your abdomen starts to bubble up.

“oh my god,” the two of you whimper in unison as hyunjin begins to lose his tempo, moves also grow sloppy, but never once misses your spot.

“y/n, i— ah— i’m so close. fuck,” he breathes out, sweat forming on his forehead, wetting his baby hair down to his neck and chest, and you can only drool helplessly at the sight.

“me too. please cum inside me, cum with me, hyunjin, please, please,” you beg, voice a pitch higher, almost sounds like you strain your throat, and it stays the same. when you feel hyunjin twitch inside you, your hands automatically reach for the bed sheet again, but it only lasts for a second before they’re being taken by hyunjin’s own hands—he has never done this. while intertwining your fingers, his cock twitches again and his eyes roll to the back of his head, jaw falls open as he calls out your name—you naturally do the same, fingers pressing flat against his white knuckles

“hyu—”

“cum, baby,” he cuts you off, averting his hazy eyes on you, and that’s all it takes for you to break—your orgasm washes over you like waves and you cum undone around hyunjin, shaking and mewling altogether while feel the wet coldness around your inner thigh. hyunjin follows right after, shooting his hot cement inside of you; the man can no longer keep his eyes open as he buries his face on the crook of your neck, his choked moans bring music right to your ear all a while his hot breaths bring goosebumps to your unrecovered body.

after riding out your highs, none of you move. hyunjin stays on top of you, his chest rises and falls according to your hard breathing. somehow, it’s calming you down, but it shouldn’t.

“hyunjin, you’re heavy.”

“oh, sorry,” he chuckles and even without looking, you can tell his eyes are smiling too. with his remaining strength, hyunjin pushes himself up and rests on your thighs to pull his dick out of you, momentarily admiring the mixture of his juice and yours dripping down your cunt before fixing his eyes on you to study your face—also something he has never done before. 

“i’m sorry,” he mutters a few moments later, eyes now on you.

tilting your head, you sit up, resting your upper body with your hands on the bed. “all of a sudden? i came? you always make me feel good.”

“that’s what i’m sorry about. i— i didn’t mean to— i mean, i—”

you reach out to him, gently patting his thigh. “hyunjin, calm down. this isn’t like you,” you whisper the last sentence, knowing that perhaps, now’s the time to talk things out, to stop whatever is going on, and go back to how things are used to be, maybe? your heart’s just been restless for too long and apparently, hyunjin seems to be in a similar situation too.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to keep using you like this. i genuinely meant what i said. i only wanted to take you home, but we ended up here and—”

“isn’t that what fwb do?” you pull your hand off his thigh, and a frown painted across his face as if he’s questioning your question. “that’s what we agreed on. we have our fwb rules, remember?”

“one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking,” says hyunjin, proving he has memorized every words to the back of his mind.

nodding, you carefully bring back your hand to his thigh, repeating the same movement you did before. “exactly. so you don’t have to be sorry. don’t worry, i’m not feeling used at all.” you end it with a smile.

hyunjin mirrors you, he smiles too; his eyes fall to where your hand is. “but what if i’m breaking them? the rules,” asks the boy whose cold hand is now on top of your warm one. “what if i like you?” his eyes find their way back to you, and that’s when you know. the difference between your temperatures; the difference between your smile and his—the sadness that lies within.

that’s when you understand. everything finally makes sense; every one of hyunjin’s unusual acts. the constant texts and calls, the undressing, the pet names, the facial expression, the hand holding.

what happened to the rules? feelings. that’s what happened. to hyunjin, it’s his feelings over the rules.

but you, what about you? the butterflies, the irregular increasing heartbeats, the flushing cheeks, the overthinking, the disappointment at some point.

“y/n,” hyunjin calls out and you don’t get to get back to him because he’s already an inch away from you, momentarily eyeing your lips before he closes the distance. once again, his blonde hair falls down, brushing against his cheek before meeting yours and it tickles you, but not in the same way as how his kiss tickles your heart; giddy.

what happened to the rules? unwanted feelings. that’s what happened. to you, it’s the unwanted feelings against the rules. and for now, the unwanted feelings are too strong for you to push him away, so you pull him close instead. for now.

—

gen’s masterlist

repeating this!! special note: HUGE THANK YOU for my awesome bestie for the banner 🥺💞💞 ily, bish!! thank you for being my beta reader too 😽😽😽

[yandere-sins]

One More

Genshin makes my imagination vibrate pleasantly. I just want to give Kaeya a reason to make me go “Oh?” cause he’s not even my one of my favs. But the sheer sex appeal coming from that man is dangerous.

Characters: Kaeya Alberich (Genshin Impact) x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Groping, Innuendos, Alcohol, Aphrodisiacs, Insults

»»———————— ♡ ————————««        

“Hey there, Sweetheart. What’s bringing you to the tavern so late at night?”

You had barely entered Angel’s Share and sat down at the bar before hearing the ever-so chipper voice of the cavalry captain drawing closer. There was nothing strange about meeting Kaeya here after a long day of work, but you and Charles exchanged a glance, the bartender sighing deeply. “I’ve only served him two drinks so far,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but think that was already one too many. 

But who were you to say no to the Kaeya?

Perhaps better than anyone, Kaeya knew about the little game you two were playing. The always so icy shoulder you gave him as he continued to pressure you with his flirts was only making him want you so much more. You couldn’t count the number of times he had stopped you in the headquarters, pinned you between him and the wall - in broad daylight nonetheless - asking how you’re doing and if you need help with anything. You. Were. Sick of it! If he wanted a child to play father for, he could ask Klee to hang out with him! You, on the other hand, were a remarkable knight, trusted enough with complicated orders that - luckily! - kept you out of the city for a prolonged time so you could avoid him. 

It only was hard when you weren’t on duty. Or in the city. Or close to him. 

That’s when he became frisky, rather needy too.

Kaeya brushed his face from the left side of your head to the right, taking a deep breath. If it wasn’t known that you two reached back all the way to your training days, anyone would have raised an eyebrow. But most of the other guards were able to brush off his weirdness for affectionate friendship. It was almost like only you could see behind the farce, and perhaps his estranged brother. Not like Diluc had been any help to you, though, aside from breaking Kaeya off you once or twice when he was around and noticing your discomfort.

Taking up the stool beside you, there was no prior question if the seat was taken. A rather empty keg arrived with Kaeya at the bar, and he briefly tapped the rim until Charles fished for another bottle of alcohol to fill it up with. One could say Kaeya and a drink were a good mix, but to you, they were a terrible combination. Drinking made him bold. Unrestrained even. 

Even though he offered his keg to you, you merely looked away, sipping at your own glass, one you much rather preferred to the brew he drank his night away with. Grinning, he instead took a hearty sip, leaning against the counter leisurely as he watched the bards perform near the entrance, but you didn’t miss even a single glance he sent your way every few seconds. 

It was very unfortunate that you liked Angel’s Share for its drinks best; otherwise, you’d have had a good reason to avoid the establishment. But at the same time, you couldn’t let Kaeya direct all of your life. It was no state that you shouldn’t do what you enjoyed just because he could be there, and yet, you considered it. 

“So, how was your mission? I’ve been missing your skills at training.”

“It was fine,” you answered curtly, uninterested in the conversation he initiated. There weren’t many people you talked to when you came back to Mondstadt. Somehow… it had always been hard for you to make friends with the other knights. Part of you suspected Kaeya being a reason why no one seemed to want to hang around, forcing you to spend most of your training with him since no one was willing to spar with you. Then again, you never had any evidence to confirm your suspicion, just like with many other phenomena you experienced over the years.

More than once had there been instances where your orders had been withdrawn just when you came close to solving the problems, often with the excuses that you were still too inexperienced or needed somewhere else. It had been so hard to raise in the ranks while Kaeya seemed to make leaps forward without a worry, but at least, you managed to secure your place now--one far away from the cavalry captain.

Sighing, Kaeya turned around to face the counter again, plopping his arm around your shoulders. Uncomfortably, you rolled your joints, but he instead pulled you closer to him, the smell of alcohol drafting off his lips as he spoke. “No need to play coy. You know you can tell me the truth. Didn’t you miss being home? I’m sure cleaning up those camps must have been exhausting!”

Missed being with me? seemed to be the words he wanted to say, but he packaged them in a way he knew they’d actually affect you. Kaeya had always been clever enough to poke the places that hurt. Of course, you missed home. You’d miss it more if not for him, but you had your family here, your siblings and parents that you’d like to see more often. But there was no chance with how much Kaeya liked to interfere in it. As if he was already part of your family, inviting himself and always showing up unannounced to hang out.

“‘Twas okay,” you replied after a moment of thought. 

“Well, I missed you,” he chuckled before taking another sip of his keg. “I missed you sooo much!”

That was enough for you, brushing his arm off roughly before turning on your stool to leave. You knew even finding another space to sit wouldn’t spare you from him, and if you ended up in a less crowded area, you didn’t want to imagine what he’d do. “Aw, come on,” you heard behind you as he gripped your arm, making you stop. “I get it, I get it, you’re tired. But you can’t be tired enough not to drink one more with your old pal, right?”

With his voice rising in volume, you two finally gained some attention, and you instantly felt a rush of embarrassment as you stared into quite a few pairs of perplex eyes. Kaeya might have been eccentric, but he was well-liked nonetheless. Causing a scene had never worked well for you, and since you were already deemed an outsider, you’d only catapult yourself more into the shadows if any rumors spread after you left. 

Clicking your tongue, you tore yourself out of his grip before sitting back on your chair again, holding up your finger. “One more. Only one more.”

“Of course,” Kaeya grinned, getting his will once again. “Only one.”

»»————— ♡

Hot lips brushing against each other, you had no better way to describe your state of being other than burning. For someone so cool and with an icy skill, Kaeya was not even close to being cold and reserved when it came to touching you. With a smile displayed on his mouth whenever he wasn’t using it to tease you, you could barely remember how you two ended up making out in one of the backstreets of Mondstadt. His hands were seemingly everywhere, and at the same time, lingered at the spots that created an audible cue from you when he squeezed them. 

“You’re so sensitive,” he noted as you hung in his arms, hands currently squeezing your ass from your thighs upwards. “That’s good, I like that.”

“Fucker,” you merely cursed back. “You only said one more drink! I feel like shit! What the hell was that?”

“On the contrary, you feel amazing,” he ignored your questions, pushing his leg between yours as he pressed you closer to the cold stone wall behind you. A welcome sensation, giving you back some of your senses as the chill helped to calm your heated body. “I fucking hate you, Kaeya,” you confessed drunkenly, but the time was as good as any to say it.

“Ouch,” he brushed it off with a chuckle. “Are you sure? Your body grinding against mine is giving me very different vibes, Darling.”

Next thing, he was back in your mouth, his tongue roaming and keeping yours busy as you slung your arms around him. “You’re so stupid and mean, always testing everyone. You’re probably the reason everyone is avoiding me too, and you don’t let off no matter how much I tell you to leave me alone!”

“Mhm,” he hummed as his lips wandered down your neck, making you stretch it out for him so he could reach better. “And now... I don’t even know! You drugged me?!” 

A soft laugh escaped him before you felt a suck at your collarbone, followed by the wet sensation of a tongue tasting your skin. “Bingo, Baby. Lisa really wanted to know what would happen if someone drank this potion and you were all too eager to get it down your throat-”

“To get away from you!” you interrupted him.

“Whatever.”

Finally, Kaeya came up on eye level again, the two of you staring at each other for a moment in silence. 

“Whatever?” you questioned, confused by his reaction. 

“Yeah, whatever. I think kissing you made me swallow at least, hm... half of it too. Even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t be able to stop now, don’t you think?” 

One of the most disgusting grins you had ever seen on the face of a person played around his lips as he pressed up to you, uniting you two in another kiss. Of course, you could stop it! You could, and you would right now. After all, you had allowed it to go on for far too long now! Pressing your hands into his shoulders, Kaeya let out a soft sigh against your lips, his uncovered eye closed as he enjoyed the affection. “One more,” he mumbled as he kissed you again and again, feverishly and impatiently. “I’ve been waiting forever to do this.”

With the excitement of a teenage boy, his hands roamed your body, pulling out the shirt from your trousers to lodge themselves beneath it. Skillful fingertips drew patterns over your skin, up your spine, and down your sides until you were gasping and shivering in his grasp. “Good,” he sighed against your lips, unbothered by you still trying to push him away, only ever flinching as he groped you. “Don’t you already know it? How much you drive me crazy? It’s only fair I drive you crazy too.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about--” you tried to contradict him. But Kaeya was quick to muffle your voice with another deep kiss. Intentionally or not, he met one of your sensitive spots as he explored you, causing a hitched moan to escape you, followed by a satisfied grunt from him. “I’ve been waiting for so long, I can’t have you take it from me now,” he breathed out huskily. 

“I’ll scream!” you threatened him. “Let me go now, Kaeya!”

“Ah-ah,” he rebuked you, one of his hands being freed of groping-duty to cover your mouth. “No one’s going to take you away from me now either. Come one, be good, okay?”

Waiting for the right moment, Kaeya couldn’t endure your angry stare for very long before falling into soft laughter. “All right, all right,” he chuckled before leaning forward brushing his lips against his hand. “One more kiss, okay? I will leave you alone after that.”

Furrowing your brows even more, he interpreted you shaking your head as a ‘no’, letting out a long, “Aww…” 

“Only one more, pretty please?” 

You had to give it to him: persistency was something he didn’t lack. It felt like shooting into your own foot, but part of you just wanted it to be over. You two had kissed so much up till now; how much worse would one more be? And if he let you go afterwards, you could definitely endure it. Lifting up your hand to yank his from your mouth, Kaeya didn’t expect you to take the initiative, looking at you perplexed as you leaned forward to kiss him. No one ever taught you how to kiss, and without his directions, you weren’t actually sure on how any of it worked, but he didn’t seem to mind, humming a pleased tune before returning your awkward smooches.

When was a kiss one kiss? When the lips parted? After the first initial touch? Kaeya’s definition was two minutes of continuous connection between you two, only briefly drawing back for air but never without upholding the contact by biting and pulling on your lip or having your tongue following his out of your mouth into the cold night. He gripped your head tightly in his palms, not allowing you to get away. Only when he let go did you fall back hard against the wall as you two finally broke apart, and you hadn’t noticed how much he had held you up. 

The rich flavor of alcohol on your tongue and his scent in your nose didn’t help with getting a clear mind, but nothing about you made sense anymore. Now that he had let you fall back and away from him, you felt even hotter than before, your body clearly bothered by the lack of stimulation. What part of ‘I wanted none of this’ did you not understand yourself? At least by the throbbing in your abdomen, you could tell that whatever kind of potion he had given to you definitely wasn’t a fun experience, but all the more potent. 

“Hurts, huh?” he laughed across from you. “Oh, fuck off,” you mustered to say, but the pain was obvious by your expression. You were barely able to keep yourself up properly.

“I’d offer my help, but you made it clear you didn’t want it.” The situation must have been really funny to him, only agitating you more. If it at least hadn’t been Kaeya, you might have accepted help, but you knew you’d have to get yourself home now all by yourself in a state of constant heat with no way to resolve it. 

“You caused all of this! You should at least take responsibility without taking advantage of the situation!”

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you decided it was time to step away. There was no use in talking with Kaeya, but the moment your support dwindled, you noticed how wobbly your legs felt, barely capable of holding you up. What had you trained all these years for if a mere potion could make you so incredibly weak? Before you could get back to the wall, one knee gave away, making you sink to the ground where you could barely catch yourself with your hands. 

“It’s really working you hard, isn’t it?” you heard him speak down from above. Squatting to your level, you felt his hand slide through your hair before gripping and lifting your head to face him. “Tell you what: If you ask nicely, I’ll help you. Can’t promise you’ll wake up in your bed tomorrow morning, but a bed nonetheless, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Fuck you,” you hissed back, and he shook his head, disappointed. 

“Try again.”

What choices did you have? Risk the little bit of reputation you still had by being found in the morning, disheveled and drunk from the night before? The knights absolutely hated anything that would ruin their pristine prestige, so much even you knew. You had worked so hard to get where you were, could you really risk all of it? “... please,” escaped you before you could think it through further. 

“What was that?” he teased you, and you wondered why he could still be so clear even after drinking much more than you did and having had a taste of the potion from your lips. “Please help me get home.”

This time, he laughed out loud, obviously amused by how pitiful you had to behave to please him. “One more time. Say it one more time, and say it nice.”

Frustrated, you wished you could have punched him in the face, but you only bit your lip, taking a deep breath before complying. “Please, Kaeya. I need your help to get home. Please help me home!”

Embarrassment was all you could think about as he conditioned you to do as he wanted, but finally, after you did what Kaeya demanded, he petted your head, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before reaching under your arms to pull you up. “Look at you, all cute and begging me for help.”

Quickly being lifted from the ground, you found your new halt by gripping into his shoulders tightly and wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you in front of him. “You’re so adorable!” he chuckled as you clung to him much more in fear of him letting you fall than because you wanted it. He seemed to have similar thoughts, giving you a bit of a scare as he let go of you, having you hang from him by only your own strength, which you didn’t trust anymore. But just as quickly, your horrified expression made him laugh, and he gave your rear a teasing slap. Lucky for you, Kaeya didn’t make you fear any longer, embracing you back and allowing you to sink against him more as he started to make his way through the streets of Mondstadt. From an onlooker’s point of view, it might have seemed like you jumped him out of joy, but really, you clung on as if your life depended on it while Kaeya seemingly enjoyed the hug.

“Just get me home, you Asshole,” you grumbled, but your insults didn’t do any damage to his good mood. “Sure, I’ll get you home,” he replied chipper, but you already had bad thoughts as you heard that.

“At least, the place I call ‘home’,” he confirmed your suspicion, and inwardly, you already admitted defeat even as you punched your fist into his shoulder. 

“You know how it is,” he brushed it off lightly, patting your backside while he climbed the stairs towards the headquarters with seemingly no effort. 

“I can never refuse you or leave you be. I adore you way too much.”

[musings-of-a-rose]

Christmas Writing Prompt 2021

Pairing: Benny Miller x reader

Word Count: 898

Warnings: angst, sad Benny, 1 almost kiss

Prompt: Reunited // “Driving Home For Christmas”

Notes: I’ve never done a writing challenge before, being so new to writing in general, so I thought this would be fun! Thanks to @marvelousmermaid for sharing the list with me and @toomanystoriessolittletime for creating the list!

I used a random name picker with character names I put in, otherwise I know I would write every single one for Frankie.

My personal challenge for this is to write for people other than Frankie AND to keep it short!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Steph’s Christmas Writing Challenge December 2021 Masterlist

Everything had gone wrong in Colombia. What was supposed to be 5 days turned into 2 weeks and Tom dead. No money was brought back, all of the remaining men opting to give it to Tom’s family.

The flight home was silent as the men sat with their thoughts, only speaking to ask if the others wanted a ride home. Instead of heading back to the home that Benny split with Will, he asked to be dropped at your place.

“Are you sure she wants to see you, Benny?”

“I don’t know. But I know I need her.”

Will nodded. “Well, call me if you need me to come get you.”

–

You were standing in the kitchen, having just finished making dinner. You were dancing around in some house clothes, not expecting anyone to come over. You had tossed on an old shirt of Benny’s. Despite your better judgement, you had kept it when you broke up, not quite ready to give up the safety his scent made you feel. If you were honest, the fight you had that day, just 2 months ago, seemed so stupid in retrospect. But you couldn’t bring yourself to call him. There had been so much anger between you both.

Hearing a soft knock at your door, you glance at the stove to make sure all the burners were off before walking to the door. You check the peephole, but the person on the other side has their head down.

You open the door and meet the ocean blue eyes of Benny. He looks like crap - his eyes are red rimmed as if he’d been crying for a long time, his face has scrapes and scratches everywhere, and he looks tired, both mentally and physically. You can tell immediately that something was wrong, his bag tossed over his shoulder sliding slowly down his arm.

“Hey sweetheart. I uh, I know you probably don’t want to see me. But-” he swallows hard and you see him fight back tears “- some shit happened and I just…. I just needed to see you.” His voice cracks on the last 2 words as he looks down at you.

No hesitation, you pull him to you, wrapping your arms around him. You hear his bag drop to the floor as he hugs you back, burying his face in your neck. You feel him more than see him cry, his body wracked with sobs. You massage the back of his head with one hand and his back with the other, saying soothing things to him. Whatever has shaken him must be really bad to have him come here and fall apart.

After a few minutes, you ask “Would you like to come inside?”

He pulls back to stand up and look at you. “You would let me back in?”

You gesture to the shirt you’re wearing. “I never really let you go, Benny.”

You both head inside and he moves his bag inside your home, closing the door behind him. He glances around and sees that everything is pretty much where it was when he was here last, even some of the things he had bought for you.

You bring in some drinks and sit on the couch, motioning for him to join you. “I’m gross from travel, sweetheart.” You shake your head. “I don’t care. Sit down, Benny.” He sits and you both look into the other’s eyes for a few moments before Benny speaks.

“I know I don’t have a right to come here after…the last time I was here. But - some shit happened, some major shit, and I just…I needed to…”

You pull him to you in a tight hug and he finally falls apart fully on you, tears soaking your shirt and his sobs so strong that they shake your body. You hold him while he mourns, your heart breaking. You had never seen Benny act this way. Whatever happened, it must be big. You hear him mumbling into your neck between sobs.

“What?”

He mumbles again.

“I can’t understand you.”

He pulls back only a little to free his mouth. “I should’ve never let you go. My life went to shit after that day.”

You sigh, feeling relief at the fact that he still has feelings for you as you still have them for him. He mistakes the sigh though, and sits up.

“I’ll just go. I didn’t mean to dump on you. I don’t get to do that anymore.” Before he can get up, you grab his hand, making sure he’s looking at you before you confess.

“I should’ve never let you walk out that door. My life has sucked since then too.”

He gives you a small smile and leans in to kiss you, but you put a finger to his lips.

“As much as I want you to kiss me, I know what that will lead to and I don’t think you’re in the headspace to make a decision like that clearly.”

He stares at you for a few more moments, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before he nods. “Thank you,” he whispers out. You pull him to you again, stretching you both out on your couch, holding him while he starts to come to terms with what happened. And he knows he’ll be ok - if you can forgive him, there’s hope that he can forgive himself.

—----

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General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @astoryisaloveaffair @softpedropascal @marvelousmermaid @icanbeyourjedi @livingmydreams13 @theewokingdead @f0rever15elf @mesmorales @sarahmilesbendrix @swol-bear @mrsudontknowme @lovesbiggerthanpride @gallowsjoker @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @sunnshineeexoxo @sara-alonso @giggly-otter @dirtytissuebox @diaryofkali @adventures-of-a-noodle @punkerthanpascal @phandoz

Benny Miller Taglist:

@rebel-fanfare @corrabell

[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.”

[izusun]

Headcanon: Izuku is into DIY.

Hot Take: Izuku would create a long furby. He has a collection of various eldritch creepy long furbies. Katsuki absolutely refuses to go into his room because of them. He would've exploded them by now but that would make Izuku cry.

Other CursedTM Things that Izuku does that makes Katsuki die inside and that Katsuki tries to hide from the rest of Class 1-A:

He's a part of the Vulture Culture community and collects roadkill and dead animals to turn into bones.

He has a collection of shitty All Might hawaiian shirts.

He has a collection of stuffed animals. They all have names ripped from Lovecraft such as "Yawgsathoth" and "Mother of Pus"

He writes fanfiction of the heroes.

He has a giant worm on a string plush, and his room is also decorated with Worms on Strings (you have no idea how much Katsuki had to bribe him not to add worms on strings to his uniform blazer)

He does have a plague doctor mask and will regularly just go out in a cloak and his mask

He cosplays exclusively female heroes, and crossdresses the worst dresses

He basically does art makeup, on his face and the face of Katsuki

"Hey what are you reading?" "Oh, this book on how to cook frogs."

He will eat anything. Including stuff that is on the ground. He has an iron stomach.

The actual reason Izuku hangs up All Might everywhere (it used to be a mix of all heroes) is because once in middle school Katsuki accused him of being straight, so he put him up everywhere and continued the habit, Katsuki hates his room now

- Goblin Anon (otherwise known as Goblin anon projects everything she does or wants to do onto her fav)

HI GOBLIN!!! GENUINELY SCREAMED AT THIS AU BECAUSE WTF

even i would not want to enter the beloved’s (izuku’s) room because of his shit.

i’ve searched up long furbys and i am, simply put, traumatized. i had a collection of furbys when i was a kid but we had to give them away because there’s too much of them. but long furbys? i am very much scared.

there’d be a picture of a long furby under the cut, and i’m genuinely terrified of the fucker.

also, can i just say that izuku writing fanfictions is the least cursed thing that he does? because like, reading the rest is like looking at that picture where you can’t decipher a single thing because, again, wtf izuku.

but they’re also funnier? creepier? because i can genuinely see izuku doing those dhekdoowks

✄┈┈┈

this shit would probably be snaking around the frames of izuku’s door. or he probably has one at the corner of his wall, the one that meets with the ceiling, and when a visitor looks up, they’re greeted by the sight of this centipede looking furby that has additional four eyes that izuku lovingly and carefully sewn on. it’s so nightmarish :’)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the vulture culture part started when they were young. his interest started when he saw a documentary on how to pin butterflies and he was like, “you know what? thats actually something i want to do!” but! BUT!! he cannot catch a butterfly, thus he settled for mounting dragonflies which he collected in the nearby stream (where katsuki fell).

fun fact about mounting dragonflies: they lose colours when they’re dead. you can use acetone to not only help preserve its colours, but also to stop its decay. they decay so quickly, it’s terrible.

anyways, izuku does not know that and instead followed a youtube video of how to mount dragonflies, using an old picture frame as the case.

inko comes home, sees his son doing his stuff and is just happy that izuku’s not rewatching that loud all might video. she helps him pin the other wings and they are fascinated at how pretty they look. well, the next day, the wings are now transparent and the belly side of the dragonflies are black. it also stinks so they had to throw the whole thing plus the case.

izuku’s fascination grows from there.

a failed experiment, after all, instigates the desire to right them.

so that’s where he starts: butterflies, moths, beetles, another dragonfly case.

katsuki is fascinated and disgusted because, “why would you want dead insects in your room, deku?”

the rest began when the bakugou’s and the midoriya’s have road trips. inko doesn’t have a car so the bakugou’s drive along with them, and it’s a good day. the kids are having fun and getting along, and the parents are chilling and enjoying their vacation. life is good.

then on their drive home, izuku, who is sitting sandwiched between katsuki and inko, lets out this blood-curdling scream. it wakes katsuki up and almost had masaru swerving the car out of the highway.

“maru-san (because my boy izuku cannot say masaru) can you please stop the car! i wanna get that!” he screams, pointing at something indecipherable by the side of the roads.

masaru does anyways because it’s so rare for izuku to request something, but also his heart’s still pumping so fast after izuku’s scream.

masaru wasn’t even done stopping the engine when the car doors are opening, and katsuki and izuku are tumbling out, hand-in-hand. masaru and inko follow them closely, while mitsuki stayed to watch over the car.

katsuki’s excited for an adventure, but then izuku just. stops them. in front of a skull.

masaru chokes from behind them and katsuki lets go of izuku’s hand so fast, running back to his dad because, again, “deku what the shit?”

izuku ignores him and gestures at the deer skull, one that has moss growing by the teeth and around the jaw, turning to inko to ask, “mama? can we bring that home?”

masaru feels very faint, but doesn’t say anything when inko easily agrees, laughing at her boy and patting his untameable hair as if your child asking you for a carcass’s skull is normal.

inko picks it up and they go back to the car. mitsuki does a double-take on what inko’s holding, but shushes up when she saw izuku bouncing happily. katsuki hesitantly sits beside izuku, but when izuku began yammering about all might, he forgets about the skull and nerds out with izuku.

inko explains to mitsuki and masaru about her son’s newfound interest, telling them that it’d go away in two years, don’t worry.

it didn’t. instead, his interest and his collection grew. so for his subsequent birthdays, along with hero merch, he has vulture culture collections gifted to him.

when he moved to the dorms, they’re more packaged than his hero merch and katsuki wants to get angry because he’s been looking for those limited hero merch and yet there they are, chilling beside izuku’s many many skulls and bones.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

IZUKU STARTED COLLECTING THE ALL MIGHT HAWAIIAN SHIRTS WHEN HE WAS TWELVE

he ransacked for the very first edition, often saving his allowance just so he can buy the retro versions of the all might hawaiian shirts. sometimes he’d barter, but that’s only when he’s really desperate for the shirts. usually he’d just be in an auction site and buy just those.

he’d take katsuki with him and katsuki is very careful in what to buy, often researching the things and having a very long pros and cons list to narrow down what he’d buy, then his best bud izuku just out there buying all might hawaiian shirts.

funniest thing too is that those are the first to go because they? don’t value much? and they’re ugly, tbh, and yet izuku’s slurping them all up.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the first time class 1a were talking about plushies, izuku dropped the names and they’re confused because-

“bro did you name your plushies with lovecraft names?” OR “bro? do you perhaps have personalized lovecraft toys?”

it’s the earlier one but izuku would want to buy personalized lovecraft monster toys.

ok but? he names them as per the appropriate lovecraft characters? like:

a purple octopus plushie is called azathoth.

a green gecko plushie is called bokrug.

a fish plushie (literally nemo) is called dagon instead of nemo.

a pink jellyfish plushie is mother of pus.

he has other plushies that have normal names (well, as normal as naming a plushie “cheese grater”), but he has a collection of specific plushies that align with lovecraft beings.

he writes all might x reader fanfictions, i’m sorry ;v;

he only writes them because he doesn’t want other heroes with all might, but also the reader pairing gets more views than all might with other heroes.

katsuki caught him writing a slowburn, enemies to lovers all might x reader fanfic and proceeded to proofread it for him.

synopsis of the fanfiction: reader is a villain with a sound quirk (tailored to present mic’s quirk) and all might met them in a hero gala where the reader pretended to be a worker so that they could infiltrate the gala’s holder’s office for a specific banking access that is linked to the world’s bank. all might manages to sniff them out and proceeds to fight them, but when a beam is about to hit the reader, all might swoops in and saves them. cue the reader developing unwanted feelings for their greatest foe, all might.

aND THEN!!! all might knows the reader outside of their villain persona and is actually very much taken by them. so it’s a painful surprise that the reader is a villain. but he is willing to save them.

it is still incomplete despite having 102 chapters. by chapter 78, katsuki asked for payment because shit was too long and too angsty.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

HEISOSL IZUKU HAS A WORM ON A STRING DOOR CURTAIN

he genuinely likes them but creating the door curtain kind of extinguished that interest because that’s just too much worms and too much strings for a single curtain, and it was very much tiring.

he has a tiny one stitched on his blazer and inko heaved this really big sigh when she saw that her son’s crisp UA uniform got a worm by the chest pocket.

aizawa eyed it once and was so close to expelling izuku just because of that.

shouto, when they became friends, sends a box of them to izuku because he thought that those are izuku’s favourite. katsuki had not stopped cackling when he saw the huge box of them.

to punish katsuki, he made a furby with worm hair and left it by katsuki’s door. katsuki’s scream woke everyone up.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the moment he walked out with a plague mask, tokoyami was exiting his dorm room too and they made a long eye contact.

tokoyami does not know if he is amazed by izuku’s plague mask or he is terrified because why does it look authentic.

for halloween, he was a plague doctor.

he stowed them away after saving eri.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

his first women hero cosplay was in third grade when they had a play about different heroes. the girl who was playing ragdoll got sick and everyone’s already strapped in as their hero and unwilling to change. izuku, himself, is present mic (katsuki’s all might).

the girls don’t want to give up their heroes and izuku, the bestest boy, goes and says he will become ragdoll.

their teacher agrees and helps him strap in as ragdoll and you know what, izuku loves it.

from then on, he tries to cosplay as much women heroes that he can afford. inko loves helping him and katsuki thinks he is adorable but! dont tell deku!!!

OK BUT he wore the dress that broke the internet once and katsuki almost exploded the dress off him. almost because izuku dodged and warned him that if he ever breaks that dress, katsuki will have to pay (either monetary or revenge, katsuki doesn’t know so he behaved).

FOR HALLOWEEN, HE WORE THIS AND KATSUKI HATES IT

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

izuku painting star freckles on his face!!!! or heart freckles!!!! or flowers!!!!

izuku in fairy makeup, pleaseee!

he also loves giving katsuki his own freckles because something about blonde hair and red eyes with pale cheeks kissed by freckles is making izuku gay panic.

izuku putting concealer on his own freckles once and his classmates are looking at him weirdly, wondering why he looks off?

like he still looks amazing, but something’s missing. it’s fucking them up and katsuki isn’t helping them so they’re trying to piece what’s up.

it takes monoma sneering at izuku and asking where his eight freckles are that 1a realizes why he looks different.

ok but denki asking monoma why he knows how much freckles izuku has and monoma spluttering, bright red and embarrassed, until he just walks away.

(answer: he’s crushing on green bean).

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

IZUKU HAVING A COLLECTION OF LIKE ARCHAIC? BREWING? STUFF? BOOKS.

i dont know how to explain it but my friend has this specific book about poisons, detailing recipes and ingredients.

it also talks about the use of frogs, lizards, snakes. the benefits of different flowers (ones with toxins) and how to use them during tea time.

it’s bizarre but the book looks pretty so i think izuku would have a handful of those in his room.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

izuku eating grass? flowers? trying dandelions and complaining that it’s furry

izuku wandering what a twig tastes like so he just sucks on it like a lollipop.

inko gave up on stopping him because her son would just eat anything but his broccolis, and she’s very much tired of thinking if izuku would have an upset stomach. he never had.

first time mitsuki saw izuku do that, she forced him to drink cola and eat candy to cleanse his palette.

katsuki goads him on eating more.

izuku’s favourite is chewing on maple leaves. he���s just a weird boy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

OK BUT THE FINAL ONE ABOUT HIS ALL MIGHT POSTERS?? I HAVENT STOPPED LAUGHINGF

izuku wanting more all might figurines than posters. he only has some chemistry stuff (periodic table) on his wall, a little tapestry that matches inko’s, a canvas of monet’s water lilies (again, matching inko), and some cosmic facts that he bought online.

and yk katsuki sees those and thinks that it’s so weird that izuku has those posters but not all might?

his first thought was, “he doesn’t like all might as much as i do.”

the following one is, “he’s straight so he doesn’t want a guy’s face on his wall.”

katsuki’s mouth so happens to say the second one and the next week he visited izuku’s room again, each surface of the wall that is not taken by pinned insects and his frog-book stuff, plus his other existing non-hero posters, is covered in just all might posters.

he belatedly realizes that his own face is also on izuku’s wall, but that’s for later musings because for now he’s jealous that izuku managed to scourge the limited all might posters, but also is disgusted a bit because that’s too much all might.

katsuki walks out before his interest in all might plummets.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

ps to my beloved: ﹤୨♡୧﹥

GOBLIN I LOVE YOUR AUS ALL THE TIME AND IM SORRY FOR RESPONDING SO LATE! YOU ALWAYS MAKE ME SMILE AND I LOVE U!!!! you’re genuinely so precious pls dont stop your ramblings!!!!

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (5/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: SFW, T+

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage

Word Count: 1998

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: My only note is that the characters in this fanfiction do some questionable things. This does not at all reflect my personal morals or anything I would do (and certainly hope you would not do). Please don’t read this story if you can’t separate fiction from reality. Fanfiction is for entertainment and should not be something that teaches you to be or act a certain way. Thanks!

Enjoy

***

Regulus is met with silence when (y/n) climbs into their bed after the fight and more silence when she doesn't acknowledge him in the morning, dressing silently before sitting on the balcony with her book.

He glances out of the glass door, watching her devour the words on the worn book. Sighing loudly, he looks back towards the parchment on the desk. He didn't exactly know what to say to Sirius. He knew he wanted his older brother to know about the developments his life had taken in the past month, but how do you complain without sounding entirely pathetic? Especially when your complaining was truly aimed at your own actions and attitudes. Sirius would love (y/n); he was sure he would. In a way, (y/n) sort of reminded Regulus of his brother. She was so adamant about not following the rules that people like them followed. Obviously, she hadn't been able to escape Pureblood society the way Sirius had... He doubted, though (y/n) would have tried. It had to be harder to be a woman in the circles they found themselves in. He honestly couldn't imagine living at the level she was expected to.

It's not like he had any special freedom from the constricting nature of their society, but he could do many things she couldn't while still maintaining his reputation. He could have affairs, he could (but personally wouldn't) abuse his spouse, he could even live separate from her without causing a stir. All these things happened within marriages like their own, and only the women seemed to be ruined by their actions and the actions of their husbands and fathers. 

Regulus picks up his quill, intending to finally start this blasted letter. Where does he even begin?

 Sirius,

I do not have any great excuses for my lack of communication, other than the last month, which has been one of the most hectic of my life. I am unsure what you have heard. I doubt you have a full picture of what my life has become, as I would hope you would reach out to congratulate your younger brother on his recent nuptials if you had heard. 

My new wife, (y/n) Black née (y/ln), apparently checked off the boxes our parents found necessary for the next Mistress Black. Funnily enough, though, I'm not sure they did much research into who she is as (y/n) could hardly be considered the traditional Pureblood bride.

But that is hardly a bad thing; if anything, I find her refreshing, if not a bit maddening at times. I had been somewhat afraid to have a meek and mild wife who would cower under my gaze. (y/n), despite being brought up similarly to us, she seems to have developed her own personality outside of Pureblood society. She isn't bitter or greedy like the other girls. The only piece of jewelry I have been able to give her without argument has been that horrible engagement ring-- you know, the one from mum's side. She doesn't want the things most of these Pureblood girls want. Jewelry and expensive things don't seem to make her happy the way mother said they would.

Even as she is different, I have this ever-increasing fear that I might drive her towards the other's level of bitterness and unhappiness. I will be the first to admit that I have no idea what I am doing with women; this fact has not changed in my marriage. It's become even more apparent that I haven't a clue how I should behave as I've been forced into this relationship.

It has also become clear that Mother's advice has been shit, as every attempt I've made with my bride has been met with annoyance from her. I can't seem to give her what she truly wants. Embarrassingly enough, what she talks of-- craves from me is some sort of romantic connection. This is something I hadn't planned on in an arranged marriage, and I'm not sure if I will be able to indulge her without a bit of deceit. 

Which I would feel horrible for doing-- pretending. 

Last night, like many nights in recent weeks, I found myself in an argument with my wife over this exact topic. Something she said triggered a memory, hopefully, a memory that you have a recollection of as well.

Do you, brother, have any memories of our dear mother when she was-- well, motherly, to say the least. Warm and loving, as a mother should be. When she would admit to us in hushed tones that the love we showed her was the replacement for the lack of love between Orion and herself?

During the heated exchange with my wife, I was struck with that strange memory, and I realized deeply and uncomfortably that I was in the early stages of pushing my own wife towards becoming our mother. Something, I realize now, I cannot allow to happen.

Pushing this girl towards unhappiness when she was forced into marrying me by her parents is unacceptable on my part. I'm completely aware that it is me who is making us miserable. I should be happy, or at least satisfied enough in the marriage to indulge her, to try. (y/n) is beautiful, everything a man could want in a wife. And I do want her. 

Yet, I do not know how to want her the way she is expecting me to. And, I have to reiterate that I don't know how to even-- fall in love, I suppose.

Through my woeful letter, I hope you see a solution to my dilemma. Or at least can offer advice as I have no idea which direction I should go at this time.

Sincerely,

Regulus places his quill to the side, reading over the content of his letter. At times, he sounds like a pathetic child whining, but he hopes his brother can see he sincerely wants his advice.

Very much requires any advice Sirius may have.

None of Sirius's advice could be helpful on the trials and tribulations of marriage per se, but if anyone had experience in relationships, it was Sirius Black. Sirius, who wooed and flirted his way through life, would know exactly how he would be able to win (y/n) over and hopefully form a romantic relationship with her.

Slowly, Regulus gets up from the desk, taking his time to cross the room. Opening the glass door to the balcony, he pokes his head out. When (y/n) doesn't look up, he clears his throat.

She freezes, slowly lowering the book enough for their eyes to meet, but doesn't say a word.

"I'm going to go to the lobby to have this posted." Regulus feels the light pink of embarrassment on the tops of his cheeks.

(y/n) nods once before giving her attention back to the blasted book. Regulus's lips pinch before he shuts the door a bit louder than necessary.

Much to his annoyance, the banging noise doesn't seem to faze his wife. 

He stalks down to the library in a mood, the letter to Sirius gripped tightly in his right hand.

A young witch greets him, asking if he needed any assistance with anything.

"I require an owl. I have a very urgent letter that needs to arrive as soon as possible."

"Okay, if you'll follow me, we can get your letter sent." The witch leads him up to the rooftop, showing him the hotel's fastest owl.

***

A sharp knock on their suite's door startles Regulus, who had been reading the Prophet to pass the time. He gets up off of the room's couch, opening the door to an older gentleman.

"Mail delivery, Master Black." The old man hands him a hastily folded piece of parchment addressed to him in Sirius's messy excuse for handwriting.

"Uh-- thank you." Regulus digs in his pocket, pulling out money to tip the man. They exchange the items, and Regulus hurries over to the desk. Hurriedly, he breaks the wax seal and opens the letter.

 You got married?

Ah, yes. His ever eloquent brother didn't even bother to address the letter, jumping right to the point.

Regulus reads on...

You got married? And I didn't even get an invitation? I'm sort of hurt, but yet again, mum would've been pissed if I showed up. How fun would that have been, though? Me crashing your wedding in my Docs and my worn Led Zeppelin shirt. Mum would've freaked.

We really missed an opportunity, Reggie.

But, wow. You married. That's wild. And she's a bit wild as well? How did you manage to end up in an arranged marriage with what seems like the most unique of the Pureblood lot? Besides me, of course.

I'll have to meet this fascinating (y/n) (y/ln)-- or should I say (y/n) Black? Weird-- I have a sister-in-law. That feels too grown-up and stuffy.

Maybe it feels wrong, mostly because you never dated anyone, or at least anyone I knew of.

The point you made about you knowing absolutely nothing about women is incredibly accurate, I'm afraid, Reggie. The poor girl, I hope you haven't been ignoring her like Orion does to Walburga. But, I'm almost certain that you have been sort of an ass to her by your letter.

You want advice though, do you now, little brother. Here is my advice to you:

I have dated plenty of people in my days-- plenty. If you truly wish to make your wife (what the hell that is so odd to write!) happy, Regulus, you need to get to know her. 

Ask her questions about her likes, her dislikes. What her childhood was like, who her friends are. Even silly things such as how she takes her tea or what she grew up wanting to be as an adult. But you must be prepared to be vulnerable and answer questions she has for you as well. If you can't open up and be vulnerable, you will never be successful in 

A) forming a "romantic connection" with (y/n) and 

B) falling in love with your wife. 

I hope that I have been helpful. My advice is simple, but knowing the woman you promised to spend eternity with is necessary to live a peaceful life. Maybe the whole "happy wife happy life" saying is accurate. Not like I would know, but still.

As for the memory of Walburga you brought up, I do remember instances like that. I hadn't thought about those instances in a very long time. I hope you are successful in your attempts with (y/n). I would hate to see another woman turn out like our mother.

Your brother,

 P.S. Take your wife out somewhere romantic! For Merlin's sake, Regulus. You have to have some romance somewhere hidden within you!

 ***

Regulus decides there's no better time than the present to follow Sirius's advice. Unfortunately, he already used up his one "romantic" idea (really Orion's, but still) with their disastrous dinner the previous night.

His only option would be to find a local who would know of spots he might take his wife to. He reckons the logical locals to ask where these locations would be are the hotel's staff.

The same witch that helped him with the owl still sits at the hotel's lobby desk. She grins widely when she notices he's walking towards her, "Oh! You're back!"

Regulus controls his mild annoyance with the woman as she bats her eyelashes foolishly.

"I wonder if you know any places around the city that you recommend for honeymooners?"

The girl's face falls slightly before she's grinning again, "You're on your honeymoon?"

"Yes, you've probably seen my wife with me," he says, asserting that he does have a wife and that the girl shouldn't get her hopes up, "I'd like to take her out this afternoon, but I'm afraid I know little of the spots couple's usually visit around here."

The witch thinks for a moment, "I think I have a perfect place in mind."