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harrysonlylover · 1 month

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Discipline

Summary: Agent Harry cherishes discipline, but he doesn’t like the fact that Y/n has been lacking it.

Trope: Agent Harry

WC: 6.8k

Warnings: MEAN Harry, shouting at Y/n, Angst, mention of blood tests and deficiencies, NO SMUT.

Agent Harry Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Choosing to become an agent would either be the worst decision in your life or the best. In Harry’s case, it was the latter.

He was born a leader—at least according to his mother. He had the household controlled from a young age, something that was perceived as adorable by adults.

But behind all his antics and “boss orders”, was a man eager to assert dominance starting from his early years.

His behavior was a replica of a leader or a man in power. His mother didn’t oppose his personality, perhaps a part of her thought it was just a phase, while the other was okay with it.

Little did she know that this stubborn young man would grow up to become one of London’s best secret agents.

As some would say—he didn’t choose the path, the path chose him. A fresh High School graduate eager to take a bite from what the world was offering him with little to no guidance.

Instead, he poured all of his focus on training like a man ready to enroll in the military—something that his mom disapproved of.

How could she allow her son, her boy to sign himself up like that?

Underneath his rough exterior and judgmental persona, his mother’s beliefs were dear to him. To this day, no one has deemed himself as important as her, and perhaps no one ever will.

So, after her sudden death when he was merely twenty—he allowed himself to get lost in grief, to go against the orders he created, and betray his strictness. His body dragged him around from one place to another, asking for fights, a punch here and there to transfer his emotional maim to a physical one.

The last time he would do that was also his first chance at a new beginning. Drunk and out of his mind at a local bar, the whiskey still fresh on his tongue with rage bubbling in his core.

Just like every previous time, he ensued a fight for no reason. But this time, it was different because he had an admirer and more of a stalker.

Ezra Nakrosa, the director of the London Intelligence Agency. A man whose reputation preceded him and Harry’s mentor for the upcoming years.

He wasn’t actively pursuing him, but he kept his eyes on him after he managed to take down three men with alcohol in his system.

He watched him drink one glass after the other and scoffed to himself when he caused a fight. The last thing he expected was for Harry to outpower them all.

Since then, he watched him from afar, studied his file, and was even more interested upon finding out that he had no family.

The agency always preferred recruiting agents with little to no loved ones, for many obvious reasons and Ezra felt like he hit the jackpot.

That night, he watched Harry intently observing his moves and his body language, before approaching him after the bar owner kicked him out.

Again—he didn’t choose this path, it chose him.

Ezra didn’t even have the chance to speak because Harry was quick to confess that ‘he wasn’t dumb to not notice men stalking him’.

His agents were the best, so how did a man from a small town detect undercover agents?

He knew in that moment that he would work hard to recruit Harry, and ironically he didn’t have to ask twice.

From that day onwards, Harry climbed the ladder to the top with the help of his mentor. He found a purpose to live again, somewhere to cage his rage, and use his strategic thinking skills paired with his physical strength.

While most agents took time to adapt to the new environment, and around two years to be qualified as a field agent—Harry got his first mission in one year.

Not because Ezra secretly favored him compared to others, but because he managed to prove himself worthy, making the board demand his transfer to the field.

He was aware of the progress he made and with every milestone, his ego inflated a bit (and his biceps too).

He turned thirty-one recently, marking eleven years of being a skilled agent. Ezra’s retirement is approaching by the second and everyone is whispering rumors about Harry becoming the next chief director.

It’s a decision that hasn’t been discussed yet, but Ezra is aware that Harry will approve instantly because no one can do it like him. Besides, the agency is his entire life.

He has no loved ones and he dedicated years and hard work to the agency. He knows nothing else.

What could make Harry Styles so busy other than his position as a secret agent?

The agency is preparing for a major attack on a drug cartel, and Harry has been training everyone ruthlessly. The plan he devised was strategic and well-planned from A to Z. It can’t go wrong.

But for today, he allowed them some rest after some bargaining with the other trainer. So instead, he directed his focus towards other agents.

According to him, time can’t be wasted.

The room was filled with agents in every corner. Most of them were beginners while the others trained for their upcoming missions that weren’t as important as the drug cartel attack.

The smell of sweat and tiredness reeked from their exhausted but energetic bodies. Harry focused on strengthening their stamina because a weak one won’t benefit them in the field.

“Faster! A child can do better than you.” His voice echoed in the tight space as he stood in front of the lined agents on the ground.

Even his position whether he was sitting or standing declared his authority and sense of power. His arms were folded against his chest, showcasing his pumped biceps and his facial expression did not harbor any warm smile or softness. No one dared to look him in the eyes anyway.

“With a stamina like that, you’d be dead already!” His loud shouting wasn’t helping the poor beginner agents who cursed their luck that landed Harry as their trainer for the day.

Their current exercise was pushups. A basic one but effective in Harry’s opinion, but their exhaustion makes sense when he wants them to do 200 consecutive pushups without resting, and with sudden planks in between that don’t stop until he says so.

Harry may be a bit biased, but he fully believes that the other trainer (whom he doesn’t like) is being too soft with the newcomers. Something that shouldn’t happen.

He glanced at their worn-out faces and rolled his eyes before dismissing them.

“I’ll be discussing your weaknesses with Agent Ian. Go eat and rest but know that you shouldn’t be called agents for this shitshow.” He spat his criticism mercilessly uncaring for their feelings.

He watched them stumble out of the room, some of them limping as he remained in his place with the same posture of a leader.

Once everyone was out, his gaze drifted to the punching bag in the corner. He felt like it was calling for him despite the four-hour workout he did in the morning.

His thirst for combat or any type of martial arts could not be tamed. But upon gazing a bit too much at the punching bag, he remembered something he was supposed to do.

His legs immediately take action before his brain as he flees out of the room heading towards a private floor that is restricted for regular agents.

Only Harry, Ezra, high-ranking agents, and members of the board can access this floor. But for an unknown reason, Harry found himself giving Y/n access to his private gym.

There are many layers to things that shouldn’t happen but it seemed as if Harry didn’t care or was perhaps unaware of his actions.

Agents like Y/n shouldn’t be on this floor, but they also can’t be trained privately.

The first restriction is more important, but the second is rather for caution—to maintain a professional relationship between regular agents and higher rank ones.

All agents were trained in groups and if they needed to work on certain issues, their trainer would give them advice but not train them individually.

Harry doesn’t always train Y/n’s group but as of late, he noticed her lack of discipline and physical stamina when it comes to combat.

He knew that she wasn’t that weak which meant that she had been slacking off with training and that pissed him off.

So he ordered her to wait for him in room 309 at exactly two in the afternoon. His boots left an echo as he walked through the corridor with a confident stride. Yet, something kept poking at his brain allowing anxiety to settle in his stomach. He wasn’t entirely comfortable.

He pushed the door to the gym open, reaching his hand for the light switch. It was somewhat dim, obscuring Y/n from his view. She sat on the ground in a corner with her head tilted upwards. In the few seconds between moving her head and meeting his sharp eyes, he got to catch a glimpse of her in a calm state, almost unobserved. Even then, she looked obscenely beautiful.

“You’re late.” She gestured to the clock on the wall in a sarcastic tone that indicated his five-minute delay.

“No. You’re early.” He tried to hide his smirk before failing upon seeing the frown on her face.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and supported her body using her hands to get up—something that caught Harry’s eye.

“You’re an agent. You shouldn’t act like a 70-year-old woman at a retirement home.” His tone could cut a vein open, but at this point, she kind of got familiar with it.

She avoided responding or looking him in the eye because one answer would drag the other and he would end up questioning her on her performance—and frankly, she doesn’t have a proper response for that.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t take it any further and instructs her to warm up for fifteen minutes in a corner.

She does so with exhaustion traveling through her veins. The only thing that helps her through it is the sight of his athletic body.

His shirt is still on but it perfectly outlines his biceps that he wraps around her body to manhandle her during sex—

She quickly shakes her head to rid herself of the sinful thoughts she’s having. But again—would it be so bad to crave something that happens every other day?

Their steamy encounters keep increasing behind closed doors, and he puts on his boss’s facade once they’re out. She’s not sure if she likes that or not, but either way, she doesn’t have a say in it.

Their relationship is strictly physical.

Even if her lips begged her to find his at random moments throughout the day, even if their naked bodies molded after sex, and even if she was awake when he kissed her temple.

“Okay, that’s it.” The expression on his face held ambiguous cues, but he refrained from saying anything.

She caught her breath as shame creeped up her face planting a rosy color on her cheeks. She walked over to him with her head hung low, and nails digging into her palm.

“I need you to do some boxing because your game is getting weak.” He sighed as disappointment reeked from his words, causing more redness to settle on her face.

He helped her wear the boxing gloves as he intently glanced at her worried expression.

The first ten minutes were okay. Some form of another warm-up in Harry’s opinion. He has seen her train many times before and by now she would have the bag swinging left and right.

It made him think back to her friendly match with another agent and how she got a hit to the stomach—if he hadn’t stopped it, other areas would have been affected as well.

Not to mention her stamina in recent training—Harry simply could not let her lose her strength out of everyone else.

“Focus harder.” His posture was a warning—an indication of his bubbling anger. His arms were crossed, giving more room for his biceps to rightfully appear.

His legs were parted as he stood motionless, simply burning Y/n’s shame with his piercing gaze. She could feel it. How he had something going on in his mind, aching to roll off his lips.

His jaw ticked while his eyes followed the movement of her hands in sync with the boxing bag. It was a disaster.

“You know who gives this fucking performance? A beginner.” His tone began to increase gradually.

She swallowed down her throat, trying to ignore his intimidating posture and body that could be warm at times and cold at others.

It wasn’t odd for him to be harsh and strict during training—except that he never spoke to her like this. Not even when she was snarky and replied at things that had nothing to do with her.

Superior agents were not allowed to train any lower-ranking agent privately, and she wasn’t an idiot to dismiss that rule. But why was he acting this way?

She punched harder gathering all the strength left in her muscles, for the bag to only move a bit farther. She almost lost her footing but kept going for him. She never wanted to disappoint him.

“A fucking shitshow.” He mumbled quietly under his breath—but she heard it, and it went straight through her heart like an arrow.

“For the love of god, you’re a skilled agent so act like one!” His shouting echoed through the room making her stop and glance at him.

He was visibly furious with a vein bulging from his neck. His hand was trembling and his breaths were laboured. She hasn’t seen him in such a state before, and she regrets that she just did.

No one wanted to be on the receiving end of his anger but especially not her.

Besides, underneath all the tough facade that she puts on and her bold replies, she’s very sensitive and completely vulnerable when it comes to him.

Getting shouted at and taking orders from superiors was just another day for agents, but Harry? She was fucking falling for him.

She sighed, gathering her pride before continuing to punch the bag, ignoring the signs her body was giving her to stop.

He observed her for a minute or two, with his eyes darting between her hands and the sway of the bag. He slid down to her legs, and how they were positioned and stationed.

He took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and shook his head in frustration. Did everything she learn evaporate in thin air?

“If you were in the field right now, you’d be fucking dead.” He began walking around her, throwing one sharp comment after the other.

“Are your legs paralyzed? Are you supposed to stand like that when fighting?! His shouting kept getting louder, pushing at her tear duct to open.

He suddenly punched the bag with his bare hand causing it to swing way farther, almost hitting the mirror facing them.

“Is it that hard, Y/n?” He gestured to the swinging bag.

“Where is your strength!” He was fucking fuming.

What would he do if she went on a mission with such weakness? What would happen to her if he wasn’t there?

He was too occupied with his fears to notice her frantically taking the gloves off with tears streaming down her extremely rosy cheeks.

“Y/n…” He tried to speak but her sobbing was louder than his words.

It was just another training. He has been way harsher before but this was his first time seeing her cry because of him. It was more painful than a bullet.

“J-just stop!” Her words were barely coherent with how hard she was crying. He stood in front of her unable to do or say anything.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was never supposed to cry because of him and he shouldn’t have raised his voice this way.

The boxing gloves hit the ground as she hiccuped from sobbing. She picked up her bag from the ground and turned around to face him with red eyes and a broken expression.

“Leave me alone.” The loud thud of the door closing made him flinch. He still hasn’t moved an inch trying to grasp what he had done.

Being mean and strict was all he ever knew. He never toned it down for anyone and it didn’t reflect how he felt towards them. When it came to Y/n, it was more out of protection and fear of something happening to her. He wanted her to defend herself properly and be a skilled agent. He didn’t understand why she was slacking with training like that, missing some sessions, or letting other agents beat her.

She was an amazing agent and managed to reach the top ranks in a short period, just like him.

He lost himself while training her, but he shouldn’t have assumed that she could take all of that as a motivation. There’s no such thing as being gentle in the agency, and Y/n is one tough woman. Still, he didn’t speak to her like that before. If anything, she was the only agent he praised in his ten years of service.

Did that have to do with their secret meet-ups?

Whatever the reason, he fucked up. If someone made her cry, he wouldn’t let them see the light of the day again, and no he doesn’t know why he feels the need to protect her from everything or why he isn’t running after her this instant.

He’s a pretty shit communicator—that’s the only thing he knows.

“Harry.” Ezra snapped him out of his thoughts. He was standing in the doorway with a worried expression.

“In my office. Now.”

Harry was all too familiar with this office. He has been here a million times for the good and bad. The leather sofa he’s resting on is somewhat his signature sofa, no one else uses it but him.

His legs are spread and his left knee is bouncing as his fingers tap repeatedly on the edge of the sofa. His expression is serious as always and holds no room for bargaining. If you get close enough, you’d hear his blood boiling in his veins and the echo of Y/n’s cries repeating in his head.

“Harry.” Ezra cleared his throat, letting out an exhale before clasping his hands together.

He didn’t need to wait for Harry to turn around and acknowledge him, he had his body language memorized by heart. He instantly caught on and noticed his agitation and stress—something that he doesn’t exhibit regularly.

“I will not question you as to why an agent like Y/n had access to this restricted floor.” Ezra trusted her but if it were a different agent, he could not let it slide easily.

“What I will ask is—why did she run from here crying?” He wasn’t born yesterday. Harry’s bias toward her and his extra attention was easy to catch, especially when he had known him for a long period.

His question was met with silence and the tightening of Harry’s jaw. He kept observing him shamelessly wondering when was the last time he showed such distress over another human being.

“At least tell me why you were training her privately. You have never done that nor should you, but what’s so simple—“

“She’s getting weaker!” Harry slammed his hand on the mahogany desk, catching Ezra off guard and spilling some of his coffee.

“Low stamina and endurance, weak punches, wrong posture, and allowing others to win in matches.” His nostrils flared while his hand trembled from the pent-up anger. The tick of his jaw was unsettling and his brows furrowed with great agitation.

Ezra remained calm partly because he was familiar with Harry’s outbursts, but also because he was shocked by his response.

It would be hard to recall a decade of knowing someone, but if he’s not mistaken, Ezra has never witnessed Harry giving two fucks about someone other than his late mother, let alone an agent.

But damn it if it didn’t make sense.

“So what? Many agents slack sometimes.”

“Well, she’s not any agent. She’s smart, strong, and a skilled agent. Have you thought about what would happen to her in the field?!” His body language was less tense, but his defense grew stronger giving Ezra the final piece of the puzzle.

As the chief director of the agency, he’s slightly disappointed by Harry’s lack of professionalism, but as his mentor and nonbiological father figure, he’s happy for him.

He’s on the road to finding love and caring for someone else is a promising step to de-freeze his cold heart.

Ezra didn’t convey any form of emotion and sported a poker face. Harry looked as if he was still gathering evidence in his mind while simultaneously waiting for Ezra to say something.

“A while ago, Y/n asked for my help.” Harry’s expression changed completely.

“Wha—“

“Patience Son.” He warned, gesturing for him to relax a bit—which he did reluctantly.

“She wasn’t feeling well and told me that she wanted to get some tests done.” The words rolled off his lips smoothly as if he wasn’t casually telling him that something was wrong with her. If it weren’t for Ezra, Harry would be halfway through the door right now.

“The only obstacle was you.”

“Me?” Harry’s voice was rather timid this time—another surprise for Ezra.

“Yes. If she asked for the agency’s doctor to perform them, then you would have known one way or another. The reason she avoided telling you remained unknown to me—but I did help her to get them done.” Harry’s mouth went dry and he felt his vision getting blurry.

Y/n was not feeling fine, and he thought she was slacking.

He was frozen in his place, stuck to the sofa trying to comprehend what his mentor just said. His chest tightened and his heartbeats increased gradually.

“I—“

“The tests came back and the doctor I contacted said that it’s mild anemia. Nothing too scary, it’s treatable.” Ezra stopped right there after noticing the change of color on Harry’s face. He looked like he was about to faint.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He immediately passed him a water bottle and watched him take a few sips with furrowed brows.

What is up with this boy, Ezra thought.

“Do you need food—“

“She doesn’t have a history of anemia, where the fuck did it come from?” He returned to his normal angry self by posing more questions.

“The doctor said that mild anemia can develop suddenly—due to lifestyle practices of course but Harry it’s manageable.“ He could no longer tell his body language. Was he angry? sad? overwhelmed?

Harry stared at the wall, avoiding eye contact but continued his knee bouncing. He unconsciously began cracking his knuckles as Ezra’s presence was erased from his mind.

Only Y/n occupied his thoughts.

His little minx.

She was sick, refused to inform him and all he did was make it worse. His nails dug into the leather sofa, almost tearing off a piece with how hard he pressed.

He was a fucking idiot for not noticing her cues. What kind of sick bastard was he?

“Harry!” Ezra stood in front of him, snapping his fingers to coax him back from his dissociation.

He had a file in his hand that he threw in Harry’s lap. “These are her tests. Take them and fix what you have done son. I know that you hate apologizing—but sometimes it’s what you should do with certain people like Y/n.”

Harry was up on his feet in seconds heading towards the door with the file in his hand.

“And Harry?”

He waited for him to turn around before continuing.

“I know nothing about this.” A hint of a smile was painted across his face with some mischief.

Y/n was curled up on her couch under her fuzzy blanket with a half-eaten chocolate bar next to her. Her tears barely dried before another wave came through upon remembering what unfolded a few hours ago.

She glanced to the other side of the room where her beloved (and only) companion was staring.

“He’s a meanie TimTim.” She wiped her tears using her sleeves as her sniffling increased.

Unfortunately, her companion cannot comfort her verbally. TimTim is a penguin plushie that has been with her through everything. The nature of her job prevented her from adopting a pet—something that she wanted so badly. Her constant absence did not make her qualified to look after a small creature, but TimTim sufficed.

“…but he has a good dick… and a good heart sometimes.” She rolled her eyes at her stupidness. No matter how badly someone hurt her, she’d always find an excuse to justify their actions.

Her recent argument with Harry had many layers to it. To begin with, he wasn’t exactly a love-dovie type of person. His attitude toward her was slightly less bitchy compared to other agents—but she also drove him nuts by throwing back sassy replies and remarks.

He was the most stubborn and cold-blooded man she had ever met, not because he liked to do it for fun or out of sadist tendencies—it was just his character.

Discipline, Respect, Loyalty. Those were his most sacred traits. Most agents nowadays were weak according to him, so he found himself resorting to tougher training and a harsher approach.

Her eyes didn’t swell with tears because of his sharp words and anger. Frankly, she knew how he could turn into someone else during training, and rightfully so.

But validation from him mattered. If she placed her biased feelings aside, she would find that he was her favorite superior. He’s a talented agent with the right principles and morals. She looked up to him.

She never wanted to disappoint him, but she managed to.

The more she thought about it, the more tears flowed out of her tear duct. The fury and frustration that he expressed pained her, it was so different from his usual smirks that were followed by praises.

When she could no longer handle his disappointment, she broke down revealing all the ache that she had been carrying.

Letting him down was never on her agenda, but neither was getting sick. She began noticing her decrease in performance a while ago, along with fainting twice. She dismissed it thinking that she just needed more sleep or perhaps more days off.

But when the symptoms persisted, she knew something was off. Telling Harry was not an option, mostly because she didn’t know how he would react but it also felt like something that must be kept a secret from him, so she resorted to Ezra.

He hasn’t replied but she spotted him from her peripheral vision upon leaving earlier today, and her emotions were all over the place to give two fucks, which explains why she came to her apartment.

Usually field agents like her sleep at the agency and dedicate their time to the secret service. She was one among many who became orphans at a young age, and this made it easier for the agency to make them stay there instead of in apartments.

No loved ones always meant a safer life for people like them.

Still, Y/n liked the idea of having a designated space for her. If she was destined to be lonely, she might as well learn to enjoy it.

So despite not being allowed to leave without prior notice, she immediately found herself in her cozy flat munching on chocolate and ranting to TimTim as she hiccuped and sniffled repeatedly.

What confused her even more was his expression of regret upon seeing her cry. She was too upset to register it, but now that she let everything out and recalled what went down, she was certain that it wasn’t something usual of him.

His entire demeanour switched and he was confused whether to step forward or backward as he softly whispered her name.

Did he act the same way with other agents? Fuck no.

But does that mean that he regretted what he had done?

Maybe his eyes that tried to decode her feelings exposed him, or his hand that unconsciously moved forward towards her body—

Y/n covered her face with her hands and groaned loudly as if her thoughts would stop colliding. Everything was puzzling her more and more. Was he disappointed or not?

The loud banging on her door pulled her out of her tangled thoughts and vulnerable character.

She certainly wasn’t around enough to become besties with her neighbors or have friends to pop in for girls’ night.

Perhaps the agency sent someone to get her, but how would they know that she came here? Maybe they just tried their luck—

The banging got louder as if it was a warning. Whoever was outside, planned to come inside no matter what.

Y/n immediately switched into agent mode and grabbed a gun from the nearest drawer. Better be safe than sorry.

She walked slowly to the door with careful footsteps and high heartbeats. The door didn’t have a hole in it, so she’d either have to ask who was outside—or open the door.

But her guest beat her to it.

“Y/n…open the door.” Harry’s voice made her take a step back. The fresh tear stains on her cheeks burned upon hearing his words. What brought him here?

Hell, a serial killer would’ve been less surprising.

“No.” She lowered her gun and relaxed her shoulders a bit. More tears threatened to fall as she slowly turned around toward the couch.

He hasn’t been to her apartment before which means that he had some fun with her record. He’s most likely here to drive her back to the agency where she’ll receive a warning for leaving—what else could be here for?

“Y/n… I can pick the lock, break the door, or you can just let me in.” He huffed in annoyance at her stubbornness. She might as well turn on the TV to ignore him.

They both knew that he wasn’t joking. He could break in if he wanted, but Y/n was too busy trying to understand why he came here.

“Listen, I know about the lab tests.” Y/n’s eyes widened in shock. Damn it, Ezra.

So this is what he’s here for. A double warning. One for leaving and one for not informing him of her sickness.

She was near the door in two seconds, unlocking it and facing him despite her messy look and tired teary face.

“Since when—“ She meant to stay focused. She really did. But as usual, he found a way to make her forget about her anger.

He was dressed normally. It was odd to see him in something outside of his work attire, even if it was a simple hoodie with matching joggers. He looked cozy.

But what made her jaw drop was the fresh bouquet of yellow tulips in his right hand.

He got her flowers?

He cleared his throat making her realize how shocked she looked, and he didn’t blame her. She was the first woman he bought flowers for, ever.

The sight of her swollen eye and dried tears made him tighten his grip on the bouquet. A sight that will never leave his mind.

“I—“ She tried to let out something but she failed and moved aside for him to enter.

“Why the tulips?” She stood with her arms crossed trying to decipher what was going on.

“You like them.” His answer was short and clear but it held more meaning. She doesn’t recall letting him in on her favorite flowers—

“I overheard you telling Tania.” He shrugged as if it was not a big deal to eavesdrop on other agents and then memorize Y/n’s favorite flower.

He scanned the apartment with his eyes carefully—a habit of his for safety. It was more out of curiosity as if it would whisper to him secrets about Y/n.

“Why are you here?” Her voice seemed timid and broken.

He ignored her query and continued scanning his surroundings for a hint of her personality.

“Chocolate…?” He furrowed his eyebrows at her but it was hard to focus or look her in the eye without noticing her puffy face.

“Here to lecture me?” She scoffed, walking past him to the safe corner she made on her couch.

She covered herself and returned to her previous position as if her superior at work was not standing before her—with her favorite flowers still in his hand.

What the fuck is up with the flowers, she thought.

“If you want to stand there and give your lecture, then be my guest.” She mumbled coldly without blinking once. The coziness from the soft blanket slowly came back, but Harry’s cold stare fought it.

The last thing she expected him to do was sit next to her and rest his hands on her legs. She had a billion questions swimming in her head and she bit her tongue to not ramble and ask what the fuck was going on.

“I’m Sorry.” It rolled off his lips so easily, but her ears couldn’t process it. She stayed silent and did not move an inch as she stared ahead, ignoring his warm touch.

If she can’t understand anything, she’ll just listen and observe cluelessly.

“I had no idea that you were sick— I wouldn’t have pushed you this much if I did. But still, that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t push you at all.” His words were direct and his voice was unshakeable. He was fully confident of what he was saying, with no shame.

She swallowed down her throat, fighting the tears threatening to fall down her face.

“I spoke with Ezra…and he gave me your tests. A doctor reviewed them and said it’s mild anemia.” The tears fell silently on her face disobeying her. Harry stopped speaking as if he felt her sadness.

“Could you get up a bit? Hmm?” He rubbed soothing circles on her skin and waited patiently for her answer.

She slowly lifted herself despite her reluctance, but still refused to look him in the eye. He can see her tears falling from the side and it makes him want to punch a wall.

“Attagirl. Look at me please.” He stroked her cheek softly with his knuckles.

She slowly turned her face in his direction as his hand reached out to wipe her tears.

“You’re pretty when you cry, but I don’t like it.” He whispered with his voice being barely audible. His eyes were fixated on her gorgeous lashes that she batted at him. How did she exist like an angel so casually?

“Yeah well, it was you who made me cry.” She mumbled like a child, crossing her arms at her chest.

“I’m a dickhead.” He laughed at the cute face she made with his hand still wiping any new tears that fall.

He’ll be damned if he’ll let her cry again.

“I know.” She rolled her eyes and reached out for the file next to him.

“Y/n—“

“What did the doctor say?”

“Like I said, it’s mild anemia. But nothing too dangerous. I got you the supplement he prescribed.” Harry gestured to the bottle placed near the flowers.

“And you missy will have your diet monitored by me. I want you eating iron-filled foods—“ He barely completely his sentence before Y/n was groaning loudly and slumping backward on the couch.

“Get up. Don’t make me tickle you.” He warned and she lifted herself within seconds with a pout on her face.

“Now the question is… why were you ignoring your needs?” It was the only question that she wished he wouldn’t ask. But nothing can stop him from knowing what he wants.

She stared at TimTim despite his piercing gaze on her hoping that the plushie could rescue her somehow.

“I wasn’t ignoring them, I guess I simply didn’t realize.” She swallowed down her throat, avoiding eye contact.

“You didn’t want to tell me.” He pressed further. His tone was soft but impatient—he’d beg on his knees if he had to.

“I—“ She focused her gaze on TimTim again causing Harry to turn his head around for a look.

“A plushie?” He scrunched his face in shock.

“So?” She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms against her chest. She seemed ready to punch him if he made fun of her.

“No comment.” He raised his hands in the air letting out a soft smile. It was a rare sight, but a beautiful one. She liked seeing him smile as his dimples popped up on his soft face.

“Don’t run away from the question though.” He whispered with his eyes begging her for the truth.

Her tears had dried but her face was still puffy and her eyes were swollen. There weren’t any tears to wipe but that didn’t stop Harry from reaching out his hand to caress her cheeks.

His warm touch was weird to decipher, it seemed able to burn her at times, just like his words.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” She blurted out suddenly before inhaling sharply in shock as if her mouth betrayed her without permission.

Harry’s facial expression shifted from softness to something she couldn’t decode—but the pain was recognizable.

She lowered her gaze as her cheeks became flushed with embarrassment. His hand slowly inched away from her skin, feeling unworthy of touching her.

“You could never disappoint me.” He whispered it like a promise. A sacred one. He couldn’t believe that she would think like that even for a second.

He was so fucking proud of her. He pushed her earlier today but he was lenient with her before. A bullet wound would’ve been better to take than her confession.

She mattered to him whether he was aware or not but the clutch in his chest must’ve given him a hint.

“Look at me, please.”

She lifted her chin reluctantly and looked him in the eye. This was her first time seeing him this vulnerable—it was so easy to read his eyes.

“There’s no way you could disappoint me. Ever.”

“I slacked in performance—“

“Fuck that. You need rest.” He shook his head, denying all the false thoughts she had.

“What I did earlier was a mistake and it won’t happen again.” It was more of a vow than a promise.

Silence filled the apartment after his last sentence. They shamelessly stared into each other’s eyes despite the intrusion of TimTim. Harry knew that if he didn’t do or say something—he’d have his lips on her in mere seconds.

“I should get going.” He cleared his throat and stood up.

Y/n was still going through a rollercoaster of emotions. She ached to ask him something back, it was fair to do so. But instead, she decided to let him go.

“Also…” He fetched a paper out of his hand and left it on her couch. “You’re allowed a week of rest. That means no training, no gym, and you can stay here.”

Surprise was prominent on her face. She opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

“No objections. I need you to rest.” She’s not sure if this was allowed—if the board knew about the leave he granted her. It seemed to pile up amongst many of the other things she wondered about.

“Okay…” She balanced herself on her feet and walked him to the door.

“This doesn’t mean I’m done being mad at you.” She mumbled sarcastically.

“Good. I like it when you’re bratty.” He winked at her as he opened the door.

She watched him walk away before turning around and looking at her.

“Oh and Y/n? I’ll have a customized meal plan delivered to your house. For fuck’s sake don’t live off chocolate.”

“But—“

“No buts and take your supplement.” His voice echoed in the building as he descended the stairs.

She stood motionless at the door with her arms folded against her chest as she scrunched her face and rolled her eyes at his bossy orders.

“Don’t roll your eyes missy.” His voice was distant signaling that he reached the ground floor. She slammed the door shut in response, unable to contain the smile that crept up on her face.

She didn’t lie to TimTim—he does have a good heart sometimes, but discipline remains cherished.

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an-idyllic-novelist · 3 months

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Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way.

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around.

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you.

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it.

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago.

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others.

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much.

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner. They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk.

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess.

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do.

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day.

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out.

He saw you cook finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands.

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War.

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit.

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day.

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it.

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake whiny bitch.

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that.

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong.

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel.

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them.

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore.

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no.

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle.

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!”

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other.

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army. When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck.

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around scratching, kicking, and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off him and inhaling deep gulps of precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands.

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting.

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right.

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character.

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked.

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones.

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin.

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?”

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of them, they made quick work with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts.

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too.

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass.

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it.

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards.

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be.

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone.

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest.

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.”

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right. “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering.

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse.

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck.

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit.

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there?

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below, your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places.

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his.

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.”

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special.

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight.

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking.

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight.

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms.

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass.

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome."

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory?

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens.

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter.

Taglist: @riddle-simp @kanroji-san @star-fawn21 @luthefriendlywitch @kameyo-kumo @solesurvivorjen @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @victheauthor @anielly-2010 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @bones4thecats @mmelionsblog @frompeach @nixie-writes @tired-of-life-86 @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @oucx @diamondzoey @alyriaschoenheit @lbcreations-blog @alastorsart @nunezs-stuff @sillypenguincats @theunknowntravel3r @imperfectbloodmoon @no1sillybilly @likesugarandcyanide @bladeismine @bones4thecats

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin spoilers #viviziepop #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #cw violence #tw violence #cw cannibalism #tw cannibalism #cw language #tw language #violet evergarden!reader #fem!reader #character!reader

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powerfultenderness · 10 months

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lord powerfultenderness, I don't know how to fully picture it but can we have neighbor könig doing grocery shopping with y/n? Please!~

I swear I saw a post somewhere that said König probably makes bank. And Sugar Daddy König hc born/accepted. This man will spoil you if you give him the chance (and then idk wreck you later?)

Either you were oblivious to the looks strangers gave you, to the way women quickly turned around and went down different aisles, or you didn’t care. It was, in fact, the latter. This big menacing looking guy beside you practically cleared a path wherever you wanted. Busy aisles you’d normally have to do trick maneuvers with your cart? Cleared out when he looked at other shoppers. It was amazing, really.

You stopped and looked up at the shelf, the item you wanted on the very top and if you stretched out…you still couldn’t reach it. Even before you could pout and try again, König reached over and plucked the box of snacks off the shelf and dropped in the basket.

Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled a bit, but you could tell he was smiling at you. “Those are car snacks.”

“Car snacks?”

You nodded and continued to push the cart down the aisle. You’d deviated from your shopping list so much that you were now just going up and down aisles to see if there was anything you needed.

“You know, snacks you keep in the car for emergencies. Like, getting stuck in traffic, or on the side of the road while waiting for a tow truck…or lost…”

“How often do you get lost?” He laughed, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his laugh at a reasonable indoor level.

“It was just the one time! My GPS wasn’t working!” It wasn’t your fault downtown was an impossible maze!

“What did you do?”

“I had a snack and figured it out.” You gave up and went home, but he didn’t need to know that.

Though he could probably guess with the way he was side eyeing you. You knocked your hip into his side (and he didn’t budge at all!) “What do you say to pasta for dinner?”

He titled his head, “you’re making dinner for me?”

“Yea, I want to do something nice for you for helping me out.”

König beamed at you, though you couldn’t see behind his mask and you were currently looking at one of the shelves. “I will eat whatever you cook.”

You laughed, it sounded so weird when he said it like that. “Alright, pasta it is.”

On the way to the checkout, you happened upon a display of clothing, mostly blouses and tee shirts, but some printed leggings as well. “Ooh, that’s cute.” You stopped and picked up a strappy sundress printed with your favorite flowers. “And my size!” You cheered to yourself as you looked at the tag. You flipped it over to check the price tag then set the dress back on the rack. “Pssh, not that cute.”

You looked at him just as he turned away from the dress you liked. “Hey, can you wait in line while I run and get my prescription?”

He nodded and took over pushing the cart as you handed him your debit card, “just in case it takes too long.”

It was a good thing you handed him your card too! There was a bit of wait while your prescription was transferred to the new in store pharmacy. You half debated whether or not you should just leave to pick it up another day, but you already missed a day and didn’t want to throw off the effects.

By the time you had your medication, König was waiting for you out front. “Sorry about that!”

He shook his head, “no problem.” And handed you the receipt and your card back.

You giggled as he loaded the bags in almost one scoop into the back of his truck. Your car was currently in the shop and he very quickly offered to help you out in the meantime.

“Thank you so much!” You smiled at him once all of the groceries were sitting on your counter.

“Anytime.” He answered simply.

“Still up for dinner tonight?”

He nodded, “of course.”

The little short answers, no hearty laugh included, were weird. But maybe he just had enough company for a few hours. “Alright, I’ll pop over later then?”

“Goodbye.” He nodded again and quickly left you alone.

Weird…

Whatever. Maybe he’ll feel better once he…oh!

You pulled out one of the very dresses you thought was cute, but too expensive, from one of the bags. König’s doing? You checked the receipt and it wasn’t listed. He…bought it himself? And hid it from you? Suddenly the way he was acting nervous before he left made sense.

König’s stomach flipped and his face burned when he opened the door later that night. You were standing in front of him wearing the dress he bought. “You look like an angel.”

You smiled and spun around, the dress flaring cutely as you did so. “I can’t believe you bought this! Thank you so much! But, let me repay you?”

“No. Have dinner with me?”

You giggled, you were already having dinner with him! “You sneaky man! Come on, let’s go!” You then grabbed one of his hands and started to pull him out and towards your flat.

“Wait. Let me lock up.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and locked the door with one hand, refusing to pull out of your touch.

“Oh. right!”

“You didn’t lock up, did you?”

“What! It’s just right there!”

König was laughing again as he followed you to your home, a dopey smile you couldn’t see lighting his eyes

[More neighbor König]

#anonymous #könig x reader #konig x reader #neighbor!könig #könig x fem reader #blurb #her prescription was birth control loloolll you cant be running out of that with him around #and idk the stores around here have clothing/electronic/toy sections so i hope this doesn't sound too weird

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unreliablesnake · 3 months

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Tough choice (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: After a successful mission, you get a lot of job offers. But there's one that gets your attention.

Note: We lost a hero, it's hard to fill his shoes. / This will probably get another part where Simon confesses his feelings. And tells the reader about what he thought of them during the first meeting.

Warnings: character death mentioned

Ever since that mission last year, people have been extremely interested in getting you on their side. You were swimming in options, going from briefing to briefing to find that one job which managed to pique your interest. The CIA wanted you higher up the ladder, giving you more responsibilities, while some PMC’s sniffed out what happened and were now trying to sweep you off your feet. Shadow Company offered a fortune for your services, but even Phillip Graves’s charm wasn’t enough to convince you.

And now Laswell brought you an opportunity that made you think. Task force 141. “Ask Alex for reference,” was all she said before handing you the number of Captain John Price.

It took days to get a hold of your friend, but once you did, he spoke highly of the team he helped out every now and then. “I think they need you to fill some big shoes. A sergeant was KIA and now Ghost needs a partner on the field,” he explained.

“Ghost?”

“Mhm. Man’s a mystery, but he’s damn good at what he does. If I were you, I would go for it.”

So you called Price and organized a meeting with him. This was the first round of the interview process, the opportunity to learn more about your possible future boss, the team, and, of course, how they operate. The captain works with a sergeant called Gaz, while Ghost had worked with Soap, another sergeant who had been KIA. That latter you already knew from Alex.

Price told you to visit the base the next time they're all there, and you gladly accepted the invitation. The team’s mystery man, the one you would have to work with, grabbed your attention. His superior spoke highly of him, and the fact Alex also emphasized that he was excellent at what he did made you curious. He certainly lived up to his call sign by keeping his identity so hidden. You didn’t know his name, you didn’t know his age, you didn’t know what he looked like. All you knew is that he was a Brit, just like Price and Gaz.

It took your schedules to align almost four weeks, but eventually you made it to their location and were greeted by the captain as if you were already a member of their team. His warm smile brought one to your lips too, and you soon found yourselves deep in a conversation about Kate and Alex. He liked working with them, and despite Alex being labeled a deserter, the team often crossed paths with him. That was good. Meeting him every once in a while would be nice.

“Ghost is waiting for us in my office,” Price began to say, only to pause for a brief moment when he stopped in front of a door. “But I think I’ll give you two the chance to talk alone. I already told him about you, even mentioned that I want you to work with us, but he has to be the one to finalize our decision.”

Nodding, you waited for him to open the door, then stepped inside the dimly lit room. The window shades were pulled down and the only source of light came from the small lamp on the desk. Ghost was sitting in the swivel chair behind it, his eyes scanning a file that you assumed was yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but Ghost interrupted you right away. “I want you on my team,” he stated sternly as if it was an order, then threw the file on the top of several other documents.

Despite your best efforts to keep things professional, a snort coming from you filled the room upon hearing his words. “So does everybody else,” you informed him, slowly folding your arms over your chest. “I already turned down several offers. Convince me; why should I pick this team?”

The lieutenant stood up and walked over to you, finally letting you realize just how much bigger he was. He was intimidating, yes, but that didn’t stop you from keeping eye contact with him. “You know Laswell. If you trust her, you can trust us,” he said.

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

“Then what do you want to hear?”

A sigh left your lips. It wasn’t about the money. If it was, you would be working for Shadow Company now. To be honest, you didn’t even know what you wanted from the job. But there was one question that bugged you since you first heard about this guy. “Are you a good person?” you asked him seriously.

Since you could only see a small part of his face, you almost missed that surprised glint in his eyes. “No,” came his answer.

For a few moments you just watched him, thinking about his response. He was honest, that you truly appreciated, but you could hear something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place yet. Regret? Pain? Doubt? Self-hate? Whatever it was, it made him sound and look human. Without realizing what you were doing, you took a step closer to him, making this giant man lean his hips against the desk to build back some distance.

“When can I start?”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the way his large fingers tightly gripped the edge of the desk at your words, as if he was trying to ground himself. Was he thinking about the sergeant he had lost? If it was you, your mind would always return to the person who died under your command. What if this one dies too? You would be asking yourself this over and over again. So you didn’t want to rush him, you just stood there and waited for him to pull himself together.

And then, after several minutes of deafening silence, he finally spoke up. “Good decision. Price will tell you the details,” Ghost informed you before moving past you to rush out the door.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare #call of duty #mw3 #mw2

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

Text

Heroes vs. Villains : Octavinelle

Gender Neutral Reader x Octavinelle vs. Rielle Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Octavinelle Version. ie. The Tweels' idea of fun is torture and an unsuspecting, red-headed, hero steps in to save the day

[PART 1] [PART 2]

You were floating contentedly on a soft, yellow, raft. Enjoying the sun on your face and the gentle lap of the waves against your toes.

And then you were not.

And who was to blame for your sudden descent into the swirling, shadowed, riptides of the bay? Well, a pair of sharp smiles popping in and out of your water-logged vision was proof enough. Go swimming with Jade and Floyd, Azul had said. They’ll genuinely appreciate it, he’d said.

And what if they kill me? You’d said. Eat me? Drown me? Fill my swimsuit with sand and rocks, and then leave me at the bottom of the ocean?

Oh, they like you too much for that, he’d huffed, something sour and resigned twisting at his mouth. They may just… play with you a bit.

CLUNK CLUNK went the first of many stones as Floyd unloaded his mucky haul over your flailing shoulders. You could see the bubbles of his laughter swirling through the water, soon joined by the more subtle froth of Jade’s chuckles.

You were half-way through planning the best sermon to mortify Azul at your funeral when a strong pair of decidedly-not-eel-like arms wrapped around your torso and hauled you back to the surface.

“Are you alright?!” A pause as you hacked up a bucket’s worth of salt water all over your savior’s shoulders. “Well, clearly you’re not okay—but let’s just—I mean—I’ll take you back to shore!”

And so, you were returned to the warm, sandy, beach curtesy of a kind, sun kissed, stranger with a surprisingly good backstroke.

Once you had your feet properly back on the ground and had vomited mouthful after mouthful of murky water from your gut, you finally had a chance to observe your hero in all his glory.

He looked about your age, but there was a self-assuredness to him that would normally either speak of many years lived or many years catered to. Judging by his goofy but sugar-sweet smile and the swim trunks embroidered with what looked like actual gold threading, you were going to guess it was the latter. His eyes were as blue as the water he’d pulled you from, and lit with a mischievousness that was placid enough not to set your hackles on edge. The swoop of red hair atop his head was shockingly bright (and shockingly well styled, considering he’d also been submerged in that sticky seawater just moments before). Not even Ace’s awful mess of a hairdo could have prepared you for the blinding crimson locks curling softly against the breeze.

“Thanks,” you managed to wheeze out, hands on your knees and practically doubled over entirely. God, you were going to murder those stupid twins. Or at least dump all of Jade’s mushrooms down the toilet. And maybe get Grim to piss on Floyd’s basketball shoes if he wasn’t too much of a coward.

“Of course,” he smiled, gentle in the way that one may approach a spooked animal. Frankly it was a bit insulting, but perhaps it was just that having lived so long amidst your beloved, heathenish, classmates, politeness of any kind came across as suspect. “Do you need me to get the healer? Or—excuse me—the doctor? Yes?”

“I don’t think I’m that dead yet,” you mumbled and gave yourself a whack on the chest for good measure. “But I guess only time will tell, huh?”

Your savior looked properly startled, and you had to remind yourself once again that normal people did not laugh off horrific brushes with mortality. Normal people showed empathy, and compassion, and wouldn’t have dragged you to the bottom of the goddamn lagoon in the first place.

Sunshine-Boy shook himself out of whatever funk had swept through his brain quickly enough, and he stepped towards you with another one of those insanely luminescent smiles.

“Well, despite the unfortunate circumstances, it is my very great pleasure to meet you. My name is Rielle Tidal!” he beamed, and swooped into an odd sort of half-bow. It looked very much like someone who’d only ever vaguely heard about the concept of a curtsy, and was trying to pull one for themselves. His lips quirked into a grin that was so wide and white it was practically seared into your retinas. “Youngest Prince of Atlantica.”

You just nodded, hoping it looked polite and not put-upon. At this point, you’d had more than enough of second princes, and crowned-princes, and so-rich-they-might-as-well-be-princes. Youngest princes probably wouldn’t be much better.

“A pleasure,” you huffed and spat a sea-soaked wad of hair from your mouth.

Rielle’s inhumanely radiant smile dimmed under your lack of enthusiasm and he tried again, shoving his hand back out for you to shake. You did, if only because his dejected expression made you feel like he’d caught you kicking puppies or something. You managed to gurgle your name out past your salt-slick tongue and the burning in your lungs. He repeated it slowly, carefully, like he was memorizing the way it felt in his mouth.

“Well then! Are you feeling a little better now?” he asked, genuine worry swimming in his blue eyes.

“I don’t think I’m drowning anymore,” you sighed, and gave one, last, proper, hack for good measure.

“That’s good at least!” he laughed. It was such a strange laugh—not in a bad way. Just… weirdly perfect. Tinkling like bells and so warm it nearly wiped away the heavy chill that had seeped into your limbs. The most perfectly-perfect laugh that you had ever head. The kind of sound that poets could write endlessly about. After spending months with people whose giggles sounded like the rumbling of chainsaws or the underscore of a horror movie, hearing something so lovely and normal was… unsettling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the tops of two very familiar heads crest above the waves.

You fought the very strong urge to stick your tongue out and flip them the bird.

Rielle noticed your change in focus and his sapphire eyes tracked out to the pair of twins bobbing up and down menacingly in the water.

“Are those your friends?” he asked.

“’‘Friends’ is a strong word,” you grit out.

“Is it?” he gaped. “Oh no! I’ve been using it all the time! Do you think I’ve been upsetting people?!”

You had to physically clap your jaw closed. Was this a real person? Actually? Could a creature so pure and bubbly actually exist in the same universe where someone like Azul could charge upwards of fifteen thaumarks for a single drink?

“I’m… sure you’re fine,” you placated.

Immediately he brightened. “Oh! That’s good! So can we be friends then?”

“You want to be friends. With me?” you deadpanned, shocked.

His cheeks bloomed a lovely shade of pink that somehow managed to not clash horrendously with his bottle-red hair.

“W-Well, maybe we could—”

“Awww~” came a horribly shrill, familiar, drawl. “Did Shrimpy make a new friend, hmm?”

“Now, Prefect,” followed an even worse voice. The one that had lulled you in once-upon-a-time with its deceptive politeness and professionalism. “You of all people should know how unfair it would be to attempt expanding your social circle further. What with all your commitments.”

“Who’s gonna’ scrub dishes with me, Shrimpy?” Floyd whined, draping himself over one shoulder. “Or make sure I get to basketball practice on time?”

“And what ever would we do without the Lounge’s most beloved executive assistant?” Jade hummed, pressing himself into the other.

“Suffer,” you spat, and Jade’s pointed smirk curled into a grin so sharp that you were a bit worried you were about to lose a chunk of your arm.

“Aw, see?” Floyd cried, tugging your closer to his soaking chest. “You don’t wanna’ be friends with this lil’ Shrimp, Princey. It’s mean.”

You fought the urge to bite his fingers. Prince Rielle was taking in the entire situation with a look of abject horror. And also… recognition? You could see his blue eyes narrow, as if in deep thought. And he was looking over Floyd and Jade’s ugly, snarling, mugs like if he squinted hard enough, maybe he could figure out just what exactly these two demon spawn were meant to be.

“Anways!” Jade smiled. “We ought to be going.”

“But you’re still soaked!” Rielle objected, turning back to you with a furrowed brow. “And you almost just drowned!”

“Ah. Did you?” Jade hummed, arching a brow at you. You stomped on his foot. He didn’t react.

“At least take this,” Rielle offered, rifling around in one of the discarded tote bags in the sand to produce a giant, fluffy towel. “And, uhm, maybe this too.” He pressed something small and silver into your hands. “To help brush your hair out, at least.”

“This is a fork,” you frowned.

“It’s a dinglehopper,” he corrected, looking horribly confused. And you decided to take back all the nice things you’d been thinking about him earlier.

“Well, thank you then. I think,” you huffed, accepting the ‘dinglehopper’ with as much grace as you could.

“I’ll be seeing you!” Rielle chirped, as Jade took one arm and Floyd took the other—bodily hauling you in the other direction.

“No, I don’t think you will,” Jade beamed, looking positively venomous.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #Jade Leech x reader #Floyd Leech x reader #Rielle x reader #My Writing #Octavinelle x reader #twst x reader #the tweels #jade leech #floyd leech #Rielle #Azul Ashengrotto x reader #Heroes vs. Villains #Heroes vs Villains Octavinelle Part 1

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heich0e · 1 year

Text

bittersweet - vash the stampede/f!reader (trigun stampede): 7k, listen there's only been 2 eps and i don't know the lore so i am loudy and emphatically declaring creative license, in my mind this is set before the start of stampede but not by much, heavy on the wild wild west core here, light angst, smut, fingering, needy vanilla sex, domesticity, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, boot-throwing related violence. 18+ NSFW MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

The desert smells bitter.

You wouldn’t think that sand would smell like much at all, but the fragrance that hangs perpetually in the air is heavy, singed, and acrid with the heady scent of life and its misery. Waste and runoff make their unpleasantness acutely known on the hottest days, and the fumes from old machinery that’s barely functioning thanks to age and disrepair—that no one can afford to fix, so they have to hold out hope it keeps running—clogs up the already noxious atmosphere as it rattles on throughout the day.

Mama used to tell you that outside of Jeneora Rock, the world smelled different. There’s somewhere else past the walls that mark the edge of the only town you’ve ever known, even past the wastelands—a place where almost no one ever goes, but that your Mama saw once. Or at least she said she did.

She told you it smelled clean. Sweet. Untouched by anything but the sun’s heat and the five moons’ glow.

Mama’s gone, has been for a long time now, and even though she never had much to give to you in the first place, that story is the most precious thing she left behind. You think about it almost as often as you think about her.

The end of another long day is marked by a familiar heaviness to your bones. Between the suffocating heat that makes you groggy and a hard day's work, there’s a palpable weight that bears down on you as you climb the never-ending metal stairs to your front door—your feet drag a bit more with every step.

The lock to your home is getting hard to turn. You’ve noticed it a few times now: a resistance as you slip your key into the keyhole, a pressure as you urge the mechanism to turn and let you in. There may be sand built up in there to clean out, or maybe it needs some oil.

But oil costs money, of which you don’t have much, so you really hope that it’s the former rather than the latter.

You examine the keyhole once you manage to force the lock open, dropping to your knees outside your door to peek into the narrow opening on the tarnished face of the lock. It doesn’t do you much good because the sun’s already dropped dark, and even if the light of day still hung overhead you doubt it would be enough to make the issue any clearer. You drag your thumb idly along a little scratch beside the keyhole that's probably been there for years; the metal is still warm to the touch from the heat of the day that still hasn’t quite broken, the surface a little rougher where the score is chipped in.

You sigh, picking yourself up off the ground and dusting off your skirt, and turn the knob into your home.

It’s dark when you get inside, but something feels wrong.

You shut the door behind you as you enter, pressing your back flat against it as your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark. Your home, like every other one in town, isn’t really much to look at even in the plain light of day. You’re luckier than lots of people though, you’ve got a couple rooms all to yourself where some families have no choice but to cram many people into just one. Papa left you this house, cause now he’s gone too just like Mama, but not much has changed since the day he left it to you—except now there’s less empty bottles rolling around underfoot, and you get to call the little bedroom off the main room yours.

It takes a second for your eyes to get used to the dimness with the door shut tight behind you, so you blink hard to make it happen faster. You see the rickety little table against the wall near the door, and the chair on the other side of the room where you sometimes sit by the window to mend your skirts when they wear and tear—but only when you get home early enough to catch the last few moments of sun, cause Mama always used to warn you about sewing by lamplight. The shutters on the window are closed and locked now, but there’s no light outside them to let in anyway.

Something shuffles in the dark.

Papa left you a gun, too. Even taught you how to shoot it. Mama hated that. She hated how good you were at it even more. She used to say that shooting was gonna be your husband’s job someday, and that even in a world this wicked Papa was teaching you things you didn’t need to know.

But now Mama’s gone. And Papa’s gone. And the world is still wicked. And you’ve got no husband, but you have a gun you know how to shoot.

You keep it and a little stash of 7 bullets underneath your bed where you can get to it quick, but it’s on the other side of the house, and even though that’s not very far away you don’t know what’s waiting for you between the door and your bed. You don’t know if it’s faster than you are, either, so running for it would be a fool’s errand.

Inside your chest, your heart starts pumping a little harder, ‘til you can feel the wet thump, thump, thump right in the back of your mouth.

You know you need light. You need to be able to see. You can’t make any decisions until you know what’s between you and your Papa's gun tucked up safe underneath your bed.

Slowly your eyes flicker over to the lamp on your table, just within reach.

You suck a little gasp into your lungs to steel your nerve. The air is less sour in here—more familiar, a little more comforting—but the acrid scent of the desert still lingers on the edge of each breath. Slowly you reach towards the lamp and flick it on.

“PLEASE DON’T SHOOT ME!”

The frantic plea frightens you so terribly that it sends you tumbling to the hard floor, landing flat on your ass with your back thumping painfully into the wall beside your door. In front of you is a face that has no right being as familiar as it is; eyes wide in panic beneath a round pair of glasses, blonde hair tousled in disarray, two hands (one flesh and one crafted) lifted in innocence.

Your heart is beating even faster now under the tight pull of your laced waistcoat.

“Are you an idiot?” you hiss, instinctively tugging your boot off your foot and lobbing it forcefully at the unexpected intruder. “You scared the daylights outta me!”

The man sidesteps the projectile easily, and it clatters to the floor. The expression on his face morphs from one of panic to something a little more chagrined.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, drawing out the word. His tone sheepish, and his lips pull into an apologetic little smile.

You place a trembling hand on your chest, pressing down on the spot where you feel your heart thumping the hardest and willing it to slow. You stare at your scuffed floorboards and take a few breaths to ease the frenetic beat of your pulse, and feel yourself begin to wilt as the adrenaline in your veins starts to fade.

“How’d you get in here, Vash the Stampede?” you ask, looking up again at the man in front of you from your place on the ground.

“I knocked first,” he says with a grimace, “but you weren’t home and I…”

“Broke in because you’ve got someone looking for you?” you finish his explanation for him, your tone flat and entirely unsurprised.

He sighs, shoulders slumping dejectedly as his head hangs forward.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

He lifts his chin only enough to guiltily meet your gaze.

“It’s just for one night,” he murmurs the plea, his bottom lip weighed down by a pout.

You shut your eyes tight, hands balling into fists over your skirt to hide the way they tremble.

“Fine.”

Vash falls to his knees in front of you, hands pressed to the floor as he gets right up in your face with a wide, cheerful grin. He’s almost nose to nose with you, the light of the lamp glinting in his glasses.

“Thanks so much! I promise I’ll be outta here before you know it!”

He doesn’t need to tell you that, because the pang in your empty stomach tells you that, even unspoken, you already knew it to be true.

Vash is travelling light again, just like the last time you saw him. He’s only got one bag that he begins to unpack onto the rickety table in your kitchen, leaving you to quietly go about your own business like you would if you hadn’t found him in your home that night. On the other side of the kitchen you unpack the meagre amount of food you’d managed to buy for yourself that day from little satchel you carried it home in. It’s barely enough food for one, and now you’ll have to stretch it between two.

“Where’s your father?” Vash asks as he fiddles with his gun at the table behind you. “I thought it was him coming through the door, and I thought for sure he was gonna blow my—“

“He’s dead.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Uncomfortable, even. Vash’s hands still even as yours keep quietly peeling the sad, withered skin from the vegetable in your hand with the blade of a half-dulled knife.

“I’m sorry,” his next words are quiet. “Your father was a nice man.”

“My father was a drunk who got himself shot in a bar fight with a merchant who came to town and was talking big. He just worshipped you because you saved the plant.”

That same uncomfortable silence creeps in again in the wake of your words, but after a few moments you hear Vash pick up his tools and start tinkering away at whatever he’s working on once more.

“Is the plant still running?” Vash is the first to speak again, though a fair amount of time passes before he risks another attempt at conversation.

“More or less,” you remark, setting a little pot on the stove to boil with whatever ingredients you’d been able to scrounge together into a meal. You watch the flame of the element burst to life as you flick the switch, a little hiss as the fire licks at the edges of your only copper pot. “Some days it’s more reliable than others. But whatever you did seems to be holding up all right.”

“Good!” Vash says behind you. “That’s good.”

You turn to face him, the unevenly mended hem of your skirt swishing around your ankles. You lean against the little countertop behind you, with your arms crossed behind your back.

“I’ll pop by the plant before I leave town—”

You watch as Vash’s fingers nimbly fiddle with his gun, broken down into its component parts to be cleaned and maintained. You’re sure it doesn’t need it—are certain he’s fired less shots from that gun in the two years since you’ve seen him than you’ve heard in town this week alone—but it’s kind of nice to watch him work, to appreciate how certain and precise his every move is, and to see how concentrated he is while he goes about it.

“—just to make sure everything’s still in good shape.”

He looks up at you, like for the first time he feels your gaze as it traces the lines of his profile. He smiles again, that same wide, willful expression of cheer that he always endeavours to wear even though he might be the person least entitled to it.

You hum. “I’m sure everyone would appreciate that. You should stop by to see Rosa too, she’ll box my ear if she finds out you blew though town and didn’t go see her.”

The two of you eat across the table from one another in silence. Just the scrape of cutlery and the occasional loud swallow passing between the two of you. Vash seems hungry, but appears to be trying his best to be at least a little restrained as he eats with you. Even though you’d given him the larger of the two portions, he’s still finished his plate before you’ve finished yours, but he sits patiently across from you waiting for you to swallow your final bite.

“I’ll take these,” he jumps to his feet before you have the chance to even push your chair back from the table, snatching both of your dishes up into his hands. “I’ll clean up, since you’re letting me stay.”

You don’t deny him, and instead slump back into your seat, dragging your wrist along your forehead. Your skin feels grimy from the hot day and the filth outside. Normally you would have bathed before you cooked, but you hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day—and Vash looked like it may have been even longer than that.

“I’m gonna wash,” you say, standing from your seat. You pause, your fingertips tracing against the rough, rutted surface of the tabletop. You know you don’t have enough water for two baths in your tank. You used to bathe with your mother when you were little, then once you were older and Mama was gone, you got the bathwater first and Papa would get in after you were done. It’s never been an issue until now. “Er—Vash?”

At the sink where your uninvited house guest is scrubbing at the dishes in the washbasin that you’d filled ahead of time, Vash pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. He’s taken off his familiar red coat, left hanging off the chair he’d been seated in at the table, and the black turtleneck he wears beneath it stretches taut over the musculature of his back as it faces you.

“The bath… there’s only enough water to fill it once. I don’t…Do you want…?” you aren’t sure what you’re even trying to ask him, but whatever is coming out of your mouth is even less clear than the thoughts running through your head.

“I’ll bathe second, don’t worry about me.”

Vash’s smile is gentle and obliging, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they narrow into little crescents. You nod stiffly, feeling heat flush through you at the softness in his expression, and shuffle off towards the other side of your home while avoiding his gaze.

The walls of your home are paper thin, and you’re certain that Vash can hear the splash of water in the tub as clearly as you can hear the scratchy, garbled sound of his radio from the other room. Once your skin’s been scrubbed clean of the day, you sit in the water with your knees pulled to your chest and your chin tucked between them. You strain to try to make out what’s being broadcast, but it’s difficult to hear since the reception in town is always so piss poor, and whatever coherent bits of news you manage to catch are just as abysmal as always.

It’s strange, hearing someone else in the house. It’s something you didn’t realize had become so foreign to you in the time you’ve learned to live alone. The idle puttering in the other room is a sound you didn’t realize you had missed. You lean back and dunk yourself into the water, where everything goes quiet.

The bathwater never gets very hot to begin with—tepid at the best of times, which seems unfair given the climate—but you know it’s not fair to waste time in the tub when someone else is waiting for it. You pull yourself up out of the metal basin, careful not to disturb the stopper in the bottom of the tub, and dry as much water from your skin as you can. Once you’ve deemed yourself sufficiently towelled, you pull on your nightdress and a threadbare housecoat overtop.

Vash looks up from the chair in the corner by the window when you emerge from the bathroom, and he meets your eyes so unwaveringly it feels decidedly like he’s trying hard not to let his gaze wander elsewhere. You fidget under his stare, fiddling with the fraying ends of the towel around your neck that’s catching the droplets that fall from your hair. He must realize that he’s unnerving you, because he averts his eyes to a point on the wall over your shoulder after a moment.

“My turn?” he asks, his tone chipper but polite.

“All yours,” you nod, stepping into your bedroom and leaving him to his business.

There’s an old trunk at the bottom of your bed where you keep some of the things your father left that you haven’t yet been able to sell or make use of. You find an old shirt of his near the very bottom, soft and worn-thin from years of washing. It’s something you could have easily sold or traded by now, but that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to part with—though you’re certain the day will inevitably come when sentimentality can no longer outweigh your basic needs.

You stand outside the bathroom door for a moment, your father’s shirt clutched tightly in your hands. You can hear the splash of bathwater you’re sure has gone cold from where you stand, only a few feet and a thin door between you.

You muster your nerve and tap your knuckles lightly against the door.

“I have a shirt if you need something to—“

The door opens, and you find yourself unexpectedly facing the bare chest of your one-night housemate, still damp and glistening from the bath, lined with silvery scars that the low light catches on.

You toss the shirt at him unceremoniously and turn quickly away, and Vash himself makes a little sound of surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be—“

“It’s fine,” you answer before he can even finish his apology, still refusing to meet his gaze. You gesture vaguely over your shoulder without turning. “Just take that.”

The bathroom door clicks closed again, and you clutch the belt of your housecoat over your diaphragm.

You need a drink.

You cross your home to the cabinet in your kitchen, reaching to the back of the nearly-bare shelf and pulling out a dusty old bottle that’s been there since your father died. It wouldn’t have lasted a day if he were still living, and you’ve made it years without ever so much as cracking it open.

Today however, you feel it’s well-deserved.

The dust caked on the bottle smears against your palm as you open it, and you wipe the grime furiously against the material of your housecoat as you pour a long glug of the amber liquor into a waiting glass. It’s vile, lukewarm from the constant heat of your home, and burns every inch of the way down—but as you set the empty glass back onto the counter, you still find yourself grateful for it.

You pour another drink.

“Take it easy,” you hear a voice say behind you, accompanied by a breathy little laugh.

You turn and see Vash hovering not far from you, his black turtleneck folded over one arm and your father’s shirt over his no-longer-bare chest. His hair is wet, a towel draped around his shoulders just like yours, and he’s taken off his usual eyewear. The mole underneath his eye seems more prominent now that he’s scrubbed himself clean.

Your empty glass dangles from the tips of your fingers, the acerbic taste of the liquor lingering on your tongue. You hold it out to him in offering, and he scrunches up his nose a little bit.

“I really shouldn’t—“

“It’s rude to turn down a drink your host is offering you, y’know.”

Things like rudeness don’t mean anything to anyone these days, least of all yourself. Decency is a luxury few people can afford.

Vash sighs, still smiling, and takes the glass from you. Your fingers brush as it passes from your hand to his, and then you take the bottle and pour another healthy splash into the waiting cup. He brings it to his lips, wincing against the fumes alone that waft up from the glass.

“It’s better if you don’t sip it,” you offer him, though even then you know the guidance doesn’t help much.

He tips it back and drains it.

Two drinks were enough to have you feeling woozy, but you pour yourself a third for good measure. You spare Vash the pain of another, much to his apparent relief, and let him off with just the one before tucking the half-drained bottle back into the cupboard you’d dug it out of.

When you turn around again, Vash is crouched down, examining something on the ground.

Your boot. The one you’d thrown at him earlier.

He peers up at you from the floor, he lifts the shoe slightly.

“It broke again.”

A memory floods back to you then, unbidden.

Sitting side by side with Vash on the edge of the steps outside the same house you live in now, but when the way you lived was different. The plant had just been repaired, and there was a palpable feeling of effervescent joy sizzling through the town around you. An uncharacteristic camaraderie amongst the people of Jeneora Rock as the celebration of Vash’s handiwork spreading through the narrow, grimy streets. The two of you were away from it all, sitting quietly together in a strange sort of celebration of your own.

You were less a woman than you were a girl back then, but still somehow neither. He’d patched the sole of your boot back on when it had ripped loose. And you’d laughed when he handed it back to you with an endearingly clumsy flourish, the sound as high and bright as the sun that hung in the sky overhead. You still remember the way your laughter had made his smile grow.

The patch job had lasted a year. You’d sobbed the day it came loose again, just shortly after the death of your father. You’d been using twine tied tightly around the toe of the boot to hold it together ever since.

Vash blinks up at you from the ground as you stare down at him with what you’re sure is a vacant look in your eyes.

“I brought you something,” he says, hopping up and skittering over to his rucksack with your boot still in his hand. He rifles around in the bag for a moment, his mechanical arm shoulder deep as he roots for what he’s looking for. His eyebrows shoot up and he grins when he locates it—a wide, brilliant smile splitting across his face as he pulls his arm out.

He holds his find up in triumph.

You look at it with narrowed eyes.

“What… is it?” you ask, after a moment of trying to identify the small, relatively unremarkable little container in his hand.

“Boot glue!” he says excitedly, waving it in front of your face. “I thought of you when I saw it! The merchant wanted an arm and a leg for it but I managed to—”

Tears have sprung up in your eyes against your will, and you quickly turn away from him to hide them from his sight.

“Hey, are you okay?” Vash’s voice is softer now, less enthusiastic and more concerned.

That softness is what upsets you more than anything. Tenderness is a foreign thing in the desolation of the wastelands.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, scrubbing your hand over your stinging eyes.

For thinking of me.

For knowing that you’d come back.

You leave that part off, but you feel it just as much as what you say.

You drain that third glass that’s been sitting on the counter waiting for you, hoping the burn of the liquor as it sloshes down your throat to your stomach will give you something else to focus on. Or, if nothing else, that it might numb the sudden pain that’s laid roots down in your core.

Vash sits at the table as he patches up your boot under the lamplight, much like he had the first time. You watch him from the chair in the corner, under the shuttered window, with your knees drawn up into your seat with you. You’re more shameless now than you had been while he cleaned his gun, observing him keenly as he scrubs your boot with a rag and leftover water from the dish pan. He makes sure no more grime clings to it before he carefully smears a thick layer of the glue along the sole, pressing down firmly to make sure the adhesion takes. He holds the boot up in front of him when he’s done, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth, eyeing it from every angle to survey his own work.

You watch him just as raptly.

He turns in his seat once he’s satisfied, holding the boot up.

“All done!” he says, hopping up to his feet and shuffling towards you. He crouches down in front of you and holds out his hand expectantly. Slowly, you stick your foot out, and he cradles it gently in his roughened palm.

Carefully he slips the boot onto your foot, tightening the laces once it’s fully in place.

“How’s it feel?” he asks you, peeking up at you from his place on the floor.

“Feels good,” you reply, with an equally breathy tone.

The lamplight doesn’t reach this corner of the room quite as brightly as it does at the table, but you can still make out a blush that sits high and pretty at the top of Vash’s cheeks. You wonder if he’s starting to feel the flush thanks to the liquor, or if maybe it’s something else entirely.

“G-good!” he stammers a little, fiddling with the laces at your ankle. “I’m glad!”

“That glue must have been expensive,” you say. “Thank you, Vash.”

He shoots you a smile as he loops his fingers through the laces. “It's the least I could do, especially with you putting me up for the night.”

For the night.

Just for the night.

The reminder makes you ache a little.

Vash helps you slip your boot off again, carrying it over to the door and setting it down beside its mate.

“I’ll leave this here for you, in case you need it again,” he says, screwing the top back onto the little pot of adhesive at the table. “There’s not much left, but there’s some.”

You nod from your seat in the corner, one leg up and one leg still down—your nightdress drawn up to your knee from when he’d helped you into your boot.

Vash ruffles the hair at the nape of his neck, dry now after his bath. Yours remains a little damp, but you’re sure it won’t last long as the residual heat from the day still hangs in the air even though the sun has long set.

“It’s late,” he finally says after a moment. “You should sleep.”

You hum in agreement, moving to stand from your chair. The room spins slightly around you, those three glasses you’d knocked back sneaking up on you while you’d been sitting down. Your foot hooks in the hem of your nightdress because of the way you’d been sitting, but before you can stumble theres a strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. A warmth pressing into you as your face meets a heaving chest.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Vash murmurs, his grip on you tightening for the briefest moment.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, and you don’t meet his eyes as you nod, letting him lead you towards your bedroom.

Your hands fumble at the belt of your nightdress, pulling it off and tossing the garment across the end of your bed as Vash helps you onto the mattress. You tuck your feet under the thin sheet before leaning back against your pillows, and Vash is quick to turn and head towards the door after helping you pull it up to your waist.

“Wait,” you call to him before he can retreat. He pauses in the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Where are you going to sleep?”

You hadn’t thought much about this, and you ought to have considered it earlier. You only have the one bed, but you have two pillows you can share and a spare blanket in the trunk at the end of it that you could offer him if he wants to sleep on the floor.

But you don’t want to tell him that.

“I’ll just take the chair,” he says with a blithe smile, jutting his thumb towards the armchair in the other room.

It won’t be comfortable. You know that from experience, having fallen asleep there a few times yourself after a particularly gruelling day. The stuffing is lumpy and the springs are painful if you press against them the wrong way. You know he won’t complain about it. You even know that it’s probably still more comfortable than lots of other places he’s rested his head over the past two years.

But you want to be selfish.

For once you don’t want to be alone.

“Vash,” you say quietly, and you watch his entire body go rigid at the sudden bare vulnerability of your tone. “Please stay with me.”

You’d asked him the same thing once before, but different. The words once murmured desperately against his lips as you clung to his red jacket. Staring at him with eyes full of hope and a freshly patched boot on your foot.

He’d looked at you the same way back then too. That smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. As gentle of a no that he could ever offer you.

“I know you have to leave,” you murmur, eyes downcast to your hands as they rest atop your lap. “I don’t expect anything like that from you. I know it’s just for tonight.”

“Please don’t cry.”

The bed dips beside you, and Vash tilts your face up towards him. He looks troubled when you meet his gaze, even in the dim light of your bedroom you can make out the conflict on his features. It’s strange to see him not smiling, wrong almost.

But your eyes are dry.

“Stay,” you repeat yourself, meeting his gaze resolutely. You swallow hard over the lump in your throat, bracing yourself for the impending sear of rejection.

Vash cups your cheeks in his hands, and you can’t tell if it’s your cheeks or his touch that feels so warm.

“You deserve someone that can say yes to that and mean it properly,” he says ruefully, not dissimilarly to what he’d said the first time you’d asked the very same thing of him.

“I’m not asking anyone else,” you whisper, “I’m asking you."

You wonder if your mouth still tastes like liquor as Vash’s tongue dips inside of it, hovering over you as you lay sprawled across your bed.

It didn’t start like this, of course. The first kiss had been gentle, hesitant even—like Vash wasn’t quite sure if he was going to see it through at all, poised to flee at any moment. But neither of you could deny how right it felt when his lips brushed yours, an immediate wash of relief and of unadulterated want inundating you all at once. You’d been the one to crane up and bridge the gap, but soon Vash was crawling into your bed overtop of you, easing you back to lay flat as he succumbed to the same need you felt thrumming through your veins.

Your hands are tangled in his hair now—a gesture that earned you a pitchy, needy little groan from him as your fingers twisted through the blonde strands. It only seemed to make him more eager as he parted his lips against your own in a deeper kiss.

There’s something a little clumsy about it all, an eagerness and inexperience to every touch and graze. But it’s not the same as it was at first, no longer hesitant or wary—his reservations have been peeled away as surely as the clothes the two of you are wearing, until you feel nothing but his skin against your own.

Vash’s hands are as greedy and rapacious as his mouth; touching, grabbing, grazing anything he can reach. His calloused fingers cup themselves around the swell of your chest, squeezing lightly, and when you reward him with a little moan it stokes the flames of his curiosity, and his touch moves to the pebbled bud of your nipple next. He rolls it tentatively between his fingers, pinching ever so slightly, and when you gasp against his mouth, arching further into his touch, he makes his own little pleased sound of surprise before lavishing your other breast with equal attention.

His metal hand touches you more gingerly than the other, and he tends to favour the one made of flesh and bone. The contrast in sensations is a little disorienting—smooth, hard metal versus the life-roughened heat of skin on skin. It’s dizzying. You want more.

“Vash,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your lips are stinging now from the constant kissing. He’s scarcely left your mouth uncovered by his own since they first connected, but at your hoarse whisper of his name he pulls back slightly, watching your face for any sign of reproach.

“Touch me more, please,” you say to him, cupping his cheeks as he presses his forehead into yours, both of you sharing the same breath in the little space between you.

He makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a hum, nodding a little, and kisses you again as his hands slip further down your willing, waiting form.

If he’s surprised by the wet wet heat he finds between your legs, it doesn’t stop him. One finger and then two find their way inside you slowly; he moves in gentle thrusts and scissoring motions that have your jaw going slack. His palm presses against the swell of your clit, and each time your hips jump it grinds into the heel of his palm, earning a keen from the back of your throat.

“Feels good?” Vash trails kisses up the top of your cheek until his lips are by your ear. His breathing is laboured and the air of each breath is hot as it ghosts across your skin. Your tongue feels leaden, but you nod repeatedly, wrapping your arms around his neck and keeping him close.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to breathe out, “’s good.”

It’s even better when you feel the stretch of him pressing himself inside.

The sound that’s pulled from the depth of Vash’s broad chest as he carves his way into you makes your toes curl—high and sweet and desperate.

“’S hot,” he slurs, his hips giving a shallow, desperate thrust.

He’s needy, pulling you closer as he moves you how he wants you. He loops your knees up over his elbows, his mouth frantically finding it’s way back to yours as the weight of his entire body bears down on you.

The next thrust is harder, deeper. And the pace only increases after that.

The rickety headboard of your old bed knocks against the wall each time he brings his hips down against yours. It’s loud, but so is the sound of skin on skin, and you have the distant thought as the bed frame creaks that it sounds like it might splinter underneath you—but you don’t find it in yourself to care as the pressure in you core steadily builds, threatening to burst. It blinds and deafens you to anything but the pulse that pounds in your throat. It makes your fingers curl against the skin of Vash’s shoulder blades until your nails dig into skin.

He’s still kissing you, wet and messy and noisy as his tongue presses into your mouth. He never stops kissing you.

It's nice to be with someone. To be touched. To feel wanted and needed.

Especially by him.

Your eyes flutter open, and as though he can sense your gaze on him Vash’s do the same. His expression is heavy-lidded as he pants, a little drop of sweat sitting high on the edge of his blushing cheek. He smiles a little, a soft, gentle expression you’ve never seen before.

A tenderness in his gaze unlike any you’ve ever experienced.

The pressure in your core comes undone.

He takes your face in his hands as pleasure rips through you like a sandstorm, blistering and unescapable. He’s still kissing you. Keeping you so near. In the haze it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins, everything clouded into something thats both and somehow neither. Something new.

“Close,” Vash whines, grinding his hips down against your own.

Your muscles ache, the pleasure has worn you raw, and your lungs are pricking with the need for a full deep breath you haven’t been able to draw into them now for some time. But even so, you don’t want it to be over. Can’t bear the thought of being apart.

The headboard rattles a few more times, and then the pressure between your legs is gone as Vash pulls out and spatters his spend across your stomach with a long, low groan.

It’s hot. The mess on your skin, the sweat that clings to you, the paltry breaths of air you draw into your lungs. Even the sheets of your bed have absorbed the heat from both of your bodies, sticking to your skin as you collapse into them in boneless heaps, chests heaving and hearts racing side by side.

You tilt your face towards the boy crowded into your narrow bed beside you, and find him watching you expectantly.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing a piece of hair away from your eyes.

You hum, leaning into his touch.

Vash’s gaze travels down your body, eyeing the mess he’s made of you with wide eyes. He pops up suddenly, clambering out of bed and tripping clumsily over the sheet that’s fallen half-way off the mattress as he skitters out the door. You’re not too worried that he’s going far, considering he’s still stark naked, but you watch the doorway curiously as you wait for him to return.

When he does, he has a cloth in hand—still damp from your bath earlier in the evening. As gently as he can, Vash cleans you up; the cloth cool is against your sticky skin, and feels nice. Once he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he presses a kiss to the valley between your ribs, lifting his face to smile up at you.

You shoot him a feeble smile back.

He slips into bed beside you once more, crawling up towards the pillows and pulling the rumpled sheet up to your chins as he goes. He settles in, and with one sweep of his arm he tucks you safely against his chest, with your ear resting over his heart. His hand pats gently along the back of your hair down your spine, keeping you close to him.

Vash smells good. Clean and comforting. It makes you think of the place your mother told you about once. You wonder if he smells like that place, or maybe even better.

You wonder if he’s ever been there before.

You wonder if he’d tell you if you asked.

You open your eyes, though the effort pains you in your exhaustion, and you see him peering back at you. Vash’s lips pull into a smile, but it's one of the ones that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. An expression that you know is more for you than it is for himself.

You think the two of you have a lot in common, then. That maybe the two of you understand the same loneliness. The same feeling of being haunted.

Your ghosts live on in the trunk at the end of your bed and at the back of your cupboard, covered in dust, tucked away out of sight.

Vash’s live on inside of him, and it’s where he seems determined to keep them.

In that moment you know that even if you were to ask, he’d tell you nothing—and he’d do it for your own sake.

Tomorrow you’ll wake and the air will smell bitter and burnt, and he’ll be gone, but your boot will be mended, and the little pot of glue will remind you he was there. But tonight you’ll dream about the place your Mama told you about, and tomorrow you’ll still have the smell that clings to your sheets. So for now, the world smells different.

And that has to be enough.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash x reader #vash x you #vash the stampede #trigun stampede fic #trigun stampede writing #writing

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oopsimbug · 5 months

Text

in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole

a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2

a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole

warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)

word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)

read part one here!!

Money…

It was what made the world spin around.

Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to.

This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.

Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that.

She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind.

Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table.

“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”

At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year.

As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him.

However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”

She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts.

“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-

“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.

Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.

“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”

Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”

“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it.

“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”

*****

After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…

She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness!

She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.

Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear”, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next.

Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact.

“Hello,” Y/n began.

The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Hello, love.” she gently replied.

Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”

She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.

“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf.

“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.

If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all!

“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.

“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.”

And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched.

“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of.

Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.

The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process.

“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking.

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.”

But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”

Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher…

Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage.

“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up.

“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond.

“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.

“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”

The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.

“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”

The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication.

This was it… she was finally going to help her family.

******

It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar!

“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl.

“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!”

Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!”

Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:

Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister.

*******

The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.

Above all, it was capital!

The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows.

It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.

She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket.

"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."

She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in.

"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued.

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.

"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs.

"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"

Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!"

"My nephew does too!"

The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits.

*******

The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home.

"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile.

"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."

Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her.

However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…

Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.

"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her.

It was her arch nemesis.

His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles.

"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone.

"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.

"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?"

Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.

"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart."

He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"

"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"

Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."

If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.

They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.

Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking.

"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him.

Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.

So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…

He won’t get away with this.

********

Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.

“Was the house big?!”

“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”

“How many servants did she have?!”

“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”

“Any handsome sons?!”

“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”

“How was your day, Y/n?”

The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”

“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.

Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.

“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.

“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.

Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.

“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”

Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”

Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”

Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”

Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”

“Harry Styles.”

Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”

Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”

Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”

Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”

Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”

Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”

The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”

“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.

Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”

Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass.

“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”

“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”

The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down.

“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences.

“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.

“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”

Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”

“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone.

“What?”

A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you”

Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became.

Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”

Never in a million years…

*********

“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!”

Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”

Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”

Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour.

Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!

Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began.

“Grumpy…”

“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.

“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.”

If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?!

Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”

He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to.

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.”

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch.

“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”

Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…”

If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”

Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property.

Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”

Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip...

…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.

“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”

Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine.

What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.

So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.

About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.

“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily.

“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package.

“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry.

Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.

But that is not what happened.

Not at all.

Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”

What. The. Hell?

Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!”

Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.

Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too.

“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!”

Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile.

“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-

“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.

And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew.

As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…

She was going to have to be civil with Harry.

**********

Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!

It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…

But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky.

“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”

There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another?

“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”

Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down.

“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-”

Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper.

Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her…

Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.

There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out…

Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful…

So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created.

Left, right, left again, right again.

The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.

Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways.

She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up.

She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent.

Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents.

A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings.

Bingo! The infamous library!

Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens.

Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read!

But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…

If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?

Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and-

Damn!

If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be…

She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers.

“AHH!”

“Shit!”

The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.

He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically.

Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library.

He seceded first! HA! She won!

This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.

Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?

Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…

Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go…

Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way.

But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory.

It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…

But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.

#regency!harry #regency!harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles enemies to lovers #regency!harry enemies to lovers #by bug

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rorywritesjunk · 5 months

Text

No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you're fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn't want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn't necessarily take husband's feelings into account as well.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I'm just trying to vibe off what I've seen of Kid Buggy. I'm no expert. I'd protect that kid with my life. He's so adorable. I also like the trope of "Meeting your self from another time" and "gets turned back into kid-self". This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don't know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them.

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue

Chapter One

You would have thought you drank the pub dry the night before and were still drunk with what you were seeing in front of you. Except you very much didn’t drink. You stayed back on the ship, wanting a quiet night while the rest of the crew and captain went to drink the pub dry. You were perfectly sober, no hangover in sight, but you really weren’t sure what you were staring at.

Blue hair, red nose, and a scowl you knew all too well was in front of you, clutching something in his little hands while looking you up and down. “What?!”

“I… don’t know.” Which was true, you didn’t know. The kid in front of you looked every bit like the captain who was currently sleeping back on the ship, having managed to find his way home without falling off the docks and into the water to drown(this time). He never mentioned having a kid, ever, and considering how long you knew the captain and your relationship with him, and guessing the kid’s age, you would have been having a very serious talk about infidelity and why keeping your love child a secret? Seriously? wasn’t good for relationships.

“Why are you staring at me?!” The kid snapped. “Don’t stare at me!”

“Sorry!” You smiled and knelt down in front of him. “You just look so much like someone I know, I was confused. I promise I wasn’t staring.”

The kid was on guard, tense, and looked ready to bolt, but you were curious. He just looked so much like Buggy that he had to be an offspring or some kind of relative, but the scary thing to you was how much he really looked like Buggy; he had kept some photos of his childhood onboard the Oro Jackson, and you knew what he looked like as a kid. He would show them to you on nights when he was drunk and reminiscing about the good ol’ days, singing shanties and drinking heavily. Last night was one of those nights before he passed out asleep in bed.

“What’s your name?” You finally asked. The kid didn’t seem sure about telling you, but he must have felt brave because he straightened up and smirked at you.

“I’m Buggy!” He told you, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’m an apprentice under Captain Roger, y’know, and I’m one of the best already!”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Yea, no, something weird was going on. Why was there a kid who looked like Buggy, had the same name, and was talking about Captain Roger like he was still alive? Was this an elaborate make believe game the kid was playing, or were you staring into the eyes of your husband’s childhood self?

Weirdly enough, the latter made more sense to you. You heard of this happening, stories from sailors and pirates alike, but the stories were overheard at the bar after too much alcohol was consumed. Stories of children appearing for several days on a ship, like ghosts from a distant past, only to disappear again without a trace, but sometimes it happened the other way around, with the storytellers insisting that they met themselves as a child in the past, got to relive some memories, good and bad, before coming home again.

“Yea?” You grinned. “That’s impressive, so where’s your crew? Your ship?”

The smirk vanished and he deflated a bit, looking around with the smallest bit of worry. “I don’t know. I was in front of them and there was some kind of flash of light, and… I don’t know where I am.”

“Oh, well, want me to help you look for them?” You asked, knowing all too well that his crew was nowhere around, he was not where he thought he was, but you didn’t want him getting into any trouble (which you knew was difficult because as an adult he managed to get himself into enough trouble). “If we don’t find them, you can stay with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I-I don’t need to be kept safe!” He snapped. “I’m tough, okay? I can take care of myself!”

You made sure not to laugh, but it was hard not too. He was so cute as a kid that saying those things with such passion and intensity just made him even more adorable. Instead, you nodded, agreeing with him as you held your hand out to him to take.

“Well, how about something to eat? I’m just finishing up a supply run for my ship.” You said. “I’m happy to make you something before we find your crew.”

He looked at your hand, looked at you, then back at your hand before hesitantly taking it. Whatever he held in his hand he put in his pocket, making you wonder what he stole before coming here. You decided not to test the waters yet, he was feisty, proud, and if you treated him like a kid then he wouldn’t be very happy. You needed to treat him like the apprentice that he is, proud, determined, and passionate. Once his hand was in yours, you gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled at him as you started walking back to the docks.

“I have fresh apples and peanut butter, if you’d like that as a snack.” You said, eyeing him with a grin as his face lit up. That was the same snack you’d promise the captain whenever you wanted something from him. It wasn’t fancy by any means, just a simple snack, but you kept the peanut butter hidden from him so he never knew where to find it. The way the kid’s face lit up told you all you needed to know that this really was Buggy as a kid.

Oh, it was about to get fun on the ship.

“-and then I stole it!” Buggy exclaimed with a laugh, holding up the pendant for you to see. He had just finished telling you of his latest act of piracy, stealing some necklace from a vendor on the streets. You had fed him, given him something to drink, and you couldn’t help but walk over to him once he finished talking to wipe some of the food off his face with a dish towel. He was caught off guard and made a face at you when you did that.

“Pirates with food on their face scare no one.” You chuckled as you slung the towel over your shoulder before clearing the dishes in front of him. “And then what happened, Buggy?”

He fell silent, brow furrowed as he thought of your question. What did happen? He took off running, met up with the crew, and then a flash of light and he bumped into you-

“Buggy?” You tapped on the table in front of him, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yea, yea.” He mumbled as he looked down at the pendant in his hand. “Next thing that happened was I ran into you.”

He quite literally did. You had just stepped out of a shop when he walked right into you, and you had been in shock of seeing him that you weren't bothered that a kid was yelling at you about being in the way.

“Oh!” You nodded and went to refill his glass. “Well, you can stay with me until we find your crew, okay?”

“Are you a pirate?” He asked. “I'm on a pirate ship, but you don't seem like a pirate.”

You laughed softly at that, shaking your head. “I'm not, no. I don't do piracy, just help with the upkeep of the ship. My husband, however, is a pirate.”

“What?!”

“Yea, he-”

“It's too loud in here.” Someone grumbled from the doorway. You both turned to look; the kid’s eyes widened and you grinned. And there he was, groggy, a little hungover, and obviously needing food and coffee if he was going to start the day. You went over to him and led him to the table, helping him sit down before you started on the coffee. “Time?”

“Lunch time.” You chuckled. “That's what time it is, honey.”

He glared at you, oblivious to the guest that was staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Buggy was a little hungover, having had his fair share of alcohol the night before. Normally you had the coffee ready for him before he woke up, so he was confused and unhappy that it wasn't readily available for him at that moment.

“It's too early.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What's for lunch?”

“Wake up first.” You brought him a cup and kissed the top of his head. “But I need you to look across the table before you drink that coffee, honey.”

Buggy looked up at you, eyes squinting in confusion. You took hold of his head and turned it in the direction you wanted him to look, and a few seconds later he pushed back from the table while you still held his head. Swearing, you popped it back onto his neck.

“W-What is going on?” He shrieked upon seeing the kid. Thankfully Kid Buggy remained seated, but you could see the confused look on his face. The two were staring at each other, mirror images except for the age difference. Before you could explain, your husband got up, marched over to the kid, and picked him up by the back of the shirt, carrying him out of the kitchen.

“Buggy-” You went after him, not sure what was happening.

“Hey! Put me down!” The kid shrieked, fists swinging and legs kicking.

Buggy didn't respond and before you could stop him, he tossed the kid over the side of the ship and into the water. You couldn't believe he did that. You rushed to the side to look over, relieved you saw the kid treading water. So this was definitely a young Buggy, pre-Devil Fruit, otherwise you would have thrown your husband overboard after the kid. You threw a rope down to him while your husband went back to the kitchen, rambling on about curses and bad omens.

You wanted to know what the hell that was about.

“I’m fine!” The kid insisted as you wrapped his hair up in a towel. His clothes were soaked and you did not have anything that would fit him, so he was currently wearing an old shirt of Buggy’s until his clothes dried. They were draped over a chair in the bedroom, the pendant he stole earlier sitting on your shared dressing table.

“I don’t need you getting sick, sweetie.” You sighed as you used another towel to make sure his face was clean. You were mindful of the nose, touching the towel to his face except there. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“Why did he do that?” He grumbled as he crossed his arms, glaring up at you.

“Because pirates are superstitious fools.” You told him. “And… seeing you scared him I guess. I don’t know, I’m going to talk to him.” Carefully, you unwrapped his hair, making note that he needed to have it brushed to keep from tangling too much. You got up and set the towels aside before grabbing your hairbrush. “Buggy, I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you to get scared, okay?”

“I don’t get scared!” He insisted. “Not like that guy! I’m braver than him!”

“Okay, here’s the thing about my husband-”

“Don’t tell him anything!” Your husband suddenly appeared in the doorway, glaring at the two of you. “Where did you find him? Who is he?!”

You weren’t bothered by his mood, but you wanted to make sure the kid felt safe. Without a word you moved between the two, keeping Kid Buggy behind you as you crossed your arms.

“We ran into each other, Buggy.” You told him firmly. “He got separated from his crew.”

“Crew?!” Buggy shook his head. “No, get him off this ship. He could be… a kelpie or something. Get him out of here!”

“He’s not a kelpie.” You sighed.

“You don’t know that!”

Rolling your eyes you looked down at the kid. He had grabbed hold of your pant leg, gripping it tightly as he stared at the man in the doorway. This was a lot for both of them but you needed the captain to calm down. You knelt down and touched the kid’s bare toes. He took a step back and gave you a weird look.

“Human toes, no hooves.” You pointed out. “He also mentioned the Oro Jackson and being an apprentice…” You looked back at your husband. He paled and shook his head. This was too much. This was not him, this had to be some form of trickery, or a shapeshifter. “Besides, I’ve spent enough time with my husband to know when I’m with him as a child.”

Kid Buggy’s eyes widened, looking between you and Adult Buggy. Child? Was… this supposed to be him in the future? As an adult? His jaw dropped, he couldn’t believe it. You smiled at the expression on his face, pleased the kid was in awe of this.

“I turn out to be a drunk loser?!” The kid shrieked. “Why?!”

Okay, that was not what you expected. You slapped your hand to your face while your husband looked ready to throw the kid overboard once again. Kid Buggy just shook his head, not believing this. Was this an alternate reality of some kind? He wouldn’t be like this. Was this guy even a pirate? He didn’t seem like it from the little bit the kid had seen already. He was not impressed in the slightest.

“I want him gone.” Buggy snapped. “No kelpie or bad omen crap is allowed on this ship!”

He stormed off after that.

#buggy the clown #sunny x buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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joonberriess · 1 year

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⊹₊ ⋆ “i just can’t wait for love to destroy us,”

TAGS — praise kink, soft smut, lazy sex, rough sex, jealousy, POSSESSIVE JK HEHE, lots of dirty talk, breeding kink, creampies, daddy kink, it’s really soft :(

WORD COUNT — 4.2 k

BEFORE…

You never thought you’d find yourself in a position where your first serious relationship was someone twice your age and was old enough to be your father. If you would have told the fifteen year old you that your love interests derived from your daddy issues she would have looked at you like you were insane. You still had a bit of trouble believing your case.

It wasn’t that you regretted getting into a relationship with Jungkook, quite the contrary, he was everything you could ever ask for. Besides, it was a guilty pleasure of yours whenever you thought about the circumstances of your relationship with the latter. The fact that he was older and the relationship taboo made it all more exciting for you.

However the thing that excited you more was Jungkook’s possessive streak and jealousy. Jungkook knew the game given that he had done it himself when he was your age and messing with girls, and one thing he disliked was the amount of boys who were after you. You were a pretty little thing it was obvious you’d have suitors here and there chasing after you.

You paid them no mind like you always did even before Jungkook. Whenever another guy approached, flirted, or even dared to look your way Jungkook sure as hell did not appreciate any of that. The first time it happened Jungkook made sure to fuck you so good the only thing you could think about was him, him, him. The more jealous he was the rougher the sex.

He’d say things like “Can’t have my baby running off with those nasty boys,” everytime he was in one of his moods. You secretly loved how possessive he was over you, making sure to leave dark hickeys on your neck and if he was feeling bolder, he left them down your thighs for the world to see whenever you wore those pretty little skirts.

His words were one-hundred times more filthier when he was fucking you like no tomorrow. His hips would be snapping harshly into yours over and over again, with him pinning you to the bed. Jungkook has his face tucked away in the crook of your neck while he tightens his grip on your hips. A soft low growl leaves him when he suddenly recalls how that stupid guy had the audacity to cat call you and even boldly ask for your number in front of “your old man”.

“Bet he wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this sweetheart,” he rasps in your ear, “you need a man to fuck you, ain’t that right baby?” He hits a particular spot inside of you, causing a tiny whine to escape, “Gonna have to ruin this little pussy so next time you even think about anyone else you remember how good I fucked you.” He teasingly nips at your neck.

Jungkook didn’t talk about it much but it was obvious he was a tad bit insecure over the age-gap with you. You were young, he was older, and without a doubt you still had the world to explore. He didn’t want to be the reason you stopped all of that just for him, sometimes he felt like it was going too fast for you. You thought otherwise.

Hani wondered a lot too about your interests in guys from campus. She asked a lot too. “Sooo are we going to ignore the obvious elephant in the room?” She elbows you with a soft smirk, “I mean I can’t be the only one who saw that back there?”

You hold your books tighter against your chest and side-eye, upon seeing her little shit-eating grin you roll your eyes, “Jesus Hani,” you whisper shaking your head, “it’s nothing, I don’t even know him like that. Stop..!” You smack her arm, watching her laugh loudly, “I’m not interested in him or anyone here for the matter of fact.”

“Really..?” Hani snorts, “So you like no one, you sure about that? Or is there something you’re not telling me? Cause there’s no way I just watched you reject that cutie back there.” She grins, poking your side, “Ooh I get it, you like someone from somewhere else don’t you?”

“Hani!” You giggle, “Stop, I’m not going to tell you who it is..!”

“So there is someone!” She squeals, wrapping her arms around you and happily leading you off to the parking lot, “Awww how cute, do you really like him a lot? Is he super nice and handsome? Do you guys go out on dates??” She rambles off.

You shyly smile at her and nod, “We do Hani, and yes he’s super nice and handsome like you say. I really like him a lot, he makes me happy, you know?” You softly say.

“Damn, and he doesn’t worry at all? You’re quite the catch girl, if I were him I’d be thinking ‘bout you twenty-four seven. The long distance doesn’t make him sad and stuff?” She softly pouts.

You shake your head, “No not really. I talk with him a lot and we hang out sometimes when I’m not busy with work or class. It’s all good if I’m being honest Hani.” You trail off, mind wandering to other things.

“Gonna make sure all those little boys know who the fuck I am sweetheart, hm? Go on and tell daddy who you belong to?”

Heat spreads all over your body as you silently check out, not really paying attention to a word Hani is saying to you. Hani is rambling that’s for sure, but you’re so lost in your obscene thoughts you pray she doesn’t notice you subtly rubbing your thighs together. Did the weather recently get hotter or was it just you..?

“There you go, you look so good taking me like that baby.. Go on, show daddy how much you love my cock.”

“y/n!” Hani yells, “Are you even listening to me?” She pouts.

You snap out of your thoughts and turn to her, “I’m sorry, what were you saying? I kinda spaced out.” You chuckle nervously, embarrassed she caught you in the throes of your daydreams.

“I asked if you wanted to get some lunch? On me,” she smiles gently as she unlocks the car, “sometimes I wonder what goes on in your pretty little head.” She chuckles, slipping into the driver seat.

You blink slowly, still a little dazed but you mumble “ ‘s nothing really.” and then slip into the car. You spend the rest of the car ride thinking about Jungkook..

NOW..

Jungkook hadn’t left you alone after finding out you were pregnant and you were terrified he was going to slip up and Hani would find out. Of course you didn’t mind his clinginess since you had spent a good week to yourself in fear, terrified about how he’d react to the pregnancy and whether or not he would accept it. Right now you felt like you could use the comfort and closeness he had to offer.

“Fuck I haven’t felt like this since I found out about Hani years ago.” Jungkook murmurs one night when you’re both laying in bed together. Hani was out for the weekend since she was traveling down to meet her mom somewhere for a girl’s weekend. “I don’t know how to feel, but I am happy that’s for sure.” He grins softly, rubbing over your tummy.

You timidly smile back at him and nuzzle closer, “I’m a little nervous but I think I’ll feel better once I’m closer to giving birth and stuff.” You softly murmur and play with Jungkook’s necklace.

Jungkook gently settles his hand over your hip and squeezes, “Are you hungry baby? I don’t remember much about pregnancy and stuff but how’s the morning sickness? Cravings?” He smoothly rubs his hand over you with a lovestruck expression on his handsome face.

You shrug, “The morning sickness is dying down, it isn’t as bad as before.. And well I don’t know about my cravings, I wanna eat a lot of weird things but they’re embarrassing to talk about.” You quietly huff, angrily pouting as you avoid his gaze.

Jungkook snorts softly, “Weird? There’s no such thing as weird baby, tell me one of your cravings. Let me hear how “weird” it is.”

“I like to eat pickles dipped in strawberry yogurt. Sometimes I even go to those convenience stores and buy pizza rolls to eat with peanut butter, oh and I really love to eat the chicken Hani brings dipped in honey!” You smile innocently, “ ‘s the baby to be honest, they’re the ones making me eat all this weird stuff.”

Jungkook’s shoulders begin to shake and you pout, “You just told me there’s no such thing as weird, why are you laughing?” You huff, “Hey..! Stop laughing at me.” You whine.

“I’m sorry baby but you’re so fucking cute, lookin’ so proud of yourself..” He chuckles, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, “I can picture it now, pickles and peanut butter covered nuggets.”

Your eyes widen, “I didn’t think of it like that, wow… so cool..” You trail off, mouth watering already as Jungkook laughs in the background.

Hani doesn’t come back until the end of the weekend, and you certainly took advantage of it. Jungkook and you fucked like rabbits all over the house, being as loud as you wanted given that there was no one around. It felt nice not having to stay quiet or on alert during sex.

The night Hani returned she had stated she was too tired to even shower, opting to say goodnight to you and Jungkook as she went upstairs to her room. You were planning on going to your own room to sleep in but Jungkook’s sultry gaze said another thing. You ended up following him to his room as quietly as possible, hoping Hani stayed knocked out for the rest of the night.

One thing led to another and you two had a quickie before bed. You went to bed sleeping like a baby, happily satisfied after being fucked thoroughly. Jungkook slept with an arm around your waist, faced tucked away in your neck as he breathed your strawberry scent in. You had gone to bed in one of his shirts with only your panties underneath.

All was peaceful until about two am when your bleary eyes opened after feeling Jungkook’s hand creep up the shirt to gently massage your sore tit in his big hand. Jungkook was half-awake, grumbling quietly as he tried to pull you in closer. At first you thought he was sleep groping you but then you felt his hard throbbing cock pressed up against your thigh through his boxers.

“.. Jungkook?” You murmur, turning on your side to face him as you cup his cheek.

He nuzzles into your hand and hums, “Yeah..?”

You gently peck his lips three times, each little kiss lasting longer than the last one, “Can feel you.” You softly say.

He lazily rolls his hips against yours and slithers his hand out from under the shirt, instead choosing to grip your hip. “Can you?” He has a coy sleepy smile, “Maybe we should do something about it?” His voice is husky and rough from sleep, his eyes flutter open and he looks at you with want and lust.

You eagerly press against him, tossing your leg over his hip and trying to grind yourself against his cock. “Please,” you bite your lip, all drowsiness slowly leaving your body.

Jungkook leans over to bring you into a slow but deep kiss, “I got you baby, let daddy do all the work.” He says and begins tugging your panties down your thighs.

You tuck your face in the crook of his neck and suck on the soft patch of skin while he blindly reaches over for the lube that sits on the nightstand. You hear the sound of the cap opening and Jungkook lathering some lube between his fingertips. Your breath hitches in excitement, hooking your thigh over his hip firmly to make sure he has enough space to fit his fingers, and then his cock in.

Jungkook doesn’t bother with slipping his sweatpants all the way down, cock slapping against his stomach as it springs out of its confinement. He hisses low and strokes over his throbbing cock, making sure to coat it in the lube before he presses the tip between your soft folds.

“Gonna fuck you pretty girl.” He whispers.

Your lips part as a breathy moan escapes, hips twitching as his cock fills your cunt to the brim. There’s an audible squelch in the background and then a wet slap following in suit when he bottoms out. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

He draws another moan from you when he ruts against you slowly, cock pressing in deep. Jungkook groans softly, hand tightening around your hip in effort to hold himself back from fucking into you roughly. He starts up at a slower and lazier pace, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of your soft pussy wrapped around his cock.

You wrap a hand around the back of his neck, playing with his hair as he gently fucks into you. Soft little moans leave you here and there, the squelching gets louder as your pussy drools over his cock. Pleasure bubbles up in your tummy, adding to the heat you feel deep inside. Jungkook’s hitting every spot that leaves you quivering underneath him.

“So good for me,” he moans out, “can feel you gripping me so good baby.” He pants hotly against your lips.

You let out a long moan and your eyes fluttered shut as your pussy clamped down on his cock. His hips stuttered in their movements, a gasp escaping him while he weakly snapped his hips upwards. You reached down to rub fast small circles onto your clit, whining and moaning breathlessly because your orgasm is rapidly building up, you’re definitely going to be sleeping well after this.

“Cum for me baby, make a mess on daddy’s cock.” He rasps out, hips kicking forward faster and faster.

There’s audible wet slaps, the bed creaks lightly from the force and Jungkook’s groaning becomes louder. You manage to muffle your cry as you bury your face away in his neck, gripping him tightly and letting go. Your cunt gushes around his cock, making a mess alongside the lube he had already lathered on his cock. The sound is fucking filthy and your lower half is soaked from your slick.

He mutters curses under his breath, hips slamming forward until he stills, roughly pressing up against you and making sure his cock is buried deep while he cums. “Fuckkkk,” he whispers out contentedly. Cleanup is a fairly quiet ordeal and you end up going back to sleep in his arms.

The next morning after Jungkook leaves for work, you make your way downstairs with a tired sigh. You had made sure to wear your own pajamas because Hani was home for the day since she had no classes nor work. Hani was in the kitchen cooking something, humming under her breath as she sang some new song you heard on the radio.

“Oh, hey,” she smiles brightly at you, “just in time I made us some breakfast,” she showed you the pan full of hot food, “did you sleep well?”

You nod slowly, “I woke up like once because I had to puke but it wasn’t too bad, how about you?” You take a seat on the stool by the kitchen island, licking your lips hungrily as she serves you a portion of what she had made.

“Could have been better, I heard dad last night. I didn’t think he had it in him still but I stand corrected.” She laughs, shaking her head, “Like Jesus did he sleep with a vampire? His neck was all bruised up this morning!”

Your blood runs cold, you stare at the food trying not to show your obvious guilt and nervousness. Hani luckily turns her back to you as she opens the fridge in search of some juice, “That’s good though, dad rarely goes out these days so I’m sure last night was like something magical for him.” She snorts.

“Yeah,” you trail off, “magical.”

Growing up in a somewhat conservative home altered your mind as an adult, not by a lot but some things stuck with you. It primarily had to do with the fact that you were so desperate for your parents’ approval you were willing to change everything about yourself to fit their standards. It wasn’t until Hani broke you out of the cycle that you started thinking more about what you liked and wanted to try.

Although you were still a tad bit shy, you were more eager to try new things. That’s how you found yourself at a lingerie store, nervously clutching your bag around your body as you slowly stepped in. The store obviously had its sections to choose from, but this was all too new for you. It was quite overwhelming.

You timidly looked around and eyed the different displays showing off the raunchy designs, some downright scandalous and others simple and dainty. Your mind was racing and it was too much to take in and you began thinking it was a bad idea after all. As you turned to walk back out, a worker called out to you.

“Are you finding everything alright Miss?” She smiles warmly.

“Oh, uh, yeah I’m fine,” you nervously squeak out, “just browsing is all..”

“Are you looking for anything in particular? Need a bra size check?” She holds up her measuring tape.

You chew on your bottom lip and look around again, “I actually came to get something to surprise my boyfriend with.” You admit softly, “It’s my first time so I don’t really know what is.. Good?”

She chuckles softly, “Well we have a lot of new sets and designs that just came in about a week ago, can I show you? Besides, it’s not about what’s “good” it’s about what you like.” She ends up showing you a whole collection of pretty and dainty lingerie sets, not too raunchy but not too innocent either.

In the end you go with a pastel baby pink set which is really just a bra, cheeky panties, and a garter set. You buy the stockings to go along with it and take your purchase with you home. You’re excited, practically bouncing in happiness as you reach home and start to get ready.

You take your time showering and then preparing afterwards, lathering yourself in lotions and oils. At first you kind of don’t know how to put the garter belt on and then it turns into you struggling with the stockings. When you finally finish the look you’re left sitting in your bed tired, “Damn, this is harder than I imagined.” You sighed.

You stand up after a couple of minutes and head over to your mirror, gasping quietly at the sight of you. The panties cup your ass perfectly, both cheeks sitting so pretty and your tits cupped in the silk bra. Something about the garter belt makes you flush in excitement and arousal. You must admit that you look fucking hot in the lingerie set.

“I wonder if he’s on his way..” You mumble, going to check your phone for any new messages from Jungkook.

jungkookkk<3 : on my way, i stopped by to pick up some lunch for us.

You bite your lip and send him a quick text saying you’d be in his room waiting for him then. It doesn’t take long for him to come, you’re laying in his bed trying to calm your nerves and excitement. “Baby I’m home!” You hear him toss his keys into the bowl and shuffle around in the foyer and then kitchen.

“Up here,” you call back, leaning back on your elbows and raising your leg in the direction of the door as you pretend to admire your stocking clad thighs.

Jungkook appears a few minutes later, he’s talking about something that he saw on his way over when he suddenly stops in his tracks. His eyes widen and jaw goes slack, standing there as he admires your lingerie clad form. “Jesus…” he whispers, bag falling from his hand, “When did you get this?”

You smile softly, “Today.. I wanted to surprise you,” you teasingly spread your legs, “do you like it daddy?” You say in an innocent tone, a coy smile on your lips.

He loosens his tie and eyes you up and down, “Like it? Baby I fucking love it.” He slams the door shut and locks it behind him as he stalks forward like a predator, “You’re so fucking sexy, sitting there like you did nothing wrong. You could make a grown ass man cry sweetheart,” he climbs over you, gently pushing you back on to the bed, “Aren’t I the luckiest fucking bastard.” He smirks.

You bite your lip and look up at him, “Aren’t you gonna show me how much you love it daddy?” You wrap an arm around his neck, “I got all dolled up for you.”

Jungkook groans at that, “All for me baby?” When you nod in response he leans down to leave a flutter of kisses up your chest and neck, “Fuck you’re driving me crazy, just the thought of any other motherfucker seeing you like this pisses me off.” He growls, “No one else can have you isn’t that right baby? Who does this pussy belong to?”

You eagerly bring him down for a kiss, “You daddy,” you softly whisper against his lips, “ ‘s why I’m pregnant, cause you bred me well.”

Jungkook moans at that, his hands stop to hover over your tummy as he gently presses down and rubs it slowly, “Fuck,” he whispers, “my pretty little mama,” A quiet mewl leaves your lips when he calls you that and he chuckles, “oh you like that don’t you?” When you nod, he decides to take pity on you, “I’m gonna give you what you need baby,”

And that he does..

Jungkook takes his sweet time, eating you like you’re his last meal on this earth. He has you begging and sobbing for more because of how overstimulating it is as he fucks his tongue in and out of you. Jungkook fingers you gently, stroking over your g-spot over and over again until you’re squirting all over him.

When he deems you wet enough (as if he didn’t fingerfuck you into oblivion) he fucks you. You babble against his lips about how you can take him, how you want him to fuck you harder and not hold back. Jungkook hesitates but when you begin to grind on him desperately he loses all sense of control he thought he had.

Jungkook fucks into you harder, hips slamming into yours over and over again. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass and the squelching of your pussy ring through both ears. You lie there helplessly taking it as moans and whimpers flow out. You can barely feel your thighs, your poor clit is trapped between you and him, rubbing up against his pelvis sorely.

“Fuck,” Jungkook pants from the effort, hips rolling quickly and roughly, nearly sending you up the bed and towards the headboard. “So fucking sloppy for me.” He grits his teeth.

His cock throbs weakly inside of you as he goes on and on about how sexy you look for him in the lingerie set, “So glad I was the one to put a baby in you,” he slurs out, “you’re gonna look so fucking beautiful full of our child. Everyone’s gonna know I bred you so well,” he leans down to mouth at your nipple, “you’re mine sweetheart.”

You cry out weakly when he begins aiming his thrusts to hit your g-spot with every thrust he lands on you. Your toes curl in pleasure and you weakly grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. “Jungkook..!” You sob out, “ ‘m yours..! Yours..!” You moan out, back arching off the bed.

You grit your teeth in pleasure and throw your head back, “S-So close,” you croak, “gonna cum..” Your vision is blurred by the tears of pleasure forming in your eyes.

Jungkook reaches down below you two to rub his skilled fingers against your clit, “Go on then, cum for me,” he growls out.

It only takes a couple more swipes for you to cum, a silent cry leaving you as your hands grip his shoulders tightly. Your pussy squirts around his cock, leaving you breathless and shaking from the pleasure. Jungkook seems surprised you squirt on him but it doesn’t deter him. He keeps pushing you, until you’re sobbing that it’s too much.

He lets out a long moan when he cums, pressing in as he holds you tight and makes sure you don’t move so as to not waste a single drop of his cum. It’s messy down below but he doesn’t have the energy to get up. Neither do you, in fact you end up lying there trying to catch your breath.

“Hey.” He softly whispers and turns to face you.

“Hi..” You croak out.

“I love you.” He smiles tiredly.

Your eyes well with tears and you smile back, “..I love you too.”

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

999 notes · View notes

stellisketches · 6 months

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Random MCD Headcanons that have nothing to do with anything (Part 5???)

Sorry I haven't made any real posts in forever. My drawing phone broke and college has been a bitch so i haven't really gotten the chance to make anything (though I finally made some more progress on the next chapter of my rewrite). In any case, please accept this next installment of head canons I wrote like 10 months ago and completely forgot about in lieu of anything that requires actual talent. Love y'all:

Laurance lost an incisor tooth in a fistfight when he was 19

When he got turned into a shadowknight it grew back, now he purposefully goes out of his way to loose teeth just cause he knows he can grow back an unlimited supply

Hayden has a cat named Bog Butter. He’s the color of butter and he found him in the bog.

Vylad’s favorite vegetable is avocado

There are three major guard academies in Ru’aun: one in O’Khasis, one in Scaleswind, and one in Bright Port.

Bright Port’s is the largest and most well known

O’Khasis’ is the most prestigious

Scaleswind’s academy is the most difficult

The bare minimum age to join is 14, though most people join between 16-19

Every guard must have a minimum of 2 years training to earn the actual title of Guard, however to serve in O’Khasis you need a minimum of 4 and for Scaleswind a minimum of 5.

Part of that training includes apprenticeship, so they do get some in-field experience with their mentors (think unpaid intern)

Technically you can train for up to 8 years, however most people only train for 2-5.

Garroth was in academy for 3-4 (although to be fair he had been trained in sword fighting since he was like 9)

Laurance went for 5 years and Dante went for 6 ½

Dante lied about his age when he enlisted though

He was barely thirteen

Both went to the Bright Port Academy however they were in different divisions at different times since Dante is younger, so they really only saw each other in passing and never actually talked to one another

The only personal interaction they ever had was one time at the academy Laurance was trying to get back to his dorm after a night of copious drinking and partying and could barely walk out the front door of the bar. Dante (who was pretty tipsy himself) ended up half-carrying back to Laurance’s dorm before going back to his own. Neither of them remember this.

Katelyn’s two older brothers’ names are Kaj and Khareem

Khareem is the oldest, then Kaj, then Katelyn, then Kacey

Occasionally, when he is absolutely, positively, 100% sure he is alone, Zane will sing to himself sometimes

Dante once did a Zane impression in front of everyone and Garroth got so freaked out by how realistic it sounded he made Dante swear he’d never do that voice around him again.

The worst argument Kenmur and Emmalyn ever had during their marriage was whether their system was heliocentric or geocentric (Kenmur argued the former and Emmalyn argued the latter)

In most colleges across Ru’Aun, there is usually some statue of Enki that students will leave offerings to before their big exams

Offerings vary, but it’s usually something like food, money, trinkets, or paper. It varies on how important the exam/how desperate the students are

Kenmur went to one of these colleges for a few years

One time he fell asleep the night before his final exam and he woke up like an hour before his exam was supposed to take place and in a fit of panic he dumped his entire wallet in front of the statue. He passed with flying colors.

One time at the Narhakan college someone left a life-sized horse statue made out of gold. No one has any idea where it came from or who left it. It’s become kind of an urban legend among all the colleges

Zenix never learned how to read and by god he isn’t about to wimp out now

Garroth tried to teach him once and it… did not go well

Let’s just say Garroth still owes Emmalyn a book from that incident. And a new table.

Zianna came from the same region that Esmund was native to

Katelyn absolutely despises the feeling of sand in her shoes

Dmitri and Nekoette raided the Bright Port guard academy kitchen the first night they got sworn in

Dmitri also had to go to the infirmary after getting shot in the arm by one of Nekoette’s loose arrows

Laurance can play the piano and used to play it at some of the taverns in Meteli

Levin and Malachi both know a good bit of Elvish thanks to spending so much time in Yggdrasil

They switch to Elvish for the majority of their arguments

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theglitterypages · 5 months

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JJK MEN PRESENTS: What kind of woman they'd fall in love with and how they would fall in love. Featuring Toji Fushiguro/Zenin

•Judging by Toji's history with women in the canon verse, I believe that Toji's type of woman is the woman that is like Megumi's Mother.

•Let's put it this way, Toji left his clan broken, misunderstood and he had no one to make him feel what love really is.

•After he left his clan, Toji was a sugar baby, that's for sure. Older women loved this man and even if Toji didn't really like that part of his life he had no choice but to use his body to survive.

•Toji was more used to handling older women, he knew how to please them and as he got older, a woman at the same age as him just doesn't seem like a good fit for him.

•Toji has given up about finding true love because of this, so he just kept on accepting clients to clients and survive, as long as he's not back to that shitty clan, he'll be fine.

•That was when Toji met an innocent, young lady who only sees the good in life. He has no idea why he was even interested about whatever you do in life. You moved in at the unit next to his, you just graduated from college and you have a decent job, but Toji thinks that you're too nice.

•He first saw you when you were talking to the old man who lives across your unit. Toji just received a call from his client, and as he locks his door, he couldn't help but listen in to your conversation with the old man.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You were busy talking to the old man across your unit, he was talking about how he loved the cookies you baked last time. You gave jars of cookies to your neighbors when you moved in and you appreciated that this old man loves it. "Thank you for the kind words, Choji-san! Don't worry, I'll make sure to save a jar for you once I baked another batch." You smiled. The old man smiled back and held your hands. "I'll look forward to it." he said as he caress your hands for quite some time, you weren't uncomfortable but you didn't want to pull away because you realized that he was a man who lives on his own he's probably missing his daughter or something.

Toji narrowed his eyes at the way that the old man was eye-fucking you while he was holding your hands. It's obvious that you have no idea what kind of a pervert this man was and Toji wanted to step in but your phone rang and you excused yourself to the old man politely and made your way to the parking lot.

Toji gave a firm look at the old man and the latter immediately entered his unit. Coincidentally, your car was parked next to Toji's, and even if he promised not to mind something that's not related to him, he couldn't help but want to give you a warning.

"Oi, Unit 27..." since he doesn't know your name, he just decided to call you by your unit's number.

You turned upon hearing a deep voice behind you, you recognized the man living next to your unit and you smiled. "Hey, good morning Unit 26." You giggled a bit.

Toji was taken aback by the warm smile and your sweet voice, it's no wonder that the old man can easily get away from being a perv with you, you look too innocent.

"You should choose who you befriend wisely." He said before he climbed up his car to go to his client's location.

It was obvious that you didn't get Toji's warning and he decided to take matters into his own hands for some reason.

He started matching his schedule with yours, sharing little moments of short chitchats and bumping into each other at the convenience store nearby. Whenever Toji is around, the old man won't make an attempt to talk to you and he made sure that he wouldn't have a chance to.

Toji wasn't sure when did he even start falling in love with you, all that he remembers and realizes is the fact that he seemed to forget anything bad whenever he's with you. You look at the brighter side of life, you're nice, you're sweet and you're too innocent for this cruel world.

Toji realized that he didn't want your innocence to be taken away from you, he wouldn't want to see that sweet smile of yours to fade, and he realized he wanted to be the one to protect that smile of yours.

His life was all about his own survival but this was the first time that he wanted to care for someone, he never knew how to because he never felt cared for before. But you showed him how, making sure he's not eating take outs, you wouldn't fail to check up on him from time to time to see what he was up to, your eyes sparks whenever he sees you.

Before he even knew it, you became the center of his life.

"Toji-san?" You waved your hands in front of Toji when you realized that he's been quiet for a long time. Toji snapped out of his thoughts and he realized how close you were.

You smiled when you finally got his attention, but blushed when you realized how close your faces are, you can see the scar on his lips up close, and for some reason, your body moved on its own.

Toji felt your warm hands touch his scar, he froze, but you gently traced the scar on his lip that he almost forgot how he got it in the first place. It was a living evidence of his family's cruelty, of how he was abused and treated like a trash.

But the look on your eyes makes him forget all of that, his hands found their way to your waist and he gently placed you onto his lap, your hands still busy tracing each of his facial features.

You softly gasped when he held you tighter and you blushed, stopping yourself from touching his face. "I'm sorry, Toji-san. I got carried away." You tried to stand up but Toji held you close.

"Drop the honorifics, doll." He breathed out.

"D-Doll?" You asked, not sure if you heard it correctly because all you could hear was the fast beat of your heart.

Toji smirked and nip your chin in between his fingers to tilt your head so he could see you better. "You look like a doll sitting on my lap right now. You're tiny and pretty." He said before pinching the tip of your nose.

You were scared, not because of Toji but because of your own feelings. You don't know if you're supposed to feel this safe in someone's arms, is it right to desire to caress his face and be this close to him every time you have the chance?

Whenever you're with Toji, he makes you feel safe, love, and cared for. You want nothing but to ease that tensed jaw of his, to bring sparks in his eyes, and if it's even possible take away everything that hurts him.

Toji could read the look in your eyes, you were silently begging and longing. He decided to be the one to take the risk and close the gap between the two of you.

The moment that he felt your lips against his, Toji could swear that this is what heaven feels like, he couldn't hold back his smile when you tried to keep up with him.

He made sure to kiss you gently and slowly, because he wouldn't want this to end anytime soon. Kissing you was not a job or something but his whole life depends on it.

When Toji pulled away from you, he let his forehead rest against yours.

"I love you, Doll."

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atxxzist · 5 months

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sweetest lies | c.s (02)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.3k

warning: not any i can think of

a/n: not much drama but lots of trips down memory lane

in all honesty, you can't remember when the line between respect and infatuation started to blur when it came to yunho.

you met him at the age of twelve, just as you were about to enter junior high. you had found him crying outside the choi's residence one afternoon, and was shocked by the news; both of his parents' passing and that he was now one of them, because the choi only had one son and he was nothing like the sweet and obedient boy in front of you.

despite him being younger, you had a lot of respect for him because he was smart and treated everyone he ever came across with only nothing but kindness.

yunho wasn't only well mannered and pleasing to the eyes, but he was hardworking--a trait that made him incredibly easy to like, although you did felt bad at times because you were afraid he was pushing himself to meet the expectations of those around him.

but he was never fazed by any of it--the hard work, or the efforts he had to go to. he simply did it because he wanted to.

by the time he finished high school, he had enough trophies, medals, and certificates to fill his entire room.

yunho💕: can we please talk

the sigh that leaves you is both the contrasting combination of irritation but also relieved, because you weren't sure what was gonna happen after last night.

if you were gonna have to be the one to go out of your way to settle things or whatever they are at this point.

you leave him on seen just long enough to be petty, until another text comes.

yunho💕: i'll come to your workplace after you get out?

y/n: 👍

yunho is there and waiting for you just like he said he would, the moment you catch the other's gaze, you think he must've swallowed down some tension. he usually isn't one who's ever nervous about anything.

it's a lot of awkward fidgeting and humming under breaths until you two agree on a bench just outside of the office, just about when the area's cleared of most of your coworkers.

it's like an air of dreaded silence, considering you've never got into a fight with yunho before, the moment feels never-ending.

"h-how are you feeling?" he asks, everything about his voice to the question surprising you.

a part of you wishes he had said something else, or at least for the delivery to come out meaner just so you'll have another reason to get over him and not think about the million others why you can't.

"how do you think i'm feeling?" you reply, a little snappy in nature that yunho almost wants to be surprise by the tone, but he knows better than anyone that that's just how you are.

you have a way of showing emotions, often times flip flopping between vulnerable and cynical, the latter of which he always believe to be a defense mechanism.

"sorry..." he mumbles, like the word falling out of defeat. "i should've told you sooner. i mean... i was going to."

you can't help the scoff that slips despite yunho doing his very best to make the conversation as tame as a situation like this can be. but you suppose you also hold some rights to complain and be a bitch about it.

"yeah, but you didn't. i had to walk in on you and my own sister myself."

yunho recoils from the sentence, your delivery poking at something he's not sure what is, but he knows he don't like it.

"i didn't know you were coming," is all he says, calm in his voice but also ominous to a degree.

you cross your arms, continuing to stare ahead. the entire time, the both of you haven't looked at the other once.

"i was able to get off early and texted you like a bunch of times."

"i don't always have the constant need to check my phone, so i'm sorry."

he's apologizing, but there's an impatient edge to his voice that if you just continue pushing it, he will burst; at least it feels like it, the undertone of his response not sitting well with you.

a moment of unpleasant silence passes before you speak again.

"so it's true what san told me? all this time, you've always had someone else? and you've never thought of telling me any of it?" that same hurt and betrayal multiplying by the second just bringing up the reminder.

you add on, "and of all people, that someone is my sister? just when exactly did it even fucking happened?"

yunho opens his mouth to say something only to retreat with a sigh instead, waiting for just long enough in order for the appropriate words to strike.

"it just kind of happened naturally, i guess."

naturally. it stings more than it should, the visual in your head of the progression day by day as your sister's smile or small quirks catches the interests of yunho to the point he falls for her, and she falls in return.

that he sees what everyone else sees, and it's the part you hate the most.

the attraction toward one another built on a foundation similar to gravity where one cannot help but to be pulled toward each other. unlike you and yunho. even if you were magnet, he most likely still wouldn't stick.

no matter how much you try pushing the thought away; know that you're being immature and unreasonable, bitter is a feeling you've always acted on.

consumed by the jealousy and rage that your sister once again, took something from you.

"oh... i see," you murmur, yunho could've missed it if he wasn't next to you, but he can hear very clearly how your voice drops after, following with a dry chuckle that makes him turn head.

"tell me, what is so special after her?" you hold his gaze, your head now tilted as the mean and mocking look in your eyes says everything. "what made you fall this hard when i was the one who was actually by your side?"

now you're starting to really push it, yunho doing his best to contain the brewing temper but you have such a way with words that knows how to hit exactly where it hurts.

"she's really that fucking good, huh? that you--"

"--stop talking about your sister like that!"

the outburst takes you by surprise, your body flinching at the sudden crank of volume, yunho sounding and looking the most angry you've ever seen since almost 11 years ago when a group of boys were picking on you.

"can you for once, leave your sister's name out of your mouth?"

his heaving chest and stern look on his face is something entirely new. you didn't even think yunho could ever be this pissed off about anything before.

it leaves you speechless, your mind scrambling for something to say in return just to make yourself feel a little better.

"this is exactly why i couldn't tell you," he says, now calming down but still serious as he runs a hand through the front of his hair. "i knew you wouldn't be able to face the truth."

“because he didn’t want to hurt you,” he unveils, much to your stunned reaction. “he knew you’d lash out and act exactly the way you did when you saw them back at the party.”

"and what would that be?" you push, really setting yourself up for all the hurt and pain that's about to come because yunho is absolutely right.

"that me and your sister love each other."

his words sink in like a bad ache, your brain still refusing to accept the pain receptors but it's all very real. the heavy and uncomfortable sensation running through your chest and the curling of your grip as they tighten.

you don't wish to hear any more of how perfect they are for each other, or more specifically, how more perfect she is for him than you.

"but i love you, too."

it's awful and cringe and makes you regret it the second it comes out, but you literally couldn't think of anything else.

"no..." yunho talks under his breath, shaking his head. "i'm not sure you've ever really loved me."

you draw back slightly, the puzzled expression on like he's accused you of a crime you didn't commit.

"i don't think you love me," he finishes off.

yunho didn't want to tell you (just yet) for numerous reasons. the fact you wouldn't be able to accept the truth is one thing, but he mainly held it back for this long because he didn't want to hurt you.

no matter how frustrating you can be at times, often than most acting on impulse and letting the unreasonable voice in your head get the better of you, he didn't want to be another someone who had let you down.

disappointed you and tossed you away; and for your sister of all people.

he grew up with you and watched as you go from a somewhat lively and carefree person to the one you are today.

how, you actually used to love and care for your younger sister, always by her side to protect her and fend off anyone who thought any less of her.

he's watched and sat through dinners and social events of family members comparing the two of you, able to vividly recall the both embarrassed and sad look on your face when they'd all praise her instead.

how much prettier, smarter, and better she is than you.

and he was definitely there when your parents sidelined you for your sister's accomplishments, over the years also a witness to the relationship that soon turned sour and leaving a huge wall between you guys.

he can't remember the last time you two even spoke to one another without all the lingering tension and bitterness up in the air.

so he more than anyone knows how much of a sore spot just talking about your sister is, the prolonging of the revelation one that is to protect you from the hurt he knew you'd undoubtedly experience.

but he's afraid that it's been going on too long; the need to tear the band aid right off and tell you everything for what it is.

"of course i love you, yunho." your soft tone rips him from the thought and to the desperation in your eyes.

"if you love me then you would be happy for me."

you've never been shy of letting such a thing be known, whether saying it outright or making implications of it. yunho always well aware to the fact that you've been silently hoping he'd take matters into his own hands one day and ask you the long awaited question or say those three words.

but truth be told, even if it wasn't your sister, it would've been someone else.

not because he don't think you are wonderful and worth loving in your own little ways, but because ever since he turned 18 and graduated high school, his cognition much more developed and refined, he was sure of a suspicion he had quite some time ago: that you don't actually love him. at least not for the right reasons.

"how can i be happy for you when it's her of all people? you know how she makes me feel!"

that all or most of it is just to one-up your sister, this twisted game having turned into obsession and masked under the pretense of love, succeeding in convincing yourself to believe it as well.

"i know that you've spent all your life being compared to her, and i understand... but don't you think it's time to grow up a little and start facing those issues?" his voice turns a serious, reprimanding tone without coming off too harsh.

"i'm not some trophy to be won over to prove who's better, and just because i like your sister doesn't make you any less. i'm sorry that the adults were so awful to you growing up, but it's time you start loving yourself. not look to someone else for validation just to feel better temporarily, but i want you to be happy..."

he pauses to catch his breath, an empathetic expression washing over before closing it off.

"i should've told you sooner, i'm sorry. i was a coward. but i don't want to carry any more baggages or be responsible for someone else's entire self esteem. let's free ourselves... from each other."

you stay quiet and yunho's not sure what to make of the lack of reactions, but although he's said everything he's always wanted to, the guilt blooming in his chest weighs heavy; it's always been too easy to sympathize with you.

another reason he's sure made you cling onto him as hard as you did, was because he was really the only person to accept you for who you are.

yunho never asked for anything, or for you to change.

if someone was to tell you that one day, you'd go out of your way to look for san, you would've laughed and told them to go fuck themself.

but you're standing in front of the door to his condo--somehow surprisingly able to recall the location just from the trip earlier today, and silently going over everything currently wrong with your life and how you have no one else to talk to about your problems but san.

the one person you swore up and down to that you wouldn't even give the time of day to if you and him were the last people on earth, but now seeming like the only option.

you place a few knocks but for all you know, he might not even be home. he could be back at his parents' place or fucking off somewhere else.

the door comes apart when you were least expecting it, san's figure standing before you with his black shirt, sweatpants, and hooded beanie.

his rather dull pair of eyes turning a wide one when he sees it's you. it's not everyday that you'd come waddling through the front of his doorstep. or at all.

"i thought christmas is still a month away," he remarks lightheartedly, the comment honestly slipping before he can even fully process the strangeness of the situation, or the fact you obviously look like you had been crying.

"can i come in?" you ask, the soft, vulnerability of the question takes san a step back because he most definitely expected a snide comment in return.

"yeah, sure..." he replies hesitantly, widening the door and moving aside but unable to help but be suspicious that at any given moment, you just might come clear it’s all just a cruel joke.

you stay still in position, gaze fixated on the interior that you saw this morning until you hear the shutting of the door and snaps around.

"missed the place already?" he lets another one slip, a smirk at the corner of his lips that prompts an eye roll from you.

but he might just be doing it because he's not sure what to make of a conversation if you're both not spewing hateful things to each other's faces, or that he just remembered what he said to you this morning and feels just the slightest awful about it.

the complete and utter silence from you makes the scene both uneasy and unsettling, he lingers in the awkwardness for a few more seconds before opening his mouth, only for you to beat him with words that's been dying to get out.

"i'm uhm... i'm sorry," you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can't believe it.

"pardon?"

"i'm sorry, about this morning."

because all it took for you to realize how pathetically nonexistent your social life is, or that you practically chased off anyone who has ever given the slightest fuck about you, is that other than yunho, you're not sure who else to confine in.

who can stand you and listen to your problems; and now that he's the cause of it, the lack of a support system you have is quite eye opening in a depressing sort of way.

"oh," he says, sounding similar to a whisper and eyes downcasting to the floor for a quick second. "it's fine, really. i didn't think too much of it."

not of what you said because you've definitely spewed worse things before, but he did think a lot about what he said and how carried away he got.

you might've called him a manwhore and told him to fuck off more times than he can count, and he'd retaliate with sensual remarks bordering offensive, but there seems to be some kind of unspoken ground rules between the two of you and he might've broken it.

he still grew up with you nonetheless and holds some weird, sentimental value over the fact.

you just nod, both of your body language so unusual and the atmosphere oddly pleasant.

he breaks the silence with a rather heartfelt apology, "i'm also sorry. that was a really mean thing to say."

"no." you shake your head to rebut. "you were right. i was just in denial."

your mind races back to the departure not even two hours ago, like you can almost hear yunho's voice through the flashback.

"you should probably start heading back. it's cold out here," yunho says, the swift glance at your attire makes him wonder how you're not shivering just yet.

"i can walk you to your car," he adds.

"i'll be fine."

your cold, cut-throat tone stops him dead in his track, yunho only able to stare as he tries to predict your next movement.

"you can go."

the words die in yunho's throat, a tiny protest on the horizon but he knows it's best if he leaves you alone for now. take the time to dwell in your own emotions as you try to process the changes, and eventually and hopefully, accept them.

he nods, clearing his throat the same time he stands up and takes one last look at you, giving into the last thing he wants to tell you.

"i hope you won't think of it as a loss, but instead, i want you to see it as an opportunity to find yourself."

"also, thank you for looking after me last night. if you didn't, i most definitely would've ended up on the news, or worse."

san's stoic expression soon morphs into a somewhat cocky smile at that, one eyebrow raising to complement it.

"this day cannot get any weirder. i mean, not that i'm complaining." he shrugs, and it makes you want to yell at him for ruining the moment.

"no, really. thanks to your stalkerish behavior, i was able to wake up in one piece," you snark playfully, half expecting him to be offended, but it has the opposite effect with his smile growing even bigger.

it's not the first time he so shamelessly takes pride in the fact.

most of your greetings or first words upon seeing him always within the line of "did you follow me?" given ever since your parents got acquainted with the neighbors next door and forced you kids to get along, choi san has had a knack for following you since the mere age of nine.

you still remember his much smaller figure back then trailing behind you and around the entire perimeter of the gated community, annoyingly pleading for you to play with him or else he's gonna wipe his boogers on you.

he was very much a kid of his words and had done exactly what he said he would when you told him to get lost, smudging your new shirt with what he'd call "shrek" because he was a disgusting nine year old boy who liked to name his boogers.

it was the first out of many that you made him cry, retaliating with a hard push to his shoulders that sent his frail body to the cement, and in turn, got you in trouble.

(if you try that now, you'll get it handed to you)

it was the start of your dislike for him that only seemed to grow the older you two got. because san went from being a defenseless little kid whose most threatening act was to tell your parents, to a middle schooler with wider, meaner vocabularies, and by the time he entered high school, you practically had no chance against him.

if he wanted to corner you in a room or put another of his snot on your new shirt, you were just gonna have to put up with it.

"how do you, by chance, always know where i'm at?" you ask genuinely, thinking back to all the instances he just so happened to be there.

"you're predictable," he simply says, making you raise an eyebrow in response, wondering if that's the case or if he just pays way too much attention to you, which, you never fully understood.

you both existed to piss off the other person, but san always knew more about you than the other way around.

"hmm," you dismiss it with a hum, followed by a pretentious act of checking the surrounding because you have a big favor to ask him, and your lips at the moment feels like they don't want to cooperate.

"san," you call even somewhat sweet-sounding, it might be the calmest you've ever said his name, watching as some kind of amusement takes over him and he reacts with a head tilt, hands shoved inside the pockets of his pants, replying with a cool, "yeah?"

"can i stay over? just for tonight?"

you almost expect him to crack a snarky comment, something in the fashion of how he's been waiting for this day where you practically get on your knees and beg for his help, but where you're predictable, san is quite the surprise.

he doesn't drop any smart comments or take the very tempting chance of rubbing your helplessness in your face.

he just nods and proceeds to state, "but you're gonna have to tell me why you're here."

you scoff.

"you literally already know why i'm here."

you think you're gonna go crazy if you have to retell (and relive) yours and yunho's 'relationship', and how disillusioned you were in all of its expectation.

"yes, but i'm gonna need to know how you managed to piss off so many people for you to show up here of all places."

you didn't have many friends growing up, san recalling you being tough as a nail and frightening most of the kids away, girls and boys.

most of the time, if you weren't busy sniffing yunho up who was right by your side, you were alone at a table ripping stickers from sticker sheets and decorating the journal he's seen you with since the first day he got moved to the same school.

he still doesn't know what's in it, but he knows you gave a kid a black eye once when they tried to steal it.

the only other people he's ever seen you with besides yunho, were hongjoong and seonghwa.

it was during his first ever college party, an invitation by a fellow classmate and now friend, mingi.

he might've had far too many drinks that night and a small makeout session that left his shirt wrinkled and neck stained with kiss marks that he just needed to find a restroom and get cleaned up; it being the first party and all.

that was how he winded up near the hallway of you and two males, one of them leaning on the wall with a drink in his hand, and the other debating with you as both of your voices fight to become the dominant one.

none of you guys noticed him as he quickly slipped into the found restroom, too entirely distracted by your own interests.

he assumed they were sophomores just like you, and he was right.

he wasn't as surprised that you were even capable of making new friends, but more so at the fact that yunho wasn't there.

probably the only instances he'd see you at a social or public event without yunho was when you were with them, sometimes even using either hongjoong or seonghwa to locate your whereabouts because you were whatever they were at.

his and your friend group even started banters on the occasion and just do stupid party shit together sometimes.

but by the time you were about to graduate and leave school, you stopped hanging out with them for some reason he never dared to ask.

it was a bummer for sure because san's never seen anyone just click with you as much as they did.

"it's complicated," you tell him when he finally brought up the question, seated across from you on the single sofa while you take occupancy of the big, modular one.

similar to how you've dealt with most of your problems, you don't like talking about it or reopening wounds of the past. but if you're gonna be using san as a getaway, you figure you owe him at least an answer.

something about his current state and attentiveness a telltale sign that you can trust him. though to be frank, you never felt threatened or endangered with san having so many knowledge of you in the palm of his hand. oddly.

you tell him of the last conversation you had with hongjoong before the both of you declared you two were better off without each other.

the conversation a heated one, but neither about stupid politics or gross food combinations.

one that ended nastily and with a lot of bad feelings that leaves enough grudge to fill an entire room, unable to bear the sight of the other for more than a minute at most.

"tonight. at chan's party. he said he can hook up some equipments and i can just bring my laptop. so it's like a reveal party or whatever," hongjoong informs over the phone.

"oh shit, tonight?" you repeat, pacing around your room to find something to wear.

"yeah."

"i uh... i can't," you break the news, catching yourself in the mirror and recoiling almost immediately because you know how much of a shit friend you're about to sound. "i promised yunho we'd catch a movie. i'm actually getting ready right now."

the silence from hongjoong's end makes you nervous, but it wouldn't be the first time you blew him and seonghwa off for yunho.

you realize that day, you have a limit, and it would only be fair that so does others.

"it's just a movie. can't you reschedule?"

the shift of tone going from cheerful and excited to impatient takes you by surprise, having to scramble quickly for what to say in response.

"i can't. yunho's gonna be busy for the rest of the week."

"okay? so am i. it's probably still gonna be in theaters for the next couple of weeks or so anyway."

"i already said i'm going and we're leaving in like 20 minutes," you say, the annoyance in your voice very clear to hongjoong.

"it's a fucking movie, y/n," he states, the more careful tone from before all gone, unable to believe you. "you're acting like it's not gonna be available online a month or two from now."

you fume through your nose, time running shorter as you spend it arguing with hongjoong over the phone.

"and it's a fucking song, hongjoong. show me on your laptop or send it some other time. beside, i already told you i'm not going to another college party for the rest of the year. they're always so filthy, filled with stupid people, and i always end up making bad decisions."

hongjoong scoffs from the other side and you don't miss how dry and sarcastic it sounds.

"i'm asking you to come listen to a song i've been working on for almost two years, not for you to come snort some fucking coke."

"well it's too late. you should've called earlier."

"maybe i should've, but i also thought you were gonna be better than this and not leave your friends for a guy who barely gives a shit about you."

granted, you both did say a lot of fucked up things that day that neither can take back, and you were, undoubtedly, furious at the time (and especially at that comment) and only thought of how to hurt him the same in return.

the guilt passed with time, but you wouldn't ever tell him that you knew you were in the wrong. everything all your fault because you always placed yunho above them despite knowing that deep down, the two cared for you and treated you like family.

they always looked out for you at all parties and never pressured you to do anything you didn't want to. all the stupid, bad decisions were by your own choice because you were too sad and depressed and didn't want to hear any more of your sister's acceptance to one of the big three universities, nor read another email from one of your professors about withdrawing the class before you'd most likely end up with an f.

but you're too prideful, selfish, and a bit ashamed, you won't ever admit it to hongjoong's face. especially not after all these years.

"that's it?" san exclaims after you finished.

"well, yes."

"if you know you were wrong, you should just apologize. nothing good about prolonging some bad blood. especially when it could be easily mended."

you admit the scene is a bit bizarre; san giving you advice and you sitting calmly as you try to digest his words that doesn't trigger a nerve, because for once, it actually sounds somewhat reasonable, though unrealistic (according to you).

but you suppose it's what this night is gonna be all about.

"it's not that easy," you counter, "a sudden apology all these years is... weird."

san chuckles, picking up the manner in which you curl your hands together in your lap as you said that.

it's hard to take your tough act seriously sometimes, because he can see the guilt or fear in your eyes and that you just want to give into it.

"yeah, and look at where that behavior got you," he says, not mean or intending to hurt. if anything, he actually takes sympathy on you "stuck talking to someone you don't even like."

you twitch an eye for a second at that.

"but i'm not having too bad of a time so far."

"hmm," he hums, quick to move the topic along. "i suppose you haven't eaten?"

"i had lunch... a couple hours ago."

well, it was more a snack that you had gotten from the vending machine because there was no time this morning.

"i could probably whip up something real quick."

you watch as he stands up and trails to the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets left and right before a smile quirks up on his lips.

"buldak or shin ramen?" he waves both of the packages as he awaits an answer.

"shin ramen. i don't feel like destroying my stomach tonight."

he nods it off with a light snicker, your lips puckering from the silence after and deciding to throw in a lighthearted tease.

"i thought you were gonna be making steaks or call for delivery."

he looks up from the pot he was washing and sends a smirk your way, completely unfazed.

"i'm a 23 year old guy, of course i don't know how to cook. but if you want to call for delivery, suit yourself."

"if you're gonna be living by yourself, it would be beneficial to learn how. but i'm good with just ramen for now," you reply, eyes moving away to wander the area before fixating on san again.

"you have any extra towels?" you ask.

"should be in the bathroom."

"okay. then i'm gonna head in for a quick shower while you do that."

you can see his nodding from where you're at, stopping as you have the bathroom door halfway open and looking over your shoulder to bother him with one last question.

"uh, do you have any extra shirt and shorts i can borrow? just for tonight. i'll return it by morning. i've just literally been wearing this thing for almost two days now," you refer to the red dress, not as satin or clean as it was yesterday.

your boss almost went into cardiac arrest when you showed up with it, considering the strict dress code, but he took pity of a story you made up and was honestly just relieved you even showed up at all—though you did get a written warning for the late arrival.

"i should. you can go to my room and pick them out for yourself."

you're a tad taken aback by the freewill but thanks him anyway before going into his room and taking the first black t-shirt and shorts you see because it feels wrong in every way even if it isn't.

you catch the sight of him humming a tune under his breath and rocking his head to it before you disappear off into the bathroom, releasing the giggle you've been holding.

"this is definitely overcooked," you pass the comment while examining the soft, mushy, yellow strands of noodles in front of you.

"i might've gotten distracted," san explains, sitting in the stool beside you on the kitchen island where he might've been for a while, it makes you think back to the soft call of your name after you finally got out of the shower and stuffed yourself into his clothings.

"i gotta give it to you. it takes a real lack of skill to mess up something as simple as ramen," you poke fun at him, the words more casually sounding than anything because you're used to putting him down, but still taking a sip of the broth nonetheless because he worked hard on it--more or less.

he smiles it off, and even while guzzling down the noodles, you don't miss the way his gaze lowers to your chest, and then legs, prompting you to cower just slightly because it's just you and san in a big, almost empty condo.

san's good at making you feel a lot of things, but nervous and flustered usually weren't the cases.

"you look good in it," he says casually, your heart bursting in relief because you have no idea what the hell you thought he was gonna say.

you look down at his shirt you're wearing before meeting his eyes again, mustering an unnatural sounding, "thanks."

you return to your food and let the thought die, but san's gaze burning the side of your face makes you snap back.

"what's wrong?" you ask, and you can see him tensing up from the question.

"so what after this?" he breaks it clear and direct, though filled with joy just sitting and talking to you, the air never this nice and pleasant before, he's also curious to an extent. about you and the steps you're gonna take.

you shrug, releasing the spoon and chopsticks in your hold before engaging in a silent stare-off with him.

"i haven't given it much thought. i was kind of busy burying my relationship with yunho, whatever that is."

he lets a quiet hum of acknowledgement coast by, figuring it's fair enough you would need time, only for you to start talking again.

"but there are things i've always wanted to do, too," you tell him a little shy, because it must sound crazy that you also have your own dreams and wants beside yunho's attention.

yunho was many sources of your happiness, but he also held you back in many ways. not he the person, but the ideals and expectaions you've built for him.

you've had a lot of chances and opportunities to better yourself, and you threw them all away for a fantasy in your head.

true friends, ambitions, some sort of true calling that you're not existing just to exist--you don't have any of those at the age of 24.

"yeah? and what are those things?" he asks, so much enthusiam, you want to believe he actually cares what you have to say.

"it's not that big of a dream or goal," you say with a chuckle, like he might find it ridiculous. "i just want to... travel."

you await his reaction, your heart wrapped in a foreign warmth when he just smiles.

"a dream is a dream. no matter how small or big," he comforts you, "but traveling is definitely not anything small. where do you want to go?"

"everywhere," you answer, "i want to go to many places... but preferably anywhere but here."

he cranks an eyebrow.

"you're not planning on running away, are you?" he questions, the delivery innocent enough but also slightly concerned because he thinks there's a chance that might be exactly what you plan to do.

"no," you reply, giggling only shortly.

"i hope you won't think of it as a loss, but instead, i want you to see it as an opportunity to find yourself."

you're still mad at yunho and hate how he chose your sister over you, but if anything, you hate how reasonable and logical he still managed to sound amid all of it.

that you pretty much placed everything else on the backburner just for the hope that his reciprocated love would fix the sorrow and unhappiness you experience on a daily basis.

"just brainstorming," you assure, "thinking about what i can do, now that i don't have to consider yunho and leaving him."

leaving him for your heart's desire, so afraid that you would let the chance slip right through the palm of your hand if you did. but now, there's nothing left to lose and you suppose it's a conflicted and warped up feeling of freedom.

san nods to it, snapping himself out of the trance and catching just how immersed he was to every word that you said.

"i should probably finish the noodles before it gets cold," you say, once you realize how long it's just been sitting there while you two talked.

you get two gulps out of it before you're pulled away by a question.

"why do you care so much about what others have to say about you and your sister?"

he's aware it's a bit blunt and inappropriate considering how well it's going, but he doesn't say it to be mean but because he wants to understand you.

he's been there and has seen as much as yunho have, watching you throw nasty glares your sister's way or growing irritated at the drop of her name.

he knows there's psychology behind how all of this works (that he's unfortunately lacking of knowledge about), but he wants to hear it from you. why you always put yourself down and chooses to live in your sister's shadow when you're as equally capable.

"you wouldn't understand," you mumble, refusing to look him straight in the eyes although he isn't shying away from it one bit, going to pick at the noodles with your utensils.

"if you tell me, i might."

the shift of atmosphere is heavy, the air no longer lighthearted but now serious as silence fills it briefly.

"is it because you're insecure from always being pitted against her?"

you still don't answer, instead taking a bite out of your bowl and hoping he'll just let it pass because you're aware in some ways that you're gonna sound unreasonable, childish, and petty.

just an older sister jealous of her younger one because she's better in every way.

but you've always been one to sit and brew in your own emotions and anger until they eventually turn into something much worse.

"if you want some help, you need to talk to me. i understand you might not want to, but i promise i won't run off with the information or use it against you. i'm much better than what you give me credits for."

you swallow and drop the utensils, facing him on and releasing a sigh.

"yes," you say, "i care so much about what others have to say about me and her because i already know they'll just talk down on me."

"and why would you assume that?" he asks.

you scoff, as if he's making you state the obvious.

"because i always fall behind on everything. even small things like socializing and making friends comes so much more naturally to her," you say, strong at first but tapering out eventually. "but it's not as easy for me... i-i find it hard talking to people or trying to make friends."

and even when you do, you seem to have a habit of driving them away.

san takes a deep breath and stares at you in pity.

"but you shouldn't be measuring your worth based on your sister's accomplishments or setting her as the standard. comparison sucks, i understand. and i know it's easier said than done, but you're great in your own ways. trust me."

you don't say anything back, not because you don't want to, but it's how your heart takes a dive and leaves you speechless hearing san tell you that.

a light pink blush makes an appearance on his cheeks but he's quick to move it along with a clear of his throat.

"what i meant to say is, i've been there before. you really think i was spared any of it when yunho of all people is my stepbrother and i'm the biological son?"

you suppose if she was your stepsister instead, it might be a lot worse.

but with san, he's always been nonchalant like nothing ever bothers him. it would be a lot easier for him to dismiss it.

"well if only i could be as carefree as you," you mumble.

"it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn't see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i'm proud of what he's achieved so far, and he's always had my back when needed."

when the night drags on and you're both getting too tired for overwhelming conversations, you go to bed in the spare bedroom after helping him clean up and let today's event sink in. so many things to process at once.

despite all of yours and san's history and indifferences, you can admit that there may be a thing or two you can learn from him.

so unusual seeing his irritating and cunning self turn so much more soft and empathetic, you're starting to feel bad for all the times you've cursed his name over simple mishaps.

thinking back to what he said earlier and being surprised he even had the kindness to do so.

"comparison sucks, i understand. and i know it's easier said than done, but you're great in your own ways. trust me."

that san would be able to make one of your worst days into something a lot less worse and even comforting.

then you think about yunho, wondering if he's right about the fact you never loved him, before drifting off.

when san wakes up in the morning, he almost forgot you had stayed over until he makes way into the kitchen and the yellow sticky note plastered on the front door takes his attention.

thanks for letting me stay the night :) you're kind of pleasant to be around when you don't think with your dick. btw i left your clothes in the laundry basket. see you around i guess - y/n

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