Can I get HC of Harry Warden showing his face to s/o for the first time but they think he looks handsome with some of the scars on his face
It takes a lot of trust and time for Harry to want to take his mask off around you
His mask is part of him. He canât breathe properly without it at this point, thatâs how much heâs used to its thin levels of air and naturally obscuring lenses. Being without it is as if he were ripping his face off and baring his muscles and skull to you. It was too much half the time
You never push him though and let him take his time with it and that all pays off when heâs sitting with you in the mine on a random evening, his glassy eyes trailed on you for a moment
He awkwardly reaches out and touches your palm to get your attention before whispering in that scratchy, saw-dust voice of his:Â âI... want to show you....â
Your brows knit in confusion but soon it becomes clear when his breaths grow shaky and his hand reaches for his maskâs clasps and components
You let him do it himself. Itâs his decision and his baring to you. He gets the control. Your fingers still itch and shake with curiosity as you watch him though
When he slides his mask off and reveals his face you hold your breath as not to gasp
His skin is chakly, as if a permanent layer of dirt had run itself againts his skin. The multiple scars and knicks from wounds in the mines and the fights he must have gotten in for his survival when he was trapped were an homage to his personality. His eyes... were so blue. More blue than you could have thought possible on a human as he swiftly averted them and refused to look back at you.
âHarry....â
You touch his face and he flinches, but allows it as you lift his head up to look at you, hands running along his cheeks. He still doesnât let his eyes gaze at you as you admire him.
They only snap on you, wide and shocked, when you whisper out, âYouâre the most handsome thing Iâve ever seen, Harry Warden...â
You can see his eyes gaze with confused blankness for a moment before his breath picks up and his hands are around your waist, digging sharp gloved nails into the edges of your hips and he seems to bite his lip as he tries to steady his breathing, the air of the world around him too much mixed with all of his suddenly
He finds comfort in the intensity of the world by kissing you, making you swallow his gasps and brief panic of agoraphobia and crushing you close to his shaking body. You accept and wrap your arms around him, reveling in your first real kiss with Harry since you met him.
When Harry pulls away he starts to say something. The edge of an âI...â begins his sentance but it fades away as his throat stucks into a word, frowning at the mere thought of it as his hair falls in his eyes.
I love you, he wants to say.
But he canât. He doesnât know how. Those are cursed, dangerous words. Words that put him into a frenzy as easy as Valentineâs Day himself. So he doesnât risk it.
He just holds you against him and uses you to help regulate his breathing.
You card your hands through your hair and nuzzle him, smiling into his skin as you do so.
âThank-you for trusting me, Harry.â
He doesnât answer with anything but a grumpy grumble and a kiss to your neck, making you laugh and squeak when it turned into a sharp bite to your skin.
Now you were truly his.Â
