#I’m frothing at the mouth and running at him on all fours

[jabesa0]

💫Pillow talk💫

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obm #obey me mammon #mammon obey me #obm mammon #mammon #obey me fanart #this mammmon….is so self indulgent… #I always associate mammon w/ cinnamoroll #so I had to give him the pj pants #he’s so babygirl #I’m frothing at the mouth and running at him on all fours #I needed to draw him like this #this was for mee #my double dollar Angel is so cute #I let him do whatever he wants idc

[wh0relibrarian]

pretty thing

full fic based on this

just a few headcanons while I start working on a longer piece (I’m back home for the holidays and the idea of Sukuna being from the deep south has me frothing at the mouth)

content ahead: southern sukuna au, black coded!reader, just slight innuendos, reader is in her early 20s and sukuna is in his 30s, not reallyyy canon at all!! so don’t expect accurate information on his past, also, not his true form. don’t hate me!

word count: 913

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Southern!Sukuna who was born and raised in the deep south by a loving, yet distant mother. His father was never in the picture, but it’s okay, because Sukuna quickly learned that it would be his job to take care of his mother and little brother. This was no problem for him.

Southern!Sukuna who has always been a hard worker. Eventually, he’d come to run his own construction company. He’d been working his way up the ladder since he was eighteen. Now in his thirties he believes he should start doing something other than work. Maybe linger around a bar or two, see what “Tinder” is all about.

Southern!Sukuna who goes away on a business trip, never being the one to fly, but it was necessary for an upcoming project he had up north. One thing about Sukuna, he’ll always rep his home state. He’ll always have a shirt with the (insert a southern state) flag on it, if not a matching hat, it’ll be one from Bass Pro Shops. His entire body is tattooed from neck to ankle. He’s been getting them for years and they make his complexion look like silk. He takes incredibly good care of his skin, he has to in his line of work.

Southern!Sukuna who sees you eyeing him from his peripheral vision. You tried to be subtle, looking away as soon as his eyes would meet yours, but he caught you each time. You just couldn’t help yourself, the man was beautiful. You couldn’t help think what on earth a fucking cowboy was doing on this side of the country. Sure, you were going back to your hometown for the winter but there’s no way his reasoning was the same. He was visibly older, and no man with family up north looks that redneck. You had to know more about him, but oh god, you’d never actually approach him. 

Southern!Sukuna who walks up behind you while you wait for your bag to drop from baggage claim, as was he. It startled you, mainly because you swore he was just waving at someone waiting for him outside, you thought he was gone already; so when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, you expect it to be your mother who was supposed to be waiting for you in the parking lot. When you turn around and see a 5 '8 man (short king, but taller than me) looking down at you with wide eyes you can’t help but jump back. He didn’t mean to startle you, he just wanted to know what a pretty thing like you was doing in his neck of the woods. 

“I ain’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he reaches out his right hand from his pocket to give you a handshake, you reciprocate of course, still in awe that he’s speaking to you. “Was just wonderin’ what a pretty thing like you was doin’ in my neck of the woods.” His southern drawl was thick, and smooth. The way his words reverberated off his tongue sent heat waves straight to your cunt. 

Southern!Sukuna asks for your number, just so he can check on his favorite city girl throughout the holiday. After a short conversation, he learned that you were really only here for family. No relationship, no notable friendships, simply spending the next four weeks in what seemed like an all expense paid nature getaway. He didn’t want you to be lonely, claiming that he’d check on you every now and then to see how you were doing, maybe take you out at some point if you were up to it. You still couldn’t believe the exchange, he invaded your personal space with the most intoxicating scent— some type of deep musk he clearly used to cover the underlying smell of cigarettes. 

Southern!Sukuna who thought about you for days. You were unlike anything he’d laid eyes on. The first thing that stuck out was your hair. Thick and curly, not falling below your ears, but in the most gorgeous afro he’d ever seen. The ends were pink and he couldn’t help but think you both were meant to be, since his entire head was a light pink shade. Your skin looked so smooth, you smelled like clean laundry and strawberries. Maybe some type of sugary substance too. He pondered on all of these things for days, just aching for you to text him how bored you were, how you wanted to spend some time with him.

Southern!Sukuna who damn near fell out when he got a notification on his phone.

[phone]

Hey :) it’s the girl you met at the airport. I just realized I never got your name? I never told you mine either, lol, I’m ____.

You anticipated his response, thinking for a second that maybe you said too much. Surely an older guy like him doesn’t want to text like this. But then—

[phone]

Hey, sweetheart. Such a pretty name. Sorry for not properly introducing myself before, I’m Sukuna.

#📕 my books #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk men #sukuna smut #black reader #x black fem reader #jjk sukuna #i love southern sukuna #like omg #him in a cowboy hat #sukuna x black reader

[sorrowsofsilence]

Faster II • Karlsson

Pairing: Jolly Karlsson x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+, unprotected PnV pls wrap it b4 u tap it), choking.

Prompt: you know what they say, guitarists finger faster.

PART ONE HERE

Author note: come here for a smooch my love @gretaswhore28 <3 This is just a small part 2 of the jolly oneshot ! (sorry its short I just wanted to get something out quickly today before work!) <3

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: (just keeping the same tags as on part 1 in case anyone else is interested <3) @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @th4t-em0-k1d  @lans-angels @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking

With hasty hands, Jolly unlocked the door to his townhouse, immediately attaching his lips to yours as his hands roamed across your torso again.

His inked fingers danced up your body towards your neck, gripping the skin as he held you, pinned against the wall within the entryway, rutting his hips against your own.

You moaned as his fingers squeezed, Jolly’s mouth breathing into your own, before a loud cough sounded from behind the two of you.

Jolly pulled away, whipping around to glare daggers at the man whose eyes smiled behind the coffee cup placed against his lips.

“Ahem,” Noah coughed, taking a sip before placing the cup down on the living room table, “It’s about goddamn time.”

Your face warmed as he watched with curious eyes before you rested your forehead on Jolly’s shoulder in embarrassment, laughing into his leather jacket.

“Leave,” Jolly muttered as he gripped your wrist, pulling you behind him as he led you up the stairs.

You smiled at Noah briefly and he flashed you a double thumbs up, before grabbing his keys.

“Yeah I’m on it, I don’t want to hear this,” He laughed, slipping on his shoes.

Jolly tugged you along, and as soon as the front door closed you were shoved into his room, his door slamming.

“Clothes off,” He mumbled against you, tugging at your skirt, as you lifted your shirt over your head, throwing it carelessly as your hands pulled against his face. You were left in your underwear.

“On the bed, ass up,” He pulled away, nodding toward the sheets. You obeyed, crawling all fours onto the fabric before bowing down, leaving your body shivering. Goosebumps ran across your skin in anticipation.

You watched as Jolly swiftly removed his jacket, tossing it to the floor in a form of desperation you’ve never seen. He was already showing against his jeans, the idea of pounding into you leaving him almost frothing from the mouth in desire.

Jolly needed you.

And finally, he got the chance to fuck you senselessly, exploring your body in all the ways he’s dreamed of.

His eyes bore into you as he watched you exposed on his bed in devotion to him, licking his lips in hunger. With his jeans still on Jolly approached you from behind, his hands worshiping your skin as they ran across your bare body, fingers hovering over your need.

He slapped the sensitive skin firmly and a gentle yelp left your throat as your stomach clenched in excitement.

“You’re so wet already,” Jolly chuckled lowly, his fingers gliding between your folds before he pushed them into you.

You relished in the feeling of his fingers, but your body craved his, needing to be full.

“Jolly,” You moaned, “Please just fuck me. I need you.”

You heard him groan at your words, your confession pushing him over the edge as he unbuckled his belt, freeing himself from the hem of his jeans. Jolly leaned over, spitting on your body before running himself along your anticipation.

Your breath quickened as you closed your eyes, absorbing his touch as he teased you, satisfied as he pushed against you, before pulling away.

“I want this to last forever,” Jolly shivered, “I have waited so fucking long that I want to remember everything.”

“Please Jolly,” You cried, pushing back into him as your knees ached.

He pushed your ass up with his free hand, the other positioning himself before sliding inside. Jolly immediately exhaled deeply, sighing in complete lust as he thrust into you slowly, both hands gripping your hips.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” It took everything in him to resist throwing his head back; he wanted to watch himself slide into you, your slick coating him completely.

You pushed into him, meeting his ruts as you craved him to go faster. Jolly’s pace picked up, fingers digging into the dip of your waist.

Jolly’s breath quickened as he began to fold over you, hands sliding down your back towards your head. He gripped your hair, pulling you up onto your arms as well, complete euphoria taking over as he watched the scene ahead of him.

"Faster," You pleaded.

Your lips fell open in ecstasy as inhumane sounds transpired from your tongue, the feeling of Jolly fucking you hastily leaving you speechless.

“On your back,” He commanded, and you flipped as he positioned you into missionary. You pulled your thighs to your chest, opening yourself fully towards him. Jolly’s fingers gripped your throat again, pushing you into the mattress as his hips pulled in and out, eyes dark with infatuation.

You closed your eyes but Jolly’s other hand gripped your chin, your gaze snapping open, “Eyes on me.”

Your brows furrowed as you obliged, succumbing to his need, and refusing to break eye contact.

Jolly fucked you in this position for a moment longer before flipping you back over, desperate to watch himself fuck you once again.

He leaned over your back, biting kisses along your skin, hips pounding you from behind.

You cried in pleasure as Jolly’s hands gripped both your wrists as he pulled them behind you, using his fingers as makeshift cuffs, refusing to let you go.

“Fuck,” You moaned, your orgasm climbing as your abdomen clenched in excitement.

“I need you to come around me,” He begged you, wanting anything you could offer.

The room was filled with a string of curses and erotic moans, the two of you completely indulging in one another. Your body could only handle a few more pumps of Jolly’s senseless fucking before you collapsed around him.

“Come inside me Jolly,” you pleaded as his hands pushed the side of your face into the mattress, his animalistic movements leaving you hungry and yearning.

“Fuck,” Jolly spoke through gritted teeth as you watched him absorbed in your body, his fingers gripping your wrists in a painful bind as his nails attacked your skin.

Within seconds Jolly’s body twitched within yours and you squeezed against him. Jolly’s head flew back in yearning, his body overcame with lust as he released into you, the guttural moan heaving from his chest causing your stomach to stir in admiration.

“Shit,” Jolly breathed quickly as he pulled out, satisfied as your mixed creation dripped from your desire, the smile on Jolly’s face prideful.

You sighed in contentment as you sat up, watching the man in front of you hover over your body as he attached his lips to your own, kissing you deeply.

Your lips moved entwined, completely fulfilled yet still hungry for one another.

“I just want to fuck you all day,” Jolly whined, pulling your body into his as you lay next to each other, engulfed by the moment.

“You can fuck me anytime you want,” you smiled, kissing him desperately again as his hands gripped your skin, ready to devour you again.

#bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #bad omens smut #jolly karlsson smut #joakim jolly karlsson #jolly Karlsson #joakim karlsson smut #smut

[bts-siwan]

www.jiwancutemoments.com

intro : hello losers i’m back after a year long hiatus 💀 i’ve been catching up on content recently and have been bombarded with so many jiwan moments that i finally decided it was time to make this compilation

intro : jiwan are literally my roman empire so without further ado let’s get into the video!

clip one : run bts ep.71 (behind)

“should i eat one?” *jm eyeing the pork belly + looking back at the other members who are busy with something else*

*heavy contemplation* “no i need to maintain my diet” *really wants to eat it tho*

*cue siwan entering to save the day* “everything okay?” *always the heavily concerned hyung as he takes a seat next to jm* *now cue jm pretending to be fine*

*mindreader sw knows what’s up* “you want to eat the pork belly?” *he can see the way jm’s mouth is frothing tbh* “why don’t you just eat it then?”

*jm shaking his head* “i have to maintain my diet” *sw literally spacing out for a moment before turning to the cameraman*

“i think camera-nim disagrees. isn’t this samgyeop-sal so delicious?” *picking up some with chopsticks* “camera-nim and i will keep it a secret. you can have one”

*proceeds to feed him like half the plate*

commentary : ladies get yourself a man who dotes on you like siwan does jimin because ain’t no way he’s looking at anyone else like he is this man

clip two : run bts ep.12

*literally in the midst of filming the police skit* *jm is being interrogated by officer sw*

“you don’t know what you’re in for? are you trying to play a joke on me?” *actor sw has been on a role so far but jm is ready to pull out the big guns*

*pushing down sw’s laptop screen to see him better* “ah, officer~ but is it really my fault? i don’t know why i’m here” *pouting + seduction charm*

*sw is big gulping rn* *they so caught it on camera + sw’s pursed lips trying to stay in character* “y-your charms don’t work on me” *avoiding eye contact to the max* “look into the camera with those eyes”

*jm giggling bc he can see he’s affecting sw but follows his instructions anyway* “like this?” *posing at the camera cutely + sw making the slightest eye contact and immediately melting from within*

*sw’s junior officer tae puts a hand on his shoulder* “should i take it from here? you seem like you need some rest, hyung-nim” *calling him out but trying to save him at the same time*

*sw leaves as jm blows him one last kiss + a flirty wave*

commentary : your honour he malfunctioned in 4K LMAO but honestly who can blame him 😭

clip three : jimin’s injury

commentary : so for context jimin needed a temporary arm sling due to sustaining an injury during practice. some of the members were eating in another room

*staff letting the few members present know about jimin’s injury* *cue sw’s face immediately changing from laidback to sitting upright*

“is he all right? is jimin okay?” *hobi also concerned as jm walks into the room* *sw struggling to conceal his emotions*

“can you not move it at all? does it hurt a lot?” *jm is explaining the situation but sw still feels anxious and worried*

“jimin-ah, come sit here” *sw already making space + standing up to help jm* *jm can’t help but smile bc sw always gets like this over minor issues* “you’re cute”

*moody sw who scolds jm for getting hurt but coddling him to death*

commentary : no because tell me why this man is so precious HE LOOKED LIKE HE WAS GONNA CRY OVER JIMIN’S INJURY. protect this man at all costs.

clip four : run bts ep.145

*jm tugging on sw’s sleeve for attention as he attempts to read a hint* *confused but curious hyung* “how do i look?” *asking for ops on his cute lil pink hanbok*

*sw blinks as jm does a twirl* *proceeds to grab a flower from the bush behind jm before offering it to him and leaving without another word lmao*

*startled jm at the camera* “i think he just helped me with my mission without realising”

commentary : so tsundere of him tbh 😍😍😍 ik jimin loves a little play of hard to get (also he looked so effing cute in his hanbok like the ring is ready, the dress is ready, the altar is there)

clip five : run bts ep.83 (behind)

*baby jm who seems to be having too much fun in the pool and doesn’t wanna get out* *swimming cutely rn*

“ah, get out already! we need to film” “this guy, seriously…” *older hyungs are complaining*

“look at this!” *jm continues to swim cutely like a puppy* *nj is so done even tho he finds it cute too*

“wanie, get him out” *literally the only man for the job* *sw decides to enter the pool to collect jm but jm sees it coming*

*quickly attempting to neutralise the threat by splashing water on sw* *sw wiping the water from his face before dipping beneath the water fully*

*jm is startled when sw comes up from underneath him* *jm is now sat upon sw’s shoulders in the pool*

“yah… he’s coming out in style!” “those shoulders are no joke…” “me next! me next!”

commentary : one thing both jimin and i have in common is our love for siwan’s strength because he did not need to do all that and yet here we are

commentary : not that i’m complaining 😏

clip six : run bts ep.75 (behind)

*jm is tired from a long day of shooting* *still not time to go home yet*

“we might have to film yoongi’s again. i wanna try it with a different angle” *lots of retakes bc bangtan are perfectionists* *jm is honestly half asleep in his pjs*

*director sw is not too bothered as he gives jin a thumbs up + easily guides jm to settle his head against sw’s shoulder*

*moments later and sw has requested for a blanket for jm too after quieting everyone else down* “i think we should stop it here for now” *totally not bc jm is asleep or anything*

commentary : they are honestly so kdrama boyfriends coded it’s not even funny y’all

clip seven : jimin’s cheeks

*jm gauging his face as the cameraman records him* *hands on cheeks* “are they red? can you see it?” *feeling shy rn*

*trying to get another look but quickly covers his cheeks again* “ah, is it really bad?” *cue jm going on a manhunt to ask another member’s opinion*

*ends up locating sw by the food table filling his plate* *walking up to him + tugging the bottom of his sweater*

*sw mid-snack as he turns to look at jm and sees the camera* *full cheeks laughing shyly before turning his attention back to jm after he’s done eating* “mm?”

“do my cheeks look red?” *asking with a pout* *sw instinctively lifts his hand to cup jm’s cheek + caresses it with the pad of his thumb* “a little. why, did you drink?”

*entranced jm cosying up to sw’s affection immediately lol* “i think it might’ve been the noodles. does it look bad?” “it’s cute. you always look cute.” *continues to caress jm’s cheek*

“YAH STOP FLIRTING!” *hobi in the bg*

commentary : WHAT WAS THE REASON?? WHAT WAS THE REASON??? hobi is all of us actually

clip eight : jimin’s cheeks pt.2 (because siwan is obsessed with them)

*in the midst of an interview* “siwan-ssi, what about you? we’ve heard you have a very close bond with jimin-ssi. can you tell us what you like about him?”

*shy sw hour as he smiles + avoids eye contact* *cheeky jm can’t wait to hear his answer* “hyung-nim loves all of me right~?” *biggest tease on the planet*

*other members are also enjoying this way too much* “they’re always together.” “yah, he’s blushing. look at him.”

*sw waving them off + trying to collect himself* “no, no. ah,” *looking over at jm for a moment* *finding it difficult to maintain eye contact but he’s smiling bashfully* “i think… i like his cheeks. they’re chubby and squishable so i like to play with them.”

*an innocent comment is quickly taken out of context* “WHAT?!” “siwan-ssi, you play with jimin’s cheeks?” *nj being dirty minded* *sw quick to defend himself and waving frantically* “no! no, i meant i like to- ah, forget it. you guys need to get yourselves checked.” *tsking*

*jm is honestly living for this tbh* *interviewer is clearly a big jiwan fan as he asks his next question after everyone has calmed down* “would you be able to give jimin-ssi a kiss on the cheek for fans?”

*cue a ‘disgruntled’ sw placing a kiss on jm’s cheek + jm’s hand instinctively reaching up to touch the area he was kissed with a giggly blush*

commentary : i would actually kill for fetus jiwan because just look at how pure they are here. siwan was so shy :(( i love them so much my lil beans

conclusion : guys i could seriously go on forever with the amount of jiwan content there is out there but i needed to end the video at some point <\3 i hope everyone enjoyed jiwan’s cute little moments as much as i did and i will see you guys in the next one, bye bye !!

TAGLIST

@pandorasword , @ateezsora , @anqelws , @kaitieskidmore97 , @vizianary

#( 🕸️ ) ───── siwan’s fan videos ! #bts 8th member #bts 8th male member #kpop added member #kpop added male member #kpop addition #kpop male addition #kpop additional member #kpop additional male member #bts additional member #bts additional male member #bts added member #bts added male member #kpop member au #kpop male member au #kpop oc #kpop male oc #bts oc #bts male oc #bts addition #bts male addition

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 3 Summary:

Falling back into old habits, you snoop through Joel's things only to find pieces of his past. After catching you with a certain photo, Joel leaves you in a panic.

Warnings: Angst/Comfort, Religious Trauma, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of drinking, Joel being mean and then soft, spiciness near the end, A/B/O Dynamics

A/N: Hey guys, I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far. Thank you so much for reading. As always, watch out for a bit of religious trauma if that is something that is a trigger. Minors DNI! Joel is also fighting a losing battle with himself, do we think he's going to be able to keep it in his pants for 6 months?

Chapter 3/20

Chapter 3: The Rebel & The Old Man

Sweat poured down Joel’s back as he ran as fast as his legs would take him. He had been here before, he had run through the halls of Saint Mary’s hospital time and time again only to find Ellie’s corpse. Sometimes it was even Sarah. Either way, he was always too late. The feeling of loss, insurmountable and piercing, burying itself in his chest was usually what woke him up, but this time was different. 

This time Joel had ripped open the door, breathless as he always was and filled with rage, only to find you. You, draped in a gown similar to the one Ellie had worn, except no open skull greeted him. They had put you out, and you laid on the cold table blissfully unaware of the firefly about to start picking at your brain. A fresh wave of panic hit Joel and made him stumble forward into the sterile room. 

An all too familiar voice pulled him from his despair, “What are you doing here?” 

Joel’s head snapped up, a low growl bubbled from the depths of his chest as he came face to face with the man that he wished he could kill twice. Perhaps sensing the bloodlust that had Joel practically frothing at mouth in front of him, the doctor turned away only to grab a scalpel from the surgical tray behind him. 

The man held the scalpel out in front of himself, his hands shaking as he tried desperately to ward Joel off. As if that could hinder the hulking beast that clawed at the confines of Joel’s chest, screaming at him to rip the shaking man apart for even thinking that he could harm you. Pathetic really, Joel thought. 

“I won’t let you take her. This is our future. Think of the liv-,” the blade that Joel had shoved through his throat cut the doctor off as he fell to the ground choking on his blood, eyes wheeling around the room as he retched and shook. Joel had heard the speech before, he didn’t need to hear it again with you in such a vulnerable position behind him. 

Joel heard the nurses screaming as he moved towards you and began to pull the wires off of your frame, cradling you to his chest and breathing in your warmth. 

“NO! YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!,” he heard one of them scream and it made him suppress the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips. An animal? You’re goddamn right I’m a fucking animal, Joel thought to himself as he pushed through the doors. 

As he sprinted through the hospital, trying to dodge the fireflies at every corner, he spoke to you over the bullets whizzing past his head, “It’s okay darling, I’ve gotcha. I’m gonna protect you, I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you omega.” 

Joel turned the corner, fireflies hot on his heels and swallowing the bile that soured his mouth, only to find an open elevator. For a moment, he felt relief as he moved towards his goal. But then, just as he thought he might actually make it this time, Joel felt his limbs suddenly grow heavy. 

“No, no, no, no…,” Joel cried out as his pace slowed, his voice breaking as tears began to blur his vision, his legs feeling as if they had been filled with cement. 

Joel turned towards his pursuers, suddenly feeling the sickening sting of deja vu as he began to plead for your life. He knew it wouldn’t matter to them, just as it didn’t matter twenty four years earlier when the soldier had killed Sarah. It didn’t stop Joel from crying out, desperately begging for them to spare you. They shot anyway. 

-

Gasping, Joel shot off the couch like a bat out of hell. He whipped his head around the room, disoriented and unsure where he was for a moment. His chest felt tight and as he stood in the living room getting his bearings, he worried for a moment that he was having a heart attack. No, Joel decided, assholes like him didn’t get off that easy. 

Finally catching his breath, the pounding in his head left little black dots in his vision as Joel was greeted with the aroma that crept down the hall from his bedroom. He swayed on his feet as it beckoned him closer. Groaning, Joel scrubbed the tears from his eyes as he lowered himself back down on the now sweat soaked couch. 

What the fuck was he going to do? What had he already done? He shouldn’t have talked to you like that, shouldn’t have let you stay, shouldn’t have pulled you into his lap and let you scent him, he shouldn’t have basked in the feeling of an omega rubbing themselves all over him as he willed himself not to pop his knot like he was a fucking teenager. What the fuck was he thinking? Gritting his teeth, Joel shoved the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as he tried to wade through the shame that filled his being. A shame that was almost like an old friend, one that Joel had grown accustomed to, comfortable even. This process was made incredibly difficult with the delicious smell that had him lifting his nose, a smell that reached into his aching chest to sink its hooks into his lungs and pull him to his feet. 

Fighting against his own nature every step of the way, Joel trudged towards the bedroom. He tried to reason with himself as he moved to open the door, trying desperately to remain in the comfort of his own torment. You were probably sleeping and plus, being the creepy old guy that watched young women sleep is not a good look he tried desperately to hammer into his brain. It was no use and Joel crept into the room as quietly as he could, mouth watering as he gulped down the warm air. 

And there you were, even breaths soothing the sting of loss that plagued him and replacing it with something new. Joel felt a deep sense of purpose slam into him, his movements not even registering as he saw you shiver atop of the blankets. Joel carefully lifted you from the soft mattress, your hand coming up to grasp two of his fingers in a loose fist. Pulling off the covers, Joel laid you back down, allowing you to keep holding him as he fussed with the pillow behind your head for a moment before he was satisfied. The need to provide sated, Joel moved towards the door feeling as though he might fall asleep before he even reached the couch. 

This plan was thwarted as the loose grasp on his fingers tightened, holding him hostage. Joel stood over you a moment, unsure of what to do. Yes, Joel could pull his fingers from your grasp easily, yet he hesitated. Looking down at you sleeping, Joel suddenly felt greedy. He needed to stay, to make sure you slept well, to make sure you didn’t need anything, and how dare he think of doing something that might disturb your sleep? Joel sighed, coming to the realization that fighting off the overwhelming urge to satiate your every need was like fighting with the wind. 

Letting his own instincts overwhelm him, Joel dropped to his knees along the bedside and covered your hand in his. Ignoring the ache that already bit at the muscles in his legs, Joel laid his chin on the mattress and watched you through tired eyes. The feeling that Joel felt as he looked at you in that moment was indescribable, like someone had found a way to pump ativan into the air he breathed. Feeling his heart rate slow and tense muscles finally ease, Joel drifted off at your bedside. 

- You -

A breeze woke you from a dreamless sleep, your hair tickling your nose as air bristled through the strands. You hummed, moving to stretch your arms over your head before you felt a warm weight covering one of your hands. Your eyes snapped open, gasping as you found a beautiful yet confusing sight. 

Joel slept at your bedside, leaned forward on his knees with his face almost meeting yours on the pillow. One hand covered your own, a layer of sweat forming between you, while he used the other for a pillow under his pink cheek. His breath puffed out from his lips, fanning out over your face and making you smile. He looked so peaceful like this, almost childlike with the lines on his face soothed by rest. 

You reached out a hand, tentatively smoothing down the curls that had flopped over his forehead and cupping his whiskered cheek. Joel made a small noise, nose twitching for a moment before he settled back into his slumber. You wondered if he knew how striking he was and you longed to wake him so that you could tell him, but you decided against it. 

Suddenly feeling how parched you were, you took him in once more, memorizing his beauty before you eased your hand out from under his. Joel’s fingers twitched momentarily, as if annoyed by your departure, and you waited until he settled before you crept off the bed and out of the room. 

Shivers shook your frame as you moved into the living room, the floors biting unforgivingly at your feet. It was so much warmer in the room with Joel, heat seemed to radiate from his large frame and cover you like a blanket. Ignoring the urge to go back into the cocoon of his company, you drifted into the kitchen and pilfered through the fridge before finding a water bottle. Tearing off the lid, you tilted your head and let the cold water slide down your throat. 

Thirst quenched, you decided to poke around some more. Curiosity killed the Christian, you remembered hearing Josiah say when you had questioned his teachings once. You laugh quietly, remembering how Rachel shot her mate a sharp look as she had sucked her teeth at that. Miriam had pulled you aside after that bible study, your arm smarting from the surprising strength the small woman had used to yank you into a corner. You remember Miriam telling you not to listen to him, that you came from a people that asked questions about everything. Before you could ask what she meant your mother had snatched you from Miriam’s grasp, sending an icy glare her way.

“Do not fill her head with your own beliefs,” your mother had spat, twisting your wrist in her grasp as you winced. 

Miriam opened and closed her mouth, softening her gaze as she looked between you and your mother before she spoke. 

“But her father…,” she sighed before continuing, “She has a right to know about her own people, he wouldn’t have wanted his daughter -” 

“Do not think to speak to me about what Abe wanted, you have no right,” your mother had replied, her voice now cold. 

You watched as Rachel moved towards her mate, smelling the anguish that was souring Miriam’s scent as she stood in front of your mother. Arm wrapping around her waist, she accessed the situation before asking if everything was okay. 

“Fine,” your mother had said, her voice dripping with sarcasm before she stepped towards Miriam threateningly. 

Lowering her voice she practically growled at the older omega, placing her body in front of you in a show of protectiveness you didn’t even know she was capable of. 

“I would like to remind you of the situation you are in, with your… history. Do you think he would forgive you if that got out? That he would just let it go?” 

Miriam’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in fear as your mother snarled at her. 

“Do you think that my daughter is protected because of me? That he would let it go if he knew?,” a bitter laugh left your mother’s thin lips before she continued on, “No. She would end up like the rest. So the next time you want to be valiant and teach MY pup something out of some misplaced loyalty to her father, I would like to remind you that Abe would have wanted her ALIVE.” 

After that incident your mother had locked you inside for nearly a month, not even allowing you out to go to bible study. Punishment, she had told Josiah, for being too nosy about sinful things. He hadn’t questioned it, seemingly thrilled at your mother’s show of righteousness. Annoyed, and confused as to what had passed between Miriam and your mother, you had swallowed your protests and scrubbed every inch of the house while mulling over what Josiah had said. 

You decided that you agreed with Miriam, even though you couldn’t grasp what she had meant by YOUR people. You would have to swallow your curiosity for the foreseeable future. You resigned yourself to silence, but not compliance. You would not ask Josiah where he put the books he had confiscated from Jake’s aunt, books that had her locked in the pit for two weeks, rather you would wait until he looked the other way before snatching them from the burn pile. Sliding two of them under your thick sweater, you had feigned a sudden burst of nausea so that you could run home and shove them underneath the floorboards in your room, where they would stay until Jake could collect them. 

Sneaking around had become a second nature to you, and you were comforted by the habit as you tiptoed throughout the cabin, softly opening drawers and sifting through the contents. There wasn’t much, a few fishing flies, a couple of comic books from a series called Savage Starlight shoved under the extra blankets in the linen closet, a few guitar picks here and there, nothing that out of place. That was until you reached the side table next to the couch. Kneeling down and easing the drawer open, you were greeted with pictures. 

The first was of a younger Joel, maybe mid twenties, smiling next to a younger man dressed sharply in a military uniform. The younger man is handsome, with his black curls slicked back and an easy smile on his face as he jokingly saluted the camera, but not quite as handsome as the man that stands at his side, sticking his thumb out in the younger man’s direction as if to say get a load of this guy. It dawned on you that the younger man is Joel’s brother, had to be, as your eyes bounced between the two faces frozen in the picture. You flipped the picture, reading the loopy cursive writing on the back. 

Tommy’s Basic Training graduation, look at my handsome boys! 

You smiled, placing the picture on the side table before grabbing the next one. The next one showed two young boys, the older one undoubtedly Joel as his puppy dog eyes stared back at you. You suppressed a giggle as you took in his cowboy costume, Joel’s thumbs hooked into his belt loops, and a fake scowl on his face like a true gunslinger. His brother, Tommy you remember, stood next to him dressed like a vampire as he sobbed at the camera. A man with Joel’s eyes and nose was crouched in between them with his arms around their shoulders, a vein popping out of his forehead from how hard he was laughing. Curious once more, you flipped the picture. 

After weeks of begging, Tommy decided he wanted to be a cowboy, maybe next year we should get two of whatever Joel wants - haha! 

You laughed at that, placing the picture atop the other one before digging out the last one. You stilled as your eyes scanned the glossy paper, the bitter feeling of guilt swirling in your gut. You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be going through Joel’s stuff when he has already done so much for you, you should put the pictures back and forget about them. But you don’t. You sit there and look at a younger Joel, smiling easily as his large hand covers the eyes of a curly haired young girl. One of her hands covers his, clearly trying and failing to pull his hand off as she laughed at his antics. You shakily flipped the photo, bile rising from your churning stomach as you read the back of the last photo. 

Joel and Sarah Miller - 2002 

Guilt filled you as you read the words over and over. It was his daughter, you knew that for sure as you saw the shape of his lips and his dimples mirrored onto the girl’s face. You felt like you had been punched, your heart shattering for Joel. He had lost his pup? A small whine left your lips as you turned the picture around. Poor Joel, poor alpha. 

“What the fuck are you doing?,” a gruff voice snapped, breaking you from your pity. 

You froze, a feeling of dread making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Sighing, you looked up at the dark figure standing in the doorway. Joel’s hair was a mess, curls matted against his face on one side and standing straight up on the other like he had been electrocuted. His cheeks lined from the sheets and eyes slightly watery, you watched as Joel went from groggy to alert in seconds as he took in the scene before him. 

So many emotions flickered on his face. Confusion, surprise, sadness, before finally landing on anger. Squaring his shoulders, Joel stomped over to you, snatching the pictures from you before he shoved them back into the drawer. Slamming it shut, Joel flared his nostrils as he looked down at you in a sullen silence. 

“I-I…Joel, I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff, I didn’t… I’m sorry,” you said, eyes pleading as you looked up at his face while his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

The glare Joel gave you felt like a knife through your heart. You couldn’t even stop the whimper you let out as he narrowed his eyes before letting out a venomous, “Don’t.” 

Joel turned from you then and picked up his jacket from the hook near the door, shoving his arms into the sleeves aggressively. Grumbling to himself, he worked on lacing up his boots as you trailed behind him anxiously. 

“Joel, I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t go, it’s not even light out yet. Just wait a few hours until sunrise. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sor-,” he cut you off with just a look and tears began to spill down your cheeks as he pushed past you, slamming the door on the way out. 

Silence hits you like a freight train, a bitter feeling of loneliness drawing a loud sob from you. Sinking down to your hands and knees as your cries echoed off the walls of the empty cabin, you felt like you had just lost a limb. You flopped forward onto the cold ground, curling up into a ball as hot tears ran down your cheeks, filling your open mouth as you wailed. 

- Joel - 

Betrayal. 

There’s no other words for what Joel felt in this moment. He felt betrayed by you. It wasn’t the fact that you had gone through his things, he almost expected that. You’d be stupid not to make sure he didn’t have a closet full of skin suits or something creepy like that. Joel had expected a certain level of snooping. It wasn’t that you had found his pictures either. He did feel slightly uncomfortable seeing you hold a picture of his dead daughter, feeling like he should have told you for a moment before shaking himself out of his reverie. He had to remind himself that didn’t know you like that, you weren’t his. 

None of that had bothered Joel, which was surprising to him. No, what had bothered him was the way that you had looked at him. Pity had drawn your features in tight, regarding Joel like he was a kicked puppy. It had shocked him, anger boiling his blood as he watched you looking at him like he was helpless. How dare you? He wasn’t helpless, he was perfectly fine, fuck you for making him feel that way. 

Joel walked through the twilight, the sun teasing the dark sky with its presence as he growled to himself. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to get away from you before he said something he would regret or worse, before he broke down in tears. He couldn’t do that, that would just serve as proof that what you thought about him was true. Helpless, he thought as he angrily kicked the rocks beneath his feet. 

Maybe Joel was overreacting, he knew that, but the look you had given him seemed to solidify what he already knew. That he was incapable of doing… literally anything he was supposed to do. You knew that Sarah had died now, proving that he was a bad alpha, a bad protector. Imagine how much worse it would be if you found out about Ellie. He groaned, imagining how his already bruised dignity would be squashed under your pitiful glance. Joel tore at his hair for a moment before continuing to weave through the trees, stopping as he came to the river. 

The roar of the river distracted him for a moment, watching as the water swelled over the banks, lifting the plants that resided there for a moment before rushing downstream. Joel took a breath, coming back to himself as his heart slowed. His eyes moved over to the spot he had found you, now covered with the swollen stream. It must have rained last night. Fuck, what would have happened if he hadn’t have found you? You would have froze to death. The thought made his heart leap into his throat. He cussed softly as a guilt twisted his intestines, he shouldn’t have been that hard on you. 

Pity or not, you were right. Joel was helpless, he was incapable. Why the fuck else would he be all the way out here? Yeah, you had gone through his things but he was the one that left the photos face up in the drawer for you to find. He hadn’t even put them somewhere more intimate, like a nightstand, he had left proof of his past in the living room. You could’ve stumbled upon it looking for a pencil or a bookmark. Swallowing his feelings of betrayal, Joel steeled himself before turning back towards the forest, deciding that he would check the traps before heading back to his om - to you. 

-

Joel stopped at the door, sighing to himself as he debated on turning back towards the treeline. No, he decided, he had to face this. You were going to be here a long time and if he wanted it to be bearable, he would have to bury the hatchet. Brushing off the dirt from his pants, Joel sucked his teeth for a moment before making his way inside. 

Stumbling back, Joel gagged as the smell of the room slapped him in the face. Your soothing aroma smelled burnt and rotten, the stagnant air making him panic as his eyes scanned the room. Where the fuck were you? 

“Darling?,” he called out, nothing but silence answering him as his voice bounced off the walls. 

Fear shot through him as he tore through the cabin, checking every room before practically ripping the bedroom door off of its hinges. Joel stomped into the room, his breaths coming out faster now with you seemingly gone. Fuck, you must’ve have run off, oh my fucking god no, no, no, no. It’s too cold, you don’t have any food, what if you get hurt? He was bad, he made you leave him, he needed to find you, he needed - 

Joel’s ears pricked up, catching a small whine that pulled him from the panic attack he was about to have. Running over to the closet door, he flung it open, looking down and being met with the sight of you curled up on a pile of clothes you must have pulled from his hamper. You were faced away from him, hugging yourself as shaky breaths made their way up your throat. 

“Oh sweet girl,” Joel said mournfully, feeling like an asshole as he reached out to turn you towards him. 

Another whine, stronger this time, left your lips as you shoved weakly at his grasp. Joel let out a low growl and your protests stopped, resigning yourself as he pulled you from the closet and walked you over to the bed. Groaning as his knees popped and cursing himself for falling asleep the way he had earlier, Joel positioned himself against the headboard with you in his lap. 

You were completely limp, the only sign of life being the shiver you let out as Joel began to rub circles into your back. Guilt sliced through his chest as he tried to pull you from this state, moving his other hand to your hair to scritch at your scalp as he had last night. He knew that he had fucked up. Why had he left you like that? Only Joel would be stupid enough to let you cry it out on your own, stupid alpha, bad alpha, fuck, fuck, fuck -, your voice pulled him from his self hatred. 

“I’m sorry alpha,” you whispered into his skin, a fresh wave of cries wracking your body.

Joel sighed, swallowing his pride before pulling your face from his shoulder. He took your chin in his hands, forcing your reddened eyes to meet his. He saw guilt, the same that he felt now, reflected on your wet face and it made him want to scream. 

“S’okay darling, it - I mean…,” he stopped for a moment before continuing, “I just wasn’t expecting it sweet girl, I overreacted. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

Confusion flashed in your eyes as you studied him, shaking your head at his words as they left his mouth. 

“No, it IS my fault. You let me in, gave me food, a place to sleep, and I went through your things. I’m sorry I just thought -,” you froze, pulling your face from his hands and sitting back. 

Joel reached forward to grab your chin, making you look at him once more. It frustrated him that you always seemed to find a way to avoid his gaze. 

“What baby? What did you think?,” Joel blurted out, ignoring the way the nickname made you look at him. 

“When I was with my group I-I… I used to snoop through my stepdad’s things to try and figure out what he was up to, or sometimes I would go through the stuff they took for review in the chapel. I know it was wrong, but I… I don’t know, they wouldn’t tell me anything about… well literally anything, and after they started keeping me apart from everyone -,” you stopped as Joel cut in. 

“Review? What do you mean by that?,” Joel said, his face now serious. 

You shrunk under his gaze and Joel made himself relax. He tried to keep the possessiveness that tensed his muscles and made him want to bare his teeth at whoever had hurt you. You watched Joel’s hand moved up your shirt, thumb starting to rub circles on your bare skin. He waited for you to push him away but instead he felt as you melted into him again. 

Sighing, you looked back up at him before starting over, “When a book or anything else was sinful er… when Josiah thought it was at least, he would take it for review. If it was found guilty of heresy, then whatever it was would be burned. But I um… well I know it’s not right, but I used to steal it back if I could or sometimes I would sneak out with Jake or I would steal food from the meal hall and bring it to whoever was in the pit.”

An uneasy feeling prickled along Joel’s spine, his instincts alerting him of his omega in danger. His omega? Fuck it, there are more important things to worry about right now, he thought as he winced at your words. 

Joel had experience with these types of groups, the religious types were always a bit more insidious than the others he had encountered. Desperate people taken under the wing of a twisted mind, using religion to keep themselves powerful. A brief memory flashed through his mind of David and of what he had almost done to Ellie. He went cold. 

“What did they… Did they ever put you in the pit?,” Joel asked carefully as he moved his free hand up to cup the back of your neck, digging his fingers into your sensitive skin and practically forcing your body to remain calm. 

You blinked and looked up at him with faraway eyes before you said, “Once. Only once. It only lasted a couple of weeks, or maybe it was months I don’t know… And then they were all dead and I was free.”

Joel had so many questions that he wanted to ask but he refrained. He recognized that faraway look that you were giving him, he had used that mask for years but he didn’t like the way it looked on you. Wracking his brain, Joel tried to think of a way to bring you back to him. 

“What was the best thing you ever stole?,” he blurted out, cringing at the question. 

Joel was surprised as he was met with nothing but laughter from you. Your body shook in his grasp as you threw your head back and a snort forced its way out of your nose. Joel joined, his laughter mixing with yours and warming the room. Wiping your eyes, you caught your breath and looked at him affectionately. 

“I uh,” you laughed again before starting over, “I stole a bottle of whiskey that had been confiscated. Then I snuck out with Jake, his boyfriend, and a few other teenagers that they knew. We demolished the bottle and then went skinny dipping, which… I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if they found out, but it was fun. We got away with it… I mean we sorta did. I definitely didn’t escape the headache, but no siestas at the pit for anyone.” 

Joel laughed at your story, soothed as the happy memory seemed to pull you back from the depths of whatever hell you had made for yourself in your mind. He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, relieved that it was from laughter rather than sadness. 

“S’that right? Didn’t know I had a rebel living with me, thought you were a good girl,” he tsked, playfulness dancing in his eyes. 

You gasped slightly, batting your eyelashes up at him before playing with the collar of his coat as you said, “I’m a lot of things alpha.” 

Joel gritted his teeth as a moan threatened to expose him. His cock gave a hard twitch in his pants, your scent suddenly overwhelming him as you mindlessly shifted in his lap. The hand he had on your bare hip moved to the small of your back. He felt the softness of your skin before pushing you forward without even thinking. Joel didn’t even register your gasp, your scent wiping his mind of any thought as his hardening dick now rubbed against you. He moved his face towards your neck, fighting the urge to bite down as he gave you a feverish kiss on your gland. Joel’s tongue darted out to taste you, eyes rolling into the back of his head at the taste as he felt you grind yourself needily against him. 

It was the high pitched moan that pulled Joel from his indulgence. He stopped in his tracks and you whined, trying to keep his face in the crook of your neck as he moved back. He looked back up at you. You looked fucked out already with your eyes hazy and cheeks hot with lust. Your breathing was as erratic as his as you tried desperately to rub yourself against his aching cock. Groaning, Joel stopped your movements. 

“Darling I - we can’t. I know you think you want this, but you don’t. You probably ain’t ever been in close confines with an alpha before, and we… this can’t happen. You don’t want an old man like me and I ain’t about to take advantage,” Joel said through gritted teeth, fighting desperately to remain focused with your chest heaving in front of his face. 

The whine you let out almost broke him, it clawed at every ounce of self control that he had but he held strong. 

“You wouldn’t be taking advant-,” you cried, trying to weasel out of his ironclad grip on your hips so you could rub your sweet pussy all over him. 

He cut you off before you could break him. 

“I would be taking advantage. PLEASE baby, we can’t. It ain’t you, okay? Pretty girl like you, it could never be you. S’all me, ya hear?,” Joel said, practically begging you to relent before he snapped and fucked you into the mattress. 

You stopped your motions, looking up at him curiously. You sighed, looking a little disappointed and very riled up, but you finally relented. 

Joel was surprised as you swung your legs off of him and scooched off the bed. You moved towards the bathroom, leaving him on the bed with a prominent bulge pressing against his zipper and his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You turned, an innocent smile gracing your soft features as you looked back at him. 

“Okay well, let me know when you change your mind,” you said simply, turning into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Joel sat there for a moment in silence, his dick painfully hard and leaking at this point as he tried to figure out whether or not that had actually just happened. He heard the sound of the shower being turned on and you easing the curtain back to step under the stream. A fantasy flashed through his mind of him barging into the bathroom, of him stepping into the shower and falling to his knees, of him burying his face into your tight cunt and devouring you, of him lifting you up and spearing you on his cock, of him drilling you into the shower wall until you screamed and tightened around him. Joel palmed his length, shaking his head as he looked at the bathroom door. 

“I am so fucked.” 

#alpha!joel miller #angst #comfort #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #omega reader #joel x reader #tlou fanfic #religious trauma #a/b/o dynamics #eventual smut

[woahjo]

I’m so normal about hunger games!au jjk. I promise I’m not screaming and crying and frothing at the mouth at the thought of Gojo being Yuuta’s mentor 🥺😭

GODDDDDDDDDDD i love being and feeling so normal about this au! i don't get weird about it at all!

THAT WOULD HURT ME SO BAD... i couldn't imagine a universe where yuuta volunteers though so let's go by movie logic for a moment... yuuta is reaped and gojo is MORTIFIED. gojo's a volunteer from his district, but district four isn't always careers. some years they have a few volunteers, but others, children get reaped and taken to the arena afraid and unprepared. yuuta happened to be unlucky that way.

and the fucked up thing is that capitol supporters in the district are happy for yuuta. there's a weird mix in district 4 of capitol support and distain. it's a semi-career district and loyalty for the capitol runs fairly deep. people celebrate when yuuta is reaped because... well.. gojo took him under his wing. what an honor to get to be mentee to gojo with such a connection!

the dread that fills satoru when he realizes that he may not be able to save yuuta, as capable as he is, and that even if yuuta wins he will endure the same that satoru has. it's dreadful and satoru does all he can to prepare yuuta for the arena.

the problem with yuuta is that he can be hesitant to kill people whom he deems as "good". being from a poorer area in the district, the games are torture rather than something to triumph. satoru worries how it will change him. what will it break in yuuta? or worse yet, will he do all he can to save him, only for him to die anyway?

and when yuuta comes out of the arena, something is changed. he's twisted. a little darker, with more proclivity to do what needs to be done rather than what should be. and satoru mourns a death that never happens, doing all he can to mend whatever damage has been done. but yuuta will take his place as mentor. he'll never be able to outrun it or his time in the games.

and i think satoru's attitude towards those who are younger than him who go into the arena is SO similar to canon jjk. satoru wants to bear the burden so they don't have to. it makes him angry that the young people are forced to endure what he has. it makes him vengeful. because at the end of the day, satoru was naive when he volunteered and knowing what he knows now, it's torture to send other eager (or not so eager) children into the arena. let alone yuuta, someone he's known since they were a child. because they're children.

GOD.

#cal care package #jjk hunger games!au #bro.... it #the WAYYYY i believe gojo's outlook would change after his games #when he realizes just what he'd done by volunteering #and having to watch other children go in #it's so adjacent to the way he feels about the higher ups in canon #IM GOING TO START SCREAMING #tw.violence

[brisquad-unit-4402]

noctyx 2.0 is real and every second you aren't running they're getting closer

but i had such a busY WEEK AND I DIDN'T GET TO MAKE A PREDICTION POST OR REACT OR SEE THEM LIVE AAAUUUUUUGGGGGGHHH

but a very lovely message inspired me to write down my thoughts anyways so here, i'll post what i expected/predicted first, then reactions to the actual outfits under the cut

dude i knew in my heart sonny was wearing a baseball cap with that smooth ass head but in my SOUL i was hoping for, get this, a biker helmet and matching motorcyclist-themed fit. that would be sooooo sick. with a leather jacket (toggle?) and ripped jeans and everything. oh, about how one shoulder is a little higher than the other? i thought he did that thing where you take the jacket entirely off, but sling it around your shoulder

uki mamaaaaa... i thought the little chain was a drop earring ngl. and that he had a hair bow for the ponytail, and one of those classy, flouncy blouses. ever since the first few weeks of noctyx where uki solidified himself as a graceful, elegant kind of guy i've been rooting for a classy fit and i really felt that energy with this silhouette, though to be honest, i did imagine the blouse to be really ruffled like a pirate shirt

i am proud to say i didn't buy fulgur's silhouette for a second. nah-uh dude you can't fool me, the ms paint guy. i recognize a round brush when i see one and i damn well recognized a round brush when i saw it. plus when i zoomed in and saw all those little gaps? nah dude. i'm also mad proud to say that i knew before he posted the real silhouette that it was to obscure longer hair, but it definitely wasn't a 404 fit. his hair would be longer and more unkempt if it was. but aside from that i had no clue what to expect lol

and speaking of zero clues, alban.. literally had no idea of what to think. no idea where to start, either, because his silhouette was so versatile. i remember thinking that following the theme where luxiem 2.0 is based on their pasts, then it would make sense if noctyx 2.0 followed a theme of their future endeavors/more detailed outfits based on their occupations, right? the only details i really gleaned were the straps on his shoulders, and honestly i thought it was a bulletproof vest, or some kinda techwear gear

actual outfit reactions under the cut

so a funny side story while the outfit relay was running, i was at a concert. it was a small lil' outdoor bar type venue full of sweaty bodies packed like sardines, thrashing around to trip hop and noise rap until 1 am and everyone's toes turned black from getting stepped on. there were like four different artists performing before the headliner i was looking forward to the most, and when sonny's relay was going on, the first band had just finished, this noisy distorted group playing along to a rapper shouting along, something a guillotine-by-death-grips enjoyer would froth at the mouth for. once they left the stage and i checked twitter to see the livetweets i was just thinking "this is what he [taichou] would've wanted"

anyways. it was hilarious because the second i clocked sonny's new hair i called him a wet ass dog. it's true. he looks like he crawled out of a dunk tank AAAAAHAHAHAHA it's growing on me, though. the links on his cap are adorble, i love that and the negi. and the water bottle! omizu, those little references with the acessories were easily my favorite part! the fit is really simple so those little details really made it shine, including the quilted texture on the shoes, and the shadow over his eyes when he wears the hat… you know… it’s a good outfit… but it’s just… i can’t help but feel

(also obligatory disclaimer that i’ve only found the time to watch sonny’s stream entirely, and i’m 7 min into uki’s, so let me know if i missed some context. i’m a clips champion at heart.)

i knew uki would be beautiful but i loooove how effortlessly beautiful he is in this one. it's giving me vibes like you impulsively decided to turn up at his door and then spent the rest of the day just comfortably hanging out all chill and calm. his slippers are so adorbs i know how he integrated the stargazers into the fit just like that, and his hair is so pretty when it’s long! he really is uki mama now! and the color is lighter, so i have two headcanons: either it’s dyed and slowly fading out… or he’s so old he’s graying LMAOOOOOO

fuuchan turning up to the outfit reveal no tease no prelude just apple is easily the most on-brand fuuchan thing i’ve seen. happy father’s day to fuuchan and his pink shirt, i SWEAR every dad worth his salt has a pink shirt in that same exact color. megane fuu is so important! i’m so glad this is a thing now it suits his fit and his personality so well! love the legatus motif on the shoes and the buckle too

i guess i’m not really allowed to say i was pleasantly surprised by alban since i didn’t have any expectations. but i was pleasantly surprised! he’s so darling! and all his toggles go so hard! he’s very boy next door, i love the little ripped jean details especially on his jeans! and it’s very versatile, especially when you consider his 1.0 too. he’s so cute. i’m so glad we embraced the konbini thing it’s so important

#noctyx #alban knox #fulgur ovid #sonny brisko #uki violeta #unit 4402 reporting #4402 brainrot

[lemmetreatya]

hi! i'm nadia and i wanted to sign up for the got dat love in em event:

ryoumen sukuna, vanilla and marzipan!

💖 VAL’S VALENTINE EVENT 💖

TA-DA! Your Vanilla flavoured Sukuna with Marzipan icing is READY!

He was stunned - the stranger in front of him looked exactly like the girl he'd been dreaming about.

Same physique, same hair, same fucking cursed energy.

It was uncanny, in a very familiar sense, because even though he was looking at her through Yuji’s eyes, he still knew this was someone he personally saw before.

“I’m taking over.”

Poor boy, Itadori barely had a chance to acknowledge what the brutish mouth that had just opened up on his cheek said to him, before he felt himself be ever consumed by the dooming feeling of the King of Curses himself.

Sukuna knows he only had several minutes, maybe less, before he was surrounded by frothing jujitsu sorcerers and their audacious cursed tools. He’d better make this quick.

In an animalistic sprint, Sukuna dashes across the streets of Sapporo. He was so desperate, at one stage, he began barging through the square on all fours. People scream in shock and jump out of his way, so he hasn’t any need to slaughter his way through, but once he reaches where you stood by the food stall, he’s towering over you almost twice your height.

“You.” He venomously spits.

Those behind the stall and surrounding area, run away in fear, but you stand there in your place. Maybe it was shock, or an immense amount of guts, but either way you breathe out a confused reply.

“Huh?!”

Angered by your ignorance, Sukuna growls. He doesn’t like to lose control of himself, or his emotions, by that fact— but your lack of urgency enrages him.

Swiping a dangerous hand to the stall behind you, a vicious wind is expelled as Sukuna takes a step closer. The food, pans and woodware of the food stall was sent flying.

“It was fucking you. It was you who disturbed my sleep the first time. I know what you do, your ways… your… your inflictions. They don’t fucking work on me. I’ll kill you before it even stands a chance.”

Shaking your head, your eyes dart round to look around for any help.

“I…I don’t know… what you’re…talking about.”

Not accepting your answer, Sukuna’s hand brashly lunges out in front of him as he takes a hold of your throat. With a struggled grasp, you try and fend him away but he’s just too strong.

Lifting you above his eyeline, Sukuna’s teeth bare viciously. Now that you look at him, there’s no way he was human.

“You will. I promise you, once I’m done with you, you will know what I’m talking about.” He seethes.

#val’s valentine event #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader

[the-birth-of-art]

On the occasion of Pat Robertson's death....

"To a Contemporary Bunkshooter" (aka "To Billy Sunday")

by Carl Sandburg, 1915

YOU come along … tearing your shirt … yelling about Jesus.    

Where do you get that stuff?    

What do you know about Jesus?

Jesus had a way of talking soft and outside of a few bankers and higher-ups among the con men of Jerusalem everybody liked to have this Jesus around because he never made any fake passes and everything he said went and he helped the sick and gave the people hope.  

You come along squirting words at us, shaking your fist and calling us all dam fools so fierce the froth slobbers over your lips… always blabbing we’re all going to hell straight off and you know all about it. 

I’ve read Jesus’ words. I know what he said. You don’t throw any scare into me. I’ve got your number. I know how much you know about Jesus.

He never came near clean people or dirty people but they felt cleaner because he came along. It was your crowd of bankers and business men and lawyers hired the sluggers and murderers who put Jesus out of the running.  

I say the same bunch backing you nailed the nails into the hands of this Jesus of Nazareth. He had lined up against him the same crooks and strong-arm men now lined up with you paying your way.  

This Jesus was good to look at, smelled good, listened good. He threw out something fresh and beautiful from the skin of his body and the touch of his hands wherever he passed along.

You slimy bunkshooter, you put a smut on every human blossom in reach of your rotten breath belching about hell-fire and hiccupping about this Man who lived a clean life in Galilee. 

When are you going to quit making the carpenters build emergency hospitals for women and girls driven crazy with wrecked nerves from your gibberish about Jesus—I put it to you again: Where do you get that stuff; what do you know about Jesus?  

Go ahead and bust all the chairs you want to. Smash a whole wagon load of furniture at every performance. Turn sixty somersaults and stand on your nutty head. If it wasn’t for the way you scare the women and kids I’d feel sorry for you and pass the hat.

I like to watch a good four-flusher work, but not when he starts people puking and calling for the doctors.

I like a man that’s got nerve and can pull off a great original performance, but you—you’re only a bug-house peddler of second-hand gospel—you’re only shoving out a phoney imitation of the goods this Jesus wanted free as air and sunlight.  

You tell people living in shanties Jesus is going to fix it up all right with them by giving them mansions in the skies after they’re dead and the worms have eaten ’em. 

You tell $6 a week department store girls all they need is Jesus; you take a steel trust wop, dead without having lived, gray and shrunken at forty years of age, and you tell him to look at Jesus on the cross and he’ll be all right.

You tell poor people they don’t need any more money on pay day and even if it’s fierce to be out of a job, Jesus’ll fix that up all right, all right—all they gotta do is take Jesus the way you say.

I’m telling you Jesus wouldn’t stand for the stuff you’re handing out. Jesus played it different. The bankers and lawyers of Jerusalem got their sluggers and murderers to go after Jesus just because Jesus wouldn’t play their game. He didn’t sit in with the big thieves.  

I don’t want a lot of gab from a bunkshooter in my religion.

I won’t take my religion from any man who never works except with his mouth and never cherishes any memory except the face of the woman on the American silver dollar.

I ask you to come through and show me where you’re pouring out the blood of your life.  

I’ve been to this suburb of Jerusalem they call Golgotha, where they nailed Him, and I know if the story is straight it was real blood ran from His hands and the nail-holes, and it was real blood spurted in red drops where the spear of the Roman soldier rammed in between the ribs of this Jesus of Nazareth.

#carl sandburg #to a contemporary bunkshooter #pat robertson #billy sunday

[ahb-writes]

Book Review: ‘I’m the Evil Lord of an Intergalactic Empire’ #3

I’m the Evil Lord of an Intergalactic Empire! (Light Novel) Vol. 3 by Yomu Mishima My rating: 5 of 5 stars Compelling in its thoroughness and entertaining in its simplicity, this novel series' cavalier invocation of randomness and gullibility for the sake of Liam's evil lordship fits together quite nicely. I'M THE EVIL LORD OF AN INTERGALACTIC EMPIRE v3 wields another academic sprint as its general backdrop, but during the next span of three or four years, Liam accidentally creates another mortal enemy, stumbles into romance with an ice queen, and sort of sets the stage for rerouting the power balance within the empire itself. EVIL LORD v3 routinely triggers these and other narrative events by way of happenstance. Liam is an overachiever. He's bored. He wants to hunt stronger pirates, he wants to engage a woman who adamantly refuses his advances (on moral grounds), and he wants to amass a fortune and military worthy of crushing all other nobles. Does he get what he wants? Maybe. But definitely not in the way he thinks. This book's charm rests in how superbly the author weaves the story's secondary and tertiary characters into motion to nudge and support Liam's fantastical view of the universe. House Claudia, for example, has been in ruin for close to 2,000 years (due in part to the empire's negligence and due in part to other noble's malfeasance). But Liam doesn't see a house in disrepair, he spies a dukedom without a leading man. Similarly, Liam's tendency to attract women of an exceedingly violent and overconfident caliber should be a problem. Except, these women are military specialists, infamous mercenaries, or noble adjutants. Every single one of them is willing to die for him, if for all of the wrong reasons. Not the he'd know the difference. It's all a matter of perception. And as readers of EVIL LORD v3 will come to find, the puzzle pieces clarifying which nobles support pirates and which puzzle pieces show corruption in the higher ranks of the capital all require a bit of sorting to make out the final picture. And as readers already know, Liam always finds his way to the final picture. Characterization is one of this novel series' highest qualities. In EVIL LORD v3, readers encounter a lazy imperial prince, a mage assassin with a grudge, a female knight with a mean streak, and a duchess-to-be. The lattermost, Rosetta Sereh Claudia, is an incredibly sympathetic character who loses almost everything, yet keeps pushing through. She's icy, sure, but only so as to better focus on what matters to her (and her declining house authority). Rosetta is reserved, tactful, and chooses her allies carefully. Liam falls for her because he wants an ice queen for a wife, but as everyone knows, for better or for worse, all ice queens thaw. Her character is less lovable at the end than she is closer to when she is introduced, but Rosetta's internal struggle is genuine. Another notable character is Marie Sera Marian, a female knight who awakens when Liam's scientists pull her and others out of stone. Marie is a bloodthirsty fighter. She's also loyal to a fault. Better to have her on the side of an evil lord than to leave her running about without a leash. Marie's demure façade hides a bevvy of hilarious curses and spit-takes that typically pour from her frothing mouth the second someone gets the better of her. One would think it's a tired trope, but somehow it works perfectly here. The fact that she wields dual chainsaw-lightsabers might also have something to do with it. In EVIL LORD v3, the cast is impressive, both in size and scope of integration. And its this cast of awkward, bitter, slyly vengeful, and outright humbling personalities that nudge everything into its proper direction. Liam isn't the only one making weird assumptions. For example, Serena, the spy maid for the prime minister, scrutinizes the young man everyday but sees nothing untoward in his actions. And so, when Liam skulks the battlefield piloting an upgraded Avid mobile suit and wipes out hundreds of pirates, readers may correctly assume the guy may is a bit ridiculous, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know what he's doing.

Light-Novel Reviews || ahb writes on Good Reads

Browse insta for more comics and book reviews.

#light novel #review #evil lord #intergalactic empire #yomu mishima #nadare takamine #amy osteraas #seven seas entertainment #ore wa seikan kokka no akutoku ryoushu #5 of 5 stars #liam sera banfield #scifi novel #scifi fiction #accidentally creates another mortal enemy #crushing all other nobles #fantastical view of the universe #rosetta sereh claudia #marie sera marian #female knight #strong characterization #hilarious curses #spy maid

[mytrogblog]

47. #ACaperPart3

Sinsational! Though it was really too difficult to detect who the couple was from our vantage point, we had to endure their very mushy farewell. Get a room! Oh wait, they just had one. Finally, the woman pushed her lover away, as if urging him to get a move on. He hastened. Time for the husband to return, I guess. Well, at least we’d be heading back. I was hungry.

The man started to run or rather trot with a little skip between trots. Hmmmm… that was a familiar trot. I put my nose up to the window for a closer look. And followed the trotting cheater as Pippy snapped away. Could it be? What are the odds!?! I shook my head and looked again. Yes, it was. I was sure. What the unbelievable f**k?

Hugh. Hugh was the trotter. “That’s my old boyfriend,” I blurted, breaking the silence in the car. Something took over me. Any suppressed wrath I had for him came bubbling up and squirting out. I was fuming. “Quite a gait he’s got there,” observed Doho. “I’m going after him,” I screamed. Good thing the Pipmobile was soundproof or the whole neighborhood would be out eyeballing the diddler.

I pulled the handle up to get out, but it wouldn’t budge. Pippy had locked us in. “Whoa back, Mustang,’ he commanded, ‘We’re spying here, remember.” Oh, yeah, I thought, wiping the froth from my mouth. This wasn’t like me. Probably a combination of the hunger, the Hugh residue and that spring still chaperoning my tush.

I had calmed down. Started to breathe normally. “The universe has funny ways of making its case,” Doho aptly assessed to the crowd of four. Thank you, Deepak. But he was right. Doho knew all about Hugh. I had told him the whole story after Hugh’s balcony visit. And this certainly put a nail in the relationship coffin with the crowing cock. No need for further discussion.

But Lana, being an astute surveyor of the pulchritudinous male and now checking out the photos from Pippy’s camera, piped in, “I can see why you’d want to hang on, sure is sexy.” This, for some reason, did not make me feel better. But I agreed, he was criminally sexy. Because he couldn’t see me through the tinted windows, I took the opportunity to wave as we passed. My last goodbye.

Well, Pippy had gotten what he came after. Evidence for the husband and another paycheck. And I had gotten rock-solid evidence with witnesses this time as to what an insatiable rotten tart Hugh was. Amen.

#humor story comedy fun roommates mytrogblog

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Begone, Bitch

Prompts: Hi ! I just wanted to say that i love your stories and the way you write the characters ! If you want, could you write about Virgil being comforted by the other sides, or him getting hurt while protecting the others ? - anon

I am beyond grateful for every fic you write, you are so good at pushing all the right emotional buttons to just make my entire day. I don't want to be greedy since you already make so much good content, but in 'Lie to Me' there was that little one off scene in the kitchen where Virgil pushes Janus behind him to 'protect ' him from Roman and I *cannot* stop thinking about it. I would die for a whole fic of Virgil protecting Janus(and the others, but mostly Janus, I like when people are sweet to the snake boy) from danger by physically shielding him with his body. Overprotective Virgil is my favorite. So this is a prompt/request but only if you really really want to <3 And thank you for writing such wonderful fic. - awitchbravestheverge

Ah yes more opportunities to write in Virgil's narration style.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none, not really. Some creepy shadow shit from the Subconcious and Virgil gets a little hurt but nothing graphic

Pairings: platonic found family babey

Word Count: 4504

The Subconscious is a nasty piece of work. It’s not quite powerful enough to overtake the Mindscape by itself, Roman and Remus do too good of a job holding the barriers in the Imagination, but that doesn’t mean little shits don’t worm their way through every now and then. Guess who gets the fantastic job of being alert to each and every single one of them?

No fucking prizes for guessing who.

The Subconscious is a nasty piece of work. It’s not quite powerful enough to overtake the Mindscape by itself, Roman and Remus do too good of a job holding the barriers in the Imagination, but that doesn’t mean little shits don’t worm their way through every now and then. Guess who gets the fantastic job of being alert to each and every single one of them?

No fucking prizes for guessing who.

For the most part, Virgil’s able to work undetected. Or, well, no, the others will see him doing shit but they don’t know that’s what he’s doing. He just has to stand between them and whatever gross slimy black thing has crawled its way up from the depths of the Subconscious and it’ll get absorbed. Part of Thomas’s background anxiety until he can banish back to the hellhole from whence it came.

That doesn’t always mean it’s…painless.

Some of them are fine. Some of them are like little misty bits that just putter around where they’re not fucking supposed to be and Virgil can just pluck them out of the air and stuff them into the pockets of his hoodie and wait. These ones really like to bother Patton, for some reason.

Patton’s baking today, cinnamon sugar muffins. He’s humming to himself as he bustles about the kitchen with that weird boundless energy of his that makes everyone want to think about nothing but sunshine. Ruins the hell out of Virgil’s gloomy emo image but hey, fresh muffins. Sacrifices must be made somewhere.

“Did you want to help, Virgil, or are you fine with just sitting there?”

Virgil blinks, having zoned out after the third time watching one of the containers almost fall over. “Nah, I’m good.”

Patton shrugs. “If you change your mind…”

“I won’t, Pat, I’m good. You’re doing great.”

“Aw, thanks!”

Virgil opens his mouth to say something else when he sees a little grey thing twisting in the air next to Patton’s head. He suppresses a sigh and reaches out, careful to make sure Patton’s back is turned as he snags the pesky little thing and whips it away. He stuffs his hand in his pocket as soon as Patton turns around.

“What was that?”

“What was what,” Virgil asks, blinking innocently as he squeezes the icy thing in his pocket, “what’re you talking about?”

Ah, it’s the hands-on-the-hips dad pose today. “I saw you reach for something, mister, now what did you do?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The misty little shit shrivels and disappears, leaving an ice-cold sting on his hand out of sight. “It’s fine.”

“Show me your hands.”

“What?”

“Show me your hands, Virgil.”

Virgil sighs and pulls the unstung hand out of his pocket. “See,” he says, waving it for good measure, “nothing to see here.”

Patton just raises an eyebrow. “And what about the other one?”

“C’mon, Pat—“ he sighs when both of Patton’s eyebrows go up— “fine, here.”

Patton’s eyes widen when he sees the mark on Virgil’s palm. He rushes forward instantly, cradling the injured hand and reaching for a towel. Conveniently, he gets one that was quite near where the misty thing had been floating.

“You could’ve told me you were hurt,” he says softly, tending to the sting with such tenderness that Virgil almost believes it’s something to worry about, “I would’ve helped.”

“But it’s fine, Pat,” Virgil sighs, “I could’ve dealt with it.”

“I know, I know.” Patton gives the hand one last dab with the towel before pronouncing it good enough. “But it’s never a crime to let us help you, kiddo.”

The corner of Virgil’s mouth tugs up. “Thanks, Pat.”

“Oh, of course, kiddo. Now you sit tight, the muffins won’t be another ten minutes.”

“Can’t wait.”

2.

Sometimes the Subconscious decides it’s bored of letting just the little misty bastards out and lets out the fucking ooze.

Have you ever seen Venom? Know how the symbioses move and how weird it is to look at?

Yeah, it kinda looks like that, just without the gay domesticity and mutual pining.

Nah, this ooze is mindless, just wants to—well, it doesn’t want anything, it just gets fucking everywhere. Makes it real hard to think sometimes, messes everything up.

Really likes fucking with Logan. Which first off, is not allowed. Don’t fuck with Logan. Don’t fuck with any of them, Virgil can and will kick your ass, but especially don’t fuck with Logan. Remus will tear you apart and no one will stop him. Except for Logan. Maybe. ‘Cause he’s nice like that.

Anyway, Virgil gets a weird tingle between his shoulders when there’s an oozy bitch up and about. He’s sitting on the couch, minding his own damn business, but then there’s that itch between his shoulders and he perks his head up.

Logan sits in a chair, alternating between scrolling on his laptop and making notes in one of his many notebooks. Virgil frowns, looking around, seeing if there’s any goo to keep track of, only to come up with nothing. Huh.

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

Logan tilts his head, concerned. “Are you alright? You look worried.”

He shakes his head, still squinting around the room. “Weird feeling, that’s it.”

“Will you let me know if it gets unbearable?” Virgil nods. “Thank you. Well, I’m going to get some more coffee, would you like any?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, L, that’d be great.”

Logan nods and stands, going to the kitchen. Leaving his laptop unattended on the coffee table.

Virgil watches as a truly massive ooze slides out from between the couch cushions and toward the laptop.

Not today you slimy bastard.

Unfortunately, he’s just a second too slow as a tendril from the ooze touches the laptop and yanks, pulling the laptop off the coffee table and sending it hurtling toward the floor. Virgil bites back a curse and lunges. His hand grabs the ooze just as his arm catches the laptop.

“Get back here, you little shit,” he grunts, opening his hand and using his power to suck the frothing fucker into his arm where it can go the fuck back to the Subconscious.

“Virgil, you—“

Shit.

Virgil looks up, a little guilty, as Logan comes back around the corner holding two coffee mugs. He looks down and raises an eyebrow.

“You…saved my laptop?”

“It was falling,” Virgil mutters, setting the precious cargo back on the coffee table, “didn’t want it to.”

“Ah. Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” Logan sets one of the coffee mugs down and reaches out a hand to help him up. “Though I assure you it is not the first time that laptop has been dropped.”

“What do you do with your stuff, Lo, I swear you make more cryptic remarks about it than J.”

“It’s all part of the experiment.”

“See, there you go again!”

3.

And then, then sometimes the Subconscious decides oh, it wants to get inventive and spawn this horrific little ooze-demons. Goat head, four legs, runs about like a creepy little horror game creature, they’re fucking awful. They don’t all look the same but they’re always running and climbing about like some gross as hellcat gremlins. Their nails are so sharp.

These fuckers really like messing with Janus. He’s got too many fun things to pull on, too many heavy clothes for them to pull and make him trip, and they like scurrying up his staff too much. They’re absolute fucking nightmares.

The good news is they’re by far the most obvious of the obnoxious little shits that manage to slip through the barriers of the Subconscious. Virgil hears a weird skittering in his ears and knows that one of the little monsters is loose again. Given how they all flock to Janus like he’s some fucking homing beacon, it’s easy to find them.

Janus is pacing back and forth, yanking angrily at the end of his clothes like they’re about to snag on something, his staff clutched in his hand. His head is down, muttering to himself as Virgil walks up.

“J?”

His head whips around. “Oh. Virgil. Certainly expected to see you here.”

“That’s me, always turning up where I’m not wanted.”

“I didn’t say that,” Janus mumbles, resuming his pacing, “though I didn’t mean to summon you. You can go.”

“You didn’t summon me, J,” Virgil says, leaning against the wall and looking around for wherever the bastards are, “I’m here of my own free will.”

“Free will,” Janus scoffs, turning around, “what the hell even is that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil spots movement.

“It’s not like there’s some master document of humans where free will is written into it.”

Slowly, Virgil raises his hand toward the spot, not tearing his eyes off it.

“And the belief that animals don’t have it! Ha, some of them exhibit characteristics of choice much more than we do.”

The little fucker snaps at his fingers as he makes a grab for it. He snags it by the scruff of the beck and yanks.

“And what is this about it being provable? Show me one scientific theory that has space in it for free will. Do it, I dare you.”

Virgil bites back a curse as he wrests the pesky shit around the middle, ignoring the way it chomps and snarls at him.

“Just because you have or don’t have free will doesn’t make you exempt from the constraints of society. Even if you aren’t making your own choices that doesn’t mean you’re the exception to the consequences.”

The teeth that sink into the sleeve of his hoodie are the last to vanish as Virgil breathes out, watching the last of it fade as Janus turns around.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, tugging his hat and gloves, “haven’t been…”

“S’okay, J,” Virgil waves with the hoodie sleeve that isn’t ripped, “you’re good. Come on, let’s go eat something.”

“…pasta?”

“Sure thing, danger noodle.”

“Ugh, I take it back.”

“Whatever you say, hazard macaroni.”

“I’m taller than you!”

4.

It makes sense that the Subconscious decides to send the most insidious shit after the twins. They’re the reason the pieces of shit monsters can’t make it up to the rest of them. And for the most part, they know what to look for. They don’t have the same awareness of all the little idiosyncrasies that Virgil does, but they beat back a fair number of them on their own.

Which is why the ones they can’t are tricky.

Remus is Dark Creativity, he lives in the muck with the monsters. Thrives in it. Loves the way the gross and the unwanted and the sickening twist and turn about his realm, thrills in the horrified swoop in his stomach when something truly gruesome rears its ugly fuckin’ head.

What he can’t deal with is the fog.

The first time Virgil saw it, he honestly thought it was smoke. He thought Remus had set something on fire and panicked, reaching through to try and find the blaze, find Remus, find a goddamn fire extinguisher, but it was cold.

Like…really cold.

You know how when the air is really humid it feels like it has a weight to it? Like it hangs over you like a wet rag that you just can’t shake off?

Imagine that but cold.

Virgil shivers and reaches forward, trying to find Remus. He’s still never gotten used to it, even though he’s seen it so many times now. Remus doesn’t make it out of his room when the fog comes. He blames it on creative block but Janus always hisses gently when he says that.

“Remus? Remus,” Virgil calls using his tempest tongue, “where are you, buddy?”

He can’t see Remus yet, but the call did its work. The fog ripples in front of him, almost shying away from the sound waves as he moves. He keeps calling, keeps watching the fog almost flinch as it recedes from him. His voice grows louder, louder. The fog begins to retreat in earnest.

Finally, he sees Remus, curled up on his bed, staring at the wall. Virgil muffles a curse as he strides forward, crooning as softly as he can in tempest tongue while glaring furiously at the fog as it sheepishly retreats. As the last of it fizzles, Remus’s head comes to flop on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Hey, spider-ling,” he mumbles, “when’d you show up?”

“A few minutes ago.” Virgil brushes Remus’s hair off his forehead. “You looked upset, bud, wanted to come check on you.”

“Fucking fine,” comes the slur, signifying that Remus is anything but, “I’m fucking fine, babe.”

“You’re exhausted and cold.” Virgil scoops him up into his arms. “Come on. Let’s go find J. He’ll spoil you.”

Sure enough, as soon as Janus sees Remus lying in Virgil’s arms, he jumps up with a coo and takes the other side from him, lying him down on something warm and promising to get him something warm to drink. No, Remus, not engine fuel. Something safer, at least for right now.

Virgil stands at the door, waiting.

There’s an itch between his shoulders and another chill down his spine.

A cloud of fog emerges from down the hallway. From it, three shadow gremlins canter toward him.

He grits his teeth and braces.

The first one collides with his shoulder and he grabs it, squeezing until the shadow folds in on itself. The second hits his shin and he punts it into a wall, scooping the remnants and absorbing them. The third one vanishes in a quick shout of tempest tongue.

You’re not gonna get them, he thinks as he shouts the fog away, not on my goddamn watch.

5.

The worst part of the Subconscious is the shadows.

Because they all have shadows. They all do. That’s just the nature of being an opaque thing and existing in proximity near light sources. Shadows are a natural by-product of blocking light, that’s it.

Wow, he’s been spending more time with Logan than he thought. Sweet.

But the Subconscious shadows are different. There’s no such thing as dark. Only an absence of light. There is no substance known as ‘dark,’ sure there’s dark energy or dark matter if you go the physics route, but there isn’t a thing ‘dark’ the way there’s a thing ‘light.’

If you looked at the Subconscious shadows, you’d believe otherwise.

They look normal. They look just like normal shadows. Something resting against the wall casts a shadow. Something moving in front of a window casts a shadow. Something sitting on the edge of the desk casts a shadow.

But these shadows move.

You have to pay such close attention to even catch them. You have to know precisely what on your desk is casting what part of the shadow when—hold on, what is that? Is it the water bottle? No, you pick up the water bottle and the cylinder two spaces across move. So you pick up the lamp and no, that’s not it either. You move your hand—your hand’s shadow is easy to track—and you move it to where it should be overlapping with whatever’s casting that shadow. You look closer. But there’s nothing blocking the light where your hand is, nothing between the light and the wall.

You stare at the shadow.

And then it moves.

See? They’re fucking terrifying. Like some Peter Pan gone wrong shit. Creepy, sinister, innocuous-looking, you’ve got to be constantly on guard to catch them. You have to be smart. These ones, out of all the Subconscious monsters, feel the most spiteful. Like they’re doing this on purpose, to terrorize the Mindscape.

That’s probably why they go for Roman.

Roman holds the barriers the most. Remus pushes them to reinforce them, but Roman draws the lines in the sand. Roman is responsible for keeping Thomas safe from the barriers breaking, is largely responsible for Thomas being able to see the Sides at all.

So of course the Subconscious hates him.

Roman is the only one who will summon Virgil when he thinks there’s something wrong. Sure, it’s never been quite as simple as Virgil showing up and Roman telling him he’s scared, he thinks something just moved. They used to just throw barbs at each other until Roman was distracted enough for Virgil to suck up the shadow, or fight until Virgil pointed out where it was and Roman said it was just a test, but they’re better now.

Virgil appears in Roman’s room and immediately looks around. Roman sits on the bed, his hands folded primly over the sword in his lap, polishing the pommel with forced calm.

“There are at least three,” he says, his voice perfectly even, “I can’t keep track of them anymore.”

“It’s okay, Princey,” Virgil says softly, turning and turning to try and catch them, “I’m here now. You did a good thing calling me. Are you alright?”

“I’m here,” Roman says, forcing a little false cheer into it, “not the biggest fan of what’s happening, but I’m here.”

Virgil smiles at him briefly before he sees the flicker.

There.

“Roman,” he says calmly, “I need you to go stand by the window.”

Roman gets up and walks to the window, sitting under the sill and closing his eyes. Virgil grits his teeth and makes his shadow overlap with the one on the wall.

It burns as he starts to absorb it, writhing in protest and screeching silently for the others to come help. Sweat begins to bead on Virgil’s forehead as two move shadows race to enlarge his silhouette. Goddamn, they’re vicious tonight. What the hell would they have done to Roman if he hadn’t called?

Not on my goddamn watch.

He’s panting by the time they’re gone, but he’s alright. He’s good. They’re gone. Roman is safe. He turns and opens his arms, letting Roman come and bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” Roman murmurs quietly, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Princey, this is my job.” He claps Roman on the shoulder. “You did good too.”

Roman huffs. “I sat in the corner. That’s not much.”

“And you did great. Now come on, Pat’s making cookies.”

“Oh, right, is it Remus’s night to help?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm…maybe we should swing by and warn Logan first.”

“Good idea.”

+1.

Nothing’s happened in a while and Virgil is getting worried.

Normally the longest they go without an incident is a month, maybe, and then it’s normally back-to-back nonsense for like a week.

But it’s been three months. And nothing. No misty tendrils, no puddles of ooze, no snapping gremlins, no fog, no shadows. Virgil’s just about on the verge of running a round-the-clock patrol of the damn place just to make sure he doesn’t miss anything.

As it turns out, he needn’t have bothered.

Stupid, stupid. Idiot.

He fucking missed it. He fucking missed it.

All the other Sides had monsters that went after them specifically. Why should Virgil get left out?

The Subconscious hadn’t been stopping, or slowing down, no. It had been biding its fucking time.

And now…

Virgil scrambles backward, trying to keep himself between the door to the Imagination and the figure in front of him. They slash at him again and he dodges just in the nick of time. He winces, claps a hand to his chest, and literally feels his heart skip a beat as his hand passes right through.

He’s being absorbed.

The figure raises a dripping, shadowy arm and brings the weapon down again. Virgil can’t stop dodging long enough to get a good look at it. He only knows that it fucking hurts and that it’s draining him. Draining him back into the Subconscious.

If he can just keep it here, if he can just hold off long enough to figure out what to do—

Another slash comes down on his arm and he yells, tempest tongue dying in his throat. That one fucking hurt.

He throws a handful of dirt up just to see if maybe it will blind them or give them a moment’s pause but no. The dirt just sinks into it like some fucking nightmare vacuum. The next strike collides.

“Virgil? Virgil?”

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“It’s draining him, move!”

“Hang on, Virgil, we’re coming!”

“Don’t you fucking dare hit him again!”

The figure turns, only to jump out of the way when Remus’s Morningstar smashes into the ground where they had been standing. Remus growls, ripping it out of the soil and swinging again. The figure parries the blow only to let out an inhuman wail as Roman’s sword slices its arm.

“Get the fuck away from him,” Remus snarls.

“Back!” Roman swings again, driving them away from Virgil. “Back, foul beast!”

“Don’t insult them by comparing the beasts to whatever the fuck this is.”

Logan rushes up before Virgil can open his mouth to ask what the fuck is going on, dropping to his knees and pressing something warm to Virgil’s chest.

“Virge? Virge, stay with me,” he calls softly, “come on, it’s alright, we’re here now.”

“How—“ Virgil gasps as his chest starts to…resolidify? “How did you—what? How?”

“Oh, Virgil,” Logan murmurs, rubbing whatever the miracle thing on his chest is in small circles, “did you really think we never noticed that you were trying to fight them by yourself?”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“Shh,” he soothes, helping Virgil up into a seated position, “it’s okay. We’re not mad. Just worried. You’re hurt.”

“Fuck!”

“Just stab them, Ro.”

“I’m trying!”

Despite himself, Virgil huffs a laugh as he leans against Logan. “Are they—we should help.”

“You,” Logan says sternly, “will sit here and let me finish making sure you won’t be drained. The twins can handle themselves.”

Still, Virgil’s heart stays in his throat until he spies something else running up the hill. A shadow beast, a massive one.

“Logan, look out—”

Logan turns and—

Who the fuck gave Logan a gun?

The shadow beast has flopped over onto its side and dissipated, Logan already back to tending to Virgil’s wound but the time Virgil’s dizzy, half-drained brain figures out what just happened.

“You…you shot it.”

Logan quirks an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

“Remus!”

“Get back!”

“What the hell is it doing?”

“It’s growing, shit, Ro, we gotta fall back.”

“Guard Logan, check on Virgil, I’m right behind you!”

The twins rush up and form a guard around Logan and Virgil as the shadow figure swells. Virgil’s eyes widen as it growls, growing larger and larger and larger still until the shadows look strapped at the seams, fit to burst. It grows claws. It grows teeth. It grows more limbs than he can count.

It leers down at them and opens a gaping, black maw.

“Now!”

Roman crouches down to shield him as dirt flies up around them. Logan bends in too as something equally massive soars overhead. Virgil manages to peek between Roman and Remus to see a blur of green tackle the monster.

“Is that…is that Patton?”

“I believe it’s ‘Lily Pad-ton,’” Logan corrects wryly as the twins snicker, “but…yes.”

Judging by the roar of the monster, he’s doing something.

“Where’s Janus,” he hears Roman hiss, “he should’ve been here by now.”

“There!”

Remus points and Virgil spots a fucking enormous yellow snake unhinging its jaw. The monster howls as it starts to vanish down the snake’s gullet.

“Holy fuck.”

“I think Janny’s hungry.”

“Pissed off, more like.” Roman lays a hand protectively on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing encouragingly as Virgil gasps at the contact. “Whatever that thing is hurt Virgil.”

Remus growls in assent.

The thing in Virgil’s chest starts to burn hotter. Logan shushes him gently as he whines in pain.

“It’s alright, Virgil, you’re almost done. We’re right here, just breathe.”

“You’re safe, sweetheart,” Roman murmurs as he starts to list side to side, “we’ve got you.”

“Nothing’s gonna fucking touch you,” he hears Remus snarl as he passes out, “promise.”

He comes to an indeterminate amount of time later, laid out on the couch, his head in Patton’s lap. He blinks.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, stroking his hair, “you feel any better?”

“Um, yeah,” he mumbles, turning a little and wincing at the pull in his chest, “what…what happened?”

“We won.” Roman pats his arm. “All safe now. You did great.”

“All I did was lie there.”

“Yeah, and you did great.” He winks.

Virgil’s gaze rolls around to catch Logan setting down a glass of water and crouching by his head.

“L?”

“You’re all better physically,” Logan says softly, “but it might take some time for you to feel like it. Just take it easy for a while.”

“And that means,” comes Remus’s voice from over the couch, “you gotta let us help defend you too.”

Virgil flushes. “But it’s not your job.”

“Are you insinuating that our job is not to take care of you?” Roman holds his hand to his chest in a mock gasp. “Because that is rude.”

Patton gives his hair a gentle tug. “We’re gonna look after you, kiddo, you deserve it.”

“I—um…” Virgil swallows heavily. “But if I dealt with it properly you wouldn’t have to.”

A soft hiss comes from the chair. Virgil looks and sees Janus sitting there, one leg crossed over the other. He smiles softly.

“You can let us help you, sweetie,” he murmurs, “rest for a little. Don’t try and take on the Subconscious by yourself.”

“…okay.” He squints. “Wait, why are you all the way over there?”

“Digesting,” Janus says, completely dignified.

Virgil snorts. “I’m just sad I missed it.”

“Oh, it was fucking epic.”

“Language, kiddo.”

“Oh, come on, you were great—“

Logan chuckles next to his head as Virgil drifts back off to sleep with a smile on his face.

…he is gonna ask who gave Logan a gun after he wakes up properly.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #lamp #dlamp #dlampr #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: V

“I must admit, I thought I’d like to make you mine

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

— Only Angel, Harry Styles

A/N: this chapter...it was probably my fav to write, so far!!! i just adore these two clueless morons so much like i just can’t shut up about them. quite a bit happens in this part and it’s all to build that slow burn, friends to lovers shit we all know and love baYBEEEEE!!! and also The Crew make an appearance because hello we love to see it, we truly do 😌😌😌 especially the man, the myth, the legend, Mitch Rowland and honestly?? this is HIS chapter fuck vampirerry!!! but yeah i hope y’all like what’s in store for the Dynamic Duo this time around and remember that feedback is truly, madly, deeply™ appreciated! and if you enjoy it, please reblog it! spreading content keep creators motivated! without further delay, let’s dive in  😼  

harry’s condo : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 34k 

content/warnings: witty banter, some nice fluff, jacuzzi sex, more fluff, a very testing phone call, some face f*cking, a soft shower, rough degradation, the return of The Handcuffs, an unexpected visit from The Three Stooges, more cheeky banter because that’s their brand, and the reveal of jealous asshole Harry 

///   

Y/N giddly accepts Harry’s offer to stay the weekend and the vampire can confidently say it’s one of the best he’s had in the last decade. 

He’d startled even himself when the suggestion had risen abruptly from his mouth, leaving him blinking blankly as a result. He rarely allows anyone to spend more than a day in his condo— his friends being the only exception— because he’s grown to like the quiet solitude that comes with living on his own. He very solemnly has people over whom he hasn’t known for at least a few years, and that rule is reinforced on stricter grounds when it comes to humans. Especially when the only true connection they could possibly carry to him is through the area between their legs. 

But Harry has become strangely fond of Y/N in the last four weeks— fond enough to freely refer to her as a friend and endeared enough to bypass the fact that she’s mortal. She just looks so unbelievably cute padding around his apartment barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of crumpled, sunflower-doodled panties and his Nike olive green jumper, her hair a mangled mess with traces of his cologne smeared across the bruised skin of her neck. Admittedly, it’s a sight he wants to see more often, which is a stab at his ego because he’s never been one to dwell on sentimentality— not for a while. It’s a bit cliche and gross, in his opinion, but when it comes to this one particular girl...well, maybe it’s not too bad. Indulging some soft pastimes can't do much damage, especially when it aids his plan to keep her interested until he himself grows bored. 

It can only do good, which is probably what had spurred him into asking her to extend her stay. For once, he found himself not craving his usual silent seclusion. Not when that self-imposed isolation could be filled with her loud laughter, warm lips, and sweet moans instead. 

And much to his satisfaction, Harry gets just that. 

For the next two days, the creature gets all of his needs and wants attended to, both recreational and intimate. Y/N seems to enjoy it thoroughly, as well, walking— or rather waddling, really, thanks to some of their raunchier activities— around his flat happily, constantly clad in a pair of his boxers and one of his graphic tees. He gets off on it— it’s hard not to, especially with the way she fits his clothes so effortlessly, almost as if she was made to fill them. Or the way the scent of his shampoo is combed through every strand of her hair, his smell slathered all over her as if she’s unconsciously trying to mark herself as his. Or the way new love bites cover the ones his blood had nearly faded, which she dotes shamelessly by pushing all her hair behind her shoulders so Harry can get a perfect view of every welt he’s left behind on her throat. Or the way she unapologetically giggles at all his jokes and crude humor, and how she paddles his witty banter right back at him with that clever gleam in her irises. 

He gets off on the way Y/N cuddles into him on the couch while they’re watching some mindless Food Network series, her body heat expelling the stiff coldness from his limbs. The way she kisses tenderly along the underside of his jaw, forefinger tracing over his Adam’s Apple teasingly, a smile spreading against his skin when she feels it bob heavily. The way she’ll sneak her hand between his thighs and palm him over his briefs, taking the shell of his ear between her teeth and hissing lowly when his cock twitches against her fingers, her voice soft as silk but heavy with dirty intentions. “Want to make you feel good again, H. Can I?” 

The human girl is a blessing, while simultaneously being a walking, talking sin, and the monster’s never been more willing to damn himself to Hell. And he would gladly do it, if he wasn’t already living it in the form of blood-driven eternity.

It’s an eventful weekend, that’s for sure, and despite the fact that they share an abundance of memorable moments, there are a few that Harry deems especially unforgettable. 

The jacuzzi sex sits at the top of that list. 

Y/N had practically squealed when she’d laid eyes on the glorified tub in his bathroom, pacing over to it excitedly and leaning down to run her fingers over the control panel along the rim. Her voice had come out whispered, full of child-like wonder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Harry had walked over to stand beside her, his icy digits pressing on top of her warm own, finagling the buttons into his preferred settings. Hot water begins to shoot out of all the polished jets one by one, slowly filling the pool and covering the dark marble wrap-around ledge used as seating. The vampire quickly fetches the bag of lavender Epsom salts he keeps close by, scooping a couple handfuls into the frothing hot tub, along with pouring in a decent amount of jasmine bubble bath. 

His lips jolt when he catches Y/N eyeing the jacuzzi in awe, her hands clasped to her chest in delight as she teeters back and forth ever so slightly on her heels. The water shuts off once it reaches the appropriate level, leaving behind a thick, luxurious sheet of suds that smells of sugary florals and clean linen. The second the jets retract, Harry doesn’t even have time to make a comment before Y/N begins stripping down hurriedly, obviously restless to take on this new experience. 

Harry spontaneously jerks to the side out of habit, averting his sight to allow her some privacy. His tone is soft and amused. “Clean towels are in the hamper along the other side of the tub.” He signals blindly towards where he knows the basket is situated. “Call me back in when you need help with the shower knobs. And don’t—”

The immortal spots something streak across his peripheral vision, cocking his head a bit just in time to see her flower-print panties toss onto the tiled floor. He rolls his eyes playfully, scoffing to himself at the innocence of the article. It matches her persona perfectly. 

He hears a splash crack through the air behind him, meaning that Y/N has submerged herself in the water and that it is now safe for him to turn around without threatening her decency. However, he doesn’t think she’d mind if he did and he finds himself wondering why he’d looked away in the first place. The answer comes to him simply: it was a residual mannerism from the era he was raised in. His default Victorian etiquette can be so fucking annoying sometimes. 

He spins around on his socked heels, lean arms folding casually across his broad chest, naked tattoos glinting under the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. He slinks his head to the side, entertained at the view he finds. Y/N is sitting amidst the blanket of pink bubbles, covered up to her shoulders as she cups soap into her palms, blowing at it and watching the suds float across the air before popping. The adorable smile that breaks across her face makes Harry’s stomach flutter. 

The vampire steps forward to catch her attention, leaning a hip against the edge of the tub and pursing his lips to hide an adoring grin. The corners of his mouth betray him as soon as Y/N looks up at him, hair slicked back with water and bubbles, matted to the sides of her neck and across her jaw as she beams up at him. 

“Your place is literally an adult playground.” The human states wistfully, her arms floating across the surface of the bath as she drifts closer to him, creating more suds. “You’re gonna have to get me kicked out tomorrow ‘cause I’m not leaving on my own.” 

Harry snorts, ducking down and wiping some soap off the tips of her eyelashes. “I don’t think security detail was part of the lease, so I might have to do it myself.”

“I can easily take you.” Y/N remarks jokingly, waving a hand dismissively. “Better make some space, I’m moving in next week.” 

“I’d say I would start clearing out my storage room for you,” Harry leans forward, ghosting his lips over hers and thumbing over the curve of her chin, batting his lashes sultrily, “but I think we both know you’d end up in my bed either way. Best leave it as is.” 

“Yeah,” Y/N momentarily glimpses down at his mouth, eyes glitzing with the slightest bit of hunger, “I think it's best if we just split the bed.” 

“Oh, we’ll definitely split the bed— split it right down the middle.” Harry grips her jaw firmly and locks her into a wet, sloppy kiss for a few elongated heartbeats, tugging at her bottom lip and biting it jestingly before pulling back. 

Y/N chases after him, craving more of his taste, but the boy draws back fully and pats at her cheek with smug finality. Her begrudging pout makes him release a boyish giggle. “Anyways, as I was saying before, my last rule: Don’t pee in the tub. Cleaning it is a bitch and that’s the last thing I want to deal with.” 

The mortal laughs airily, nodding her head in confirmation that she understands. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Thank you.” Her friend huffs, shoulders slumping dramatically in relief. Harry takes on a theatrical ominous edge, quirking his brows warningly. “Didn’t end well for the last person who did.” 

“Is that so?” Y/N inquires daringly, lowering herself deeper into the water until it covers her chin. “What happened? Did you have to take on the role of executioner again?”

Harry thinks back to that instance, shaking his head in amusement at the memory. It had been Niall— anything that has to do with testing his patience almost always leads to Niall— and to make a long story short, the Irish bloke had ended up having to regrow an ear. But he can’t necessarily confess that supernatural event to Y/N, no matter how funny it is, so he just shrugs offhandedly and gives her a dark look full of faux mystery, voice adopting the same affect. “I’ve already said too much.” 

The young woman casts her eyes up to the ceiling humorously. “Moron.” 

“Watch it, love.” Harry tuts, narrowing his eyes at her pointedly in an attempt to suppress the smirk that is about to stem from his next comment. “I’m not the one with the degradation kink here.” 

Y/N scrunches her face at him mockingly, trying to hide the way his quip had made her heart hiccup. She mimics his accent, sticking up her middle finger from beneath a mountain of rosy bubbles. “Piss off.” 

“Gladly.” Harry bites back cheekily in an American accent. He leans down, retrieving his Nike sweater and her underwear from the rumpled pile on the ground, his intentions set on taking them across the hall to the laundry room with the rest of her clothes. That way, her stuff will be nice and clean for when she needs it again Sunday night. “Just call if you need me, yeah?” 

Harry gets about three feet towards the door before Y/N’s soft voice halts him, piping up as gentle and timid as usual. “Wait…”

The vampire glances over his shoulder, eyebrows poised in question as he absentmindedly flips his jumper inside-out in anticipation for the wash. 

Y/N swims across the extent of the jacuzzi until she’s right in front of where he’d stopped, resting her forearms along the rim and plopping her chin atop her folded hands. She gazes up at Harry through her lashes and he can see the manner in which she shifts her footing beneath the small waves, almost as preparing to stand up from the water. “Don’t go.” 

Harry’s eyes go half-lidded in a flat expression as he hangs his sweatshirt over the inside of his elbow. “Didn’t you literally just tell me to piss off five seconds ago?”

“I changed my mind.” 

“Well, that’s just too bad. You already hurt my feelings. No take-backs.” 

“Idiot.”

“Try again.” 

“What’s that one insult British people say? Oh, yeah! Knobhead.” 

“You’re really not helping your case here.” 

Y/N sighs in exasperation, using her palms to boost herself up until she’s standing fully inside the hot tub. Water cascades down her shoulders and out of her sopping hair, following the curves of her bare torso and trickling across her jaw. She teeters forward until her face is only a few inches away from Harry’s, lulling her head to the side expectantly with a certain slyness swirling around her pupils. She chews on her lower lip as she gives him a suggestive once-over. “How about now? Does this help my case?”

Harry keeps his eyes pinned to her own, refusing to submit to temptation. He knows exactly what she’s trying to do, and he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of allowing it to work. Not yet, at least. He wants her to beg for it. 

The creature twists towards her entirely, irises bright with the excitement of a new challenge. Even with the slight elevation the jacuzzi provides, Harry still towers over Y/N at least a good four inches. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough that she has to tilt her chin up to maintain direct eye contact. The tip of his cold nose brushes over hers, eyebrows shrugging tauntingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, darling.”

Y/N reaches forward without breaking their stares, taking the clothes from Harry’s grasp and haphazardly chucking them onto the towel hamper. Now with his arms free, the immortal props his hands onto his hips, his biceps and shoulders flexing with the motions. He’s peacocking to try and intimate her, and in any other circumstance, it would probably work, but Y/N knows she has the upper-hand at the moment; she’s naked and wet and docile, and with the way Harry’s handsome features are hardening in determination, she can tell she’s whittling him down. All it would take is one well-coordinated touch here, a lingering stroke there, and maybe a gentle caress of her lips down the valley of his pectorals…

Y/N goes for something better. She reaches upwards to intertwine her fingers around the nape of Harry’s neck, tugging him closer until their chests meld together, the heat from the water radiating off her waxy skin and sinking into his freezing own. His breathing catches as soon as he feels her pert nipples press into his chest and even though he’s keeping his sight trained on her face, he can just barely see the curves of her breasts less than a foot below. Their close proximity is making them swell upwards, urging him to give in and have his way with her however he wants. And fuck, does he want to. But he’s not going to let her bait him that easily— who would he be if he allowed this human girl to toy with him in such a fashion? Harry never lets anyone puppet him— not anymore, not ever again— and especially not when it comes to sex, which is one of his most skilled domains. He certainly isn’t going to let her win. 

Harry grabs Y/N’s wrists from where they are perched around his neck, giving her a hard look that lets her know who’s in charge of the situation. He brings her hands up before her face, flipping them over so she gets a proper view of the faint bruising that lines her flesh, leftover from the previous evening’s restraints. When he speaks, it’s low and throaty with a condescending undercurrent. “Remember what happened last time you acted like a brat?”

Images flash by the forefront of Y/N’s mind like a film on fast-forward, recalling the night to which Harry is referring. The young man had tied her to her headboard and fingered her until she was left a teary mess, refusing to let her orgasm each time she got close. Then, he had tossed the girl onto her tummy and rammed into her from behind until her aged bedframe had nearly splintered. If she focuses intently enough, she can still feel the satisfying ache he had left behind, which had haunted her for days afterwards. 

The mortal swallows heavily, nodding her head a tad. 

Harry raises an eyebrow with an awaiting air. “Remember what I said about using your words?”

Y/N bobs her head again quickly. After a moment, she realizes her repeated mistake, clearing her throat softly in order to fix it. “Yes.”

“Good.” The vampire drops her hands, coasting his palms up her neck to cup either sides of her jaw, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones almost tenderly. “Now let me ask you again. Do you remember what happened last time you acted like a little brat?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you want a repeat of that?”

“No, I—” Y/N pauses in hindsight, retracting her previous statement. “Well, actually…”

Harry’s ruby lips string into a coy smirk at her response, well acquainted with where her thoughts are leading. He presses their foreheads together, the damp stickiness of her warm flesh sending a shiver toppling down his spine. “Let me guess. You want a repeat of the part where I shoved your face into a pillow and fucked you until you squirted all over me?” 

He can feel blood surge into her cheeks beneath his fingertips as a result of his vulgar words. “Yes, please.”

Harry gnaws along the inside of his cheek as he recalls that event. He can practically feel her gushing around his cock all over again, her walls tightening around him as her whole body trembled in his grasp, her shattered whimpers stinging his ears as he continued to slam into her until she’d completely drenched both of their thighs. His eyelids fall shut in dreamy recollection and an image skims by of his initial rings marked across her ass; it nearly sends his knees out from under him. “Fuck, that was so hot, wasn’t it?”

“So fucking hot.” Y/N sighs shakily, lashes fluttering as his warm breath washes across her tingling mouth. “Harry, I just...I just want to ride you so fucking bad right now.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” Harry touches over her quivering bottom lip, somehow managing to feel her pulse. It’s battering so hard, he could probably sense it through any spot on her body, at this point. “You want me to sit in there with you just so you can bounce on my cock, baby?” 

“Please…” Y/N sounds as if she’s on the verge of crying, all of her desperate need translating into her wrecked voice. Her next phrase is something she doesn’t think she’s ever spoken before, but the intensity of the moment just feels so right to test it out, and Harry feels like the right person to test it with. After another heavy gulp and a lick at her dry lips, she chimes up once again, bashful and pliant. “Please, Daddy?”

The sound of a sharp inhale echoes off the marble and porcelain walls of the bathroom, stemming from Harry’s garbled throat. It feels like the temperature in the atmosphere has gone up twenty degrees, invisible flames lapping across the muscles of his taut back and across the tendons of his tight shoulders. His entire body seems to go into shock, lungs stuttering and stomach hollowing out. His lashes snap shut without a heartbeat to spare, webs of black veins materializing over the whites of his eyes as a reaction to Y/N’s brazen comment. 

He has been indulging fantasies of her calling him that specific name for weeks now, but had never asked out of respect for her boundaries. He figured that if she had an affinity for it, it would eventually make its way out of her mouth during one of their sessions, and he had been willing to be patient enough to wait. It had paid off, it seems. 

Harry releases his grip on the girl’s face, reaching down to messily shove his black briefs down his clammy thighs, eyes flickering open now that he has forced some control into his demeanor. He sets his intent on her expression, the jade of his irises bleeding lust as he catches her gawking at him. Y/N gazes down at where he’s occupied, her lips parting slightly with starved awe as his underwear falls away to pool at his feet, revealing the part of him she has grown so addicted to in the last month. It looks so pretty, with a neatly trimmed pubic area, thick girth, and pleasurable length. She never knew cocks could be appealing, considering she always found their appearance so odd and irrelevant. That is, until Harry. It appears she thought a lot of sexual things irrelevant until Harry. 

He kicks away his clothes, nudging at her boiling cheeks with his nose to garner attention, his tone low and inexplicably strained. “Say it again.”

Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against his heaving chest as she gathers her bearings, shuddering with a difficult exhale. She says it a bit louder this time, but still inherently weak, almost as if she’s scared their shadows might overhear. “Please, Daddy?”

Harry’s brows furrow with puncurting desire, a broken groan stirring deep in his lungs. “God, that sounds so good coming from your mouth. Been wanting to hear you say it for ages now.” 

“Really?”

He nods fervently, nose bumping hers with every movement and he takes this chance to peek down at her naked figure, swallowing thickly at how incredible her breasts look flushed to his pecs. “Think about it constantly. Always wondered what it would take to get it out of you.” 

“I wish you’d just told me.” The human mumbles, tracing his cupid’s bow with the crest of her own. “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while now.” 

Harry chuckles lightly, humming in amusement as he snakes a strong arm around the dip of her spine, drawing her closer as much as possible. He just wants to feel every inch of her wet, velvety skin. “Well, now you can say it all you want. Over and over and over, while I make your knees shake and your back arch.” 

Y/N sputters out a bundle of feathery giggles, looping her arms around his neck and carding her fingers into his shiny curls, pulling his lips down to meet hers in a restless kiss full of quiet whines and snippets of laughter. She talks into his mouth, starting to pant as the pace becomes more passionate, full of eager tongues and nipping teeth. “Now will you please get in and let me fuck you?” 

Harry mounts one knee onto the edge of the hot tub, his free hand jutting down against the marble for reinforcement as the other keeps her trapped against his body. “Yeah...Yeah, I think I will.” 

He crawls into the heated water, submerging up to his waist due to his height. Once he’s balanced himself within the pool, the palm pressed to the brim slips away, replacing the cold stone with the simmering skin of Y/N’s jaw once again. He tangles his fingers into her hair as he nurses her face to the side, deepening their prolonged kiss, and the whimper she pours into his mouth makes every cell in his body throb with longing. Y/N’s hands ride down his lean stomach and over his pelvic bones, fingers twitching the closer she gets to his cock. She stops right before she reaches his base, wracked with the slightest bit of shy hesitation. 

“Go ahead, doll.” Harry murmurs softly, hips bucking forward once against the pads of her digits. “I want you to touch me.”

Y/N’s palm disappears below the mounds of bubbles, cupping over his cock and giving it a rough grope. Harry gasps brokenly against her lips at the sensation, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards into a blissful simper when her breathing throttles just a smidge. Y/N gradually begins to work him below the gentle waves of the water, eyes rolling back when she feels him harden in her hold. She’ll never get used to how erotic it is having Harry shatter under her influence.

“I think it's funny,” she begins, voice delicate and humorous, contradicting the insistent actions she’s partaking below, “how you were threatening me with orgasm denial two minutes ago and now you’re being all nice.” 

The vampire thrusts slightly against her strokes, tiny noises escaping his taut throat as a familiar boiling begins to simmer in his veins. His tone is detached and pinched with the effort of maintaining composure. “S’hardly a fair point, considering you caught me off guard with that pet name.”

“Is that so?” The girl inquires playfully, giving the tip of his cock a hard squeeze and scoffing against his mouth when he releases a tight grunt. 

“Mm. You always…” Harry draws back from her intoxicating mouth, looking down at her over the crests of his tinted cheekbones to admire the faint imprint of his teeth along her swollen lips. His mind feels like it’s been pumped with syrup, thoughts swishing around lazily, his emotions still somewhat exposed from the mishap that had occurred during their breakfast serenade. It had been over two hours ago, but the wound was still fresh in his subconscious, causing small pinpricks of anxiety to stain his otherwise carefree personality. He feels as if his chest had been cut open with a scalpel, his insides had been rearranged out of order, and the gash had been resewn brutishly; he feels disarrayed and defiled. And because of some simple human girl who’s as fragile and insipidly transparent as glass. 

The immortal’s voice comes out as a whisper, carrying the weight of his confused, raw state. “You always catch me off guard.” 

Y/N blinks up at him innocently, gnawing on her bottom lip at his sweet compliment, her heart somersaulting within her ribcage. “You catch me off guard, too. Always keep me on my toes, which is something I was never really used to.” 

“Do you...” Harry forces down the lump in his throat, allowing himself to be vulnerable for the sake of seeking an answer. Though their problems are vastly different— she’s referring to her small-town, conservative mentality, whereas he’s shouldering two hundred years worth of emotional trauma— he’s more than happy to absorb any advice she could possibly offer. He needs to know how to shut this off; he hates feeling so unsure of himself. It’s like he’s wading through a forest blindfolded, disoriented and uncalibrated with no sense of direction or purpose. He hasn’t felt this helpless since… “Do you hate it?”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut, lashes dusting the apples of her cheeks in a way that Harry deems almost ethereal. She shakes her head lightly in his grasp, a hazy smile adorning her face. “Do I hate that you take me out of my comfort zone? I don’t think I do, actually. I like it. I like that every moment we spend together is something new. I was so used to following the status quo and retracing other’s steps, I never noticed how boring it all was. But you’re never boring. You make everything fun and adventurous, and it’s just so...” 

Y/N laughs a tad, trying to come up with a word she can’t quite place, too distracted in how her friend’s thumbs are caressing her jaw. The hand she has below the water has stopped its motions all together, her focus placed solely on the young man’s beautiful features. The copper specks in his eyes glitter in the white light of the bathroom, looking like polished amber gems. “Uhm...It’s...It’s so—”

“Scary...but exhilarating.” Harry finishes her sentence, a quivering sigh coaxing out of his tight chest. He feels like he’s going to vomit. 

Y/N bobs her head in agreement, hands drifting to wrap around his dainty wrists, giving them a soft squeeze as if to reassure herself that he’s real. “Yeah, that’s it. It’s...exciting, kind of.” 

The creature swallows heavily and releases her face, peeling his eyes away from Y/N’s for fear of letting her see him so defenseless, brows creasing in burning unsettlement. Instead, he lends his attention to outlining the speckling of white strewn into the dark marble of the bathroom wall, using that distraction to calm the raging in his belly. Out of the edge of his vision, he can see Y/N’s face fall, the grip she has on his wrists loosening. A spike of pain shoots through his unbeating heart— similar to what he had endured earlier— at the sadness behind her gesture, but he stifles it with stubborn spite. This isn’t him. It hasn’t been for decades now, and he’d grown to like it as so. In his experience, attachment leads to suffering, and suffering leads to misery. And with all of the centuries he has ahead of him, misery is the last companion he needs. 

Harry clears his throat emptily, slashing through the tension that had suspended in the air between them. He glimpses down at her, undoing the knot between his eyebrows and putting as much playful ease into his irises as he can muster, urging the corners of his lips into his signature smirk. “I guess we just excite each other, then. Though that’s become pretty obvious by now, I think.” 

Y/N purses her mouth to hide the immature grin his innuendo is attempting to weed out, all awkwardness dissipating from her aura. “I guess we do.” 

The monster ducks down to flirt his lips over the human’s, arms tying around her lower back and hiking her upwards. Y/N yelps in surprise, instinctively clamping her legs around his waist and giggling as he lugs her from side to side jokingly, pretending he’s about to drop her into the pool. “Why don’t we go back to exciting one another, hm?” 

Y/N’s nose rubs across the bridge of Harry’s and she gasps lightly when she feels the head of his cock prod at her entrance, dipping in a bit to tease her, spreading her open just enough to wheedle a soft hiss. She shivers in his arms despite the heat wafting up from the warm water, a very different type of warmth pouring into the area between her legs. The girl clings to the sides of the English boy’s neck, spinning a damp curl around her forefinger— he’d gotten his hair wet when he’d splashed into the jacuzzi, and the manner in which his ringlets are gluing across his flexing neck and sharp jaw is doing her in. 

She gives a small nod, eyes flickering down to his tempting lips and back up at his devious gaze. “Yeah, alright.” 

In Harry’s expert opinion, it’s safe to say they definitely excite each other. It’s pretty evident in the way their bodies mold perfectly, satisfying their own desires while simultaneously fulfilling the other’s. The vampire ends up sitting on top of the ledge that circles the inside wall of the pool, his head hanging over the edge with his mouth parted in an open grin, filthy moans and needy whines pouring from his tongue freely as Y/N rocks onto his slick cock. The girl balances herself on her knees, backside crashing down against his thighs in harsh slams full of reckless urgency— she needs this more than she’d ever care to admit. Her nails dig into Harry’s strong shoulders for stability, head thrown back in sheer bliss as her chest bounces with every thrust, the trench of her tummy rippling with contented heat. He just makes her feel so fucking full.

“God, y-you’re so big.” Y/N mewls, swinging her hips in small circles that draw an array of fractured sounds of pleasure from Harry’s taut throat. “You stretch me out so fucking good, Har.” 

Harry’s hands tighten into fists against the glossy plastic of the jacuzzi, arms slung casually over the sides of the tub in a relaxed posture. He doesn’t want to bother with taking control at this particular moment; he’s too busy reveling in the ecstasy Y/N is pounding into his system. He jolts with every rough dip of her hips, the corners of his raw lips winking his dimples awake as he looks up at her through barely-cracked eyes, the weight of his mounting orgasm heavy on his lashes. “Love that cock, don’t you? Can tell by the way you always kiss it right before you take it down your throat.” 

Y/N grapples onto her friend's neck blindly, one palm grasping the center of his jugular as the other cradles his defined jaw, her thumb smearing across his lips as a result of her choppy movements. Harry cranes his head forward a bit to get a better view, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of her finger as an appreciative thrum rumbles against the hand she has covering his Adam’s Apple. “You look so beautiful when you fuck me all desperate like that.”

Y/N whimpers as she swivels against his lap eagerly, driving herself towards a climax that she knows will leave her utterly ruined. Harry glances down to where their centers meet below the water, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he peers through the violently sloshing waves and frothy suds, watching Y/N glide over him easily now that she’d gotten used to his size. He leans forward, slowly planting a trail of suckling kisses up the center of his friend’s tummy and over the valley of her chest, looking upwards through his long lashes and smiling lewdly into her flesh every time her walls squeeze at the action. She’s so snug around him, he’s convinced no one could ever fit him this well. 

His words come out as a raspy growl. “You’re such a tight little thing. Never get tired of that perfect cunt. S’like you were made to take me this deep.” 

Y/N collapses forward, her grip shooting up to trade his face with his drenched curls. She sponges her mouth messily over his, gasping onto his tongue as the motions of the water batter against her sensitive clit. Her brows cinch with hunger, tone pleading. “Touch me. Please? Want— Want your hands on me while I ride you.” 

Harry shakes his head tauntingly, licking across her top lip and teething at the crescent above it. “I don’t think so, angel. I like seeing you do all the work, for once. You look so good using me to get yourself off.” 

The girl fists at his hair almost cruelly, her sanity gradually slipping. “But I...I like it when you use me, too.” 

“Trust me, I’m well aware.” The vampire muses arrogantly, spreading his meaty thighs wider so that her strokes have a more profound impact. His position works as intended, seen in how Y/N slows for a second when she sinks down to the hilt, a breathy, “Fuck, that’s so deep.” scraping past the cracks of her gritted teeth. 

Harry bucks upward symbolically, signaling for her to regain her rhythm; one look at his dominantly smug expression has her abiding instantly. He lays his head against his bare shoulder, studying every clench of her belly and every heave of her breasts, etching this picture into his extensive list of memories. His voice flows out as thick and silky as molasses. “I just can’t get enough of watching you make yourself cum around my cock.” 

“I j-just want you to fuck me.” Y/N is nearly sobbing, her fingertips carving into his scalp as she kisses over his colored cheeks and tinged nose, trying to swindle him into giving her what she wants. “I’ll do anything you want. Promise.” 

“Always so willing, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles darkly, groaning lightly when she suddenly tenses around his length. He can feel his nails breaking the skin of his palms as his fists contract. “You want me to make you scream, is that it? Want Daddy to pound you until you can’t stand anymore?”  

Hearing him refer to himself that way sends electricity coursing down her spine. “Want it so bad.” 

The creature reaches up with his index finger and brushes a sopping strand of hair out of Y/N’s face, tucking it behind her ear and tracing down her cheekbone admiringly. After a few seconds of thought, he appraises her with a decision, licking across his top teeth and pressing his tongue along the inside of his cheek teasingly. “Let’s make a deal, then. How about you get yourself right on the edge for me, and then I’ll flip you around and finish you off. Sound fair?” 

Y/N doesn’t need to be told twice. She regains her previous stride with more fervor and speed, hellbent on pushing herself to the seam of climax so she can let Harry take the reins. The young man watches her with sinful intent tainting the emerald of his irises, the golden smudges around his pupils glinting blood red for a single heartbeat. He decides he’ll lend his expertise just once, extending his arm and fiddling with the settings on the control panel of the hot tub, preparing a surprise he knows his guest will thoroughly enjoy. 

When the jets suddenly rumble to life, Y/N’s jumps in shock, the loud sound startling her clouded brain. But then two concentrated streams of water hit her right between her legs and she nearly faints as newfound bliss erupts through every fiber of her being. The insistent spray toys with her clit in a fashion that is indescribable, revving her closer to release as the overwhelming sensation pairs with the rapture Harry’s cock is hammering into her. She won’t last long, and he knows it. 

The monster eyes her reaction attentively, his forefinger lulling upwards across the water-proof screen of the controls, raising the intensity of the jets. The fragmented moan that betrays the human goes right to his core. He then slides his finger back down, reducing the powerful force to softer bursts. Y/N whines in protest against his mouth, begging him to set it higher like before. And Harry does, giving her exactly what she craves with one easy swoop. Y/N’s forehead falls against his jaw, her shallow breaths puffing down his collarbones and heating his icy skin. 

“Shit, that’s so—so— fuck!” 

Harry continues to play with the settings, teasing her with waves of strong geysers and gentle trickles. Soon enough, he’s perched behind her, her back sticky against his wet chest as she holds herself up on her knees against the marble seat, hands clamped around the metal railing that runs the circumference of the pool. The pole helps her brace his unforgiving pace, her entire body jerking forward with every ram of his hips as small hiccups of pleasure float across the fogged air of the bathroom. Harry takes the shell of her ear between his teeth, biting down with no remorse as Y/N pushes back to meet his adamant thrusts, his coral-lacquered digits sifting between her own around the polished metal. She gets a bleary glimpse of the cross tattoo inked onto his hand as she can’t help but snort softly at the irony. 

“Is something funny, love?” Harry’s deep baritone causes chills to wring down her arms. 

“Your cross tattoo,” Y/N chokes out, a soft grunt interrupting her sentence as the head of the boy’s prick nudges the pit of her abdomen, “it’s just so ironic.” 

It is ironic. Harry had gotten it for that sole purpose— to mock the fact that he was deceased. He didn’t get to have a tombstone, so this is the next best thing: a symbolic one, of sorts, sketched into his skin for the rest of his undead life. A bit morbid, but he quite fancies dark humor, given what he is. 

However, he knows Y/N finds it ironic for much different, much unholier reasons. 

“You wanna know what’s really ironic?” Harry quips, bottoming out harshly and cooing into the back of her neck when the mortal’s shoulders give a spasm in response. His tone is a mocking whisper. “That such an innocent-looking thing like you loves the idea of being my shameless little whore.” 

Y/N’s cheeks boil at his explicit comment, a delicate whimper striking her vocal chords. One of Harry’s hands leaves its post on top of hers, tangling into her wet locks and giving her hair a ruthless yank. He guides her head into the nook between his shoulder and neck, spitting his next words out against the thundering pulse in her temple.

“You’re nothing but Daddy’s little filthy fucking slut. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

Y/N nods frantically in his authoritative grasp, struggling to swallow due to the combination of his unyielding tempo and erotic statements.  

Harry twists her hair around his knuckles, drawing a broken mewl from her raw lips as his teeth skim along the top of her cheekbone. “Words. Now.”

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Say it.”

“I’m...I’m your filthy little slut.” 

Harry scoffs in entertained disbelief at how willing she is to submit to him, pecking a kiss to the corner of her eye and tasting a salty tear across his tongue. He redirects her head forward, grinning into the side of her scalp. “You should see the way you smile when you say it.” 

Y/N can’t help it. It just feels so right with him— she feels oddly safe, knowing that what they share is something neither of them will ever give to anyone else. Their arrangement is one of a kind; they fit each other so flawlessly, nobody could ever possibly come close. And she doesn’t want anyone to try— doesn’t want anyone attempting to replace him. Harry just fills the gap perfectly, and she wouldn’t dream of letting another man do what he does to her. Not when she has Harry near, willing to mumble as many graphic promises into her ear as she wants, all while he fucks a sweltering throb into the area between her thighs.

The human girl finds herself wishing this could last an eternity. Little does she know that if it wasn’t for her mortal ignorance and Harry’s better judgement, it very well could. 

///

Later in the day, Harry vaguely recalls how the week prior he had made a passing joke to Y/N about how her sexual drive matches that of a rabbit. What happens in the evening makes him stand by that comment. 

They order in Chinese for dinner, and Y/N insists on eating out on the balcony, wanting to get a perfect view of the sun setting over the city skyline. She has never experienced the phenomenon from such a pristine view. 

Harry allows it, but only after parenting her into putting on a jacket to avoid catching a cold, sending her back into the condo in search of one as he sets out their meal atop the multicolored glass table outside. Humans are so sensitive, and the last thing he needs is his booty call nearly dying from a case of the sniffles.

She comes back out clad in his patchwork cardigan, wrapping it around her body snugly as she sits with her legs crossed on the patio chair, fitting her box of takeout into the hole created by her thighs. The fluffy knitwork had been the first coat she had found hanging in his humongous closet, and she’d thrown it on without a second thought, too caught up in the excitement of getting to see such a picturesque sight in real life. It’s warm and smells of Harry’s vanilla tobacco cologne, along with hints of other scents, like his chamomile and mandarin shampoo and spiced deodorant. She’d been more than happy to inhabit it.

Harry isn’t sure why, but seeing her sitting across from him on his balcony in a pair of his maroon plaid Calvin Klein boxers, his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt, and blanketed within his oversized rainbow cardigan, all while her hair falls across her face and tickles her jaw… It makes a fond smile buckle his cheeks, though he manages to tame it quickly. 

They chat casually as they eat, sharing silly stories and experiences as they pick at their stir-fry, taking periodic sips of the cranberry juice Harry keeps stocked in his fridge. He doesn’t know the science behind it— though he highly doubts there’s any valid scientific explanation behind the magic that runs through his supernatural veins— but he’s come to find that cranberries help curb his cravings. It’s why he always has a liter on hand. 

Y/N informs Harry on how her work week had gone, and about how one of her friends back home had gotten engaged recently. She says it all seems so surreal and that she doubts the girl will actually go through with it, which makes the monster burst into laughter, much to her confusion. Harry thinks that this is probably the first time he’s ever seen Y/N be so blatantly pessimistic; it’s strangely comical. Just hearing her opinion on the situation is enough to send anyone into a cackle fit, especially when she says it with such a straight face. “Yeah, I just don’t think she’ll do it. She says she loves him, but she always used to complain about his foot fetish, and I’m pretty sure she’d go insane if she had to put up with that for the rest of her life.” 

Harry wards off another bundle of giggles, pursing his twitching lips and bobbing his head once in understanding, using his chopsticks to pop a piece of fried duck into his mouth. “That’s a valid reason to abandon anyone at the altar, if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“I know, right? She told me he likes sucking whipped cream off her toes and, like, not to kinkshame, because I obviously have my own weird shit going on—”

“Yeah, I can attest to that.” Harry shrugs his eyebrows suggestively, picking a small chunk of broccoli off his utensil and smirking as he chews slowly. “Decently weird, actually.”

Y/N gifts him a deadpan expression, shoving a piece of veggie dumpling into her mouth and choosing to ignore his dig. “Anyways, I feel like that one is just on a whole other level. Like...what the fuck?”

Harry shares an anecdote about his own friends, as well, feeling that if he doesn’t open up at least a smidge, she'll start becoming suspicious. He recounts the time when he and Mitch had snuck into a Fleetwood Mac concert and met Stevie Nicks, though he’s careful enough not to tell her the date the event had occurred. He just lets her deduce it was one of their more recent tours, when in reality, it had been back in the eighties. The other detail Harry leaves off is the fact that he had tried to seduce Stevie, emphasis being on “tried.” It hadn’t stuck, unfortunately, and what had made the experience even more mortifying is that his idol had taken an interest in Mitch instead. Harry’s ego has yet to recover from that blow; first, because Mitch had the sheer gall to reject the celebrity on the grounds that he wasn’t looking to get involved in any public scandals, and secondly because his best friend refuses to ever let him live it down. “Hey, remember when we met Stevie Nicks and she wanted to fuck me instead of you? Good times, man.”

When the sun finally begins to dip over the horizon, their conversation dies off, replaced by the serene sounds of distant traffic and a light wind picking up as the temperature begins to drop for the night. Y/N stares at the sky in childish wonder as the bright blue starts to darken, streaking with mellow oranges, pastel purples, and buttery yellows, the colors painting across the clouds and giving the bustling city a timeless quality that can only be truly appreciated firsthand. A small, dreamy smile spreads across Y/N’s lips as the gorgeous canvas reflects off the glossy surface of her irises, her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms hugging her knees. She gazes wistfully over the place she has now grown to call home, taking in all it has to offer for the first time in two months, feeling oddly at ease despite the fact that she usually feels lonely wandering its streets. 

The mixture of drunken hues casts a hazy glow across her skin and hair, dim stars beginning to twinkle in space as the moon makes its debut. Y/N delights herself with watching the scene unfold, surveying the endless stretch of sky and soaking in its natural beauty. And as Y/N stares across Los Angeles during one of its most breath-taking moments, Harry finds himself staring at her instead. 

Once darkness has soaked across the skyscrapers and roads of California for the night, Y/N and Harry turn in, as well. They end up splayed across Harry’s leather couch, entertaining a new episode of Sugar Rush on the ninety-inch flat screen mounted on his glass wall; it’s simply in order to take up the last couple of hours left before bed. By some inexplicable miracle, the vampire had managed to actually fall asleep last night after he and his visitor had finished their regularly scheduled activities. He doubts he’ll be that lucky tonight, but he has no choice but to play the part for the sake of keeping up appearances. 

Maybe if the universe is feeling exceptionally generous, the human will fall asleep while they’re watching TV and Harry can just carry her up to his room without having to put on an act. It’s a favorable alternative to having to fake sleep until she gives into fatigue; lying awake with his eyes closed for an hour would make him feel as stupid as Niall’s golfing addiction. 

However, it appears that for the time being, Y/N has other plans to bring forward some tried and true exhaustion.

There’s nothing particularly sexual about the fashion in which their bodies are pressed together at the moment, given that it’s a pretty innocent snuggling position. Harry is slumped against the backrest of the sofa with his feet propped on his coffee table, comfy in a pair of black jogging shorts and a vintage Rolling Stones tee. Y/N is nestled into his torso beside him, her head burrowed into his chest with his arm slung nonchalantly across her shoulders and down her back, legs intertwined with his. She had done it out of instinct and Harry doesn’t really have an issue with the gesture; she’s warm and soft and the soothing action of her socked foot running up and down his calf helps him unwind from the day’s events. He likes this, he decides. She smells like him— with her usual scent of honey and lavender permeating through— and she’s decked out in his clothes, aimlessly doodling figures onto his tummy as they enjoy the baking show in comfortable silence. It’s strangely mellow. 

Y/N is the one who instigates, as usual. Humans are so horny, it’s ridiculous. But he benefits from this specific mortal’s libido, so he’s not complaining. 

It starts with her drifting upwards from where she’d been tracing over his butterfly tattoo, her warm fingers stroking over the prominent structure of his clavicle, her eyes flickering up to gauge his reaction. Harry doesn’t move an inch, face maintaining a curtain of calm indifference. He figures she’s just extra touchy, as she normally is. Then the pads of her digits skim across the side of his throat and an impulsive flare of panic pricks the back of his skull, but it quickly dissolves, as it tends to do now around her. She’s the only person in the last two centuries who has managed to touch him there without inciting a rampage. 

Y/N coasts across the nape of his neck, twirling a baby curl around her forefinger distractedly, giving it a small tug in the manner she knows he likes. Harry’s body tightens for a split second and she bites into her lower lip to muffle a mischievous grin. She stretches up, dusting a lingering peck to the curve right behind his ear, running her nose across the shell tenderly. The vampire shifts slightly in his seat, the feathery sensation beginning to weigh at the pit of his stomach. She’s teasing him, and it’s working. 

The mortal flushes her puckered mouth fully to the side of his jugular, rubbing the ridges of her skin over one of the veins chiseling into existence, right over the area where a heartbeat used to lie. Harry’s hand balls into a fist against the dip of her spine, itching to grip onto something to keep his cool. Preferably, her throat. 

When Y/N finally speaks, the hot breath of her words makes his cock twitch against his thigh. “Wanna kiss a bit?” 

Harry cranes his head to look at her, eyebrows jumping up in amusement. “You wanna make-out? What are we, fourteen?”

The girl gives him an impassive pout and glances indicatively towards the armrest of the couch, where they had sat the evening prior while admiring his art wall. “You didn’t have a problem with it last night.” 

Harry presses his lips together into a playful simper. She makes a valid point. “Well, I was horny last night. Wasn’t in my right mind.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes at his juvenile answer.

“And you’re not now?” She prods softly, her gaze slinking down to his spread thighs, almost as if to check if he’s hard. Harry snorts as her action and she bats her lashes up at him with fake innocence, muscling down the sly smirk threatening to emerge across her face. 

“Not really, but maybe I could be…” The creature glimpses at her colored mouth for a heartbeat, reaching a hand up and pushing his air-dried ringlets back from his forehead, lips twitching coyly. “Persuaded.”

Y/N leans forward, buttoning their mouths for a fleeting moment. She pulls back a tad, ghosting the crescent of her top lip over his to try and compel him. “Please?” 

“Mm,” Harry licks at the corner of his mouth, eyes half-lidded tauntingly, “I don’t think that was enough. Show some team spirit, will you?”

The girl gifts him another kiss, this one longer and more intense, a palm making its way to cup his jaw. “Please, H?” 

He’s begun to pant lightly, hand flattening across the small of her back as if to guide her somewhere. He blinks down at her smugly, gnawing into his cheek. “You’re not quite there. Maybe a little more.” 

It turns out one more kiss is enough to convince his metaphorical meter. Y/N ends up perched in his lap, both of his large hands groping at her ass as she clutches the back of his neck, their lips sewn together in a filthy kiss full of gentle whines and impatient tongues. It’s going pretty great, and Harry thinks that Y/N is probably one of the most fun people he’s ever had the pleasure of kissing. Her mouth is as sweet as the sugary scent she always dotes, she ebbs and flows to his movements seamlessly, and the enthusiasm she carries makes every nerve in his body fizzle. The noises she makes are incredibly satisfying, as well. All her needy mewls and delicate whimpers string right down to his groin. 

After a few minutes of dry humping and jesting bites placed on overzealous lips, Harry boosts himself up from his relaxed position, feet knocking off the coffee table as an arm snakes around her hips. He sits forward, extending his free hand and waving it around blindly, too occupied to willingly break their embrace. He refuses to pull away, especially when she’s gluing such dirty moans to the roof of his mouth. His palm swings across the air stubbornly until it finally slaps down against the marble surface he’d been searching for, his grip tightening around its rim for confirmation. He proceeds to scoot the counter forward, intent on laying Y/N out on top so he can get on his knees against his furry carpet, get his boxers down her velvety legs, and get his head bobbing between her quivering thighs. 

Harry’s plan is about to pan out ideally until a high-pitched shriek cuts through the tense ambiance of the room. 

Y/N cracks their kiss, gasping and heaving as her head whizzes from side to side, looking for the origin of the annoying trill that had interrupted their playtime. “What—What is that?”

The vampire glances over his back towards where the ruckus is stemming, the insistent chime grating his heightened ears. He spots the culprit immediately, releasing an irritated groan as a result: his phone. 

From his spot on the edge of the couch, Mitch’s contact picture blazes across the screen. Harry loves that photo of his best friend— the way his emotionless expression and skinny middle finger are directed towards the camera makes it a wonderful shot— but he really wishes he didn’t have to see it right now. He has other more pressing matters. Literal pressing matters, if the tent in his mesh shorts is any indication. 

“Just ignore it.” Harry murmurs, turning back to slam their lips together once again. Y/N obliges without a second thought, happily re-engaging her previous activity of smudging her cupid’s bow across her friend’s as he stretches her out across the table 

Ignoring it works the first time. And the second. But by the third call, Harry has no choice but to break away with an exasperated grunt, his brittle patience forcing him to handle the blaring ringtone. 

He slides his thumb across the screen roughly, bringing it to his ear as he slumps back into the couch cushions, holding up a finger towards Y/N apologetically and mouthing a quick, “It’ll be just a second.”

His guest nods in understanding, letting her head fall back against the cold marble and distracting herself by counting all of the lightbulbs situated at the peaks of the chandeliers above. 

Harry turns his focus to the person on the other end of the phone line, voice snipped with aggravated anger. “What?!”

“Whoa, okay… That’s no way to talk to the elderly. Take it down a notch, Grumpy. Didn’t Snow White teach you any manners?”

The monster takes a deep breath to keep his rage in check, gritting out his words through bared teeth. “I’m fucking busy right now. What do you want?”

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry to be a bother, My Lord. I just wanted to check up on you and make sure you have all your stuff packed for tomorrow. Y’know, like the good friend I am.”

Harry blinks blankly, all indignation flooding out of his system, replaced by utter confusion. “You wanted to check if I’m...? For what? Why would I need to pack?”

There’s a pause on Mitch’s end, as if the man is waiting for Harry to come to the conclusion himself, static filling the speaker. When it’s obvious the younger vampire is clueless, his best friend elaborates slowly. “For the trip. The Vegas trip. The one we take every year around the same time. The one that we all agreed we’d roadtrip in your car tomorrow.”

Harry’s eyes widen in realization, his entire face paling. Fuck.

“The trip.” He mumbles, the fingers of his free hand coming up to rub at his temples worriedly as his mistake dawns on him. “God, I completely forgot about it.” 

“You can’t be serious.” Mitch deadpans, a long sigh following his comment. “Harry, you’re the one that booked the hotel this time. How could you possibly forget?”

“I…” Harry glances over at Y/N as guilt weighs into his demeanor. The girl meets his gaze, smiling sweetly and waving, completely unaware of the horrific ordeal he’s gotten himself into by inviting her over. “I got caught up with something.” 

A humorless snort crackles through the stereo of his phone, Mitch’s voice tinged with irked disbelief. “Yeah, that’s what you’ve been saying for the last four weeks now every time you bail on us. I just figured you’d get your head out of your ass for this one, but I suppose I spoke too soon.”

Harry drags his palm down his face, gripping his chin in thought. “I’m sorry. Genuinely. I didn’t mean to let it slip, I’ve just been so occupied during the last couple of weekends that—”

“That you forgot about our yearly trip. How nice. Just perfect.”

“Mitch, I know I fucked up, alright? But what if—”

The immortal’s solution gets cut short when out of his peripheral vision, he sees Y/N climb off the coffee table and onto the carpet below. Harry’s words lodge in his throat as he watches the girl crawl on all fours across the ground towards him, a cheeky smile ticking the corners of her lips as her irises glimmer schemingly. Shit.

“‘What if’ what?”

“What if...Uhm…” Harry finds himself struggling to keep his end of the conversation going, the reason being that Y/N has now reached the edge of the sofa where he resides. She sits back onto her heels, walking her fingers teasingly across his knees and grasping them with her palms, parting them open widely. “I…”

“For fuck’s sake, H, what are you trying to say?” Mitch snaps; even through the distance, he can feel its bite. 

Y/N nuzzles herself between Harry’s opened legs, a hand riding up one of his thick thigh as she sponges wet kisses to his kneecap, grinning into his skin when her fingers duck under the material of his shorts. His cadence comes out strained with the effort of keeping up an unfazed front. “What if I— what if we switch the reservations?” 

“How do you mean?”

The human’s fingers travel up the length of his inner thigh, sneaking below his cotton briefs and giving the tip of his semi-hard cock a gentle caress. Harry writhes in his seat, watching with bated breath as Y/N draws her forearm back out from beneath his clothes, her middle finger covered in a bead of precum— a result of all the grinding they’d done while kissing. She locks eyes with him and pushes the digit past her swollen lips, sucking off the small droplet while her lashes flutter in pleasure. She moans softly, his familiar saltiness always so welcomed. Her next whisper is sultry and needy. “You taste so fucking good.” 

Harry swallows down a groan and his voice suffers the consequences, coming out shaky and high. “Like...Like what if we switch out the n-names. I could call the hotel and put the rooms under your info instead.”

Mitch is quiet for a second, mulling over his friend’s offer. The instance is long enough for Harry to reach forward and snatch Y/N’s wrist, giving it a dominant squeeze as a scolding grimace dips the ends of his lips and furrows his brows. He mouths his words slowly with an ominous hue, making sure she interprets the message. “That’s enough.”

Y/N twists herself free of his hold, eyes gleaming in challenge. She talks softly as to not be heard through the phone, but she might as well be screaming thanks to Harry’s supernatural hearing abilities. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you really not going, then?”

The gentle tone of Mitch’s question snaps Harry back into reality. He feels bad for flaking on his crew, but he doesn’t really have a choice at this point. Y/N is already here per his request, and kicking her out would be extremely dickish, even by his standards. “I’m booked the rest of the weekend, mate. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Y/N proceeds to grab onto the elastic band of Harry’s shorts, pulling the front down to expose the clothed bulge that lies beneath. A soiled patch has formed over the material of his underwear, and he can see her irises twinkle in satisfaction, which causes the faint burning in his veins to intensify. The girl palms him through the fabric, preening at the low, tight grunt that escapes Harry’s flexing throat. A shiver pin-balls down his spine and he tries to grab at her forearm to wrench it away from between his legs, but Y/N is determined to work him into a mess, simply groping him more intently and giggling lightly when his hips thrash in response. 

“Alright, I guess that settles it. I’ll just tell the group we’re taking Niall’s car instead, and that Adam and I will take turns driving. Just get the lodging handled, will you?”

“‘Course, I got it, don’t worry.” Harry chokes out, reaching a hand towards Y/N’s hair in a desperate attempt to get a hold of her, but she ducks to evade him. She tugs down his final layer of protection, her mouth immediately finding its way to his large cock and giving it one long lap from base to tip, staring up at him mockingly from beneath heavy lashes. She grasps it in both of her palms, gifting it a few quick pumps and spitting over the head sloppily, rubbing the slit across her bottom lip as she quirks her brows at him in a dare. 

The vampire fails to ward off the fracture in his composure this time. “Christ, you’re such a fucking sl—” 

He stops himself before he finishes the graphic statement, remembering that everything he says is being directly broadcast to someone else on the other end of his phone. Someone who’s oblivious to the filth currently taking place on Harry’s side of the call. “I’m on it, yeah? I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Wait.”

Harry is at the verge of tearing his hair out, his tone teetering at the cusp of sanity. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind telling me why you’re not going? I feel like everyone at least deserves an explanation, especially since you’re dipping on the plans literally the day before.”

The young man quickly clears his throat, forcing himself to keep control as he watches the mortal stick her entire tongue out to run his cock up and down its expanse. “I’ll—I’ll explain when you come back.” 

The textured surface sends zaps of lightning surging through every crevice of Harry’s body, but he somehow enables restraint, as weak as it may be. He silently warns Y/N once again about her actions, carding his fingers into her hair and digging the pads into her scalp. “Stop.”

“Also, why are you breathing so hard? What are you even up to right now?”

The human ignores his command, blowing over the leaking hole of his prick and giving it a playful kiss.

“I’m— fuck— I’m...I’m on the treadmill.”

Mitch goes quiet for a heartbeat. “You don’t have a treadmill.” 

Y/N tosses her hair over her shoulder, leaning down to rest her cheek along Harry’s inner thigh, giving him the perfect angle to view what she’s about to do. She presses her head forward, slipping his entire cock down her throat and gagging when it hits a sensitive spot in the back, her nails raking down his twitching tummy. She keeps him there for an elongated moment, allowing her walls to tighten around his length just how he likes it, toying with his swollen balls and moaning quietly around his prick. He can feel the vibrations burrow into the marrow of his bones.

“I told you to stop.” He doesn’t even bother mouthing his words this time, mood dark and cautious. He can hear Mitch exclaim in confusion through his speaker, but it’s the last thing on his mind right now. 

Y/N’s watery eyes dance with a devious gleam as she grins around his girth, removing him just enough so she can breath properly, rubbing his bubbling tip along the inside of her silky cheek. Her phrase is muffled, but it’s clear enough to completely shatter him. “Make me, Daddy.”

Harry’s features harden. He’s done playing games. 

He directs his attention to the microphone, voice calm and collected to the point where it’s frightening, all the tension and instability crumbling to ash. His brows crease dangerously, accent thicker than she’s ever heard it. “I have to go.”

“Harry���”

“I’ll text you after I fix the booking.” 

The device beeps and the call ends, the phone falling face-down onto the couch.

The vampire roughly jerks Y/N back by her hair, sitting forward until their noses brush, his cold touch sending a prickling across her cheeks and ears. He addresses her with the same type of undisturbed patience he’d shown his friend, aura teeming with quiet power.

“Get up. Now.” 

Y/N ends up with her back pressed into the couch cushions, Harry suspended above her with his knees on either sides of her hips, his cock ramming down her throat harshly as he guides her head with his knuckles twisted into her roots. He’s thrusting forward to meet her mouth, the emerald around his pupils electric with a type of carnal dominance that makes heat pour into her belly. She’s gazing up at him with water streaming freely out of her eyes and spit dripping down her chin, her hands fisting at the leather of the sofa as he fucks her face unrelentingly. 

“You think that little stunt was cute? You think teasing me like that was fun?” He growls as he peers down at her, ramming past her raw lips with no remorse, swimming in the damp choking sounds that bounce back from the furniture in the room. “Open wider. Wider.”

She obeys. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To have me down your throat while you gag around it until you can barely breath? To choke on it while you take that heavy load and swallow every drop?”

Y/N bobs her head feverishly, unable to form any coherent sentences due to his violent pace. 

The grip Harry has on the crown of her head tightens, his other hand cupping the back of her skull to push her deeper down his shaft, her nose smearing over his happy trail as his heavy balls bump against her slobbery chin. “Take that fucking cock, then. Take every inch like the filthy fucking brat you are.”

Y/N’s blurry eyes lull shut, the edges of her stinging mouth curving upwards as he hits every single one of her desires with a skill only he possesses. She doesn’t know why— or if it’s even healthy, at this point— but she’s never felt more pleasure than when she’s at Harry’s disposal. She just loves seeing him come undone for her. 

“God, you like that, don’t you? Like being my little plaything?” The grin dimpling Harry’s cheeks is so utterly erotic and sinful, Y/N feels like she’s damning her soul just by glimpsing at it. He delicately thumbs tears off her cheekbones, contradicting his other much less tame motions. “Baby just wants to feel Daddy cum down her throat, doesn’t she?”

Stars begin spotting the girl’s vision, her mind vignetting as a fulfilling ache settles into her jugular. She nods her head drunkenly, coughing dryly as her lungs rattle with shallow inhales. 

Harry gives an exceptionally hard stroke, holding her in place and feeling her constrict around him, her nails digging into the aged leather of his sofa. He takes a pause, broad chest heaving as his head falls back to hang between his shoulder blades, the golden light of his chandeliers reflecting off the red shade inking his irises. His climax begins to tip into his blood. “Say it. Be a good girl and say, ‘please cum for me, Daddy.’”

Y/N’s voice floats out raspy and trembling as she ogles up at the monster wishfully, her ability to speak absolutely frayed from the exertion she’s been put through. Her sentence is barely comprehensible given her full mouth, but watching her try is what gets Harry off. “P-Please cum for me, Daddy.”

Thick ribbons of warmth suddenly erupt down her throat, coaxing a series of garbled moans to pour from Harry’s chest. His whole body tightens as an orgasm floods his system, the muscles of his back drawing taut, his defined biceps jolting, and his lean abdomen clenching in ecstasy. His fern tattoos ripple over his tanned skin as he gives a few more deep strokes for good measure, milking himself to completion and drinking up the tiny noises of sensitivity Y/N makes. He finishes dishing the punishment she’d earned, delivering burst after burst of cum just as he’d promised, feeling her flex around his slick cock as she eagerly swallows every spurt. 

“Every last bit, baby. All of it. Christ, that’s my fucking girl. ”

The boy cranes his neck forward again, taking in her disheveled appearance and humming in needy appreciation. Her hair is a disaster from all of his tugging, her eyes are puffy and red, and her lips are flushed and plump. There’s trails of dried tears tracing her cheeks and across her jaw, the collar of her borrowed shirt is soggy with spit, and he can just barely make out the damp patch she’s stained into his boxers along the insides of her thighs. She’s fiddling with her fingers across her lap, continuously shifting around in her seat and clamping her legs together, and Harry comes to the realization that she’s trying to ride the seam of his briefs in order to get a spoonful of relief. 

In his sexually demented opinion, she’s looks like a proper angel.

Harry gradually withdraws himself from her mouth, watching with empty content as she sputters into a coughing fit and gulps down air as if she hasn’t had it for weeks. She wipes at the lower half of her face messily with the back of her hand, staring up at him all moony and soft, feeling her cheeks boil at his conceited simper. The vampire carefully tucks his drenched prick back into his clothes, crouching down to her level and lilting his head to the side, tucking a strand of tangled hair behind her heated ear. The pads of his digits streak down the front of her neck and perch at the hollow between her collarbones, her pulse thundering beneath her sweaty flesh. He taps at the center of her throat for significance, tone fond and almost caring. “Is it sore?”

Y/N struggles to get saliva down, rattling her head in agreement since her vocal chords are refusing to work. 

Harry folds the hem of his tee over his fingers, reaching forward to help clean up anything leftover across her chin and jaw. Y/N eyes him with a form of detached admiration, enamored with the way he tends to her so gently now that the session has come to a close. 

“You like it, though, right?” 

The young woman doesn’t even try to mask the fact that she indeed does, nodding her head once again. 

“That’s good to hear, pet.” Harry drops his shirt back over his belly, giving her a chaste peck to the nose. Despite the ever-present coldness of his touch, the action sparks a warm glow that surges from the tips of her ears to the heels of her feet. “Want to make sure I wasn’t being too rough.” 

He stands up onto his knees, dismounting the sofa and combing a few rouge curls out of his eyes, nudging at her socked foot jestingly with his. Y/N kicks him in return as she busies herself with combing out the knots from her mussed locks, attempting to distract herself from the gnawing running along the inside of her stomach. She needs to get it sedated, but she’s too timid to ask the vampire outright, which she knows is ironic given what they’d just done. 

Harry sits down along the marble counter of the coffee table with his forearms propped along his knees, toying with his lionhead daylight ring (it’s the only one he wears at home, out of necessity) as he watches her tend to the mess he’d created. He smiles to himself in satisfied amusement— she always looks so pretty freshly face-fucked. 

The monster then notices how the human is still rubbing her thighs together, reminding him that she had been left unattended. He decides that he should do what any gentleman would and provide assistance to the issue; it’s only fair, according to the unspoken laws of their little mutual arrangement. He hooks his fingers along the rim of the table beneath him, dragging it forward until his knees meet the edge of the couch, knocking hers open slightly. He leans back onto his palms as she gives him a curious glance, the olive tone around his pupils glittering with hunger while his fingers tap knowingly along the surface below. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Harry’s eyebrows kink upward. “Can’t a man look in his own home?”

“Of course he can, but just not at me. Staring’s rude. Especially when I’m covered in spit and bodily fluids.”

The boy gives an exaggerated pout, pairing it with a set of puppy dog eyes and a honeyed drawl. “But you look so cute covered in my bodily fluids.”

Y/N stares at him flatly. “Wow. I’m so flattered. I’ll file that compliment right under the one where you said I look adorable with jizz all over my eyelashes.” 

“Well, you do! And that was a great compliment, if you think about it. It’s unique and creative— very avant-garde of me.”

“You need brain cells in order to be avant-garde.”

“Just shut up and get on your hands and knees.” 

///

Harry drinks from Y/N that night. 

He knows Mitch would scold him for it, considering the quota for draft beverages from mortal taps is strictly once a week, per his orders. But the creature just can’t help himself. She smells so sweet, and her neck looks so tempting when her head is turned to the side in sleep; even in the dark, he can see her veins pumping beneath the taut skin. He justifies it by telling himself that any vampire would give into weakness if they were in his place, and it’s not like he’s some uncultured, unhinged newborn who lacks basic control. He’s spent decades refining his impulses and taming his animalistic instincts to the point where he can walk through a butcher shop and not even bat an eye. He’s more than capable of double-dipping without threatening her life. 

However, Harry will admit that he does make some embarrassing sounds while he’s fang-deep in her carotid artery. He can’t be expected to withhold them, especially not with how good she tastes. Y/N’s blood reminds him of so many things that he can’t ever quite place its flavor. Sometimes it reminds him of green grapes and champagne, and others it dawns on him in the form of peaches and cream. There’s instances where she doesn’t even fall into the usual spectrum of taste, but rather reminds him of sensations instead of tangible objects. Sometimes she tastes the way the first breath of spring feels— light and soothing, with hints of fresh florals and dewy mornings. Other times, she tastes like strawberries on a summer evening— warm, tangy, and nostalgic. At the risk of sounding like a brain-dead junky, drinking from Y/N is a magical experience that he wishes could last forever; Harry has never found it more difficult to pull back from someone’s throat than when he has to recede from hers. 

After the immortal has had his fill, he pricks his finger along one of his fangs and smears a drop of his blood onto Y/N’s tongue, watching the two gaping holes on her neck heal instantaneously and leave behind a faint bruise that will likely be gone by morning. He spends the rest of the night twirling stands of her hair around his fingers and counting her heartbeats, vaguely wondering what it feels like to have one. It’s been so long since he’s carried a pulse, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have it thumping in his chest. All he has left is a phantom organ and not a day goes by where he doesn’t miss its steady rhythm. 

The second the first beam of sunlight filters in through the crack in Harry’s window shades, he’s up on his feet pacing around the kitchen, going through his daily morning routine of preparing breakfast with a lively soundtrack to keep him company. That is, until his actual companion awakens; then he happily replaces his playlist with her groggy voice and tired eyes. 

Harry has chosen to prepare parfaits as their first meal of the day, scooping vanilla yogurt into two marbled bowls and setting out an abundant array of toppings, smiling to himself at the way Y/N’s eyes light up the room. She fills her platter to the brim with blueberries, chunks of banana, diced peaches, and crushed walnuts, while Harry loads his with tons of raspberries, slices of mango, scoops of granola, and plenty of honey. He runs into some trouble halfway through squeezing out the last ingredient, proceeding to shake it vigorously to try and get rid of the clump blocking the spout. The bottle refuses to cooperate and Harry turns it towards his face to get a better look at the problem, winking one eye shut to focus better on the cap. He gives it another testing squeeze and much to his luck, the jammed portion squirts loose and he ends up with syrup dripping down his face. 

Y/N doesn’t even attempt to stifle her amusement, nearly choking on a spoonful of yogurt as laughter takes over her entire body. The vampire stands rigidly beside her, glaring at the teddy bear-shaped container with so much hatred, she thinks it might melt. When the human finally manages to tame her giggles, she reaches up and uses her index finger to collect honey right off Harry’s cheek, sticking the digit into her mouth and sucking it off with a loud pop. 

Her friend gives her a deadpan scowl, to which she simply shrugs her brows playfully while gifting him a bright grin. “Now you know what it feels to have a sticky liquid shot into your eye. Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

“Fuck off.” 

“You look pretty, though. Does that make it better?”

“I will literally pour my yogurt onto your hair.”

“Karma’s a bitch, Winnie the Pooh.”

Harry ends up having to shower in order to successfully get rid of the gooey substance, though it’s hardly a hassle given that Y/N gladly joins him. It doesn’t turn too sexual, surprisingly enough. 

The duo stand under the shower panel covered in suds, steam floating around their naked bodies as water pelts down on top of them, matting hair to their necks and jaws. Harry doesn’t know why, but he likes the fact that they’re now comfortable enough to be nude around each other outside of their usual dynamic. It’s fulfilling, for some odd reason. 

The girl helps the creature scrub off the honey with some facial cleanser, rubbing at his flushed cheeks with her thumbs and fighting off an endeared giggle when he scrunches his nose in annoyance. His voice comes out as a childish whine. “That hurts.”

“Stop being such a baby.” She huffs, going in along his cheekbones and rolling her eyes when he grumbles. “Lean down.” 

Harry abides, ducking down so she can get a better angle, casually coasting his hands onto her hips to keep her from losing her footing to the slippery floor. Y/N leans forward onto the tips of her toes, squinting at him through the foggy air as she continues to wash off the syrup, wanting to make sure she isn’t missing a single spot. Harry watches her quietly with his sopping curls sticking to his forehead and along the nape of his neck, lips twitching fondly at how hellbent she is on getting the mess off. Her brows are creased in concentration and her tongue is peeking out of her mouth; he has to restrain the impulse to surge forward and kiss her. 

Once Y/N is satisfied with her work, she falls back onto her heels, washing any remnants away under the stream and pushing her drenched strands out of her face. “All done. Try not to do it again.” 

“I make no promises.” Harry tuts as he joins her beneath the water, bare chest a mere inch from hers as he quirks his brows coyly. “It got you naked, so I’ll probably do it again.”

“I won’t help next time.” 

“Then I’ll just rub my face against yours and get it all over you. Won’t have much of a choice, then.” 

“You’re a literal child.”

Y/N grabs the bottle of chamomile shampoo from the shelf carved into the polished stone wall of the shower, uncapping it and pouring a glob into the palm of her hand. She sets the container back down and beckons Harry forward with the forefinger of her free hand. The vampire drifts towards her once again and wraps his arms across the dip of her back, lightly swaying her from side to side as she begins working the shampoo into his roots, the pads of her fingers massaging his scalp in slow circles. The groan that betrays him is pitiful. 

Y/N pretends not to hear it, continuing to work a lather into his curls as the boy trails his fingers up and down the center of her spine, the feathery sensation causing her to shiver despite the hot temperature of the water. Harry leans down to nestle his face into the crook of his friend’s neck, laying his head along her shoulder and cradling her to his body as she combs her fingers through his locks. He can’t remember the last time he took a shower with someone just for the sake of it, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in each other’s presence. It’s nice. 

Harry begins sponging his lips across the curve of Y/N’s throat, feeling her tense momentarily before relaxing back into his grasp, the pads of her digits scratching at his scalp. 

“God, that feels so good.” Harry mumbles, tone so garbled in bliss, it’s barely understandable. 

The mortal slowly coaxes him back under the direct line of the shower, thoroughly rinsing the bubbles out of his hair and making sure to carefully wash any leftover shampoo out of his lashes. She then ties her arms around his broad shoulders, gently running her nails up and down the expanse of his muscular back, feeling the tendons unknot under her guidance. Y/N cranes her head to the side and flushes her lips to Harry’s temple, the pattering of the water camouflaging the fact that the area lacks a pulse. She sighs softly in innocent pleasure, the warm air sending a delightful bristling down the young man’s neck and drawing another drunken whimper from his lungs. This all feels therapeutic, almost. Neither had realized how much they missed domesticity until now. 

The human suddenly snorts humorously, talking against Harry’s waxy skin. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to make a move yet.” 

Harry rattles his head sleepily, the ridges of his mouth tickling her jugular as he does so. His voice is distant and tender, but his words send a pang of electricity to her core. “I’ll fuck you afterwards. Just wanna enjoy this right now.” 

Y/N lets her eyes lull shut, allowing the sheets of hot water to numb her mind the same way it had his, a certain type of mellowness soaking into her bones. Her tone comes out as soothed and detached as her lover’s, all her attention funneled into how incredible his hard body feels pressed to hers in such an intimate fashion, his strong arms clinging to her like a lifeline. “I’m not complaining.”

Even in his distracted state, Harry still somehow manages to wriggle in a smug quip. “Of course you’re not. I give you nothing to complain about.”

“Dickhead.”

Y/N gives his ringlets a spiteful tug, which he responds to with an airy chuckle and a cheeky smack across her ass. The girl jumps slightly with a small gasp and a handful of select curses, which only causes him to cackle even further. “You love that shit, don’t you?”

“Go back to keeping your mouth shut.” 

“Mm. S’what I thought.” 

Harry keeps his sensual promise, as he always does. 

As soon as they exit the shower, he immediately wanders into the bedroom, the only towel in his possession being the one he’s using to shake out his damp curls. Y/N dries off her body patiently as she stands in front of the clouded mirror, rubbing the linen over her softened skin. She handles her hair second, patting and scrunching the water out as she thinks on what Harry could possibly be doing that is taking him so long. She doubts he’s getting dressed, if his earlier intentions are any indication, and he seemed like he had a plan in motion when he’d walked out, so there must be a method to his prolonged absence. 

When the monster pads back into the bathroom, he is just as bare as when he’d left, the towel he’d used on his locks crumpled in his large hands. He chucks it into the linen hamper beside the jacuzzi, sauntering up behind Y/N and she has to force herself not to use the mirror to ogle below his waist. She folds her towel neatly onto the counter, reaching forward and wiping the last bit of condensation off the glass so she can get a proper view of Harry’s face. Maybe it’ll help her deduce what he’s plotting. 

The boy presses up against her backside, pushing her forward until her hips are wedged between his torso and the edge of the bathroom counter, moving all her stringy hair onto one shoulder with the back of his hand. Harry locks eyes with her through the mirror, speckling a few sloppy kisses along the back of her neck and grinning into her flesh when a shiver coils down her spine. He looks so fucking good with his damp ringlets glued along his sharp jaw, his jade eyes glossy with lascivious intentions, and his cheeks and chest still colored from the hot water, tattoos looking as alluring as ever. He nuzzles the tip of his nose across the shell of her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging teasingly, the warm air of his low, dominant tone causing her flinch in anticipation. 

“Arms behind your back.” 

Y/N obeys without a hitch, bringing her hands together atop the alcove at the bottom of her spine. She feels the unmistakable sensation of cold metal looping around her wrists, tightening with soft clicks and pinching at her skin. The cuffs sift into the designated setting and Harry gives them a quick yank to check for security, tying the excess chain link around his knuckles and pulling down harshly. Y/N’s body contorts to his influence, her arms straightening out as her back arches, chest swelling forward while her hips remain perched to the tabletop, held in place by his own. She can feel the head of his cock dab against the back of her thighs, his irises darkening as he surveys her bust with a type of barely-contained desire that sends heat flooding into her abdomen. 

Harry ducks his head further down to glue more kisses along the slope of her shoulder, nipping periodically and leaving behind a neat row of love bites that he’ll admire in detail later. The words he murmurs against her skin deliver a sweltering simmer in their wake. “Do you want it rough?” 

Y/N swallows thickly, nodding her head several times and whispering a bashful, “Yes.” 

“‘Yes’ what?”

The human licks at her lips tentatively, squeaking a tad when gives the metal hoops an expectant tug, urging a reply. “Yes, sir.” 

Harry’s lashes flutter shut for a second, the corners of his lips twitching in arrogant satisfaction. “You’ve got the filthiest tongue, but you know how to make it say the sweetest things, don’t you, baby?”

“Only for you.”  

“No one else?”

“No one else.”

The vampire’s eyes open slowly, head tilting to the side to assess her with sly amusement. “You wanna know how I can tell that’s the truth?” 

Y/N’s joints are starting to ache due to the position he’s fixed her in, but she doesn’t mind the burn. It feeds into the appeal. “H-How?”

Harry leans forward, brushing his wet lips up her jaw, the tip of his cock spreading her open just a smidge. “Because every time I fuck you, you’re always so bloody tight. Means I’m the only one stretching out that snug little cunt.”

A broken whine escapes Y/N’s sore throat— courtesy of what had occurred the night prior— and she squirms in the brunette’s grip, trying to shimmy her way further down his length. She’s anxious to feel him fill her. “Deeper.” 

“Pardon?”

“Go deeper. Want it all.” 

Harry raises an eyebrow in impressed curiosity. “You want it all in one go? Don’t want me to prep you first?” 

She shakes her head stubbornly, pushing back against him and succeeding in sinking an inch or so. Harry’s entire face hardens as she clenches around the head of his prick, attempting to ride down further to sedate her desperate need. He twists his fist tighter around the chain, his other hand coming up to grip her throat, forearm pressed between her breasts as he gets a decent hold to prepare for what’s to come.  

“If it gets to be too much,” Harry dabs a gentle kiss onto her cheek; it’s to communicate the importance of the message amidst the tense atmosphere, “you know to tell me, right?” 

“Mmhm.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Always.”

Y/N nearly passes out. Even though she’s grown accustomed to Harry’s size and girth, it somehow never fails to shock her into a state of unexpected rapture. He just fits so well inside her— hits every nook and crevice like he was meant to touch every single one. That, combined with his unrelinquishing thrusts and sinful dirty talk...It’s enough to render anyone helpless. It’s certainly enough to have her shaking and screaming against his chest, and it’s definitely more than enough to drive her towards an orgasm that she knows will blow out her legs for at least the rest of the day. 

Harry fucks into her just how she’d requested— rough and vehement. He presses her bare back to his chest by using the hold he has around her throat, her head falling backwards onto his shoulder as he pounds into her belly from behind. His other hand is braided into the chain between the cuffs, controlling how her body seizes up and gives way. She’s standing on the tips of her toes, legs spread open as much as her weak knees will support, scraggly breaths stuttering from her nose and mouth as shattered noises of ecstasy decorate the space the fading steam has left behind. Her hips are ramming forward against the rim of the counter, the marble knocking against her pubic bone to the point where she knows bruises will develop later on. She doesn’t mind it; she loves seeing the memories Harry brands onto her, whether that be in the form of hickies across her thighs, fingerprints over her waist, or his rings fanned out across the swell of her ass. She’ll take anything he’s willing to give. 

The vampire is dismantling just as quickly as she is, obvious in the fractured growls and soft grunts he’s puffing against the side of her face. His pink-polished nails dig into her jugular, fingers twitching as her heartbeat hammers against his palm, sending vibration down his whole nervous system. His cock is slicking into her easily and it’s obvious the anticipation of what he had said during their bath had gotten to her; he can feel how wet she is with every stroke. It’s dripping down her quivering thighs and smearing all over his tiger head tattoo, damp slaps resonating from where her backside hits against his tinted pelvis. 

Harry stares down hazily at where he’s spreading her open, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as tiny mewls itch along the back of his raw throat, her own sounds playing across his ears with each buck of his thighs. They float through the heavy air like a lullaby and he can confidently say he’d listen to her moans forever, if time allowed. 

“I think it’s funny,” Harry starts with a comedic edge to his strained voice, mimicking the introduction Y/N had used the day before when they’d been in the jacuzzi, “that you’re always so willing to let me use you however I want. That you literally beg me to take you this hard. It’s almost pitiful, really, that you never had anyone fuck you right before I came along.”

The girl squirms in his arms, her hands flat against his abdomen, nails carving into his flesh. Her sentences come out cracked and almost pained. “I-I wish I’d met you sooner.” 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” Harry grits against the shell of her ear, smirking when she worries her lower lip beneath her top teeth, trying to keep a tab on what he knows is probably an embarrassingly loud keen. “I bet you wish you’d had me back home, huh? Spent all your time fucking around with those vanilla small-town boys, never had a real man treat you the way you wanted. Bet you didn’t even like those pricks, did you, darling?”

Y/N shakes her head vigorously in response. “They were so boring. You’re so much better.” 

She’s working his praise kink like a charm.

“Poor thing.” Harry scoffs sympathetically, running his grasp upwards until his thumb and forefinger rope around her jaw. He maneuvers her head into place, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, hissing his words lowly. “Eyes up. See how pretty you look taking every last bit of that cock? And the way your tummy’s bulging? That’s how you know the sex is good— that’s how it’s supposed to look.”

Y/N gazes upon the image her friend is referring, her exhales hiccuping in her chest at the way an obvious bump rises in her belly every time he thrusts inside. Not only that, but Harry just looks incredible, as well, with his heavily inked arm flushed between her breasts, the art flexing to life as he yanks her down against his lap by her neck. She can see the sweat beading his hairline, his freshly-washed ringlets jumping to his movements as he groans into her scalp. 

Y/N’s lips part in a silent moan and the immortal takes this chance to shove his first two fingers into her mouth, weighing them against her tongue and instructing her with a clear, deep accent. “Suck.”

She does so obediently, her cheeks hollowing as she gasps around the digits, swiveling to match his tempo. Between her glistening body, the needy expression painted across her appearance as she conforms to his every demand, and the way her walls are clinging to him like a vice as she eagerly licks and suckles at him…

Harry loses it. 

“Fucking hell.” The monster unclamps the hand he has around her jugular and Y/N drops back down onto her heels, ankles quaking now that she has to carry her own weight. His palm finds refuge along the back of her skull instead, proceeding to shove her head down towards the counter, pulling at the cuffs to finagle her into a folded position. “Bend over.”

Y/N does as told, a small, “mm!” plucking at her vocal chords as Harry pushes her cheek down against the cold marble situated between his two sinks. He pins her head to the surface and she casts her attention upwards to try and get a peek of him through the glass. His eyes look unnaturally dark, though she can’t quite place the shade given her limited view. 

The vampire makes sure the chain link is secured around his knuckles, proceeding to use the toy to bounce Y/N against his cock. He yanks her towards his torso until she thunks wetly against his base, using his hips to push her forward harshly and pulling out until his tip is barely grazing her entrance. He repeats this action over and over, weak whimpers spilling shamelessly from his plump ruby lips as he keeps her face fastened down, maintaining some form of consistent stability. Every fiber of his being sparks with bliss as he watches her jerk against the counter, back caving forward and causing her naked chest to bulge against the stone panel. One of these days, she’s going to drive him mental. He swears it. 

“There’s a good girl, minx.” Harry’s head tips backwards, bobbing back and forth as his sticky chest heaves with the exertion of keeping him tethered to reality. “Take it just like that, yeah? God, you should see the way you’re so snug around me. Love that cock, don’t you? Say it. Tell me you love it.”

Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against the dip of her spine, nails digging into her palms. “I love your cock, Harry. I love it so much. Don’t stop, please don’t fucking— oh!” He prods over her g-spot and she shudders below him. “Shit, keep going! Right there, right there, right there— oh my God!”

“Right here? Is that what’s gonna make my dirty little whore cum?” Harry grinds his teeth, ignoring the rouge curls falling into his furrowed brows, jabbing the spongy area with continuous plunges. “More? Look at how you’re shaking, baby. And you’re just so fucking wet. Absolutely soaked and... and fuck, that’s my sweet girl.” 

The boy keeps delivering every plea she chokes out, his climax beginning to froth at the trench of his stomach and along the underside of his balls. A familiar glow starts to pour into his dormant veins. “I’m almost there, dove. Gonna fill you up until it runs down your thighs.”

“Y-You’re so good, I can’t fucking— I’m gonna—”

“Beg for it. Beg for Daddy, princess.” 

Y/N does so with no remorse, confessing to him how much she wants his load, telling him that she needs to feel him spill inside her all warm and thick and heavy. A dark, open-mouthed smirk adorns Harry’s features as he fucks a throbbing ache between her thighs, feeling his mind completely slip. He may be damned with eternal life, but in this instant, the immortal feels like he touches heaven. 

Then, that moment of pure euphoria is stripped away by the sound of his front door clicking open. 

Harry’s eyes snap awake, all his motions coming to an abrupt halt. He shushes a protesting Y/N quietly, tuning his heightened hearing to make sure he hadn’t imagined the sound. 

But no, it’s very much real. It’s followed by the noise of the lock clanking back into its hole, and then three pairs of footsteps begin echoing down the hallway that leads to his living room. He recognizes every single one and unhinged rage suddenly flares around his pupils, potent and bright red. If Y/N wasn’t in such a compromisable position, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that slip-up. 

“Christ, you’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”

Harry carefully withdraws himself from between the mortal’s legs, wincing a bit at the loss of suction and feeling a spoonful of guilt stem from the disappointed whine Y/N sobs. His swollen, leaking cock sways lightly as he takes a cautious step back, testing to see if he’s capable of moving without face-planting the ground. His mind is misty and he’s obviously drenched in the pungent scent of sex, but other than that, he reckons he can manage just fine. Especially with the newfound anger coursing through his nerves— a direct result of the unexpected trio of intruders chatting nonchalantly on the floor below. 

Harry stumbles towards the exit of the bathroom, knees wobbly and head spinning, an unsatisfied gnawing toiling in his groin. He needs to get that taken care of as soon as possible, but he can’t until he gets rid of the three morons milling around his foyer. He snatches his cherry blossom silk robe from the hook on the wall, wrapping it around himself tightly and making sure to cover all his assets to prevent any mishaps. 

He glances up at a pouting Y/N as he ties off the ribbon around his waist, walking back and helping her onto her unstable feet, cooing apologetically. “Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I heard some visitors come in downstairs ‘cause, apparently, they don’t understand the concept of privacy. This is the last time I’m trusting anyone with an extra key.”  

The girl leans back against one of the sinks, blinking up at him emptily as he thumbs over her chin in comfort. Her voice is hardly audible, raw with exhaustion. “How...How did you know they were here? I didn’t hear them come in...” 

Harry pauses for a moment, clearing his throat awkwardly and pecking her on the nose to insert a distraction. He throws some humor into the mix as well, wanting to steer the conversation to safe grounds, opting for using a bit of compulsion to get the job done. His pupils dilate as his sentences swim around her head in a soothing voice, heavy with persuasion. “I heard the door slam shut. I guess you were a little too busy screaming my name to notice.” 

Y/N’s pupils expand to match his, her face going slack as the supernatural magic sews into her thoughts and molds her perspective to his story. Her lashes flutter in mild confusion, brows cinching as her brain recalibrates itself. The creases in her forehead dissolve as all of her doubt melts away, the corners of her plump lips quirking at his snarky remark. “I guess so.” 

“Can’t blame you, though.” Harry taps at her bottom lip cheekily, shrugging his brows. “I was giving it to you pretty good.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” Y/N rolls her foggy eyes, but she can’t hide the way her heartbeat spikes— not from him. Then, her face suddenly wracks with embarrassment, eyes shattering with humiliated realization. “Oh my God, that means they probably heard everything…”

Oh, they definitely heard everything, Harry thinks. They’ve got nothing better to do other than pry. 

He nurses her downcast face with his cold palm, one shoulder rising and falling casually to show it’s no big deal. “Don’t worry about it, hm? I’m gonna go kick them out, anyways, so you won’t have to deal with it.”

The pet name and his kind gesture eases her woes a bit, but not much. “Still. I’m never showing my face in public ever again.”

Now it’s the vampire’s turn to roll his eyes at her theatrics. “Just stay here, yeah? It’ll only take a second, and then…” Her friend gives her naked body a suggestive once-over, licking at the corner of his mouth. “Then we can finish what we started.” 

Y/N kicks at his ankle, jokingly chastising him for his wandering gaze as she fiddles with her fingers within the handcuffs. “Just go.”  

The moment Harry’s bare feet step off the last rung of his staircase, he begins spewing venom at the three imbeciles standing around at the mouth of his entrance corridor. 

“Are you fucking dense?” He stomps up towards the group of young men with balled fists and bristling irises, all his spite trained on Mitch. “I told you I was busy! That suggests that you should’ve stayed away for the weekend! It meant, ‘leave me alone,’ not ‘come to my flat unannounced.’”

“Yeah, we know you’re busy.” Niall boasts with a loud scoff, shaking his head as an afterthought. “I think the whole building knows, at this point.”

The Irish bloke grabs Xander, who catches onto what the man is doing and happily takes a part in the action. He bends over while Niall grasps onto his shoulders and begins to mimic thrusting, arching his back forward and shaking his ass. He sucks one of his fingers into his mouth, moaning profusely to add authenticity to their vulgar reenactment. “Oh, Harry! Right there, don’t stop!”

Niall drops his voice a few octaves for symbolism, putting on a shitty British accent as he bucks against Xander’s backside. “Yeah, baby, you like that? Like it right there? Tell me how much you love that cock.” 

Harry’s jaw clenches as he tries to ignore them, refusing to give rise to their taunting. The two boys break into a puddle of giggles at his expense, nudging each other triumphantly and eventually dying down. Harry isn’t normally the type of person to daydream about violence— why would anyone partake in something so barbaric when dismantling an enemy psychologically is so much better?— but he finds himself fantasizing about tearing Niall and Xander’s hands off and using them as ping-pong paddles. 

Mitch shifts his body towards his best friend, arms crossed loosely with an expression of sheer amusement painted across his bearded face, seeming undisturbed by Harry’s rampage and deadly grimace. “It’s nice to see you, too, H.” 

The younger vampire takes a measured inhale, swallowing down the urge to rip the older man’s mustache clean off. He directs his next sentence at all of them, glaring intently as his voice comes out flat and harsh. “Get out.”

Niall raises his palms in peaceful surrender, proceeding to use an index finger to signal hastily between his impromptu porno co-star and himself. “Don’t look at us, this was Mitch's idea. We just came along.” 

“None of you should have come at all.” Harry spits, tightening his lean arms over his chest, biceps rippling under the thin silk of his elegant robe. “What do you want?” 

A soft giggle suddenly bursts from Xander and he momentarily slaps his hand over his mouth to muddle it, but his eyes continue to dance with mirth. “Sorry, I just can’t take you seriously in that.” He juts his chin towards Harry’s pajamas. “I think my grandmother had one just like it.” 

“Yeah, I stole this from her place right after I pissed on her grave.” The brunette snaps with an exaggerated smile, feeling a flare of evil satisfaction at the way Xander’s grin immediately plops. Niall snorts loudly and tries to cover it up, but it fails and he is left having to brace the brunt of the other boy’s contempt. 

Harry turns back to face Mitch while the other two immortals bicker, now aware that he is the mastermind behind this entire coup. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you have left for Vegas already?”

“Yeah, we should have.” He answers pointedly with a soft, dejected sigh. Harry has to keep himself from casting his gaze away in guilt. 

The annual trip had been a tradition he and Mitch had started in the nineties, just them two. As their group had expanded, so had the attendant list, and now it was something special their whole clique did together to put some extra excitement— something stable to look forward to— into the endless years they had ahead. No one had missed out on the trip in the last thirty years, especially not willingly, and no one ever thought Harry— the co-founder of the event— would be the one to break that streak. He can tell Mitch is upset. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbles, squeezing at the inside of his elbows and putting as much genuine emotion into his demeanor as possible. “It just slipped my mind and I made another commitment that I can’t bail on. But it won’t happen again, I promise. Betsy swear.” 

Mitch’s downturned lips jolt slightly at the mention of his old bayonet. He had kept the weapon after the American Revolution had ended, as a tribute to the old life he was leaving behind after he transitioned, naming it fondly after his mother. With all of that history taken into appeal, it’s no wonder the item means a lot to him. That is exactly why the two best friends had developed a dynamic around it. 

They would tie an oath to the object in order to ensure it would be kept, and if the promise was broken, the other would get to stab the traitor with it. The game had been something Mitch and Harry had conjured up decades ago while under the influence of some very strong psychedelics, but it had stuck, for some reason. It’s simply a playful inside joke, and though it’s a tad gruesome, it’s hardly an issue considering they both self-heal quickly. Any damage inflicted is equivalent to that of a rubber band snapping against their skin, so in the end, no harm, no foul. At its core, it’s just a vampire’s version of a pinky swear, hence the term, “Betsy swear.” Harry had thought about getting it patented, at one point. 

The jade-eyed boy feels a weight lift off his shoulders as Mitch indulges one of his signature quiet chuckles. “Alright, fine. Betsy swear, then. The reason we’re here is ‘cause I wanted to check up on you before we left, and ‘cause I wanted to make sure you switched the reservation. You never got back to me about it.” 

“Oh, my bad. I got it done, though. Everything should check out.” Harry reassures, waving away his visitor’s doubt. He’d tended to the job last night after Y/N fell asleep and he meant to send a confirmation text, but forgot when the mortal had begun to stir randomly. He’d had to put away his phone and pretend to be unconscious for a few minutes until her agitation melted away, resulting in the deed going undone, courtesy of the mild panic that had dulled his memory. “Why didn’t you just text me about it?” 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, pursing his lips to fight off an entertained grin. “Oh, I did. Multiple times, actually. But I reckon you were too busy with the treadmill to notice.” 

The older creature’s reference works as intended, an irritating flush crawling up Harry’s neck and pouring into his ears, garnering a fit of cackles on his companion’s behalf.

“Fuck off.” Harry grumbles as he shoves Mitch’s shoulder, but the insult is hard to take seriously when he’s wrestling a smirk of his own. 

“Is it the girl from the club?” The lanky man inquires curiously, tilting his head to the side with an impressed air. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? That’s a record, I think. You’ve never kept one around that long.” 

“What can I say, the sex is good.” Harry shrugs easily, tucking a couple of rebellious curls away from his eyes, which gleam crimson red as a supporting factor to his next comment. “And the blood is even better.”

Mitch rolls his irises playfully. “Alright, Casanova, pipe down.” He glances over his friend’s rumpled appearance, taking in the slightly damp skin, wild hair, and the plethora of faded hickies peeking through the boy’s robe, littering his chest and collarbones. “She’s got you on a tight leash, I see.” 

“It’s only fair, considering she spends most of that time in my handcuffs. Quid pro quo and all that.” Harry quips back, bursting into laughter when Mitch gags dramatically. 

“You know you could’ve just brought her along, right?” Mitch suggests, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We each have our own rooms, remember? No one would get in the way of your little late night jogs. Though I can’t say the same for the other hotel guests. She’s not necessarily subtle.” 

Harry presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek coyly. “It’s not my fault I’m good in bed. It’s a curse, really. Could never get away with dressing room sex.”

He contemplates Mitch's offer for a second. He thinks it could be a fun time, but then he recalls that the trip to Vegas is a week-long party, which Y/N can’t indulge because she works a regular nine-to-five. Plus, a human in a car full of vampires sounds like the introduction to an ominous joke. Something is bound to slip, especially because no one in the crew is used to having humans around outside of meal hours. He doesn’t want the responsibility of constantly having to wipe her brain. 

Aside from that, most of the vampires that mill around Vegas aren’t as cultured as Harry’s friends. They lack restraint, a conscience, and fear of consequences, given that the city’s crazy reputation provides the perfect cover for all those dangerous behaviors. That makes them deadly predators to someone as trusting and unsuspecting as Y/N, and having to continuously protect her would be too much of a hassle. It’s supposed to be a vacation; the last thing he needs is for it to turn into an episode of Shark Week. It’s best to stay put.

Harry shakes his head after a minute, clearing his throat. “But I think I’m good. Bringing along a human isn’t worth all the trouble she might cause. Thank you, though.” 

Mitch bobs his head in understanding, well aware of the problems Harry is alluding to. “You have a point.” He pauses for a second in thought, shaking his head at the idea of having to deal with the insanity that surrounds their Vegas siblings. “I guess I’ll just see you next week, then, yeah? Better get going.”

The younger vampire mirrors his nod, opening his arms for a hug, which Mitch gladly takes. He’s not one for affection, that much is clear, but he makes certain exceptions here and there, and of course his friends file under that category. And every now and then, Y/N does too. 

“See you next week.” He pulls away from the embrace with a hard pat to Mitch’s shoulder, smiling softly. “Send tons of pictures, okay? And videos of Niall getting shitfaced. I need new blackmail content.” 

“Will do.” Mitch squeezes his best friend’s shoulders tightly, beaming at him in return. He then cranes towards his two fellow guests, whistling to gain their attention from the passionate conversation they seem to be having about Harry’s robe. “Time to head out, Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Who’s who?” Niall questions childishly, raising an eyebrow. “Because I think I should be Clyde. Xander has Bonnie vibes.” 

“No I don’t!” 

“Yes, you do.” The Irish boy reasons, cocking his head knowingly. “You seem like the type who would cheat on a murderer with another criminal from the same jail. You’ve got a knack for drama, like most women.” 

Xander crosses his arms stubbornly. “No, I don’t.”

“You do, actually.” Harry butts in, eyes twinkling slyly as the group starts to wander towards the exit. He decides to get revenge for the teasing from earlier. “You moan just like one, too.”

Xander blushes bright red, diving into the shadow of the corridor to avoid any more ridicule. “I’m leaving.” 

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” 

The other vampires laugh as they follow behind Harry’s ex-fling, waving their final goodbyes. As soon as the front door echoes shut, the immortal turns on his heel and heads back towards the glass stairs, beginning to undo the silk ribbon knotted around his hips. 

He’s got his own partner in crime to attend to. 

///

That night, Y/N and Harry end up bidding each other farewell in the corridor of his condo. 

That seems to be a common theme in their relationship, he’s come to find. It’s usually the entrance to her own apartment instead of his, but the motif is there, nonetheless: They always end up meeting in a hallway, every single time. 

“Thanks for having me over.” Y/N murmurs in her signature gentle dialect, smiling delicately as she skids the toe of her sneaker against the ground of the carpet outside his door, trying to keep the butterflies in her tummy tame. It was an incredible two days— maybe the best weekend she’s ever had, if she’s being honest. “I had a lot of fun.” 

Harry leans his bare shoulder against his threshold, clad in nothing but a pair of royal blue boxers and black ankle socks, freely showing off the collection of love bites and scratches Y/N had so kindly finished gifting him a few hours ago. She’d gone wild the second he’d unlocked the metal cuffs and he’s more than happy with the results.

The stains speckle his broad chest and the expanse of his taut neck, dark and obvious beneath the complex’s buttery lighting. Bruises trace down his stomach and across his ribs, a neat row of four hickies centered vertically between his two fern inkings. They disappear suggestively under the elastic band of his underwear and she can feel flashes of heat layer across her cheeks, her mind recalling all the filthy sounds he’d made when she had created them.

The human peels away from the artwork that is Harry’s marked torso, glancing around nervously at the fact that some stranger might see the fruit of their actions. The vampire’s lips twitch at her concern; it baffles him how she can be such a devil in between the sheets, but such a shy, reserved angel in every other aspect. It’s cute. 

Harry reaches forward and takes her warm fingers into his larger hand, thumbing over her knuckles appreciatively as his irises glitter smugly amidst his lashes, a smirk stringing his pillowy mouth. “We always have a lot of fun.” 

Y/N squeezes his palm playfully, gnawing into her cheek and humming in agreement. “That, we do.”

A moment of comfortable silence suspends the air between them, the only sound being the faint footsteps of people on the levels above and below, alongside the light skidding of the elevator as it delivers patrons to their destinations. Harry is the first to speak up again. 

“What was your favorite part?” 

Y/N blinks up at him blankly, slightly startled at the random question, but moreso at being put on the spot. 

“Oh, uh…” She laughs shakily, struggling to recall everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. There had been so much bare skin and desperate tongues involved, she can hardly pick through her memories without her ears prickling. “I think...I think the shower was my favorite. It was nice and relaxing. Helped me unwind.” 

Harry nods in recognition, turning through the pages in his mind and skimming through the instance she’s referring. “It was pretty nice, yeah. You look good in a soap beard.” 

Y/N scoffs at his joking compliment. “Thanks. I’ll grow it out more often. Just for you.” 

The young man reaches up and grips over his chest in fake passion, face contorted into a wistful expression. “That’s all I ask.” 

The pair break into childish giggles and the sensation of Harry rubbing across the top of her hand is starting to make her head fuzzy. “What about yours? What was your favorite?”

Harry mulls over his own topic for a few seconds, lips puckering in thought as his eyes narrow pensively. The comically adorable picture makes Y/N’s heart skip. 

“I think…” Harry lists his gaze downwards back onto his patiently-awaiting friend, lips spreading into his patented dazzling smile. “I think it was probably the Hamilton reenactment.” 

Y/N brows jump, mood slightly unconvinced. “Really?” 

The vampire nods confidently, his own eyebrows inching upwards, voice amused. “Why is that so hard to believe?”   

Y/N shrugs offhandedly, glimpsing down at where the ridges of his thumb are delivering soothing shots of bliss into her veins. “You’re just so...y’know...you… so I guess I just expected you’d have a preference for the more…” She chooses her next words carefully, not wanting to be so brazen with the risk of someone overhearing, “...intimate parts of the weekend.”

“Wow, okay. Just call me a whore to my face, then. That’s fine.” 

Y/N throws her free hand upwards in a fist, slugging Harry on the shoulder with appalled shock overtaking her features. His boyish chuckles echo off the walls of the building as she whips her head around to make sure no one had witnessed his dirty bluntness. “You know what I mean!” 

“Yeah.” He purposefully raises his voice, nearly shouting the following sentence just to get on her nerves. “You’re slut-shaming me!” 

Y/N surges forward, trying to clamp her hand over his mouth and save herself the embarrassment. “Harry, shut up!”

He easily fights her off, his supernatural strength beating hers tenfold. She ends up wrapped in his embrace, flushed against his hard chest as he sticks his tongue out at her mockingly. He drops his tone back down to normal, his two front teeth digging into his lower lip to keep more laughter from bubbling over. “That’s not nice. You should stop conforming to society’s outdated ‘sex is taboo’ narrative.”

“I wasn’t—” Y/N starts insistently, but then she realizes she’s become almost as loud as him so she forces her voice to taper into an alarmed hiss instead. “I wasn’t slut-shaming you! I was simply expressing—”

“You just see me as a toy, don’t you?” The creature cuts her off, lips dipping downwards into a glorified frown. He proceeds to bat his lashes and sniffle, packing as many theatrics as possible into his mopey act. “I have feelings, y’know? My big dick and cunnilingus skills aren’t my only redeeming qualities! You should be ashamed of yourself for objectifying me like that.”

Y/N presses her lips together to ward off an immature grin, rattling her head to get herself under control. She gives him a stern look, warning him to cut it out. “Stop being a child.” 

“Stop using me for sex and making derogatory assumptions about my promiscuity.”  

“Oh, hop of it! You use me right back. It’s mutual.”

“Which is why the slut-shaming is such a paradox.” 

“For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t fucking— You know what? You can’t even pin me on the objectification part because you do it to me all the time!” 

“Oh, is that so?” Harry prods with a humorous tilt of his head, squeezing at her love handles and swimming in the way she wriggles around. “Elaborate.” 

“When you slapped my ass in the shower. Or when you put your hand under my shirt to play with my chest while we watch TV.” Y/N debates, poking at the thorax of his butterfly tattoo. “Very objectifying, if you ask me.”

“Mm, not quite, darling.” The vampire shakes his head and draws her closer, ducking down to flirt the tip of his nose along the slope of hers. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh, yeah?” She digs her nails into his pectorals, discreetly savoring the strong muscles. “What is it?”

Harry glimpses down at where she’s carving indents into his flesh, enjoying the minute pain more than he should. He drifts his mouth closer towards her ear, inhaling the scent of his shampoo wafting from her silky strands of hair. “The difference is that you’re usually begging me to do all those things.”

Y/N’s teeth grind in begrudging defeat, her spine giving a surrendered shiver at his crude point. “Whatever.” 

Harry releases her body, haughty victory written all over his posture. “I rest my case.” 

Y/N’s pride blazes, a threat falling from her tongue sharply, but it holds no true intentions. “Maybe I should just stop asking you to, then.”

“You won’t.” The boy sighs airily, tapping his bare foot against the ground without a care in the world. “You like me too much.” 

“Even if I like you, I’d have enough dignity to stop seeing you if I wanted.” Y/N huffs, making a face at him to emphasize her stance. “It’s this little thing called ‘willpower.’”

��Yeah, well, we both know you and your willpower are gonna end up texting my number Friday night, asking me to come over for some more interior design advice.” Harry snarkily dismisses, presenting a scenario where he’s holding an invisible phone in his hands, pretending to tap out a message. His voice comes out high-pitched, mimicking her own. “Hey, one of the rungs on my headboard came loose. Can you come help me fix it?”

Y/N stares at him with eyes half-lidded in pettiness. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You’re right. You’re a tad more nasally.” 

“Asshole.” 

“I’m just calling it like I see it, love.”

Y/N socks him on the shoulder again as retribution, though it barely has an impact. 

After a couple heartbeats full of vengeful silence, Y/N chimes up with a jesting tone, though the manner in which she’s picking at her nails tells Harry she’s slightly anxious. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to send out a text inviting you to come over Friday...would you?”

A lopsided simper pops the immortal’s dimples awake. He shifts on his feet, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. “Hypothetically speaking, I think I could very well make it.” 

Y/N chews on her lower lip as the apples of her cheeks jolt. “Ok, well...Let’s say— once again, hypothetically— that I should be home by eight that day. Would that work for you?” 

Harry cocks his head from side to side as if churning the offer around his mind. “I think that, hypothetically, that fits right into my schedule.”

The human’s belly flops in giddy excitement. “Great. It’s booked, then. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

“Of course.” Harry agrees, the reply accompanied by a teasing furrow of his sculpted brows and a curt nod. 

Y/N clasps her hands in front of her thighs with finality, giving him a bright smile. “Alright, then. I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week.” Harry confirms with a cheeky wink, running his tongue along his top teeth to keep from bursting into giggles. “Hypothetically.” 

“Hypothetically.” Y/N states with a slight bow of her head, tucking one hand into the back pocket of her dark jeans as she takes a step back from the front door with a small wave. She turns on her heel to face the elevator at the other end of the hall, her foot lifting to take the first step towards the exit. 

“Wait.” 

The mortal looks back towards her friend, eyebrows poised in question. 

Harry scratches at the nape of his neck, smiling softly. “I could really go for a goodbye kiss. Not-so-hypothetically.” 

Y/N blinks at him in wonder. He’s never asked for one before. 

The awkward aura that quickly fills the space between them becomes suffocating. He considers the option of telling her he was just joking to spare himself the humiliation, but he doesn’t get the chance. Y/N lurches forward, teetering onto the tips of her toes and buttoning her lips to his. The spontaneous action makes him swallow his words. 

He fumbles to cup her jaw, kissing her back with just as much fervor and feeling the coldness of his skin fizzle away under her inherent warmth. The gesture isn’t sexual or desperate, but simply sweet and fulfilling. He enjoys it, though it’s not surprising given that he enjoys her lips touching him in any and every way imaginable. He’s not exactly sure why he’d made this particular request— it’s very out of character for him, in every sense of the phrase— but he deduces it’s likely because he wants one more thing to cling onto until he gets to feel her mouth again. It’s not uncommon to want a little something extra to get through the tougher nights, so it’s truly not that big of an occurrence. It’s only reasonable.  

Y/N breaks their exchange, eyes glassy and so beautifully clear as she pecks his chin one last time in a polite farewell. “Text me if you need me...And especially if you need me.”

Harry gulps thickly at the suggestive statement, nodding numbly as her body heat slips away. “Will do. Thanks. And thanks for the kiss. Needed it to tide me over until Friday.” 

“My pleasure. See you later, Holmes.” 

Harry waits patiently until Y/N’s figure disappears behind the gilded doors of the fancy elevator, watching the closed slates of metal glint coldly under the blurry lighting of the condominium’s corridor. He walks back into his apartment, shutting the door gently and slouching into the plush cushions of his leather sofa with a detached sigh. He gazes up at his extravagant chandeliers, once again left in the empty solitude he’d grown so fond of in his extensive lifetime. There’s not a single sound or motion invading his seclusion, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his rug, and everything is so still and quiet, it’s almost deafening. But despite every aspect being as it should, he can’t shake the sensation that something is off. Something is wrong. Something’s missing.

And for the first time in years, he finds himself feeling more lonely than alone. 

///

It only takes Harry about an hour of uneventful isolation to realize he’s made a grave mistake. 

He should have gone on the trip. 

Despite the fact that the vampire lives alone, he very rarely spends any time without seeing his friends. Since they all reside in the same building, it’s fairly easy for him to find some entertainment whenever boredom strikes. He’ll either go up a floor to Mitch’s place to watch a movie or mess around with his collection of vintage guitars, or he’ll go a level below to visit Adam and talk about any new art exhibits opening up around the area. He could visit Niall three floors above to play some FIFA on his gaming console and share porn recommendations, or even take the elevator to the twelfth floor to bother Xander and talk some shit while they do each other’s nails. And if Harry’s feeling extra needy for attention, he could always just invite them all over to his place so the group could go out for some Thai food at the restaurant down the street, or go see a movie at the cinema, or take a ride to their favorite local bar. 

No matter the circumstances, his friends are always readily available for him when he needs them, so he very solemnly spends his days alone. That is, until now. 

The entire crew had left for the Vegas trip and— as a result of his own irresponsibility and immature hormones— had left him all by himself for the next seven days. He would never admit it aloud to spare himself the ridicule of being overly sappy, but he misses the group. He misses Mitch’s soft voice and quiet wittiness, and he misses Adam’s cheeky banter and random fun facts, and he misses Niall’s inappropriate jokes and boisterous laughter, and he even misses Xander’s annoying digs and childish pettiness. He didn’t know how much he took it all for granted until it was gone.

For the rest of the week, Harry is practically miserable. The guys don’t text him much, which can be expected since the whole point of the holiday is to enjoy every second of it; there would be no point in traveling four hours just to sit in their hotel and message him. He talks to Y/N a bit, but she is also occupied most of the time with work, given that she had to take on a few extra shifts on behalf of her co-workers. The earliest she goes in is six A.M., the latest she comes out is nine P.M., and by then, Harry reckons she’s probably falling asleep in the entrance corridor of her home. He understands her exhaustion and therefore doesn’t expect her to humor him; it wouldn’t be fair. 

With everyone in his life busy and with his flat feeling colder and emptier than ever, it’s a miracle he doesn’t go mad within its walls. He goes out a handful of times to do some grocery shopping, for a run around a nearby park, and to take a walk along his favorite mall, but that’s it, really. He doesn’t go out to eat simply because he thinks it would be embarrassing having to sit alone at a restaurant; it’s pitiful and sad and he’s not going to subject himself to that. The most stimulating social interaction he has that week is a tie between a bit of flirting with a Target cashier, some suggestive gazing exchanged with a Starbucks barista, and a couple of cheeky caresses from a Gucci store employee taken while measuring his waist for a custom order. None of it satisfies him the way it normally does, though, and he can’t place why. 

By the time Friday evening rolls around, Harry is a hair short from letting his regular case of stir-crazy slip into a full-on psychotic break. That’s why he ends up at Y/N’s complex earlier than the agreed-upon hour, stepping out of his Cadillac with twenty minutes left to spare and with a certain desperation eating away at the back of his skull.

The creature casually jogs up the worn steps to her floor, the only sound being the heels of his maroon velvet boots clicking against the cement ground. He whistles softly to the vague tune of a new pop song that had been playing on the radio— Wet Ass something?— as he tucks his phone into his pocket and brushes a few traces of lint off his freshly-ironed button-up. 

His outfit for tonight is nothing too spectacular, but it isn’t too lazy, either. It’s a long-sleeve black silk shirt with glass buttons and a pair of large swallows embroidered along either sides of his chest, the threads dyed royal and pastel blue, cherry red, and creamy yellow. The top is cuffed up his elbows and unbuttoned down to his butterfly tattoo, showing off his naturally tanned skin and matching swallow inkings, the cross on his delicate chain centered between his pecs and twinkling under the flickering lights. He’d coupled the loose blouse with some black skinny jeans, a dark leather belt, a small golden hoop earring, and his trusty collection of rings and necklaces. In his opinion, it’s a proper look for a planned-out booty call. Formal, but easy to rip off. Especially in a blind hurry. 

Harry figures that he’ll check to see if Y/N is home, just to cover the bases. If she isn’t, he’ll tred back down the stairs and wait for her in his car. If she is, then that’s all the better; there’s no damage in starting a bit earlier than scheduled. It makes for a better recoup period between rounds. 

The immortal turns the corner into the familiar hallway where Y/N’s flat is located, one of his hands already forming into a loose fist with the intention of knocking on her door. He makes it about five paces before he’s slapped with an image that causes him to stop cold in his tracks, his whistling coming to an abrupt halt. 

Harry blinks repeatedly and lowers the frame of his pink Gucci sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, wanting to make sure the scene before him isn’t a figment of his imagination. Much to his displeasure, it isn’t. 

About three meters ahead, situated right in front of her door with her back facing towards him, is Y/N. That isn’t the odd aspect of the picture, though. What’s odd is that her usual grimy work attire is missing, which he had expected to see given that he knows she always goes to the cafe on Fridays. Instead, she is clad in the pastel blue floral sundress she had worn for him all those weeks back, when they had slept together for the second time. And instead of wearing her scuffed up Vans, she is wearing a pair of pretty tan sandals. And instead of having her hair up in a frizzy ponytail, it’s down and fanned around her shoulders in a glossy sheen of tousled curls. And she’s wearing perfume— the same one she had worn the night they met. He can smell it from here and it makes his brows furrow in confusion. She never wears perfume to work; she says it’s forbidden since it can make customers nauseous. 

But aside from all of those unorthodox details, there is one specific factor above all that throws Harry for the biggest loop he’s encountered in the last five weeks of knowing her. 

Y/N isn’t alone. She’s accompanied by another man. 

Harry gives the stranger a calculating once-over, taking in every aspect of the boy’s appearance. He has to keep himself from sputtering into laughter. This has to be some type of fucking joke. 

The bloke is fit, he’ll give him that, at least. He’s handsome and somewhat muscular, but in a manner that is painfully cliche and utterly boring. He has sandy blonde hair that falls across his forehead in a shaggy sideways bang, eyes the color of a Malibu beach, and generally soft features with the exception of decent cheekbones. He’s wearing a dull orange polo, khaki pants, Levi sneakers, and an annoyingly giant watch on his wrist that gives the impression he’s trying to show off. Harry nearly vomits in his mouth. 

Who the fuck would wear a polo willingly? And how brain dead does he have to be to think khakis are still in style? His fashion sense is obviously stunted. It appears his brain is stuck in his middle school phase, when the Justin Bieber haircut and douchey brands were all the rave amongst snotty pre-teens. Also, his watch is an embarrassment. Harry doesn’t know what the guy is attempting— and failing— to show off, considering the accessory is chunky and ugly and not even Versace or Rolex. It’s a disgrace. 

As if the forced posh demeanor isn’t enough, the imbecile actually has the guts to have a fake tan. The vampire isn’t surprised, unfortunately, given that eighty percent of all Los Angeles residents think it’s acceptable to dip-dye themselves into a carrot. He faintly wonders if the man’s balls are colored, as well, or if his ass and sack are as pale as his personality probably is. That would be quite the comedic sight either way. Creamsicles for the win, he supposes. 

Harry may not be alarmed by the blonde boy’s get-up, but he is disgusted. Thoroughly disgusted. Horrifically disgusted. What is Y/N doing with this moron? 

According to what he’s gathered from her personality and the pillow talks they often share, she hates the California stereotype almost as much as he does, if not more. She hates the fake tans and bleached hair and lack of conscience. She hates the outdated teenage brands, cringey jewelry, and fraternity member aesthetic. She especially hates the fact that some of these people don’t understand the basic principles of boundaries. And the thing is, this dude-bro of a man definitely ticks all of those boxes— especially with how close he’s standing next to her, looming above her frame with one arm extended against the surface of her door, trying to look nonchalant and cool as he drawls on about whatever topic they’re discussing. 

He’s practically the poster child for everything the girl despises, from the straightened hair to the alter boy church pants to the stupid forest tattoo on his forearm. So what in the flying fuck is she doing entertaining him? What is she doing standing outside her apartment with this trashy, bacon strip-looking, youth leader knock-off, 2012 Bieber impersonator of a human? 

It has to be a joke. It just has to. There’s no other valid explanation, except maybe a plea of insanity. 

Harry doesn’t realize he’s scowling until the stranger makes eye contact with him. The boy’s face breaks into an expression of unsettled discomfort at the way the vampire is peering at him over his sunglasses, allowing his end of the conversation to falter to dust. Y/N’s brows cinch at the occurrence, her attention peeling away to follow where her date’s had wandered. 

The second her gaze locks with Harry’s intense own, she feels her heart drop to her stomach. Fuck.

Let it be known Y/N didn’t want this. She didn’t want to go on a date with Jacob. In fact, she didn’t know who Jacob was until halfway through this week and she honestly wishes it had stayed that way. She wishes she hadn’t picked up Melissa’s shift with Isabel, she wishes she hadn’t offered to wait that extra table in the back out of the kindness in her heart, and she wishes she hadn’t caught the attention of the customer inhabiting it. 

As it turns out, the young man was Isabel’s cousin. He had come to pick her up since the girl’s car had been stuck at the shop for the last few days, and he had arrived a bit earlier than intended, deciding to sit at the back table to wait out the final ten minutes of his relative’s shift. Y/N had simply assumed that he was a regular customer, so she had gone to give him the usual trained introduction in order to follow the golden rule of customer service: Don’t keep a guest waiting. 

Jacob had explained the situation to Y/N, to which she responded with a light laugh and an instinctive apology. She had told him she’d go fetch Isabel for him and bid the boy goodbye. In her rational opinion, she had thought that would be it— a simple crossing of two paths that would likely never cross again— but evidently, the visitor had a very different idea. 

The human’s shift had continued as planned and everything had been going great until Isabel ducked into the kitchen right before leaving, dancing her way across the room and poking her coworker playfully in the tummy.  Apparently, from what Isabel had giddily told her, Jacob had taken an interest in Y/N. It was a bit ridiculous, if you asked her, considering they’d only talked for a total of about thirty seconds before parting routes. But Y/N hadn’t voiced that opinion; she didn’t want to come off as rude. 

Jacob had asked his cousin to set them up on a date and that is why Isabel had gone into the back before leaving. Y/N’s immediate impulse had been to decline. She wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at the moment. Other than Harry, of course. He handled all her needs just fine and they got on so well, she’d be crazy to replace him with some random guy she barely knew. She had gone to express this to Isabel in a gentler manner with an apologetic tone, but the words had ended up lodging in her throat. The girl had stared at Y/N with so much excitement, she’d immediately felt a wave of guilt erupt into her chest. 

She found it difficult to refuse, given that turning down the offer might come off as bitchy and insensitive. Here Isabel was, trying to innocently play match-maker on behalf of someone she cared about, buzzing with glee and smiling at her so big, her cheeks probably hurt. The last thing Y/N wanted was to upset her by basically telling her that Jacob wasn’t up to par with her standards. Rejecting him could be something her acquaintance took personally and Y/N didn’t want to have to deal with drama in the workplace, especially not with someone whose shifts often mirror her own. 

Y/N had reluctantly agreed to the invitation, her only request being that she had to be home by seven thirty. That would give her enough time to prepare for Harry’s visit. 

Her compliance had landed her where she is now, standing in front of her apartment door with a boy she has no interest in. 

It had been a terrible date, though Jacob took no notice of that. He spent the entire dinner talking about himself, going on and on about his college years, and about how he works at a popular surf shop and could probably get her discounted lessons, and about how he doesn’t think he could survive without his Jeep. How he plays guitar and wants to be a famous actor, how he doesn’t understand why people dislike fake tanning, and how his dad owns a country club in South Carolina. How he loves sports, how he thinks museums are dumb, and how he likes girls who are willing to cook for him after they hookup. How he loves going clubbing and that he misses his ex. 

Y/N had nearly groaned out loud at the last two.

It was cruel and unusual torture, in all honestly, and Y/N is just glad it’s over. She’d fulfilled her role— she’d even been nice enough to dress up, to at least finge interest— and could now go free, never having to hear another word about surfboard wax or college football ever again. If only he’d fucking leave.

Jacob had insisted on walking her to the door, which would be sweet if she hadn’t developed a burning hatred for him in the last hour. It came off as annoying and pushy instead, but she allowed it on the grounds of maintaining a polite front. 

She shouldn’t have allowed it. As soon as they’d gotten to her door, he’d started talking all over again and Y/N had no choice but to stand there and listen. She couldn’t go anywhere, given that this is her place and she’s expecting someone. She figured she’d give him until seven fifty and then make up an excuse about having to go to the bathroom in order to get him to piss off. That plan had crumbled when Harry had shown up twenty minutes early. 

The look of inflamed shock that poses Harry’s handsome features makes her stomach curdle. 

She hadn’t meant for him to see this. She’d only gone on the date to spare herself some petty trouble with a coworker. Nothing was bound to come of it, other than a free meal and a guilt-free conscience. It didn’t mean anything and she had no intention of letting it get in between what she and Harry have going. But from an outside perspective, she knows it looks much different. 

The agreement they have isn’t exclusive by any means, but over the last five weeks, the pair have grown pretty comfortable with one another and had given connotations that they weren’t kindling other possible relationships. There’s a type of silent agreement between them that if they were to seek out other people, they would share that information with each other on the grounds of courtesy, friendship, and respect. But Y/N hadn’t said a word to spare him the baseless stress and now he’d run into her smack in the middle of what appears to be a very compromising situation; things aren’t looking good at all. It looks like she’s losing interest in Harry and couldn’t be bothered to tell him. It looks like she’s out for a replacement. It looks like she doesn’t care about their connection at all. 

This is bad. This is really bad.

Y/N’s voice comes out as a shrill shriek of surprise, her body turning abruptly to fully face his rigid own. “Harry! Uh— hi!” 

Harry blinks at her emptily for a moment and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. She can’t read his mind or his expression, but she reckons he’s probably trying to decide if he should follow through on their rendezvous or if he should just leave and never talk to her again. The idea of him choosing the latter makes her mouth go sour. 

The vampire’s emerald irises flit back and forth between his friend and the unknown man behind her, trying to interpret the tone and texture of the circumstance. She’s obviously on a date, if her appearance is any indication, and it’s obviously coming to a close right now, exactly when he’s scheduled to arrive. 

That’s the determining factor that helps him decide his next move. 

Y/N had invited Harry over last Sunday, meaning that she had made their commitment first. This date had to have come into play later in the week, and she had purposefully planned it around their agreed hour in order to give him her undivided attention when the time came. If she had gone out with this guy and then rushed back home to get to him, that must mean she doesn’t plan on indulging another meeting with the stranger. She hadn’t cancelled his visit, either, so that also suggests she isn’t truly interested in this bloke. That makes sense...right?

But that still begs the question: Why had she gone out with him in the first place?

He knows he isn’t owed an explanation, but he also knows that Y/N isn’t the type of person who would just blindside him like this. She isn’t soulless— she’s sweet and caring and generous, so she would never drop him without any warning or consideration for his feelings. She’d never abandon him without telling him why. She’d never do anything that might run a chance of hurting him. 

The immortal is more than aware he doesn’t have the right to be upset about it, either. Their arrangement is loose and open on both ends and he likes it that way. He likes that their relationship isn’t weighed down by commitment and monogamy; it gives him a sense of freedom and independence he’s known to thrive off of. It lets him be himself without playing her emotions, and without causing a ruckus in the plans she has for her new life. And he gets the same in return— he gets to have his needs attended without sacrificing his core beliefs. Their friends with benefits trope rides along the wings of an official bond, only giving them what they want and nothing they don’t, which is how it was meant to be. How it should be.

So why does seeing her with someone else make him feel sick to his stomach?

Harry shakes off the ball of contempt writhing in his chest, clearing the tightness from his throat and molding his expression into a facade of calm indifference. Jealousy is for idiots. 

The vampire fully wraps his perched fingers around the rim of his sunglasses, removing them from the arch of his nose and tucking the shades along the collar of his shirt. He forces his feet to do their job, his lanky legs lurching forward and falling into a casual stride as he walks towards the two humans awaiting a response. 

Harry comes to a stop beside the mortals, clasping his bejeweled hands behind his back and plastering a dazzling grin across his cheeks. He regards his friend with a slight bow of his head, voice airy and carefree as ever. “Hey, Y/N.”

She almost faints in relief. Thank God he’s not mad. 

Y/N returns his smile, shoulders visibly relaxing. “It’s nice to see you.”

“S’nice to see you, too. Always such a…” He pauses, licking at the corner of his lips suggestively, giving her a knowing once-over that only she can interpret, “pleasure.”

The girl ignores the heat that immediately floods her cheeks. Of course he’s doing this in front of Jacob. Of course he’s peacocking. “Likewise.” 

Harry trains his attention onto the young man before him, pursing his lips into a polite smile. As polite as he can muster, anyways. “And who’s this?” 

Y/N blinks herself back into the present, quickly glancing away from Harry’s sharp jaw, though it doesn’t go unnoticed. He feels his ego swell a smidge.  

“This is Jacob.” The human comments easily, signaling to him with an upturned palm. “He’s Isabel’s cousin. You remember Isabel, right? You met her at the club.” 

“I don’t think I do, actually.” Harry murmurs, glimpsing up towards the ceiling to suggest he’s wracking his thoughts. He has a very vague recollection of the two girls he’d momentarily encountered the day he’d first met Y/N, but it’s hazy and unimportant. 

He looks back down at her with sparkling irises, rosy lips twitching with amusement at his next words, knowing they’re going to have a favorable impact. “I guess I was just too distracted by you to pay much attention to anyone else.”  

He can hear more blood rush into her face and the ecstasy it brings him is immeasurable. He cranes his sight back onto Jacob, who has the slightest crease in his brows at Harry’s compliment. Good. That’s exactly what he wanted. 

The monster unclamps his hands and juts one out stiffly towards the mortal. “M’Harry. Good to meet you, mate.” 

Jacob returns the gesture, grasping Harry’s hand firmly in a way the vampire knows is to try and establish dominance. It tickles him when humans try to be tough, especially because Harry could tear his arm right out of its socket as easily as he could lift a sheet of paper. The creature tightens his grip to match the man’s, purposefully putting a tad more strength in to make a silent point. He has to withhold the urge to crunch the boy’s fingers to dust. 

They both release from the exchange and a wave of dark satisfaction trickles into Harry’s bones when he sees Jacob curl and stretch his digits in mild pain. 

Y/N watches the whole scene with a breath trapped in her lungs. This feels surreal.

The blonde clears his throat softly, mouth jilting into an empty smile and it’s obvious he’s only doing it just to keep things civil. “Good to meet you, too. I take it you’re British?” 

“Pure-bred.” Harry remarks proudly, shrugging his shoulders offhandedly as if it’s no big deal. His gaze slinks towards Y/N for a second, tongue pushing along the inside of his cheek smugly. “It works wonders with the ladies.”

A flicker of spite stains the blue in Jacob’s eyes and the vampire feels like his soul is ascending. This is fun. 

“I can only imagine.” His opponent responds, voice somewhat strained as he directs his next question to the two friends. “So how do you know each other?” 

Harry opens his mouth to make an arrogant comment along the lines of, “A club. A few drinks. Some amazing sex. Y’know, the usual.” but Y/N knows him well enough that she anticipates it, speaking over him loudly before he can even get a syllable out.

“We met at a club and hit it off really well. Been friends ever since.” 

The immortal has to keep himself from adding something snarky to the end of her summary. He only does it because he can see a sharp warning flash across Y/N’s eyes. It’s wordless, but stern nonetheless: Don’t.

Harry swallows down his dig and feels it burn a hole in his stomach. Why is she protecting his feelings?

In all honesty, Y/N is only doing it out of kindness and nothing else. As annoying as Jacob may be, he doesn’t deserve to be embarrassed simply because Harry wants to feed his pride. It may be funny, but it’s pretty immature.

“Right.” Harry sighs happily, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Friends. Good friends. Close friends. Intimate friends.” 

Y/N presses her lips into a straight line to keep herself in check. He’s trying to work her over and, unfortunately, he’s succeeding.  

“That’s nice.” Jacob nods casually, the innuendo luckily going right over his head. 

“Yeah, it is.” Harry states, eyes glinting mischievously as he quickly studies the man once again. He can’t help himself, he truly can’t. Not when this terribly-styled buffoon makes it so fucking easy. “I like your tan, by the way.” 

The human looks down at his arms for significance, eyes brightening. “Thank you! I got it done at that new place in—”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Looks almost real.” 

Jacob blinks blankly at the backhanded compliment. “Oh—?” 

“I mean, it’s got a few streaks here and there and your left arm looks a little more orange, but I think—”

“Anyways!” Y/N swiftly cuts in, interrupting her friend’s judgmental spiel and directing her attention towards her date. “Harry and I were actually planning on going to see a movie, which is why I had to be home by seven-thirty— we do it every Friday. And the movie starts at eight and traffic’s a bitch, so that’s why I was in such a hurry to get home.” 

Jacob nods slowly, giving her a sweet, understanding smile that makes Harry’s supernatural blood boil. “I see. Well, I—”

The vampire interrupts him once again, condescension flaring in his chest and dancing across the specks of amber surrounding his pupils. “Yeah, Y/N and I go to the theater every Friday. Recently, we’ve been going to the movies every single day of the weekend. And most times, we see several movies a night.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenches at Harry’s barely-veiled insinuation. She tries to talk over him, but he beats her to the punch. 

“Y’know what I’m talking about, right, Y/N?” He nudges her side playfully with his elbow, ignoring the way her eyes tell him to cut it out. “Remember that time we saw three movies in one night? Or the one that had the jacuzzi in it?”

The girl glimpses over at Jacob, who looks utterly confused and uncomfortable. “Harry—”

“Or what about that crime film, yeah? The one with the handcuffs.” He pinches at her love handle teasingly, reveling in how her entire torso tenses under his touch. “The one where they grabbed the criminal and slammed them up against the mirror? You have to remember that one. It’s hard to forget.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enough talk about—” 

“Oh, c’mon, dove.” Harry slings an arm around her shoulders nonchalantly, squeezing her into his body and feeling Jacob’s glare pierce the side of his face. He stares intently into Y/N’s irises, dimples winking awake at the needy desperation gradually inking its way into their reflection. His tone comes out soft but heavy with authoritative suggestion— the kind he always uses in bed. “Tell me you remember.” 

Y/N gulps quietly, mumbling her words begrudgingly. “Yeah, I...I remember.” 

A coy hum runs along the back of the vampire’s throat as he licks across his top teeth slyly. “I think that was your favorite one, wasn’t it? You seemed to have really enjoyed it. Like, properly enjoyed it. Loved every single second, if I recall correctly.” 

The human forces herself to cast her intent elsewhere, ears simmering and breathing stuttering ever so slightly. Her sight lands back onto a very frazzled Jacob, who is looking at the pair as if they’d sprouted horns, shifting unsurely across his feet. The expression of innocent befuddlement on his face makes guilt twist into her heart.   

The mortal roughly shrugs off Harry’s arm, stepping forward and placing a palm on Jacob’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you so much for the date. It was...nice.” 

Harry’s fists clench at his sides, though the action goes unnoticed. 

The human boy nods giddily at Y/N, glancing down to where she’s touching him so tenderly. “‘Course! I had a great time, too.” 

“Make sure to tell Isabel that. Maybe it’ll get her to do some sweeping on my behalf.” The girl jokes, giggling softly right along with the stranger. 

Harry can feel his nails threatening to break into his skin. 

“We really have to get going, though, so I guess I’ll see you around?” Y/N prods, gifting her date one last beautiful smile to ease the awkwardness that had settled into the atmosphere, courtesy of Harry’s antics. 

“Sure!” Jacob bobs his head in agreement, pulling out his phone and swaying it symbolically. “You have my number, just text me whenever.” 

“Sounds good.”

Once the young man’s footsteps have faded down the complex’s staircase, Y/N swivels around on her heel to face Harry, arms falling across her chest in an irritated fashion. Her face pinches with annoyance as he leans casually against her door, his own arms folding over his strong chest with his fingers tapping along the inside of his elbows, attitude depicting not a single care in the world. 

He crosses his ankles easily, brows quirking at the way she’s blatantly glaring at him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that people whose names start with a letter ‘J’ are bound to ruin your life?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry!” Y/N snaps, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling as her glossed lips dip into an aggravated grimace. “Are you serious right now?”

He tilts his head curiously, stifling a simper. “What’s wrong, love?”

“What’s wrong?” She retorts with a humorless laugh, astonished at his ability to act so purposefully dense. “You’re a fucking dick, that’s what’s wrong.”

The vampire sputters into a round of boyish cackling, his entire body shaking against the surface below him as his eyes crinkle shut in mirth. Y/N would be further infuriated if it wasn’t so damn cute. 

Harry’s laughter slowly dies down and once he has himself composed, his shoulders rise and fall once dismissively. “I was just fucking around. I didn’t think much of it.” 

“You didn’t think—?” Y/N chokes out in indignation, stomping over to him and poking him straight in the chest, right over his butterfly tattoo. Her perfume makes his mind swim in the best way imaginable. “You didn’t think for a second, in that big head of yours, that talking about our sex life in front of my date was overstepping?” 

Hearing Y/N officially refer to Jacob as her date makes Harry’s mood drop somberly. He tries to push it down and keep up a comical edge, but it’s harder than he’d care to admit. His accent comes out small and almost fragile, much to her surprise. “Well, I didn’t know you were on a date. Maybe if you had told me, I wouldn’t have come.” 

His words sting for some unknown reason. 

The mortal draws closer to him until he’s hovering above her, arms dropping down to her sides to fiddle with the hem of her dress as she tilts her chin upwards to get a better look at his stoney face. All anger melts right out of her voice, replaced by her usual delicate cadence. “Well, I...I didn’t think you’d care, really.” 

“I don’t.” He replies a little too quickly, a small pang of regret pricking his chest when her face immediately falls. “I mean...I mean it as in, like...I’m not keeping tabs on you or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to limit you.” 

Y/N looks back up at him from under her lashes, tone unreadable. “I didn’t think you were. Limiting me, that is. You don’t...limit me.”

Harry nods his head sharply in relieved confirmation, coughing a bit. His throat feels drier than usual and he knows it’s not for a blood-driven reason. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I do.”

“Alright.” 

A charged silence befalls the ambiance between them and the vampire comes to the conclusion that getting his neck snapped was less painful than having this conversation. At least that was quick, whereas this is grueling and horribly uncomfortable, ridden with anxiety and too many elongated pauses. They are walking on extremely thin eggshells around one another, which is something they’ve never had to do before. They have always been on the same wavelength about their relationship and not once has such a nerve-inducing instance come to pass. Now a wrench has been thrown into their metaphorical mechanism and the nuts and bolts are dismantling by the handfuls, leaving them barren and closed-off more than ever. He can feel this situation straining their friendship and he hates it more than he hates those stupid tapestries she fancies.

“If you knew you were gonna be busy,” Harry starts carefully, gluing his attention to a random stain on the cement ground as he scuffs the heel of his boot against her dirty welcome mat, “why didn’t you just text me and cancel?” 

Y/N takes a shaky inhale, focusing on tracing the faded cursive letters on her rug. “I...I still wanted you to come.”

Harry’s foot halts its motions, gaze jumping to her for a thoughtful second, brows knotting with mild confusion at her confession. If she still wants him in her bed, why was she indulging someone else? “You wanted me to come?...Why?”

“Because Fridays are our days.” 

The corners of his mouth twitch. Our days. Their days. Theirs.

The brunette clears his throat to try and saw away at the tension, shifting against the door as the subject delves into heavier territory. He’s never been one to stutter— he’s much too confident in himself to ever have that issue— but it seems to have become a new development whenever Y/N is around. “If...If you want— uhm...If you want to see other people, you obviously don’t need my permission or anything. But I’d like a little heads-up, just so I know where we stand.” 

Y/N releases a curt sigh of exasperation and somehow, Harry can tell it’s not aimed towards him. It’s aimed towards herself. 

She fidgets with the tips of her fingers, talking to the floor but directing her message towards her friend. “It’s not what you think, H.” 

Harry pins his intent back onto her face, intrigue fully peaked. “What do you mean?” 

Y/N takes another trembling breath, releasing it through her nose as a tired exhale. She can feel him looming over her, waiting for an appropriate response with his lips set into a detached line, his ever-present aroma of vanilla and tobacco muddling her thoughts. “I...I mean the date. It wasn’t truly a real date, per se.”

The vampire’s eyes bore into her relentlessly as he clings onto every syllable she speaks. He’s clutching to a form of hope that he deems absolutely humiliating. “How so?”

Y/N picks at the chipping lavender polish on her nails and he finds it adorable how the color of the lacquer matches one of the main notes in her scent. 

She speaks up softly and honestly, and he thinks he detects a shred of guilt to her explanation. “Isabel was the one who set it up. Her cousin came into the cafe and when he saw me, he asked her to get me to go on a date with him. I have no actual interest in Jacob, but I said yes just to be nice. I didn’t wanna upset Isabel by making her think her cousin wasn’t good enough for me or something. That’s the only reason I went.” 

Harry slowly twists his lionhead daylight ring around his middle finger, simultaneously thumbing over the opal on his pinky. The stone is cold to the touch, but not nearly as cold as his skin. 

He reiterates her story slowly, wanting to make sure he interpreted correctly. “So...you only went on the date because you felt bad? You don't actually like him?”

Y/N’s hands plop down against her thighs as she tilts her head back up to look at him, her tone and eyes completely deadpan. “Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound kind of mean.” 

Harry snorts softly, mouth buckling into his signature crooked smirk. “It’s pretty cruel, to be honest— giving that poor bloke hope like that. Very malicious of you.” 

Y/N kicks at his ankle jokingly, her lips toying with a grin. “Shut up.” 

“You should be careful. Something tells me his ego bruises easily.” 

“Oh, is that so? What makes you say that?” 

The vampire sucks at his teeth, tapping his chin in faux thought as he shrugs his brows tauntingly. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably the overly-tight shirt and fraternity ring. Seems to me like he’s trying to make up for something he lacks. Probably in the intimacy department.”

Y/N chews along her cheek to keep from bursting into giggles. “You are cruel.” 

“I prefer the term ‘brutally honest.’ Sounds classier.” 

“Right. Because you’re all about class.” 

“Heyyyy!” Harry whines in exaggerated insult, face contorting with dramatic offense. “I’m a classy guy! I have the English accent and fancy chandeliers to prove it!” 

“Right. Super classy.” 

“I’m a proper gentleman.” The monster huffs with begrudging finality, irises glitzing deviously. ���That is, until you beg me to behave otherwise.” 

“Fuck off.” 

He looks down at her over the crests of his sharp cheekbones as she gazes up at him with a humorously flat expression, feeling all the pent-up stress from the previous events dissolve away into nothing. Harry reaches forward, taking a single curled strand of her hair and moving it behind her shoulder to get a better look at her face. The gesture makes Y/N’s heartbeat hiccup. Especially when that same forefinger ends up poised below her chin, his thumb distractedly caressing across her jaw. 

The creature’s next sentence comes out low and almost vulnerable. “So it meant nothing, then? Are you sure? Because I don’t want to get in the way of your dating life if you—”

“It meant nothing.” Y/N confirms, bobbing her head once insistently. She cradles her cheek into his icy palm, keeping their eyes locked as she gives it a gentle kiss, her insides fluttering when Harry’s breathing hitches. “I’m not gonna be seeing him again anytime soon. Or ever, probably. And that’s why I didn’t mention it to you— because I knew it wouldn’t change anything between us. You’re the only person I’m interested in right now.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

The young man swallows thickly, leaning down to smudge his nose across the girl’s and the action erupts a certain flood of warmth so powerful, it could very well kickstart the dead organ below his ribs. His voice is tumbling down his numb tongue before he can think to stop it. “I’ve been thinking about you all week.” 

Y/N’s fingers stretch upwards to wrap around his wrist securely, almost as if to tether him and eliminate the chance of his touch slipping away. Her whisper is trembly and raw. “You have?” 

Harry knows he’s allowing this to wade into dangerously grey waters, but he can’t find it in himself to care, at the moment. “Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you felt last time.” 

The mortal teeters onto the tips of her toes, flirting her mouth over her friend’s, a prickling sensation stemming from where their cupid’s bows brush. She glimpses at him amidst her lashes, glassy eyes reflecting his need right back at him. “Tell me more. Please?”

The breath of Harry’s words is hot against her mouth, his eyes lulling closed as he recalls all of the memories from the last few days. “I just couldn’t shake it. You were just so tight and warm and the way you were pushing back against my thrusts...the way you were shaking and whimpering...the way you flipped around and slammed your mouth to mine because you wanted me to moan onto your tongue….It was so fucking filthy, I just— I couldn’t—”

His control begins to shatter and the immortal can feel desperation leak through the cracks webbing across his composure. Y/N isn’t helping any, considering she’s started suckling lightly at his bottom lip, her free hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Keep going.” 

Harry gulps heavily before continuing. “I touched myself while fantasying about you. Lost count of how many times, honestly. But I came so hard every single one. It was pretty easy to lose myself like that, just sitting there thinking about everything we do. Thinking about how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, taking it down your throat like such a good fucking girl. How nice your arse feels in my hands, especially when you ask me to spank it. How snug you are when you sink over me, stretching around it like it’s made just for you. How the little noises you make sound so fucking perfect— like a song, really. And...and how good you taste between your thighs. S’like honey. Just so fucking sweet.” 

There’s a pause as Harry’s words sink into the air, his dirty confessions pulling passion taut into existence between the two lovers. They’re all over each other in less than a heartbeat. 

Y/N begins to fumble with the small purse she has strung across her body, frantically fishing for her keys as Harry delights himself with sponging his lips across the slope of her jaw, grinning into her skin at the little curses escaping her throat. He absolutely adores how whipped she gets for him. 

The human manages to retrieve her key, jamming it into the lock blindly as her eyes blur with tears of sheer need, stemming from the tiny shots of bliss Harry is instilling through the sloppy pecks he’s trailing down her jugular. She hastily turns the knob, bumping her full weight into the door and nearly fainting in relief when it swings open. She turns sharply to face him, roping her arms around his strong shoulders and pulling him into her, shuddering at how incredible it feels to have his strong torso flushed to hers so intimately. Harry allows himself to be yanked forward into her apartment, giggling softly when she crashes their mouths together messily, harshly tugging him past the threshold. 

The vampire’s lean arms wrap around her waist as the young woman maneuvers their connected bodies into the narrow hallway of her flat, one of her hands waving around wildly until it succeeds in shoving the door shut. Y/N slams Harry up against the closest wall, feverishly fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt and nearly ripping them out of their designated holes. Her hands quiver as she races down the seams, her eyes tinging darker when Harry leans his head back against the panel and smirks down at her smugly. 

He gnaws on his bottom lip, his half-lidded gaze mocking her hysteria as his voice comes out deep and melodic as always, slathered with self-assured arrogance. “You’re so cute when you’re this eager to fuck me.” 

Y/N pants against his twitching lips, tearing his top down his broad figure and shamelessly groping at his swollen biceps. “Just shut up and kiss me.”  

Harry abides, lulling his tongue along her upper lip and thrumming deeply when her digits trickle down his abdomen. He coos into her mouth as she begins fiddling with his belt buckle. “What, no interior design emergency this time? You’re losing your touch, darling.” 

The girl pulls the leather strap off his pants in a frenzy, scoffing at his stupid quip and breaking their kiss to speckle her mouth down his bare chest, feeling it stutter below her influence. “I got some new chairs for my dining table. Wanna take a look?” 

The boy’s fingers card into her roots as she descends down his stomach with wet pecks, his eyes rolling closed with a strained grunt. She bites along his fern inkings and his hips buck forward in response, his grip on her hair tightening when she palms over the outline of his clothed cock. “You know I’m always a sucker for some good dining chairs.”

As it turns out, Y/N had actually gotten some new chairs, much to Harry’s surprise. 

They’re nice, in his opinion. They seem sturdy enough, with metal backrests and legs that are covered in tarnished gold paint that gives a pleasing rustic look. But in the end, Harry doesn’t really much care for the details of the furniture. All he cares about is if they’ll manage to withstand Y/N’s weight as he shoves her onto her knees atop the chair and bends her over the back. Or if they’ll stay put as he pounds into her from behind with a fist in her hair and his letter rings marking across her backside. That’s all that truly matters. 

Despite having done this countless of times before, this particular instance feels different. Both of them can tell, but Y/N feels it more prevalently. Specifically, in the bottom of her stomach and in the pain sweltering across her ass.

Harry’s just…rougher. He’s still himself, so he makes sure she’s okay with everything he does before doing it, but when he gets the green light, he doesn’t let it go to waste. His grip on her roots is harsh, with his nails digging into her scalp as he jerks her head back to bring her in for a kiss, her spine arching into a semi-circle. The position is difficult given the amount of flexibility required, but Y/N powers through. She quite likes it, actually— it gives him a deeper range of depth, somehow. She can feel him touching the trench of her tummy and she refuses to do anything that might make that stop.

The kiss is upside down, but the vampire doesn’t let that deter him. It’s still dirty and heedless, with lots of biting and overzealous tongues, broken whines and fractured pleas. Y/N freely moans into his mouth, gasping and mewling to his every thrust with a certain type of helplessness that flogs the flames blistering Harry’s dormant veins. He loves that he makes her feel helpless, especially because she makes him feel the exact same way. 

His stride is fast and deep and unapologetic— vengeful, almost, and they both know why. Even though Y/N had told the creature that the date had been nothing but a selfless chore, he can’t seem to let it go as easily as she had. He finds himself wanting to prove to her that he’s better than that insipid stranger. That he can give her everything she wants without a single issue. That he can deliver everything she needs with expert skill and relentless force, just as she prefers. That he can make her entire body tremble in overstimulation and make every fiber of her being tingle with sheer pleasure, just by gifting her a few adamant snaps of his hips and by muttering a couple filthy promises onto her unfeeling tongue. 

“Bet he wouldn’t be able to make you feel like this, huh, pet?” Harry growls against her swollen lips, plunging his thick length into her and nudging at that sweet spot that makes her toes curl. “Bet he wouldn’t know how to handle you— how to handle that tight cunt and that sharp tongue. Could never take care of you the way I do, isn’t that right, baby?” 

Y/N rattles her head in her friend’s grasp, releasing fragmented noises of bliss as he hikes her dress further up her ass and gives it another brutal spank. She can feel his rings imprinting across her sweaty skin and she strives off it more than she should. 

Her voice comes out garbled and weak. “N-No one can make me feel as good as you.” 

“Damn straight.” Harry grits out, breaking their prolonged kiss to rest his chin against her damp forehead, looking down at her from over his sharp, tinted cheekbones. “Nobody can fuck you into a begging mess like I can. Whose pretty cunt is this, angel? Who’s the only one who gets to call you their little slut?” 

The electricity crackling around his pupils is borderlining on unhinged, but she adores it. The fact that she can drive him to the brink like that feeds the affinity she has to win his praise. “It’s yours, Harry. Just yours— it’s always just you. You’re the only one. Nobody e-else— fuck, oh my God!”

“You got all dolled up for him, though. Why’s that’s, hm?” Harry’s hold releases from her hair and fumbles down to her throat, the pads of his fingers leaving bruises across her jugular as he grunts lowly with every hellbent ram. “If you didn’t care, why’d you get all pretty, then? Why’d you wear perfume? And why’d you wear that dress— my dress?”

Y/N’s lashes flutter as he refers to her outfit, which is the same one she’d had on the day they had officially established their loose arrangement. Hearing him call it his— hearing him claim it as his own with so much dominant confidence— makes the pit of her belly froth. It is his. Sure, she’d worn it for the sake of looking presentable, but it was only to satisfy the basic rules of what a date entails. In truth, under the excuse of inherent kindness, she’d worn it because she knew Harry would see it afterwards. Because she knew he liked it. Because she wanted to please him. 

The girl communicates that to him now in the form of a feathery mumble, staring up at his angered eyes with a moony, innocent aura. “I wore it f-for you.”  

The intense jealousy present in Harry’s clenched jaw and furrowed brows dissipates, replaced by soft awe at her wispy affirmation. He pants as he absorbs the real meaning behind her entire appearance, feeling sparks ignite in his heaving chest. “You...You did it for me?” 

Y/N struggles to swallow in his rough grip, nodding a bit as her fingers tighten around the edge of the chair. “I know you like it and, well…I like making you happy.” 

Harry’s lips part in astonished wonder, though he’s not so sure why her admission had caught him off guard. She’s told him plenty of times that she likes giving him what he wants, but this just feels slightly more personal than anything else she’s ever uttered during an orgasmic stupor. It’s tipping along one of the lines they had sworn not to cross. 

The vampire hadn’t even realized his strokes had tapered to a halt, and apparently neither had she. They’re both too busy looking into each other’s eyes with expressions that neither can decipher. The tense pause only lasts maybe three seconds at most, but it feels like they manage to fit an eternity of uncertain silence within that short time frame. 

Harry cuts through the moment by clearing his throat, intent on changing the subject into something much lighter that will allow them to return to their previous activity. However, the words that rasp out of his raw lips are ones he hadn’t consciously consented to. They come from a sincere nature he’d suppressed for so long, he didn’t think it was possible for it to ever resurface again. “I like making you happy, too.”

Y/N blinks up at him with her usual doe-like air, the corners of her lips twitching fondly at his requited compliment. “I guess we just like making each other happy, then, don’t we?” 

The monster has never been more thankful for her witty personality. It gives him the opportunity to stuff his emotions back into the box they belong, allowing him to regain his typical composure and return her banter without a hitch. He bursts into a round of wheezy giggles, tapping at the hollow of her throat playfully. “I guess so. We’ll add that to the list of things we do to each other, right under ‘excite.’”

The rest of the session goes as usual, thankfully. Some more degrading names are exchanged, positions are switched, hickies are stained on fleshy thighs and damp shoulders, and Harry’s array of rings paint an art piece across Y/N’s backside that he thinks is worthy of the Louvre. His initials are signed on it and everything. 

The pair end up splayed across her trusty old couch, catching their breaths from the heavy exertion they’d just put each other through. Y/N is still in her dress, though it’s rumpled, damp, and the thin straps are hanging off her shoulders limply. Harry is bare, as he always is after sex, per his raunchy preference. However, Y/N had made him cover himself with a blanket in order to keep at least a shred of decency between them. Plus, she’d said she didn’t want his “limp dick brushing against my dress while we cuddle.” 

And that’s what they’re doing now— snuggling on her couch with the human pressed up against the vampire’s side, his arm slung around her shoulders casually as she doodles random shapes across the colored skin of his tummy. She has one leg hooked across his covered hips, which he’s more than happy to allow because he thoroughly enjoys rubbing his palm up and down the back of her thigh; it’s soothing and warm. Y/N entertains herself with nuzzling her head against the crook of his neck, sighing contentedly as he props his chin atop her temple and pets at her frizzy hair with gentle strokes. It’s a nice moment, full of slowly steadying breaths and the hum of the air vent at the other end of the room. 

Harry is the first to break the tranquil atmosphere. 

“I give the chairs a ten out of ten. IKEA really outsold.” 

Y/N slaps her hand down against his naked chest, sputtering into a wave of loud laughter that is unbelievably contagious. “I’m happy you like them ‘cause, uh...they were on clearance. Can’t return them.” 

“You lucked out then, didn’t you? Kudos to your ability to pick out decent furniture.” Harry twirls a strand of her tangled locks around his index finger, giving it a playful tug as a grin dimples his flushed cheeks. “Except for when it comes to wall decor.”

“It’s not my fault you're a stuck-up asshole.” 

“And it’s not my fault you have a knack for cringey drapery depicting ClipArt images.” 

“I’m going to strangle you with one of my tapestries, I really am.”

“Be my guest. At least I won’t have to look at them ever again.” The immortal squeezes her thigh jestingly, his smile widening when she squirms and giggles. “I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been fucking and I accidentally glanced at it and almost went soft.” 

“But you didn’t.” She reasons, flicking at one of his nipples in revenge and feeling proud when he hisses softly. 

“But I could have.”

“But you didn’t.” 

“But I could have.” Harry insists stubbornly, reaching up to push a few wet curls out of his tired eyes. “Have you ever had someone go soft inside you? It’s pretty gross. Highly discourage it.”

“Just close your eyes, then.” Y/N states with finality, pinching at his belly button and cackling in satisfaction when he writhes. “You’re real shitty at solving problems, y’know that? You could never be Sherlock.” 

Harry goes quiet for a second and his friend almost looks up to check if he’s alright; he’s too petty to ever back out of anything. But sure enough, his voice comes out a second later, flat and unyielding. “Take down the glorified curtains or I’m never eating you out again.”

“I’ll take down my glorified curtains the day you take down that Stevie Nicks poster on your wall.” 

“I refuse to take down Stevie!”

“And I refuse to take down Amanda!”

“You named it?!”

The lovers chat and bicker childishly for a while longer, talking about anything and everything that will keep them entertained. Harry explains to Y/N how his friends had gone on a trip this week (though he makes sure to omit the fact that he had willingly bailed in order to spend time with her) and he’d been alone most of the time. She responds to his story with an incredulous yelp, telling him that he should’ve come over if he wanted some company. She says she would have been more than happy to hang out with him, but he knows she’d been so busy the entire week with work, she probably would have fallen asleep within ten minutes of him arriving. It’s the thought that counts, though, so he thanks her for the belated support, either way. 

Y/N talks about a weird customer that had come in and ordered a sandwich with nothing but cucumbers and cheddar cheese on French bread, which she had later recreated to taste-test herself out of curiosity. She can confirm it was abhorrent and the way her nose crinkles with disgust makes Harry snort in endearment. She also tells him about how horribly the date with Jacob had gone, simply because she can tell he’s itching to ask. She recounts everything the young man boasted about, from the annoying college stories to his stupid opinion about clubs. She informs him that she’d never had a more terrible experience in her life and that she wishes she could get that hour of her life back. 

Harry can’t help the way his face lights up at how utterly repulsed she sounds. He knew it. He fucking knew she would never insert herself into a romantic situation with such a comedic punchline of a human being. Hearing her confirm his suspicions is almost as pleasurable as what she can do with her mouth. Almost. 

The vampire finds himself lost in his thoughts, thinking about how much better the whole event would have gone if it had been him instead. How he would have picked her up from her flat by actually getting out of the car and knocking on her door, rather than just sending her a text to come down. How he would have helped her into his car like a proper gentleman, and how he would’ve aided her back out when the time came. How he would enter the restaurant with his palm resting at the dip of her back, guiding the girl towards their seats and pulling out a chair for her. How they’d make conversation as easily as they always do, and how he’d have her laughing between mouthfuls of food, and how he’d expertly flirt her into a fidgety puddle. How he’d reach over the table to get a bit of sauce off the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin, and how she’d thank him with that shy smile he’d grown to admire. How he’d wave off her suggestion to split the bill, paying it all himself and smirking as she scolds him for it because she likes being hard-headed and independent. How much fun she would actually have, and how she would probably be willing to go out on a second date.  

Harry’s comment topples out of his mouth before he can rethink it. 

“I bet I could take you out on a better date.” 

Y/N’s head snaps upwards to meet his gaze, eyebrows jumping in utter shock. She hadn’t been expecting that from him at all. Ever. 

She talks between airy spurts of glee. “That was random.” 

Harry doesn’t return the gesture. In fact, his lips don’t even jolt in the slightest. He simply just stares down at her with seriousness decorating his features, long lashes blinking blankly. He doesn’t know what overcame him to make such a bizarre, uncalled for claim, but he can’t take it back now. And he’s not so sure he wants to, honestly. He knows there’s truth to his belief— he could definitely do a better job of wooing her than that Jesse McCartney wannabe. It’s not like it’s hard.

Aside from that, seeing Y/N out with another man had reminded Harry that their little alliance isn’t anything solid— it’s not bulletproof, and he really shouldn’t be taking it for granted. He’d been so cocky and self-assured about himself and what he has to offer, he’d forgotten that there is always the possibility that Y/N might grow tired of him. It may be a microscopic possibility, but it exists, nonetheless. If he wants to keep her interested, he has to up his game a bit, or she might decide that he isn’t worth keeping around. If he wishes to maintain this favorable arrangement where he gets his intimate tendencies tailored and his supernatural necessities sufficed, he needs to give her a more fulfilling reason to stay. 

Good sex is a very convincing factor, sure, but there might come a time in her life when she wants more than just a no-strings-attached affair. There may come a time when she’ll mature out of this stage and seek something sturdier and safe and anchored. There may come a time when she wants a real relationship, and if he doesn’t keep her occupied, that could be sooner rather than later. And it could be with someone else. He doesn’t want this convenience taken away from him— doesn’t want to lose the thing they have going, which keeps him out of annoying clubs, out of random people’s beds, and gives him the best blood he’s tasted in the last twenty decades. It’s too comfortable and satisfying to let go. He has to keep her hooked somehow, and if taking her on a date can assure that this flawless dream remains intact, then he’ll gladly do it. 

Harry licks his lips slowly, measuring out his next words with immense precision. “I’m being serious. I can definitely do better.” 

A million emotions funnel into Y/N’s eyes at once and he can only pick out a select few: confusion, astonishment, fear, denial, and slight unease. There is the chance that the monster may be interpreting all of the human’s feelings incorrectly because, truth be told, he isn’t the best at gauging or handling sentiments. However, there is one he knows he’s not misjudging— it’s the most evident one of all: Excitement. 

“Think about it for a second, yeah?” Harry starts, shifting in his seat to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows decisively. “I’ve already gotten in your pants. That means I have no ulterior motive, right?”

Y/N’s own brows kink a smidge. “I...I guess.”

Her friend continues his speech. “Because of that, it means I won’t rush the date, I won’t expect anything from you, and we already get on pretty well, as it is. It’d be a proper good time— a genuine good time.”

The girl’s eyes flicker around different points of his face, trying to make sure he’s not pulling some type of cruel prank. Her tone comes out hesitant and slow. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

Harry squeezes the back of her thigh reassuringly. “It’s all in mathematics, love; everything adds up. It’s truly an ideal situation, if you ask me. Practically utopian.” 

Y/N takes a deep breath, letting it out shakily. This is all so sudden and unexpected, she feels like Harry might burst into laughter any minute and reveal it’s all just a big joke. It’s just not them. It’s out of bound— it scribbles outside the box drawn around their whole dynamic. They were never meant to date, they were just meant to sleep together; they were meant to provide each other with the satisfaction that comes from a real relationship, without all the trials and tribulations. Harry asking her on a date blurs those sacred boundaries in a way she’s not sure she’s ready to face. It could mess everything up. It could not only ruin the fun little arrangement they have going, but it could potentially destroy their entire friendship. Harry is the only person she’s truly connected with since she moved to Los Angeles and risking that bond on an impulsive decision...That’s something she doesn’t think she can afford to do. She can’t survive her new life on her own. This is just too dangerous. Way too dangerous. 

But then again...it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it before. She will admit, there have been instances where she’s pictured her and Harry becoming more than just warm bodies to each other. The two days she spent over at his house the weekend prior had solidified those fantasies and made them more frequent. They just click so well, she knows for a fact they’d make a great team. It’d be like dating a best friend, in a way. They fit one another in a manner she didn’t think was possible, and despite the fact they’ve only been acquainted for just over a month and a half, it feels like they’ve been friends for years. She feels like these types of connections are rare to create and she finds herself wishing it could develop into more. 

But could it really be worth the potential grievance?

Y/N tunes back into reality, gazing up at Harry with reluctant eyes. She’s surprised to find his are full of confident clarity, as if he’s already sold on the idea and had begun planning their outing. He’s simply awaiting her response at this point, thumbing over her knee gently while tucking her hair behind her ear, lips poised into that lopsided simper that makes her heart skip and her nerves glitch. How could she possibly find it in herself to say no to him? 

The mortal clears her throat lightly, gnawing into her cheek as she speaks her next words with airy humor. “So is that your official way of asking me out? ‘Cause if so, that’s not enough. You’re gonna have to do better, love.”

Harry hesitates for a split second, but it’s so fast, his friend doesn’t even take notice. He prays he doesn’t grow to regret this decision. 

The boy nods, pursing his mouth into a small smile. 

“I’m sorry, I don't think I heard you? Must be the AC.” 

Harry rolls his eyes grandly at the stolen joke, which is identical to one he had made two weeks ago when he’d come over for their usual adult pastime and had brought a special toy in tow. 

His mood comes out theatrical, accent heavily exaggerated. “Dear fair maiden, would you be so kind as to do me the impeccable honor of allowing me to bask in your presence by attending a luncheon with me, preferably sometime in the near future? Thank you so much for your consideration. Sincerely signed...” The creature takes a pause, proceeding to sing his next words to the tune of a song they are both familiar with, given their interest in the Hamilton play. “Your Obedient Servant, H dot Styles.” 

Y/N explodes into a series of giggles, shaking her head as she reaches up to peck at his grinning lips. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles series #vampire!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #vampire!au #harry styles #1d fanfiction #harry styles dirty one shot #1d fic #one direction fanfiction #one direction smut #one direction fic #1d smut #ysijwa #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles blurbs #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry x reader #harry styles au #vampire au

[bokettochild]

Talking is Overrated

Whumptober Day 2: Choking

No apologies. Someone posted about this the other day and I figured we deserved to see it for ourselves!

Legend POV, but don't worry guys, this is Warriors Whump!

(Do not call the Protection Squad on me, I have a permit)

Wind was tugging the captain’s scarf again.

It wasn’t an unusual sight to see really, many of the younger heroes did such things while they traveled, or when they made camp. It was an effective way of getting the captain’s attention, Legend would give it that. Even Time did it, and not even with the hesitant caution that most of the others did, their Old Man just reached over and tugged (Legend could swear there was a glint in the man's eye whenever he did it too). Of course, Time was the only one of the older ones who did it, and while Legend just barely counted with the other ‘adult’ heroes, he wasn’t among those who’d tug the blue fabric gently.

Step on it on occasion, yes, but tugging to get the man’s attention? Heck no! He wasn’t a child!

Wind tugged again. Wind was a kid. It was fine for him to do it, and Legend pointedly ignored the warmth in his chest at the sight of the sailor’s bright grin as it was directed at the captain. Ringed fingers rubbed over the affected area as he trailed along near the back of their group with Hyrule, earning a curious glance but otherwise remaining un-noticed as the captain turned his attentions to the young sailor.

“What’s up, Tu- Wind?” ‘Tune’, they called him, Ravio and the captain both. He’d asked once, but neither had explained much more than it being from ‘the war’.

“I think Sky is tiring out, could we-” The sailor’s face twisted up into a frown and he shook himself, rephrasing his question from whatever it had been. “Could you ask Time if we could stop? He’s more likely to listen to you.” Because Time always listened to Warriors. Okay, well, he paid attention. The old Man ignored what was said altogether sometimes, but he never dismissed it right off. He did the same with Twilight, but somehow it felt more mature when the mentor and protégé were the one’s involved.

The captain nodded, lengthening his already freakishly long stride to match that of Time, Wind trailing behind and still attached to the scarf. “Time, mind if we break a minute? Sky’s having trouble breathing again.”

The Skyloftain in question offered a weak smile when the others turned to him, and Legend ignored the clenching in his chest at the heavy cough that erupted from the older hero. “Dust.” Sky explained apologetically.

“It does seem to be mid-summer in this world.” Twilight agreed with an encouraging look at he offered the Chosen Hero his canteen. “What do you say, Time? Day’s still young, think a break will hurt our travel time?”

Well, that was just dumb. They didn’t even know where they were, much less where they were going. There was no deadline and no goal here, stopping to let Sky rest would be perfectly manageable. He sent their leader a look saying as much, and Time met his gaze with a nod, turning to his protégé and Sky both with an easy smile. “I don’t see how that would hurt. Sky, can you make the next hill or should we stop now?”

“Now.” Came the apologetic wheeze. “I don’t think I could handle any kind of-” Another cough cut him off as Twilight gently thumped the other's back (well, gently for Twilight; Sky was strong and could take it, but had that been him he’d be face down in the dirt). “Climbing is bad.” Sky finally pushed out, rubbing at his throat and grimacing.

“Right then.” The boundry was set, Sky was done, so they needed to rest. “Let’s settle here for an hour or so.” Time slung his own pack to the ground and stretched his shoulders with a grimace. “It’s getting into the hotter part of the day anyway, so we might as well save ourselves some sweat for the time being. Keep alert though, boys, we still don’t know where we are.”

The others nodded, but Twilight made as if to respond, only to be cut off by a firm look from his mentor. “No, Twilight, no scouting. Your ankles are still a mess from that accident last week and I’m not having you wander off alone again.”

“Pops, I’m fine-”

“Watch Hyrule.” Time commanded, soft but stern as he nodded to the traveler.

Well excuse him! Legend was doing a fine job of watching his own protégé, thank you very much! He didn’t need the overgrown wolf-puppy helping him out. Of course, he huffed to himself as Twilight wandered over, looking a bit lost and very restless, it wasn’t as though Twilight had another way to channel his nervous energy, and maybe letting someone else hold the kid while he changed the bandages on Hyrule’s hands would make things easier.

He’d only just removed the bandages and washed the burns before he caught wind of it, long ears flickering tentatively at the new sound that cut through the air.

Horses.

The shriek of a wild pony caught the attention of all present, whether they even knew what it was they were hearing or not, and Twilight was already bundling Hyrule into his arms and ducking into the brush at the sound, leaving him frozen in place, muscles coiled and bandages still in hand as his ears flicked to and fro to find the source of the sound.

A herd of wild ponies, bobolinks mounted on their backs with spears in hand, crested the nearby hill, spilling down and around it in a wild and aimless charge until their riders caught sight of the heroes. The sound of a horn was the warning for them to gather their weapons, and seven out of their nine were ready for battle in an instant as Twilight hunkered down with the still injured Hyrule. The kid’s eyes were wide as he curled tight in Twilight’s arms, the both of them trying to hide behind one of the groups spare shields that Twilight had grabbed.

Legend really hoped that wasn’t one of Wild’s.

The horses were on them in an instant, hooves and teeth and jabbing spears making them all dash and dart out of rang, weapons drawn and ready to be used. It made his chest clench and something inside feel like it was tearing when he had to swing his blade against the terror-filled ponies, their eyes rolling wildly as they bucked and sprang, trying both to dismount their monstrous riders and to escape the noise of the battle. The poor things didn’t deserve this, but it wasn’t as if many of them had a choice when it came to downing the horses or letting them continue to trample over the top of them.

Silver and gold flashed as black and red blood both had spilled over the hill side that had been so peacefully serene only minutes before. In the corner of his vision, blue fluttered and waves in the battle, likely Warriors’ Din darned scarf as the captain danced over the field.

The pony before him reared on its hind legs, hooves pawing at the air and froth gathering at its jaws as the bokoblin on its back continued to kick and shriek, only further adding the beast's terror.

Malanya forgive him, he’d clenched his jaw tight and pushed back his feelings as he thrust his sword into the beast's chest, rolling away as the four-hundred pounds of horse fell to the ground, crushing it’s rider beneath it and giving him ample time to slice of the ‘blin’s head off before turn to face the rest of the field. Many of the other horses had either dislodged their riders or otherwise had them shot down by Wild’s swift arrows, and the poor beasts were running free down the path, kicking up more dust than the nine of them had earlier in their flight from the battle field. A few more lay dead on the earth, ‘blins and weapons lying around about them and making the battle all the more difficult with the increased tripping hazard that they caused.

There were still four ponies in their midst though, and more bokoblins besides, and Legend pushed himself forwards to where Four was fighting alone against a few of them, determined to finish this bloody fight already so he could get back to tending his protégé's crispy fingers.

He didn’t know what it was that made him look up, not when he was supposed to be helping Four, not when the enemy was still fighting strongly against them, but he did, and when he did all of the breath stuttered from his lungs with a strangled gasp.

Across the field, a bokoblin had managed to snag the captain’s fluttering blue scarf, holding it tight as the monster’s pony bucked and shrieked, tugging the fabric tight around the hero’s neck as Warriors clawed at the straining fabric.

The captain’s sword had since fallen, to where he couldn’t tell, but with every pull and tug of the scarf, every prance and shift of the pony’s feet, the fabric drew tighter and tighter, and Warriors’ face grew redder and redder.

“Warriors!” Wind shout from across the field startled all of them, but it was the final straw for the poor pony, who bolted, her rider still clutching both the poorly cobbled reins and Warriors’ scarf both tightly in hand, effectively knocking the captain down to the dirt and dragging him behind stampeding hooves as Warriors’ fingers fluttered against the fabric, face as blue as the favored garment and eyes glazing over as rocks and weapons clanged against the man’s pauldron.

Legend was kicking his pegasus boots into action before his mind even rightly knew what he was doing, and despite Four’s angry shouts and frankly astounding insults (really, and they called his mouth dirty!) he’d sped off after the horse, rider, and quickly fading captain.

Each step felt like lead was weighing him down as he pushed all of his strength into his legs, pushing forwards and angling himself towards his goal, eyes fixed on the slowly fading light in the captain’s eyes. Just a bit further, a yard, two feet, a foot. He could touch Warriors’ boot now if he wanted, his tunic, the belt at his waist. At long last, he was level with the pony’s thundering hooves, and without a second thought, the Tempered Sword was slashing through blood-stained blue fabric, the captain’s body rolling in the dirt beside him as the veteran hero stuttered to a halt.

The sword clattered to the ground as he’d fallen to his knees at the older man’s side, fingers fumbling at the tangled fabric and tugging ruthlessly to free his friend.

Angry black and purple bruises banded Warriors’ neck, harsh and angry as the tiniest wheeze of breath had escaped the man.

“Wars, hey, stay with me.” His voice quivered when he spoke, no matter how he tried to fight it, but there was no reply.

“Warriors! You darned idiot! Open those stupid baby-blues!” He’d huffed it with more force this time, himself wheezing for breath at the unexpected run as he worked to loosen the captain’s shirt collar more.

What did one do for a strangulation victim? What did one do for the head wounds that leaked blood onto the dirt beath the captain’s golden hair?

The contents of Legend’s stomach churned in revulsion at the sight of the crimson liquid, and he fought back a gag as his hands had fluttered over the unmoving form of the other, unsure, worried, bordering very nearly on panic as he tried to figure out what to do.

Warriors lay unmoving.

The captain couldn’t die though! Not his brother! Not the snarky ass he liked to pick on and- oh heavens... The last thing he’d said to Wars this morning had been an insult, hadn’t it? He’d insulted the scarf, calling the man a ‘bloody idiot’ for wearing it all the time knowing full well how much it meant to his brother. Oh, stars above, he couldn’t let that be the last thing he’d said to the man’s face! He couldn’t-

Blackened fingers settled over his own, resting easily on Warriors’ chest as he’d stared up, vision blurry as it took in brown curls and glimmering golden green eyes. He didn’t know when his vision had blurred so much, didn’t know when Hyrule had even gotten there, but the kid was already pressing golden sparking hands to the bruises around the captain’s neck, humming softly and brokenly as he worked.

Someone shifted behind him, rough hands catching his shoulders and pulling him back and away to let Hyrule work. Legend let himself fall, staring blankly up at the sky and fighting his rolling stomach as midnight blue eyes, full of concern and fear, had stared down at him. A deep voice had said something, warm hands closing around is shoulders as he blinked up.

Oh shit, he’d ruined the captain’s scarf, hadn’t he?

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #idiot writes whump #idiot writes angst #lu warriors #lu legend #whumptober 2021 #strangulation tw #panic attack tw #hemophobia #nausea tw #implied head trauma #animal death

[sugarakis-p2]

Hunted by the sacred order ch4

Shigaraki and Drury's blended new family are being hunted by the order while they try to build themselves into a real family. F/M

Warning: Sweet Sinnamon roll Mothman Shigaraki fluff. Four-armed bathtub spiciness. Minor violence, bloody face, and cussing.

Drury and the rest completed the mission of finding the books they need and it's time to go home. Nothing ever goes like planned though. Shigaraki is tired of waiting, he goes to find his missing people only to come across way too clever Roachmen. But they can be the key to Shigaraki's current problems. But this means more lies to his mate, which he does feel guilty about, just not enough to stop.

A gift for @shiggycansteponme

Chapter 3 < previous chapter

Chapter 4:

Dabi pressed the canteen to Drury’s lips, trying to pour the water in her frothing mouth.

“This isn’t working,” Dabi growls. He will have to start over again if he burns this bridge, and time is running out for him.

“Jump us over there!” the Librarian shouted at Muscular. The giant scoops him up makes the leap across the floor panels to land next to Spinner and Dabi. Muscular held down Spinner while the Librarian chanted a spell from a book he pulled from his robes.

Drury sat bolt upright, puked water over Dabi and herself, then smiled. The Librarian moved to Spinner. Drury started laughing, then puked some more.

“I almost died!” Drury proclaimed with a stupid giggle.

“By the gods, you sound batshit crazy,” Dabi said, holding her hair back. It was water, but it was still frothy from bile and spit. Drury looks pale and too thin. She brushes Dabi off and looks to Spinner. The lizard’s eyes are bulging, but he seems fine. Drury didn’t think so. She lectured Muscular on being a heavy-handed ape, hugging the Librarian and Spinner.

“You guys saved me. Spinner, that was so brave! Don’t you worry, little man, I’ll take care of you,” Drury says to the Librarian, “As long as you help us. I’ll be walking with you from now on.”

Drury leans in close and whispers in the man’s ear, the tip of a butcher's knife suddenly pressing under his chin.

“I promise not to kill you but know this. I saw you; you could have killed Spinner and Dabi with that little trick. I can’t have that. No more. If you continue to try to hurt us I will keep my promise and not kill you. But you will be surprised how many parts a human can miss and still cling to life.”

The Librarian shuddered in fear and nodded in agreement.

“Good. Let’s be friends. After all, you did save us in the end. Go on, you go first. I’ll be right behind you,” she grins.

They travel through the library maze, and Drury feels more like herself. Like a chatterbox, talking to the man about food, because Mary talked ceaselessly about food. When that ran out, she spoke of living in the woods. That seemed to get his attention, and Dabi put a stop to it.

“Too friendly, Drury, you are completely cracked. This little creep shouldn’t know about anything where we might be or going to be,” Dabi says flatly.

“Damn, Dabi, I’m just talking about flowers and trees. The only thing you're leaving me with is the weather. Fine, have you read any good books, Librarian?” Drury asked the nervous man. The man paused and eyed her, brow scrunching in puzzlement. Marcus’s special magic is reading. He can read all sorts of things, books, emotions, intent, dead languages. There wasn’t a thing he couldn’t read. As he stares at this woman, he can’t read her.

No, it’s more of he’s confused at what he is reading. The butcher of the outings was kind, merciful, and sweet. That was what he was reading and is confused, he had just tried to kill her, failed, was threatened, and here she is still trying to be his friend. Nothing like the monster portrayed in the tales they spin. He didn’t know how to respond to such a strange tale, most people are open books to him, but she is complex with blank pages, others yet to be written. In contrast, other pages are pulled out and shuffled around.

“All books are good books,” he mumbles.

“I disagree,” Drury said. Having a one-sided debate on the merits of some books versus others. Marcus listened while still guiding them to the books. Whether she was friendly now or not, he did read one thing very clearly. She would carve him up if he tried anything again. He stopped, pulled one book out from the stack, and held it out to Dabi.

“This one has the spells you wanted,” Marcus tells him. Dabi grabs it and shoves it somewhere deep in his robes before Drury can read it. “As for you, these three books are all we have on Mothmen and insectoid hybrids.”

“Do you have a language index for the insect people in the sewers?” Dabi asked. Spinner was still out of it, but his lifted his head and ranted.

“We are not going back to the sewers, are we?” Drury asked.

“Best bet,” Dabi said. Drury plays with her hair in thought. She barks at Marcus.

“Stand right there. Do not move a millimeter, do so, and I will let Musc rip your legs off,” Drury growled at Marcus. He stood there shivering in fear as they argued, stealing glances at him. Drury came back over with a sweet smile, “Is there something in this library you want but they won’t let you have? We will take it for you if you help us?”

Her honied words offered him his most profound temptation. That soft smile and open eyes floated over him. She was not the prettiest woman he had ever seen, but, at this moment, she looked like a succubus coaxing him to her side. Beautiful beyond belief.

“Yes,” he breathed. There was a book he was desperate to read. He didn’t want to keep it, but he needed to read it. It is a burning need he desired from the first day of school, “If you get me that book, I will follow you to hell.” She smiled, nodded, and held out her hand.

“My name is Drury. It is a deal librarian,” she said. He took her calloused hands, the inner webbing of her thumb and fingers rough, the palm supple, making the heat rush to his cheeks.

“Marcus,” he said, pumping his arm in agreement.

Shigaraki was not going to wait longer.

Yes, Spinner was reliable, and he had faith in him. But regardless, Spinner was not as good of a fighter or hunter. Shigaraki left the den with five of the older orphans. The weakest of them is with him as they hunt in pairs. Devin wasn’t terrible, but he was still too small for his age, leaving him at a disadvantage. That is why he recommended archery for the young man; however, he is not a good bowman either. Everything about him was just average.

“What are we hunting today?” Devin asked. He managed to keep the fear out of his small voice. They are going into a deeper area that reeked of swamp and shit. It was making Devin nervous. That was because it was a different hunt. The scent of his mate was too faint to follow, but the smell of Spinner was strong enough.

“Your brothers n sisters hunt food, we other prey,” he rasps in his broken language. Chittering and clicking in his own terrifying language to fill in the gaps. Shigaraki had several attractive braids in his hair. When he scooped up the boy and darted from tree to tree. The boy tried not to piss himself, accidentally clutching a braid. Shigaraki hissed but said nothing about it when Devin let the grip of his hair go.

Shigaraki snarled to himself when he scented under the wet cloying smells the odor of a cousin species. The Roachmen are a funny lot. He cannot stand their jovial nature that seems a direct contradiction with living in shit. He tolerated his mate because Drury is his mate. She could dig his eye out; he would smile and praise her if she continued to let him pound his lust into her.

By how riled they are, there is no doubt, Spinner had come through here. He created a loud rasping gurgle sound that got their attention. He sees that they are not an induvial colony, so they must have a queen. The kind of structure was so much better for Shigaraki to reason with.

“Shiga-r-r-rakeee, what are we doing?” Devin whimpered.

“We gather mushrooms, no talk, be ready,” Shigaraki growled at him.

“G-g-get ready?” Devin questioned as he set him down. The young man was nervous as the Roachmen approached. Devin steeled his nerves and notched his bow. Eyes darting around. Good boy, he mentally praised. The stench made his senses sting.

“Lookee, lookee, brothers, a pretty boy. What are you doing in these parts, pretty boy?” the biggest said.

“Ooooooooh! He is cute,” the female said. He grimaces. The sexes looked the same to him, and he had no desire to play with these fools.

“I am Shigaraki. I am the head of my hive. One of my members has come through here, and I wish to apologize to your Matriarch and make a deal,” he growls.

“Pretty boy wants to speak to the Matriarch, but that is never going to happen. You will talk to Xhhix, no higher,” one said. It left. He and Devin sat on the ground's cleanest, most solid part. Waiting. Waiting some more as the Roachmen made annoying snappy jokes. Waiting for hours until a massive burnt four-armed male plopped down in front of him. This did not bode well. This looked like Dabi’s handiwork.

When Shigaraki focused with his feelers under that exoskeleton, the scent was distinctly Dabi’s. The Roachman looked a little more human than the others and knew this was really bad. Dabi burned their version of the pretty boy. At some point, he will have to eat shit because of this. The Roachman gave him a smile and a bow in humility, throwing Shigaraki off.

“I am Xhhix of the Royal high guard. Owe you an apology. The other clan we have a pact with came across an old friend. Your clansman, the dragon born, chased after that group, so we had failed to protect our friend and your clansmen. A pyromancer and a large human stole her away. The others said she was pregnant with our kind. Is she your mate?” Xhhix snarled, the question like a jealous lover.

His mate had made contact with them at some point if they were calling his Drury an old friend. Red, a flash of red-hot jealousy spikes through his brain, a red flag that they know she is his mate. When had she been friendly with the Roachmen? The Roachmen of all things. The silly woman would get herself killed or raped being this friendly. Fuck, she is going to be the death of him.

“She is,” Shigaraki says cautiously, lightly scratching at his ruff. The Roachmen chittered in approval.

“Ah, good. I laid my claim on her first,” Xhhix grins. His dark, cold eyes hold no joy. Shigraki rises and flares. Every part of him rages at his words. What the hell? When? While he was away.

“Liar! I was her first male. She had told me so,” he snarls. Xhhix mandibles bend more into a broader smile.

“The butcher girl lived in our tunnels when she was a larva. I personally hunted for her and gifted her the best meat. She took it; therefore, my claim is on her first,” he challenges. This made Shigaraki freeze. Drury had not talked much of that time, but she had told him that was how she hunted her intended prey.

He calms himself down. Seeing it. Drury with her butcher knife waiting until sundown to kill soldiers. Stomach growling, trying her best to ignore it, when some meat appears near her. Snatching it up and stuffing it in her mouth, not knowing she had excepted a proposal.

“Ah, then I challenge you, by sire rights. She is already filled with my grubs. I challenge you,” Shigaraki grins back. Xhhix is standing, towering over him. This guy is a big fucking problem. He’s not going to beat him with raw strength alone. His decay has a nasty effect on fellow magical creatures, but he doesn’t want to play that card just yet.

“Awww, pretty boy is going to get his looks ruined,” the female pouts. Devin is sweating, unable to figure out what is going on. The poor boy has been on edge the entire time. He reassures Devin that everything will be ok. He reaches into his pants and pulls out a deck of cards. The only thing these shit bugs like more than fighting is gambling.

“What is this?” Xhhix asks, antennae’s wavering, head cocked with curiosity.

“We could fight over the female that is not here, or we can make an alliance. Have Drury choose who to be with if we rescue her? It is not fair to challenge the leader of a hive directly. You want humans, yes? Let’s be civil,” Shigaraki says sensibly. The civil remake gets through to the male. Roachmen like to think of themselves on the same level as humans.

Xhhix let the little human slip through his claws twice. He was not only the strongest of the mixed colonies under the human city, but he is also the bravest, and it was an insult they had escaped. They stole away the humans when they could snatch them, but few survived. His ‘Drew-ree,’ was the only one they had seen survive the harsh environment of the sewers. Such a pretty name for the prettiest human he had ever seen. He never knew it until today.

He had etched every curve of her face into his mind and often dreamed of it when the little butcher girl appeared in the sewers. He was a very young male but had killed many to gain the right to approach her like one of their own. It was deemed appropriate for one so feral and slaughtered so many that tried to catch her. He was devastated when she had not returned that night from the giant fire above. He went a little mad and challenged all until he became the strongest. He would never lose a potential mate again.

When Xhhix saw her again, he knew immediately it was her. He bellowed through the fire, not caring how badly he was burned. He couldn’t lose her again. His pride hurt as she disappeared again into the danger of the humans above. He sat across from this pretty little moth boy and snorted mentally. This one thinks he’s smarter than him, and Xhhix will not have his honor hurt further.

He has heard of the stray Mothman hobbling together a stray hive. It was shameful. His mate, his Drew-Ree, should not have to suffer it. Xhhix assumed this one saw what he saw, Drew-ree’s raw, beautiful nature, and had stolen her in the chaos of the recent breach of the city. Along with other humans.

The boy is proof he has humans, and the colony needs them. The more pure insect generations, the lower their intelligence and their magic. Diplomacy would be best in this case because they are civil and have laws.

“Alright,” Xhhix agreed, “We shall work out the finer details. You want to go on a raid to retrieve the female. We keep all the humans in the raid except for Drew-ree,” he hisses, plopping back down.

“Yessss, let her choose which hive she wishes to be with,” Shigaraki said, shuffling the cards.

“Does your hive have a queen?” Xhhix asked casually, cutting the deck.

“Of course not. Do not pretend you do not know who I am. You wouldn’t risk this raid if you did not have my magic decay on your side,” Shigaraki glared. Xhiix smiles; pretty moth boy has brains too.

“I like how sure you are she will choose you pretty moth stray. I know Drew-Ree’s, true heart. Without a queen and her jelly, your brood will shrivel up, or Drew-Ree will die without it. I think you will be more compromising than you intended when we started,” Xhhix grins. He sees Shigaraki’s back straighten and his feelers twitch in agitation. This would be easy.

Getting the book was beyond annoying.

The entire group was worn out and exhausted near the end of the mission.

“I’m tired and want to go home,” Drury whined, killing another strange creature that the security system set off.

“I agree, this isn’t as fun as when we started,” Musc said, bored and tired.

“We are all tired and want to go home. Quit complaining. We’ll finish these off and head home,” Dabi snarled.

“Assholes!” Spinner said in his language so Drury can’t understand, “Full of shit. You two only ever think of yourselves. Think of a better lie. Shigaraki will kill you for stealing his mate and putting her in danger!”

“You are just cranky and angry because you're hungry. When we get back, and I sing your praise to Squishy, she will stuff and screw you silly,” Dabi reassures. That made Spinner blush as he kept killing the annoying pests, his pace picking up with motivation. Dabi rolls his eyes. Spinner will keep his mouth shut.

Marcus guided them to a safe part of the Library. He left for some supplies. Dabi suddenly thought that was a bad idea.

“He’s not going to come back,” Dabi snarled.

“He will. We may not have, but Marcus will. He saved us because he longs for the bond we have. The Sacred Order seems like a lonely place. We will bring him home with us, and he will use his magic to cure Shiggy,” Drury said flatly. Dabi stared at her. She is challenging to read, he often wondered if she was stupid, but she used that to surprise people. She surprised him, and he did not like it.

“You really think you can talk him into coming home with us?” Spinner asked. Drury smiled at him.

“I won’t have to; he has already made up his mind and will beg to come with us. Dabi should negotiate the details. Speak of the devil,” Drury said, grin widening, “Five crowns he does ask us first,” Drury snapped and pointed at Spinner. Marcus had returned with a cart and a bundle of cheap food they shoveled in their mouth.

“Part of the librarian duties is delivering books to other libraries. We will hide you in the cart and walk out. Here help me block you with books. These books will be so useful,” Marcus said. Drury did not bother doing that work, and Marcus didn’t want Dabi touching them. So, it was just him and Musc. Drury picked up one and read the cover.

“Look at this one. This will be nice to have for the little ones,” Drury said, making Marcus pause.

“Drury, I didn’t know you could read,” He stated.

“We had a whole discussion on books,” Drury huffed.

“Yeah, but you’re a woman. I figured you had those books read to you. You were granted permission to read?”

“I was taught to by someone from the Sacred order,” Drury says.

“What do you mean by someone in the order?” Dabi asks.

“I was put in a room and not allowed to turn around. They told me if I turned around, I would be killed. But someone taught me to read, and I never saw who?” Drury says, shoving a sewer bun in her mouth, finished with this conversation. Marcus looked curious and disturbed.

“Those were in the sewer with us,” Dabi says, disgusted. Both Muscular and Drury shrug as if it was no big deal.

“I was wondering if I could come with you guys?” Marcus asked. Drury smirked at Spinner.

“Sure, it’s either that or kill you,” Dabi said. The Librarian had been much more valuable than the two whiney lovers Shigaraki brought back.

The little plan has worked so far. The League of Villians sat in the cart smothered in books, sweating, and cramped. Since Muscular had taken up most of the bulk, everyone was pressed against his raging cock. Dabi had practically shoved Drury and Spinner there and squished on the two of them.

“Gross Musc,” Drury and Spinner complained.

“Not my fault. Quite squirming around so much,” Musc replied.

“Dabi is too hot. Hug me, Spinner; your scales are nice and cool.” Drury tried to pull him closer.

“What? No,” Spinner tried to shift away.

“Then trade places,” Drury whined.

“Shuddup, all of you,” Dabi hissed. They are coming up to another checkpoint. He did not know how deep they had to go in the city, but he was tense and nervous. Drury was looking pale and complaining about pain again. Musc was running out of root. He told her it was the sewer rolls, but Musc was fine. She is coming too close to catching on. Again, it was hard to gauge with Drury.

The cart halted, and they held their breath as Marcus talked to the guard. Only these guards are on high alert since they had seen two of the leagues of villains drop into the sewer yesterday. They are ordering Marcus to turn around. But the man couldn’t. Sooner rather than later, they will get caught with a higher level of Sacred Order sorcerers.

“Heee-YAH!” Marcus screamed for the horses to run, attempting to break through the gate.

All of them would have flown out of the back if it wasn’t for Muscular gripping them so tight during his rude dry humping.

“Hold on!” Marcus screamed. They were, but it was short-lived as their world went topsy-turvy. The world was filled with Choas, bleeding, the loud buzzing and beating of wings as the sewers overflowing with insects.

Drury was sweating, panting, and bleeding over Marcus. He would have been hurt, and his awe for her grew.

“I’ve never seen a raid this large,” Marcus cringes in fear against Drury.

“Because of Shigaraki, look, little brother,” Drury pants. Marcus looks up to see the only tall thin pale Mothman. The creature is extremely quick, all over the battlefield as the insects grabbed humans and dragged them into the tunnels of the sewers. Shigaraki bats any spell lobed at them or monsters right back at the spell casters. One member of the Sacred order halted in horror as her spell melted the man next to her. She couldn’t cry about it; she was quickly dragged away.

Drury is unable to stand to join the fight. She shudders in terrible pain, moving away enough from Marcus to puke. Her stomach twisting when Marcus is shoved aside by Spinner scooping her up. Drury cries how sorry she is that she puked on Spinner. He doesn’t care. He was busy trying to keep her out of reach of the Insecta people.

“Marcus!” Drury shouted until Spinner got his attention with a smacked of his tail, “Marcus. You’re a librarian. Protect the books and go to the waterfalls at the west of the forbidden forest.”

Drury says. Musc rights the cart. Marcus nodded, Dabi jumping in the cart with him and flying down the road. Devin’s head pops out of the sewer and yells at the tired party to follow him.

“I’m not sure what kind of deal was struck, but Shigaraki got us access to the sewers. These guys are our allies for now,” Devin panted, covering his mouth with a piece of cloth, “Drury looks awful.”

“Nice to see you too,” Drury said before puking on his shoes. The insects are all over them, treating Drury as a princess as they vomit stuff into her mouth. Both Spinner and Devin puke at sight. Drury smacks her lips and sighs in relief, “Not so bad.” She proclaimed.

Shigaraki was hoping Xhhix was not as good of a player as it turned out to be.

He made a deal he is sure would break Drury’s heart, but he had no choice. Only the queen can produce royal jelly, and they both need it. It to stamp down his instincts. Drury required jelly to be free from pain and grow their grubs. His old hive is long gone.

The deal made him stressed, and he will take it out on humans. With all the talk about relationships and what they mean, Drury might slip from his grip. Might choose the Roachmen. “Shiggy. We never talked about that,” and “Our relationship is or what our future will look like?” and “Maybe we should start pulling out?” All words that haunt him.

He grabs one of the Sacred Order fools. The desire to cave in his head is overwhelming. But the colonies want breeders, so he bashes his face until he is unconscious. Three fists connecting with the mushy flesh of his face, knuckles are scraping against bones, blood splattering.

“Hey man, he doesn’t have to be pretty, but it helps,” the female roach chittered next to him. He tosses the man to her and moves for the next human.

“Fall back!” Xhhix yells. Shigaraki sighs. He won’t tell Drury how he might have lost her or one of their children. He will tell her only what she needs to know and suffer the consciousness later. His mind has been buzzing that word. Later. This deal has secured so many things for them. A guaranteed survival for the winter quickly approaching and for his grubs.

He has a week to keep his mate or lose one of his children. If only he was sure she would choose him. The Roachmen already have a nice place made for his Drury in the main hive, where the stench is milder. The Matriarch agreed to the terms and is pleased either way. Her favored Xhhix will either have a sweet human mate, or she will have one of his sons as a mate. The permeant alliance is valuable, and one of his sons should be honored by it.

He follows Xhhix to the palace, where his people and the new human slaves are taken. Another thing he will not tell his mate about. The sewers are disgusting, and he is eager to leave them. It seems like forever, but the second he enters the guarded room, Spinner, Devin, and Muscular babble at him all at once.

He ignores them and follows the scent of the only person who matters to him. His whole world is in a bath and smells like sweet oil. Naked, her adorable humming floating in the air as she dumps a bucket of water over her head.

Slick and glistening in the dim light. Shigaraki hates the dampness. He ignores it. He needs her, every part of his burning nerves and instincts demand it. Drury slicks her wet hair back, flicking the water from her eyes before turning to see him. The moment their eyes meet, she lights up like a goddess of joy, launching herself at him. Full tilt, her wet, slick body wraps around him.

“Shiggy,” she breathes. Drury looks up at him with soft eyes had he melts, thinking, ‘oh…. there you are.’ She jerks away with a little gasp, “Oh, I’m all wet. I’m sorry.

He smiles and pulls her back to him. She conforms to his sculpted body and sighs in contentment.

“Drrruuurryyyy,” he hums. Sharp chirps escape him, for her, the instincts buzzing louder at the back of his head. He has been able to control it but barely. The tub is made for wings, so he quickly undresses, lifting his sweet mate, jumping into the tub with her squirming body.

He relaxes for a moment before he starts to inspect her. He knows every inch of her physique and is relieved, only after he has counted all her toes. Spinner had come through, and he is pleased with his brother. Drury shoves her wet tits in his face as she washes his hair. His tongue snakes out and licks her nipple.

“Tell me how the family is. I heard some news from Devin, but I want to hear it from you,” Drury giggles and continues. He answers her tersely before stretching out his tongue again. She giggles more, even when he grabs her waist and shoulders to pull her closer to suckle one of her. Catching the tender flesh that pebbled under his tongue.

He lightly whimpers as she pours water delicacy around his feelers. His internal cock is growing hard. He should talk to her, should tell her a part of the awful thing he agreed to, but the only sound that whined out of him is pathetic primal lust.

He is ashamed of himself, nuzzling her belly as she lowers her hips to meet his throbbing cock. Her arms lightly wrap around his neck. The tip of his dick probed her entrance.

“You want to do naughty things now?” Drury asked, her eyes glinting in that way that says she already knows the answer. The look in his crimson eyes makes her wetter. Pushing the head dick of his cock past her entrance on her own accord.

Drury whimpers in his mouth as she aggressively kisses him. Drury is behaving ravenously for him. She lowers herself, dangerously forcing him into her resisting walls, working him in, stretching her wide on his girth.

“Don’t push self. Love you. Be gentle to my love,” he says, making Drury blush.

“Fuck, when you say things that cute, how can I not give it my all when you so clearly need it,” she moaned, pushing herself further. It stings, but Drury takes as much of him as she can. Wanting to scream, when she bottoms out, her fingers tangled in his hair.

Cooing encouragement and praising how good she is to him and mean it. With unrestrained lust, he cages her to him with all four arms, trying to be one with her, then maybe she will understand. She is his, always, as he is hers. His length is stirring every nerve in Drury’s warm wet eager walls. She groans, dragging herself up and down his perfect cock.

Her cunt is gripping him so tight she tugs at the instincts that tell him to ignore the alliance and steal her away. She starts to bounce, her tits jiggling provocatively. Her flesh connected with the bath's surface, creating loud wet lewd slapping sounds in the room. Good, he hopes everyone hears.

He thrusts hard to fully sheathe himself in her inviting warmth. Teasing his feral impulses that are already burning with desire for Drury. He will make her cum on his knot so loud it will drive off the competition.

“You feel so good,” she panted as she rode him without mercy. The water is sloshing, threatening to wet his wings. He wanted to talk dirty back, but he couldn’t. She felt so good. His eyes rolled in the back of his head.

He wraps both arms on the right side around her and arches his hips up so she can grind harder on his cock. He cannot stop, but he will hold ridged and still for his mates’ pleasure, bracing with his left side of arms against the tub rim. He will let Drury do anything with him.

He stills hips up to her, arching like her personal bridge to walk over. Nipping at the tender flesh that will feed his brood, moving to the other to squeeze. Proud that she is his. She whines about how it burns, how tired she is and how he makes her work too hard. He’s so big, as she bobs up and down on his length, she whines loudly for all to hear.

His head pushes against your cervix with every wild hump. Trusting his strong arms to keep her going until she cums. Tears trickle down her cheeks. He licks at them, but her mouth captures him again, making it hard to breathe. His kinky mate rose him to new peaks of unknown pleasure.

He doubts he will ever meet another like her in a thousand years. He felt his struggle to breathe as pure euphoria building at his core. It makes him want to go wild. His sharp teeth are grazing her tongue, resisting biting and sucking down all her flavor like a greedy pig.

His plush fur rubbed over her clit like ghostly fingers, sending little tingles of pleasure through her. Harshly gripping the soft fur of his ruff, sealing her lips over his chapped lips. The rough texture was softened by the water. Shigaraki hums and bucks up his hips against hers wildly.

Helping her bounce up and down on his cock, a sting of pain at each bump of her cervix. Every breathy groan escaping from Drury plays at instincts. She smiles, giggling against his mouth, filling the room with the sweet chimes of her tones that mix with the wet splashing.

Drury grows hotter and wetter. Shoving herself down deeper, the base of his cock expanding and stretching her to her limits. Drury is grinding hard until he can’t help it. He knows it feels great and is teasing him. Bucking up harder to help and to get a little relief.

“Cruel mate,” He growls. She pulls her mouth away, laughing as her pussy pumps faster on him. Ecstasy coils tightly in him until he can’t take it. His fevered bucking stops as her pussy grips him like a vice, preventing him from thrusting. Screaming, she is cumming so hard her cunt milks him. Drury’s head is thrown back, laughing in pure bliss. She is such a sweet mate, taking his knot, lightly tugging, teasing, and coaxing his orgasm. He is annoyed he has just dry-knotted because this is not enough for him. Her sweet little noises are driving him wild.

“Does this feel cruel,” she coos, tweaking his nipple. Still pulsing and spasming, he thrusts into her tight channel, chasing his own orgasm. Wrapping himself around Drury’s soft, tender body bounces in rhythm with him, she clutches to him. Inhaling her sweet scent deeply. Panting in unison. He slows, grinds, rotating his hips up until you moan in pleasure. His large cock glided over her slick walls perfectly, “Ah, Shiggy. You’re the mean one. Cum for me,” Drury groans. She knows he hasn’t cum even though he has knotted. He prays she never mentions this to anyone.

All four arms are used as he lifts her standing in the tub. He closes his eyes to feel her pulse in her chest and on his cock. The pounding of her heart matches the twitches of her sex, so sensitive she jerks and whines with each pulse. Enough teasing, he decides, gripping her ass, giving her a harsh smack. He pounds himself violently into her tightness, her nails digging into him. He can feel her getting tighter and wetter around his length.

“Mine,” Shigaraki growls, his climax unfurling. He needs to fill Drury’s perfect cunt with his seed and scent. Her pussy grips at him with each pull. She clenches down on his knot, keeping him inside, not wanting to let him go. He is already so close. Thrusting and grinding against g-spot with his thick cock, Drury screaming praises, and encouragement.

“Mine. I don’t deserve you. I love you,” he rumbles deep and low in her speech. He confessed his wrongdoings in his personal Goddess in his own language. “You are my everything. I have lied to you. Only because I could not go on without you,” he chirped with pleasure in his own language. He is not above lying, even to his everything, if it means Drury stays his.

Drury is his lifemate. If she decides to stay with the Roachmen, he will kill himself. He will simply die, and he knows it with every fiber of his being. As much as Hannah says Drury is one of their heavy hitters, and it’s true, Hannah does not understand that if he saw her cut down on the battlefield, he would quickly follow.

A tidal wave of pleasure washes over both as the coil in his groan comes undone at the same time. His teeth chatter as Drury pulls bliss from deep within him, his hot cum painting her walls, draining him completely. Growling and hissing over the flapping buzz of his wings. He kisses and keens to her. Drury squeals as he splashes down back in the tub, careful to keep his wings away from the water.

“I have done several bad things,” he says slowly and cautiously. He wants to be sure he is clear enough for Drury to understand, “I am a bad mate. I couldn’t control my instincts. I have…. implanted you with eggs. We will have several grubs.” He watches Drury’s expression closely. The confession killed his knot, deflating and popping out of her. Her eyes are wide in surprise until she shivers in excitement and glee, a huge grin spreading over her face.

“We’re going to have babies?” she squeals, wrapping her arms around his wet ruff, pulling him into a brutal hug. That was a better reaction than he was expecting. Remember her telling him that they should wait, but in truth, she brought it up because of Hannah. Drury’s own feelings are unknown to him until this moment.

“Yes. Happy you are happy. But I still bad, mate. Need royal jelly to stay healthy. You must stay here with disgusting Roachmen. Stay here for a week. I will visit nightly. They will try to seduce,” he whimpers. Holding her close and feeling miserable.

“Oh, makes sense,” she says casually. In true Drury fashion, taking everything in stride with a curious smile. She rubs her nose against his, “Don’t worry, you’re my family.” Drury says. Cutting right to the heart of his concern. Her smile falters.

“Does this mean the entire mission was a waste?” Drury asks.

“What mission?” he growls. Drury watches him, his crimson eyes filled with sudden rage. Drury gives a story like Dabi’s even though she didn’t hear it. Drury just instinctively knew this is how Dabi would lie. She tells him everything aside from a few things. Shigaraki listens and becomes more distressed by the second. He puts on that serene calm face as he finishes cleaning her.

“Don’t be mad. You were acting like a silent deviant,” Drury said. Grabbing swathes of cloth, he dries her and watches as she gets dressed in the cleaned Sacred Order robes. It is giving him deviant thoughts. She sees him admiring her in the outfit and giggles, “When I’m back home, I will be happy to tie you up and interrogate you, heathen scum,” she purrs to him. Several sharp chirps escape him as he turns bright red. Refusing to look at her.

She is laughing out loud when she sees the rest. Shigaraki pulls Spinner aside while Drury talks to Muscular. He is pissed. None of this has gone as planned. He looks down at Drury, who looks up at him with an expression he has never seen before.

“You and Dabi are on my shit list,” She says coldly. The frigid tone grips at his heart. He loves that look. There is the little Goddess of death he has been wanting to meet.

“What are you going to do about it?” He grins. She smiles back with no joy in it.

“Nothing. You are a part of my family, so I will protect you. I already covered for you. However, I will tell Hannah, and she will have something to say about it. Don’t worry, it will be an appropriate punishment because Hannah is fairer than I am. It’s her job, not mine. I would just kill you if it was Shigaraki or me,” Drury says absently. She surprises him with a quick hug before she moves over to Devin. Chatting him up and ignoring Muscular.

Xhhix has shed his exoskeleton as his queen instructed.

The moulting has left him a brilliant white, he flaps his wet wings. The Matriarch gasps and chitters in approval.

“This Drew-Ree will not be able to resist your beauty,” she says. Xhhix whines.

“But I am burned in some places, and my hair is still too short. The moth male has his long and is very lean. I think she likes him looking all feminine. I am all hard lines and muscles. What if she is repulsed?” He blathers, on his knees, globing onto her.

“Nonsense. From what you have told me, you are prettier. Shigaraki is scarred and disfigured. She will see past these temporary burns,” she reassures like a good mommy, “Treat her like you would me, and she will not refuse our colony. Show her what a good mate, provider, and sire you will be. You are allowed free rein of the royal pantry and anything you need. The aberrant Mothman will be a good ally regardless of my little favorite one. You have done good for the colony, and we will do everything to help you. Now, go and woo her.”

When Xhhix enters with gifts for Drury, he stops, his entire being freezes gazing upon his soulmate. The Mothman is there stroking the back of her bare neck. The conversation stops as they both eye each other. He had not seen Drury since she was a child. Suddenly, she was right in front of him, more beautiful than a full moon. When she sees Xhhix, she squeals, abruptly very close, and prattles questions. Shigaraki yanks her back, scolding her for being too friendly.

“But he is so pretty and has an interesting pattern. I just want to learn,” Drury giggles. Shigaraki is seething. The Roachman did not look like the monster he had seen before. Without his armor, Xhhix is vulnerable, but he has an ethereal beauty even to him.

Bright white all over except for his large pitch-black eyes that bulge a little. The red burns add to his appearance instead of detracting. They are uniformed lines around his body where his exoskeleton did not protect.

He has long, straight, sleek antennae from his forehead, mandibles on either side of plump human lips, a jawline that could cut glass. His yellowish soft, scaled underbelly is toned. Small nose and the good looks of a play-actor. His wings still a little wet but gives him the appearance of wearing a stream lined cape. He left his hands, fingers tipped with sharp claws, and his crotch, unwilling to leave himself completely vulnerable. The Roachman had played him harder than he thought.

Masculine, muscular, a four-armed luminous magnificence beast.

Shigaraki did not like this. Not one fucking bit.

“Spinner will be here to translate,” he informs Drury. Spinner knows he is here for more than that and nods. He lets her go when he is sure Drury has calmed down enough not to touch the male. Drury has a bad habit of wanting to touch everything. Xhhix looks like he would welcome it. He holds out a tray of poppy water and a plate of salted potatoes with grilled rose hips surrounded by red roses.

“How did you know rose hips are my favorite?” Drury asks.

“I remember everything about you, Drew-Ree,” Xhhix says in perfect human. Smiling and smirking over her shoulder at the others who stare at Xhhix in slack-jawed shock. Drury giggles.

Shigaraki did not like this. Not one fucking bit.

Chapter 5

#boku no hero academia tomura #shigaraki tomura #my hero academia shigaraki #moth shigaraki #mothman shigaraki #motharaki #smut #spicy #mothura #alternate universe fantasy #shiggy #boku no hero academia shigaraki #tomura shigraki #shigaraki x oc #tomura shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #mha shigaraki

[fruitcoops]

Okay I love everything you do with Sirius and Regulus and I was wondering if you could do Regulus having a bad dream and Sirius comforting him? It could be about family or literally anything

No pressure though I love you tons <33

Ugh I love this prompt. These two make my heart ache in the best way, and it was a real treat to write about them a bit! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for nightmares (mentioned) and past child abuse (mentioned, vague)

The first thing Sirius thought of when he awoke to a rustling downstairs was ‘raccoon?’

The second was ‘burglar??’

And the third was Regulus.

Carefully, he moved Remus’ head onto the pillow and slipped out from under his arm, shivering at the chill of their bedroom outside the blankets. He grabbed a hoodie off the dresser and opened the door softly before padding downstairs; it was half past three in the morning on a Saturday, and Regulus never got up before eleven if he could help it, even on weekdays.

The kitchen light was on when Sirius walked down the stairs, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Reg?” he whispered.

A mug clattered and he frowned, wincing at the brightness of the small room. Regulus had his back to the door as he fiddled with the stove.

“What’re you doing up?” Sirius asked around a yawn.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up. Sorry.” A fine tremor rippled through Regulus’ arm; his voice was strained.

The latent drowsiness left Sirius’ body in the blink of an eye. “Are you alright?”

“All good.”

“Reg.”

Regulus swallowed as Sirius gently touched his arm. Hot chocolate bubbled in the pan that he stirred with a shaky hand—underneath the warm milk, Sirius smelled cinnamon. “It was just a nightmare. I’ll be alright in a minute.”

“How long have you been awake?”

He shrugged, sniffling once before grabbing his mug off the counter. It was a multicolored monstrosity Katie had painted him for his birthday, but he used on every occasion; once, Sirius saw him drink lemonade from it. “Half an hour? An hour? I’m not sure.”

“Do you want to talk?”

Regulus shook his head and his lower lip quavered slightly. Sirius made a soft sound and opened his arms, letting him rest against his chest like he used to when they were kids. Two hands clutched the back of his hoodie and he pressed a light kiss to Regulus’ dark hair before setting his chin on it. “Sorry,” Regulus hiccupped. “I tried to be quiet.”

“I thought you were a raccoon for a second,” Sirius joked, though he kept a tight hold on his little brother. “You know you can always wake me up if you need something, right?”

“I’m nineteen, not four.” Despite his scoff, Regulus held on tighter. “Thanks. I needed this.”

“Any time.” Sirius reached down and stirred the hot chocolate as it began to froth. “Did you add the nutmeg?”

“I don’t remember.”

Sirius nodded and brought the spoon to his mouth, licking his lips. “Yep, you got it. Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He grabbed another mug out of the cupboard and poured equal measures into each, then a little more into Regulus’.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could have any.”

“Brother tax.” Sirius took a sip and smacked his lips just to rub it in. “Also, payment for the hug.”

“I’m not paying you for hugs.”

“It’s either this or five bucks. I’ll leave it up to you.” He grinned and knocked their hips together as Regulus rolled his eyes. They drank in comfortable silence for a few minutes, hands curled around the warm edges as spiced chocolate steam filled the kitchen.

“So…” Regulus trailed off.

Sirius took another drink. “I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.” There were a few more heartbeats of quiet. “It was about Mother.”

It took every ounce of self-control, but Sirius didn’t flinch. “Hmm.”

“She was yelling again. She yelled a lot, especially after you were gone.”

He swallowed hard around the shame rising in his throat. Heather always said he shouldn’t be guilty for moving forward, that he hadn’t abandoned Regulus in any sense of the word, but it was still hard to accept. “She always did.”

“I don’t blame you for getting out.” Regulus kept his eyes trained on the red walls as he scooted over so their shoulders touched. “I’m glad you did, actually. I’d rather it be me than you.”

“That’s my line,” Sirius laughed, a little bitterly. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Neither did you.”

“She can’t touch us here, okay? We’re safe now.” Sirius nudged him until he looked over and nodded. “You’ll always have a place in this house, Reg.”

“Remus must be tired of having me around,” Regulus muttered into the rim of his mug.

“Are you kidding? He thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread,” Sirius snorted. “You’re both such nerds.”

“Okay, Mr. Come-Watch-This-Underwater-Documentary-For-the-Fifth-Time.”

Sirius made a face at him and put the pan in the sink, running some water around the sides so the milk wouldn’t stick. He could tell Regulus wanted to say more; tension was starting to gather in the air again. “Even if he was tired of you, I wouldn’t kick you out.”

There was a beat of surprised silence. “You wouldn’t?”

“No. I almost lost you once and I won’t do it again.” He drained the last of his hot chocolate and bit his lip. “Please don’t make me choose between you, though.”

“I won’t. I would never make you do that.” A fierce gleam entered Regulus’ silver eyes for a moment, then faded. “Dumo offered me a place to stay when Logan moves in with his boys.”

“Did he?”

“I was—” Regulus paused. “I was thinking about taking him up on the offer.”

A pang hit Sirius’ heart. “I think it’ll be good for you. Independence, and all that.”

“I think so, too. It’ll be…interesting, to have some solid parents for once.” He set his mug down and leaned back on the counter, looking around the kitchen carefully. “I like it here, though. It feels like a home.”

“You can make whatever choice you think is best. I’ll miss you, but I won’t stop you from whatever you decide to do.”

Regulus chewed his lower lip. “I was thinking about quitting hockey.”

“Okay.”

“I love it so much, but I might take a year and do some online classes. Or get a job. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know everything right now.” Sirius reached over and ruffled his hair. “You’re nineteen, not ninety-five. Honestly, I’ve been waiting to catch you sneaking out to hang with Knutty one of these nights.”

Regulus laughed quietly, a real smile splitting his face. “That’s a good idea.”

“I could ground you.” Sirius grinned. “I’ve always wanted to ground somebody.”

“That’s so lame,” Regulus snickered, leaning his temple on Sirius’ shoulder for a moment before sighing. “I’m going to try and sleep again.”

“Sweet dreams, freeloader,” Sirius teased, giving him a squeeze. “And put your dishes in the sink.”