#Which for me can mean that for Harry his father meant security | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

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you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

Baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just naked

So take what I’m willing to give, love it or hate it.”

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

A/N: alright SO!!!! the original part 3 ended up being at the cusp of 50k words (because i have no self control) and that is a LOT to read in one go so it’s getting split into parts 3 and 4! which means!! double update laidese and germs!!!! part 4 will be posted this SUNDAY, AUGUST 16th at 5PM PST/8PM EST :D we hope you enjoy this chapter, feedback is greatly appreciated, and please please PLEASE!!! if you like it, reblog it!!! and if you want, go nuts in the tags!! every single one is read!!! it keeps content creators motivated 💌leyla @sunflowervolvimp3 took the liberty of making an incredible playlist to go along with our story, so feel free to check it out and see if you can find any clues as to what’s in store for the characters 👀without further delay, here she is...buckle up 👁👁this is gonna be quite the ride

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

word count: 24.2k

content/warnings: cheeky banter over texts, The Crew dragging Niall to shit, more banter over a glass of cheap wine, vampire!harry showing up to “interior design” sessions looking like a runway model, some fwb smut, degradation kink, very mild mentions of blood, and some ugly tapestries that somehow lead to sexting

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Y/N definitely puts Harry’s number to good use. Very good use.

In fact, during the span of the next month or so, Harry reckons that she pulls up his contact on her phone so often that she probably has him listed on speed dial. The assumption is dramatic and probably incorrect, on behalf of his arrogance, but with how much time they start spending together, it’s hardly a stretch.

It all begins exactly a week after their first time meeting.

Harry still hates clubs.

He hates them more than he did last week. He hates them more than he did yesterday, more than he did this morning, and even more than he did a minute ago. He fucking despises them.

And yet, as Harry stands here before the mirror in his enormous double-sink bathroom, fiddling with his damp hair as his flouncy dress shirt hangs unbuttoned from his broad shoulders, he’s absolutely positive he has never hated clubs more than right now.

Niall got to pick the venue this time. He’d texted his choice in the groupchat (which is respectfully named Dinner Plans) about four hours ago, making sure to get the word out decently early so that everyone could start making their preparations, all in order for the crew to be on the move by nine P.M.

It’s now nine thirty-seven, and everyone is fully set to leave at the agreed upon hour. Everyone except Harry.

This, however, is not uncommon. He’s always the one that takes the longest to get ready, no matter how soon he starts. No one can remember an instance where Harry has ever been ready on time— which says a lot, considering most of the gang has years of memories from which they can pull. Mitch especially. With almost a century of friendship behind them, not once has the older vampire ever seen Harry stick to a deadline. His flare for being fashionably late is less a flare, and moreso an irritating burn. It always throws off their game a bit, but at this point, everyone has gotten used to the seemingly young vampire’s theatrics.

So on this Friday night, there isn’t much more to do other than mold to his habits; Harry answers to no one except himself and it’s been that way for decades now, for a reason he’d rather not reminisce. He doesn’t owe anything to anyone, especially since he’s the one that always takes charge of getting them where they need to go, as well as getting them inside said destination. Complaining about their leader wouldn’t do the gang any good for a number of reasons, especially because Harry rarely ever listens. It is what it is— he’s just the way he is, and they’ve all learned to live with and respect that.

The funny thing? Harry does it on purpose, though his friends aren’t aware of it. He drags out the process of getting prepared simply so he can put off having to step inside one of those circus acts people refer to as clubs. He goes as slow as possible and does as much as possible, spreading seconds into minutes, and maybe— if he’s insistent enough and feeling particularly pesky— an hour. His record is an hour and twenty-eight minutes, which he wears with pride, much to his group’s unamusement.

Harry knows no one will ever say anything about his annoying tendencies, unless they’re willing to volunteer themselves to take the reins for the night. Vampires are alert and productive, but only when they want to be— which is usually only when it benefits them— and only if they can muster up the patience for it. And frankly, none of the creatures he associates with have the patience required to deal with security, driving, and other obstacles the way Harry does. He’s indispensable, and therefore, everyone puts up with his shit. Quid pro quo has never been more effective.

So here Harry stands, now thirty-eight minutes past the original time sorted for departure, carefully combing volumizing mousse into his slightly wet curls and spinning each ringlet around his index finger to give them the definition and bounce he’s so well-known for. Here he is, finishing up his post-shower routine as all of his friends mill around downstairs in his living room, waiting for him to come down so they can pack into his car and head out for the weekly hunt at whatever establishment has been deemed fit for the night. And here he is, taking his sweet time so he can be the signature pain in the ass that everyone hates to love.

Once Harry has thoroughly coated all of his hair with the fluffy white cream, he pulls out his hair-dryer from the cabinet below his sink, snapping its accompanying diffuser into place and flipping his head upside down. He carefully scrunches his curls to his roots with the attachment, moving in thoughtful circles as he hums to the rhythm of a song he can’t be bothered to remember the name of. Staring down at his polished jet black heeled boots, he absentmindedly taps against the porcelain ground to the beat of the music, sighing wistfully as warm air circulates its way across his scalp.

Harry turns his shoes to the side, admiring the detailing along the back of the heel. Across the curved surface is the word SUCKER, bedazzled onto the article with multicolored jewels, glitzing beautifully under the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom. The shoes had been a gift from a friend with connections in high places; more specifically, connections to the man who sits on the throne of the Gucci brand. Harry hadn’t questioned the present when he’d received it— only an idiot would bat a cautious eye at such a luxury. He’d fallen in love with them the second they landed in his palms, decked out in a gorgeous satin box and wrapped with sparkly black tissue paper. The only words that had dared leave his lips were, “Fuck, I think I just got hard.”

The shoes had fit like a charm, and he had wanted to save them for a special occasion. But given that he has hundreds of years worth of special occasions lined up for his future, he’d shrugged off his pickiness and yanked them out the back of his closet for tonight. What better way to show them off than at an overhyped disco hall?

Harry flips his head right-side up once again, ruffling his fingers through his soft, shiny curls to check for any wet patches or stringiness. He rolls up the wire to his styling tool and puts it back in its designated spot, grabbing his favorite paddle brush and attentively filtering it through his hair until he gets the tousled waves that he’s grown so fond of sporting. He musses them until he’s satisfied with his appearance, nodding at himself casually in the mirror as he proceeds to wrap up the last few necessities he has left.

Harry buttons his blouse, admiring it in the fogged mirror. It’s a flowy sheer black piece with holographic threads sewn through its expanse, the fabric continuously shimmering with every shift of his muscles from underneath. He leaves the last three holes empty to better show off the dark butterfly inking on his lean chest and the swallows suspended in flight along his collarbones. He doesn’t really have to leave the shirt open, given that the material is see-through to the point where it leaves very little to the imagination, obvious in how all the tattoos along his arms are clearly visible. But he does it either way— he likes it when people stare. He’s got the assets, he might as well flaunt them.

Harry loosely tucks the hem of the shirt along the brim of his high-waisted beige slacks, which he’d ironed with precision to an ideal fold. He opts out of a belt tonight, wanting to display the array of elegant buttons that line the front of his pleated trousers. The pants hang slightly flared around his ankles, and if someone’s interests were intent enough, they might catch a glimpse of his favorite socks underneath the cusps, the words FUCK IT printed across the dark cotton fabric. He always makes sure to have an aspect in his outfit that could make for neat conversation.

The vampire pulls out one of his drawers, ghosting his fingers over his collection of jewelry before picking out a pearl necklace and his father’s gold-plated cross necklace, as well as a colorful array of rings. He makes sure to retrieve the most significant two, as always— his lionhead amethyst daylight ring and his mother’s opal. He never goes anywhere without them.

After he’s slipped on those accessories, bending and stretching his fingers for good measure and feeling everything settle into place, he picks out the gold cross earring that matches his necklace. It used to be part of a pair that belonged to his sister. As he watches the gold twinkle in the artificial light, he briefly wonders what happened to its twin, but pushes the thought away before it leads him down a path of pessimistic speculations.

Harry loops the dangly piece through his earlobe, sighing through his nose as his gaze jets around his entire look, searching for any possible faults he could tend to that would prolong the inevitable— another night of drunken morons and thick synthetic smoke.

Harry decides to fold the cuffs of his shirt up to his elbows, knowing that it makes his veiny forearms look appealing. He rummages through his selection of colognes before deciding to go with his trusty Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, spritzing a bit along specific pressure points on his neck where a pulse would otherwise be present, following along with the insides of his wrists. The scent of cloves, sugar-frosted vanilla, and cedar wood envelope him in a warm ambiance. After that task is complete, he fusses with his necklaces for a minute or so, settling the cross between his pectorals and resting the rosey pearls across his clavicle, fingering at their smooth surface in thought. Much to his defeat, everything seems to be in order, down to his freshly lacquered black nails. It’s not his fault he’s nearly flawless. His long— and unfortunate— extension on life had given him a plethora of years to work himself into a state of physical perfection. There’s only so much one can do to their appearance before it becomes superiorly stagnant.

Harry tunes his heightened hearing for a second, listening in to the conversation his friends are entertaining on the first level of his condo. Niall’s voice is the first one that comes through, unsurprisingly. He’s always the loudest and has zero filter, present in how he’s freely ranting about Harry’s exaggerated mannerisms as he paces back and forth across the floor, footsteps heavy. No one seems to be paying him any mind— As usual, Harry thinks to himself, snorting softly— because everyone appears to be caught up in their own personal lives, too lost in gossip and exchanging opinions to give the Irish vampire any thought.

None of his gang seem bothered by his lack of rush, but Harry knows he can’t keep them waiting forever. Fridays are the day they’d all collectively agreed to hunt together and it had been as so for almost twenty years. Being the leader, Harry can’t let his childish distaste for nightlife get in the way of what’s best for the group. He needs to hunker down on his selfish inclinations and be a responsible friend, or else a human might not be the only person Niall sinks his fangs into tonight.

With one final lingering stare at his reflection, Harry goes to retrieve his phone from its face-down position on the dark marble counter, simultaneously reaching for the light switch to begin powering down his apartment for the next couple of hours until he returns. Hopefully with a pretty girl hanging off his arm and less of a burn in the back of his throat. Although Harry may be cynical, he’s also practical; if he’s going to have to spend eternity on this planet, he may as well try to conserve enough energy to make it bearable. After decades of adjusting to electricity, the last thing Harry wants is to return to candlelit rooms and going to bed in time with the sun.

The sudden chime that shrieks from his device causes him to jump a tad, brows furrowing in mild confusion for a few reasons. First, because it’s such an odd coincidence that right as he went to grasp it, his smartphone had gone off; it’s almost spooky. Second, because anyone who would normally dare message him at this hour is currently sequestered downstairs on the cushions of his sectional sofa, waiting for him to emerge from his room. Who else could possibly need to contact him this late, especially at the beginning of the weekend?

Harry flips his red iPhone curiously (yes, he’d bought it in red for the purpose of irony), peering down at the unknown number shining back up at him from the screen.

The text is simple enough: Hey, accompanied by three disco ball emojis.

After a few seconds of blank blinking and adamantly searching through his mind for a clue as to who this could be, the answer smacks him square between the eyes. The memories come to him in quick flashes.

A bald bouncer with a stupid name. A two-story room with seven foot tall speakers and a bar nuzzled in the corner. A group of loud, tipsy girls in stilettos and glittery dresses. One girl, sitting amidst the ruckus looking alone and indifferent while everyone around her gave into inebriated chaos. Mitch urging him to go talk to her. The overwhelming smell of honey and lavender. Gentle caresses placed across the tattoos painting his arms. Pretty lips the color of fresh blood, drained glasses of liquor, and witty banter exchanged between suggestive glances and cheeky grins. Shouldering through a crowded dance floor with the young woman in tow. Settling her into the passenger’s seat of his Cadillac and feeling heat explode across his cold cheeks when she’d yanked him down by his collar, kissing him like his lips were her only source of air.

A quaint apartment complex, flickering lights in a corridor, and a worn couch. A warm mouth, smudged lipstick, teary eyes, and the gentle, shaky echo of, “I want to make you feel good.” High-waisted silk pants discarded on the floor, a cream lace blouse, and pastel pink lingerie. Thighs squeezing his head as her sweet taste spilled across his tongue. The mortal’s bare back pressed to his chest as he worked his hips roughly into her, mumbling dirty promises against her ear. Sugary whimpers and needy pleads. The warm, tangy flavor of her blood filling his mouth and sedating the burning in his throat. Childish giggles shared in a tiny flat, her warm fingers sewing between his icy own and tugging him into her room. A sleepless night full of steady breaths and only one heartbeat. A stupid tapestry and an ugly popcorn ceiling. A late morning strewn with sarcastic jokes mumbled over the rim of a coffee mug. Pulling his favorite t-shirt over his head and inhaling the sweet smell that had been glued to every thread.

Making a drastic decision and typing his information into her phone.

Harry doesn’t mean to speak aloud, but the name slips down his tongue as easily as he’d drawn moans from hers. “Y/N.”

It’s not like he didn’t remember her, because he did. And it’s not like he hadn’t thought of her since, because he had. But it’d been in passing and barely relevant— faint recollections in the form of fleeting seconds.

He’d thought of her a couple days ago, when he’d been wandering around the mall with his friends. They’d passed by a candle shop where, among all the mixed scents, there had been the unmistakable aroma of lavender and honey somewhere inside, smelling vaguely like her. She’d unwillingly made her way to the forefront of his mind when he’d gone to do laundry, picking out his baby blue Marc Jacobs t-shirt from his hamper and feeling his eyes dilate and fangs protrude— a result of animalistic instinct. As it turns out, she had left a bloodstain along the inside of the yellow collar of his tee. It was dried and crusted over by the time he found it, but the effect it had on him remained the same as the night he’d drawn it fresh from one of her arteries. He’d chucked the garment into the wash carelessly with hardly any hesitation.

The girl had even elbowed into his brain during an important self-care session. He’d been sitting in his glorified bathtub— which, in shallow honesty, is just a jacuzzi— with his cock twitching in his palm while his head hung over the edge, an orgasm teetering along the trench of his stomach as he’d repeatedly thumbed over his tip. When he’d finally coaxed himself into a climax, moans running freely across the empty halls of his home, the image he saw in those short moments of pure bliss was of her. It was Y/N, sitting in front of him with her hands clasped between her bare thighs obediently, his prick running along the length of her warm tongue as her eyes pleaded for him to cum.

But, as he’d stated before, the picture had only lasted a handful of seconds. As soon as his high had died down, it had disintegrated to ash, and he’d been left with a slightly startled mental imprint in its wake, which had faded away within minutes. He hadn’t thought of her since.

That is, until now. Until the surface of his jade eyes are reflecting the message his phone had just received at nearly ten P.M., her identity obvious in her choice of emojis.

A disco ball. The exact same character he’d assigned himself beside his name in her contact list. It was an inside joke; a result of the hatred they both shared for clubs, juxtaposed by the fact that they had met in one. It was a cute determining factor in their minimal acquaintanceship, and he’s always a sucker for a good paradox.

Harry continues to stare down at the text message, trying to conjure up some type of answer. She couldn’t have caught him at a better time, quite literally. She could be his saving grace tonight, if he plays his cards right. Maybe if he swoons her enough, she’ll invite him over again, and he can avoid another night full of shit-faced idiots and blinding strobe lights.

After careful consideration, he swipes open into their new text conversation and taps back a reply he deems appropriate, satisfied with how it shows his personality— the same one the mortal girl had been so taken with upon their first encounter.

Well, this is awkward. I don’t remember giving my number to a disco ball.

The vampire waits idly for a response, watching as the message delivers and is immediately marked by a read receipt. He doesn’t know why, but he likes that she has them on.

A swift pause follows— in which he has no doubt she’s probably attempting to come up with some type of witty remark to his— and then the three grey bouncing bubbles pop up, signifying that she’s typing back. His device bloops with her response, vibrating in his large palms.

Funny as ever, I see. It’s Y/N, from the club last Friday.

Harry’s slightly disappointed by her humor-lacking answer, but he’ll keep the interaction going for curiosity’s sake. Some people are fun in person and just not that bright virtually. Can’t always have it all.

Oh, hey, Y/N! So are you translating on behalf of the disco ball that wanted to talk to me or…?

He can practically see her eye rolling up at the grungy ceiling of her room and that notion makes his lips twitch.

Ha. Ha. Hilarious! But no, I’M the one who wants to talk to you, actually.

Harry can feel her sarcastic tone through this specific message and that gives him hope. Maybe she does have social networking skills.

Oh. Well, give the disco ball my best regards then, will you? Don’t want it to think I’m being rude and casting it aside.

The creature can’t see it, but now Y/N’s lips are the ones jolting as she sits on her bed in nothing but a towel, damp hair beading water down her naked shoulders and back.

How caring of you! I’ll pass on the message.

A full grin begins to edge across Harry’s cheeks as she returns his banter just as easily as she would face to face, dimples threatening to indent into place. That’s more like it.

His fingers poise over the keyboard, mind flicking through the different scenarios he could steer this conversation towards. He has to be perceptive and respectful, but also keep her entertained. He figures asking about her intentions is the best route to take, but he’ll do it subtly. Being too direct could come off pushy.

So...what gives me the honor of basking in your presence tonight, hm?

He adds a thinking face emoji to the end of the text as an afterthought. He rarely uses emoticons, but now is as good a time as any to start, especially because he has to seem like someone who belongs to her generation, rather than a Victorian era immortal.

Well, you said if I wanted more interior design advice to shoot you a text so...here I am, seeking your expertise.

Harry allows himself to break into a wide simper at the shrouded compliment. It goes right to his ego, just as he likes it. She’s smart.

My expertise, huh? I take it that my taste in wallpaper left you pretty satisfied last time, then?

A similar grin buckles Y/N’s face at his playful smugness and she bites into the side of her index finger to try and suppress it. After a moment of thought, she releases her digit from between her teeth and taps back.

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

Harry scoffs coyly, leaning his shoulder against the lightly fogged black marble wall of his bathroom, his friends and plans for the night all but forgotten. He’s having too much fun flirting to pay anything else much mind.

My pleasure, love. I’d be more than happy to give it again, anytime you need it. Just make sure to fill out the customer service survey my boss emailed you. I’m shooting for a raise and could really use the brownie points.

“Cute.” Y/N murmurs to herself in amusement, her chest fluttering as a result of the pet name, alongside how well they’re getting on. It’s almost like no time has passed at all. Almost as if they’re friends.

She’d been nervous to reach out, fearing that he’d see it and ignore her— or worse, leave her on read. Needless to say, this is going way better than she could’ve hoped

Already filled that out. Gave you five stars and everything. Would’ve given you six if it was allowed.

Harry shifts his weight against the surface he’s using for support, chuckling softly as he gnaws along the inside of his cheek. He feels like a teenager with all of this borderline childish back-and-forth. He’s not mad about it, though. It’s pretty enjoyable.

Thank you so much for your input! It’s taken into deep consideration. VERY deep consideration, if I recall correctly.

Warmth pours into Y/N’s cheeks at his innuendo, and she somewhat hates that he can get her all flustered without actually being present. He’s really good at this. A true lucky strike, to put it in his own words.

I’m glad my standards are held so highly, especially since I’m trying to book another advising appointment with you.

Is that so?

Very much so. How about tonight, if you’re free? I’ve got a dire situation with some wood paneling that I just can’t handle alone.

The vampire’s irises flare crimson red in triumph. It looks like he won't have to put himself through another mortifying ordeal tonight, after all.

I’m on a tight schedule, Y/N. These expertise are highly sought after, yanno?

Y/N snorts at his pompous joke. “Moron.”

Another text comes in from Harry before she can even think of a response.

However, I think I might be able to squeeze you in for a help session today. Say in about 10 to 15 minutes?

With newly brightened eyes, Y/N gives the message five repasses to make sure she’d interpreted it correctly. She can’t believe he’d agreed, especially at an hour when most people already have weekend plans cemented for the night. And by the length of time he’d given her to prepare, she’s extremely thankful she’d decided to shower prior to attempting a booty-call.

Sounds perfect. Do you need me to send you my address or do you remember, by some miracle?

Don’t worry about it, pet. I have a pretty good memory of that night. You made it hard to forget.

Another layer of heat crawls up her neck and into her ears. She knows this is a casual thing, at best, but for some reason, the idea that he had deemed her unforgettable makes her entire body feel like it’s glowing. She tries to brush it off, chalking up his compliment to how they’d seen each other barely a week ago so of course he remembered. It was fairly fresh in both their minds.

But Y/N is from an area where she was just another face in the crowd— another timid girl in an ocean of a hundred small-town carbon copies— and she’d certainly never referred to herself as anything particularly special. To have Harry, who is such a refined and attractive person, who most likely has dozens of hook-ups under his belt, call her that? Of all people? It just hits differently.

She shakes herself out of her head, remembering that a very interesting boy is waiting for a response on the other end of her phone.

Alright, then. See you in 10 to 15 minutes, Mr…?

Y/N comes to the realization that she doesn’t even know his last name. She doesn’t know the last name of the guy she’d let into her house and between her legs. God, if her parents could see her now...They’d blow California into a crater.

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles.

She immediately recognizes the reference, chewing at her bottom lip to keep a tab on a girly giggle. It’s probably not healthy how easily he reduces her into such a dopey puddle.

Alright, then, Mr. Harry Styles. See you soon?

Very soon. Can’t wait to show you the wood samples I just found.

With a sly smirk dimpling his cheeks, Harry pushes off the elegant stone wall of his luxury bathroom, locking his device and absentmindedly tapping it along his palm as he does a quick mind-sweep of the interaction he’d just had. He’s going to get his needs taken care of—both intimate and carnal— by a girl with whom he meshes with so well, no less. This night has taken an unexpected turn for the better, and he’s never been more thankful for making such a rash decision the morning after a one night stand.

The shrill boom of an Irish accent breaks Harry out of his flirty stupor, the sound bounding up the stairs of his flat and echoing off the tiles in his bathroom. “Harry, did you fucking desicate up there, you prick?!”

The vampire’s head snaps to the side towards where the sudden intrusion is originating, clearing his throat softly before answering, mostly to anchor himself back into the present. He’d been too busy floating in a daydream bubble to give his friends any proper attention. “I’m on my way down!”

Harry flicks off the light switch to his master bathroom, heading into his dimly lit bedroom and scooping up his wallet from its usual spot on top of the dresser. He tucks it into the wide front pocket of his slacks along with his cell phone, rounding the king-sized mattress at the center of his space, footsteps muffled by the thick maroon carpeting across the ground. He stops under the doorframe, giving his room one last calculating glance to make sure he isn’t leaving anything important behind. Once the creature is sure he’s set, he reaches over and slides the switch meter all the way down until the hanging lamps on the ceiling fade to black.

Harry clambers down the glass and metal staircase, passing the collection of original paintings organized across the expanse of the largest wall in his home. His friends spot him from the huge couch once he’s halfway down the steps, and of course Niall is the first to make his presence audible.

“Fucking finally.” The blue-eyed vampire groans in exasperation, shooting up from his seat beside Xander, arms falling across his lean chest. “I thought you’d died. Really died.”

Harry dismounts the last stair carefully, heeled boots making a soft clicking sound against the polished light-wash wood of his floorboards. He pushes a few rogue curls out of his eyes, the corners of his mouth jilting upwards teasingly as he regards the fellow immortal. “If I have to keep staring at that shitty paisley button-up you’re wearing, I just might.”

Niall’s irritated expression shatters into one of sheer hurt, hands fumbling with the silk fabric of his shirt, lips melting into a pained pout as he contemplates it sadly. His tone comes out whiney and defensive. “Hey! I really like this one!”

Harry side-steps the boy, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Your fashion sense makes me question my friendship with you.”

Niall’s face pinches with anger, thick brows furrowing as he roughly swats the brunette’s wrist away. “And your dickhead attitude makes me question mine.”

Harry’s jade eyes dance with evil glee as he returns his palm to where it had been resting before to give a curt squeeze, his rings playfully digging into the muscle beneath Niall’s top. “And yet here you are, sitting on my couch, waiting to get into my car. Funny how that works, innit? We benefit from one another. Mutualism at its finest.”

The Irish man shrugs himself free of his friend’s hold once again, glaring at him with darkening eyes, but there’s no true malice behind it. “More like parasitism.”

“So are you two gonna kiss now or what?” Mitch’s soft, mocking voice butts in as he drifts up beside Niall, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark denim straight jeans and his long hair tied back into a low ponytail. He’s wearing a light-wash Rolling Stones t-shirt he’d gotten at a concert he and Harry had attended back in the eighties, along with a pair of scuffed up sneakers. Pretty casual for a club— too casual, in Harry’s opinion. “The sexual tension is killing the audience.”

The green-eyed boy cranes his sight back onto Niall, raising his eyebrows in question and puckering his lips. “What d’you say, Ni? Wanna kiss this little disagreement better? I’m down.”

The pale young man makes a gagging noise, stepping away. “Don’t know where your mouth’s been. But if your bed fellows have anything to say about it, it’s nowhere good. I’m going to respectfully decline.”

“There was absolutely nothing respectful in that response.” Adam chimes in, chuckling as he bumps Niall’s shoulder with his own, hands clasped casually behind his back. “You need to work on your people skills.”

“My people skills are fine.” Niall quips back sarcastically. “Harry just isn’t a person, he’s a demon.”

“Technically, we all are.” The curly-haired vampire points out, walking over to his matte leather couch and retrieving a pin-striped, grey-black fitted blazer from its backrest. He tosses the jacket over his shoulders, shrugging it on and fixing the material over his torso, the curves of the piece accentuating the strong muscles of his back and the dip of his slender waist. “I just don’t care to hide it, really. Especially not when it comes to Niall’s taste in clothes. Which is rubbish, by the way. If that wasn’t clear before.”

“It was.” Niall deadpans, gaze half-lidded and petty.

Harry fixes the sleeves of his coat around his forearms, smoothing out any wrinkles and buttoning the cuffs. He momentarily ducks into the kitchen, his enhanced eyesight spotting the small digital time-stamp of the oven even from across the room. He has less than thirteen minutes before he has to be at Y/N’s flat. He should’ve suggested a longer time span.

Harry turns back around to fully face his crew, situating his collar into place by folding it along the back of his neck, appraising their expectant appearances. They’re all waiting for him. He’s the one driving, after all.

The immortal clears his throat, hands dropping to pat at his blazer pocket, making sure that his keys are in his possession. He sighs lightly through his nose, a knowing grin trying to force its way onto his lips but he keeps it at bay, wanting to maintain a straight expression to garner less backlash for the news he’s about to break.

“I’m not going.”

The pause that fills the atmosphere and the blank faces his friends dote are almost comical. Harry bats his eyelashes at them without a single twitch or jerk of his features. He wants them to understand he’s being serious.

After at least ten heartbeats— a guess, considering no one in the room has one to provide an accurate measurement— a raging exclamation explodes from behind the other three vampires in front of him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Harry watches in mild amusement as Xander stomps up from behind the group, shouldering between Mitch and Adam and sticking him with a glower dark enough to instill fear in any living being. But Harry is hardly living, and he’s definitely not scared of a vampire who’s practically a newborn. Xander’s the youngest of them in terms of the immortality scale— he’d transitioned back in nineteen ninety-six when he was thirty, which gives the illusion that he’s older when in reality, he isn’t— so Harry’s strength easily outmatches his. Xander is basically the puppy of the circle, and he’s certainly yappy and annoying enough to support that title. His lack of age and wisdom is also probably why he’s the most explosive.

Harry kinks an eyebrow up at the taller, tanned man, looping only one button through its designated hole in the middle of his jacket. That will allow him to show off what lies beneath it while also making sure the article won’t be a pest in the windy California night. “I’m not kidding. Something else came up that...peaked my interest.”

Xander’s fists momentarily clench by his sides and he then folds his arms across his lightly heaving chest, trying to hide his anger away along the insides of his elbows. He spits his words through gritted teeth, attempting to keep his cadence level. “What could have possibly come up so late that you only let use know after we waited for you for over an hour?”

Harry can’t stop himself from smirking this time around, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards with condescension. The statement that he produces is all too familiar to Xander, given that it mirrors the reply he had used on Harry exactly a week ago, when the leader of the group had asked him what his intentions were once they’d gotten inside their club for the night. “I have a date.”

Xander’s entire face flushes a faint shade of cherry red. His forearms tighten across his body, tone more strained than before as he actively wills himself to remain calm. “A date?”

The shorter vampire smiles at him with fake innocence, working his every nerve like it’s his job. Harry doesn’t know why, but pissing Xander off is always such a delectable pastime. “Yup. With a girl I met last week, actually.”

“You don’t go on dates.” Niall pipes up, looking around at the other men in the room in confusion, almost as if his comment should be obvious. “You rarely even spend the night. Said so yourself.”

Harry shrugs one shoulder indifferently, checking his reflection in the closest section of the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline, the lights of the cars and buildings below twinkling otherworldly. “I guess it’s less a date and more a booty-call, to be honest. I only agreed ‘cause it’s easier than having to drag my ass to that horrid club you chose to spend hours trying to find someone. This meal’s already prim, proper, and served. And I know for a fact I’ll enjoy it, so there’s no real harm.”

He turns back to Xander, the man’s peeved reaction tickling him more than he thought it would. “What was that you said last time, Xanny?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Oh, yeah! I'm just grabbing a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry’s friend’s cheeks dye a deeper shade of crimson, dark veins webbing across the iridescent whites of his eyes for a flickering second. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Harry counters the angry expression with a bright smile, his dialect dripping with arrogance. “Girls dig it. And you seemed to dig it, too, if I recall correctly. Remember? You might not. Post-orgasm amnesia and all that.”

Xander takes a measured inhale, releasing it slowly and allowing his anger to ebb away gradually, ignoring Harry’s blast from the past. His next question is physically directed towards their ex-chauffeur, but is truly aimed at the gang as a whole. “Who’s going to take us, then?”

The curly-haired vampire shrugs his shoulders once again, uninterested in the topic that is quickly growing old. “You could take Niall’s car. Problem solved.”

The whole clique lives in the same condo complex, mostly due to convenience. It’s already tricky for vampires to find others of their kind, so it’s a miracle that they’d all managed to end up together in the first place. And it’s an even bigger miracle that they got along well enough to form a tight-knit coven, which is the closest thing any of them now have to family. Living in close proximity is the ideal way of maintaining that rare bond, plus it allows them to help each other in staying safe and keeping their urges in line.

Since they all live in the same building, Niall’s car is in the garage right beside Harry’s, so transportation shouldn’t be an issue. They just always take his vehicle because he’s the only one that actually enjoys driving.

“Are you mental? Like actually, genuinely insane?” Xander sputters in appalled shock. “Niall drives like a lunatic!”

“Oi, piss off! Maybe you should learn to drive then, huh? Instead of having all those guys you shag take you everywhere.”

Xander ignores Niall’s insult, putting his palms up in disgust, backing away. “I refuse to get in a car with him behind the wheel. Dying once was good enough for me.”

“Did I miss the memo?” Niall snaps, glimpsing around at all the monsters standing around him, attitude tight with annoyance. “Y’know, the one where you all just decided to shit on me tonight?”

Harry bursts into an airy cackle, listing his head to the side as he gives Niall a humorous once-over, his dangly cross earring dabbing across the crisp cut of his coat’s shoulder blade. “You don’t necessarily make it hard, love.”

Niall’s jaw clenches as he narrows his icy blue eyes. “Xander’s right— you are an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, he’s also right about you driving like you’re on tranquilizers.” Adam sighs, running a palm up his face, using his index finger and thumb to massage either of his temples, despite the fact that they lack a pulse. “I guess I could drive? I hate it, but Mitch hates it more, so I’m our best bet. Better than Road Runner over here.”

“Yeah, just keep talking about me like I’m not present. That’s fine. I’m spitting venom in all your drinks tonight.”

“Well,” Harry boasts abruptly, interrupting the game of verbal ping-pong happening in front of him, taking a quick peek at his phone for the time. As much as he loves causing some good-natured chaos between his friends, he has less than ten minutes to make it to Y/N’s apartment on time and traffic’s a bitch at this hour. “I have nothing to do with this anymore, so I’m just gonna take my leave. You lot have fun figuring this out.”

He swivels around on his heel, striding away with his usual haughty air straightening his back, heading towards the corridor that leads to the front entrance of the apartment. The softly lit hallway swallows his silhouette and for the first time since he’d left the secluded confines of his bathroom, he allows a giddy smile of excitement to tweak his lips. Just for a second and not a moment longer. If his friends had seen it, they would’ve taken the piss.

Niall’s accent cuts through the air, prickling at his ears as the glossy, cold doorknob comes into contact with his even colder fingers. “I can’t believe you’d abandon us just to get laid!”

“Lock the door on your way out!”

///

When a sharp knock echoes across Y/N’s flat, she nearly screams.

Her nerves have been on edge since the last text she’d received; only after reading that final cheeky message had the reality of the situation hit.

This isn’t her. This isn’t her at all.

Inviting a total stranger into her home and into her bed was something she’d never experienced before last week. One night stands were very few and very far for her— she could count all the ones she’d had on a single hand, and even then they had been with people she had known to some extent— and it was due to the fact that this type of situation is slathered in mystery and unsureness. Giving herself up in such an intimate manner to someone she wasn’t acquainted to in some shape or form…It comes with a certain amount of risk, both physically and emotionally, which is why she hardly ever engaged in such activities before Harry.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with having that type of exhilarating fun in your life— she praises the women who can go around so confidently and express their sexuality however they please— but she herself had been raised under a roof that was moderate and conservative, and that environment had molded her into the person she had grown up to be. Those traditional concepts ran through the core of her being, and no matter how hard she tried to shake them, they refused to break loose. They weighed on her shoulders, constantly making her second-guess her motives and desires, most of which go against the status quo that had been implemented into her brain from a young age. This— whatever this is— is a huge step for her; it’s the first attempt she’s made to take over her own life and go against the grain she’d been accustomed to her whole existence.

From the second Y/N had arrived here in Los Angeles and set a foot off the plane, she had been alone. Everyone who cared for her was miles and miles away and she was starting a new chapter on a completely blank page, with no one to guide her hand as she wrote. For the two months she’d spent settling in and trying to meld into her new environment, she had gone at it with a sense of emptiness hollowing the pit of her stomach. No one was there to comfort her during the rough patches, and no one cared enough yet to assure her that things would turn out alright. No one had bothered to tell her she was safe and that nothing would hurt her. No one made themselves available the way people did back home.

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago.

Their encounter had been purely for sexual gratification, but during that short time they shared, she vividly remembered him telling her that she could trust him. It was a preposterous statement to make— asking someone to trust you when you didn’t even know their last name— but the gaze in his emerald eyes had seemed so genuine and encouraging, and his voice had been so gentle and soothing, and his touch had been so delicate and consoling...That strange young man— with the pretty curls, intriguing tattoos, and dazzling smile— had somehow managed to untie the knot of unease that had been sitting in her belly for the last couple of weeks. She’s stumped on how he’d managed to wriggle it free; the only thing she can effectively say took a part in it was his eyes. There was just such a glass-like quality to them that reminded her of a mirror. It was like they were reflecting all her emotions back at her, using their familiarity to compel her into a state of mental peace. She’d appreciated it more than she’d let on.

Something tells Y/N that this is the reason she had contacted him. She wanted to feel that safety net he had provided her with once again. She didn’t need an emotional connection from Harry, she just needed a bit of mental relief. She wanted something to take her mind off all her troubles. Something to distract her, even if it was only for a few hours. And with the way Harry had handled her last time, she knows he’s more than capable of helping her reach those goals.

Y/N doesn’t think anyone has ever made her feel how Harry had that semi-drunken Friday night. She’d been with a few other people before, and had even been in a long-term relationship with someone she had once thought would end up being her husband, but none of those men came close to this peculiar stranger.

In the town she was from, it was typical for people to marry their high school sweethearts. It was a small region where everyone either knew one another or knew of one another, so it wasn’t difficult to find someone that could fit into the role that needed to be filled. The person she had found was a boy by the name of Bradley, who she had begun to date their freshman year of high school.

They’d met through mutual friends and he’d invited her to their first ever homecoming dance, where she had felt like everything was falling into place almost like in a movie. He was cute, with hazel eyes, sun-bleached hair, and freckles that jolted every time he laughed. He was polite, funny, and treated her with enough respect and dignity to keep her hooked for a while. Things had gone pretty well the four years they were together in high school; their relationship wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exciting either. It was just...secure. He was there, and he was willing to give her his attention, and that’s all that really mattered to her at the time. She thought that was all she needed.

Then graduation came and went, and so did Bradley. He left for college, set on the intention that they would make long distance work somehow. To keep a long story short, it hadn’t worked out how they expected. As the months passed, she noticed he started to separate himself from her more and more. The video chats are what disappeared first; what used to be a daily FaceTime call turned into a weekly one and then, if she was lucky, a monthly one. Phone calls followed the same fate. Texting became a chore rather than something to look forward to and she could feel him slipping, which left her feeling helpless because he was in another state, far away and too out of reach to appropriately solve anything. Energized conversations slowly faltered into five-word messages, which eventually teetered into barely any communication at all.

When Y/N heard the news that he’d cheated on her, it didn’t even come from him. It came from his roommate. Things ended swiftly after that, which was the saddest thing of all. Almost five years of her life, completely gone to waste. Handling the pain was a whole other misery she’d had to shoulder, alongside the embarrassment and humiliation, which stemmed from the fact that she was aware her peers had heard about the whole ordeal. With the help of her family and friends, she’d eventually gotten over the heartbreak. The weird thing is, she doesn’t think she loved him. She loved the idea of him— loved that he represented everything she had been raised to seek in a relationship. They’d grown up together, their families knew one another, they shared the same friends, they had common hobbies. It was like a match made in heaven, though after it broke off, she quickly came to the realization that it hadn’t been made in heaven at all. Made in a test tube was a more fitting analogy.

Y/N’s love life after that painfully slow cliche disaster consisted of random boys around town she recognized from school and work. The hook-ups were fleeting and hardly satisfying, but at least they were something. She soon found out that she could do better on her own, but whenever she craved someone else’s touch, she was grateful to have anyone she could get. She’d mainly stuck to the same guys for the sake of consistency; it was easier having people she already knew how to please and vice versa, though she’ll admit it was mostly a one way street. Men can be so clueless sometimes that it’d be funny if it wasn’t so irritating.

Then Y/N had skipped town and closed off sexually for a while. She had stayed shut down until Harry had walked into her life with that stupid sly smirk and his unorthodox— yet surprisingly attractive—fashion sense, sipping straight tequila like a fucking psycho from the cup in his jeweled fingers. He’d waltzed right onto the stool beside her at the bar, right out of the club with her hand in his, and then right past the doorframe of her apartment, kindly gifting her the best sex of her entire life. He’d worked her every desire with a certain skill and awareness she had never experienced (not from any of her past lovers, and definitely not from Bradley’s vanilla tendencies), dismantling her body as if he’d known her for decades, leaving her sore and aching in a way she didn’t know was humanly possible.

And now here Y/N is, pacing back and forth from her small living room to her even smaller kitchen, chewing along the knuckle of her forefinger as she tries to tie down the jitters running amuck in her belly.

She repeatedly smooths down the dress she’s wearing, claiming that it’s to get rid of the wrinkles, but in truth, it’s to wipe the dampness from her palms. The outfit had been a birthday present from her cousin the year before and she’s rarely worn it since the move, which is a direct result of her lack of socializing. She only ever really leaves her home for groceries and to attend work, neither of which call for a pretty sundress and strappy tan sandals. Despite having gone out to the club a few times, the dress doesn’t fit that scene either. LA gets a bit chilly at night and she has yet to grow accustomed to the city’s weather. Wearing this after-hours would surely end with her acquiring a mild case of hypothermia.

The garment is a light blue baby doll design, littered with tiny daffodil prints of varying shapes and colors. It stops about three-fourths down her thigh, fluttering outwards in layered flares, its bandeau-style top held in place by thin straps of the same fabric. She figured she’d deck herself out nicely; from the one interaction she’d had with Harry, she can tell he’s a person of refined taste. It was evident in his expensive clothing and his wide variety of precious rings. She doesn’t know why, but there’s a toiling in the pit of her tummy urging to impress him.

Y/N’s hair has been freshly washed and blow-dried, her legs thoroughly shaved into silk, and she’d applied a light layer of makeup, done in anticipation that anything heavier would likely end up smeared across her face— a result of sweat and Harry’s dominant persona. Simply reflecting on his commanding sensual presence makes her self-pedicured toes curl in her sandals.

Y/N hadn’t been sure on how to prepare for his arrival. She wasn’t versed in advanced hook-up culture— her raunchiest experience was in the backseat of someone's 2004 Toyota Corolla. She doesn’t want to get this wrong. Going overboard would make him feel smothered and awkward, but underselling would give him the impression that she doesn’t have any respect for him, save for what lies between his legs. Those are the last two things she wants him to gather from this.

She’d settled for pulling out a bottle of red wine that had been a house-warming present from the landlord. Not too shabby, but not too loud. And who doesn’t enjoy a cup of half-decent wine on a Friday evening, right?

Y/N had just finished arranging two glasses— which she’d found at the thrift shop down the street for a steal— onto the counter of her kitchen when that swift rapping sound had broken through the tense air of her home, echoing from the front door and causing a yelp to lodge in her throat.

Ice shoots through her veins. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She takes a handful of penetrating breaths, concentrating on how the cool air feels expanding her lungs. The technique aids in calming some of her nerves, grounding her just enough that she can will herself to move without her knees giving out. Y/N tentatively makes her way down the corridor that leads to her front door, heart hammering against her ribs. She shouldn’t be this riled up— he’s literally already been inside her. There’s pretty much nothing she can hide from him at this point.

On the other side of the door, Harry is blissfully ignorant to the panic attack threatening to overcome Y/N.

The vampire leans his shoulder against the frame of the somewhat raggedy door, arms crossed over his thick chest as his gaze bounces judgmentally around all the patches of peeling paint. He chews at a piece of gum— which he’d popped into his mouth on the drive over to make sure he tastes as delectable as always— in slow, lazy motions, jaw flexing as he unconsciously pops an array of tiny bubbles with his teeth, waiting for Y/N to emerge.

Harry glances up at the flickering light bulb in the hallway of the complex, nose scrunching in distaste at the annoying flashing. She really needs to get a better place, he thinks, reaching up and dragging the pad of his middle finger along the curve of his bottom lip, absentmindedly wiping off a bit of extra chapstick that had colored outside the lines when he’d applied it. He always tries to keep his mouth soft, especially when he knows he’s going to be using it. Plus, the vanilla bean flavor pairs well with mint.

The sound of a seal cracking open yanks his attention, the door before him slowly swinging inwards. Cool air pours from inside, bathing him in a scent that his frenzied instincts had been subconsciously craving the last couple of days. Harry cranes his neck over his shoulder, spitting his gum out and not bothering to watch where it lands. He turns back just as Y/N’s familiar figure comes into view.

The first thing he notices is the dress.

Fuck, the dress.

It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sundress, but it fits her like it was made specifically for the purpose of testing his restraint. He rakes his gaze up and down her body shamelessly, much like he had on the night they met.

The light blue background and rainbow miniature floral print compliments her skin tone nicely, making it stand out below the dingy light hanging above their heads. The piece lands about halfway down her thigh, fanning around her legs slightly in frilly folds, tempting him with that bit of innocent exposure. An image of him ripping the dress up her thighs races across the forefront of his mind and he can feel his fangs momentarily break through his gums.

As Harry draws his sight upwards, the minimal throbbing between his legs only amplifies. The dress cinches just below her bust, accentuating her chest, and he comes to the painful realization that she’s not wearing a bra underneath; she doesn’t need it due to the bralette-like top. One simple tug of his index finger would leave her completely bare and that conclusion causes a sweltering itch to erupt along the back of his throat.

Harry’s irises finally come to rest on her face, finding that the rest of the human girl’s look appears just as it had last week. Minimal makeup, no accessories, and the smell of chamomile shampoo strung through her hair, though it’s easily smothered by her natural scent of flowers and sugar. He also finds that while he had been blatantly undressing her with his eyes, she had delighted herself in doing the same. Watching her gawk at him hungrily caresses his ego immensely, evident in how the edges of his mouth kink.

Y/N doesn’t mean to ogle, she really doesn’t. But from the instant he’d come into view, standing there propped against her threshold with his ankles crossed and his lean arms folded over his strong chest, she couldn’t control it. He just looks so fucking good— better than last time, which she didn’t think was plausible— and she gets the feeling that he knows he looks borderline godly.

Harry’s clad in what appears to be a sheer mesh flouncy button-up with holographic threads speckled through the material, shimmering under the dim atmosphere of the hallway. The last three holes of the shirt are left open, exposing his tanned pectorals and thoroughly inked chest. Last time they had been together, she’d been too distracted by the aching between her thighs to properly notice the swallow tattoos along his collarbones and the giant butterfly at the crest of his stomach. But now, she stares at them freely as they expand and contract with his easy breaths, her mouth beginning to water.

The blouse is covered by a dark pinstriped blazer, the crisp shoulder blades of the jacket complimenting his broad frame as the curves dip along his waist alluringly. The loose top is tucked in along the brim of yet another pair of high-waisted trousers, though they are creme-colored instead of copper. The ironed pants give way to a pair of glossy black heeled boots, which are bedazzled along the back of the two-inch elevation, the jewels twinkling in the shape of a word that she can’t make out at this angle.

Harry’s collection of luxurious rings and necklaces adorn their usual spots and she gets the impression that he never leaves home without them. His gold cross earring sways back and forth lightly, her warped reflection cast across its surface and staring back at her numbly.

Harry breaks through the haze his physique had cast on her brain.

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.”

A shiver slithers down her spine at the deep baritone of his voice, English accent slathered across every syllable and dripping with suggestive teasing. She’d forgotten how sultry he sounds, even when he’s not actively striving for it.

Y/N’s attention jets up from where it had been pasted to his body, the expression across his handsome features one of snarky self-assurance, which tells her she’d been caught. Indents cave into his cheeks, twitching with glee as he bats his lashes slowly, eyes going half-lidded in amusement. He looks so sinful with those shiny ringlets curling around his small ears, framing his sharp jaw and kissing the nape of his neck, alongside those raspberry red lips and the emerald hue sparkling around his pupils. She can’t tear herself away.

After an elongated second of silence on her part, Harry raises one of his sculpted brows expectantly, letting her know he’s waiting for a response. Heat overflows Y/N’s cheeks and buzzes across the shells of her ears.

“H-Hi. Uh— Nice to see you. Too. Nice to see you, too.”

An odd sense of déjà vu flags in the back of her skull and she’s reminded that this is exactly how they’d met the first time around— with her making an utter fool of herself, much to his entertainment.

The crescent above his top lip curves upwards as a result of his grin widening. He taps the tip of his elegant shoe patiently against the cement ground, arms shifting against his chest and she can see the way his biceps strain the fabric of his coat. He’s just so fit.

Harry’s tone comes out playful and lighthearted. He doesn’t need to be invited in again since she’s already explicitly allowed him in before, but he asks anyways, out of courtesy. “Can I come in? Or are you planning on taking me dancing or summat?”

The laugh that escapes Y/N is dense with a nervous edge, but it’s better than a stuttering jumble of incoherent words. She moves out of the way, flushing her back to the wall of the tiny entrance corridor and leaving just enough room for him to squeeze by. “Yes, come on in! Sorry.”

“You’re alright, darling.” The tall vampire steps forward into the mortal’s home, turning sideways as he does so, chest pressing against her own. He glances down at her lips for a flash of a moment, then back to her eyes. “Thank you.”

Y/N’s grip on her doorknob tightens. She looks up at him through her lashes, bottom lip barely trembling. “No problem. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.”

Harry runs his tongue across his teeth, pressing it to the inside of cheek as he absorbs the mildly erotic image of Y/N decked out in a frilly dress, glancing up at him shyly as her chest heaves slightly against his own. “Well, I couldn’t leave you to handle that pesky wood paneling all on your own, now could I?”

A smile ghosts over her delicate lips as she shuts the door and locks it, not breaking eye contact. “How generous of you. My hero.”

Far from it, love.

Y/N slips out from where Harry had wedged her to the wall, beckoning him after her with a gentle turn of her head. The creature tucks his hands into his front pockets, following her down the narrow stretch. They drift past her room (he makes sure not to look in and spare himself the horror of seeing that dumb tapestry) and past her bathroom, into the expanse of her living area. It’s just as small and cozy as he remembers it and he can’t stop himself from scoffing lightly as his sight drifts over the couch. Good memories.

“Would you like some wine?” Y/N’s question carries softly from inside her kitchen. She’s already gripping the glass bottle in her hand, attempting to pull out the cork, and she hadn’t thought of needing a wine-opener until now. Fuck.

Harry makes his way to join her, passing underneath the archway and taking the spot across from the girl. He leans his lower back on the counter, hands remaining perched casually in his slacks. “I’d love some.”

“Great.” She huffs, twisting stubbornly at the spongy cap with all the might she can muster, the rough surface scratching her palm. “Let me just— just get this open.”

Harry’s head lists sideways as he wards off a chuckle. “Want some help?”

Y/N releases an irritated grunt, shoulders slumping a tad as she fails to get the top loose. She holds out the bottle towards her visitor, titling it from side to side in surrender. “Be my guest.”

The immortal pulls his hands out from his pockets, taking the container from her grasp and the human notices how they dwarf the bottle. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is.

Harry wraps his ring-clad digits around the cork, giving it one easy twist and Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off as she hears a pop tinge the air. Harry offers her the wine and cap in return, licking his lips to avoid laughing in her face. Supernatural strength always delivers.

“How…?” Y/N’s owlish eyes flicker back and forth between Harry’s cocky expression and the object in his hands. “How did you even...?”

The brunette gives her a nonchalant shrug. “Guess you loosened it up for me, Thor.”

She gingerly takes the beverage and its accompaniment from his outstretched palms, blinking at him in mild shock. Her slight unease is swiftly phased out, however; a result of his cute banter. It was probably just a lucky coincidence. “I guess so.”

Y/N pours out two glasses of the dark red liquid, handing one to Harry, feeling her heart skip a beat when he wraps his hold around the stout flute and their fingers brush. He stays like that for a heartbeat, with his icy digits sifted between hers, the amber specks in his irises glittering like diamonds. Then, the moment is over and he pulls away slowly, guiding his drink up to his plush lips. She hates how he can leave her so breathless without a single hitch.

The girl watches as Harry takes a leisurely sip of the alcohol, his gaze dancing around her kitchen curiously as she finishes recapping the bottle and scooting it into the corner of the counter.

A thought dawns on her as soon as she focuses back onto the boy before her. Harry looks weird. He looks so weird standing in her small, dingy kitchen with its worn wooden cabinets and fake marble tabletop. He looks so out of place, dressed head to toe in designer brands and fancy fabrics, hands and neck decorated with posh jewelry, and the unmistakable smell of an expensive cologne wafting from his masculine throat. And he most certainly is out of place when it comes to who he’s associating with. He’s out of Y/N’s league, not only physically, but in his behaviors, as well. It’s so obvious it almost hurts.

Yet here Harry is, looking polished and stylish, while she’s sporting a mere sundress that was probably bought off the clearance rack at Kohl’s. It just doesn’t mix, and she finds herself wondering why he’d chosen her in the first place. When she had voiced similar concerns the day they’d slept together, he had told her it was because she was timid and he wanted to see if he could break through that. But Y/N isn’t stupid. There has to be some other reason. Why else would a rich bachelor pay attention to a small-town runaway in a measly floral—

“I like your dress.”

Y/N glances up at Harry from where her mind had fallen, startled by the sudden interference in her dark thoughts. She’d been tracing across the slope of his structured jaw, mesmerized by how it would grow taut every time he swallowed down a gulp of his beverage.

She had ambled so deep in her head, she barely manages to mutter a passable answer. “Oh, thank you! I’ve had it for a bit, but I barely wear it.”

The edges of the vampire’s mouth quirk around the rim of his glass, creases wrinkling along the corners of his bright eyes. “It suits you nicely. A beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.”

Y/N’s belly somersaults, a sheepish giggle running along the undercurrent of her next mumble, so low it’s hardly audible. “Thank you. Again. Thought I’d bring it out for a special occasion.”

Harry’s eyebrows jump upwards at her comment. He draws his wine glass from between his lips, resting it against his hard stomach and gifting the human a cheeky once-over. “So I’m a special occasion, now, am I?”

Y/N looks down at the straps of her sandals, fighting off a grin. She shrugs one shoulder offhandedly, bringing her cup to her mouth and taking a long drag of the sweet liquor, feeling it wash across her tongue and leave a warm glow in her tummy. “Maybe.”

Harry hums teasingly in his throat, tapping his pinky pensively along the bottom of his glass, opal ring clinking against the crystalline surface. The color of his drink makes the black polish on his nails stand out almost artistically. “I’ll take any compliment I can get, especially from those pretty lips.”

Another wave of heat flushes across the apples of Y/N’s cheeks. “You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?”

The monster tips back another swig of wine, savoring the notes of wild cherry and pomegranate in its palate. Not bad, especially for what he can tell is a ten dollar bottle.

He cocks his head to the side, irises glitzing knowingly amidst his long lashes. “I think we’re both aware that I most certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

Y/N’s stare snaps up to lock with his, the faintest whimper stringing her vocal chords. If it wasn’t for Harry’s heightened hearing, he would have never known it’d happened. But he does, and he can feel the throb between his thighs spike as a result. The sounds she makes are just as wonderful as he remembers.

The sexual tension suspending in the room is practically palpable. After a bundle of her heartbeats— which is gradually rising in intensity— echo in his ears, he decides to speak up again.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

The statement can be taken into so many different contexts and that’s why Harry chose it. She could interpret it as innocent admiration on behalf of a smitten lover, or as another layer of sensual praise. It’s versatile, successful either way.

Y/N blinks at him exactly three times in surprise. “You have?”

She’d been thinking about him, too. Non-stop. And now that she knows it’s mutual, she doesn’t feel so nervous anymore. It reassures her that they’re on the same page of this messy novel written about their undefined association. Or that they are at least within the same chapter.

Harry bobs his head in confirmation, indulging another sip of wine, letting it filter through his taste buds slowly. His glass is almost empty. “Mmhm. Walked past this candle store at the mall the other day and they had one burning that smelled just like you.”

His confession is sweet and it makes the tips of her fingers tingle. Y/N copies his action, taking another gulp of her beverage, attitude airy and inquisitive. “Is that so? And what do I smell like?”

Harry’s response is immediate and confident, almost as if he’s spent time thinking on the subject prior to today. “Honey and lavender.”

Y/N nods her head in wonder, laughing gently. “That’s oddly specific.”

Harry feels like he’s been smacked between the eyes with an iron rod. That was an idiot move. Absolutely moronic.

He just now comes to terms with how intimate the comment he’d made had been. It suggests that he’s pondered on this topic, which gives the impression that he could be more interested in her than he actually is. He doesn’t need this loose connection turning into some type of cliche romantic comedy; he doesn’t have the space, patience, or emotional stability for it. And certainly not with someone he’s only fucked once.

The vampire clears his throat, figuring that he can clean up this metaphorical spill by throwing a bit of crudeness at it. “Then yesterday I had a donut, yeah? One of those cream-filled ones. And when I took a bite of it, all the cream just came oozing out and I was like, ‘hm, this reminds me of someone…’”

The slightly endeared expression on Y/N’s face crumbles to dust, voice shrill and indignant at his lewd analogy. “You fucking perv!”

Harry sputters into a round of boyish cackling, nearly wheezing when her foot reaches over and strikes him on the shin. He clasps over his stomach with his free hand, head falling back in glee as her features pinch in embarrassed disgust. He manages to speak between bursts of giggles, water gathering along his tear ducts due to how hard he’s laughing. “I’m just being honest!”

“No, you’re being a gross little fourteen year old asshole!” Y/N exclaims incredulously, but she can’t keep herself from joining in on his boasts of amusement.

His laughter is contagious. It’s loud and unapologetic in a manner she rarely sees in anyone and he just looks really fucking cute with his dimples jolting and smile lines creasing. It’s hard to stay mad at him, though it’s not like she’d truly been upset in the first place.

Harry reigns himself in, inhaling deep breaths and wiping at his tears with the back of his large hand as a joyful groan rumbles in his chest. A few more giggles sneak out when he sees Y/N’s flat expression, but he manages to stifle the rest. His tone is jesting, poking fun. “If it makes you feel any better, I was respectful enough to wipe the donut down with a napkin, as well.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry grins down snidely at the last inch or so of alcohol left in his glass, bringing it to his mouth and downing it all in one go. He places the cup down carefully on the counter behind him, his arms finding their way across his stomach, fingertips momentarily tapping at his elbows. He appraises a playfully grouchy Y/N, pursing his lips to hide a smirk.

He watches as she takes another small taste from her drink, her pulse lulled by its contents. She’s not drunk by any means— not even buzzed— but it had helped calm the tittering in her throat that Harry had been able to detect earlier. She’s relaxed now, all anxiousness washed away by the small serving of liquor and his inappropriate (and extremely funny, if he does say so himself) jokes.

The creature thinks it’s proper time he gets what he came for.

“I really am glad you reached out, though.” Harry starts, an easygoing smile nudging across his alcohol-swollen mouth. “Truly.”

Y/N snorts sarcastically, attempting to hide how his comment had made her pulse sharpen. He’d heard it anyways. “Oh, are you? Truly?”

Harry pushes himself off the edge of the counter, slowly sauntering over to Y/N, who instinctively draws back further against the tabletop behind her. She ogles at him from below heavy lashes, glass still perched between her tinted lips, excited anticipation written all over her body language. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her, rising a few notches the closer he gets.

“Yeah.” Harry’s arms unfold, one stretching over her shoulder to prop his palm against the cupboard behind her head, the other fiddling with the seam of his blazer. He slides his forefinger and thumb along the single buttoned hole, giving it a rough tug and allowing his jacket to spring open. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun interior designing with anyone. Not for a while.”

Y/N glimpses down at where his coat had parted, drinking up the sight of his lean torso behind the see-through material of his shirt. Now that he’s nearly pressed against her, his scent is stronger than before, burying her under smoky notes of vanilla and seasoned firewood. A familiar heat pools between her clasped thighs.

When she pipes up, it’s shaky and whispered, covered in a dreamy undercurrent. “Yeah, me either. It felt...nice.”

Harry’s irises flash crimson for a millisecond, but she’s too occupied gawking at his tight stomach to notice. His dialect takes on a low, seductive twang, the breath of his words fanning across her face. All she can smell is wine, mint, and...vanilla chapstick?

“It felt really nice.”

Y/N’s view drags up to land on his lips. They look as soft and appetizing as last time, tempting her to just drop her flute onto the floor and replace it with his mouth. “Extremely nice.”

An outside force suddenly tips her glass upwards and she realizes it’s Harry’s fingers. He nudges her cup until the liquid inside funnels towards her mouth, his intentions set on helping her finish it off. She drains the wine obediently, staring up at him dazed and moony, feeling a few drops escape along the sides of her mouth and tickle down her chin. The jade-eyed boy then gently pries the glass from her fingertips, reaching over and placing it inside her sink to be handled later.

Y/N’s hands fall flat against his thick chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily below her grasp as he takes a step forward, their bodies completely flushing together. His palm trails up the exposed sliver of her thigh, diving a couple of inches below her dress and giving the outer area a hard squeeze. He doesn’t go any further; he won’t until she explicitly asks for it. He’s a prick about a lot of things, but never consent.

Harry leans down, running the tip of his cold nose along her clenched jaw, his warm tongue peeking out to collect the streams of wine that had dripped out. The contrast in sensations makes her knees buckle and what he murmurs hotly against her skin doesn’t help in calming those motions at all.

“Wouldn’t mind making you feel that nice again.”

Y/N’s mind stalls, overwhelmed by his touch and smell. She can feel him sponging tender kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she can feel the palm of his hand massaging at her thigh needily. She can feel his breaths quickening in pace the longer he’s around her, and she can feel the foundation of a moan building in his lungs in the form of small vibrations, which run across her palms and twitch her fingers. She can feel everything; she’s never been more hyper-aware of her surroundings than now. And all because of this one mysterious young man.

When Y/N finally speaks, Harry feels relief flood his system, though it is swiftly replaced by intense desire.

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.”

That’s full permission if he’s ever heard it.

Harry’s other hand drops from its spot against the cupboard behind her, joining its partner on her opposite thigh. He coasts his palms fully below her flowy dress onto her hips, a lascivious simper crawling across his cheeks at the lack of extra fabric beneath her clothes. “No panties tonight?”

The human swallows heavily, shaking her head as she leans it back against the wooden cabinets, giving him access to her throat. At the sight, the vampire’s fangs protrude, cutting into the inside of his lower lip as venom fills his mouth. He wills himself to maintain control. It’s difficult, considering his sharp eyes can make out the chiseling of her arteries pumping blood just beneath her delicate skin, but he forces composure into his behavior nonetheless. With all of the lights on and Y/N completely sober, he knows he won’t get away with another mid-fuck stunt like the one he pulled last time they were in this position.

Instead, he distracts himself with what he can draw from her at this very moment— another unbelievable orgasm.

“Such a filthy little fucking thing.” Harry growls, smearing his lips down the center of her jugular, nipping love bites into her flesh but making sure not to split it open. “S’that how bad you wanted it when you texted me? So bad that you didn’t even bother to wear anything underneath?”

Y/N whines softly when he passes over a particularly tender spot along her neck, shuttering against his chest. “Y-Yes.”

A low chuckle rolls from Harry’s wandering tongue as he hones in on the area that had coaxed such a delicious reaction. “Fuck, that was such a pretty noise. Are you sensitive here, baby?”

Y/N nods with fervor, running her touch up his pectorals and over his strong shoulders, diving under his coat and fisting at the mesh that strains across his muscular back. Her eyes roll closed, her next confession coming out in the form of a feathery sigh, legs parting wider for him to comfortably fit in between. “I just...I just need you.”

Harry eagerly accepts the invitation, sifting between her thighs and hiking them up onto his hips. The fact that he can suspend her so effortlessly, almost as if she weighs nothing, makes the pit of her tummy boil. “You need me now, d’you? How much, doll? Want you to tell me how much you missed my cock.”

The young woman winces ever so slightly at the crude word and it amuses him to no end. “So fucking much, Harry.”

He can confidently say his name has never sounded sweeter than when it trickles from Y/N’s tongue.

When he speaks, it’s packed with all the pent up turmoil radiating deep in his abdomen. “Did you think about me the way I thought about you?”

Y/N’s reply falls breathily from her mouth without any hesitation. “Y-Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

A cocky hum tinges the air on his behalf. “And why’s that?”

“Because…” The girl struggles to swallow, finding it difficult to match how easily brazen he can be. She pushes through. “Because you fucked me better than anyone else ever has.”

The compliment is one Harry gets often, but for some inexplicable reason, it hits so much deeper coming from Y/N. “Mm. Poor baby just needed to get properly rawed, didn’t you?”

“Had no idea how badly I wanted it until you came along.”

A dark chuckle rolls from the creature’s lips at her bluntness. He repeatedly passes his textured tongue over the pressure point on her throat, flames igniting in his chest when she releases another watery, desperate mewl. “God, look at you. Practically already dripping. Like it when I play with you like that?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

And so Harry keeps going, and he doesn’t stop. Not at her neck, and not anywhere else. Not until she begs him to hours later, when he’s whittled three orgasms out of her trembling body, each one more intense than the last.

The first one takes place right there on top of the kitchen counter. He boosts her up onto the table, bunching her pretty sundress around her quivering thighs— as he’d fantasized prior— while she fumbles with his trousers. He tends to her every breathy whimper as she eases him out of his briefs, marking his teeth all over her throat with the assurance that his blood will fade the bruises by morning. He tears his jacket down his broad shoulders, panting into her mouth as she undoes all the buttons that line his elegant iridescent shirt, moaning softly when she breaks their kiss to paint her hot lips down the expanse of his heaving chest and tight stomach. Y/N ducks down as far as her angle will allow, wanting to taste as much of his skin as she can. She wants to memorize its salty smoothness for as long as she lives.

Harry watches her with bliss-drunken fondness twitching his mouth, head falling back to hang between his shoulders as a low, “Such a good girl.” rumbles from his throat. His ring-clad fingers tangle into her locks and scratch at her scalp lightly, strained exhales encouraging her to keep going as she delights herself with tainting love bites all over him. He yanks the girl back up by her roots, grabbing her hips and roughly scooting her forward towards him, clammy foreheads pressing together as he fixes to fill her up for the first time in what feels like eternity.

The monster’s voice is as dominant and thick as she likes it. “Eyes up here. Want to see you come undone while I fuck you.”

The way he spreads Y/N open makes her choke out a scream like nothing else she’s ever heard. Harry simply clamps one of his palms over her mouth, continuing to ram into her at a harsh stride, gasping against her ear with every thrust as she rakes her nails across his back. “Gotta keep that pretty mouth quiet. Thin walls.”

The human feels like her heart is going to break through her ribs and what she doesn’t know is that with every passing beat, Harry feels it tenfold. And it’s driving him fucking insane— she drives him fucking insane. Especially when she looks at him with that glossy, begging gaze, biting into the mound of his hand as he slams his hips inside her so hard, the glasses in her cupboard shake. “Like it when I give it to you rough? Yeah, I thought so. Just like that? Harder? Say please…Christ, you’re a fucking angel.”

Y/N is dirty. So fucking filthy, and Harry loves every second of it. Loves that anything he throws out, she returns with as much enthusiasm, if not more. Loves that she can take his cock as hard as he’s willing to give it, which says a lot, considering his stamina and strength usually surpasses most humans. He’d met very few mortals who can match his sexual prowess and she happens to be one of them. She not only takes it, but pleads for more. She doesn’t just seek her own pleasure, but insists on delivering his own. And though they’re polars opposites at their core— she’s timid, physically standard, and boringly normal, whereas he’s confident, attractive, and unusually superior in every sense of the phrase— they fit together better than he’d ever care to admit. They’re perfectly compatible, down to their personalities and their intimate needs.

As Harry stands there— fingertips leaving welts across her waist as he grunts brokenly against her throat, stretching her out like she was meant to take him this deep, her moans sounding like classical melodies to his ears— he thinks that maybe...maybe he’ll keep her around. A friends with benefits situation would be the most ideal. And to quote his own clever motto from before, it would be mutualism at its finest.

The alliance would be nothing emotional; simply for the sake of providing each other with requited relief, as well as providing Harry with a convenient feeding arrangement. Neither of them would have to submit themselves to going to those terrible clubs, they both already know what the other enjoys, and the banter they share is pretty fulfilling. Plus, her blood is one of the sweetest he’s ever had. Whatever magic lies in her veins tides over his cravings in a fashion he’s never quite experienced. They both get what they want and don’t have to deal with the disasters of real commitment; neither are in a place in their lives where they can shoulder such a big responsibility. Harry is emotionally unavailable, as he has been for the past two centuries and as he intends to be for the next dozen. Y/N has just started anew in a place where she has so little to give and so much to lose, dating is the last thing on her mind. A casual no-strings-attached arrangement would be a perfect gift, bow and all.

And with the way they make each other cum multiple times that night— once on the counter, and twice on that trusty old couch— there’s not a single doubt in Harry’s mind that this is most definitely mutualism at its peak.

///

During the span of the next few weeks, Harry learns a lot about Y/N. It’s surprising how informational someone’s sex habits can be.

The second week after they had met— and the first since their second very heated, very satisfying encounter— she shoots him a text on Wednesday, of all days.

Harry isn’t doing anything particularly interesting when he receives her message. He had gone to see Mitch play at the bar that had recently booked him as a semi-permanent gig, sitting in the booth furthest in the back from all of the ruckus, fingers tapping along the waxed table to his best friend’s skilled jazzy guitar chords. Mitch always teases Harry about how he doesn’t have a job, which the vampire always waves off. Working for money is stupid and unnecessary; any materialistic wants and needs that plague him, he can get with the help of compulsion. Therefore, what’s the use in condemning himself the horrors of customer service or a constricting office cubicle?

His best friend is halfway through his set when Harry’s device vibrates against the sticky surface before him, tittering fingers coming to an abrupt stop. He flips over his iPhone, eyes flickering over the screen, a coy grin spreading its way across his blushed lips. Y/N’s contact beams up at him in return. He’d set her profile as just her name alongside three disco ball emojis, for the sake of their little inside joke.

I’m getting off work a bit earlier than I thought today and was wondering if you wanted to help me with my ceiling fan.

Harry bites into his bottom lip to muffle a chuckle, shaking his head lightly as he stares down at the comical request.

That’s odd. Last time I was there, you didn’t HAVE a ceiling fan.

Y/N sits on her lunch break in the backroom of the cafe where she’s employed, a veggie wrap halfway suspended towards her mouth when Harry’s text bloops in, pointing out her embarrassing mistake. She blinks at his correction blankly, eyes closing in faint humiliation as her true intentions are now painfully clear.

After a second of recollection, she types back some damage control, though it hardly has an impact. Harry’s already chortling to himself just thinking about how contorted her face must look at the moment.

I’m aware, thank you. I meant I wanted help picking one out. I’ve got a few tabs saved as potentials.

He decides to be a little shit about this whole thing, continuing to mock her.

You could just send me the links right now and I can tell you which one I like. You know that, right?

Y/N knows that. She also knows, by the tone and texture of his response, he’d only mentioned that alternative to be annoying. He knows she’s not talking about ceiling fans, and he just wants her to chase after him. Unfortunately enough for Y/N’s pride, she’s more than willing to.

I just think your opinion would be much more valuable and effective in person, since you’d be able to help me search for other ones at the same time. We’d cover more ground. Two heads are better than one!

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

I personally think so. A dynamic duo for the books, honestly.

A soft round of applause cuts through the air around the vampire, signaling the end of Mitch’s performance. Harry glances up to see his best friend mounting his guitar back into its case, smiling bashfully at the crowd and nodding his head in thanks to all their praise. Harry coins his luck; things couldn’t have wrapped up at a better time.

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

Y/N stops mid-chew through a bite of her meal, cheeks puffed as the corners of her mouth twitch at his nerdy reference.

I’m off at 6:45. Should be home by 7.

I’ll see you there, then.

See you there. Also, why do YOU get to be Sherlock? Seems a bit sexist.

Harry rolls his eyes at her quip, smirking to himself as he types out his final response.

Well, first and foremost, I’m literally English. Secondly, last time I checked, I’m always the one in control. And frankly, you seem to like it that way. See you at seven, darling.

And at seven on the dot, Harry’s outside her apartment. His friends would be amazed at his punctuality. He only shows it when it’s worth the trouble.

The creature walks up the steps to the mortal’s complex with his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, keychain tucked into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, and his tan Chelsea boots clicking against the cement ground. A light wind whips his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt against the broad muscles of his back, drawing a soothed sigh from his lungs. He loves the California weather.

He gives her door three swift knocks with his ring-clad knuckles, stepping back from the entrance and clasping his large hands behind his back as he waits.

When Y/N answers, Harry tilts his chin down a smidge, looking at her over the brim of his chic black glasses with his signature dazzling smile dimpling his cheeks. He lists his head slightly in a formal greeting. “Detective.”

The girl’s irises flit up to the ceiling as amusement twitches her lips. She plays along. “Nice to see you again. Detective.”

She moves off to the side, beckoning him to come in and he gladly takes the offer, striding into the flat and down the narrow corridor he’s grown quite familiar with. Y/N follows him back into her living room, gaze quickly drinking up his appearance. He’s casual today— less jewelry, more comfortable clothes— and he works the normal fit as effortlessly as he works his fancy brands. Especially with those tight dark jeans. They hug his thighs in a fashion that should be illegal.

Harry twists around on his heel to face her, reaching up to remove his sunglasses and tucking them along the collar of his tee. A handful of curls fall across his forehead, framing his face and sculpting his jaw, as usual. A sweep across Y/N’s physique tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s still in her work clothes, clad in a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark skinnies similar to his. Her hair is down, though the strands have a dent that suggests she’d been wearing a ponytail. Her mascara is smudged a tad under her seemingly tired eyes, but her attitude is as bright and lively as always. She appears messy, but he likes it. It’s a type of unconventional beauty that’s natural and genuine, which he can appreciate.

He contemplates her with a certain slyness that makes her shift in her socked feet.

“I got a message earlier. Sounded kinda frantic.” He drifts closer to the human, a sultry tension growing taut between them. He glances upward for an instant, as if recalling a thought. “Something about ceiling fans…?”

Y/N chews into her cheek to keep from giggling, allowing him to press his chest to hers. He slowly begins to back her up towards the shabby couch, which has seen this interaction happen one too many times. “Yeah, I’m thinking of getting one. Figured it’d help. It just gets really hot in here sometimes, y’know?”

“Mmm…” Harry thrums in agreement, deep in the back of his throat. His hands crawl onto her hips and grasps them somewhat roughly, index fingers hooking into the belt loops of her jeans as he leans down to brush his soft lips over her own. She’ll never grow tired of the electricity that passes through them every time their mouths touch. It kindles her needs unlike anything else. “It does get pretty hot in here sometimes. Especially if you’re working up a sweat.”

He pushes her further towards the sofa, movements gradual as she drifts backwards, careful not to trip her. She glimpses down at where their lips are flirting, breath hiccuping when he licks his lightly in anticipation, his tongue just barely grazing her Cupid’s bow. “Absolutely. A fan would definitely help relieve some of that stress.”

“Yeah.” Harry nudges the tip of her nose with his own, feeling her grab at his biceps for security as he continues inching her backwards blindly. “It can work wonders for when you’re all pent up, too. Especially when you’re really tight, which I know for a fact you are.”

The backs of the girl’s knees hit the edge of the couch and she topples into its cushions. She sits up onto her elbows, sheer need inking into her irises as he patiently begins to undo his belt. His long, nimble fingers work with ease and he seems to be in no particular rush, which pricks at her nerves because she feels completely the opposite. She’d been thinking about him since Friday night— or rather, Saturday morning, when he had actually stayed for breakfast that time around.

Y/N had sat on top of her small dining table while he took the seat before her shirtless, leaning forward with his arms crossed nonchalantly over her lap as she fed him bites of lemon blueberry pancakes. The pads of his calloused fingers had drawn random shapes across the warm skin of her thighs, attempting to cheekily slip beneath her pajamas shorts and he’d giggle boyishly around mouthfuls of food every time she would swat his hand away. He looked so fucking pretty that morning, with his curls tangled in tuffs and the vague imprint of her teeth scattered across his grinning mouth, angry red scratches decorating his bare shoulders. That wholesome yet dirty image had left her head spinning for days.

The sound of Harry’s zipper ripping open blinks Y/N back into the present and she nearly gawks as he grabs onto the hem of his graphic t-shirt and yanks it over his head, arms crossing as he does so. He tosses it onto her playfully, laughing as she smacks it away from her face and gives him a deadpan look. Harry leans forward, propping his palms on either sides of her head and bracketing her in, the unmissable scent of his delicious cologne invading her senses as his dark tattoos ripple over the lean tendons of his stomach and arms. His strangely cold forehead flushes against hers and he nips at her top lip, tugging it between his teeth and releasing. His voice comes out as deep and hypnotizing as ever.

“Get undressed for me. Want your thighs wrapped around my head.”

Harry comes to find that for such a reserved girl, Y/N has a pretty intriguing sexual mindset. She’s open to a lot of stuff he’d never expect from a rural-town escapee. Her kinks surprise him, but pleasantly so, considering they cross over with a lot of his own. She’s into choking, which he adores. There’s nothing hotter than feeling her pulse slam against the palm of his hand as his array of rings mark into the delicate skin of her throat. She likes being restrained, which translates into Harry pinning her wrists above her head while he slams between her drenched thighs. It’s difficult to achieve that on the sofa, so they end up rolling across the rug on the floor, her legs tangled around his hips like a vine as he pants into her mouth, damp hair flopping over his forehead and tickling her eyelashes. Ideally, he would have used his belt to tie her hands to a headboard. If they were at his place, he would’ve just reached for the metal cuffs he has hanging casually off the railing of his bed, which he keeps there for easy access. But they’re in her living room, so he makes do with what he can.

The vampire doesn’t stay over that night, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he promised Niall he’d help him out with a car issue. Apparently the motor is making a weird noise and Harry isn’t shocked one bit. Niall barely has the brain cells to be alive, much less to handle the upkeep that comes with owning a vintage vehicle. He thanks Y/N for a good time as he slips into his tight jeans and recovers his sunglasses from the floor, pulling his tee over the already fading hickies littering his collarbones, fitting his accessory into his sweaty curls.

Harry leans down to where she lays limply, splayed over the couch where he had placed her after picking her up off the ground (only after he’d made her cum twice). He plants a nonchalant farewell kiss to her parted lips, thumbing over her bruised nipples jestingly and grinning into her mouth when she whimpers. “I’ll see you later, Watson. Let me know which fan you decide to buy.”

Two days later, Harry’s phone chimes again, this time with the unique ringtone he’d assigned just for her.

He’s relaxing in his bathtub, submerged up to his chest in hot water mixed with Epsom salts and jasmine bubble bath, his locks sudsy with shampoo. He’s in the middle of shaving his face, dragging the straight razor (his time in the nineteen thirties made him picky towards any other tool, especially those simpleton plastic ones) down his jaw carefully, making sure not to nick the little moles under the corner of his mouth. When his device goes off, he halts all his motions, glancing over from the hand mirror he’s holding before his face. He’d changed her contact name to Watson as homage to their funny little dynamic, but he’d kept the disco balls in their place. He respects the roots of their acquaintanceship.

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

He had a nagging suspicion he’d hear from her today. It’s another Friday night, after all. He’s just happy she’d texted earlier than last time so he can flake on his friends without forcing them to wait for an hour.

Wow, you chose two day shipping? You must be itching to see me.

Don’t let it go to your head. The only thing I’m itching for is your professional opinion.

Right. Well, me and my professional opinion are washing up at the moment so give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there, yeah?

Sounds good to me, Sherlock.

Harry decides on an outfit that falls at the center of his dressing spectrum— something comfortable but not lazy. Something semi-formal. He doesn’t really have to impress her anymore (not that he had to try that hard in the first place) but he wants to look good, either way. There’s nothing wrong with showing off what he has, both physically and wardrobe-wise. He chooses a horizontal-striped fitted tee made of thick cotton, the lines alternating between brown, beige, and a light caramel. He tucks the shirt into a pair of mid-rise corduroy flared pants that are a dark mustard shade, shrugging on an olive green jacket with red and white stitch detailing along the edges, large images of cacti embroidered along its expanse. His pearls, cross necklace, and he opts out of his earring this time. Rings, vanilla chapstick, mint gum. Keys, wallet, starch white Vans.

Before he knows it, he’s being roughly pulled into her home from his spot just outside her threshold, his cherry-lacquer nails carding into the silky hair along the nape of Y/N’s neck as his teeth skim over the hollow of her throat. The human grapples to push his coat off his wide shoulders, backing further down the small hallway of her flat and kicking the door shut. She holds his head firmly to the sensitive spot in her neck that he’d toyed with a week prior, and he can’t resist the way his eyes blink crimson— a hunting impulse, stemming from the sound of her blood rushing through her carotid artery. He hadn’t fed last time— vampires only need to feed once a week to avoid desiccation— so he surely intends to tonight.

Harry’s hands fit perfectly around the dip of her spine, pulling her body tight to his as he paints sloppy kisses over her jugular. He gets his teasing words out in between desperate gasps and breathy chuckles. “And here I thought this was genuinely going to be about the fan.”

“Shut up.”

Y/N makes a sharp turn, tugging him into her room instead of the living room and it dawns on him that this is the first time they’re going to fuck in her actual bed. All those instances of sleeping together and not once had they done anything on the piece of furniture that was intended for that sole purpose. It’s ironically hilarious and he voices that opinion as they stumble onto her mattress.

“You know,” Harry murmurs into her mouth as she shoves him flat onto the rumpled sheets (she hadn’t made her bed this morning and that’s endearing, for some reason), straddling his lap as she hurriedly pulls his t-shirt out from along the waistband of his trousers. “Out of all the times we’ve done this— which is quite a few— we’ve never done anything on your bed other than sleep.”

That’s a lie. He’s never actually slept in her bed. After staring at the ceiling blankly two weeks ago for about eight hours, he had been smart enough to grab his phone from his pants the second time around. He spent that stretch of time playing Mario Kart and watching Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix with the volume down just out of human earshot, so as to not disturb her slumber.

Y/N ducks in order to drag her wet, pillowy lips down the butterfly inking on his tummy and over the spines of the two ferns on his pelvis, licking across his happy trail. He jerks in response, a soft grunt gurgling in his lungs as she uses her index finger to trace the outline of his hardening cock through the velvet fabric of his slacks. Her voice is distant, giggle breathless. “Yeah, you’re right. How counterintuitive.”

Harry swiftly pops the button of his trousers, helping her coax them down his legs, releasing a stuttery moan when she immediately bends down and mouths at his prick over his briefs. The soiled stain forming around the tip of his cock would be embarrassing if he didn’t know she found it hot.

His tone is tight but humorous as she continues licking at him eagerly through his underwear, nails digging into his inner thighs. “Am I your first?”

Confusion flickers in her eyes for a moment before she realizes the joke. He’s referring to if he’s the first person she’s slept with on her new bed in her new home. “Yes, you are, actually.”

Harry’s juts his bottom lip out into an overly-sweet exaggerated pout, talking in a honeyed drawl. “Aw, I get to christen your bed with you? We’re practically married now. When’s the baby due?”

“God, you’re a moron.” Y/N bursts into a fit of laughter as she mounts back onto his lap, pinching at his torso in fake spite and feeling her insides flutter at the airy giggles that escape him. She gnaws on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, watching with hunger as he finishes removing his shirt and momentarily sits up to chuck it onto the ground over her shoulder.

Harry falls back onto the mattress, folding his taut arms behind his neck, biceps flexing with the movements as his strong chest and toned stomach look as appealing as ever. She runs her palms over his tanned skin, feeling the sturdy muscle shift beneath her touch. Shit.

The immortal slinks his head to the side, eyes going half-lidded in suggestive mischief as he sees the way she’s objectifying him. He doesn’t mind; he actually lives for it. “Are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna fuck me?”

His lewd comment washes warmth across Y/N’s ears and spurs her into action. In less than a minute, she’s fully unclothed, bouncing on his cock with a type of need that boils the pit of Harry’s belly. His fingers are digging bruises into her waist, slamming her down onto his prick with enough force to make the old bed creak wildly. She may be on top, but he’s still the one pulling the strings.

Y/N collapses forward, anchoring herself onto her forearms on either sides of his head, burying her face in his auburn ringlets. She bites onto her tongue, trying to keep a tab on the atrociously loud sounds threatening to spill from her mouth. They come out as broken whines instead, which Harry drinks up like a glass of aged bourbon. She fists at his roots, jolting with every thrust he gives upwards, her knees digging into his love handles to keep balanced. At this point, she’s barely riding him at all. He’s just ramming himself into her from below as he guides her hips and she doesn’t have an issue with that at all. She likes when he leads.

His growl comes out low and raspy, riding on a moan, his warm, choppy exhales pebbling her bare nipples. “How’s that, darling? How’s that cock feel?”

Y/N nods her head frantically, not trusting her tongue to form an appropriate response.

“Tell me.” He grits out through bared teeth, back arching a bit as he feels the knot of white hot pleasure in his stomach twist and turn.

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

One of Harry’s hands coasts down the small of her back and onto her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. She yelps at the new sensation, pain and bliss intermingling. “Yeah, you fucking can. You will. Use your words. Tell me how much you like it.”

A violent shutter runs through Y/N’s limbs and she instinctively pushes back against his palm. Harry’s eyebrows kink in question as he feels her draw her face back from his hair. One look at her eyes tells the entire narrative: She wants him to spank her.

Harry slowly lifts his hand from her skin, brows raising a bit higher for confirmation. Y/N smears his lips against his forehead and left cheekbone, bobbing her head desperately, whispering a tiny, “Yes, please.” that sends smoky tendrils of hot air cascading down his straining neck.

When the vampire’s hand comes down, it’s fast and hard, his cold rings biting into her flesh and leaving welts, the sound echoing off the glossy walls and tall bookshelf in her room. The cry that betrays her could probably be heard down on the main floor of her complex.

The shattered noise makes Harry sanity slip and he’s lucky she’s too lost in her own bliss to see the way his eyes glow dangerously red. “Fuck, you’re such a slut for it.”

Harry suddenly boosts himself forward, toppling Y/N backwards until she’s the one wedged against the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, nestling her face into the crook of his sweaty collarbones, cracked cries pooling into the junction of his clavicle as he hikes her roughly up his thighs. He sinks further between her legs until he bottoms out with a loud garbled groan, pushing so deep she can feel him in the trench of her belly.

“Oh my God, Harry— I— fuck, just—just— oh!”

His pace rises in intensity, strokes messy and unforgivable as he fucks her into the bed, the cracking of the frame warning him that it might give away. “Oh, so you liked that, did you? Like it when I call you a slut and stretch you out like one?”

Harry feels Y/N’s teeth rip into his shoulder in order to evade a scream; a strong shiver pin-balls down his spine as a result. Her voice is absolutely wrecked as she talks over her muffled mouth. “Loved it. Loved it so much. Want—Want more. Please, please, please.”

Harry holds her down firmly to the sheets, pounding into her with a form of unrestrained force he’s never exhibited. She just drives him to the brink like no one else has in nearly twenty decades. “Can you feel me in your tummy, pet? Can you feel how I fill you up?”

“Yes, yes— it’s so good, Harry. You’re incredible.”

“Such a proper little whore.” He has to actively hold back from digging into her throat with his fangs, his eyes screwing shut in concentration as his orgasm begins to burn through his veins. “Begging me to fuck you like one, over and over. You’ve never had it this good, have you?”

“N-No. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.”

“Hands off.”

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

Y/N obeys, throwing her arms above her head and letting them hang off the edge of the bed as he’d instructed. It’s not like he wants her to stop scratching down his back, but he knows that if she continues, he’s going to black out. He’s already teetering, obvious in the black webs he can feel materializing over the whites of his eyes.

“Ask for permission.”

The mortal unclamps her teeth from his bruised shoulder and swallows heavily, her words sputtering out from how hard she’s jerking against the bed. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

“‘May I cum.’” The boy corrects, half because he wants to be a cocky ass, and half because it’s automatic. He was raised during an era where intellectual accuracy was of utmost value in society. It’s hard to leave those lessons behind.

Y/N hiccups another mewl, hands curling into loose fists above her head as he continues to fuck her deliberately into the duvet. She repeats his phrase shakily. “May I cum? Please?”

Harry’s lashes flutter open and as soon as he sees her, all doe-eyed, covered in his love marks, with her bottom lip trembling...It’s like a switch flips. When he speaks, it’s soft and encouraging; a drastic contrast from his mood a few seconds ago. “Yeah...Yeah, baby, go ahead. Cum for me.”

That night, as Harry lays there awake staring at that awful popcorn roof with the taste of her blood fresh on his tongue and her steady heartbeat throbbing in his heightened ears, he catches himself smiling in the dark. It doesn't have to do with emotions or feelings or any of that complicated bullshit. It just has to do with the fact that he found some consistency in his life, as unattached and materialistic as it may be. They don’t have a complex bond or a deeper meaning. They simply just coexist. They provide some common stability to each others’ lives and it helps keep an important balance. Stability is so rare to find, especially for an immortal who is condemned to witness the world constantly evolve around them while they remain frozen in time. Society will change, people change, appearances change, alliances change, and though it can be exhilarating, at times, Harry never truly has a say in it. He’s always just strung along for the ride.

This is different. It’s static, and that’s all he really needs it to be. Sex can be so emotionally messy if lines aren’t drawn and boundaries aren’t set. But with Y/N, it’s like they have a silent understanding— an unspoken agreement signed by both parties. It’s a notion that could have spared Harry his life in the past, and it’s an ideal that— even in death— took him centuries to learn:

Some people are meant to be loved, while others are just meant to be naked.

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better.

Specifically, Tuesday night. That’s when the sexting starts.

It’s a pretty calm evening and Harry finds himself with nothing to do. Mitch is out with Sarah, who had come into town two days ago due to the band she’s touring with being on a three week break. She’d said she wasn’t staying for long— maybe a week, because she has plans to visit some other bloodsucker friends in Canada. Even though Mitch tries to hide it, Harry can tell he’s bummed about Sarah’s short visit. The older vampire is good at hiding his emotions, but Harry’s known him for so long that he could read Mitch’s mood even if he was blindfolded and gagged.

The jade-eyed boy had been honest with his best friend, asking him what the point was in continuing to see someone whose depth of interest in the relationship wasn’t as developed as his own. Mitch had simply shrugged one shoulder and told Harry that he wouldn’t understand. He mentioned something about how eventually, the freshblood high would wear off and Sarah would find herself wanting to settle down somewhere with someone she could trust for the rest of eternity. Mitch explained that he cared for her enough to wait until then.

His best mate had been wrong. Harry does understand. He understands the concept of chasing after someone who, in the end, didn’t want anything to do with him. He understands it a little too well, sadly. He figures that’s the same fate Mitch is bound to suffer, just on a less extreme level.

But then again, Harry’s perception of love is majorly skewed, so who is he to judge?

With Mitch tied up with Sarah (probably literally, though Harry doesn’t dwell on that; it’s none of his business), his options dwindle to the rest of the crew. Niall and Xander had invited him to a concert they were attending, but Harry politely declined the offer. The musicians were some wannabe indie band and Harry would rather swallow a nicotine addict’s blood than listen to a couple of morons sing in cursive. Adam had suggested he tag along with him, Ny-Oh, and Charlotte to a new art exhibit that had opened up in the next town over. It was a thirty minute drive, so it wasn’t that bad, but Harry declined that invitation, as well. He loves art, if the giant collection on his wall has anything to say about it, but he doesn’t get on well with Ny or Charlotte. They say he’s “too much of an arrogant dickhead” to be around for an extended period of time. They’re right, of course, but it still hurts. Plus, Ny has a mullet and Harry knows he wouldn’t be able to withhold from making a Billy Ray joke. It’s best he stay away, lest she end up with an achy-breaky heart.

So that leaves him here, all alone at eight P.M. on a Tuesday, plopped on his couch in nothing but a pair of maroon plaid boxers as Hamilton plays on the ninety inch flatscreen mounted on his glass wall. He had left the curtains open, not really caring that he’s practically naked. The sun’s already set and it’s almost pitch black outside; plus, he lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the condominium complex. The only living being risking an eyeful is a peepy pigeon. Even then, Harry’s more than happy to put on a show. He’s confident enough in himself that nudity is practically second nature. His friends can attest to that.

Harry lays across his leather sofa with a large checkered throw cushion snuggled into his side, one of his hands slung across the backrest of the couch as the other remains submerged wrist-deep in a bag of Veggie Straws. His socked feet are propped up on his round marble coffee table, ankles crossed and posture anything but eloquent. The apartment is silent, except for the musical streaming through the speakers of his television set and the gentle pattering of rain just outside his glorified window pane, accompanied by the faint flickering of the city lights below. The atmosphere of the room is relaxed and cozy and it lulls his soul in a manner he can’t put into words.

Harry has always liked the rain. Ever since he was a child, he would sit by the small round window of the attic room he shared with his older sister, watching it fall from the sky in sheets of glittering sapphires, soaking into the dry ground and turning it into a slush of dirt he would later sneak out to play in. When he got older, he would prop his shoulder against the doorframe at the back of his father’s blacksmith shop and gaze at it, mesmerized by how it would trickle down the streets of the public market, washing away all the grime that came with a bustling city’s reputation. Sometimes he would stand in it, feeling its cool touch run down his arms and soak into the back of his sot-covered work shirt. He enjoyed how it would cleanse the sticky sweat from his face and neck, its gentle nature leaving him feeling like he could float through air. Then his father would call him back into the store and playfully scold him for allowing himself to get drenched, warning that his mother would kill him if he caught a cold.

Harry’s changed a lot since then, he knows that, but it comforts him that his love for rain is the one aspect of his personality that two hundred years of Hell had failed to take from him.

The melodies swimming out of his TV reign him back in from memory lane.

Harry’s not really one to enjoy musicals, but back when Hamilton had first hit Broadway, he’d used his persuasive supernatural abilities to sneak into one of the first showings. He’d been curious as to what all the hype was about, and the play did not disappoint. The songs were catchy, the acting was good, and the characters were brought to life through raw emotion and comedy. He respected that. And the plot of the story itself resonated with him deeply, as well. A protagonist that rose from nothing, fell in love with the wrong woman, and made terrible life choices that seemed correct at the time, which would all eventually lead to his death. It hit a bit too close to home.

If he had a dollar for every time he’s seen it since it had come out on Disney+, he could probably pay rent himself instead of compelling others to do it for him.

The play is halfway through one of its most famous ballads when the monster’s phone dings with a familiar tune. A smirk is already etching itself across his face before he even unlocks his device.

I need interior design advice.

I’m still a little sore from our last help session. How’d you bounce back so quick?

Funny, but I need ACTUAL interior design advice this time.

Harry’s brows furrow in mild confusion and slight disappointment. He draws his hand from the junk food container, dusting off the crumbs. Oh.

Genuinely?

Yup!

He guesses he’ll give it a go. He does have pretty exquisite taste; the modern gothic aesthetic of his condo proves that. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

Alright, shoot.

Y/N releases the breath she’d been holding in. Thank God he’s agreed to help. As much as she’s ashamed to admit it, Harry’s really the only person in LA that she deems relatively close to a friend. She hasn’t managed to mesh well with her coworkers much, despite the fact that she’s been trying extremely hard. She just doesn’t wanna force herself into unfulfilling fake friendships for the sake of having people to flaunt. It’s not right and she knows she’d grow to resent it.

So instead, she’d reached out to the one California resident who doesn’t make her skin crawl.

Whew, okay, thanks in advance! So I went out yesterday and got a new bedspread and I wanted some help choosing a new accessory to go with it, which is going on my wall.

Harry’s ears perk up and his back straightens at her statement. Could she finally, by the grace of fucking God, be getting rid of that shitty tapestry?

Well, let me see it, then. Don’t keep a man waiting, I’m dying to play Property Brothers over here.

A picture comes through of the two new accessories Y/N is referring to and the way Harry’s face drops instantly is almost comical.

Which tapestry fits better? I’m thinking the Van Gogh style painting of a lighthouse. The blue goes well with the dark turquoise of the comforter. But then again, the forest canopy has those pretty exotic flowers that compliment the coral stitching. I can’t decide.

The vampire’s face pinches in disgusted horror as he blinks down numbly at the image on his screen. He’s going to be sick. Those Veggie Straws are about to make a hideous comeback.

…two new tapestries? Did the other one rip or…?

What? No!! I just saw these down at the thrift store and thought they were cute. Why? Are they really that bad??

They’re not just bad, they’re worse. He’s going to ask her to blindfold him next time he visits.

They’re…kinda immature, dove. I just thought you’d go for something cooler this time, like a vintage painting or a couple vinyls to mount on the wall.

Immature?

Oops. He should have picked his words more carefully. Now he’s gone and offended her and she’ll probably bite down the next time he puts his—

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

I know you didn’t just call ME immature when you compared me to a cream-filled donut, Harry.

The playful tone in the text delivers a wave of relief that is almost as pleasurable as what lies between Y/N’s legs.

Can I speak freely for a second? Full disclosure, no consequences?

That preface makes me think you’re about to chew me out.

I’ll be gentle, I promise. I know it’s not our usual dynamic, but I’ll give it a go.

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks.

Alright, go head.

I just think tapestries are kinda stupid. They scream “confused teenager trying to find myself.” But that’s just my opinion. I’m only telling you so you know that I’m probably not the best bloke to go to with tapestry inquiries.

Harry watches as a read receipt stares up at him for a few seconds. Just when he thinks he might have truly upset her this time, her message bubble pops up.

So...the one I’ve had hanging in my room the last three times you’ve been over…

I had to actively restrain the urge to strangle myself with it.

Y/N breaks out into laughter. The image of waking up to Harry laying facedown on her bedroom floor, balls naked and mummified within a sunrise tapestry...It’s sending her.

Well, you know what? That’s not fair! You can’t judge my house when I haven’t even had the chance to judge yours.

Harry nods once to himself in surrender, reaching up to finger-comb a few rebellious curls out of his eyes. She makes a valid play.

Fair enough. You’ll have to come over and give me your opinion sometime.

I’d be honored to. Now, would you be so kind as to put your own personal bias aside this once and help me choose which one to put up. I promise I’ll spare you any more tapestry-related problems in the future. I’ll remove it from my customer contract.

Harry sighs defeatedly. He can’t believe he’s giving up his integrity for sex.

Fine. Send me a picture of both of them up on the wall. It’ll give some perspective.

Y/N giddily obliges, deciding to send a video instead. That way, she can get all of the angles in one go rather than having to send multiple pictures.

Harry waits patiently, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth as he taps his foot against the coffee table to the tune of Wait for It, which is playing in the film that has now become the backdrop of his night. When Y/N’s next message comes through, he’s mildly surprised to find it’s a video. He clicks play, watching intently as she circles the two pinned tapestries slowly, making sure to get a proper view from all sides. By the time the thirty second clip is coming to an end, Harry’s leaning more towards the tropical canopy painting. It’s not as loud and she was right about the flowers matching the stitching on the duvet.

He’s about to tap back “the forest one” when something flashes across the screen that makes him choke on his snack, launching him into a coughing fit.

It’s within the last three seconds of the video and if he had cut it off in order to text back, he would have missed it. But he hadn’t, and now it’s burned into the back of his eyelids, causing a buzzing sensation to string right to the area between his thighs.

The last few frames of the video, Y/N had lowered her phone from the position she’d been suspending it, probably thinking she had already stopped filming. She hadn’t. And because of that, Harry gets a full frontal view of her body, covered in nothing except a pair of lace panties and a mid-thigh oversized Avengers t-shirt. The entire screen fills with bare, silky skin and raunchy lace and he can feel his fangs poke into his tongue.

Harry’s not a pre-teen; he’s not going to drool over seeing a pair of legs. What really gets to him is the fact that it appears Y/N still has a few hickies across the inner area of her thighs, which have failed to fade as quickly as the others. They should be gone, given that anytime Harry feeds (like he had the last time they’d slept together), he always gives her a bit of his blood to heal. Meaning, normal bruises like that should be gone. Maybe he just hadn’t given her a high enough dosage, or maybe he’d marked her more than he remembers, but either way, the stains are there.

The vampire ogles at the paused image with a dry throat and wide eyes. Just seeing her like that, dressed in comfy yet effortlessly sensual attire with no bottoms on whatsoever, freely flaunting his love bites around her apartment, probably looking at them in her mirror, thinking about how his teeth had felt grazing her skin…

It’s enough to pop a stiffy into his briefs.

Harry glimpses over the top of his phone, swallowing thickly at the large bulge beginning to tent his boxers. His socked toes curl as he feels a longing throb begin to swell at the pit of his clenching stomach. Great. This is just fucking perfect.

He attempts to tap back a reply, but his hands have started quivering slightly, clumsy thumbs ruining his message to the point where he has to retype it three times.

The forest one. I agree with what you said about the stitching.

Okay, thank you so much! Your input is highly appreciated, as always.

The immortal finds himself gnawing at the inside of his cheek, weighing on whether he should mention the little softcore porn moment she’d unknowingly shot, or if he should just let it slide and go take care of the issue that is literally weighing on him— he can feel it getting heavy against his thigh.

His fingers seem to take on a mind of their own, printing out a quick sentence and hitting the send button before he can rethink his motives.

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

Uh no...It looked pretty okay to me while I took it. Why, do you need a different one? Was the lighting too dark?

The fact that she sent it by accident only adds to the appeal. She’s such a good girl. So fucking innocent and sweet, she could practically give him a toothache.

Do me a quick favor and rewatch it all the way to the end. I think you’ll be surprised with what you find.

Y/N leans back against her bookshelf wall, chewing on her bottom lip as a sly grin ticks the corners. She doesn’t have to rewatch the video. She’s fully aware of what she had done, which had been completely on purpose. She’s only playing dumb to see his reaction, getting off on how flustered he seems to have become. Yes, her intentions for contacting him had originally been purely for his opinion on decor. But when she saw the chance, she decided to jump headfirst and take it. What are friends with benefits for if not for times like these, when you’re too lazy to come over but need a bit of relief?

The human allows a full thirty seconds to pass, simulating that she’s watching the video, and then thoughtfully taps out her response.

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

Harry shifts in exasperation against his sofa, the radiating in his abdomen crawling up to his chest and down to his knees. He needs to take care of himself now.

It’s fine, babe. You just might wanna be more careful, cause this time around you got lucky that it was me and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Could go south if it were someone else.

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly at his scolding, but continues to play the clueless act, curious to see where it’ll take her.

You’re absolutely right, I’m so sorry.

Harry clears his throat, flinching as he feels a soft twitch run up the length of his cock. He exhales tightly, trying to steer the conversation into a lighter mood. He doesn’t want her to feel bad; it’s not like he’s angry about this. He’s hot and bothered and needy, but not mad.

I just think it’s funny you exposed the fact that you go around your house without pants.

Oh, fuck off! No one ever wears pants around their own house, especially if they’re alone. It’s one of the laws of physics. No human resistance, no pants.

Harry glances down at his body symbolically, where he’s clad in only his underwear, as well.

Touché.

Exactly.

A pause befalls the conversation as both parties fish for something new to say. The situation’s become less lively and more intense now and neither are sure how to navigate without crossing a line. In a surge of courage, Y/N decides to just directly communicate her intentions, praying that he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

I have an idea, just hear me out. For the sake of evening the playing field, I think that since you saw me pantsless, it’s only fair that I see you the same way. It balances out, right?

Harry’s jaw drops in an open-mouthed simper, impressed by her blatant suggestion, but also by how smoothly she had delivered it. He mumbles his next words to himself, voice amused and somewhat awed at how she had managed to spin this to her benefit. “You clever little minx. Bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

Y/N purses her lips, shrugging her brows cheekily.

Maybe.

The vampire scoffs, taken aback not only at the ploy she’d pulled off, but at how unapologetic she is about the whole thing. It’s hot.

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack.

The photo that comes through makes Y/N choke on her spit. It’s not anything too revealing, but it packs a lot. Literally.

It’s a pretty casual picture, and she gets the feeling he took it as so just to be a tease. In the frame, all she sees is a snapshot of Harry’s lap, thighs straining against the flimsy material of a pair of crimson tartan boxers, the large tigerhead tattoo he totes somehow prominent in the low lightning. Of course it stands out, though. That’s to be expected; his thighs are thick in the most satisfying fashion and they’re one of his most defining features. She can also see the bottom half of his lean tummy, the cutoff being the crest of his belly button. His fern inkings are peeking out of from below the waistband of the Calvin Kleins, dark and matte on his lightly bronzed skin, and she spots the nonchalant position of his crossed ankles in the background.

As appetizing as every little detail is, the centerpiece of the portrait is the obvious bulge pressing into the fabric of his briefs. The outline is so prominent, the picture borderlines on graphic. His cock looks pretty as ever, even when it’s covered; the thin underwear leaves very little to the imagination.

Y/N has to bite down on her tongue to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Wow, okay, well...Your picture was much more explicit than my video. That’s not fair at all. Throws off the equilibrium we were trying to establish.

Harry chuckles aloud, shaking his head in amazement at how well she can bend the game to her will. Three weeks ago, when he’d first laid eyes on that shy girl at the club, he would have never expected her to be so bold. Now, she has him wrapped around her pinky like a string.

You’re absolutely right. My apologies. Maybe you should send one similar so we can even out the stakes.

You read my mind.

Y/N’s next picture causes a hiss to stream through the cracks of Harry’s teeth, eyes glinting red.

It’s a picture taken on top of her bed, the angle set from above. She’s laying on her side, her torso twisted so that her backside is in the shot, her huge tee pulled tight against her waist so it creates an enticing cinching effect. Her thighs are clasped together, the collar of her shirt pulled away just enough that he can see where the valley of her chest begins to curve, and the cheeky lace panties are working utter wonders for her ass. He can’t stop staring. He physically can’t pull himself away, his eyes bouncing across every pixel, attempting to commit the picture to memory to keep it locked in the back of his brain forever.

Y/N awaits anxiously for his reaction, biting into the pad of her thumb as the seconds list by, wondering if he had enjoyed the nude or if he was just sitting there judging all her flaws. It’s been so long since she’s sent a risky photo like that, she can’t help but stress. Sharing your body with someone digitally is almost as intimate as real sex and it comes with similar worries and insecurities. Was the angle good? Are her stretch marks unattractive? Are the dimples along her backside gross? Is he second-guessing their arrangement? Is he wishing they hadn’t met?

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

God, you look stunning. Like a proper fucking dream.

All of her concerns immediately disintegrate, replaced by an odd sense of pride. She’s happy that he enjoyed it, and she’s thankful for the caliber of his response. Most men don’t care to comment that nicely, if they comment at all, and Harry’s enthusiasm only excites her further. She wants to keep going.

You look pretty fucking good yourself. Wish I could just kneel between your thighs, take you into my mouth, and make you feel good for hours.

Harry struggles to get saliva down his parched throat, her words bouncing around the inside of his skull, sending a current of bliss directly to where he needs it.

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

For hours, Harry. I’d literally just sit between your legs and let you fuck my face again. Let you use me to make yourself cum.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry’s broken whine echoes off the tall walls of his home, one of his big hands finding a path to his curls and tugging in desperation. He needs to keep composure.

Harry’s next snapshot comes through and Y/N has to screw her eyes shut for a second to brace the bolt of electricity that zips down to her core.

The boy’s thighs have parted wider, his feet now down from the table, knees hanging off the edge of the sofa. His free hand has delved below his briefs, pulling them up just enough to show a tad of the neatly trimmed area beneath. His fingers are cupped over his cock, hiding it from plain view, but the imprint of his knuckles on the fabric suggest he’s gripping it tightly. The longer she looks, the more she notices— specifically, a dark damp patch spreading at the middle of his boxers and she knows damn well what it is. The fact that she’d got him riled up enough that he’s leaking through like that...She can hardly breathe right.

Shit, you look so good. How do you always look that fucking good? I just want to feel you stretch me out while you moan into my mouth.

Harry slowly starts pumping his palm up and down his cock as he rereads her words, catching his lower lip between his teeth, his naked and flushed chest stuttering. He doesn’t want to be the douche that tells her to send another picture, but he really needs her to. He wants to see what she’s doing, how she’s fairing. Wants to know if he has her as fucked as she has him right now.

It’s almost like they share a telepathic link because not even five seconds later, another beautifully filthy photo is decorating his screen.

This time around, Y/N has decided to fully lay on her back, spreading her legs open and drawing her knees up slightly so that her thighs are not only flexing, but displaying all the love bites he’d left only a few days prior. They’re all different shades of purple and brown, scattered over the satin suppleness of her skin, painting a canvas of the heated night they’d shared. It’s art at its most prestigious, if he’s ever seen it. And she has her hand ducked below her panties, the outline of her fingers situated right over her clit.

Harry’s own hand instinctively tightens around his length, pulling a weak groan from his parted lips. He throws his head back against the backrest of the couch, bucking into his palm and teasing his forefinger over his bubbling tip. He spreads the precum all over the sensitive head, whimpering when the draft from the air conditioning caresses it and sends a quiver toppling over his shoulders.

Fuck, she’s driving him mental. There’s only one way to take care of this effectively, despite their distance.

I’m going to call you.

Y/N gulps heavily, licking over her chapped lips and feeling her pulse jump at the realization that she’ll be getting to hear his throaty voice coax her through an orgasm. Not only that, but she’ll get to hear him cum, too. She’ll get to hear every shattered gasp and needy mewl, almost as if he were pouring all those sounds of pleasure right into her ears in person.

The mortal’s heart hiccups when his contact pops up on the Caller ID, phone vibrating insistently. After a deep breath taken to ground herself, she slides her shaky thumb over the glass, slowly bringing the device up to her ear. Her voice is soft and timid as ever, a tremble running through its undertone. “H-Hello?”

Harry’s words come through the crackling speaker as dark and smoky as whiskey, pouring into her mind and intoxicating her as easily as the real liquor would.

“Flip onto your stomach and take off the lace. Now.”

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years

Text

Shame {Harry Potter x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2328 Summary: After being tortured at Malfoy Manor, you find a little peace and quiet with Harry. Warnings: A bit of Bellatrix torture, a Mean Girls reference.

You refused to cry in front of your cousin Bellatrix, no matter how much she scared you. And she was absolutely terrifying. Girl to girl, she had said, as she pulled your friends away from you. She had you on the floor in seconds, writhing and screaming in pain but you still refused to cry. The only tears that you let go were from relief when the crucio spell had been pulled from you, and she tried to get information. Her wand threateningly brushed against your face, and you could see her lip twitching, just wanting to cast more cruel spells. Being family meant that she was treating you rougher than she would anyone else - you were more of a disappointment. You were born with that on your shoulders just because your father was Sirius Black. Traitor to wizardkind because your father was said to have worked with Voldemort and sold out the Potters. Traitor to The Death Eaters because it was known among them that he didn’t. At least when he was proven innocent, you were able to make friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and attempt to aid them in bringing down The Dark Lord.

You didn’t answer any of her questions. You weren’t crying. You weren’t giving her any of the reactions that she wanted to badly out of you, which was just irritating her more. It got to the point where she brought out her favorite knife to use on you - which actually calmed you down. Even if she were to cut you, or stab you, it would still be better than the cruciatus curse.

But it still hurt. Bloody Hell, it hurt. You were screaming in pain as she tore through your flesh, having to stop and wipe viciously to get the blood away to see where she could put the next letter. You didn’t watch. You had your head turned to the other side so you wouldn’t have to see. But your mind was putting together the letters that she was making.

T R A I T O R

“Please - stop - please,” You said as she dug in for the O. Curves were very hard to make on skin with a knife. And she was really trying to make it perfect. You were screaming now. She was going in and in, making it deeper. You were sure at this point that it was written on your very bones. No amount of healing spells would be able to erase it completely. It was carved into your soul.

She finally left you, but you were too tired and in pain to move. Your arm was splayed out, the blood drying and starting to flake off, a puddle of it beneath you. You stared blankly at the ceiling ahead of you, watching the shadows move through the corners like dementors. You wished they were dementors. You’d give anything not to feel.

“Y/N, come on,” You felt someone shaking at your body. Thinking that it was Bellatrix, you hid back inside of yourself. You tried to isolate your mind from everything. You couldn’t take any more pain. You just couldn’t.

It took you a couple of minutes to realize that you were no longer on a cold, hard floor but you were laying on what was a soft bed. You opened your eyes, them feeling like they were swollen shut from the crying that you had done after Bellatrix had left, and through the tears and the dried eye gunk, you faintly saw light beige walls. You blinked slowly. This had to be a trick. Some kind of mind game. Lull you into a false sense of security.

Your name was said against and this time you rolled over to see who it was, expecting it to be one of the Deatheaters, or their sons. But it wasn’t. It was Harry, and he looked more frazzled than you had ever seen him. His hair was always a mess and it seemed like his glasses were always askew, but right now, he was just a mess. He looked like he had been crying, and hasn’t slept for days. But of course he wouldn’t have been able to sleep. You all had been taken by Death Eaters and tortured.

“Harry?” You asked, wanting to make absolute sure that it was him. Polyjuice Potions were a thing after all. “What was the name of Sirius’s dog form?”

“Snuffles,” He said, without the least trace of humor. So it really was Harry. You wiped at your eyes, feeling the dried on traces of eye gunk and tried to get them off. You sat up and looked at him, sitting over your bed, like he was holding some sort of vigil over you.

“You look like you haven’t slept in ages, Harry. Where are we? How did we get out of there?”

“I haven’t,” Harry admitted, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his own eyes, then put them back on. “We’re at Shell Cottage - Bill and Fleur’s place. It’s a long story but ... Dobby saved us. And Bellatrix killed him. We buried him already.”

“I’m so sorry,” You said, reaching for him and took his hand. “Come on, lay down with me, you look like you need this bed more than I do.”

Moving triggered a pain in your arm - you had almost forgotten about what Bellatrix had carved on you but the memories came flooding back. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.

“Thanks,” Harry said. He had a second’s look of hesitation, like he wanted to protest, but he did look like he was going to fall over from exhaustion at any second. The bed was big enough for two, and he fit in nicely against you, putting you between himself and the wall. You rolled onto your side, your good side, your hurt arm falling over him. You were wearing sleeves, which made you wonder who dressed you. Oh, you sure hoped to God it was Fleur, and that none of the boys had seen what was written on you.

“How long have we been here?” You questioned, softly. The cottage was quiet, save for the faint noise of someone moving around in the kitchen. You could hear the waves outside. It was a very soothing sound, and it made your body relax. That combined with Harry next to you, laying on his back, his chest rising and falling with his breath. You felt somewhat safe for the first time in weeks. And you chose to enjoy it by reaching over with your painful arm, and removing the glasses from Harry’s face. He allowed you to without a fuss, and you folded them up and set them on the nightstand.

“Since yesterday,” Harry explained, and told the tale of the grand escape - including how he had been the one that had scooped you up after you passed out from Bellatrix’s torturing. You inched a little closer to him as he spoke, eyes wide as you listened to how he had covered your arm with one of Bill’s sweaters before anyone else could see.

“Why?” You asked, self consciously pulling the sleeve down over your hands. The sweater was one of Mrs. Weasley’s, you realized, as you caught a better look. A big B on the front. It was cozy, and warm, and it had a big hand in making you feel safe. “Why did you hide it from everybody?”

“Thought you’d want to tell the others about it on your own terms,” Harry said. “At least you’re able to hide it. Not like it’s in the middle of your forehead or anything.”

That almost made you smile. The closest that you had been to it in a while. You moved closer still, placing your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat through the fabric of his own clothes - another Weasley jumper, another B. It seemed they were all that Bill and Fleur had to spare that were warm enough for the foggy weather outside. You didn’t mind at all, and apparently Harry didn’t either. It smelt of laundry detergent. Clean soap.

“Thank you,” You hummed into his sweater. “Are you alright, Harry? I can’t imagine what they must have put you -”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry said, sharply. You were used to these tones coming from him, and hardly stirred from your position. In fact, you brought your hand onto his chest as well, to try to comfort him.

“Okay. All that matters is that we’re out now. And ... and we’re safe for a little while.”

“We’re never safe,” Harry groaned. Hesitantly, he put his arms around you, resting his hands on your sweater, keeping you close.

“I know you feel like you have the world on your shoulders, but we can’t take this for granted. This is the only chance for a breather that we have. Let’s just ... enjoy it for a couple of minutes.”

You held him even closer, and turned your head to kiss his chest through the sweater. He was your savior right now, and you were so very thankful. Your angel with messy black hair and bottle green eyes. You, like many other girls, had a crush on him during school, but you were lucky enough to actually get to know him, which made it grow. You just never said anything because of the stress that he was always under. He didn’t need to know. But this was your moment to breathe, the safest you two had been in a while.

“You got your scar because of me,” Harry said, quietly.

“Stop it,” You said, lightly smacking his chest. “Don’t you dare put that on yourself. I was a traitor to her long before I even met you, Harry. It’s Bellatrix’s fault, no one elses. Why do you do that to yourself?”

“Do what?”

“Take responsibility for everything. I know what I signed up for when I joined your cause, when I became your friend. I can take the burden for what had been to me, honey. You don’t need to do that. You already keep enough on your plate.”

He rubbed at his eyes. You thought you saw some tears there, but it could have been from exhaustion. And then his arms were around you, hugging you. You felt him kiss the top of your head.

“It’s just hard not to,” He admitted to you. And you could understand that. He felt like a lot of the things that went bad were his fault - and he probably blamed himself for Dobby as well.

“I know. But when all of this is over, and it will be over because good will always win, Harry, we’re all going to take the victory together, just as we take the hurt together. And you wouldn’t dare try to take that from us, would you?”

Harry chuckled, and you could feel his chest moving beneath your head. It was a nice sound, because as long as there was a bit of laughter still in the air, there was still hope in the world. There was a moment of silence, only gulls being heard from outside now, as you two held onto each other in there. You could almost believe that there was barely a world out there beyond the beach, and that’s just what your mind needed in order to let your body fully relax against Harry. Your fingers played at the collar of the sweater, feeing how it must have been an older one since it was a little stretched out.

“Are you going to stay with me?” Harry asked, breaking the moment.

“Of course,” You answered, thinking that it should have been obvious. “Haven’t I always?”

“I could never tell if it was because you were stubborn or if you felt obliged.”

“Definitely stubborn,” You said, chuckling. “I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do, Harry. That especially extends to trying to protect the people that I care about. And save the world. The bragging rights are going to be insane.”

That even made Harry laugh a little, his arms resting on you, squeezing you just a little bit. “Is that the only reason?”

You thought for a moment, and then decided - tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. You could get grabbed by the Death Eaters again at any time. And there was the final battle that was upcoming, when you and your friends would have to kill Voldemort once and for all, once all the Horcruxes were destroyed. “Love is the main reason,” You told him, fingers clinging onto his shirt now. You were scared he was going to push you away. But he didn’t. He just held onto you a little tighter.

“That’s a good reason,” He said, and you relaxed against him. He must have been thinking of his parents, you thought. You had heard how his mother’s love had protected him from the Killing Curse in the first place.

“Best reason for anything,” You agreed. “Hey Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“After we save the world and go through all of the celebration parties and stuff - do you maybe want to have dinner with me or something? I think the Leaky Cauldron will probably remain standing, even after this war is long over.”

Harry chuckled at that, a soft and breathy sound, just enough to not disturb the air too much. “Yeah, sounds grool-”

You felt him pause at that. You licked your lips and tried to hold in your laugh, knowing that the shaking would give you away.

“I just tried to say great and cool at the same time,” He groaned.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I think it sounded pretty ... grool.”

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter x reader #Harry Potter oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #x reader #harryp

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nineteenninety-six · 3 years

Text

It’s What We Make It

Just a warning, this is technically based in S2 but at the same time it’s not. It contains scenes from seasons I like but it doesn’t follow the show’s timeline. Also, a lot of time skips because I’m lazy.

This took me two weeks to write and though I wish it could be better, I’m done with it. It was meant to be a request fulfil but it’s so far gone from that lol. Also this better appear in the bloody tags otherwise I’ll fight someone

Word Count: 14,827

The night (Y/N) escaped from her family's home would be a night she would never forget.

She disappeared in the middle of the night and triggered the plan she had spent almost a year planning. Due to what her family did for a living, she worked alone in case she got caught.

Her family had enough money to the point where they wouldn't notice a small amount going missing, which is exactly what she did. She took enough to ensure she left the country quickly and safely. She also stashed a few jewels and other expensive items to sell once she reached her destination.

She planned to go to England. She didn’t know where in England she would go but England was far away enough from her home country that she should be able to live comfortably and without fear.

(Y/N) didn’t know what her family would think about her disappearance, maybe they’d think that a rival gang had kidnapped her, but she knew that they wouldn’t let it simply go and they would send people to look for her.

.•° ✿ °•.

Once (Y/N) arrived in England, she took a random train to Birmingham and then another to Small Heath. She had no clue where she was going or what these places were like but she did not let that stop her and if it was not the place for her, then she would move on.

When she arrived it was late in the day but the streets were not quiet and (Y/N) could see a pub at the end of the street that was filled with people to the point that people spilled out onto the street outside and the faint sound of people talking and singing spilled out alongside them.

(Y/N) gave the pub one last glance before she made her way into the small hotel and paid for a room. She would spend a few days at the hotel and discovering the place before she decided if Small Heath was a place where she was to stay long term.

(Y/N) garnered a few stares of curiosity as she walked around Small Heath which wasn’t surprising since she was clearly an outsider. The town was clearly one that wasn’t used to new people but they seemed merely curious at best.

She wandered around the main road where all the shops rested, making mental notes of them and she passed by the pub that was alive with people the night before stopped by a small cafe for lunch. The sweet owner easily answered any questions she had, seemingly not having an issue with the fact that she wasn’t from around there and even though she had only been in Small Heath for less than two days, (Y/N) was pretty sure this was the place she wanted to stay.

She asked the cafe owner about any job openings in town and was informed of the Garrison, the pub she saw earlier, was looking for a barmaid.

(Y/N) had never worked a day in her life but she wouldn’t be able to survive for long on the money she got from selling the stuff she had brought with her. She didn’t have the skills or the experience to become a barmaid or for any job for that matter, as she never had a reason to. Her family had drilled into her at a young age that once she was old enough, she would be married to another gang family. Either as a gift to thank a family that had been long loyal or to a rival to calm rising tensions and to gain allies.

She had been coddled for her entire life. Her parents gave her the best tutors in the country but she had barely left their manor at all through her childhood, which gave no social skills or friends but that was all about to change.

When she entered the pub, there was only one man in there and he was sweeping the floor but he looked up when she walked in.

“I heard that you were looking for a barmaid?” (Y/N) spoke first, when the man did not.

The man looked her up and down with a disbelieving stare, “You? A barmaid? Don’t make me laugh”

“Please,” (Y/N) took a step forward, “I’m desperate”

“Look, the people around here aren’t nice. Especially when they are drunk. You just look a bit too delicate to work here”

“I can hold my own”

She could. It wasn’t uncommon for her father to hold parties or dinners where he and his allies would drink until the sun rose and he’d always make her stay the entire night, most likely to show off how dutiful she was. After all, the men in that type of business weren’t looking for a headstrong and independent woman, they’re looking for a meek woman that would obey their instructions and carry their children to continue the family name and (Y/N) wasn’t that type of woman.

The man still didn’t look like he believed her but he must have seen the desperation in her eyes as he let out a resigned sigh, “Trial run tonight. If you do well, you get the job.”

(Y/N) bobs her head with a pleased smile, “Thank you.”

“Harry” The man held out his hand.

(Y/N) shook it, giving him her name.

“Seven pm on the dot tonight.”

“Thank you, Harry, I’ll be there”

.•° ✿ °•.

At seven pm, the pub only had a few customers but she dealt with those easily. Harry had taught her how to pour a pint and create a few other drinks and luckily for her, the people of Small Heath were simple when it came to their drinks.

By nine pm, the Garrison was filled to the brim with people. A portion of the pub was loudly singing along to the song that the woman at the piano was playing and the rest of the patrons were talking with their friends, almost shouting to be heard above the singing.

The atmosphere was unlike anything (Y/N) had ever experienced before but she found herself enjoying it. She didn’t think she stopped moving for a moment as she spun around the bar, fulfilling orders until a small window at the corner of the bar, something she hadn’t noticed until that moment had opened up, causing her to pause in her steps. It was more out of surprise than anything else at first but the man at the other side of the window with his bright blue eyes had also caught her attention.

With Harry busy, (Y/N) made her way to the small window, “...May I help you?”

The man’s eyes flickered up to her and he seemed speechless for a moment before he orders, “Two bottles of dark rum and four glasses”

(Y/N) nods and turns around only to smack straight into Harry’s chest.

“I’ll get that for you, Tommy. (Y/N) there are some people down at the end who want some ale”

(Y/N) looks up at Harry, confused on why he suddenly butt in and took over the order but just as she was going to silently nod and do as she was told but ‘Tommy’, spoke up before she could.

“Let her do it, Harry. She looks perfectly capable”

Harry looked like he would argue, but he quickly nodded and allowed (Y/N) to get the drinks but he quickly followed behind her.

“Anything that he or the other members of the Shelby family is free of charge.”

(Y/N) frowned and turned to ask him why but he had already disappeared to fulfil the orders of the other patrons.

She picked up the two bottles of rum and placed them by the window before she went off to collect the glasses.

“Harry says everything is on the house,” She says as he places the glasses down next to the bottles of rum, hoping that he could explain why.

“Hmm,” The man simply hummed as he picked up the drinks and placed them on the table in the snug behind him.

He turned around but stopped midway before he turned back to face her, looking at her up and down. “You’re not from around here”

“What gave it away?” (Y/N) responded sarcastically, knowing that her accent stood out.

“What’s your name?” Tommy’s interest had been piqued and he leant forward on the bartop

“What’s yours?” (YN) threw back.

Tommy squinted his eyes and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. She had been raised amongst egotistical and big-headed men and she knew how to deal with them.

“Tommy Shelby”

“(Y/N)”

“I’ll see you again, (Y/N)”

“I’ll make sure of it, Mr Shelby”

Tommy gave her one last nod before he disappeared into the snug and closed the window doors behind him.

(Y/N) was swept up with the rest of the customers the rest of the night and only got a break when they had closed up for the night and she was cleaning up.

“Listen, (Y/N), it’s best if you try to keep away from the Shelby’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just promise me that you’ll stay away from them?”

“Only if I have the job”

Harry was silent for a moment before he sighed and nodded “Alright, you have the job. You did good tonight anyway.”

“Thank you, Harry”

(Y/N) had spent the rest of the night looking at places to rent in the newspaper, marking down which one suited her needs, making notes to call the landlords in the morning. With a secure job, she could now start to settle down in Small Heath.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) found a small flat that was perfect for her, she had paid a deposit and the first month of rent before moving herself and her singular suitcase into her new place. It was the opposite of what she grew up with but she found that it didn’t affect her as much as she thought it would. Her old bedroom was at least four times as big as her dingy little flat but she found the little room appropriate enough and she was determined to perservere and not give up.

Once she had finished settling in, she took another walk around Small Heath before she had to go in to work that evening.

She had found herself by the cut and she stood right by the edge with the tips of her shoes just over the edge as she thought about her life. She knew it wouldn’t be long before her family somehow narrow where she had run off too, no doubt they had already sent men to America, Australia and England already but she hoped that Small Heath was a small enough place that she’d have at least a few years before she had to move on.

“Hullo”

(Y/N) swung around, not hearing whoever it was come up behind her but her momentum had caused her to trip over her feet and fall backwards, falling into the canal with a loud splash. Her thick coat and her shoes had weighed her down as she struggled to resurface.

Tommy raced over to the edge and kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat and cap before he dived in after her. He swam down until he could see her and reached out and grabbed her arm before he started to swim to the surface, pulling her along.

When they both reached the surface, they gasped for air and (Y/N) coughed and sputtered out the water that she had accidentally swallowed. Tommy swam to edge, still tugging her along before he pulled himself out of the water before helping her out.

(Y/N) coughed a few more times before falling back so that she was flat on her back as she stared up at the sky.

Tommy walked over to her and looked down at her, “You alright?”

(Y/N) glared at him as she took his offered hand and stood up, “Do you creep up behind every woman you know?”

“Only the ones that fascinate me”

His words caused (Y/N)’s glare to falter, “I suppose I should feel flattered then ?”

Tommy ignored her question as he turned on his heel and began to walk away before he called out to her over his shoulder, “C’mon, follow me”

(Y/N) grimaced as she moved to follow after him, her stocking covered feet squelched in her heels as she walked behind him. The rest of her clothes clung to her uncomfortably and her hair stuck to her face and neck.

She didn’t know where Tommy was going and she didn’t exactly know why she was following him either but she supposed he fascinated her as she did him.

He took her to Watery Lane and into one of the houses, and she still squeaked uncomfortably behind him as she followed him into the kitchen.

“Sit”

Tommy pointed to a random seat before he shuffled around the kitchen putting a full kettle on the stovetop and letting it boil while (Y/N) sat down as he instructed.

(Y/N) looked at the kitchen around her in curiosity. The walls had been knocked down to let it be more open and just to the side of her there was a large green double door which she guessed led to the property next door but she had no clue why. She could hear the faint sounds of people talking through it but it was too muffled to hear anything clearly.

Just as she snapped out of her mind, Tommy had placed a cup down in front of her.

(Y/N) looked down at the cup in curiosity, “What’s this?”

Tommy sat down on the other side of the table, across from her with his own cup.

“Tea. To warm you up”

“What type of ‘tea’?” (Y/N) asked, “Anyway, I think getting out of my wet clothes will help more than a cup of hot..tea”

“Tea, tea. Have you never seen tea before?”

“I have never heard the word tea before. In my native language, we call this something else.” (Y/N) carelessly reveals, “Are you meant to drink it straight”

Tommy files away her first sentence away in his mind, making a mental note to find out where she was from before he leant across the table and pulled the teacup closer to him.

“You can if you want. Most add milk and sugar”

“How much-” (Y/N) asked, “How do you do yours?”

“Splash of milk, two teaspoons of sugar”

(Y/N) nods, “Okay, I’ll try it the way you like.”

Tommy nodded and did the tea for her. Never at all did he think that he would be making a cup of tea for a woman the second time he had ever met her but he supposed he did feel a little guilty for her falling into the cut and almost drowning.

(Y/N) took a sip and let a pleased hum, “This is...nice.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, I enjoy your...tea”

Tommy’s lip quirked at her words but the smile that nearly graces his lips quickly vanishes when Polly walks through the green doors,

“Thomas, have you-oh” Polly freezes in her steps at the sight of the stranger sitting at the table.

“Polly,” Tommy cleared his throat as he stood up, “This is (Y/N), the new barmaid at the Garrison”

(Y/N) stood up and shook the hand of Polly and tried not the feel exposed as the woman raked her eyes across her.

“Why are the two of you wet?”

“I fell into the cut and Tommy helped me” (Y/N) quickly spoke before Tommy could speak.

Polly looked at Tommy as if she couldn’t believe what (Y/N) was saying was true. (Y/N) finished off her cup of tea before he cleared her throat, catching their attention, “Thank you for the tea, Tommy but it’s probably best I get home. Staying in wet clothes will only make me sick”

Tommy nodded and seemed perfectly fine with just walking her to the door but Polly spoke up for him, “Tommy walk her home”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue but the look Tommy sent her told her that it was better to not argue.

They walked back to her flat in silence and it made (Y/N) realise how weird her day was. In what was meant to be a normal day exploring, ended up with her almost dying and then being treated with a cup of tea by a man whose mere presence prompted question marks.

.•° ✿ °•.

That evening (Y/N) was back at the Garrison, pulling pints and serving customers. It was never not busy and (Y/N) wondered how she didn’t end up with a headache every night but she enjoyed the work.

When the pub quietened suddenly, it caused (Y/N) to look up from her work and she saw Tommy, Polly along with three other men who she had never seen before entering. Polly and the men entered the little snug whilst Tommy made his way up to the bar and with Harry overwhelmed, (Y/N) made her way over to him after she finished with her current customer.

“How may I help you, Mr Shelby?” She asked as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Bucket of mild and four mugs and one whiskey”

(Y/N) nodded and went to go fulfil his order when Harry called out to her,

“We’re out of the mild! I’m gonna go get a new barrel.”

(Y/N) turned around and gave Tommy a sorry smile, “I’ll bring it to you when Harry’s done”

Tommy gave her a nod before he disappeared in the snug. (Y/N) watched him for a moment before she turned to the next patron with a kind smile.

.•° ✿ °•.

Tommy joined his family in the snug and sat in his usual seat, paying half attention to the conversation around until it suddenly turned to him.

“Oi, Tom, who’s the new barmaid?” John asked, “And where are our fucking drinks?”

“A new hire by Harry” Tommy said as he lit up a cigarette, “Needed a new barrel, it’ll be here soon.”

Just then (Y/N) walked into the snug, bucket and mugs in hand.

“Sorry for the wait,” She said as she placed them on the table and quickly disappeared back out of the snug.

Once she left, John and Arthur let out low whistles.

“She’s a looker ain’t she” John commented

Polly rolled her eyes at her nephew’s behaviour while Michael noticed something else about the woman.

“Where is she from? Her accent is not from England”

Tommy shrugged, “Haven’t a clue”

Polly raised an eyebrow, “You don’t know? Usually, you’d know everything about her, especially since she works at the pub”

Tommy ignored her for a moment as he began to scoop up a mug of ale, his brothers following suit before he answered her.

“There’s something she’s hiding and I don’t think any call I make will clue me into it”

.•° ✿ °•.

That night as (Y/N) and Harry closed up, (Y/N) finally asked Harry about something that had been itching her about Tommy Shelby.

“Harry, when you warned me about Mr Shelby, what did you mean? What do the Shelby’s do?”

Harry sighed as he dropped his rag down on the bar, “They’re bad men. They’re a gang, they fix races, kill people, blackmail, threaten, you know all of it. If they want it, they get it.”

(Y/N) settled in silence at his words, her mind racing. Did she just escape from the gang at home just to run into a new gang? Was her luck that shitty?

She remained silent for the rest of the night but vowed that she’d try her best to avoid Tommy Shelby.

.•° ✿ °•.

Avoiding Tommy was easier said than done, he was somehow everywhere yet at the same time it was like he was a ghost. Whenever she saw him on the streets of Small Heath, she ducked into the many side streets and alleyways of the town. Whenever he entered the Garrison, she took his order swiftly and avoided eye contact.

Tommy had noticed her behaviour.

A few weeks later he found her once again by the cut but this time she was sitting on the edge with her feet hanging over the edge. Tommy walked over to her but didn’t sit down next to her.

“You’ve been hiding from me”

(Y/N) didn’t even look up at him when she replied, “Have I? It seems that you’ve found me”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

Tommy hummed, “I suppose I don’t. Not really.”

“But you do though, don’t you? You care”

“I do”

“Why?”

“You fascinate me.”

“...I’ve heard about the things you do Tommy.” (Y/N) decided to tell him why she had been avoiding him.

“Yeah?” Tommy asked as he took a seat next to her, knowing that this wasn’t going to be a short conversation.

“I do...I do not understand why”

“Growing up around here you have to know how to fight otherwise you won't survive. You have to adapt and grow. Fixing races or scamming the rich to get some money was the only way that we were able to feed our family at times.” Tommy offered her a cigarette which she accepted. “After the war, whilst we were at war, fighting for our lives and country, the men at the top simply sat at home and continued getting richer.”

(Y/N) had a frown on her face as she took a couple of drags of her cigarette, “But you murder people?”

“I’ve killed a few people”

“And that doesn’t affect you?”

“In the war, I killed about a hundred men who were just following orders like me. I used to beat myself up about taking a life but now, killing the people who profited off the war in some fashion barely gets me to blink”

“...So you only target the rich?”

Tommy nods, “You ask anyone and they’d probably say that we’re a pain in the arse but we’re their pain in the arse. We pump the money back through the town, making sure everyone has jobs and that they can support their families”

(Y/N)’s heart eased at his clarification.

“My fa-” (Y/N) cut herself off realising that she was about to spill too much information about herself, “Back home, the gangs there targeted everybody. The poorer people suffered the most since they couldn’t pay ransoms or blackmail...every week a body would be discovered. Politicians and the most powerful men in the country were being controlled by these gangs, being played like marionettes. Not to mention the constant wars between rival gangs…”

(Y/N) hadn’t spoken about how life was back home and it felt good to finally speak to someone about it. She knew she had it good considering she rarely left the family manor and had anything and everything she could have asked for and nothing that her family did had negatively affected her in any way.

“Is that why you left your country?”

(Y/N) nodded, “I was scared that I left one gang and fell into the grasp of another”

Tommy took one last drag of his cigarette before he chucked it in the cut and (Y/N) followed suit.

Tommy took her chin in his hands and pulled her face so that she was facing him, “You won’t be hurt here. You’re safe”

(Y/N)’s placed her hand over his that was still on her face but she didn’t try to remove it, “I’m am not safe, they will find me”

“Who will?”

(Y/N) gave him a soft smile as she finally pulled his hand away, “Never you mind. I’ve already said too much”

(Y/N) stood up and brushed off the dust and dirt from her before she offered him her hand, “Walk me to work?”

Tommy grabbed her hand and pulled himself up, “Of course”

The walk back was silent but (Y/N) felt at ease now that she knew the truth behind Tommy and the gang’s motives.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) no longer hid whenever she saw Tommy in the streets but instead gave him smiles. He wouldn’t always return them but (Y/N) felt a warmth bloom in her chest whenever he gave her a nod or a tiny smile in answer.

One day, in the early afternoon, Tommy and his brother, Arthur had entered the Garrison, so she went over to take their order.

“What can I get you two?”

“Go get Harry for us”

(Y/N) got Harry and moved further down the bar but still close enough to listen to their conversation.

“What can I get you, boys?”

“Harry,” Tommy gave him a smile that wasn’t sincere in the slightest, “We want to buy your pub”

(Y/N)’s mouth dropped and so did Harry’s.

“Uhhh, it’s not for sale I’m afraid”

“It wasn’t a request, Harry.”

Harry instantly deflated as he knew he couldn’t exactly say no to the Peaky Blinders unless he wanted his eyes cut.

“Alri-”

“You can’t just do that!” (Y/N) stepped in, throwing Tommy a glare, “Harry said it wasn’t for sale, that’s your answer and you should accept it”

“Harry was just about to agree-”

“Through coercion” Once again, (Y/N) cut in.

Harry’s eyes were wide as he tugged on (Y/N)’s arm, telling her to stop but she didn’t listen.

“I didn’t make any threats. Did you hear me make a threat, Arthur?”

“Nah, I didn’t hear you make any threats brother” Arthur backed his brother up

“The implication was there. ‘Do as I ask or get your eyes cut’.”

Harry pulled on her arm again but (Y/N) shrugged him off.

Tommy sighed, he patience wearing thin, “Listen, we’re just offering a considerable amount to buy the pub, nothing more”

“Since you have so much money, build a bloody pub yourselves, or better yet shove it up your-”

Harry finally pulled her hard enough that she had to move unless she wanted to fall flat on her face,

“(Y/N) go in the back. I’ll deal with it.” Harry pushed her away, “Go”

(Y/N) threw one last glare over her shoulder before she disappeared in the back. She paced around in Harry’s office waiting for him, she knew that he’d more than likely accept the Shelby’s offer but a part of her hoped that he didn’t.

When he returned there was a roll of money in his hand which caused (Y/N) to release a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t want to end up in the cut” Harry tried to explain

“I know, I know. I’m not blaming you, I’m just annoyed at those Shelby men.”

“Listen, I know your stubborn but don’t go creating fights with those men”

“I can’t promise you anything” (Y/N) walked towards the exit, “I’ll go back to the bar”

(Y/N) was in such a bad mood for the rest of the day that the patrons simply made an order and then quickly scurry off once they got their drink, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her if they’d pushed her.

She was still in a mood once she had finished for the day and stormed home but once she collapsed on her bed, she felt a bit of tension drain out of her shoulders.

Despite how much she wanted to stay in bed, she knew couldn’t do it with the day's clothing still on her. She kicked her shoes off in the corner of her flat and chucked her coat on the small couch before pouring herself a glass of whiskey.

She sipped on the whiskey as she wiped down her face with a damp cloth and changed into her nightdress before taking a seat near the window with the rest of her drink, the bottle next to her on the side table. Usually, she read a bit before she slept but it was raining that night and the sound of it hitting the window always calmed her, so she simply looked out of the window, watching the last few stragglers of Small Heath wander through the streets.

She had been at peace before loud knocking disrupted her and she huffed as she made her way over to her door, only opening it enough to fit her head through.

“What do you want?” Tommy was on the other side.

“I’m here to talk”

“It’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“I want to talk now” Tommy pushed the door open and forced himself into her flat.

“Thomas! You can’t just force yourself into my flat” (Y/N) hissed at him as she closed the door behind him knowing she wouldn’t be able to physically remove him at this point.

Tommy looked around the flat checking it out as she took off his coat and hat, throwing next to where (Y/N) left hers.

“Nice little place you got here”

“Why are you really here Tommy?”

Tommy turned around and raised an eyebrow when he saw what she was wearing causing (Y/N) to wrap her arms around her chest as she hurried to her dressing gown and putting it on.

“What do you want?” (Y/N) repeated herself, “If this is about earlier, then I refuse to speak about it”

“It is about today and you will speak about it”

“Well if you truly want to speak then let it be known that, I will not sit around and let you bully people into doing what you want”

“That’s how it works around here”

“That’s how you force it to work around here. People would rather say yes than end up blind or floating in the cut” (Y/N) corrected him.

She took a deep breath before she topped off her drink and offered him one, “Whiskey?”

“Please”

She gave him a glass before shifting the coats that rested on the couch onto the coat rack and then taking a seat on the now free couch and Tommy soon joined her.

“You say you’re not like the people back home but your actions today say different” (Y/N) took a sip of her drink, “You keep going down this lane and you’ll be like my….”

Tommy turned to her, “Like your who?”

“Never mind.” (Y/N) shook her head, “You’ve never been told ‘no’ in your life have you?”

“I have. Polly tells me about five times every day”

“I don’t mean by your family. You’ve never been told by a woman or by anyone in Small Heath like Harry, have you?”

Tommy shrugged his shoulders, “No, I don’t think so”

“Luckily for you, I’m here to humble you”

“Luckily?”

“Luckily.”

Tommy placed his hand on her thigh which caused her to raise an eyebrow at him but she didn’t say nor do anything.

“I know nothing about you,” Tommy told her

“I could say the same thing about you”

“You know things about me. You know my family and my past.”

(Y/N) snorted, “That’s a bit of a stretch. I know that you fought in the war, that’s it”

“That’s more than I know about you.”

“Okay” (Y/N) holds up two fingers, “You get to know one thing about my past and one about my family”

Tommy sipped his drink as he thought about which questions he would ask her.

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Four older brothers”

“You’re alike our Ada”

(Y/N) had never met the Shelby lady but judging by the little bits she heard from the brothers, it seemed like she, other than their aunt, was one of the only people who could tell Tommy to ‘shut up’ or ‘fuck off’ without consequence.

“In more ways than you may realise”

“Where are you from?”

“Ah!” (Y/N) held up her hand, “I won’t answer that”

“Why not?” Tommy fiddled with the edge of her dressing gown, his hand shifting higher up her thigh

“Because I said so, now, new question”

“How was your life back home?”

“Easy. I never had to worry about if there would be food on the table at the end of the day but I was restricted.”

“How?”

“I was not allowed to leave my house nor have friends, my life was lonely.”

“Was you sick as a child?”

“No. I was a vulnerability” (Y/N) downed the rest of her drink before turning to Tommy, “I’ve said too much. That was more than one thing you pulled from me”

“I’ll make it up”

“I hope so”

(Y/N) bit her lip as she thought something through as the flat dissolved into silence.

“Are you going to sleep with me or are you going to continue to play with my dressing gown?”

“Are you going to say no?”

“I won’t be tonight”

“Good”

With that, Tommy swooped down and pulled her into a kiss, one that she eagerly returned. They kissed until they pulled apart needing air and Tommy pulled her onto his lap,

“You sure?”

“Yes”

(Y/N) pulled him into another kiss as Tommy lifted her into his arms as he pushed himself onto his feet and made his way over to her bed where he promptly dropped her though he quickly followed suit.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) mindlessly trailed her fingers across Tommy’s ribs as they laid together underneath her blanket. Tommy was sat up against the headboard as he smoked a cigarette while (Y/N) was curled into his side.

“Next week, I’ll take you down to London,” Tommy announced, breaking the silence.

(Y/N) snorted, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I don’t do dates.”

“Hmm, I suppose you don’t have to wine and dine them. Somehow your charm does the work”

“‘Somehow’?”

“You’re a miserable bastard Tommy” (Y/N) looked up at him and gave him a smirk

“Next week then?” Tommy ignored her jab

“Yeah, I’ll talk to Harry and get a day off”

“You don’t have to ask Harry. We own the bloody pub, take as many days off you want”

“You may own it but I do not work for you, I work for Harry” (Y/N) looked up and glared at Tommy, before rolling to the other side of the bed and wrapping the blankets around her shoulder, “Anyway, I’m going to sleep now. Stay or leave, I don’t mind.”

Not realising how tired she was, (Y/N) almost immediately fell asleep and Tommy stared at her sleep form.

He was enamoured with her, her mysterious life aside, he looked forward to every time they would meet and he enjoyed her fiery attitude towards him but he was confused as to what he wanted their relationship to be like. He didn’t date but he wanted something more than a purely sexual dynamic but he didn’t know what she wanted either. He could speak to her but that was outside of his comfort zone.

Tommy did not leave but he did not sleep, he continued to sit and smoke through the rest of his pack as he watched the sky turn light and the sun rose before he finally left.

.•° ✿ °•.

The next week, Tommy had picked (Y/N) up and together they drove down to London. She had dressed up a bit but nothing in something that would be overdoing it but she had noticed Tommy run his eyes over her appreciatively, something that she enjoyed.

“You know, I’ve never been to London” (Y/N) said as she watched the scenery go.

“Never?”

“No. When I arrived in the country, I came straight to Birmingham on a train and that was that”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it”

(Y/N) smiled at him, “Me too”

(Y/N) filled the rest of the journey with questions, not just about London but about Birmingham and Small Heath as well.

When they arrived in London, (Y/N) got swept up in all of it. She enjoyed the bright lights and people filled the street. It was unlike anything she’s ever experienced and she loved it.

Tommy took her to go see a play, and as she watched the actors perform, (Y/N) thought she should make a list of things that Tommy was introducing her to because she was quickly running out of fingers to count on.

After dinner, Tommy took her to a bridge that crossed the River Thames and they talked as they looked over the barrier, like they did by the cut in Small Heath.

“Tonight was great, thank you, Tommy”

Tommy took a step closer to her and took her hand in his, “Look, I don’t know what the future entails or what I exactly want between us but I do want you next to me”

“I’ve never heard of that position before” (Y/N) curled her fingers around his, “I’m not your partner, your fiance, your wife but…”

“You are my person”

“...Your person”

As Tommy leant forward to kiss her, (Y/N) suddenly snapped back, her head swivelling around.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

(Y/N) threw one last look over her shoulder before turning to him with a smile that he was starting to recognise as one she used as a distraction and a cover-up. It worked on him before and he has seen it being used against various members of Small Heath, who, once seeing that smile, had followed her conversation change though (Y/N) also had no problem using her sharp tongue if anyone crossed any lines.

.•° ✿ °•.

Just as Tommy leant down towards her, (Y/N) heard people speaking the language of her home country causing her to pull away from him. She strained to hear what was being said but the voices were quickly drowned by the chatter of over people on the bridge along with the cars that sped around them.

She looked around trying to see if she recognised anyone but yet again, the bridge was so busy, it was impossible for her. (Y/N) mentally cursed at herself, she was foolish to let her barriers remain down whilst they were in London, as it was more likely her father had men there and if she had been spotted, she wouldn’t know until it was too late.

When Tommy called for her attention she turned to him with a smile after one last look over her shoulder. While she couldn’t see anyone, she would be on edge for a while.

“So, did you book a hotel room or are we driving back tonight?”

Tommy stood back and offered her his arm, “To the hotel it is”

.•° ✿ °•.

A month after the trip to London, (Y/N) and Tommy were going steady, if that was an appropriate word for their dynamic. They saw each other on a regular business but he hadn’t taken her on a date anywhere as extravagant as the one to London but (Y/N) enjoyed the nights in her flat where they would just drink and talk.

She was less on edge now she was back in Small Heath and nothing had happened to her but she remained vigilant but her new life relatively undisturbed changed that evening.

She had been working at the pub as usual when she felt eyes on her, it was unusual that when a patron got drunk that they would stare at her but they would usually look away once a prostitute or a friend got their attention but this man was different.

She took quick glances at him as she worked and not once did this man's gaze falter, he had been nursing the same drink he had first ordered and his eyes were clear of any drunkness. (Y/N) knew something was up with him.

Not wanting to be defenceless, (Y/N) went out to the back of the pub and picked up one of the loose bricks that were laying around and put it in her handbag before she returned to the bar, hoping that the man assumed she only took a toilet break.

Once her shift ended, (Y/N) left Harry to close up and started her way home. The man had left with the other patrons when the pub was closed but (Y/N) knew the man was waiting in the shadows for her.

As she walked back to her flat, she heard his footsteps behind her and her heart raced. If her plan went wrong then she would either be brought back home or dead and out of two, she preferred death.

She sped up and turned into the upcoming alleyway as she took her handbag off of her shoulders and grasped it tightly in her hands and when the man turned into the alleyway, she swung her bag at his head and watched as it successfully connected, causing the man to collapse at her feet.

She paused waiting to see if he stirred but the man was knocked out. (Y/N) dropped to her knees before she searched the body, looking for a gun or any sort of weapon but when she heard hurried footsteps heading her way she froze before she pulled the brick out of her purse and held it aloft, ready to throw it whoever to turned the corner, fearing that the man had an accomplice that she didn’t see.

.•° ✿ °•.

On his way home from his office, Tommy had spotted (Y/N) on her way home from work but just as he was about to call her name and get her attention, he noticed the man following her.

He snapped his mouth shut but silently followed after the man but when he and (Y/N) disappeared in an alleyway, he ran after them, pulling his gun out of his holster as he did so.

He rounded into the alleyway, gun drawn and ready to shoot but froze at the scene he ran into. The man who had been following (Y/N) was unconscious on the floor and (Y/N) was crouched over him, brick in hand ready to throw.

Tommy let his arm drop to his side, “What the fuck is going on?”

(Y/N) who sighed in relief at the sight of him, threw the brick to the side and continued to search through his pockets like she was doing before Tommy interrupted.

“You have a place where we can drag him, yes?” (Y/N) asked as he pulled out a gun from one of his pockets

“(Y/N)! What the fuck is happening?”

“Yes or no, Thomas!” (Y/N) snapped, “I will tell you but only if you fucking help me”

Tommy tucked his gun back in his holster before he made his way over to the man and hooked his arms underneath his armpits and began dragging him towards one of the many empty buildings in Small Heath.

“Follow me”

(Y/N) quickly snatched up her purse and followed after him but she was constantly checking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following them but once they arrived at the building, most of the tension dropped out of her shoulders.

Once Tommy dropped the man in the middle of the room he turned on his heel and pointed a finger at her, “Right, tell me what the fuck is happening.”

(Y/N) tugged off her scarf and went over to the man and began tying his ankles together,

“You know I haven’t told you anything about my past” (Y/N) grunted as she pulled the knots tight, “Give me your tie”

“You’ve told me a little,” Tommy said as he tugged off his tie before he gave it to her.

As (Y/N) began tying his wrists together, she began to tell Tommy about her life.

“What I told about how gangs run the country wasn’t a lie. Life there is hell for the common people, death is better than living there. But…”

“You left out something…”

(Y/N) sighed as she turned to Tommy, “My family is the biggest criminal organisation in the country. They have politicians and royalty in their pockets. Honestly? It makes your little gang here seem like a joke in comparison”

“...So you ran away from home?”

(Y/N) glared at him, “It was not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me then”

(Y/N) made her way over to him and took a seat on the floor, “I couldn’t get anyone to help me because if we got caught they’d be killed and I couldn’t have that on my conscience. Also, they’re a liability. I had to steal some money and other items from my family so that I could sell them and I had only planned as far as getting out of my country. Everything after that was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Your life was good, why run?”

“It wasn’t ‘good’, it was easy. Besides I was the only daughter and my father would sell me to the highest bidder or to whoever he had been beefing with as a gift”

“Your brothers have no issue with that?”

“They’re men, so they’re more valuable” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and put quotation marks around the word valuable, “They’re all just like my father.”

“Your mother”

“A weak woman. Sold to my dad like how my dad would sell me off. Are you going to ask me about my uncles next?”

This time Tommy rolled his eyes but he took a seat next to her, “So, who is this man?”

“No clue” (Y/N) shrugged, “I’m guessing one of my father’s men or you know, one of the men of my father’s men”

“What do you plan on doing with him?” Tommy asked as he pulled out a couple of cigarettes and lit them, giving on to (Y/N), which she gratefully accepted.

“It depends on what information he knows and what he has shared, but I’ll probably have to kill him”

“Have you ever killed someone before?”

“Nope” (Y/N) sent Tommy a grin, “But you have”

.•° ✿ °•.

The man awoke with a sputtered cough before squirmed on the floor, trying to get up until he realised he had been tied up. He rolled on to his back and craned his head so that he was looking at Tommy and (Y/N)

“Release me!”

(Y/N) stood up and crushed her cigarette underneath her shoe before walking over to the man and stood over him.

“I have questions first”

“Fuck you!” The man cursed the language of (Y/N)’s home country.

“Ah!” (Y/N) grinned, “You speak the language, so I’m guessing my father sent you”

“I’m not the only one he sent” The man spat, “There’s about a hundred in England looking for you. Hundred in America and Australia too. No matter where you go, we’ll find you”

“Of course. I know that but I’m not particularly concerned about that, I’m more curious about you.”

“Me?”

(Y/N) nods, “You.”

Tommy watched the interaction with interest. He had no clue what they were saying but he assumed that (Y/N) was pressing the man for information and truthfully speaking, he found it kind of hot.

“It was my father who sent you, correct?”

The man nodded, “Whoever finds you and brings you back gets a seat on his council and your hand in marriage”

(Y/N) scoffed and rolled her eyes and then turned to Tommy, “My father is offering a seat on his council and my hand in marriage to whoever finds me and brings me to him. Interested?”

Tommy snorted, “Does the marriage come with a nice house in your country?”

“Hmm, I’d have to ask”

“Does the marriage come with a nice house?”

This time the man actually spat at her causing her to flinch back and wiped her face with her sleeve with a grimace.

“Okay, enough joking around. How did you find me?”

“London! A bunch of us were stationed there but I’m the only one who spotted you” The man had switched to English.

“Did you tell anyone that you were coming here to get me?”

“No. If I did, I would already be dead.” The man shook his head, “You don’t get a joint prize if you join up with someone.”

“So no one knows you’re here?”

“No”

“...Good”

(Y/N) turned away from the man and walked back to Tommy, “I need a favour”

Tommy raised a knowing brow, “What do I get in return?”

“My undying gratitude?”

“Okay,” Tommy nods, “What’s your plan?”

“Luckily, he hasn’t told anyone about Small Heath but if we let him go, he could tell anyone.”

“So we kill him.”

“...We do”

The man started to scream in protest at their words, moving about erratically, trying his hardest to escape from his restraints.

“Shut up!” (Y/N) shouted at the man

“I’ll get Uncle Charlie to sail down to London and dump his body there, we don't need any unnecessary attention.”

“Your Uncle Charlie would be okay with that?” (Y/N) found that hard to believe.

“No, but he’ll do it anyway.”

“So,” (Y/N) sighed, “How do we get him you wherever your Uncle Charlie is?”

“Knock him out I suppose”

“...I left my brick in the alleyway”

That caused Tommy to snigger. Their current situation wasn’t a laughable one but somehow (Y/N) had managed to make him laugh. He pushed himself up to his feet and pulled his gun out from his holster and made his way over to the frantic man.

He climbed on to the man, legs on either side of his body and then gripped the gun by its barrel before he raised his hand up and struck down with strength, hitting the man with the butt of his gun and rendering him unconscious.

The man became limp and Tommy climbed off and tucked his gun away, “That should do it”

“Alright”

Tommy hooked his arms underneath the man’s like before and started to drag him out of the building with (Y/N) leading the way to Charlie’s yard. Once they arrived, Tommy dragged the man to the edge of the dock.

“Charlie!” Tommy shouted into the night, “Uncle Charlie!”

Moments later an older man hobbled out into the yard, “Jesus Christ, Tom. The sun hasn’t even fully risen yet”

Realising how much time had passed, (Y/N) looked up at the sky and saw the sun just starting to rise and suddenly, all at once, a wave of tiredness waved over her and she was exhausted.

“I need a favour”

“What now?” Charlie grumbled

“I need him dumped in London.” Tommy kicked at the man at his feet

Charlie looked down at the body with what could almost be described as negative interest, “He’s dead then is he?”

“Just knocked out.”

“I’m not going to kill him” Charlie protested, “It’ll take four days to get London anyhow and I won’t have a dead rotting body as I go down”

Tommy was silent as he thought about what to do,

“I’ll go down but I’ll take Curly.”

Charlie nodded, “Alright, I’ll go get him.”

When he left, (Y/N) tugged Tommy to the side and placed her hands on his chest, looking up at him, “You don’t have to do this you know? This is too much for me to ask”

“Hey” Tommy took her chin in his fingers, “Don’t worry, I want to do this.”

“...Thank you” (Y/N) gripped his coat, “Come back to me”

Tommy pressed a soft kiss to her lips, “I will”

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) was on edge for the rest of the week, constantly looking over her shoulder for any suspicious men along with walking around Tommy’s office and Watery Lane for any sight of the man but she didn’t see the man until just over a week since the last time she saw him.

It was late at night when she heard a knock on the door and she scrambled to open it, knowing that it could only possibly be Tommy.

When she opened the door, she threw herself into his arms, arms tight around his neck, “You’re okay”

“Did you think I died?”

“Something like that, now come in”

As Tommy settled himself on her couch, (Y/N) makes them with a drink before she joined him,

“How did everything go?”

“Quick, easy, no need for concern”

“H-How did you do it?”

“Stuffed him full of alcohol and then pushed him overboard” Tommy filled her in

“Smart, if they find him then they’ll just assume he drunk too much and accidentally fell off a bridge or something”

“...Are you safe now?”

(Y/N) gave him a small smile, “For now. They’ll realise he’s been missing or dead soon enough and there still will be a group of people after me but for now, I am safe.”

Tommy’s hand slipped into hers, “I’ll protect you”

“You don’t need to”

“I want to”

.•° ✿ °•.

Months passed without any sort of drama from her end though the same could not be said for Tommy. He had been getting involved in all sorts of business and trouble, something that his Aunt Polly deeply disapproved with but Tommy did what Tommy did, which was whatever he wanted.

That morning, Tommy had gone to the funeral of his brother-in-law along with the rest of his family, leaving (Y/N) alone in Small Heath for the day. Tasked with setting up the pub that morning, (Y/N) made her way to the pub but the sight of two women in black pushing baby prams had stopped her in her steps and she watched as they left them by the doors before running away.

Concerned, she made her way towards the prams but before she could get too close, she was thrown back by the blast of the explosion. Her body hit the cobblestone street with a harsh whack, leaving her dazed.

Once the ringing in her ears had faded and she could open her eyes without immediately wanting to throw up, (Y/N) pushed herself up so that she was sitting up straight and watched as the Garrison burned and tears of heartbreak mixed with her tears of pain.

Soon the streets were filled with policemen and firefighters as they worked together to put out the fire and clear up the area and she watched them as she held a handkerchief that Moss gave her, to the cut on her cheek. Her heart hurt as she looked at what remained of the Garrison, the pub had meant a lot to her and seeing it being reduced to nothing stung, (Y/N) returned back to her flat, unable to take anymore.

Not long after, two cars pulled up the Garrison and the Shelby’s spilt out, Tommy and Polly leading them.

“It happened at, uh, exactly 7 a.m. Only one person saw anything. Our patrols were not in the area.” Moss informed them.

“Who saw it?” Polly asked as she looked at the building.

Moss looked at his notepad, “One of the barmaids, (Y/N). She was also caught up in the blast”

Tommy spun on his heel at the mention of (Y/N)’s name and stalked over to Moss, “What happened to her?”

Moss looked over his shoulder, “She was over there but I guess she must have gone home”

Tommy strode away from the Garrison, ignoring the shouts from Polly as he made his way towards (Y/N)’s flat. He knocked on her door before he walked in, knowing that she rarely locks it during the day.

He found her wrapped in her blankets on her bed, staring mindlessly through her window. Tommy sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her leg,

“You alright?”

(Y/N) let out a wet laugh, “Not really”

“Moss said you got hurt”

“Hmm, the blast flung me back but I’ll be fine. My body will ache and I’ll have a killer headache for a few days but I’ll be fine”

“Look at me”

(Y/N) turned to face him, slightly crawling out of her blanket cocoon and Tommy took her face in his hands, his thumb tracing just underneath her cut.

“What happened?”

“There were two women, in black and they were pushing prams and just left them by the door. I went over but they exploded before I could get too close”

“Did your upbringing not teach you to not go looking at things that are suspicious?” Tommy chided

“I thought there were actual kids in the prams and they had been abandoned”

Tommy didn’t say anything but a look of understanding overcame his face, “I guess that makes sense”

“Not one thing made sense about this place since I arrived. Not one”

“I’ll give you that” Tommy agreed with her

“What’s your plan with the Garrison then?”

“Fix it up.” Tommy sighed as he stood up, knowing that he couldn’t stay with her for any longer “I’ll give you some money until you’re able to get back to work”

(Y/N) smiled at him, “Thank you. You going?”

Tommy nodded at her, “Got business.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek before he left and it wasn’t until he was halfway to his location, did he realise that he’s never done something like that before.

.•° ✿ °•.

The reopening night of the Garrison was a big one and when stepped through the doors, she noted the stark differences with a frown tugging at her lips. The walls were gold and the curtains were red, the chandeliers were grand but it wasn’t the Garrison.

She gave pleasant smiles to those she came across as she made her way towards the back of the bar, the place where she felt the most comfortable. Arthur was also there and she could tell he was on something due to his erratic behaviour but she didn’t mention it to him, only giving him a wave as she wrapped the apron around her waist.

She was quickly swept up with taking orders and making drinks that she didn’t realise that Tommy had reached her until he placed his hand on her hip,

“What do you think aye?” He tried to speak over the loud music

(Y/N) stepped to the side to somewhere slightly quieter and pulled Tommy with her, “It’s certainly something”

Tommy frowned at her, “You don’t like it?”

(Y/N) sighed before she dragged Tommy to a room at the back so they could have complete privacy, “I don’t hate it and obviously I’m very happy to be back at work but the Garrison looks like it belongs in London rather than Small Heath”

“We’re moving up”

“You are but not everyone else in Small Heath is. Obviously, it’s too late to do anything about it now but in the future, remember you’re in Small Heath and not in London.”

Tommy moved so that there were only mere centimetres between them, “Sometimes, I forget who’s the one who grew up here and who’s the one who arrived a year ago between us”

(Y/N) grinned at him, “What can I say, the town of Small Heath is special to me”

“Want to get out of here?” Tommy asked with a raised brow

“I’m sure Arthur can handle the bar by himself” (Y/N) said as she reached for his hand, allowing him to pull her out of the pub.

.•° ✿ °•.

It wasn’t until a month after the reopening of the pub did (Y/N) realise what her fooling around with Tommy had resulted in. After she had connected the dots herself, she had made her way to Watery Lane to find the person who could confirm it for her along with giving her some solid advice.

She made her way into the house of Watery Lane first rather than entering the betting den, hoping that Polly was there instead of her office.

Tommy had told her about the betting den and his illegal business not long after the incident with the man who had followed her and she did not judge, as it would be hypocritical if she did but she understood the reasoning behind what he did for a living but she still hadn’t visited the actual den itself.

Luckily for her, Polly was in the kitchen of the house and (Y/N) slipped into the seat opposite her,

“I need your...expertise”

Polly put down her cup of tea and looked her up and down before she reached out and placed her hand on (Y/N)’s stomach before moving up to her breast, “You’re pregnant, I’d say two, maybe three months”

(Y/N) sunk back in her chair and released a huff, she didn’t know what to do.

“I’m guessing it’s Tommy's,” Polly said as she made them both a cup of tea.

“Who else's would it be?” (Y/N) scoffed.

“Do you want to keep it?” Polly asks as she sets down the two teacups on the table.

“Hmm, I think I do but I’ll have to talk to Tommy. If he doesn’t want anything to do with it, I’ll guess I’ll have to leave Small Heath,”

“Listen, I don’t know the in’s and out’s of whatever you have going on between you two but I do know my nephew. He cares about you deeply and he’s not the type of man to abandon his child.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Last I heard, Charlie’s Yard”

(Y/N) stands up with a nod, “Alright, thank you”

As she made her way to Charlie’s Yard, (Y/N) thought of how she could tell Tommy the news. There was no point dragging it out and Tommy was someone who liked to get straight to the information but she was nervous either way.

She pushed open the gates and made her way to where Charlie and Curly were, “Hello Charlie, Curly.”

Curly stuttered out a greeting and Charlie nodded at her.

“Is Tommy around? I’d heard he was here”

“You just missed him, he went to the Garrison” Charlie informed her.

(Y/N) nodded in thanks and quickly scurried away before she could hear the second sentence.

“But he’s with a woman…” Charlie finished as he watched (Y/N) run away.

(Y/N) hurried to the Garrison, annoyed that she had to run around Small Heath just to find one man and it didn’t help that the news she was carrying was heavy. Finally arriving, she called out his name as she pushed open the door,

“Tommy?! You better be here otherwise-oh” (Y/N) paused at the sight of Tommy with a woman at the bar.

“I thought you weren’t working today?”

“I’m not, I wanted to speak to you and was told I’d find you here but you’re obviously busy, so I’ll leave you alone”

Tommy nodded in understanding and just as (Y/N) was turning to leave the other woman stood forward and offered her hand,

“I’m May. May Carleton.”

(Y/N) glanced over to Tommy, taken off guard but he continued drinking his drink so (Y/N) shook May’s hand, “(Y/N). Nice to meet you”

“Just (Y/N)? No last name?”

“I don’t have one.” (Y/N) gave May one last polite smile before she left.

May stared after her for a few more moments before she turned to Tommy, “She’s not serious right? What is her last name?”

Tommy gave may a shrug, “If she has one, she hasn’t told me”

.•° ✿ °•.

“Right, what’s wrong?” Tommy asked as he stepped into her flat later that evening.

“Uhm okay, I’m just going to get it right out”

Tommy watched as she paced in front of him, whatever she had to tell him was clearly weighing heavily on her mind and he didn’t push her over getting it over and done with.

“Tommy,...I’m pregnant”

Tommy stared at her in shock. Out of all the things he guessed she would tell him, that wasn’t one of them.

“I know this isn’t what we planned or anything and I’ll completely understand if you don’t want anything to do with it but I want to keep it” (Y/N) rushed out in one breath.

“(Y/N), I don’t want you to get rid of it and I want to be involved” Tommy pulled (Y/N) into his embrace, “We’ll raise this child together. You and me.”

(Y/N) looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “Really?”

“Really. We’ll do it.”

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around Tommy tighters and cried into his shoulder and he let her, rubbing his hand up and down her back in hopes it comforted her.

“I was so scared”

“I know. It’s okay.”

They were wrapped up in each other’s embrace for a while before Tommy moved them over to the couch,

“Have you been to the doctor?” Tommy asked

“I went to Polly. Practically the same thing”

Tommy agreed, there were moments where he trusted Polly’s opinion and help over a doctors.

“What did she say?”

“Two months, maybe three”

“I know you went to Polly but I want you to go to the doctor, just to make sure”

(Y/N) nods in agreement, “I will.”

.•° ✿ °•.

One day, almost two months after (Y/N) found out she was pregnant, Tommy picked her up from her flat and took her for a drive. He wouldn’t tell her where they were going but he reassured her that she would like it.

Recently, they were at odds with each other with Tommy wanting (Y/N) to stop working entirely and (Y/N) being totally against it, so she assumed that perhaps he was trying to butter her up.

“You’re not trying to do something so that I’ll forgive you?” (Y/N) asked him.

“No, you can still be as mad as you want, I’m not going to stop you.”

“So the surprise had nothing to do with it?”

“Nope,” Tommy said as he pulled a tie out of his pocket and gave it to her, “Wrap it around your eyes”

(Y/N) did so without arguing and a minute later they pulled up to a stop and Tommy went over to the passenger side of the car to help her out. He kept his grip on her arm as he leads her forward before they stopped.

“You ready?”

(Y/N) nodded, “Yes”

“You can take off the tie”

(Y/N) gasped at what she stood in front of. It was a house, though that was being generous, it was massive and as (Y/N) looked around her in shock, she also realised that they were surrounded by copious amounts of land.

“What’s this?”

“This” Tommy walked towards her, “Is our house”

“Ours? All of it?”

Tommy grinned at her, “All it and all of this land as well. There’s also a stable round back”

“You had to make it worth your while as well, huh?” (Y/N) teased him

“Want to look inside?”

“Can we?”

Tommy offered his arm and (Y/N) took it and allowed him to lead her inside.

The interior was just as grand as the exterior and (Y/N) had fallen love with the place, it was perfect for them, yet also brought back some memories.

“You know, this reminds me of my house back home. It was bigger since it had to satisfy my father’s ego but it never felt like home, not like the way my flat does.”

“This will be different, this will be a home where our child will grow up and they won’t grow up as we did”

(Y/N) nodded reassured.

“I know you want to work for as long as you can and I know I can’t stop you but when you’re ready you can move in here”

(Y/N) was grateful that Tommy gave her space and he understood her because she knew she would go crazy just staying at the house and doing nothing whilst she was still pregnant. When the baby arrived, it would be a different story.

.•° ✿ °•.

When (Y/N) could no longer bend down to collect glasses due to her bump, she knew she had to throw in the towel and stop working. Harry had her working on the books for the most part while she occasionally did bar work but she had reached her limit with her feet swollen and her back constantly aching.

Truthfully the reason why she was having such a difficult time leaving her job was that she did not know when she would be able to return. She enjoyed working at the Garrison and interacting with the locals but once she had the child she would have to put that on pause as she raised her child. She could have a nanny but that was how she was raised and she did not like that.

She made her into Tommy’s office, pausing by Lizzie’s desk to see if he was free before entering. He didn’t look up from his papers when she entered but he did give her a greeting which she returned as she took a seat.

“I’ve decided to hang up my apron” She announces to him.

This makes Tommy look up, “Yeah?”

“I can’t reach the glasses, my ankles are swollen and I have a constant need to go toilet” (Y/N) complained, “If I knew how terrorising pregnancy would be, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant”

“Want me to call you a driver?”

“Please, I need a nap” Their bed was calling to (Y/N)

Tommy reached for the phone on his desk and called for a driver for her and as (Y/N) watched him, she realised how domesticated it was. Though in many ways, they were too, they lived together, shared a bed and (Y/N) was pregnant with their child but they weren’t in any sort of official relationship of any kind. She would have thought that Tommy would have suggested that they got married for the sake of the child but he hadn’t even brought it up.

She had thought about talking to him about it but her fears quickly overtook her whenever she built up the courage and though it frustrated her, she had more important things to worry about.

.•° ✿ °•.

Childbirth was an experience unlike any other and (Y/N) had to wonder how her mother did it five times but at the end when she held her daughter in her arms, she had never felt happier. It was, in fact, the best day of her life.

Tommy was sitting next to her on the bed, a similar smile on his face. He had never thought that he would become a parent but now that he was one, he found that all of his love was directly for one tiny human and their mother and he had something to live for. He wasn’t afraid of death but now he wouldn’t go throwing himself into situations where he could die and leave his family behind.

“What should we name her?” He asked

“I like the name Isla.”

“Isla Mary Shelby”

(Y/N) looked up at him, “Is Mary your mother’s name?”

Tommy nodded and (Y/N) smiled at him,

“I like that, it suits her. Isla Mary Shelby”

.•° ✿ °•.

Life with a newborn was hard and even though they had nannies on hand to help out, (Y/N) still had reservations on relying on them but slowly she was working towards something that worked for her.

The rest of the Shelby family were just as enamoured with Isla as her parents were and so Polly and Ada were regular visitors. (Y/N) in particular was very grateful for Polly’s presence, the woman always had the best advice and the woman would practically be the closest thing to a grandparent Isla would have.

As (Y/N) unlearned the behaviours of her own parents, so did Tommy. They did not want to become their parents and it took a lot of reassurance and from each other to make sure that they were doing the right thing, they weren't perfect but there was no such thing.

One day, when Isla was a few months old, Tommy brought up the elephant in the room; their marriage or much rather, their lack of one. They were outside, enjoying the warm weath of the summer, watching the horses in the field when he spoke up.

“One day, we’ll get married” He spoke out of the blue, linking their fingers together, “I’m not just saying that so that Isla is safe incase anything happens to me but I do love you and I do want to get married to you”

(Y/N) squeezed his hand, “Is this you proposing to me?”

“Yeah, it is”

Tommy pulled a ring box from out of his pocket and opened it and in there rested a gorgeous ring. He plucked the ring out of the box and held it out to her,

“(Y/N), will you marry me?”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled into a bright smile as she nodded, “Of course, I will.”

Tommy slipped the ring on her finger and pulled her into a kiss. (Y/N) gushed over the ring as she pulled Tommy into hug,

“I know our relationship is unconventional but I know we’re meant for each other”

“We’re good to each other,” Tommy agreed.

“I want to do it when she’s older though, so she can be the flower girl” (Y/N) says as she runs her fingers over Isla’s head, smiling at the little girl’s coos.

“A year or two then”

(Y/N) nods before she brings him into another kiss.

“What is your last name?” Tommy asks

“Does it matter? I am to be a Shelby” (Y/N) replied as she admired her ring.

“I suppose it doesn’t”

.•° ✿ °•.

Just as promised, two years later, Tommy and (Y/N) were getting married. The wedding ceremony would be taking place in a nearby church whilst the reception would be held at their house.

(Y/N) slipped her wedding dress on with the help of Polly whilst, Ada touched up her makeup.

“Nervous?” Polly asked as she did the buttons of the back of her dress

“No” (Y/N) said as she watched her daughter through the mirror, “It’s been a long time coming.”

Polly patted her shoulders, “You’re good to go.”

(Y/N) gave her one last smile before she made her way over to her daughter.

“Hi princess, you ready?” (Y/N) asked

Isla was already dressed as she sat on the floor, playing her dolls, with a cute hair clip that matched her dress.

“We see daddy?”

“Uh-huh” (Y/N) nodded, smiling when Isla jumped up and took her hand.

As she had no family to walk her down the aisle, John had stepped up and offered his arm, which she gratefully took. Isla toddled down first, throwing handfuls of petals out of her little basket down to the floor before she hurried over to wrap her arms around her father’s legs giving him a quick hug before Polly scooped her up.

Then, (Y/N) and John walked down and (Y/N) could not keep her eyes off of Tommy. He had a straight face but that did not fool her in any way, she knew he wanted the wedding as much as she did.

The ceremony sped by and before she knew it, (Y/N) was walking back down the aisle but this time her arm was in Tommy’s and their friends and family were cheering and throwing petals at them as they left the church.

They stopped at the steps as they waited for the rest of their family to join them and they took the moment to have half a second of alone time.

“I told you we should have gotten married just by ourselves with an officiant.” Tommy muttered underneath his breath.

“I don’t plan on having another wedding, do you? I want this to be a day I remember for the rest of my life” (Y/N) responded, “Now, please don’t frown, you’re worse than Isla.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at the reminder that his daughter took after him in many ways but relaxed his face as the rest of their family joined them and took their places for the picture.

.•° ✿ °•.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they would do this”

(Y/N) jumped when Tommy suddenly stormed into the room she was in, a newspaper clenched in his hands.

“Huh? What are you on about?”

Tommy gave her the newspaper before he began to angrily pace in front of her. (Y/N) looked down at the newspaper and her stomach dropped at the headline and the picture from their wedding day below it;

‘Thomas Shelby OBE MP marries wife in small wedding in Warwickshire’

“What the fuck…”

“They must have snuck in with the other photographer” Tommy theorised, “It’s a national paper”

“Oh Tommy,” (Y/N) sighed, “Is this today’s paper?”

Tommy shook his head, “Yesterday’s”

“Then it is too late” (Y/N) whimpered, “They know where I am and they’ll be here to get me”

“It’s been what, three, four years since you ran away, would they still care?”

“It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, they won’t stop until I’m back or dead. I defied them and they’ll never forgive me”

Tommy dropped to his knees in front of her, “They won’t I promise you that.”

“If this is yesterday's paper then they could be here already. It’s too late.”

“I have men here, we can take him”

(Y/N) shook her head in denial, “Not if they get my father or brothers”

“They’ll take a couple of weeks for them to get there, we can plan in that time.”

“No, Tommy” (Y/N) sounded defeated, “No offence, but your Peaky Boys have nothing on my fathers men and we’re isolated out here”

“Have you given up?” Tommy was in disbelief, “Have you given up on living? Given up on your daughter who sleeps upstairs?! That’s not who you are!”

“You don’t know them! They will kill all of us except me if we try to fight back and they will torture me with that fact. If I go to them without a fight, then you can live!”

“No. I refuse.”

“You refuse?” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh

“We go on the run. Escape to America until it’s all blown over”

“They’ll find us there and it’ll repeat until they get me”

Tommy released a frustrated sigh as he paced to the other side of the room and pour himself a large class of whiskey,

“I refuse to simply allow you to give yourself up to them. Isla needs her mother and I need my wife. You said you didn’t want to be the type of parents yours were but what you have planned, is simply no better.”

“Then what do you suggest?” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet but there was an edge to it.

“We go back to Small Heath, we gather our men and we plan.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and nodded, “We do not give up”

Tommy pulled her into a hug, “We do not”

.•° ✿ °•.

They had temporarily moved back to Small Heath and Tommy and gathered all of the family but as (Y/N) refused to let anyone get too involved or close, the brunt of the plan laid on her shoulders.

It had almost been a month and nothing had happened which meant that her family was coming or she had managed to get away with it but they were still on edge and weren’t willing to put their guards down. Tommy had Moss keep an eye out along with Alfie Solomons sending information about what was happening in London. According to him, (Y/N)’s father’s men had paid for spies across the city and that they knew they were in Birmingham.

Their intuition was right when one day they had received a call from Moss about two cars heading into Small Heath and (Y/N) knew her family had finally arrived. Not wanting to bring the confrontation to the streets of Small Heath, Tommy and (Y/N) drove to the edge and met them there but they weren’t completely alone, Tommy had gun men placed around the area which gave them a little advantage but there was no knowing what her family had planned.

If things went south and neither (Y/N) or Tommy survived then Ada was instructed to escape to America with Karl and Isla and (Y/N) could only hope that wouldn’t happen.

They stood in silence as they waited for the family to arrive but when (Y/N) spotted them, she pulled Tommy into a kiss and hug,

“I love you, never forget that.” She whispers to him.

“I won’t”

They pulled apart when the cars pulled to a stop and turned to face the men who stepped out.

An older man stepped out first, before four younger men climbed out after him. (Y/N) could not help herself as she ran her eyes over her family, looking at what had changed since she last saw them.

“Father. Brothers” She greeted as they stood to a stop opposite her and Tommy.

The youngest brother, the one closest in age to her tipped his head in greeting whilst everyone else glared at her.

“Daughter. I see you decided to make the correct decision and give yourself up.”

(Y/N) snorted and shook her head, “I have not. I will not”

“Do not be foolish sister,” Her eldest brother takes a step forward, “Don’t you realise how worried we’ve been? We’ve been searching for you for year, only to find out you’ve been here in this...shithole”

Her brother looked around in disgust as he finished his sentence.

“Drop the act. I’m not here to play games.” (Y/N) was tired already, “I’m not leaving with you, so what’s your plan?”

“You don’t have a choice. I set up a marriage between you and my closest man, you know he has spent all these years travelling across the globe looking for you? He deserves a reward”

(Y/N) pulled a face at her fathers words, “First of all, I am not a reward, I am a human being. Second, he must have not been looking very hard considering I ended up being ousted by a newspaper and thirdly, I’m already married and I don’t plan on getting married again”

Her second eldest brother snarled at her, “You’ve grown a backbone sister. We’ll have to beat it out of you”

This caused Tommy to finally step forward and cleared his throat, “I can’t let you to do that”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m her husband” Tommy gestured towards (Y/N) and she could see that he enjoyed it.

“Enough!” (Y/N)’s father stepped forward, “No more arguing, I’ll give you one last chance or we’ll take you by force”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slumped, “Why don’t you leave me alone? Go back and just forget about me”

“No one will take us seriously, if we don’t make an example out of you, then we’ll be seen as a joke.”

“I won't go and you cannot force me to and I’d much rather die than go anywhere with you”

Her father pulled out his gun and her brothers quickly followed which caused Tommy to do the same and the air was thick with tension.

“No, no, no if she wants to die then I’ll be the one to kill her.” Her father waved at her brothers and they put their guns away.

(Y/N) looked at Tommy and gave him a nod, and Tommy nodded back knowing the meaning behind the look and he put his gun away too. (Y/N) made her way to her father and when she was close enough, he reached out and pulled her towards him and jabbed his gun underneath her jaw.

“This is the end, daughter, you brought this upon yourself” Her father growled

“This is the end, but not for me”

(Y/N) pulled the gun she had been hiding in her waistband of her trousers and pressed it against her father’s chest. She didn’t even give him a moment to realise what was happening before she pulled the trigger, shooting her father in the chest.

He staggered back in shock before (Y/N) pushed him and causing him to fall backwards, landing on the floor with a thump,

“Fuck you!” (Y/N) spat in her native language.

One of her brothers came running at her and she pointed the gun at him, stopping him in her tracks, “I’ll kill you too, don’t fucking try me”

“Go back to your home and never return.” Tommy stepped forward.

(Y/N)’s brothers looked between each other before (Y/N) spoke again, “Leave. Take his body and go back. Never come back here or try to find me.”

Her eldest brother motioned for the youngest two to take the body of their father while he cursed at her,

“We’ll never forgive you and you’ll pay for your crimes in the afterworld”

“I’ll meet you there and we can pay for our crimes together”

Her brother growled her one last time before he got into the car and sped off. Once (Y/N) could no longer see them, she turned and collapsed into Tommy’s arms, a massive weight finally lifted off of her.

“You did it!” Tommy pulled away and smiled at her, “You did it, you wonderful woman”

(Y/N) let out a soft, “I did, didn’t I?”

Tommy took her gun and whistled, signalling for the men stationed around they could come down before he began to lead her towards the car,

“Want a drink?”

“Several but before that I want to see my daughter, go back to Arrow House and take a hot bath”

“Whatever you want”

.•° ✿ °•.

The shouts of children filled the gardens of Arrow House along with the chattering of adults and (Y/N) felt the last of the weight of her shoulders disappear. She had always been worried that her family would find her but now that they were truly gone, she could live without worry.

It was Isla’s third birthday and her and Tommy had decided to throw a party to celebrate it. Her and a group of local children were running around whilst the parents and other adults were sitting around enjoying the warm summer air and cool drinks.

Tommy crept up behind (Y/N) and wrapped one of his arms around her waist and gave her a kiss on her cheek, “You okay?”

(Y/N) gave him a smile and a nod, “I’m great”

“Mama!” Isla came running up to her, arms raised, “Up pwease!”

(Y/N) did as she was asked and lifted her daughter up, “What’s up princess?”

“Cake?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. What do you think, dad?” (Y/N) turned to Tommy with a smile

Isla turned to her father and put on her biggest puppy dog eyes, “Pwease dada!”

Tommy put on a show as if he was seriously debating on what to do, “Only if I get a hug from the birthday girl”

(Y/N) almost dropped Isla from how sudden she tried to get out of her arms and into her fathers but she helped her climb over and watched as she gave Tommy a tight hug with an added kiss on the cheek.

“Cake now?”

“Alright, go get your friends and we’ll go get the cake?” Tommy put her down and watched as she ran off to her friends.

“She’s growing up too fast” (Y/N) pouted as they walked inside, “In no time she’ll be spending most of her time at school”

“If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be fine” Tommy assured her.

(Y/N) sighed, “I know, but I’m still going to be sad. Now let’s get going otherwise our princess will come storming in here demanding to know what’s taking so long”

Tommy pulled (Y/N) to a stop just before they entered the kitchen and cupped her face, “I love you”

(Y/N) smiled at him, “I love you too”

#call an ambulance but not for me vibes in 'that' scene lmao #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder imagines #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #imagines #x reader #thomas shelby

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rosaliestark01 · 3 years

Text

Dusk Till Dawn - Part 8

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You play double agent while the Avengers search for you.

Warnings: more swearing than usual, angst, violence

A/N: @annies-marvel-imagines will no longer be posting more parts, but she will still receive credit.

You paced around Ezekiel's secret hideout and realized several things. The first thing is that there was no way that these two individuals managed to get their hands on such high-level tech by themselves. The second was that Ezekiel obviously lied about being your dad. The third was that Ezekiel most definitely had enough money to get a less crappy apartment. The fourth and most crucial thing you realized was that you'd have to play along with their plan longer than you wanted to.

Judging by the number of meals you've gotten, you'd guess you've been there for three days. It was hard to pretend that you wanted to wipe out the Avengers, but you had to remind yourself that this was just another mission. Except, you didn't have your suit or any means of contacting your team. Plus, the Avengers had no idea where you were, what you were doing, or what you were trying to do. You were on your own.

"Don't just stand there, you spoiled brat. Help us out," Eloise yelled at you.

Another thing that made it hard to act like you were on their side was the constant feeling of wanting to strange Eloise every time she opened her mouth. She honestly reminded you of a penny. Two-faced and not worth much.

"What the hell is this thing?" you ask as you approach the strange metal box that Eloise and Ezekiel had struggled to get out of Ezekiel's truck.

"You like it?" he asks, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. Was this guy serious?

"Did your ears suddenly stop working, or are you just that bad at listening to someone else's shit for once?" You say without thinking. The strange looks from them tell you that it was the wrong thing to say, so you backtrack. "Sorry, I'm still a little nervous about all this."

"It's fine," Ezekiel mutters, coughing awkwardly before becoming grave. "As long as you do your job, you have nothing to worry about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You ask, suddenly becoming defensive.

"This is your new suit." Eloise snarks, clearly trying to get everyone's attention back onto the metal box. She pressed a button, causing it to open.

Inside was a suit that looked similar to your dad's iron suit, but instead of red and gold, it was black and purple.

"Why does it look like that?" You ask. Why would they base the suit off of Iron Man's suit if they hate his guts?

"We figured you'd like an upgrade," Ezekiel beamed proudly. You're assuming that he was the one who built it, but you weren't ready to jump to conclusions. The guy already had trouble figuring out how to open the microwave. "Your old suit seemed..."

"weak," Eloise rolled her eyes as she finished his sentence.

"It was flexible and bulletproof," you defended. The suit you always wore worked well for years. Who do these people think they are? "I made it with my d- with Tony Stark."

"That explains a lot." She crosses her arms as she stares down at you with a judgmental glare. "Trust me. If you're going up against the Avengers, you're going to want to wear this. It'll protect you better than that flimsy piece of shit you always wore before."

"Fine," you mumbled, remembering that it is in your best interest to pretend that you agree with them.

--------------------

Peter felt like he was drowning.

He'd never gone this long without knowing if you were okay or not, and it was killing him. Without you, his Peter-Tingle, or Spidey-Senses as you called it, felt like a timer he couldn't shut off. He wasn't sure if it had to do with the fact that he was worried out of his mind or if it meant that you were in danger. Maybe both?

What was worse was that he had to pretend everything was okay. Happy was in the hospital, you were missing, and the Avengers were moving heaven and Earth to find you, but he couldn't join them. May and the Avengers insisted that he let the "adults" handle this. Did it ever occur to them that you matter to him just as much, if not more?

"Hey, Pete?" Ned and the rest of your friends approached him hesitantly. They all worried about you, but they knew that it was harder on him. "Is there any update on Y/N?"

"Not yet." Peter would have known if there was even a slight update. "Have any of you heard anything?"

"Gwen feels guilty about what happened at homecoming," Harley states ."She says that if she hadn't spilled her drink on Y/N, she never would have left the gym."

They all look to where Gwen was standing with her friends. She didn't look happy. In fact, she looked like she hadn't slept since word got out that you were missing.

"She should feel guilty." Peter huffs, "If she got over her damn pettiness long enough to realize that I love Y/N, I never would have lost her."

"Still... she said she'd back off," Harry says, feeling uncomfortable with the current subject. There is no excuse for what Gwen did, but she did look like she had learned her lesson.

"We want to help," Betty admitted, causing a bit of hope to fill Peter's mind. So far, all he's heard was "let the adults handle this". Knowing that his friends want to help find you was like a breath of fresh air.

"Yeah. It doesn't feel right to sit back and do nothing when Y/N is who knows where," Harry sighs, patting Peter on the back.

"Thanks, guys," Peter replies, smiling for the first time since you've disappeared. "That means-"

Before he could finish, he turned around, and not a second later, an explosion went off right across from the school.

"What the f-"

----------------

"I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that you never told us that Y/N was adopted," Clint says as he paces back and forth in the compound. He didn't have the slightest idea that anything was going on until he received a call telling him that you were missing and that help was needed tracking you down.

"He had his reasons; now are you going to focus more on that or finding Y/N?" Pepper replied, defending Tony. Although she agrees that Tony should have told you, she knows that he had his reasons.

"Maybe she doesn't want to be found?" Clint asks, although the second it came out of his mouth, he knew it sounded stupid.

"No," Steve says, his arms crossed in concentration. "I've known Y/N for a long time, and she's a good kid. She's going through stuff right now, but she'd never run away or leave Happy alone while he's in the hospital. Something else is going on, and I'd bet it had to do with those two."

The TV displayed everything they knew so far. The two likely suspects were none other than Eloise Day and Ezekiel Stane. Security footage showed you getting into Eloise's car, which was later found outside a shambly apartment building. After further inspection, your phone was found inside of the apartment belonging to Ezekiel Stane.

"Agreed". Tony stared at the screen, trying to figure out if there is anything he's missing. He knows that Ezekiel is the son of his old business partner. Tony knows that Eloise was a new student who gained your trust. What he didn't realize was their connection and what their goal is.

"If-When we find her, you need to tell her the truth," Steve tells him.

"Yeah, we'll go out for cheeseburgers and laugh about it. Am I right?" Tony snaps. It was clear that he knew who your real father is and that you might already know him too. "I- I don't want her to hate me when I tell her."

"Trust me. Y/N will understand if your heart was in the right place," Steve encourages, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. For a second, Tony's shoulders slump before his resold seems to harden.

"Her real dad is-"

"I think you'll be able to tell her yourself," Nat speaks urgently. "Y/N's been spotted in Queens."

"Let's suit up."

-------------------

You couldn't help but feel as though your plan was about to fail. Eloise and Ezekiel have recently kept a closer eye on you than usual, which isn't good. You have a feeling that they're on to you, which means that you might have to improvise.

"Play along," Ezekiel mutters in your ear before roughly grabbing your arm. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eloise pointing some blaster at you that looks too much like the one that Hydra dude shot you with.

Before you can ask what he was doing, a familiar figure swung in front of you.

"Let her go," Peter demands. Although you cannot see his face, you can tell he's angry. You felt bad for putting him through this, but in the long run, you'll have to put him through it a little longer.

"Fat chance, you spider freak!" Eloise roars, suddenly pointing the blaster at Peter.

"Wait-" You yell, but your voice is drowned out by Ezekiel's yells as Eloise pulls the trigger.

It was like everything was happening in slow motion. You wanted to scream for Peter, but the shot never made it to its target. Instead, it met with a familiar red, white, and blue shield.

"Whatever happened to my signal?!" Ezekiel yelled at Eloise, who rolled her eyes for the one-hundred-millionth time that day.

"I'm not letting you crap on my chance again, old man!" She barks at him as she continues firing the blaster. By now, all of the Avengers seem to have shown up, and her target was everyone.

"Don't you d-" He yells, but she ignores him.

Cursing, he tries to pull you away from the fight as he tries to think of a new plan. You already knew what needed to happen, but you weren't sure if you were ready to see everyone's faces when you are forced to betray them.

"So is this a thing now? Kidnapping my daughter for revenge or something?" your dad asks as he lands in front of you and Ezekiel, ready to fight.

"Who said I kidnapped her?" Ezekiel smirks. You wanted to wipe the arrogance off his face, but you couldn't. You had a job to do.

"Dammit," You curse. You press the button on your bracelet that morphed into your "new" suit. You didn't want to see the looks everyone will give you, so as you took down the people you call your family, you couldn't look them in the eye.

TAG LIST:

@eridanuswave @perspectiveparker @spidey-reids-2003 @ilovespideyyy @purplekitten30 @slytherinambitious @starryeddie @grapesauze @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @thegayseance @whiskeywinter89

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader insert #tom holland peter parker #avengers #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x stark!daughter #tony stark x daughter reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #avengers x y/n #dad!iron man x avenger!reader #(Y/N)s dad is...#peter parker x stark!reader #spider man x y/n #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman x avenger!reader #spider man x reader

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tiffdawg · 3 years

Text

Some Kind of Magic | A Frankie Morales x Reader Story

Part Three of the Summer Sunlight Series

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 1.1k

Rating: T | Warnings: family fluff, allusions to baby making.

Request: @b0n-chann requested 68 (you didn’t have to ask) and 80 (is your seatbelt on?) from this list with Frankie for the 500 Celebration. Thank you for the request my love!

A/N: I was hoping to have something more substantial to share this weekend but apparently all I have in me is some super soft Frankie fluff. This is from a request for my 500 follower celebration eight months ago... which took an embarrassingly long time to fulfill. It follows One Summer Night and Golden Hour which you can find on my masterlist.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

... . ...

Some Kind of Magic

Beams of golden sunlight broke through the canopy of leaves to light the forest floor. With bubbling laughter, your precocious daughter danced between them, always careful not to disturb the seedlings along the trail. Despite the uphill hike to the river where you’d enjoyed a picnic lunch earlier that afternoon, she was as energetic as ever. Of course, her father had carried her on his back most of the trek up. The man was defenseless against her pouty lips and big brown eyes that matched his own.

As you glanced over at Frankie, you found a dreamy smile on his handsome face as he watched Celia play. In a silent gesture meant to convey that you felt the exact same way, you squeezed his hand, still firmly clasped in yours even after miles of walking.

“That little girl is magic,” he said quietly before turning to you with a soft look, “just like you.”

“I think she takes after you,” you countered. Frankie pulled you closer and pressed a quick kiss to your smile.

“She’s the best of both of us,” he reasoned. There was a mischievous spark in his eyes when he added, “we made a good kid.”

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed enthusiastically. You’d loved Frankie before you’d ever so much as kissed him. In the last decade following that first kiss one summer long ago, your relationship proved steady and sturdy and full of love. You made a good team as partners and as parents. It was no wonder you had such a great kid.

Ahead of you, Celia’s curiosity got the better of her and she knelt to inspect something on the trail. Bear, the fluffy Burmese Mountain Dog you and Celia had found at a shelter and surprised Frankie with a few months ago on his birthday, stopped beside her. The dog was never far behind her as he was the little girl’s best friend and fiercest protector. A moment later, the two came sprinting back toward you.

“¡Papá, mira!” she called to Frankie as she jumped into his outstretched arms. He groaned as he hoisted her up so that her weight rested on his hip. The four-year-old seemed to grow every day right before your eyes and you had a hard time believing she wasn’t a baby anymore.

“What did you find?” he asked.

With a toothy grin, she proudly showed him the heart-shaped rock sitting in the palm of her hand. “It’s for you.”

“I’ll keep it forever,” Frankie promised as he smiled lovingly at his daughter. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, and you knew it was a matter of moments before she’d finally fall fast asleep. Judging by the way Frankie held her, you also knew he wouldn’t mind carrying her the rest of the way. With as quickly as time passed and as fast as she seemed to grow, it wouldn’t be long until he’d be unable to hold her like that. It was a bittersweet thought. One that made your heart ache with premature nostalgia and reminded you to enjoy every moment the three of you had together.

And the sight of Frankie and your daughter bathed in the light of late afternoon was nothing short of a perfect moment. It was almost too good to be true but something so wonderfully real.

… . …

After loading up the back of your crossover – a family car Frankie insisted you have the moment you mentioned the idea of trading in your old sedan shortly after you found out that you were pregnant – you helped Bear inside and climbed in the driver’s seat. As you belted yourself in, you caught sight of Frankie setting your sleeping daughter carefully into her new booster seat. You paused for a moment just to watch because as mundane as it might’ve seemed to anyone else, it was a sight that always melted your heart.

“There you go little lady,” he said quietly.

Not even half awake, Celia responded with a mumbled “I love you, papá.”

“I love you too, mija,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Ever the worried father, almost as soon as he was settled in the passenger seat, Frankie turned and double checked her seatbelt. He also spared a quick glance at the dog, also securely belted and already fast asleep with his head in Celia’s lap. And then his eyes found yours. “Is your seatbelt on?” he asked like always.

“Yes, Francisco,” you answered with a smile and a playful roll of your eyes. “You don’t have to ask.”

“Of course I do,” he muttered, looking slightly offended. “Gotta keep my family safe.”

It was a familiar sentiment, but it warmed your heart all the same. So, after you shifted the gear into drive, you rested your hand on top of his, your fingers slotting together perfectly. As you headed west toward the sunset, you smiled to yourself as you felt the cool metal of his wedding band against your skin.

It was a quiet journey down the mountainside with only the intermittent static of the radio, still out of range, between songs and Bear’s soft snores breaking the silence. When you stopped at the first intersection in miles, Frankie turned to you with that shy grin you loved so much. “This might’ve been my favorite anniversary yet.”

“You say that every year,” you teased.

“And each year is better than the last,” he replied emphatically, his brows raising above his wide eyes.

“I know,” you sighed happily. “Can you believe we’ve been married five years already?”

His only response was to lean over the center console and kiss you soundly. A kiss you returned with equal fervor. “I love you even more than I did five years ago,” he said with astonishment lacing his voice when you finally parted. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I know what you mean,” you said as you scratched at his scruff on his cheek. You noted a few new gray spots fondly. “I love you too.”

““So,” he started carefully. You followed his gaze back to Celia. “How about one more?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to ponder the question the two of you had been debating for months. “Our family hike might be over, but the anniversary celebrations don’t have to end just yet. How about we start tonight?”

His eyes darkened as he grinned wolfishly at you. “I can’t fucking wait.”

“That’s a dollar!” Celia called from the backseat.

“I thought you were sleeping!” Frankie feigned exasperation with an exaggerated sigh. Celia’s amused giggles were absolutely infectious.

... . ...

Thank you so much for reading!

... . ...

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @honeyand-roses @mxsamwilson @themilkface @mylifeliterally @mskitty79 @rosiefridayrogersunday @perropascal @giselatropicana @roxypeanut @divineangelix @sarahjkl82-blog @kylerr @aerolanya @artsymaddie @linkpk88 @antisocialshipper @toastytaurus @321-lets-go @kesskirata @gredandfeorgesgirl @lou-la-lou @helga1031 @ktmadden86 @lesbianlena @mtjoi @pedropascaldice @swimmingsloths @lovelyasfcuk @technicallykawaiisoul @cinewhore @ali-cide @reidocognito @metaphorical-love-for-a-car @iamskyereads @magpie-to-the-morning @stardust-galaxies @melaniermblt @jenrebloggingfics @gondowan

Frankie Morales Tags: @thewayofthemandalorian @frogllady @northernpunk @coni-martina @harrys-stan @captainjaspenor @bees-fart-too @kesskirata @stardust-fray @lazybeeches @the-horny-virgin @spideysimpossiblegirl @triggerhappyflygirl @michaelgaryscottismydad @valeecruz16 @stardust-fray @lazybeeches @leonieb @fvriosa @fireproofmarta

#fic: some kind of magic #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier

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haljordangreenjedi · 3 years

Note

okay so somebody asked me to rank the green lanterns a couple days ago and i just did it based on the general Vibes i got off each one because i don't know enough about the lanterns and now i want to hear from an expert SO: RANK EACH OF THE GREEN LANTERNS (the human ones but if you want to include others go crazy) FROM NOT-SO-BEST TO BEST AND EXPLAIN WHY

OKAY SO, first off, i love you. you should know that. second off, there’s good and bad sides to all four human green lanterns and really this is just personal preference, and 3/4 of these are subject to change at some point, but this is where we stand as of right now:

4. Guy Gardner

first off, he was Hal’s case worker in Emerald Dawn II (1991), because Hal got in trouble for drunk driving and got sentenced to a maximum security prison for 90 days to be used as an example. And I just, I don’t like this plot in Hal’s life, it doesn’t make a ton of sense with his character or his profession (it would literally end a pilot’s career.) anyway, enough about Hal Jordan because I’m supposed to be talking about Guy here. Guy’s trying to help Hal out which, gets him points in my book, but he also ends up like hating Hal at the end of this arc and it’s just like, I’m sorry, that’s unoriginal, pls try harder.

I also don’t understand this whole Vuldarian DNA plot that’s a thing with him, but his time owning a bar is cool. I just, I haven’t read a ton of his comics and i haven’t gotten attached to him yet, so that’s that. He’s in 4th, sorry Guy. Better luck next time.

3. Kyle Rayner

Kyle gets third place for two reasons: he has some pretty great interactions with Hal, with some key points of believing in Hal when he needs it the most (and that panel with the stacked rings and Hal taking Kyle flying. That panel gives me life for reasons I can’t fully put into words.), and his girlfriend was literally murdered and stuffed into a fridge. I have to respect the trauma.

Reasons I don’t like Kyle: you know how in middle school there was always that kid who would show off in gym class? or like your favorite teacher would pick some new kid to champion and you just kinda... hated them on instinct? Kyle’s an artist, but he has that vibe. He’s the kid in school that suddenly everyone has decided is the Best and it’s annoying. I get it, he’s meant to be like the “best green lantern,” the one to restore the corps when Hal and Parallax tore through it and then he’s a white lantern. I just... idk, he’s nice, he’s cute. I want to read more about when he was teamed up with Jason and some people have made it so that Hal has become his bother father figure which is also adorable, it’s just instinct to not make him my favorite. I’ve already done the whole phase of liking the ‘Chosen One,’ I don’t need to go back to my Harry Potter phase. idk, please universe don’t hate me for this.

2. John Stewart

okay, I have mad respect for John Stewart. It’s also instinctual. He’s the brains of the human Green Lantern operation. No, like, literally. If the four of them have one collective brain cell, John has it at least 89% of the time. He’s an architect and a former Marine, he punched Hal in the face in a bar before they were both Green Lanterns, which is hilarious because as far as I’m aware, it’s never touched on as being something either of them remembers. Kudos for not holding onto that rage, John. Hal has something to learn from you.

There’s also an interesting change in his way of thinking from when he was a Marine to his duty as a Green Lantern, and I like that growth even if it’s not always acknowledged. There is a bit during the Color Spectrum War arc where they go over his guilt at the destruction of a world, and it felt remarkably deep for a DC comic, even if it was technically part of a Hal series. He’s just one of those guys that you can’t help but respect because he seems to have all of his shit in one basket, and it’s a good counterbalance.

1. Hal Jordan

you knew this was coming. if you didn’t, then you need to go look back at what my username is and think for a while. I love Hal Jordan almost more than life itself and it might be because of how well i can relate to this man. he is the most cocky, depressed, stubborn piece of shit in the galaxy, and I LOVE HIM. okay, like, there are so many different arcs about Hal and I know people have a tendency to not like him because like he’s the modern OG and he can be a piece of shit, and like, he was the bad guy but he came back from it and I just want to say: my dudes, that’s the POINT.

Hal has flat out stated that HE doesn’t even like himself, and you think that you as a reader are supposed to like him all the time? The man's life is rife with trauma, okay. Not everything he does is going to make perfect sense if you’re not paying attention and it’s just like. Honestly I can’t explain it all. Hal runs on spite and coffee and the list of people he lives FOR is very short, but the list of people he lives IN SPITE OF is very long.

The dude runs with his gut constantly because that’s what keeps him alive. Even Sinestro has pointed out that HAL DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. He acts on instinct, he doesn’t plan out a shitload of battle strategies, and that’s how Hal manages to keep besting these people over and over.

Also just, he’s sad boy. He wants to protect people, even if it means staying away from them. He’s willing to take the blame and appear to go rogue MULTIPLE TIMES for things he believes in and to find the root of the problem and it’s just like... you really think a guy that was happy-go-lucky and didn’t sit awake at night because of how prominent his failings are in his mind would be willing to do that? you’re wrong. sorry. you don’t designate yourself as public enemy number one AFTER ALREADY FIGHTING TO COME BACK FROM THAT ONCE if you don’t have a part of your brain saying you deserve it.

ALSO HIS GRIEF FOR COAST CITY WAS JUSTIFIED AND THERES A LONG LIST OF PEOPLE THAT COULD HAVE HELPED PREVENT HAL FROM BECOMING/SUCCUMBING TO PARALLAX AND A LOT OF THEM ARE ON THE JUSTICE LEAGUE OR TINY ANCIENT BLUE SMURFS.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK, GOODNIGHT.

(also i’m not sure if my answers were coherent towards the end but yeah!! send me asks about green lanterns because I have a lot of feelings. Anyway; Hal Jordan.)

#tag: katie answers things.... sometimes #green lantern #tag: kyle rayner is a green lantern #tag: john stewart is the brains of the operation #tag: hal jordan is my emotional support green lantern #tag: guy gardner is the warrior #tag: green lanterns light #this took me over an hour to write and i have a headache so yall better enjoy this #i tried to keep it short and sweet but i got to hal and that went out the window oopsie

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

First year: Dorms

[Master List] Requests are open! [Purple Magic Masterlist]

This is a BTS Harry Potter au.

As jungkook is sorted into ravenclaw by himself I put Army (Ami) with him. I hope you all enjoy.

Kim Seokjin followed the head of house to the Gryffindor common room, making sure to act like his usual confident self. Jin was in awe of the fat lady but he didn’t let that distract him from winking and blowing a kiss to the portrait who giggled maniacly her face red. The common room was quite bright and the windows in the Gryffindor tower allowed him to admire the view.

Jin was obviously nervous about who he would be rooming with. What if he hated them? What if they hated him? Johnny, DK, Wooyoung, Namjoon and himself. Seokjin thought they all seemed like great guys and he wasn’t about to complain. He was happy when Kim Namjoon asked to take the bed beside him and the two spent their first night talking and laughing with one another.

He was more confident knowing that there was someone he felt like he could really be friends with.

Trudging to the dungeons Yoongi let out a shiver, squinting in the dark. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, this seemed really dodgy. The other students said he looked mean and that's why he was in slytherin. He hoped this wasn’t the punishment for being in Slytherin. The doors opened to the common room and Yoongi felt the warmth wash over him.

Outside the windows he saw a huge squid swimming past, he looked concerned and a hand softly grasped his shoulder. “It’s two to a room in Slytherin, would you like to share a room with me?” Yoongi looked at the young boy and nodded. He had no problem who he was sharing a room with but this kid seemed to know a lot and seemed harmless compared to a few of his classmates.

The room was dark, the beds were soft, and just outside the window were soft underwater sounds. It was no surprise that Yoongi fell asleep so quickly. It was quite possibly the best sleep he had ever had.

Hoseok and Taehyung hadn’t stopped talking the whole way to the common room, they had made friends quickly with some of the other boys. Mingi, Hoshi, Jooheon, and Jungwoo were all goofy and sweet. They passed by a portrait of fruit which Hobi pointed out was the entrance to the kitchens before they hit a dead end with barrels.

“What is going on?” Taehyung asked and Hoseok smiled, his father was a bit of a know-it-all and so he was privy to a lot of the Hogwarts secrets.

“The entrance is through the barrels” Hoseok grinned watching the others sliding into the barrels and stepped forward. It was an elaborate slide that had him whooping as he landed in a pile of soft mustard cushions. Crawling away from the shoot before he could be squished by the next person entering.

Taehyung was next and he helped catch his newest friend and the two giggled as the rest of their group landed in the round and cheery common room.

Namjoon was nervous, he wondered if his new friend Seokjin noticed him trip up the stairs or fall out of bed in the middle of the night. He hoped he wasn’t mad when he spilt ink on the floor that morning. He had been writing to his parents letting his father know he didn’t get into Ravenclaw and wishing he could still make him proud.

Seokjin seemed like a really nice friend, making light of Namjoon’s mistakes. Helping him when his tie got tangled and catching him when he tripped on his robes. It was nice that he had someone to look out for him but it was not overbearing. Namjoon was quick to write down Seokjin’s birthday in his notebook and started listening intently to what he liked and disliked.

He was going to be an exceptional friend and he wouldn’t let Seokjin down.

Jimin woke the next morning to see his roommate still fast asleep. He wondered if he was a nice guy. He didn’t know anything about him but he seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t like to cause a scene. Drama was something Jimin found on his own, he didn’t think he could handle any more.

Thinking he would be nice he dressed early, styling his hair perfectly and heading to the great hall to secure some breakfast. He grabbed a few things and headed back to the common room and opened the door to the dorm.

Yoongi was still sleeping soundly, Jimin walked over giving his roommate a small shake, calling his name softly. “Yoongi, Yoongi, it’s time to get up and get ready for class, I brought us breakfast”

Yoongi’s pale and thin arm swiped at Jimin and he ducked expertly, giggling at the lazy attack. “Come on, up you get or I will leave you behind.”

The man got up swearing and ate with a grumpy expression, “sorry for being rude, I am not a morning person, it’s probably easier if you ignore me and go to class”

“Not a chance.” Jimin chuckled.

Taehyung woke the next morning to a bright and bubbly Hoseok giggling with some of the other boys. The dorm room was full of bunk beds. Hoseok had given him the top bunk willingly and that meant he was a really good friend. The two dressed quickly and set out to the great hall leaving the others in the dorm to slowly wake and get dressed. Happily eating and talking about their new class and how they liked the dorm, Taehyung thanked Hoseok again.

“I didn’t know about magic before I got my letter, so my family were worried that people would make fun of me, but you have all been really nice.” Taehyung blushed

“Oh, Taehyungie,” Hoseok said, his bright smile never faltering.

Jungkook was nervous, in the ravenclaw dorm he didn’t really feel comfortable with his roommates, he sat on his bed while they all talked about how excited they were to learn magic. There was a knock on the door and the girl poked her head into the room. Immediately recognizing her as Ami from the sorting ceremony.

All he remembered after he was sorted was how pretty she was and how she smelled like freshly washed cotton sheets drying on a summer's day. It had been distracting but she seemed to be looking for something. “Has anyone seen my cat? She is a little munchkin with very small legs and orange fur.”

“I can help you look,” Jungkook said, happy to leave the awkwardness of conversing with new people. At least he didn’t have to talk while looking for a cat, maybe if it took long enough they would all be asleep by the time he returned.

Ami was nervously biting her thumb. Her sweater was oversized and lumpy but looked so soft, they were looking for about ten minutes when they heard the tiny meow from on top of the bookshelf. “You silly cat, you jumped up there and you got yourself stuck.”

Jungkook reached up and smiled, placing the small cat in your arms. “Say thank you to Kookie for saving you,” the cat meowed, making you both laugh.

“You are welcome.” Jungkook smiled patting the small cat, “You were easy to talk to.”

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januarywren · 3 years

Note

Hello I hope you don’t mind but can you please write a snamione domestic fluff where they have triplets? Love your stories a lot. ❤️❤️

Done!

I expanded the Severus/Hermione story that I posted last week, ‘Without Her,’ that focused on them falling in love after the war.

I’ll post the second chapter down below, I hope that you enjoy it! ‘Without Her’ is more hurt/comfort than fluff, but I thought your request fit well with the story. Thank you for trusting me with your idea!

He blinked once.

Twice.

And again, as he realized what his witch meant.

Children...

He’d never imagined they were a possibility, let alone something he wished for. “Truly?” Severus asked, tautly swallowing. He could never imagine her being so cruel, yet he felt uncertainty creep beneath his skin still.

Memories of the Marauders haunted him still, with childish jeers ringing in his ears. There were the bitter remnants of his father too, every cruel word and look one that Severus couldn’t forget. His cheek ticked, a gesture that he had never learned to control.

“Would I lie to you, Severus?” Hermione asked, her lips curling upward into a knowing smile. She'd suspected her pregnant state for weeks before visiting a muggle doctor in London and had waited for just the right moment to tell her lover...they would not have one child but three.

Three!

It was more than Hermione had ever considered, given how she was an only child. Severus was the same raised without any siblings and neither of them had ever wished for one. Was it natural then, that she’d only imagined them having one? Or none, given how their nights were spent enamored with one another.

Hermione had tucked the sonogram into her battered copy of Hogwarts: A History, one of the few surviving mementos from her childhood. She had wondered at surprising Severus, perhaps with a balloon or stuffed teddy bear, but decided against the idea. She knew that he valued her words more than her actions, for she was one of the few who meant them. So she whispered the news to him, as she lay reading and he rested his head in her lap, as the world outside their door was bathed in thunder and bitter downpour.

“You’re the only one who never would,” he admitted, swallowing tautly. He was on his knees before her, his head resting in her lap, yet he felt as if he were her equal.

Perhaps he was.

“Never,” she echoed, before threading her fingers through his dark hair. He hummed in pleasure as she wound locks around her fingers, before letting them free, once more.

Time had no meaning then, the grandfather clock that stood in the corner of their room not making a sound. Even Crookshanks was quiet as he curled in his woven basket, with his tail covering his nose.

The rest of their home was a buzz of quiet activity, as they’d found themselves welcoming a handful of House-Elves that had lost their families during the War. They tended to the small flat, the same as they would a sprawling manor, though they never disturbed the couple’s bedroom.

(Only Crookshanks held that honor, to the House-Elves displeasure.)

A flat full of books and abandoned House-Elves and a stubborn familiar was nothing like the future that Severus had imagined. As a child, he'd dreamed of little more than escaping his father, soon pinning his dreams on Lily Evans. He was blinded by obsession as he spent years at Hogwarts, everything he did meant to hold Lily's attention.

The obsession had followed him as he became an embittered man, one that hadn’t lived until he found his way to the woman he served then. Hermione held his very heart in her small hands, an arrangement that he had no wish to deviate from.

He found his belonging with Hermione, the only woman whose shadow he would remain in. His relationship with her was nothing like he’d expected, instead, being everything, he needed. He found it was natural for him to obey, as it was far from her way to force him to give a piece of himself away. She wanted him, and only him, without forcing him to perfect a game of charades.

It was a lesson that Riddle had never learned, nor Dumbledore, for all of his sugar-coated words and knowing gaze. There was no falsity with Hermione, only praise.

And when they did row, it was followed with scenes of passionate devotion, as Severus worshipped between her legs. His greed for her was unrestrained, as he delved his tongue into her dripping cunt, and he made her scream his name. It made him feel alive in a thousand different ways, and he made a strangled sound of amusement, as he realized their last session had led to his witch’s current state.

They had argued for days about her interest in visiting a certain dragon sanctuary in Romania, with Severus dead set against her going. The security risks kept him awake at night, as he knew the goblins had never forgotten the release of their former dragon and their desire for another one. Who was to say they wouldn't try to take another one?

Hermione had only so much influence with them, and Severus doubted she could keep them from coveting another dragon. Greed was as natural as breathing to the goblins, perhaps, even more so. There was little right or wrong to the goblins, their views far from black and white.

Hermione had adamantly refused to listen until she refused the invite at the last possible moment, after which they ignored each other for days – until Severus had awoken his witch with slow, lingering kisses and touches that swept her hurt feelings away. He took no delight in hurting her, content with how she clung to him, his touch leaving love marks behind.

Neither had given thought to cast a preventative spell then, their preferred method of birth control in place of the potion, or muggle birth control. They had never discussed having children, though Severus knew his witch wasn't averse to the idea. Hermione's sudden friendship with the goblins wasn't entirely a secret, as Luna and Neville maintained a relationship with them as well. They were friends of Hermione's more than Harry or Ron were, and she was delighted when they announced their pregnancy.

He’d never forgotten her soft, joyful expression when she was named godmother to Luna and Neville’s daughter, Aurora; the sight taking his breath away, for reasons that he never imagined he would voice, let alone consider.

The horror of his childhood kept him from imagining a family with anyone, even Lily. His family line would die with him, as he had no wish to see a child with his father’s features, nor his hooked nose. Yet, he’d found himself enjoying the time they spent with Aurora, as he often listened to Hermione read aloud to her, and Crookshanks. It was a warm, childish scene, the likes of which had never existed in his childhood.

If he were a lesser man, he would deny his envy, one that had long ago rooted into his soul. His childhood was filled with nothing he wished to look back at, nor repeat with his children. There was only coldness there, one that stung his cheeks and tore at his soul; making him recoil from thoughts about turning into his father, or allowing abuse to occur, as his mother had. His children would never know the mistakes of his parents, grandparents they would never meet, nor know of.

Severus was silent as his hand found Hermione’s, his fingers gently squeezing hers. He said nothing about her parents, away in Australia with no memory of their only child. They all had to make sacrifices during the war, yet Severus loathed that he couldn’t make the matter right for her.

All he could do – all they could do – was ensure that her parents had a plentiful bank account and a small condo that was thoroughly warded against any magical visitor. Her parents remembered nothing of their old lives, and the world they had known. Hermione kept two things from them: a suit jacket that belonged to her father, with a missing button and a tear in the collar and her mother’s china tea set.

There was nothing more that she needed, his witch said, and that was the end of the matter.

“We’re going to be parents,” Hermione whispered, her voice cracking at the end. It seemed utterly real then, though she had yet to physically show. It was only when she missed her course that she thought to see the doctor, along with how sensitive she’d become, “Can you imagine, love?”

“I’m afraid so,” Severus replied, a hint of dry humor tangled around each and every word.

He could easily imagine her with a child on her hip, the picture too vivid and bright. It was one that men like him were never supposed to grasp – he was meant to be alone, and embittered with redemption held away from his hands.

Yet still, he wanted it, more so than anything before. He wanted her.

He wanted a future with his witch and their children, with books and half-kneazles forever underfoot.

#harry potter #hp #sevmione #severus snape #hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #postwar au #hurt/comfort #tw: pregnancy #snamione #sevmione fic #snamione fic #snape #severus snape x hermione #thank you for the request!#ss/hg #archive of our own #ao3

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 3 years

Text

Illicit affairs -Chapter 1

summary: harry osborn is a flirt and justin hammer is a jackass. y/n tells peter that he is an idiot, again. & black cat wants to know what night are they talking about.

Listen to: Maniac -Conan Grey & my tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

word count: 7.5k

(author’s note at the end now)

series masterlist

(the gif is so funny out of context but like literally)

You’d never been to the OSCORP tower before. You had met Norman and Harry when you still lived in Malibu and they lived in Silicon Valley, they had attended a couple of galas that had become mandatory for you to go in order represent the Stark’s family name but other than that, there hadn’t been much interaction.

Especially since Tony and Norman never got along; they had run in the same circle since the ’90s and they had vastly different ideas on what was important. For one, Tony loved what he did and he was passionate about any advancement he could make, but Norman was downright miserable with a sickly ambition. Moreover, he dived into extreme genetic projects that could be dangerous if mixed with business, so as soon as Norman suggested something to Tony and he shut him down, leaving a bitter taste on Norman’s mouth.

You wove your way through the reception that was daunting with a set of intricate security, more than what you had actually expected. Now you knew what Tony had meant with Norman being paranoid. You passed the multiple security stations and smiled when no machine or security guard noticed the mass amount of energy you were carrying on your necklace, where your suit was contained. You had been working for months when you first got to Europe so you could carry it undetected, it had failed a couple of times and so, it had forced you to work out even harder, in case you couldn’t use your suit.

You finished passing through the security detail and manage to made your way to the receptionist, who seemed to be rather annoyed with the sheer amount of calls he was receiving.

“Hi, sorry to bother you”, you smiled, looking down at him but he didn’t even raise his head, you stopped talking but then he motioned his hand for you to continue. “Okay…I’m here to see Mr. Osborn, we have an appointment”

“Your name?”, the receptionist asked, still not looking at you which made your eye twitch in annoyance.

“Y/N Stark”, you answered, the receptionist snorted, and then he raised his head. He went pale when he realized it was you, you smiled in return as he pulled off his headset and smiled at you.

“Mr. Osborn has been waiting for you”, he said as he quickly motioned a security guard to come to the desk and placed his headset on his head again. “Also, there’s this guy over there who said he was with you”, he mentioned as he pointed at Peter who was passing through the last security detail.

Peter rushed to get next to you, he had been swinging through the city and you could tell by how his curls were messier than how they usually got if he was running. You couldn’t help but to smile at his face at his state, his brows were knitted in a frown as he tried to catch his breath, the way his nose wrinkled made you want to shed a tear or two, you remembered how it usually made your heart burst whenever he did that.

“I’m so sorry, I had class and…”, Peter mumbled but he stopped again to breathe.

You knew that Peter didn’t want to come to Oscorp, it had been years since he had gotten bitten by that radioactive spider on a class trip but you were more than sure that it still triggered something in him. You had assured him that you could go alone, but being as stubborn as he was, he said he would go with you.

“Peter, don’t worry”, you said sweetly as you place your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “It’s okay”

Peter froze at your touch and you felt the tension on his muscles so you quickly took your hand off his shoulder. It all felt rather nostalgic to both of you, the way you trusted each other, how you knew you had each other’s back and understood. But this wasn’t like before and you knew it couldn’t be.

You cleared your throat and turned around to the security guard, signaling to him that you were ready to go see Mr. Osborn.

The small walk to the elevator was rather awkward as disjointed, not knowing who would go first and where to follow. Soon, you were surrounded by two other security guards when you reached the top floor where you were supposed to have the meeting.

Fury had been the one to call Norman, thinking that he wouldn’t take it seriously if you or Peter had made the call. Norman, aside from being paranoid, was a real asshole and everyone knew it, his employees lived in constant fear about any of his outbursts but they decided to stay because of his work with genetics, which was unique. You rolled your eyes at the thought of him, you remembered the disdain on his light green eyes when you had said ‘hi’ in one of the galas a couple of years ago.

Knowing this, it didn’t surprise you that when the elevator opened to a floor with one corridor surrounded by glass windows with different machines and people working inside before you could even step out, the glasses began to get foggy and soon they turned white, blocking the view of whatever they were doing inside.

Completely paranoid, you thought as you walked out of the elevator.

The security guard guided you to the end of the hallway to a large office and then opened the door. You were expecting to find a much older fragile guy with an unhinged look on his face, that’s how you imagined Norman would look but instead, you found Harry.

You remember being younger and having a crush on Harry for about a week when you still lived in Malibu, he was cute when he was younger but now, he was hot.

His almond eyes always looked good with his chiseled cheekbones and jaw, his smile was worth a thousand dollars, and his dark short hair framed his face perfectly. He had this bad boy look to him and you wondered how many girls and boys had fallen for him, you had heard a lot about Harry since you were put in the same group by the media: The prodigies’ heirs. You knew he was meant to carry the Osborn legacy like you were in charge of the Stark’s legacy but you also knew he liked to party and drink a little bit more than he should.

“Y/N!”, he said as he smirked at you, offering his hands and you took it, smiling softly at him before he placed a kiss over it.

“Nice to see you, H”, you answered as you tried your best not to blush.

Peter stayed behind you, rolling his eyes at the interaction as he saw how the guards quickly closed the door when Peter turned around.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, I was hoping you could go with me to a few galas but I heard you were traveling”, Harry continued as he offered one of the seats in front of his large desks, you whispered a small thank you as you sat down and then Harry sat in front of you with a large grin.

You turned around for a second to see Peter placing the glasses that Tony had given him for the mission, they were to be shared by the two of you but you had discussed yesterday over the phone that he should be the one wearing them since you had to handle Osborn.

Plus, Peter knew how to managed them better and the program E.D.I.T.H, you watch him scanning the room with his eyes and knew this was your turn to shine.

“Yeah, I needed to leave New York for a while”, you explained to him as you fixed your black blazer and the white blouse that you decided to wear that day.

Harry snickered at you, while he pointed at you with one finger as he waved his hand.

“You got in trouble, didn’t you?”, Harry asked with a gleam of malice on his eyes as he let out a little laugh of satisfaction. “Perfect y/n Stark in trouble”

You shuddered at the nickname, it brought you back the memories in Malibu as more information from you got out and it became a staple every time paparazzi caught you on the street and printed it on the magazine covers. You couldn’t help but feel your heart squeezing momentarily on your chest.

But then you gazed back at Harry, the delight in his eyes made you frustrated, he was enjoying himself, like the fact that you had messed up placed you on the same level as him. Sometimes you wondered if he even remembered that you were an avenger too, that you couldn’t disclose missions or that maybe he was playing dumb to get something out.

But you weren’t dumb or playing his games.

“You know us, trust fund kids”, you leered as you play with your hair, “We have our daddies to bail us out”, You smiled coyly as Harry chuckled -more to himself than anything-.

Peter felt sick as he heard you, rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. He knew you were acting, the way your voice was higher than usual, and how you were playing with a strand of your hair as you smiled demurely at Harry. But he couldn’t help but hate it, it wasn’t you.

“Come on Stark”, Harry continued, intrigued by what you had said, “DUI? Cocaine? Sex in the wrong place?”, he asked. “Been there, done that. It’s not that bad, why did you leave?”

You smirked while you shook your head, negating to answer.

“Oh, Harry, what would your dad say about that?”, you pointed out.

Harry licked his lips with a grin, although he looked another way, his eyes a bit gloomy as he recalled his couple of indiscretions.

You knew Harry didn’t have a good relationship with his father, he was the complete opposite for Norman and he was known for being an absent father. Harry grew up with nannies since her mother left and returned to Shanghai, Norman got full custody. The only thing Norman cared about when it came to Harry, was that he was almost as intelligent as him and should be the next one in charge of Oscorp.

“He wouldn’t care as long as I was here working in the morning”, he finally said.

You felt bad for Harry, you placed your hand over his in solidarity, not meaning anything more and Harry smiled sincerely back at you.

But then Peter cleared his throat.

“Can we know what Black Cat stole? We have another meeting”, he asked as he frowned at your interaction with him, his lips in a tight line as he removed the glasses for a moment.

Harry rolled his eyes as he stood up, he hadn’t even acknowledged Peter and he didn’t care to do so.

“Come with me”, he muttered as he stood up and opened the door of the office and you followed him swiftly as you glared at Peter for the interruption while he simply shrugged.

You followed Harry through the main hallway where you had walked and then quickly turned to the left, commenting about the updates his father had ordered to be more… private with their different projects.

“Your dad updated the security system after the attack of Black Cat?”, you asked as you finally reached a rather smaller lab compared to the rest.

Harry nodded over his shoulder to you before he reached the door, where a little camera appeared out of the blue while the wall opened to reveal more intricate security equipment.

“So, your dad didn’t already have all of this before Black Cat attacked?”, Peter asked Harry as he quickly placed his E.D.I.T.H glasses.

You smirked as you saw Peter’s eyes moving quickly, guessing he was reading all the information that had been given to him by the AI.

“The eye recognition is new, he installed it two days ago when he knew that you were coming”, Harry mentioned as a red line scanned his eye.

Peter and you gazed at each other in astonishment, which Harry noticed right away thanks to the silence.

“My dad doesn’t like your dad, he just wants to be safe”, he muttered as he placed a combination in the little pad with numbers over it.

“Your dad clearly knows how to hold a grudge”, you answered as you rolled your eyes.

Harry turned around with a grin, “Don’t mention it”, he said as he finally placed his hand on a little pad under the numbers.

He then took a step back and after a few seconds, the door finally opened.

It was a rather dark room, just about two people were working on the lab right at the moment, and with the deemed lights, you could only see the green glow in the different small tests tubes and stronger sources of lights coming from the various terrariums and tanks that held different animals: blue coral snakes, cone snails, pufferfish, among others.

You felt a shiver ran down your spine as you saw how one of the workers carefully took one of the blue corals' snakes and began extracting its venom, the snake recoiled and was more aggressive than anything, it seemed like the worker was having issues with it but soon, she took a hold of the snakes tail and forced it into the machine with big needles that were in charge of extracting the venom, you could hear the hisses of pain. You turned around, feeling like you couldn’t see any more, only to find small containers, near the edge of the room and rather down where dead animals in the canister.

You felt like you could throw up, but you turned around to see Peter, whose gaze was glued to the little test tubes.

Peter could feel the weight on his shoulders as he recalled the bite of the spider on the nape of his neck, the stinging and the horrible sensation that followed, he was sure he was going to die because of the pain but soon, it went away faster than he expected.

Only to find the next morning that everything had changed.

You could tell that Peter was struggling, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable like you had done earlier in the lobby. Nonetheless, the instinctive movement came alone, you offered your hand to him while Harry was not looking as he discussed something with the workers at the other end of the room.

Peter’s eyes followed your hand and he took it in a second, without even giving it much thought. His eyes connected to yours and you could feel the warmth in his smile, his eyes staring at you contemplatively as he tightened his hold on your hand while you tried to ignore how his gaze still set your pulse of fire, it annoyed you how after all this time, you still felt like that when he looked at you.

“Sorry for the delay”, you both heard, causing your heads to whip to where Harry was.

You quickly let go of Peter’s hand as he managed to choke a whimper as he felt your warm hand leaving, your touch in any way always made him feel grounded and it had been a while since.

Harry stood in front of you with a little test tube with fluorescent green liquid, while you came closer to him, removing your blazer and tying it to your hips. You tried to reach for it but Harry quickly took a step back as he shook his head.

“You have to wear gloves, this is rather an unusual substance”, he explained while you huffed.

“What does it do?”

“This baby is a mix of the best neuromuscular blocking agents we could find in nature”, Harry said as he shook it a bit. “They cause a rather faster and more heavy muscles relaxation by binding to the acetylcholine receptors postsynaptically”

Peter walked to your side, as he analyzed the substance with the help of E.D.I.T.H and he didn’t like what she was telling him.

“It blocks neuromuscular transmissions at what pace?”, Peter asked while looking a bit distressed.

Harry huffed as he started to recall, you felt a little bit anxious as you waited for Harry’s answer. Because if you were thinking correctly, Norman was playing with dangerous things.

“It’s faster than anectine”, Harry muttered as he gave the little test tube back to one of the workers.

“But anectine has an onset effect of three minutes”, you replied quickly while you walked towards the back of the room, following the worker who placed it in a refrigerating closet with hundreds of it.

“Exactly”, Harry said behind you. “This new substance can take less than ten seconds if you put it through IV and one minute through another medium”

“But why?”, Peter asked.

“This is much stronger, you know that FDA approved drugs that do the same thing are less heavy but if we get this right, it can change everything”, Harry explained as you turned around with a glare.

“This can become a weapon, H”, you growled while Harry simply rolled his eyes.

You quickly walked out of the room, Harry and Peter looked at each other for a second but then followed you swiftly outside. Peter giving another look at the lab so E.D.I.T.H could finalize its review before the door finally closed sealed.

“It can save lives, imagine if you have an accident or are injured in a place that’s farther away from any hospital or any type of medical care. If you need to have an emergency surgical process, but they don’t have even the simplest drugs to put you out at the exact moment, it decreases your chances of survival. You are screwed if you have first aid kits and you can find a way to make the tools needed for surgery but there’s nothing that can replace this”, Harry explained as you glared at him in the hallway.

“You can kill them, if they don’t have mechanical ventilation aid, they die”, you snapped at him as you passed a hand through your hair but then you saw Harry’s smirk. “What?”

“You don’t need mechanical ventilation with that”, he explained with gleaming eyes and a wide smile. “It’s brilliant!”

But you remained silent as you process the repercussions of what he was saying, but before you could say anything Peter spoke.

“But that means, that the person’s still conscious and able to breathe on their own”, Peter muttered as Harry and you stared at him. “You are basically trapped on your own body”

Harry’s smile faded rather quickly at Peter’s words, his excitement was gone as he processed what Peter was saying and even doubt could be perceived on his factions.

“Please, tell me that at least that wears off quickly as well”, you asked Harry with your eyes closed.

Harry’s answer still haunted you as you drove back to New York, you decided it was best to take your car than to fly with Peter hanging to you by a threat. It wasn’t a long flight from Staten Island to Washington Heights, but you had decided to not wear your suit too often and somehow you felt like you needed to process all that information. Black Cat was working with Kingpin, who was clearly in the mood for selling dangerous weapons to any kinds of people, this could have rather a short term and long term repercussions, if you were correct this stuff could be used by the burglar next door who would simply paralyze anyone on their way and even kill them or even grand stake villains such as Hydra soldiers or Scorpio.

Harry had assured you that they were still looking for an antidote and that it was going to come rather quickly, but your anxiety wasn’t slowing down at any moment. Peter could feel it too, you had asked him if he wanted a ride and he was happy that you had even offered it, considering that he thought that you would make him swing all the way to Washington Heights, but he wasn’t sure how much good it would make if you didn’t talk. The ride was long, and none of you broke the silence. He wanted to assure you that it would be okay, that you would catch the bad guys as you always did but, deep down, he understood how dangerous it could be.

Nonetheless, with the recollection that E.D.I.T.H had made, it seemed like with your help and Bruce, he could find out a rather faster antidote than what Harry had promised back at Oscorp and, although he still had to analyze the venom and its effects on his body, he was sure his body would metabolize fast enough to do any harm.

“We are here”, you muttered as Peter took off quickly the glasses that were trying to decode some of the Oscorp data about the venom, so it could expand its information.

“I’ve never met Justin Hammer”, Peter explained. “I was that day at the Stark Expo and I can clearly remember how one of the Iron man suits was in front of me and I swore I had blasted it with my toy, but… Tony was the one that did it”

You smiled as you turned around at Peter’s story, you remember how he always told it at dinner time and how much Tony loved it too.

But you also recalled how nervous you were for your father and Pepper, how he had disappeared for a couple of days as he fixed his arc reactor, and how you had been ushered out of the Expo, Happy driving you and Nat to where Vanko was. You still couldn’t believe how Hammer hadn’t lost his company after that, or even how he had gone to jail for just a year and a half before he was let out on parole.

He was an asshole back then and it seemed he was an asshole still.

“Well, well, well”, Hammer chuckled to himself as he received you in the lobby, still on a grey way to tight suit with wanna-be-Tony glasses “Who do we have here? Lovely to see you, little Stark”

Your eye twitched at the nickname, as you offered your hand in response.

“Can’t say the same thing”, you muttered while Peter walked next to you. “Peter, Hammer and Hammer, Peter”, you quickly said uninterested in having any more of a small interaction with him.

But Hammer was Hammer.

“Didn’t know you could drag your boyfriend to official meetings, it’s not very professional of the avengers”, he teased with a large grin as he shook Peter’s hand while his eyes were still were glued to you.

Peter could feel how his cheeks began to blush, stammering to deny the relationship while your nostrils flared and you crossed your arms across your chest.

“He is my father’s intern that helps not only to advance Stark’s Industries largest projects, which is at its best”, you said arrogantly. “He also helps the avengers, I think you wouldn’t know since not many want to work with you!”, a slight conceited smile grew on your lips.

Peter felt like he wanted to hide from the poison on your words but he also felt extremely fascinated but this new phase of you. Maybe while you were in Europe, you found yourself more and an actual voice. Maybe, after your fight, you weren’t taking anybody’s shit.

He was somehow glad and in awe.

“Oh spicy!”, Hammer shouted as he gave a playful nudge to you and his bodyguards behind him, giggling to himself while you simply rolled your eyes. “Love that for you, follow me”

The ride to one of the top floors wasn’t exactly long, but it felt like an eternity since Hammer couldn’t stop talking about what he was doing at the moment, how successful he was, how jail had been a wake-up call to him and had changed him to the core. He kept talking about how he had been given motivational talks all over Europe, and that had been sold out, but you doubted. You doubted all of this. You zone out, as you tried to isolate yourself from his non-stopping chattering.

And then, he showed you the little marble size neutralizers.

“Does this really work?”, you said as you played with the small device in your hands, you quickly tapped your earpiece and silently asked H.A.P.P.Y to study it, as the sleeve of your suit began to appear out of nowhere.

You could feel Hammer’s eye twitching as he saw the technology you had, but he quickly changed his demure while he muttered, “Same sense of humor as your father”.

Peter interrupted Hammer’s glued gaze to your suit as H.A.P.P.Y, your AI, analyzed it.

“But do they?”, Peter asked as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as Hammer turned around.

“What?”

“Work?”, Peter asked once more as you finished your scan and gave it to Peter, so he could examine it on his own.

But Hammer quickly snatched it from your hand as he began to play with it, his lack of seriousness caused you to feel irritable.

“No, these little suckers don’t. She took the wrong batch and couldn’t snatch the real ones”, he said smugly, as he then threw the marble to a trashcan close to you, he failed and the marble began to roll on the floor. “But these over there…”

Peter barely burst into laughs and so did you, until your eyes gaze to the back of the enormous white lab where a line of production was still moving, towards where Hammer was pointing.

“Where are those?”, you asked as you walked towards them.

“Well, these are the ones”, Hammer said as he ran behind you and Peter did the same. “These can knock out the entire Empire State building energy system”

“That means…”

“There’s a real possibility that she might be back”, Peter suggested wide-eyed as the line of marbles continued.

“I guess so”, Hammer shrugged as he continued to watch the little neutralizers being made.

You stayed silent as you gazed at Peter and he nodded.

“I need to know how did she entered last time, the exact time, and see if we can install better security cameras”, you ordered the bodyguards and the assistant of Hammer that were behind him, all of them nodded without question, leaving Hammer looking rather confused on how you could command his employees.

“Why do you need all that, little Stark?”, Hammer asked as he placed his hand behind the nape of his neck, clearly not getting any of it.

“We are going to be patrolling tonight”, you said as you raised an eyebrow mischievously towards Peter who smiled back at you.

It took about three calls to have a SHIELD team on Hammer Industries, installing better cameras and for the security body to start explaining to both you and Peter how Black Cat had entered and the possible weakest points on the building, but it seemed like the rooftop was always the weakest point since the windows right below it were the ones Black Cat had used to get inside. You called Tony to let him know your plan, while Peter went back to Queens to leave some stuff from university and he wanted to still leave E.D.I.T.H in a safe place, so he had to go through Stark Tower as well. Either way, he needed “to go” so Spiderman could come back to work with you.

Around 9:00 pm or so, you heard Peter’s characteristic thiwp!

You turned around as he landed behind you on the rooftop of the building, he had a different suit than the last one you had seen him with. This new model was black and red, a longshot from the blue and red or the iron-spider suit that you had seen him with before you left New York.

“Nice of you to show up”, you said with a slight smile while Peter walked towards you.

“Why aren’t you wearing your suit yet?”, Peter asked, standing next to you.

Your body urged to lean against him, as you usually did but you forced yourself not to do it. He was taller than before, you had always been the same height but now he seemed to pass you by a couple of inches, you shuddered at the memory of him holding you against a wall but you shook your head, walking away from Peter.

“I wore that suit for far too long when I was away, I like to wear it now when I really need it”, you explained to him, walking around looking at your feet.

Peter nodded as he trailed behind you, “It was too much work?”, he asked slowly.

“A lot more than what I was used to”, you admitted as you faced Peter with a smile. “But it was worth it, either way”

Peter was being cautious, he didn’t want to scare you since you had actually had a nice day together without any issues, he felt like with time both of you would simply gravitate together like you had before everything got so messed up. He liked to think that the pain would go away, that you wouldn’t hurt each other anymore, but that was foolish and disrespectful to you.

To think that you could forgive him without even saying sorry, to think that he would simply go back to how you were without him knowing what happened that day. And although he knew that you maybe didn’t want to talk about it, he knew that if he didn’t try to fix it, then he would regret it forever.

“Y/N, we should talk”

You froze as you heard Peter’s words and you decided that flying at that exact moment, away from the rooftop, away from him; would be a great idea.

The feeling of not being enough, of feeling so stupid for not foreseeing what was going to happened seemed to overwhelm you. Those feelings that began as hurt turned into resent and anger, more than what you would like to admit.

You’ve had a nice day, not that you were being too close like before by any means but you wished that he could just let it be. But you knew it was foolish and disrespectful to him not to give him a chance to talk, to understand what had happened that day.

“What do you have to say?”

Peter raised his eyebrows, not that you could see it completely with his mask on but he was surprised that you had agreed on it. He quickly walked closer to you, his scent invading your space and you had to close your eyes as you tried not to be dazed by the smell of cinnamon and honey.

“I mean, can you tell me what happened?”, Peter asked you and you literally felt your heart squeezing on your chest.

Is he that oblivious? you thought to yourself.

“Weren’t you there?”

Peter rolled his eyes at your statement.

“You know what I mean y/n”, he watched you as you raised your eyebrow.

“No, I don’t,” you snarled, “You know exactly what happened, why do you want to play dumb?”, snapping at Peter’s stance, you knew him well enough to know that he should have a dumbfounded expression under the mask.

“I’m not playing dumb, y/n!”

“But you are!”, you snapped with your face pinched with your cheeks growing hot as each second passed. “Why you want to taunt me with this? Why do you feel the need to bring this up again?”

You could feel your chest getting heavier as each word left your mouth, the tears building up in your eyes as you watched Peter, narrowed eyes and harsh breaths began to feel the air once more.

“Because we were best friends!”

“Well, what good did that do?”, you snarled at him and now you felt your tears falling from your eyes, and you hated it. You hated feeling like that, helpless. “Best friends know the other more than they know themselves, best friends tell each other what’s happening in their lives, best friends care about each other’s feelings, they don’t hurt the other as you hurt me!”

“How on earth did I hurt you, y/n?”, Peter snapped back at you, irritation growing on his chest, “Getting together with Gwen? Did you think that I would leave you behind? You never told me anything!”

You stayed silent for a moment, the image of Peter kissing Gwen repeated over and over again on your head. You remember the anger you felt against yourself, you remember how you hated being a coward, you hated it, and yet, here was Peter reminding you about it.

“Your naiveté amazes me sometimes”, you scoffed as you got closer to him for a second, watching him with disdain.

“Oh my god, would you just tell me?”, Peter sighed loudly, you were sure he was rolling his eyes as you wiped the tears away from your face, “You are acting extremely…”

“Come on, go ahead and say it!”, you yelled at him, throwing overboard whatever composure you had held through the day.

“Immature, you are immature!”, Peter yelled back and it stung, more than what you would like to admit. “Can you just stop this and tell me for god’s sake?”

You shook your head, you couldn’t even believe that you had allowed this conversation to go for as long as it had, and with what Peter was saying, he didn’t even seem like himself. The more you heard his words, the more you believed that he actually didn’t know you.

“Figure it out by yourself and leave me an alone idiot!”, you tried to say in a stentorian voice, but it came out much smaller than you thought.

You felt tired, the energy it took to fight Peter, the energy it took to call him out on his cluelessness, it took a toll on you. Bottling up feelings had been your defense mechanism for so long, that sometimes when you wanted to say your mind, your throat hurt and your heartfelt heavy.

The lump never seemed to leave, neither the heaviness and in conversations like this, they seemed more prominent.

Peter stayed silent for a moment as he saw your chest coming up and down, the tears rolling from your checks and he hated it, he hated himself for causing it but he also hated you for not telling him anything, silence had always been your favorite weapon and it stung.

But still, you were you and he didn’t want to see you upset. He quickly tried to take a hold of your hand but you snatched it away, almost instinctively.

“What’s your problem?”

The air between both of you was rather thick, Peter and you remained silent as you securely were watching one another. It seemed that all that resentment and anger and hurt had been left in the air, the bubble was still there but nothing seemed to be able to pop it.

And you knew it would be harder to breathe each time that you found one another, only causing more pain.

Who would want to live like that? You asked yourself, as you decided to simply let go.

“My problem is that I liked you,” you confessed, “I loved you and you disregarded my feelings and got together with Gwen”

Peter remained stunned for a second, or two. He had been waiting years, years for you to finally confess your feelings for him. He dreamed of it since he met you but he had talked himself out of it, simply assuming that you were brave, that you would tell him if there were feelings on your part, but you only treated him as a friend, except for…

“Why didn’t you tell me!”, he complained and you shot him a glare.

“Oh, come on, don’t act like that night wasn’t anything!”

“What night?”, the sultry strange voice seemed almost like a purr.

You whipped your heads towards where the voice came from and there she was, on the edge of the building standing delicately. Her long silver (almost white) hair was tightly wrapped up in a tall ponytail with two strands of hair framing her face perfectly. It seemed it complimented her almost purple eyes that shined from behind the black mask that covered most of the upper region of her face but let out on the open her plump lips that had an intense dark red lipstick that suited her well.

Then her black leather costume with soft white lines was, well, tight everywhere. It framed her body perfectly, it almost seemed like it was a second skin, her boy was voluptuous and beautiful, her hands looked like claws and those nails seemed like they could cut ice, almost like they were knives on their own.

“Lovely to see you, Spidey”, she said to Peter, her silky voice gave you tingles as you quickly reacted and pressed the charm on your necklace.

The suit started to hug your body when Black Cat turned around and a grin was drawn on her face as she watched you transforming yourself into the hero that you were. Her eyes gleaming at the sight of your suit as she licked her lips, you felt almost embarrassed as if you were laid bare in front of her.

“You brought me a new one,” she cooed, “and the prettiest, nonetheless”

You felt your cheeks getting warm as she got closer to you, her hips swinging from side to side as she walked and you placed yourself in a defensive stand.

She giggled to herself, clearly loving the possible challenge.

“That’s enough Cat”, Peter snapped as he shot one of his webs and caught her hand.

Black Cat chuckled to herself, as she quickly slashed Peter’s web from her hand and threw a little explosive towards where he was, forcing Peter to retreat for a second but before she could turn around to run, she faced you, you quickly took a hold of her shoulder and cocked your head.

“Sorry Kitty”, you muttered before you pushed her down to the floor as you kneeled, her head bounced against the concrete and she groaned.

She glared back at you and before you knew it, she wrapped her legs on your neck as she did a candlestick and then pulled you down as she rolled over you, leaving you under her legs. You quickly took a hold of her waist, as you tried to get her off from you but her hold on your neck was rather tight.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull as she watched you and leaned down a bit, “You look so pretty like that”, she whispered.

You took that second to recover from her statement and you took a hold of her neck, tightly, hoping that she would let go of yours, but it seemed like she enjoyed just the amount of pressure that you placed on her neck. She quickly placed her hands on your hand as her eyes remained glued to yours.

“Harder, pretty please?”, she purred and you could feel your hold getting looser by her words.

“Oh my god, stop!”, you yelled at her, knowing that if you removed your mask, she would be able to see the corners of the lips turn upward, although you were trying so hard not to.

Peter quickly grabbed her by the arms and peeled her off from you with force, giving you space to breathe a bit again, she giggled as Peter took a hold of her tightly from behind. She struggled to get free as Peter pressed her elbows together in an attempt to immobilize her.

“She always does that,” Peter assured you as he grunted while he tried to keep her steady. “She wants to make you uncomfortable”

Black Cat rolled her eyes, “Or maybe because I like her?”, she provoked as she winked at you. “You look good Spidey,” she stated as she coiled on Peter’s arms who seemed to be having trouble holding her as you stood up and tried to help, still feeling rather embarrassed by her attention. “Been working out?”, she asked.

You walked to where Black Cat being held by Peter who was waiting for you to place vibranium bracelets so you could take her to the respective authorities. It had been quicker than what you had planned, especially since Peter hadn’t been able to catch her on his own before. But alone, you were sure that she would’ve sat on you for a longer time.

“Stop”, Peter growled, completely focused on holding her still so the vibranium bracelets would hold her correctly.

“So, what happened between the two of you?”, she asked while you watched her intently. “Fucked him and left him, Stark?”

“That’s a lot of questions”, you answered her as you ordered H.A.P.P.Y to generate the vibranium bracelets, you saw her purple-ish eyes watching you up and down before you walked behind her.

“I’m just curious”, she whispered, shrugging slightly.

Peter shook his head. “Yeah, I hear that’s bad for cats”, he muttered slowly while your suit began to generate the vibranium bracelets but before you could place them on her, she got into action.

She quickly gave Peter a swift backward kick that hit him right on his… web shooter and let herself loose, she quickly recovered her hands and began to run towards the edge of the building, to where she had accessed the lab last time.

You didn’t waste a second, soon you were flying towards her and as she jumped from the edge of the building, right in the mid of the air, you managed to grab her, stopping her and effectively, managing to take the air on her lungs because of the impact. You quickly managed to rise higher into the air and then back up to the rooftop where Peter was calling you through the com but Black Cat recovered quickly, and she coiled on your arms and before you knew it, she slashed one of your sleeves with her claws.

You hissed as you watched your arm, she had managed to remove a couple of the nanobots that made your suit, it wasn’t too deep but she had managed to cut you, which was concerning because it meant that those claws were made by something strong.

“Ow!”, you grumbled. “Are you crazy?”

You then gazed at her and she was smirking as she tried to take another hit at your chest, without any doubt you let go of her, right above where Peter was waiting for both of you.

“Web her up!”, you ordered Peter as Black Cat fell and began to be wrapped in Peter’s web as he shot at her repeatedly but every time he managed to immobilize one hand or her legs, she slashed his web with her other claw.

“I can’t get her!”, Peter grunted as he continued to shoot at her.

When she landed on the roof, barely harmed and with only the excess of webs that Peter had managed to throw at her. Peter ran after her, quickly webbing her feet as he jumped towards her and pushed her to the floor, but she was so swift and suave that she simply landed on her hands and managed to do several round-off back handspring escaping from Peter and then effectively managed to break her hold on her legs.

“Are you serious?”, Peter cursed to himself and she gave him a light wink.

She then turned around with a smile on her face only to crash against your suit, she gasped heavily as she watched you in front of her, giving a quick step back. You smiled and before Black Cat even knew it, you pointed at her with one of your repulsors.

“Sorry Kitty”, you muttered before you shot her with your repulsor, sending her back into the floor and where Peter was standing.

Although you had diminished the capacity of your suit by a lot for that shot, you still felt a small sense of fear when you saw that she was not moving, Peter was already on his knees watching her intently and checking her vitals.

“Is she okay?”, you asked Peter as you arrived, but before he could even answer you ordered H.A.P.P.Y. to check her vitals.

Peter rolled his eyes, “She’s fine”, he answered but your mask disappeared quickly as you glared at her. “She’s just unconscious”

“Miss Stark, she’s okay. She seems to have a slight concussion but she’s aw-”

Before H.A.P.P.Y. could finish talking you felt your legs being wrapped in something, you lowered your eyes to your legs and they seemed to be bounded by a white threat, you raised your head once more to see that Black Cat had disappeared from between you and Peter and that Peter was in the same position as you, he gazed at you with a haunted expression.

You quickly felt a hand on the back of your neck, it swiftly droved your head against Peter’s and everything went black, the last thing you remember was Peter’s honey and cinnamon scent and Black Cat’s voice:

“Can’t wait to see you again, Stark”

****

taglist: @spideylovin @fandomtrash100 @soullessbabee

***

author’s note: So, I think it’s like one of my first chapters that i’ve revised as well as i did just because i wanted the introduction to Felicia to be perfect and to see how interested she actually is on y/n. anyway, it can still have some mistakes and i’m so osrry for that but i hope you like it?? i’m more than excited for the next few chapters.

next few chapters we are going to have more action and begin with the fun partss! I’ll leave a sneak peak of the next chapter in the masterlist like i did for this one and yes. also, next few chapters are going to be so long and that might take me more time, i have the skeleton ready for chapter 2, i just need to fill it with details but HOPEFULLY i have it uploaded by sunday but i’m also full of finals?? i’ll try for sunday but maybe it will be ready for next week FOR SURE.

please please please let me know what did you think!! a little like or reblog would literally make my day and i’m already SO happy with everything you commented on my last post. literal tears. thank you so so so much for taking the time to read my work, thank you!! any feedback is very well received!!

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