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mywritingonlyfans · 3 years

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Angst fic with Damiano David

prompt: a angsty about reader being sad (dami bff) 'cause damiano doesn't feel the same way romantically. ps. there's a lot of victoria de angelis being a angel in this fic, and it's basically about reader going through it.

warnings: none? it's just a bit sad and longer than usual.

All the soft touches still tingled all over your body. His scent was until now stuck to you, you never thought you’d feel happy to have woody essence along with cigarette smoke on you.

Folding the sleeve of his sweater, you put your tea in one of the cups you always use when you were there. His cotton piece was comfortable, making you didn't regret wearing it in the morning; it was cold and wearing your tank top from the night before didn't feel right. The shorts from yesterday, that were making your legs freeze were enough trouble for you to handle. The remnants of your clothes and belongings were collected from the floor of his room and placed carefully on his headboard, you made sure you were being quiet. Damiano has always been a heavy sleeper, but your counscious prevented you from risking disturbing him when he looks so peaceful. You had already spent much time at his place so you memorized where every thing in his kitchen - and others rooms - was; baking eggs and making tea wasn’t a mystery for you. You had even separated a Tylenol tablet for Damiano, so he could have it with his tea when he woke up with a wicked hangover. He wasn't the type to get drunk and forget what he did, nor were you. Since when you were teenagers, you have gone out and been drunk together a lot of times, and although your feelings were already present, nothing never happened. This time, however, alcohol helped injecting a dose of courage on him. Being honest with yourself, you didn't remember who started it; but the kiss in the midst of the loud music, his hand on the back of your neck, the exchanging glances while dancing and the moment he took you home, they were pretty vividly in your mind. You still felt relaxed, as if his sweaty body was still over yours. Minutes with your eyes closed was enough to feel his eyes roaming your body all over again.

“Hi,” he said in a slurred voice, cutting off your line of thoughts. You jumped, briefly scared but soon turned your attention to reality; a tired Damiano scratching his eyes in front of you.

He was dressed, wearing sweatpants and sweatshirt, duly comfortable according to the weather.

“Headache?” You knew he was. He was always a good drinker, he put up with it a lot, but he was never one to get rid of the effects of alcohol on the next day. You, on the other hand, got on better with this issue; fortunately from the night before, only the good moments remained with you.

“Yeah, a bit,” he giggled. “What a night, I’d say.” He added, in a lower tone. What was acceptable, you also felt a bit weird to be in front of him.

“I got you some pills,” you pointed it out to him on the counter, trying to maintain a normal behavior; with no shacking voice or sweaty hands. Quite impossible. “I made tea too.”

“Dear God, you’re a life saver!” He smiled at you, eyes crinkled and all of his perfect teeth on display. Contagious.

You grinned, feeling your body getting lighter. “No worries. I’m glad to help.”

“Y’know, when I woke up and saw that you weren't there I thought you were gone. You know? Friendship destroyed and that whole thing. I’m happy to see you; relieved.” He took a sip of his tea, and maybe a bit of your heart with it. You were an explosion of feeling when it comes to him, you always have been. “That sweater looks good on you, you can keep it if you want. You know that’s my fave one.” And, yeah, you knew.

The tension on you was no longer intense, comforting you to let out the breath you were holding. “It’s good to hear that,” Your genuine smile managed to say many things, you wished Damiano had noticed you earlier on other occasions. “Do you remember that one time, when we were younger, that you were a bit crazy about a girl; Alice was his name.” You stopped; in need of air - nervous - and watched Dami's attentive face. “She was the first person to whom you dedicated a song, you played it to her at school break. The cutest thing I had ever seen. I think it was there that I realized, a little jealous—“

“Y/N,” his voice had been almost inaudible, causing no effect. Had he really tried?

“How in love I was with you.”

His face was paler than usual, he was paralyzed; speechless. You had never seen Damiano like this, the men was always all over the place in a sweet talkative mess.

It took a few minutes for you to be able to read his expressions and realize how fucked up you were. The dose of happiness in your blood had been able to manipulate you to believe in what you most wanted to happen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” your blood had gone up to your ears, all you could pay attention to was the pressure in your head. How had you thought that after one specific night he would suddenly decide that he was in love with you? After all of this time that you were just a good friend for him? “I’m truly sorry but I’m don’t—“

“Feel the same way?” You finished. He nodded, apprehensively. You have never felt so stupid. It was a mixture of shame, fear and insecurity. You were unable to look directly at him, you knew that there was no change in following a friendship after what you just said, much less after the night before. You had never been so screwed.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, I shouldn’t have said a thing.” You whispered, realizing that the lump in your throat had turned into tears that you didn't even know were running down your face.

“Come here,” he opened his arms, walking towards your emotionless frame. You allowed yourself to melt in his grip.

Your tears fell freely; you could even try to hold it back but there was no strength left for you to think about it. Your crying was silent, as was the kitchen room. Your head was full of questions and cursing at yourself. Suddenly you wished Damiano had yelled at you, asked you to get out of there or said he wouldn't never speak to you again. It seemed easier to deal with it in this alternative way than to have him comforting you for loving him. “Shh, it’ll alright. I could never be mad at you.”

He talked about your friendship, but you knew that nothing would end up well. Maybe for him. But for you? It’d not be that easy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have known better, you were so loving with me last night that I thought— Fuck, we slept together. Which I know isn’t your fault because I don’t even remember who—“

“Stop, Y/N. Look at me,” He was being careful. You were making a person like Damiano calculate his words, that made you feel like pure shit. You stopped talking, looking at him was still difficult. He understood that you wouldn’t be doing so. “That’s fine. I don’t feel bad about you liking me in that way, you’re wonderful. I don't regret anything, last night was great, but I just... don't feel the same. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I can't even imagine how hard it’s being for you right now.” His words sounded sweet and sincere. He had tears in his eyes as well. His ability to be so empathetic to everyone was something you loved the most about him. He was probably killing himself on the inside for breaking you.

You nodded, leaning on the counter. You wanted to ask him if he remembered that he was your first kiss at the age of seven or all the times he sent you vinyl records with some message - that he had written himself - inside the cover. How did he not feel the same, shouldn't you be everything he wanted?

“Dami?” You sighed. Your eyes were red, your face probably swollen. You then looked straight at him; that surprisingly wasn’t much better than you. “Have you ever looked at me and seen me in another way? Something more than just your best friend?”

He didn’t say a thing, just look at you standing there. You get it.

“I think I should go,” You broke the silence that had been formed. You thought about taking his sweater off, but since you weren't wearing anything underneath, you thought it was better not; you’d have to go to his room to change, and then pick up your things only to delay your leaving.

“I can drive you home,” he said in a hush, looking for his car keys.

“It’s okay, a walk will be fine.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, I can't let you walk over there like that.”

You ignored what he said, walking around the house to the front exit. He tried to grab your arm just for you to step back.

“I know you're just trying to help, but I need to be alone right now, without you near me.” You tried to say it in the most normal way possible, you didn't want to be mean, you only wanted to be fair to yourself.

“Sure.” It was the last thing you heard him say before you left, feeling the cold wind on your body. You didn't know if he had entered his house again or if he was watching you hug yourself as walking slowly to somewhere. You wouldn't dare to look back.

--------------------------------------------------------

“C’mon girl, get up here,” Upon hearing the husky, strong voice, you were relieved.

Victoria wasn’t wearing her usual jewelry and looked like she had just been woken up by force. You weren’t as close to her as you were with the other boys, however, you had never been so happy to see her.

You got in her car. “Thank you,”

“God, you look terrible. You’re fine?” You looked at your reflection in the rearview mirror and well, fine was definitely something you didn't look like.

“Dami asked you to come and get me?” Your throat was scratching, it was difficult to speak.

“Yeah,” she looked at you quickly, but due to your discomfort she backed off. More tears would come. “He didn't say why though, he just said he needed someone to come to you before you froze to death.” She said it in a way that made you laugh, even with your eyes filled with tears. “Did the two of you have a disagreement? You don't have to answer me if you don't want to.”

“Something similar.” You said shakily; due to your crying and chilly. Inside the car was heated, but your body was so cold that it didn't seem to be enough. You tried to snuggle in the passenger seat, letting your head rest against the window like in a sad film. Maybe that’d help.

“Here,” she handed you a coat, without hesitation you took it. “I brought it to you in case you needed it.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you, Victoria,”

“You can call me Vic, just like everyone else,” she laughed.

You gave her a half smile. “Okay then, thank you very much, Vic,”

The rest of the day would be crying while you curled up in your bed, you’d let yourself feel at your worst; promising that you would try and change that the next day.

———----------------------------------------------

You expected the first few days to be the hardest, but it seemed to get worse with each passing day. Damiano had tried to call you a few times and in all of them you responded dryly, using short words, pretending it’d be okay. You truly tried, but you needed time to process what happened. You told him that, and then time he gave you.

After completing a month of the incident, you noticed how 'dependent' you had become on him. He was always around since you were kids, any problem you had you would look for him to talk to, now you felt like you had nothing. Your friends were friends of his, too, more of his friends than yours. You missed having Thomas failing on teaching you how to play guitar on your couch and besides you thought about calling him - just to distract yourself - you remembered that he was more a friend of Damiano than yours. It’d be weird. None of them contacted you at that time, not even Thomas. You couldn't figure it out if Dami had told them what happened and they decided to give you space or if they just didn't care about you when you wasn’t around Damiano.

Basically, where Dami was you would be and vice versa. It had always been like that.

When you saw that just time wasn’t solving anything, you programmed yourself to live in a way that you were busy all the time. Your routine became work, home and most of the time taking the work to be done also in your home. You didn't feel energized to make new friends, and going out on dates could help momentarily but it wouldn't be fair to go out with someone in the ‘mood’ you were in; then these ideas were soon discarded. Sleeping was impossible, you spent hours rolling over in bed; both for the flashbacks that plagued your mind, but also for the fact that you missed him. The nights were worse when you visit your mother or when she called and said, "Dami never came to see me again." or something like. “Are you still talking to each other? We don't let someone like Damiano leave our lives.”

Deep down, you knew there was no way you could be in love with him forever and that no matter how much it hurt at that moment it would pass. You started to repeat it to yourself as much as you could, so when the boys got in touch with you again you didn't hesitate to answer. Nothing bad would happen, you just need to pretend to be fine. The first to send you a message was Thomas, with simple questions, he acted like nothing had happened, you liked it. Even though it was obvious that Thomas, as one of his boys, would know this in more detail than you did (which was a lie, but at least he knew how Damiano was feeling about it, which you wouldn't know). He updated you about Dami, who was great as always, and you said you were doing well when he asked. You answering him made Ethan talk to you too, although they were all polite and delicate, they seemed more to be sorry than to miss you. Pity wasn’t something you were expecting.

After five months, you still felt like crap. You had tried to stop counting the days that had passed since you last saw Damiano, but it was almost impossible. You could still remember that night vividly, but you were still trying your best to move on; leave it behind. Mysteriously, you wanted to see him, see how he was doing and find out if he had anything else to say but you were afraid to see him, go back to your place as his best friend just to realize that your feelings for him had not abated at all.

“...I haven't seen you in a while. I wonder if you're alright,” you heard when answering your phone. Your head hurt, your eyes stung. You had slept on spreadsheets that you brought home from your work.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Shit,” she murmured.

You looked at the phone screen. “Sorry Vic, I just woke up I'm still trying to copy.” You laughed to calm her down.

“I thought I didn't have my number,” her voice became softer, as if she was relieved that you had saved it. “I didn't want to wake you up, I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to know how you‘re doing, since I used to see you almost every day, y’know?”

You thought about saying that you saved her number the day Dami called to pick him up at a bar since his phone battery was dead and he was in no condition to drive, but Victoria clearly knew that. “Is Dami with you?”

“No,” her tone matched yours; Dami had told her, now she was being careful with her words. “I saved your number the day Dami needed to call you, in case I needed to call you again.”

“That’s alright, thanks for checking on me then.”

“But he would love to talk to you. He always asks the boys about you or comments on you so that someone can bring you up to the convo. He seems a bit lost when you not ‘round to be honest.”

Somehow hearing that made you happy. Still, the image of discomfort whenever you thought of talking to him scared you. The phone line was filled with silence, until Victoria's husky voice filled the line.

“Anyway, I didn't call you to talk about Damiano. We finally finished the album and decided to have a small celebration at my house,” you giggle at the formality. “We thought you should go, since you were present in more than half of the process. I‘d like you to come. We’d all like you to come.”

———

Your heart accelerated with each step you took as you entered Victoria's house. The rooms had a glow of being calm and the music that was playing helped to make the place cozy. The instrumental of the band reminded you of Fleetwood Mac, and for the little that you knew Vic you would say that the type of sound reminded you of her.

Her house wasn’t crowded, there were only a few people around; some you’ve seen before, some you haven’t. You thundered your fingers over some vinyl that were arranged in a corner, pretending to read them. You were looking for familiar faces, honestly even for Damiano, but for some unknown reason you didn't want to make that obvious. Your eyes captured Thomas talking to some girls, and soon you felt relieved to be dressed according to the occasion; or at least according to the girls who were close to Thomas. It didn't take long until he noticed you standing there, you waved and he came to you. He looked surprised, still he didn't wait for you to say anything else, just wrapped you in his arms so tight you had to ask him to let go in between muffled laughter.

“Vic working miracles! Come, I'll take you to the others.” He said in his cute form, holding your hand as guiding you through the house. “So, how's our best girl?”

Your lips parted in a smile. “I’m alright, pretty much the same to be honest,” there was no time for him to ask another question because you soon spotted Ethan and Victoria with their beers in hands. They seemed to be shocked to see you as well; and it was starting to irritate you for reasons you couldn't explain. Thomas put you behind him, hiding you from the two of them as if they hadn't seen you already. He was being such a sweetheart that he had even managed to soften the anxious butterflies in your stomach; but not enough to keep your mind free of worries and Damiano David. Thomas made a funny noise with his hands as Ethan ignored his attempt to be amusing, pulling you into a hug. Who would have thought you would have missed them so much.

“How long without seeing you, I force you not to do that again. Without you we are just another disorganized mess.” You laughed at his nonsense. Your smile was sincere, like it hadn't been for months, still you were forcing yourself a bit more to appear to be actually 'fine'. You’d like to know if they noticed, even though you were appreciating that they didn’t.

“No worries, I‘m not planning on leaving you guys alone.”

Ethan and Thomas started to discuss about something, Ethan was already under the effect of alcohol, and from time to time they asked for your opinion on how Victoria had been strangely quiet. Atypical of her, but she didn't seem to be out of place or uncomfortable, just quiet.

“Did a cat eat the tongue of my newest attractive friend?”

“Not this time,” she showed you her tongue, and then smirked. Her eyes shone in differently way under your gaze and her make up was making her look more mature. “Are you feelin’ good? Thank you for coming.” Victoria was happy to see you, you could feel that. She might be curious, but pity wasn’t something possible to see in her; different from the other boys. “You must be tired of hearing that question, I'm sorry. It‘ll no longer be asked.”

Her voice was soft, comfortable to hear. “I appreciate that. I really have heard a lot of that, but despite everything, I feel good ‘bout bein’ here.”

“I feel even happier that you came then,” she put her hand gently on your waist. The other two didn't even remember you and Vic were there. “Let's get you something to drink, we bought that red drink Damiano always says you love.”

“No way, it’s bishop cocktail?” You looked at her, a big grin on your face, even though you remembered that this was the drink you were drinking when the universe decided it would be a good idea for you and Dami to have a one-night stand. Just a lovely reminder. “Have you mixed everything up? like the rum with the red wine? or with red drink you just want to say you bought wine?” You asked, ignoring your internal conflicts. Everything would be fine, you ket repeating to yourself.

“In fact, I remember once hearing you comment you didn't mind it being mixed up in a random bottle.”

She pulled a glass bottle out of a bucket full of ice and you couldn't believe she remembered that; given that you could count on your fingers the times that you had actually spoken to her. You didn’t avoid each other, just didn’t have much of the opportunities.

“Oh my god, that’s so fuckin’ lovely.” You whispered. She was quick to pick up a glass and hand it to you, filling it with the so well remembered liquid. You took a sip, and the taste - or alcohol - made your butterflies calmer. “Thanks for that, tastes like heaven.” She took a glass for herself, by her expression she thought it was a waste of rum. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“If you think so, who am I to deny.”

“Don’t be a bummer,” you bumped your shoulder with hers, eliciting a cute sound from her that made you laugh as well.

You wish that sensation had lasted longer, even so when a random girl approached you to ask something, you felt heavy; like a sign. Her hair was golden in perfect waves and her face was angelic in an almost divine way. You might have been overreacting, but she was the type to catch all the attention to herself.

“You’re Y/N, right? I was startin’ to think that I’d never get to know you.” She hugged you tight and you wondered if she really didn't know you. When she released you, you felt your heart breaking right there in front of her. She was wearing Dami's sweater; the same one from that night, the same one that you wore. You wanted to be wrong, but you’d know that sweater from a distance even after years. “He talks so much about you. Can you believe we never met?” She asked, alternating her gaze between you and Victoria. She had been silent, you had forgotten that she was still there. Your head was miles away in thoughts, making you dizzy.

“Hi, Bella,” Victoria said. You remembered that name. Damiano talked about her on a few occasions, anyways he didn't seem to be in love - or you just didn’t want to see that. Maybe you haven’t been able to read him due to your stupid passion. “How’s everything?”

She started talking to Victoria and you couldn't concentrate on listening; all the alcohol in the world would not ease what you were feeling. How long have they been together? What was so special about her that Damiano gives her his favorite sweater? Were they together when you slept together? How did she end up with the same sweater you slept in that day?

She held the cup that was in your hands and handed it to Victoria. “Are you okay, hon’? You look a lil’ unwell. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No need, I’m alright,” she patted your arm, and then checked your temperature. She was being nice, yet you couldn't pretend to be interested in being there anymore.

Thankfully, Victoria put an arm around your shoulders, asking if you want to join her to have a smoke. “It’ll be good, fresh air will do good to you.”

You agreed. Bella was worried and you felt bad about having to run away from her. She looked like an incredible person, sure Damiano was lucky to have her, that was just too much for you.

“Do this, you will feel better. We can talk later and so you can tell me everything about you and Dami, I’d love to hear you, since you’ve known each other for so long.” You looked for some irony in her voice, but you didn't found it. She was interested in you; after all, you were her boyfriend's best friend. It made sense.

Victoria guided you to the balcony, or at least halfway to it. Midway, someone stopped to talk to her, she tried to dismiss the person, however, as it was a thing related to the album, she would have no way out. “Victoria, it’s fine, I need some time alone.” You whispered to her, patting on her arm. She looked at you reluctantly, but understand. There wouldn't be much she could do for you.

Entering the balcony you felt an absurd urge to cry, your eyes itched and your legs were trembling. Was being in love meant to hurt this much, or was it just a game of chance?

You tried to take a deep breath, ease your heartbeats, telling yourself it was okay. You just needed to calm down. You leaned your body against the wall and watched the place. The plants near the fence - which you didn't know how Victoria had time to take care of them - the streets, and then the sky. Starry and moist, made for good memories that wouldn't come to you. When you felt ready enough to go out and face the party again, you ran into the one you were trying to avoid, Dami. Minutes ago you were anxious with the possibility to see him to know how he was, now you just wanted to run away and wipe these last months out of your mind.

“Y/N,” his body collided with yours while his arms wrapped around you, it was supposed to be a good thing, that you‘d feel safe as the same way you used to feel, except that was uncomfortable now. You couldn't even respond to his hug, for a second you thought you would escape without having to see him. He noticed and gave you space. “I swore that you wouldn't come. My god, it's so good to see you.” He ran his hands through his hair and you remained paralyzed in front of him.

You tried to focus on your breathing so that your voice came out without too many complications. “Yeah... It's good to see you, you look great.” It didn't work, your voice was shaky making your lie sound even worse. He looks great, you didn't lie, he seemed even happier and well rested. You wondered if it was because the album was ready or because now he had Bella.

You forced a smile, but unlike the others, Damiano knew you were acting. He didn’t judge or question, his face became tense, apprehensive. He knew that nothing was right.

“I thought about callin’ you more, goin’ to see you or something. The boys convinced me that it‘d be better not, that it could be even hard for you. I wonder if I shouldn't have done something different to help you because I know I fucked up too.” His hands were undecided between running through his hair and staying inside his pockets. He was nervous, at the same relieved to have spoken to you.

“It wasn't your fault, I’d never blame you for that,” you sighed, smiling slightly. It felt terrible to make him feel that way about it, but there wasn't much you could do. “I'm glad you gave me space when I asked, it's still hard to see you or think about talkin’ to you. It is as if everything that is tormenting me comes all at once.” It was good to say that to him. He nodded and you looked at each other for a while. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be.

He was a few feet away from you while you were admiring the night, with your back against the wall. You wanted to leave, maybe go cry in your bed until you fell asleep, still you wanted things to work out with Dami, you wanted that tension and fear of seeing him to get out of your head. Despite that, if it was necessary to suffer in that process, it would not be worth it.

“She’s amazing,” it hurt to say that, but it was the truth. “Bella’s amazing, lucky girl.” You smiled sadly. Saying her name and seeing Dami smiling at that made you thank God for not seeing the two of them together, hugging or kissing. He‘d probably put his hand on her waist while she was talking to one of his friends or giving lightly kisses to her temple, just because he felt like it. Damiano was the cute type, you've seen it before.

“She is, an amazing person. She was all happy to have spoken to you. I told her all about our teenage years and how you always supported the band,” He had told her about you, would he have told her about you being in love with him? You thought to ask, soon giving up. It’d be shameful if so. “If I knew you would be here I’d not have come with her.” It made you think that he had told her.

“What would you do? Would you hide me from her for the rest of your life?” You sighed. it was supposed to sound like a joke, regrettably your voice sounded too cruel for that.

“It’s not like that,” he mumbled. “I was just tryin’ to think of you and—“

“I think I need to go Dami, it’s being too much. I’m sorry.” You needed to get out of there, you couldn't stop the tears anymore and you knew it was a bad idea to talk about her with him.

You took a few steps back just for Damiano to grab at your arm, without putting strength, just like a few months ago, to stop you in front of him. You turned your face away from looking at his eyes, feeling as the tears run down your cheek. You'd never be able to face him, this situation was only proving that to you even more.

“Please, Y/N. Just tell me what I need to do. I will do anything for you to talk to me again. I need you, you know that. The past few weeks have been a mess without you around. Even little my mom misses you. I’d do anything to have you back like before.” He was about to cry, his eyes shone with tears and it was painful to watch. He could do anything for you to stay; except what would make you stay. Unfortunately, it didn't depend only on his good will.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” you said in a lack of air, signaling the space around you with your finger. “But this, this is too much. It kills me to have to be close to you or to be close to things or people that remind me of you, seeing someone else with you doesn't help at all. I still think about the fact that we slept together... I can’t just forget it ‘cause it meant so much to me and to you, to you? it was nothing.” You were out of breath, you just wanted to cry in peace, put everything out until there was nothing left.

He released his hands of you, his face red and damp. It wasn't going to be easy for either of you. Time wouldn't matter; it wouldn’t change a thing because whenever you looked at him you’d wonder about how things could have been like if he had chosen you.

He whispered one more time that he was sorry, then let you go. He could have stopped you, but it's not like he knew what to do anymore.

He watched as you walk out without even looking back.

——-

You went through the party walking fast, avoiding acquaintances and questions about why you were like that. Your body was heavy as well as your conscience. Outside the house the street was empty, the streetlights illuminated the sidewalk and along with the silence of the street you felt invited to sit there. You brought your knees close to your body, trying to breathe calmly. Pulling the air in, and then releasing it in a normal way. Your heart was beating so fast that your whole body was agitated. You tried to stay still. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy when you saw someone walk out the front door of the house. You dropped your knees, trying to look decent, but gave up as soon as the person came closer to you and you saw that it was Victoria. She sat next to you, pulling you into a hug. You were happy that she went to you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, hugging her waist and hiding your face in the fabric of her shirt.

“Stop saying that you’re fine when you’re far from being fine, I won’t judge you sweetheart,” she comforted you, giving you a extra squeezing. You were far from being alright, but it helped, having someone there helped.

She placed her chin on top of your head, soothing you until your crying softened. She rubbed your back and whispered that it’d be okay.

“Did Damiano send you here?”

“No, darlin’. He said that you had talked, and then you had to leave, he didn't look well, I thought you wouldn't be either.”

“And then you decided to look out for me?” You laughed, still tucked in her warm arms.

“Yep, sounds like you need me, don’t you think?” She laughed too, causing the vibration of her chest next to yours make you feel taken in.

“Why’s love so painful?”

Victoria didn't answer, she was thoughtful for a few minutes, and then she stood up, holding out her hand for you.

“What?”

“I won’t be taking no as an answer, you’ll get in the car with me and we will do something, anything, drink milk shakes, fill up our bellies with pizza ‘til we can't take it anymore, or even rob a bank.” She held you by the waist, lifting you up for her. “Please,”

You didn't see why not to accept. There was nothing worse that could get even worse at the moment, maybe going somewhere would do you good. “Even rob a bank?” She nodded, pointing to where her car was.

A smile spreading across her lovely face as you realized you’d go anywhere she wanted with her. “Yes, even robbing a bank.”

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nojey · 3 years

Text

impostor

quackity x streamer!reader

genre: fluff, crack

word count: 2,312 (my most so far 😳)

warning(s): (y/s/n) = your streamer name, (n/n) = nickname, cursing

synopsis: having a flirty personality was your nature, but when you use that to make a certain boy in your among us lobby blush, where does that leave you?

today was the day you were going to play among us with some of your friends, and new people you haven’t met yet. you were beyond excited to meet new people because that meant new friends, and new friends means new people to stream with. you hadn’t been able to make new friends recently because people always thought your flirty personality was too much to deal with and gave them mixed signals whether you wanted something more than just being friends. you genuinely didn’t have those intentions and it was something you were lowkey insecure about. your friends had assured you that it wasn’t your fault and it was just your personality but the new people you wanted to be friends with told you otherwise.

you had been streaming for the past 30 minutes waiting for someone to send the code in discord. talking to your chat about the lobby and who would be in it, “um the only people i know for sure are gonna be in it is poki, rae, sykkuno, corpse, and bretman. but rae did tell me that there would be some minecraft streamers,” you said lifting your eyebrows in a suggestive manner. your chat knew about you simping for minecraft streamers and they were excited for you, some of them warning you not to fall for one because they’ll just break your heart and flirt with each other.

you heard the notification from discord coming from rae, sending the among us code and you immediately started up the game. waiting a few seconds, you put in the code and saw you were one of the last people to join. you entered the vc and heard them talking. “hi everyone!” you said in a cheery voice, smiling as they all replied with a greeting. “i’m (y/s/n), but you guys can call me (n/n)” you said. waiting for everyone else you weren’t familiar with to introduce themselves. everyone did and you figured out that you were playing with not only poki, rae, sykkuno, corpse, and bretman but also dream, george, and karl. “who else are we waiting for?” you asked, noticing the 9/10 on the bottom of the among us screen. as you asked that you heard a very loud scream coming from your headphones. you winced at the sound but soon heard a “i have arrived!” coming from the same voice that did that very loud screech. “nice of you to finally join us quackity,” karl said. you recognized the voice as soon as you heard him say ‘i have arrived’ and your eyes went big. you muted yourself in the discord call and talked to your chat. “holy shit chat, it’s quackity. like quackity the guy i’ve been SIMPING over for the past few months, holy shit.” you said, very surprised to see your favorite minecraft streamer in the same among us lobby as you.

you unmuted and heard rae say, “surprise shawty!” and you immediately knew that she planned this. “who are we surprising?” george asked. “(y/n) is a very big fan of one of you guys.” poki said in a teasing voice. “oh who is it?” dream asked, sounding very curious. “it’s actuall-” you cut sykkuno off. “ah ha ha, *cough* *cough* *cough*, you guys, let’s start the game. ah ha my chat has been waiting for like an hour now.” “(y/n) bitch, you trying to change the subject?” bretman asked you. “oo now i’m curious too.” quackity said. you started blushing and your chat started teasing you. “mm i have no idea what you’re talking about bret, i just don’t want my lovely chat to keep waiting for this game. they’ve been looking forward to it as soon as they knew you would be in it. you know? bretman rock? singer, songwriter, actor, actress, athlete, activist, a scientist on the motherfucking side, the star of crystal of the day, and a coconut connoisseur. the baddest bitch out.” you said, hopefully distracting him from the previous topic. “okay bitch, just because you know i’m the baddest in this lobby; you’re off the hook.” everyone started laughing and as soon as it died down, dream screamed, “let’s get this game started!” rae then started the game and your adventure began.

the screen in front of you displayed “crewmate” and you were off to do your first task. you met up with sykkuno at the swipe card task and said “hey sykkuno!” he got startled and said, “oh! hey (y/n), swiping your card too?” “yessir! you know sykkuno, my chat always tells me to tell you that you should stop covering your smile whenever you laugh or smile in general and i agree with them. you have a very nice smile and you should show the world your pretty face.” you smiled. he laughed awkwardly, “oh thanks, (y/n)! i’ll- i’ll think about that. well. i’m off to my next task, bye (y/n)!” you bid goodbye to him as well and made your way toward electrical to find dream there alone. “oo dream, did you just hop out of that vent?” you asked, very much joking because he was on the 1 2 3 task, quite far away from the vent. “(y/n). are you serious? i am so far away from the vent! and you’re gonna sus me?” he said, faking offence. “well i don’t know. you do look sus just standing there for so long.” you said, putting up with the bit you guys were doing. “well what if you’re the one that hopped out of the vent? i had my task open and didn’t see you come in, why don’t you just kill me huh, (y/n)? kill me (y/n)!” you guys both started laughing and while you were in your fit of laughter, a body was called.

“oo what are you guys laughing about?” george asked. “oh nothing. dream was just peer pressuring me to kill him.” he laughed even harder and said, “i was not peer pressuring you! you were sussing me and i was just sussing you just as much!” you laughed a little more and commented, “you know dream, you have a really pretty voice, it’s very comforting.” “oh my god! is dream the guy you’re a big fan of?” karl asked, thinking he made the biggest discovery on earth. “it actually isn’t” poki said, making karl quiet down.

“anyways. who the fuck killed bretman?!” you asked, lowering your voice to sound more intimidating and finally looking at the screen to see bretman dead. your friends started laughing and corpse said, “i last saw him in o2 with quackity.” which made you a little embarrassed but you kept up with your act. “quackity, i swear to god if you killed the baddest bitch in this lobby you’re dead first whenever i’m imposter.” faking the same deep voice. quackity had started staggering his breath into his mic but finally let out, “i left him there and went to comms, it wasn’t me i swear!” and started to fake cry which made you let out a rambunctious laugh. “okay, okay. i believe it.” you said, still giggling a bit. “the thing is, i found his body in o2 and you were the last to see him, quackity.” rae said, still sussing quackity. “well, where was everyone?” you asked, hoping to get some sus off of him. “i know dream was with me in electrical.” sykkuno was in cafeteria, george and karl were in reactor, rae was obviously in o2 where she found bretman’s body, corpse was in lower engine, quackity in comms and poki was in admin. none of you really had any other susses other than quackity but you all decided to skip since it was only one kill and someone definitely could’ve vented into nav or something.

you started humming the tune to jesus in la by alec benjamin while on your way to electrical to finish your download. you then ran into corpse and started a conversation with him. “hi hi corpse!” and he responded with his signature, “what up baby” you giggled and replied, “my chat goes crazy every time you say that,” he laughed and asked, “if i say it more often do you think they’ll donate?” you laughed very loudly and said, “if they do, i’ll give you half of the donos” you guys both laughed and walked out of electrical to admin together and stayed together majority of the round till the lights got called. “corpse we have to stick together and don’t get gotted.” you said. but somehow along the way to electrical you lost him and just went straight to fix the lights. once you got there, sykkuno was already standing at the light panel but not fixing the lights. “sykkuno, why aren’t you fixing the lights?” you asked him. “oh i was, i just got here, haha.” he said, playing it off. as soon as you hit the last light switch, a body was called and it was dream. you looked to see that corpse and george also died.

“you guys kill bretman then you kill corpse?! who is the one to come face my wrath!” you said with an angry face that chat would probably screenshot or clip. everyone in the lobby started laughing and you held your serious face. “i’m not joking. i was with corpse until the lights got called then we got separated in storage. once i find out which one of you killed them, you better sleep with one eye open.” everyone started laughing even harder and even you cracked a small smile hearing all of them. “well i hate to say it but, i did see sykkuno last with dream.” poki said. “wha-what do you mean? i was in electrical fixing the lights right (y/n)? and i left dream near the beginning of the round” sykkuno replied. “i only saw you once i got there and you were taking a long time to fix them.” you said, hoping that you caught one of the killers. “but i told you that i just got there a few seconds before you.” he said in disbelief, thinking telling you that would help him. “you could’ve lied, sy,” you said, pulling out the nickname you had for him. “what?! me lie to you? i would never.” he said. “mm, he’s lying! he raises his voice a bit when he lies.” rae said, pointing out one of his tales. “that is true.” poki said, agreeing with what rae pointed out. “i can’t believe you would lie to me, sy!” you said. “just for that, i’m voting you.” you continued. “but we’re on 7! we don’t vote on 7,” rae said. “oops.” you said.

karl, and poki all voted with you on voting sykkuno out, leaving rae and quackity voting to skip but he ended up getting sent out of the airlock because sykkuno voted himself, thinking everyone would skip. you had hoped you really did get one of the impostors.

by this time you ended up just going by yourself and finishing your tasks. you haven’t seen anyone so you decided to go to security to spy on cams. no one was passing through until you saw quackity and he entered security and you both started talking. “hi quackity!” you said, very enthusiastic to be talking to your favorite mc streamer. “hi (y/n). how’s it going?” he asked. “well i can’t find anyone, no one has passed by the cameras other than you.” you said with your voice dripping in disappointment. “do you think we should go out and look for someone?” you asked. “no, we should just stay here and talk! we haven’t talked at all the whole game.” he said. “mm that’s true. so did you finish all your tasks?” you asked him. “no, BUT i do have a question for you ms. (y/n).” he said. you heart started beating faster, very anxious to hear what he had to ask. you hummed for him to continue and he asked, “who’s the guy you’re simping for?” you felt like your heart stopped but what you didn’t see was that he was blushing and reading his chat. “chat! i’m not simping! (y/n) is just very attractive, okay? there’s nothing i can do about that!” he said making a ‘>:(’ face, thinking he was muted. “you think i’m attractive?” you asked very shyly. “i- uh- what do you mea- i have no- what?” he stuttered and immediately killed you out of embarrassment. your screen then showed “defeat” and you gasped very loudly.

“quackity! what the fuck? i fucking knew it was you sykkuno!” everyone started laughing and you heard a ding coming from discord. you saw it was a private message to you from quackity.

quackity: yeah, i do think you’re really attractive ;)

“quackity, you simp! i can’t believe you killed me because of that. you could’ve just told me. i think you’re really attractive too and i’d like to get to know you off stream.” you said, giving a big smile only your chat could see. “awe! (y/n)’s smiling really big! look at their stream!” rae cooed. you covered your face and heard a dono for $50 from quackity, how about we go on a date ;). “i’d like that quackity.” you said in the vc call. “you can call me alex.” he said, smiling and blushing, and his chat teasing him.

-------

after hearing you and dream flirt in the meeting, quackity was determined to kill dream out of jealousy. once he did he heard you and corpse in electrical, staying a distance away and following you both but close enough to hear you and see you with his impostor vision. he called lights and made sure you wouldn’t be able to see him once he killed corpse.

#quackity #quackityhq #quackity x reader #quackity x streamer!reader #quackity imagine #quackity fluff #quackity crack #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fluff #mcyt crack #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp fluff #dream smp crack #impostor quackity

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slightlymore · 4 years

Text

my soulmate loves wine

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

doyoung x fem reader

others: jaemin, jeno

genre: one-shot, soulmates au, enemies? to lovers, romance, smut, fluffy tones, phone chat (there are pics of the conversation)

warnings: tarot readings, alcohol, swearing, insults, explicit sex scenes (oral f and m, penetration, protected and unprotected - seriously, have unprotected sex only with people you trust. if you will have unprotected sex with strangers, i will manifest in the room and besides it being absolutely embrarrassing for you, i will also smack your heads together and call you stupid - bondage, rough, spanking, hair pulling, spit swallowing, slight breeding kink, use of 'slut', dom doyoung, sub doyoung, overstimulation f and m, edging f and m, dry humping, wet humping, mouth fucking, cum swallowing, slight exhibitionism, f solo, m solo, phone sex), doyoung has a big cock too lmao (in all of my own personal readings I always get that my soulmate has a big cock for no reason and I thought it was a funny detail)

words: 17K

tag list: @seostudios @doyochii @doodlingpizza @eboyhyunjunreblogs @mina-is-babie @sorrywonwoo @peterrogers15 @delphiskpoporacle @waffletaeng @wownajaemin @shimyshimykoko @doyoung-onli @chxb03 @strawberrymilkandcigarettes @hyucksie @neonun-au @cumtrov3rsy

_____

January 1st 2:23 am

And if he's not my soulmate, I'd rather wander alone than touching someone else's skin, I'd rather walk this earth with no hand to hold and lift me from the ground. And if I have to heal from it and accept the universe's imposed call, I'd rather suffer from my eternally open wounds. I'll fight the stars and let them burn me, I'll let them laugh at my weakest state and I'd gladly make them erase my memory of ever existing in all of the infinite lives if I have to follow Fate.

Doyoung felt the golden letters on the book cover in front of him and raised his eyes when he heard the crystal curtain move.

“I wouldn’t open it if I were you.”

A middle-aged woman was smiling at him, walking towards the table Doyoung and Jaemin were sat at.

The room became even darker but a certain comfort engulfed Doyoung when she smiled.

“I’ve never seen a book with a poem on the cover instead of a title.”

“A dear friend of mine made it.”

Her expression was calm and peaceful when she eyed the book and put her hand on it, pulling it towards herself.

“It’s beautiful,” Doyoung looked at the worn bordeaux leather. “What’s inside?”

“I’m glad you like it. And that’s-,” she leaned in mysteriously, “-a secret.”

As she spoke, a little candle lit up between them and the boys both flinched.

“Wow,” Jaemin whispered.

Doyoung blinked at the woman then chuckled once, laughing mostly at himself for being so jumpy for no reason. That place was made to look creepy but he reminded himself that it was only a facade.

“I’m here for a reading.” Her gaze was piercing and Doyoung realized that she hadn’t stopped looking at him since she entered the room.

“There’s a certain resistance on your part.” Doyoung tried not to snort. “Well…” I don’t believe in these sorts of things, he wanted to say, but Jaemin suddenly laughed, slamming his palm on the table and making a decent amount of colourful stones jingle on the glass table.

Doyoung sighed. “Sorry, my friend is very drunk.”

“You’re also drunk as fuck,” the other pointed his finger to the first’s face, poking him in the nose as he couldn’t keep his balance.

The woman smiled kindly as if unbothered to suddenly have two obnoxious young men trying to get a reading at two in the morning. “This is going to be a love reading. We’ll see what the Spirit wants to tell you about your soulmate.” “Actually, I’m here for a general one? Like, I don’t know-,” Doyoung tried to find his words and looked at Jaemin. “Money and sex?” the younger one suggested before they could have another laughter fit for no apparent reason. The woman kept the corner of her lips lifted as she retrieved a beautiful tarot deck. “Would you blow on this please?” Jaemin tried to open his eyes. “Blow? Of course. Doyoung is good at blowing.” Doyoung hit him with the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up. We’ll get kicked out if you continue,” he whispered amused. Or at least he tried to whisper. The boys kept giggling for a few more moments then got serious as they eyed the spread of cards in front of them.

The woman nodded and smiled.

Doyoung blinked at the lady then at the cards.

"There's mystery and magic attached to this connection. The universe wants this to be a surprise. You’ve been manifesting a lot, haven’t you?”

The young man felt suddenly very awake.

“Uhm, no.”

“It’s okay if you’re not honest with me. The Spirit can see your true feelings. It’s saying that if you needed a confirmation that this is real, then here it is.”

Doyoung stared at her nail, tapping at the card and wondered how many years of training she needed to be able to read people like that since he was sure that that piece of paper could not be able to tell her anything.

Relaxing on his chair he tried to put on the most neutral expression ever then nodded.

Okay, it meant. Go on.

“King of cups. Your soulmate is very in touch with their emotions. They’re going to teach you how to open up more since it’s difficult for you to express what you’re feeling.” Doyoung tightened his lips before he could wrongfully deny it. On his left, Jaemin was already sleeping with his head on the table.

_____

January 1st 2:23 pm

"Will we know right away that we're each other's soulmate?"

The Lady smiled and nodded at your widened and curious eyes.

"You have an intense soul connection. Also, you’ll know right away because sex-,” You gulped. “-is going to be the best you’ve ever had in your whole life. He’s a very fiery person and is quite domineering, I can tell it from the King of swords. He wants to dominate you in bed, maybe pull your hair? You love it. And he definitely loves your body, especially legs and chest. He worships you and he will put you on a pedestal.”

You felt your face warm up so you put your palms on your cheeks, trying hard to process all of that information.

The woman continued after a little giggle to herself. “He can come off a little cocky. He thinks he’s very good in bed thanks to his natural attributes but that’s just because he’s a little insecure. Maybe consider reassuring him that he’s making you feel good?”

Your mouth was dry and you automatically nodded.

“Wait, what do you mean with- uh-- with natural attributes?”

_____

Sometime in June

“Did you hear about the guy accused of stealing because it looked like he had something in his pocket while in reality, it was his 10 inches monster?” Jaemin asked before laughing like a supervillain, head thrown back on the couch cushions, splattering spit all over Doyoung who was sitting near him with furrowed eyebrows as he tried to find a good movie to watch.

“Yeah, it was me,” Doyoung replied with a monotone voice.

“Oh? Doyoung made a joke? I guess I might say that you’re-- cocky?”

Doyoung chuckled even if he tried not to.

“Okay, since you’re in a good mood-,” the other clapped his hands once. “No.” “You don’t even know what I wanted to ask you!” Jaemin whined. “I’m busy.” “You don’t do anything all day.” “I have to take care of my monster cock-” Jaemin slapped Doyoung’s mouth to cover it. “It hurts,” he mumbled.

“Listen. Next Sunday you’ll accompany me at the opening of a new winery. You don’t have to do anything besides be pretty and drink wine while I try to get between one of the associates’ legs.” “I knew it had to do with pussy.” “She invited me! It’s not like I can refuse. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I met her at that work meeting.” “You mean a few days ago?” “Love has no stages.” “Why do I have to come with you?” “I have two invitations. Drinking expensive wine for free? Hello? I’m doing you a favour," he spoke quickly and dramatically, clicking his fingers. “You need three invitations, for me and my co--ahi!” Doyoung giggled after Jaemin smacked him with a cushion.

_____

You had no idea you’d be having backseat sex that day and honestly, you felt highly unprepared.

Black ripped jeans and a leather jacket, the most basic outfit one guy could have on, yet you were salivating and for once it was not because of the pizza Jeno was handing you.

“Uhm, Houston?” he clicked his fingers in front of your face then looked into the direction you were looking.

“The guy on the right?” he asked without batting an eye. “How did you know?” you turned your head suddenly to face him and he put the slice of pizza inside of your open mouth. Then he rolled his eyes.

“He’s completely your type.” "I want to fuck him."

Jeno raised one eyebrow and you suddenly realized what you've just said.

"No. I meant-," "Hey! Guy with the rabbit mask!" Jeno suddenly yelled at the group of boys sitting on the grass in front of you. "What the fuck are you doing? Are you stupid?" you pulled his arm down. "My friend here said that she wants to f-," you slammed a hand on his mouth before he could finish. "I'm going to kill you," you whispered as Jeno started to giggle.

The Rabbit boy looked at you for a little while, tilting his head to the side, but then turned his back to you. He probably didn't hear anything and thought that you were all drunk.

“What the fuck was that?” you whispered.

Jeno sighed. “Y/N. You’re too shy. If you want to fuck a guy just go and do it."

You scoffed. “I’m too shy? I am not shy. I can fuck whoever I want.” “Yeah? Then fuck the Rabbit.”

You crossed your arms on your chest and put your tongue in your cheek.

“Can’t do it huh?” Jeno teased you. "I can. And I will." "I bet you can't." "I bet I will."

_____

“I’ll be honest with you. I’m here because of a bet.” The Rabbit had a gulp of beer as if girls with a Moon mask approached him with bet talk every day. Then he giggled.

“Sorry, your mask is ridiculous.”

You rolled your eyes even if he couldn’t see it.

Okay, he was a douche. Did you still want to fuck him though? Yes.

“What’s the bet about?” he inquired.

You straightened your lips in a tight line, the sound of your pulse almost audible in the silence of the parking lot.

“MyfriendsaidthatIwouldn’tbeabletofuckyoubecauseI’mshyandIwanttoprovetohimthatI’mnot.”

You spitted everything out thanks to the gigantic amounts of wine you had that night and found yourself panting a little when you were done. A little voice inside your head was screaming that it was dangerous and highly inappropriate for you to behave like that but you shrugged internally and hit it in the face.

“What?” the dude asked after a beat.

You sighed. “MyfriendsaidthatIw-” “Okay, okay,” he raised his palms, “hold up. Talk slowly? Your friend what?” “Myfriendsaid-” “Can you just talk slowly, please?”

“Nevermind,” you turned your back to him and walked away.

“Mooney, come back here.”

You stopped. “How did you just call me?”

The guy straightened his back and laughed under his mask. “If you want to fuck me, at least try and seduce me first.” “Aren’t you already under my spell if you’re so eager to keep going on with this conversation?” you found yourself saying. He shrugged. “I’m just bored. And don’t you want to win that bet? I guess you’re actually shy and your friend was right.” You scoffed. “I’m not gullible. You won’t make me do things only because you told me that I can’t.” “You’re here doing a thing only because your friend told you that you can’t. How is that not being gullible?” “It’s not being gullible if I’m here with that as an excuse when in reality I want to fuck you on the backseat, Rabbit.”

You couldn’t see his face but you knew he was smiling as he opened the car’s door and with a dramatic gesture he invited you in.

You walked in front of him slowly, asking yourself what the fuck you were actually doing, and he was quick to follow you inside.

It was dark and warm and you decided to lie to yourself that the trembling sigh that escaped your lips was because you’ve been feeling cold before and not because you felt the Rabbit’s hands on your waist. You let him pull you in his lap and his palms slowly brushed your goosebumpy thighs first, then your torso, hovering over your breasts before they could grab your mask and take it away. You were breathing through your mouth and you desperately needed to see his expression upon seeing your face. With trembling fingers, you pulled the little white rabbit down and his eyes made an appearance first forcing you to inhale sharply. Masks slipping on the side, you both took in the view of each other. He did not speak a word and you didn’t either.

“Do-,” you started unsurely, “do we know each other? Have we met before?”

He blinked at you and you could tell he was as confused as you were. “I don’t think so,” he whispered and you finally realized how close he was.

Like a switch, when you moved he moved as well and you roughly hit your mouths together, his hands cupping your ass and your fingers curling in his hair. It was so fast and almost painful the way you embraced each other that you wondered just how horny some wine could make you become. He grunted as you suddenly bit his neck and just that sound made your blood boil. You knew how and where to touch him and when his fingers got underneath your dress it seemed like he knew your weak spots as well. You let go of his neck and grabbed his head as your nipples disappeared inside his mouth. His lips were cold just like his touch and it made you shiver.

_____

Doyoung noticed you the exact moment you walked onto the lawn.

Your legs were bare and he wondered why Jaemin dragged him to such a weird party.

“Just buy whatever,” the younger said behind a black ominous mask while examining himself in the mirror.

Doyoung hummed pensively and grabbed the white Rabbit.

“I wanted that one too but since I’m going to see the associate lady tonight again, I thought that something less stupid would be better,” commented Jaemin.

“So you think this is stupid?”

“It goes well with your vibe. Buy it,” he wiggled his eyebrows and for once Doyoung just sighed and shrugged.

“Ah come on, why are you not in a good mood tonight? We’ll have free food and alcohol tonight then free food and wine tomorrow.”

“I really don’t feel like coming. It makes no sense to throw a party before a party. I can’t believe you tricked me into coming to two parties.”

It was Jaemin’s turn to shrug. “These people have been travelling through all of Europe and shit. It’s their version of an afterparty. Like a rave. But it’s before the actual party and it’s on grass, with masks on and at 5 pm. You have to come.” "So there's going to be classical music and tea?"

The cashier ringed their items quickly and Jaemin took out his wallet to pay. “Why do you even get invited to all of these events?” Doyoung went on and added a pack of mints too. Jaemin smirked. “She likes me a lot, huh? Can’t wait to taste that sweet juicy pussy.” The cashier cleared her throat and was quick to dismiss them with her rightfully dry “have a good day”. “I just think she’s trying to gather customers for her wine. Don’t get your hopes up.” “She’ll want to gift me her wine after I’ll make her boun-”

Doyoung was so ready to accept an evening of him wandering around a party full of strangers talking in god knows what languages while his friend got it wet that when you pressed yourself on his crotch, nibbling at his neck and exhaling so deeply, he felt lightheaded.

You were with another guy and Doyoung watched you sit down on the cushions behind his group of friends. Your nude legs got even nuder as your white dress shifted up exposing your thighs. A sudden urge to spread them invaded his mind and he had to do something with his hands instead.

“Hey, guy with the rabbit mask!”

Doyoung turned his head around right in time to see you smack the dude on the face.

“Did that guy just tell you that his friend wants to fuck you?” Jaemin inquired with a giggle. Doyoung wondered how Jaemin could hear something like that at such a distance.

“I guess?” he agreed though. “And I want to fuck her too,” he heard himself add.

Jaemin’s mask looked as shocked as his expression underneath it.

“Why are you so bold all of a sudden? No, I mean, yes! Fuck her.”

Doyoung shook his head to get rid of the imaginary fog. “I was joking. Why are you getting so worked up?”

But when Jaemin finally disappeared suddenly, presumably to drink some wine with his lady, Doyoung could physically feel your eyes on his back as he walked down the hill towards the parking lot.

Your steps were light and you’d stop when he’d stop, unsuccessfully hiding behind the tall bushes of roses.

As he unlocked his car with a high toned beep, he leaned on the side of it and waited for you to approach him. A giggle left his chest when he saw you trying to find him in the middle of all of those cars.

“I am here,” he announced and you jolted.

Turning around you eyed him and stopped in place then took a timid step, then another until only a few separated you from him.

“I’ll be honest with you. I��m here because of a bet.”

You looked airy just like the moon on your mask and he thought you were adorable swinging your body weight from one foot to another like that.

“Sorry, your mask is-,” adorable, “-ridiculous. What’s the bet about?”

“My friend said that I wouldn’t be able to fuck you because I’m shy and I want to prove to him that I’m not.”

You were so bold that Doyoung felt his air miss from his lungs.

You slurred your words on purpose and he tried hard to pretend that he didn’t understand just to hear you say that you wanted him to fuck you again.

“What?” he asked.

You sighed. “MyfriendsaidthatIw-” “Okay, okay,” he raised his palms, “hold up. Talk slowly? Your friend what?” “Myfriendsaid-” “Can you just talk slowly, please?” “Nevermind.”

Fuck.

“Mooney, come back here.”

The air rustled with energy and he completely missed everything besides “I want to fuck you on the backseat” part and he had no idea how you got into the car and how he got you on his legs.

But now there you were, soft in his arms.

And when you took away your mask his head got drilled by a thousand questions. Your eyes, mirroring his expression as you slid his mask down, told him that you were thinking the same thing. Like two magnets you collided in a heated kiss and your scent was so familiar that Doyoung sighed when you let his lips go to breathe.

_____

Finally, finally, finally, your mind was chanting as the Rabbit moulded your body with his hands.

Your mind became mush so quickly that it was honestly embarrassing when you realized that you were riding his hardened cock. His lips on your neck seemed amused and after a moment he took away his fingers from your body, leaning back and watching you from under heavy lids.

You bit your lower lip and stopped with a certain difficulty, the burning sensation between your legs already boiling inside your veins.

"Go on."

His voice was sultry and raspy and your body reacted to it as if under a spell.

Your fingers on his shoulders deepened their hold and you closed your eyes for a brief moment before opening them again.

"Come on. Go on. Doesn't it feel good?"

He cooed, dragging one single finger across your bust, between your breasts and down on your stomach. His eyes wouldn't let a single expression of yours escape them.

"It would feel better if you fucked me."

The light in his irises twinkled.

"But I like to see you like this," he said before leaning in and letting his breath caressing your ear. "Desperate."

His voice was like a hiss and your skin shivered with goosebumps. You felt his open mouth on your nude shoulder, slowly going towards your clavicle and you extended your neck up to welcome him.

"Go on," he ordered again and your hips snapped, rolling on him, feeling the way your panties got pulled up as he slid his hands under your dress and twirled the sides around his fingers. It was frustrating as intoxicating and soon enough the windows of his car became misty from your heavy breaths.

"I hate this," you whined and he chuckled. "I can see that."

Almost completely lost in your foggy mind you jolted at a sudden snap and you stopped your motions just to see him slide your panties from between your legs and throw them to the front.

With a single pull, he pushed your now raw pussy on his clothed cock while his hands spread your ass, guiding your movements.

"Fuck," you gasped, feeling the rough material on your sensitive skin and it didn't take you a lot to go over the edge with fingers curled inside his hair and mouths open against each other. He drank your shaking moans, then without giving you a second to remember where you were, his arms wrapped your torso and pushed you under his weight. Your feet stopped on the window as you yelped and you desperately wanted to call his name when you felt his tongue lap at your wetness. His fingers were tightly wrapped around your thighs and when you moaned a few times in a row, your back arching and your body squirming in his hold, he palmed your stomach and pressed you down again.

_____

You looked like every sex dream Doyoung has ever had.

Arms thrown around your head, chest rising and falling, your sweet whimpers and soft skin, it drove him crazy. Your thighs pressing on the side of his head felt like everything he has ever wanted but wasn’t aware of.

Mine mine mine all mine. A weird possession sentiment swept him away and when he looked up at your fucked up expression he felt like shivering. With a plop he let your clit go and kept pumping his fingers inside of you, curling them right where you wanted him to, kissing your navel, licking your under breasts, sucking the skin in until it probably hurt, then sucking on your nipples, and finally on your lower lip. He wanted to see your face when you’d cum all over his fingers and when you gasped, wrapping his torso with your arms and trying to hide your face into the crook of his neck, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. Your eyelids fluttered as he heard you swear multiple times and as he felt you clench so deliciously that he couldn’t wait to feel it around his aching cock instead. He wanted to rest a bit, maybe put his head on your soft chest and listen to your heartbeats but you were a stranger and you were hooking up in his car. So he sat on his knees between your legs instead, panting as if he were the one who just came, and he let his eyes trail on your naked body, licking his lower lip when he reached your wet core. He would have wanted to smear all of that on himself but he reached his jacket instead and took a condom out.

“Why do boys always carry a condom with them? You never know when you’d end up fucking?”

“Actually, when we carry a condom we never fuck and when we don’t have it we have the opportunity to fuck.”

“Well, today you’re lucky,” you smirked and he loved the way you tried to hide away your embarrassment with banter.

“Do you still want to do this?” he palmed your knee.

“Yes,” you nodded. “You didn’t cum.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Do you want it?”

Doyoung wondered what kind of expression he had on to make you light up so much.

You bit your lower lip and sat up suddenly, getting on your knees as well and turning around with a certain difficulty.

“Yes,” you said again and bent over.

Doyoung choked at the view and wondered what country he had saved in his previous life to deserve all of that.

_____

You dreamt about opening a winery probably since you tasted wine for the first time.

You loved it.

Sour, sweet, bitter, flowery, fruity, still and frizzy, you loved it all.

People thought you were crazy and no one supported you until you met your best friend in university.

“Are you kidding? I’d love to open a winery with you.”

The classroom was well lit and she looked like an angel against the sunny windows.

You looked at her with wide eyes. “Really?”

She hit your arm playfully. “Of course! I love wine and that sounds like a very cool idea.”

“Look, I’m actually very serious about this so if you’re saying this just to-,”

She took your hands and looked into your eyes. “Me too. We’ll do it. I promise.”

Now, years later you were looking around at the freshly painted venue and couldn’t believe your eyes.

You did it.

Tall ceilings and shelves full of your blood and sweat, you walked around slowly, one finger to gently tap on the various displayed bottles.

“Hey, hey, no touching. We’ve cleaned them up and they have to shine.”

Your friend appeared on your side and you smiled. Her dress was sleeveless and you made a face touching her arms.

“Have you been working out girl? What are these?”

She snapped her head down to look at herself. “I guess… uhm, it’s all of the exercises… uhm that I do.”

You took her sudden panic for embarrassment and cackled. “With the party guy?”

“Who?”

“Jaemin you said?” “Oh yeah! Yeah, we’re quite active, aha.”

“Well, to get those arms you might have done a lot of hardcore BDSM.” You laughed but your friend looked rather mortified.

“Aw, come on,” you gently elbowed her. “I also fucked the guy from yesterday,” you added to make her feel better. And she lit up so much at the news that she almost knocked over the bottles in front of you.

“And you tell me now? How did it go?” “Well, I guess. I don’t really want to think about it though. I don’t think I’m into hookups.”

_____

Doyoung didn't like hookups but when he stepped inside the winery's main hall and saw your legs again and the way your ass was wrapped in that short dress he desperately wanted to bury his cock in it.

"Not bad, huh?" Jaemin smiled at the waiter welcoming them with glasses of wine, before looking up at the nicely decorated venue.

"Yeah, not bad at all," Doyoung murmured as you turned around and he considered fucking your breasts too.

Then he cleared his throat as he took a glass of wine as well, feeling his neck warming up. He looked around as he sipped, suddenly conscious of people as if they could read his horny mind. At that moment, with his body acting up as if possessed, he wondered if the wine didn’t have some sort of aphrodisiac in it.

“Do you also feel a little funny?” Doyoung placed down the wine and reached for his tie to loosen it up.

Jaemin glanced over him and promptly looked down. “Uh-oh. Do we have an emergency?” he started to laugh and Doyoung closed his eyes briefly before opening them and turning around towards the buffet.

“Heh, did that girl do something to you? You were so upset when she left without saying anything.”

“It was just a hookup,” Doyoung murmured trying to understand what kind of food he was staring at.

“An amazing hookup if you get like this upon seeing her.”

“Not for her I guess.”

“So you are upset. Cupid worked hard last night,” he elbowed his friend.

“Give me a break. You’re also crushing on your lady.”

“Also? Kim Doyoung, are you crushing on the winery girl?”

He shook his head quickly putting a pastry in his mouth to have an excuse to not speak. Jaemin lightly hit him and Doyoung hit him back like kids in third grade when suddenly the lights became dimmer and you spoke into a mic.

_____

“Hey, have you seen Jeno?” you asked your friend after finishing your introductory discourse and let people finally get wasted as they wanted to. “Who?” “Jeno? The guy I’m always hanging out with? He should have been here by now but I don’t see him anywhere.”

Your friend made a perplexed face and you sighed. “You’re right. You’ve never met him before. You’re both my best friends so I always forget that you’ve never seen each other.”

“Well, I kinda know how he looks like, so if I see him then-,”

"So you stole my money,” a sudden voice at your back interrupted you and you turned around to lock eyes with none other than the Rabbit.

He was so good looking that you felt the urge to kiss him, yet his mocking face made you so irrationally mad that you felt like slapping him too.

You put your hands on your hips and raised your chin. "Proof?"

You were still panting last evening trying hard to stop shaking from your third orgasm in a row. The Rabbit did a lot of things to you and you wondered why you didn’t hook up with strangers more often if that was the outcome. His wallet was on the seat in front of you and for a split second, you smiled wondering if he carried a family photo in it. His back looked very broad as he stood outside the car and presumably tried to make himself pee with a half-hard penis but probably failing. A sudden voice startled you and Doyoung replied to it. You quickly pulled down your dress and eyed the ripped panties on the steering wheel. Shit. You tried to grab them but the dude talking to Doyoung took a few steps closer so you retreated. "Fucked her good just like you planned?" Your face scrunched in a pout and you suddenly found yourself very upset. Doyoung didn't reply anything but you weren't sure that he didn't make a face. It was a good night. You had fun and a good-looking dude made you cum. You fucked him good just like you planned too. Then why did you feel a little used? Maybe you weren’t acquainted with the hookup culture, or maybe deep down you hoped that the sudden attraction you felt for the Rabbit was magical, but suddenly you felt very weird and a wave of disgust invaded you.

He was definitely not your soulmate and you should just get out of there.

You opened the door slowly on your side, quietly looking over your shoulder to make sure that they wouldn’t hear you. Feet on the ground you eyed the wallet again and you opened it. Not to check his family photo as you previously wanted to, but to get all of his cash. You swallowed a chuckle and ran away up the hill back to the restaurant’s garden.

He scoffed. "You’re a terrible thief. I make you cum and you steal from me?"

"You look like a rich guy. You deserved it. Also, you ripped my panties."

"And you liked it."

You clenched your jaw. "It wasn't even good sex."

His jaw's muscles flinched too. "You probably couldn't walk properly."

"Yeah, because of the cramped car not because of your cock."

"I think you have a loss of memory all of a sudden. Do I have to remind you how my cock feels like?"

"Sure. Then I will be able to say to your face that it doesn’t feel good.”

_____

"Fuck, it feels so fucking good."

Dragging you by the wrist, Doyoung shoved you in the first room he found and pressed you against the cold wall.

"I can't believe I'm about to have sex in the rosés showroom," you spoke with a breathy voice and when Doyoung pressed his open lips on yours you realized that you didn’t even know his name.

One thing is hooking up with a dude in his car while drunk, another thing is choosing to fuck him consciously on the opening of your new business and completely sober.

Although, when he started to kiss your jaw and neck, his tongue slowly creeping out and tickling your nerves, your mind felt so hazy that you wondered if you somehow had something to drink already and couldn’t remember.

Didn’t you hate the guy just a few moments ago?

“Do you really have to wear these dresses and drive me insane?” he whispered on your lips as his hands pulled up the dress in question.

You wanted to reply with something smartass but honestly, you chose that dress with him in mind.

Somehow, while browsing your closet for the big day, your mind could not stop thinking about the Rabbit boy. Your mixed feelings towards him confused you and you'd go on weird tangents of complete hatred and high adoration thinking about his face between your legs.

Certain that he’d come to the opening too, you carefully wore each piece of clothing you had, looking at yourself in the mirror and imagining he was the one looking at you through your eyes. Would he like the split on your thigh? Or would he like the way the dress accentuated your breasts more? Without realizing your hands were on your bust going up slowly, gently kneading your soft skin, cupping your boobs and flicking your nipples. Then one moved on your stomach, then on your thigh and just like that you started to moan.

And you were moaning at that moment too as the Rabbit lightly caressed your clit with the tip of his cock. You pushed your hips towards him to get more and he pushed you back into the wall, one hand reaching for your mouth and slipping the thumb on your tongue. You twirled it around his digit and sucked, lightly choking when he reached farther and choking again when you finally felt his cock fill you up too.

“You have to be quiet, Y/N.”

Your name on his lips made you tremble.

He probably heard it during the welcoming discourse or read it on the pamphlets and the fact that he knew it and you didn’t know his one, made you feel vulnerable in a pleasant way.

Or maybe it was the way his hand gripped the softness of your thigh, keeping it up on his hip, or maybe his own hips pushing inside of you that made you feel like turning into mush.

“Will you be quiet for me or am I fucking you too good?” he took away his finger and you gasped for air, your whines getting louder.

“As I thought,” he mocked you. “It wasn’t even good sex, she said.”

You bit your lower lip and hid your face into the crook of his neck but he pulled you away, cupping your cheek. “You have to look at me. I want to see this pretty face when you cum.”

Your eyes fluttered as his cock basically decided to rearrange your guts and you dug your fingers into his shoulders with a teeth-gritted moan.

“Are you close, baby?” You nodded breathlessly, the sudden pet-name just making it impossible for you to not beg to make you cum.

“You want me to make you cum?”

You nodded again. “Gonna cum- so hard-,”

The Rabbit thrust a few times more into you and suddenly pulled out.

You gasped as if mortally offended but unable to move a muscle.

"I don't think so."

His smirk made you swallow your own spit and he held your waist when he took a step back after letting your leg down.

“Hey! Come on!”

Dragging you away just like before he made you walk towards the party hall. His iron grip made it impossible for you to just go away and finish yourself and honestly, it would have been quite pathetic.

You moved as if drunk, fingers visibly shaking and mind clouded in the middle of the crowd.

"Fuck, I'll make you pay for this."

He smiled at you and intertwined his fingers with yours before lifting both of your hands and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"Yes darling, I've already paid last time," he replied as a few curious people looked your way and saw just a random couple chatting peacefully.

You took a deep breath and tried to smile unbothered, imitating Doyoung's relaxed expression.

"It was just a joke. Do you want those couple of bucks back?”

He tilted his head to the side. “No. Let’s say I had paid you for your services.”

You disregarded him and opened your clutch, retrieving a few dollars. With a quick hand, you shoved them halfway inside Doyoung's pants making sure others didn't stare.

"Thank you for today’s fuck too then, slut."

_____

To say that it was easy for Doyoung to stop feeling you around his cock and pretend he wasn’t about to lose his mind when he couldn’t cum either, would be the biggest lie of the universe. But your frustrated expression, trembling limbs and glossy eyes made it all worth it.

“Where have you been?”

Jaemin handed him a glass of white wine and Doyoung took it absentmindedly. When he brought it to his mouth and had a sip he almost spit it back inside.

“What the fuck is this?”

Jaemin chuckled. “The winery’s speciality.”

“This is disgusting.”

“I had a whole bottle of that yesterday so now I’m used to it.”

“Why is it so sour?”

Jaemin hit his shoulder lightly to bring his attention to something and when Doyoung raised his gaze he saw your furious aura staring at them from a few steps away.

“Maybe the lady behind the recipe is sour as well,” he joked. “I lied when I asked you where you’ve been. Saw you together just now. Did you not fuck her good enough?”

Doyoung smiled and took another sip of the wine, barely being able to not make a face for a second time. “I fucked her so good that now she’s mad.”

“From her expression, she doesn’t look very pleased with the experience. And in fact,” Jaemin added quickly, grabbing Doyoung’s arm since he got distracted by the red wine, “she’s probably seeking a better one.”

You were chuckling at some dude’s pick-up line and accepted to disappear with him out of Doyoung’s sight.

The sweet dessert wine he tasted felt as sour as the first one.

_____

“Is the person I’m thinking about my soulmate?” “You already know the answer to that.”

You bit your lower lip unsure.

“What do you want me to say?” the lady smiled. “Yes or no.” “Why don’t you have faith?”

You leaned back in your chair and let your gaze fall on the decorations on the tarot reader’s desk. The little obsidian stones reminded you of the dude’s eyes and it made you irrationally angry.

You wanted to make him jealous.

You wanted him to come up to you and grab your hand or something and make the boring-ass guy that approached you to leave.

But he didn’t.

If he really were your soulmate, wouldn’t you both feel it? Were you just going crazy? Were you lonely enough that you weighed your every desire on him?

“I saw him just twice and I don’t even know his name,” you sighed, talking almost to yourself.

You probably unconsciously pouted because the Lady smiled kindly at you. She was no therapist but she gladly accepted to talk to you again after your first encounter.

“Does he match the description the cards gave you?”

“Well, he does have a very big cock, yeah,” you started. “Uhm, yes, it was that type of meeting,” you explained quickly before she could judge but the woman didn’t look unfazed. In fact, she was quite pleased to hear that.

“You think that meeting your soulmate is just seeing them and everything falls into place. But it’s harder than that. You still have to want it and you still have to work for the union. So many people missed the opportunity to get with their soulmate because they didn’t work hard enough.”

“Well, shouldn’t this be meant to be or something? Even if I make mistakes?”

The Lady tilted the head to the side and for a split second you felt as if talking to a lost best friend. “We have a lot of choice in life. Everything is out there ready for you and you will get help but only if you have faith it will happen.”

_____

“You again?” he asked, fakely annoyed.

You’ve always brushed off your mom’s words.

“At least take your sweatpants out of your knee-high socks.” “It’s just the convenience store at the corner, mom. It’s not like I will meet my soulmate tonight at 10 pm.”

But you actually met him and it was terrible.

The packs of instant ramen in your hands trembled a little as the Rabbit dude passed one hand through his hair waiting for a normal human reaction from you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Buying groceries for dinner,” he explained then eyed your snacks. “You too, I see.”

You tried to not let his subtle mockery get to you. “Yeah but why in this store in particular?”

“You’re wondering if this is fate?” he giggled.

But actually, Doyoung was the first to wonder if it was fate.

He has never really thought of the Lady’s words in detail, nor he believed in any of it, but when he first saw you descending the hill with your moon costume as if you were the actual moon, his mind independently carved the thought of how nice it would be for you to be his soulmate.

“I live in this neighbourhood and I assume you do too since you’re dressed like this,” he let his eyes fall and he looked at your stained pyjama pants.

A wave of heat passed through your whole body and for the first time, it wasn’t pleasure.

Your real soulmate would have never said that.

Embarrassed, you cleared your throat.

“Well, see you around then.” Turning on your heels, you didn’t wait for him to greet you back.

“Did that guy make you cum?”

You stopped so suddenly that the first two packs of ramen fell to your feet. You grunted and tried to bend but it was impossible to grab them without making the others fall too. With the corner of your eye, you saw the rabbit boy’s hands retrieving your stuff and when he got up again you felt his skin on the back of your hands as he pulled the remaining packs from you and let them fall in his cart. “Thank you.”

“Answer my question.”

You gulped but put on a brave face.

“This is not a conversation to have in the condiments aisle.” “Then come to my apartment.”

The intensity in his voice made your heart beat faster and then you blinked at his back as he turned around the cart and made his way towards the register.

“Wait, my ramen!”

He didn’t acknowledge you and greeted the cashier good evening. You awkwardly stood beside him as they beeped all of his fancy groceries.

“Uhm-,” you extended your hands to get your ramen but they beeped that too without batting an eye and the rabbit bagged everything in a few seconds.

“I- I could have- why-?” you followed him. “Now I have to pay you back.” “You gave me enough money last time.”

You crossed your arms on your chest as Doyoung placed the bags inside his car's trunk.

“That was for-,” you started but stopped realizing that you were about to talk about sex on a busy street in front of your corner grocery store.

He smiled. “Yeah?”

“Give me my ramen now.”

“Get inside,” he indicated with his head and without missing a beat he got behind the wheel.

“Why do you even drive if you live in the neighbourhood?” You entered and sighed, trying to put on the seat belt. “The groceries are heavy.” “Do you even lift?” “I love lifting women but not groceries.” “You lift other women and I can’t get a guy to make me cum without you asking me questions about it?”

Doyoung looked at you with a little smile as you stopped at the red sign. “Does the thought of me with other women make you upset or am I imagining things?” “Does the thought of guys making me cum make you upset?” you retorted. “Yes.”

You choked on air and the movement of the car starting again made your body press back on the seat. You didn’t expect that.

“Then why did you make me leave with him?”

Your voice got tiny and you hoped he didn’t actually hear you because at the same moment you realized that it was a little embarrassing. But his sudden glance told you that he did. His gaze returned towards the street and his adam apple travelling up and down his throat told you that he didn’t know what to say.

“Why did you leave with him?” he eventually asked.

It was your turn to not speak.

Not in a million years you’d admit to a stranger you wanted to make him jealous. A stranger that put his dick in you twice, but a stranger nevertheless.

“We just talked a bit. I was bored.” “So I guess he didn’t make you cum.” “I don’t do hookups,” you said before realizing what you’ve just said. “I mean-,” you looked at him and he blinked back. Fuck. You told the hookups guy that you didn’t do hookups.

“I mean, without being attracted to the person a lot. And that dude was not attractive,” you tried to explain fighting the urge to hide your face away.

“Thank you. I’m also crazily attracted to you.”

The car’s air became a little heavier and you thought that if you touched it with a single finger it would buzz as if made of electricity.

The walk to the apartment complex was almost urgent. His hands didn't leave your body once when you reached the elevator as if he suddenly forgot what personal space was and when you got to his door he firstly slammed you against it, hands quick to get under your shirt.

"Hey," you eyed the elevator's lights behind his back as he started to kiss your neck. "Someone's coming." "Let them come." The skin he sucked in made your eyes flutter and you whined feeling his fingers so close to where you needed them but so far away. "No, seriously. I think they're going to stop here." Doyoung hummed unbothered but you felt his hand press the code behind your back. Right when the elevator doors opened and you made eye contact with a cute little old lady, the door behind you opened too and you yelped falling backwards. Doyoung was quicker though and he held your waist, pulling you back into the kiss and closing the door with his heel.

Shoes off and no time wasted, you were suddenly bent over some sort of furniture and your pants got pulled down.

A single silent gasp left your mouth when you felt Doyoung's lips on the back of your thighs and when his fingertips grated at your sides pulling your panties down to your knees you started to pant. His hot breath tickled your pussy and you shifted in his hold. Doyoung's hands grabbed your ass to keep you in place and slapped one of your cheeks when he licked up a stripe between them.

You whined once and put your head down and closed your eyes, fingers mindlessly grabbing whatever Doyoung kept on the cabinet. When he pushed his fingers inside, your back arched and his cologne fell to the side with the cap open. The sudden scent of it made you even wetter and Doyoung hummed appreciatively with his mouth full.

"It feels so good," you whined again, imperceptibly grinding on him, brain not understanding when you got so horny all of a sudden.

"Please please please make me cum this time," you begged, looking behind you and seeing his hands spreading you all out for him before his fingers could find spots inside of you that you weren't aware of having.

"I kinda wish you'd beg some more," you heard the note of amusement in his voice.

His hands didn't stop though and before you could form any words your whole body contracted and lifted itself on the tiptoes, knees buckling and head light. Doyoung's airy breath met your spine and he held you in his arms to prevent you from slipping on the ground, kissing your back up slowly until meeting the shoulders.

"Good girl," he brushed your ear with his lips and you remained with your eyes closed, breathing heavily and when he made you turn around, you felt your body weak as if it was made of jello. He pulled you towards himself and you heard his chuckle buzz inside of his chest. In a second he threw you on his shoulder and you let out a little cry, your limbs dangling around him.

"I didn't know you were this strong."

He walked a few steps and turned left inside a dark corridor. You tried to look around but you barely noticed anything before he gently placed you down to sit on the bed.

"You don't know a lot of things about me."

When you raised your head to meet his face you smiled tiredly.

"I don't even know your name."

He tilted his head to the side amused. "Doyoung."

"Doyoung," you repeated, feeling the sounds on your tongue.

It felt very right.

Then his eyes fell on your naked legs and you sucked the air in, suddenly rolling in his bed, one piece of blanket to cover you up.

Doyoung, still standing by the bed, put his hands on the hips and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm here with my pussy all out. That's so embarrassing,” you explained.

"Yeah. I've just seen it up close just one minute ago."

"I'm having post nut clarity," you added, voice muffled and only the top of your head poking out the impromptu burrito.

"Well, I'm not having any post nut clarity since I didn't nut, so to me, it's not embarrassing."

"Oh my God you're right!" you eyed his crotch and sat up.

"It's alright. I didn’t plan to do anything else anyway. Just wanted to cook you dinner actually since I’ve already eaten," he sat near you chuckling and took off his shoes. "My mom would hit me in the head if she knew I walked up to the bedroom with these-," but then he gasped softly as you placed a kiss to his nape. Your arms wrapped his torso in a back hug just as your legs did with his waist, draping them in his thighs. His hands automatically started to palm your knees as you made your way towards the base of his neck.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he whispered as to stop you.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt very quickly and you lifted it, loving the way it ruffled his hair after you threw it somewhere on the floor. Having his bare back in front of you made you lose track for a moment and when you touched his chest you realized it was the first time that you actually saw him naked.

“We don’t need them for what I want to do to you,” you murmured.

He breathed in shakily. “Well, we’re responsible adults so you have to know that I also don’t do hookups so I’m completely clean but if you don’t want to--ah shit-,” he almost whined when you let your hand down his abs to palm his crotch slowly.

He turned so cute all of sudden that your tummy did backflips as you kissed his jawline.

“Are you saying that you want to fuck me raw?” you whispered amused.

His cock twitched under his pants and he bit his lower lip.

“Does the thought turn you on, Doyoung? Feeling me around you, soft and wet until you can’t take it anymore? Huh?” You cooed, pouting your lips as you pronounced his name, savouring it on your tongue.

His breathing increased and you wondered how he still kept it all together.

“Cumming inside of me? Having your warm cum spill out-,”

He turned around suddenly and you let him push you down on the bed but only for a moment. The kisses you started to litter on his neck made his hold weaker and he threw his head into the pillow as you got on top of him. You kissed his chest slowly, then went down until you could finally pass your tongue on that single vein under his navel’s skin.

"I'm so on edge that I might cum only with a single touch," he breathed out and you smiled on his stomach at his honest side, whining a little when he slid his fingers into your hair as if to urge you to go on quicker.

"You should have told me," you sat on his thighs and slowly fumbled with his belt.

He bit his lower lip and watched the little show you put on for him.

"Well, now you know and you still want to torture me like this."

You lifted one corner of your mouth as you finally unbuttoned his pants.

"I think you deserve it, don't you think?"

He shook his head. "Not one bit. I've been good to you."

"Oh really? Then why don't you show me again what a good boy you can be and beg me to finally touch you?"

"You really think you can use my ways with me?"

You opened your mouth to reply but every word died in your throat as he reached down and pulled out his cock, pumping it up himself, a single shaking sigh of relief coming out of his mouth. "Shit-," he closed his eyes and pushed his head back, exposing his neck as his adam apple went up and down. You couldn't take your eyes off him and the sounds he started to make hit you right between the legs. His tip poked out of his fist as he fucked himself and for the first time in your life you were dying to suck a cock.

"Doyoung-," you breathed out but his hisses made you gulp, feeling your mouth dry at the sudden spurts of cum on his lower stomach.

"Shit," his chest rose and fell heavily and his eyes looked black underneath his heavy lids. Without being able to take it anymore you bent down and licked his tip sending shots of electricity through all of his body.

"Ah- Y/N-,"

You sucked his cock clean and, letting it out with a lewd pop, you smirked.

"Now you're going to take it."

And he took it well, cupping your head as it bobbed up and down, not without the most sinful sounds you've ever heard a man emit. As he placed his other hand on your cheek, you slid your own fingers down your stomach and reached your aching clit.

"Ride me?" he caressed your face with his thumbs and you looked up, basking in his fucked up expression.

With a wet sound, you let his cock out, licking his tip once to break the string of saliva attached to it and moved upwards on his body.

His hands were quick to grab your sides and when you started to grind on him he inhaled shakily, eyes piercing the way his shaft slid through your lips. Then he grabbed your shirt and roughly pulled it up, making you discard it in a second.

One hand to guide your ass and one hand to grope at your breasts and you were almost cumming again. And when he reached behind you and you felt his cock poke at your entrance you lost strength in your arms and leaned down on his chest, your breasts squeezed and your skin rubbing on each other when he started to thrust into you.

His hips' movements were deep and sharp and when you raised your bust enough for your nipples to rub on his chest he squeezed your ass and spanked it once making you moan loudly and fall back on him. So near to your orgasm, you dug your fingers into his arms not worrying about the little marks your nails left on his skin.

And then he stopped with a grunt.

You whined and opened your eyes to see him smirk.

"Fuck you, not again," you whispered breathlessly. "Yeah, fuck me."

And you bit your lower lip, lifting yourself up by putting your palms on his chest and started to bounce on his cock. Doyoung started to breathe with his mouth and he let his hands rest on his sides enjoying the way you were so desperately trying to chase your high.

Your thighs were burning and your mind was clouded but you didn't stop and when you started to call his name, Doyoung finally grabbed your waist again, taking the lead and finally sending you over the edge.

You finally cried out and pushed your face into the crook of his neck biting down on his skin as he kept going, not giving you a moment to breathe.

And when you heard him choke against your ear too, a string of profanities lingering in his lips you felt his hot cum fill you up, but getting slowly fucked back in with his last thrusts.

You remained like that both breathless for some time, his hands gently cupping your face to look at you. His eyebrows furrowed and he quickly dried your wet eyes.

"Are you okay? Was that too much?"

The concern in his voice made your heart swell and you shook your head.

"I'm feeling very good," you smiled and his expression relaxed a bit.

As he pulled out you felt his semen slide on your thigh and pool where your stomaches we're meeting.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Doyoung. I was just getting frustrated as always when I’m around you.”

His hands went up and down your back as if soothing your skin. “I love how my name sounds on your lips. It feels like I’ve somehow waited my whole life to hear it.”

You blinked a few times, the sudden sweet words so weird in his mouth that you raised your head to look at him.

He looked back as shocked as you.

"Wow, I feel so sticky," he changed the subject as you opened your lips to talk. You eyed the little buds of sweat on his forehead and imagined you looked as spent as him.

"Are you also having post nut clarity?" "Yes. Everything is clear." "What's clear?" "This was one of the best nuts of my life and I want to do it again."

_____

Unable to stand on your own legs without shaking you remained sprawled on Doyoung's bed for a while, eyes heavy with sleep.

"The groceries are still in the car," he said while zipping his pants.

He offered to take a shower together but your growling tummy interrupted him so now you were alone in the bathtub, lazily lathering up your skin and waiting for him to come back from the parking lot.

Relaxed from the good fuck and the hot water, you looked around curious, checking out his toiletries as if they could tell you more about this mysterious Doyoung guy.

Perhaps it was too soon but as you collected the soapy water to blow on it you felt like falling in love a little.

A little smile crept on your lips when you heard the entrance door open and close with a thud and you looked in the mirror to check on yourself before Doyoung could barge in. As if he didn't fuck you while you were looking crazy just moments before that.

"That was very quick-," you started but squealed and put your hands on your chest as a man entered the bathroom not looking like your Doyoung at all.

"Oh my God!" the guy jumped back a little before starting to laugh.

"Who are you?"

"You scared the shit out of me. Why are you here in the dim light?" the young man kept going without answering.

You blinked at him. "It's relaxing."

"I'm Jaemin. Doyoung's flatmate," he finally explained and you wondered why he looked at you as if knowing you. "And you must be the winery girl."

You tilted your head to the side. "Winery girl? Do you know me?"

"I kinda go out with your friend? The other winery girl?"

You widened your eyes. "You're the BDSM guy?"

For the first time since he entered the bathroom, Jaemin looked flustered.

"Exactly what did she tell you about us?" he scratched the back of his head.

You giggled. "My friend has been very happy lately. I know enough to make sure you're treating her well."

Jaemin's eyes lit up and you thought he was so cute to have a crush on your friend. Your mind suddenly thought of Doyoung and wondered if he might have a crush on you too.

"Think of the devil," you murmured as Doyoung appeared behind Jaemin with the groceries bags.

"You were thinking of me?" he smiled then suddenly realized the whole situation. "Why the hell are you looking at my naked girl?" he tried to tackle the other. Jaemin chuckled and took a few steps back in the corridor.

"Had no idea she was here, I swear!"

_____

My girl.

You were sitting timidly at the dinner table, wearing Doyoung's clothes and looking at Jaemin's back as he prepared the food. The water running in the bathroom and Doyoung's faint singing voice made you chuckle.

He said, my girl.

You put your hands to your cheeks.

"You really like him."

You jolted and raised your head to see Jaemin comforting eyes.

Batting your lashes you wondered what kind of expression you had on and with a little note of panic, you wondered if it was that easy for Doyoung to see it too.

"This is a secret between us," Jaemin started lowering his voice, "but I think he likes you too. You really look like his soulmate now that I think about it."

You were about to melt but his last words made you snap out of the dream.

"His soulmate?" you questioned, suddenly very interested.

Jaemin shook his head as if to not give him any importance but upon seeing your curious eyes he placed the lid on the pot and sat down in front of you.

"So it was new years," he started and you gulped. He then stopped to giggle, remembering the scene as if it played in front of himself. "We were drunk as fuck. We went to like three different parties and I was wasted. I don't know if you're familiar with the place but there's a tarot reader downtown. We were bored so we decided to go there."

Your head felt suddenly very light. "And what happened?" you asked with a faint voice.

"Oh, we made a fool out of ourselves for sure, but the woman was nice and did a reading for Doyoung. I don't remember much but I kinda remember the physical descriptions. And you scarily look like that a lot."

You swallowed again and you felt your mouth dry.

"And does Doyoung remember?"

"Remember what?"

You gasped when Doyoung appeared on your side, a towel around his neck as he used one end to dry the back of his head.

"I was telling Y/N about the soulmate thing, you know? When the lady told you that they'd be coming around summer?"

Doyoung's pupils trembled a little but then he turned around and headed towards the fridge.

"Ah yeah. I don't believe any of that though," he said and poured himself a glass of water.

You looked at his profile as he drank and then noticed Jaemin's pitiful expression.

"I got a reading on new year's too in the exact same place," you confessed and the silence afterwards felt heavy.

"And your soulmate was someone that looks like me?" Doyoung joked and Jaemin giggled awkwardly.

Your heart stung very painfully but you let out a dry chuckle too.

“I don’t believe in it either. But it was very fun,” you lied.

“I should have done a reading too,” Jaemin commented.

"I'm starving," Doyoung lifted the lid and his friend got closer to stir again.

Their voices talking about ingredients felt muffled as you tried hard to swallow your stupid tears.

_____

You had no idea why you believed the soulmates story.

Maybe you were lonely or just plain bored but the idea of having a designated person you could be with during your lifetime felt very comforting. Especially since the Lady told you to have faith.

Doyoung seemed to fit every category and you were so insanely attracted to him that it did not make sense for him to not be your soulmate. But do soulmates appear then disappear from your life, leaving behind nothing besides your memories of them?

Maybe you should have given him your number after you left his apartment that night, but reflecting about it with a cold mind, you did well to not seek him out given his reaction to the whole soulmates discourse.

He was definitely not your soulmate. It shouldn’t have been this hard.

Looking at your desk you sighed at the amount of work you had to do for the day and you imagined Doyoung walking through your door just like soulmates in movies would do. Then you shook your head trying to get those intrusive thoughts out of your head.

Enough.

But it was so difficult, especially as your eyes kept falling on his cologne, partially hidden behind your pens.

You grabbed it suddenly intending to throw it out.

"Oh sorry, I made this fall," you eyed the bottle of perfume on the cabinet by the entrance as you put on your shoes. With quick hands you grabbed it but before placing the cap on, you brought it to your face and smelled it again. "It's very nice." Doyoung, seeing you out, was leaning on the wall. "Do you like it?" You nodded. "You can keep it." You hesitated, wondering if he was joking or not. "Think of me," his eyebrows wiggled amused and if you wouldn't have been so exhausted you would have begged him to take you against the same cabinet again.

Now, eyes closed, you were thinking of him indeed as you smelled that cologne, a shy hand slowly creeping up your thigh.

No. You weren't about to masturbate at work but the temptation was so big that you jolted as if awoken from a dream when your phone rang.

You breathed in and out as if to calm down and picked it up.

"Y/N speaking."

"Hi, soulmate."

His voice made you physically shiver and your heart started to beat so fast inside your ears that you were afraid Doyoung could hear it too.

"How did you get my number?"

"I don't have your number. This is the winery's one and I googled it."

You bit your lower lip feeling stupid.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Sorry, I'm a little tired."

"Have you been working a lot lately?"

"Yes," you replied and it was true, but it wasn't work that clouded and exhausted your mind.

"You need a pause then. Do you want me to help you relax?"

His low and amused tone made your legs shift and you changed their position.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Are you alone?"

"Yes," you almost whispered.

"Then close your eyes for me."

You did timidly and the increase of your breath probably was a confirmation for him that you listened because he went on soon after.

"Now touch your neck slowly with your fingertips. Go down to your clavicle then gently cup your breasts."

"This is making me shiver," you breathed out.

"Good. I bet you're wearing a thin bralette and your perked nipples are poking through."

You sighed as you touched them and smiled at Doyoung's correct intuition.

"Yes," you replied.

"Can you play with them as I would if I were there?"

You whined and bit your lower lip trying to resist the urge.

"Doyoung-," this is a little inappropriate and honestly, kinda rude of you, especially since you went mia suddenly and now you want to pick up from where you left, you intended to say but didn’t manage to.

"Do it," he commanded and your hand flew to your breasts and started to play with your nipples as if it didn't belong to you anymore.

"Good girl. Does it feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered.

"Speak up love."

"I can't be loud."

"Oh really? Then, now slip one hand under your panties and rub your clit. I bet you're soaking wet and let's see if you'll be able to not be loud."

His voice sounded like a hypnotic melody and you didn't even question it when you found yourself with the fingers gently pressing on your clit in little circles. Your breath got quicker and heavier, the grip on the phone was even stronger.

"Doyoung-,"

"Yes, babe? Does it feel good?" he cooed.

"It feels so fucking good-,"

"Can you slip a finger in for me too, love?"

You nodded even if he couldn't see you and you did as he wished, the stretch so unsatisfying in comparison to Doyoung's girth to make you whine frustrated.

"I- I wished you fucked me instead-,"

"Okay then," he replied calmly and for a split second, you wondered if the whole phone sex thing was not something you weren’t good at to make him reply so dryly when the door to your office opened and Doyoung took his tongue out at you.

His sudden presence made you so flustered that you promptly pulled your fingers away as if he caught you doing it instead of being the one ordering you around.

"What are you doing here?" you put your phone down with a shaking hand.

He walked lazily towards your desk and put a paper bag on it. "Brought you your clothes."

You looked at them. "How did you get in? My secretary-,"

"Told him I was your boyfriend."

You felt the air stop inside your lungs at his words but you couldn't do much as Doyoung suddenly bent down with hands on the desk and took your still wet fingers into his mouth.

You gasped softly as he sucked on them slowly, letting his tongue collect every single drop of your wetness, his deep eyes flickering with amusement at your visible lust.

And you were so horny that you didn't even question it when he grabbed your wrists and made you stand. You took a step towards him but he pulled you by the waist and turned you around, pushing you towards the desk with his hips and pressing himself into your ass until you were bent over.

"You look amazing like this, just like a little slut waiting for my cock, ain't I right?"

You gasped for air as he pressed one palm on your spine and the other slowly raised your skirt.

"You keep dressing like this at work. No wonder your secretary was so upset to hear that I was your boyfriend. Do you want us to put on a little show for him? So he knows his place."

His fingers drawing lines up and down your clothed pussy prevented you from forming any words and when you felt your panties slip to the side and heard Doyoung's zip you inhaled aching to feel him inside.

But he didn't touch you where you wanted him to.

"Answer me," he slapped your ass and you curved your neck up with a hiss.

"If you finally fuck me good enough perhaps I'll be loud enough for him to hear me."

Another slap.

"Are you being a brat now? Should I not make you cum just like-,"

"Nonononono please please no please--" the string of begging erupted out of you way too easily and it was interrupted by Doyoung's dry laugh and hard cock finally slipping inside.

You exhaled deeply and he grunted, bottoming out until you felt his hip bones on your ass.

He remained still then he snapped.

"Fuck fuck Doyoung--ah!" you cried out.

"Louder."

Your voice would have increased in volume without him ordering that but it certainly added to the whole desk creaking and skin slapping symphony.

One of his hands was palming your ass while the other pulled you towards him by the waist, but then he changed his mind and grabbed your arms by the elbows, pulling your torso up and making you curve your spine.

You cried out his name again and stared at his reflection in the window in front of you. Eyebrows furrowed and a couple of strands of his hair fallen from the styled fringe made his gaze even deeper when you locked eyes.

Then he smiled wickedly and a shiver shook your body knowing that nothing good will come out of that. And soon enough he let go of your arms and held your bust instead while the other wrapped your throat. You gasped for air and he attached his teeth to your shoulder sucking deeply and slowly, so different to the pace of his quick hips.

Your desk phone rang and Doyoung held you harder as an indication to not even think about it. Not that you even cared about besides the way his cock was stretching you all out.

The string of your choked moans just increased their tempo until you shuddered in his arms with a cry, so hard and so suddenly that his hips stopped and he let go of your throat in a second, holding your body and breathing deeply with you until you didn't whine anymore.

A kiss on the cheek then on the neck and you turned your head around, searching for his lips.

Your phone rang again and he smiled.

"Answer."

"But you're still-,"

He grabbed the phone, placing it to your ear and you had nothing else to do than breathe heavily and greet with a shaking and hoarse voice.

You understood the first three words of the person talking on the other side before Doyoung pushed you on the desk again and started to thrust into you, this time seeking his own high.

You gritted your teeth and rotated your torso to be able to place your palm on his stomach and push your nail into his shirt.

The look in your eyes just made him even more amused.

“Yes, yes, no, could you please repeat that?”

And even if the voice on the other line kindly repeated itself, your eyes rolled inside of your head and your body moved back and forth on the desk making you not understand a single thing.

It was so highly unprofessional and inappropriate that it made your blood boil with pleasure. You hung up, making a mental note to call back and use the ‘line went dead’ excuse.

Doyoung didn’t like that independence a single bit and he made sure to show you as you suddenly found yourself standing, no cock to stretch you out anymore and his hands on your waist turning your around.

“On your knees.”

You slipped down in front of him with hands on his stomach then you let them fall on his soft suit pants.

The veins on his hand were popping when he grabbed his cock and lightly hit your lips with its tip. You let out your tongue and let it bounce on it, leaning in to be able to catch in between your lips.

Doyoung tutted and took half a step back making your suck on air.

“When and how I say so,” he murmured and got closer again.

His other hand grabbed your head and kept you in place, fully controlling the way he pushed his shaft between your lips, slowly smearing his precum on them.

“I really want to let my cum slide down your throat right now.”

You opened your mouth eagerly and he smiled wickedly.

It reached the back of your throat in one go and you gagged, pressing your nails into his thighs. Heavy on your tongue, you couldn’t move so it was Doyoung to slowly thrust his hips, increasing his movements until you started to drool.

“Fuck, you’re so good-,”

Short-breathed and fingers tightening in your hair you could feel him reaching his orgasm soon.

You lifted your gaze up and when he pulled out to make your breath you cupped his balls with one hand and took him inside of your mouth again.

He choked and started to grunt, meeting your movements with his erratic ones until he went suddenly still and you whined feeling his cum hit the back of your throat.

You swallowed quickly making him hiss as he thrust a couple of times more and he pulled out slowly, a string of saliva and his seed to connect your tongue to his tip.

“You’re amazing. You know that?” he whispered with a raspy voice. His fingers caressed your cheeks and lips as you looked up at him panting.

_____

“Do you want me to hit him with my car?”

Knowing him, it wasn’t a joke so you lightly hit his thigh. “Jeno!”

He chuckled.

Meeting your soulmate - it should have been electrical, like two magnets meeting each other.

The first moment you saw his shoulders, you knew it was him. Before you even saw his face and learned his name, you sighed in relief. Finally, you’ve found him and you were at home.

Then why was it so difficult to just be with Doyoung?

He fucked you good and kissed your lips. He made sure you were okay after fucking your throat and even massaged your feet as you tried to catch your breath on the couch inside your office.

“Can you please bring us, like, something to drink and some snacks?” Doyoung opened the door and talked to a very mortified secretary.

“Sure,” he suddenly got up and looked around as if not knowing which planet he was on.

“Why are you torturing that poor boy?” you rolled your eyes when Doyoung plopped back on the couch near him. “Now he’ll want to resign from the job and he was quite good at it.”

“I think he liked it. I know a post nut face when I see one and he definitely had some fun under that desk.”

The secretary entered the office and his lips were tight as he placed the tray with coffee on the little table in front of you.

“Thank you,” you smiled kindly at him.

“No sugar for you ma’am and one sugar for you sir,” he announced before leaving as quickly as he came in.

You leaned in and took your mug, sighing when you felt it’s warmth heat your skin.

“How did he know I take my coffee with one sugar?” Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows while doing the same.

You looked at him and shrugged. “I told you he’s good at his job.”

And you were thankful that the boy didn’t leave because now as you talked to Jeno in your office, weeks after you’ve seen Doyoung in there, you really needed someone to do your job.

“I’m just not even concentrating much. I think I caught feelings for him while he only saw this as-- fucking,” you threw your hands in the air once and sighed, sitting down at your desk.

Jeno hummed pensively. “Well, he strikes me as someone too romantic for that. People who just hookup don’t behave as he does. They just fuck and leave.”

You rubbed the bridge of your nose. “I just think he was being considerate. You can’t fuck someone’s mouth then leave them there like that.”

Jeno hummed again. “But he did call you my girl and he called himself your boyfriend.”

You looked up. “My girl as the girl that I fuck and my boyfriend only to make the secretary let him in.”

Your friend pursed his lips as if considering that side of events.

“How do you even know all of these details? I don’t remember telling you any of this before,” you chuckled.

Jeno cleared his voice. “You told me. Are you having a loss of memory too now?”

You sighed. “Maybe.”

The young boy cleared his voice again. “Anyway! Plan. Send him nudes.”

“What?” you exclaimed.

You could go around your sweet friend Jeno suggesting you to fuck Doyoung when he was the Rabbit boy but suggesting you to send the dude nudes?

Seeing his pink cheeks Jeno must have suddenly realized what he has just said too and regretted it.

“Trust me. He’s an air sign. They like sexting and mind fucking and all of that stuff. Now I have to go.”

You looked at him standing up. “Since when are you into astrology? Also, where are you going? We were supposed to have lunch together!”

“Sext him and send him a good coochie pic. Bye, love you,” he left like the wind and you leaned back in your chair perplexed.

_____

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," his voice was a whisper and it got engulfed by the jingle of handcuffs in your hands.

You were so beautiful and intoxicating that Doyoung found himself having difficulties breathing when you slowly started to crawl on the bed towards him.

“I’m glad you wore the lingerie I sent you,” he whispered, hands reaching towards you to feel the material under his fingertips. But you grabbed them with a sudden force and Doyoung groaned, finding himself pinned to the bed instead.

“No touching,” you purred.

The young man sighed, feeling his cock twitching on his lower stomach.

You eyed it and smiled like a cat. “You want me to touch you, babe?”

Doyoung nodded. “Please?”

You licked your lips and leaned down, your lips so close to his cock to make him audible whine. A little bit. A little bit more and he would feel-

And then he woke up shaking in his bed.

“Shit.” Doyoung closed his eyes again, rolling on his back with a certain difficulty.

His cock was so hard that it was almost painful and he felt short-breathed.

He looked at his ceiling again and he blinked twice when he realized by the hue of it that his phone lit up.

With a groan he extended his arm to the side and grabbed it, narrowing his eyes at the bright screen.

Then he choked and sat up.

“Fuck!” Doyoung exclaimed upon seeing his phone turn dark in his hands.

With a quick roll of the body, he put his palms on the ground looking for his charger. It took him some other swears and grunts to finally charge it but the phone remained black.

“What the fuck,” he sighed, hitting his head into the pillow.

_____

It was in the way you walked, the way your feet touched the floor.

Or maybe it was the way the air floated between your fingers when you moved your wrists as if grabbing something in Doyoung’s chest and pulling him towards you.

The line of your back extended up until your neck, the line of your jaw, your cheeks puffing up when you laughed and your eyes closing for a second. The sound of it making his heart beat faster and a little smile creeping on his lips although he was in a very bad mood that day.

The people you were talking to stopped looking at you and stared somewhere behind your back instead.

Mouth still open while explaining to them that blue and red looked disgusting together, you turned around to see what caught their attention and you met Doyoung’s face.

Your breath hitched and you had to swallow a few times before being able to speak.

“Hey,” you straightened your back as he approached you.

“It’s time for a lunch break,” he announced without batting an eye.

You blinked a few times, trying to process his presence there all of a sudden.

“You’re dismissed,” he spoke to the creative team and they obeyed him, walking away slowly and chuckling between themselves.

You waited for them to not eavesdrop and huffed before whispering. “Who do you think you are?”

“Your soulmate.”

He slipped his hand in yours and started to walk towards the exit. You let yourself be dragged amused for the first steps then stopped.

“My bag.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes and raised his other hand that was already holding it.

“Come on. I’m starving.”

“Where are we going?” you asked the back of his head as you were already descending the stairs. “Why are you here?”

“I’m annoyed,” he replied as if that was a sufficient explanation and opened the passenger seat’s door for you. "So I wanted to see you because it puts me in a good mood."

You looked at him for a few moments then sighed, trying to conceal your flustered emotions.

“Why are you annoyed? Because you realized that leaving me on read last night was stupid?” you put on your seatbelt.

When you raised your head Doyoung’s palms were on both sides of your face and his lips on yours. You exhaled softly, not expecting any of it so suddenly, then timidly you rested your hand on his knee. The luscious material of his suit was delicate under your fingertips so you absentmindedly started to draw little circles on it, imitating the pattern Doyoung’s tongue was making yours dance in. When he pulled away slightly you managed to look at his eyes. He placed another peck on your lips, then another. By the time he placed the third one you were giggling. The corners of his mouth raised too and you cupped his face and he flinched imperceptibly.

“I thought you wanted to slap me.”

“There are many reasons why I would want to slap you but not today.”

“Not today.”

“Be ready anytime.”

“You too,” he kissed your knuckles before putting his hands on the wheel. “But like on the butt.”

The engire roared as Doyoung turned the keys.

“My phone died,” he explained.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I swear.”

The engine roared again and you drove away from the winery's parking lot.

You sighed, crossing your arms on your chest.

“It’s okay. Only because you’re sweet.”

"Am I sweet?"

"You are."

"You're sweet too so I can't wait to eat you out again."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Okay, you went there."

But he didn't do anything you'd expect him to do. Entering his apartment calmly, you both let the shoes at the entrance and you sighed to feel his soft living room rug under your bare feet.

No bending, no pushing and no hands to knead your flesh.

You tilted your head to the side amused as he placed your bag on the couch and ventured towards the kitchen.

"Is Jaemin home?" you inquired. Maybe that was the reason he didn't want to rearrange your guts that day.

Doyoung took away his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves. Your eyes followed his movements and although you weren't horny one bit before you saw him, now you would have been able to go on for multiple rounds with no rest in between upon seeing just his forearms. You took away your jacket too and expected him to do something already but he turned around and entered the kitchen instead.

"I'm making spaghetti."

You blinked at his profile as he retrieved a pan and a pot, filling the latter with water.

"Did you really bring me here for lunch?" you couldn't help but ask as you sat down at the table.

"Yeah. Why? Is that strange?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. You've always sought me for other things."

He faked an offended expression. "I fed you dinner last time."

You smiled. "But you also fucked me."

"You want me to fuck you after spaghetti?"

"Not necessarily. I like just hanging out with you, but only you like it as well."

As if sensing something in your tone, his amusement wore off when he finally started to cut the onions.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I like it?"

"I mean, we've never really openly discussed this," you gestured between you. "Hell, I fucked you three times before knowing your name."

"You've never asked for it."

"Yeah, well, my mouth was busy doing something else."

He smiled a little and let the onions fall into the hot pan, stirring a few times and opening the fridge to retrieve the tomato sauce.

"How do you want to discuss it?"

His voice got quieter and you had the hunch that he really didn't like having serious talks or emotional ones. Just like, well, just like your supposed soulmate. The thought made your stomach knot up.

"I know this might sound a little funny, but like, what are we?"

Doyoung added the tomato sauce and sprinkled salt, pepper and hot pepper flakes on it before stirring. His domestic look made your chest hurt in ways you've never experienced with him before and suddenly you were afraid to know what he had to say.

"I don't know, but we can be something starting now."

You sighed a little. "Like, friends with benefits?"

Doyoung's expression didn't change but his throat moved as he swallowed. The water started to boil and he put the spaghetti in, pushing them inside as they softened.

"You want us to be friends with benefits?"

No.

Yes.

But like no.

You wanted the friends, you wanted the benefits, but you wanted more.

Would you scare him away if you said that? Would he retreat just like he did when you mentioned the soulmates discourse?

"What about you?"

Dancing around each other like two assassins about to throw the first dagger you let the silence be the witness of it.

"I like you," he hit you first but it was no knife. It was light just like a kiss and your eyelids fluttered.

"Really?"

He let out a single soft chuckle. "Yeah. Why are you so surprised?"

You gulped and looked around not knowing what to say.

"It's just-- your whole soulmate discourse made it look like you wouldn't be romantically interested in me at all."

Doyoung didn’t speak for a moment as if trying to remember, then nodded.

"I don't believe in soulmates."

He placed the lid on the sauce and let it slowly cook.

"I believe in choices. And I'm choosing you I guess."

"Don't you think that maybe you're conditioned to choose me because I'm your soulmate?" you tried to joke but Doyoung didn't smile.

"And where would the fun be in that? My freedom? I think the universe might give you a path but you're free to follow it or not."

"Of course. But isn't it comforting to know that the universe is taking care of you that way?"

"Maybe. Perhaps we're actually soulmates and we've met like ones but now it's our duty to do something about it. I can decide not to see you anymore. What's the universe going to do about it?"

"Make me get into your way and annoy you?" you smiled and his lips curved too.

"What I'm trying to say is that I think we're making our soulmates. I decide that you're my soulmate and we mould ourselves to fit each other. No one is a perfect fit."

You didn't know what to say.

"I tried all of this time you know? I actively sought you out and maybe to you it was fate but we wouldn't be here if I didn't come to you. But you've just been waiting."

His words stung your heart and it felt like a scold.

"I just--it's not like I don't care. I also like you. A lot. I was just--hoping for it to be soulmate like, you know? Maybe that was childish of me."

"What did the Lady tell you? As your last words?"

"To have faith."

"Me too. But to me, faith is putting in the effort and believing in good results. Not waiting for stuff to happen."

"I guess you're right."

"Would you have let me go if you didn't think I was the soulmate you were looking for?"

You blinked a few times unable to speak.

Yeah.

You would have and the sudden realization felt so scary that your spine started to shiver.

He has been speaking without looking at you and at your silence, he turned his head towards you. When he noticed your glossy eyes he let the pan go and walked towards you.

"Why? No. Why are you crying?" he kneeled in front of you, talking with a soft voice and he placed his hands on your shoulders.

You shook your head shocked to see a few drops on your thighs and quickly patted your cheeks dry. Then you let out a timid laugh.

"I don't know what happened. I got emotional all of a sudden. It's fine."

Doyoung sighed and nibbled at his lower lip.

"What I'm trying to say is, even if someone came to me now and told me that you're not my soulmate and they are instead, I would not care. I'm still choosing whoever I want and that's you."

You felt your chin shake by itself and hated the fact that you wore your emotions on your sleeve like that.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I fucked up something."

Doyoung waited, his fingers gently running your arms.

"I would have probably made the mistake of letting you go-," you sobbed, "and at first since things have been so weird and not necessarily easy I didn’t try enough-,"

His eyes softened and he pulled you into a hug.

"You're here now. Why are you worrying about things that could have happened?"

You wrapped his neck and hid your face into his shirt. His familiar scent culled you and you bathed in his warmth.

"I feel like I'm very childish right now and the lady told me that my soulmate liked me for being a boss woman-,"

"I like all of our sides, you fool," he pulled you away and kissed your forehead.

"But you’d like me more if I tied you up." "You’d also like me more if I tied you up." "I actually like it when you're subby." "See? And the lady told me that you liked me being dominant." "I do love it when you're dominant," you timidly circled his chest with your finger. "Hm, maybe I should-,"

"The pasta!" you yelled pointing your finger and Doyoung jolted turning around towards the stove.

The pasta was completely fine and he sighed closing his eyes.

"I thought it was on fire," he complained with a whiny tone as he turned the stove off. Quickly he drained the spaghetti and threw it in the tomato sauce stirring it afterwards. With the corner of his eye, he saw you stand.

"Come here."

You giggled and took a few quick steps back.

His eyes were furious and paired with his smiling expression he looked like a tornado.

"Come here," he repeated.

You shook your head.

"I said-," he managed to grab you and throw you on his shoulder, "-come here."

"Fuck!" you squealed. "Yeah, fuck, that's exactly what I'm going to do to you now."

One second you were standing and the other you were lying down on the couch with the most aggressive Doyoung you’ve ever seen attached to your neck.

The whines came quickly as he sucked your skin inside the mouth, not worrying for a second if it might become sore. As you grabbed his belt his iron fingers clasped your wrists together and you found yourself pinned with your arms above your head. Your chest rose and fell fast looking at his dark eyes under the unstyled fringe.

“Be a good girl and perhaps I’ll think about making you cum,” he whispered through his teeth. You squirmed under him and found yourself breathless.

“Did you hear me?” his other hand fell back the exact moment he bit down on your clothed nipple.

“Are you not wearing a bra?”

You giggled. “I manifested you coming to see me today. And you did.”

His eyes were dark as they analyzed you and for an instance, you thought he’d burst into tears.

But then he reached the hem of your blouse and lifted it up in a second, biting your nipple, letting his tongue circle it afterwards, soothing the sudden sweet pain then biting on it again, stretching it out, sucking on it, giving the same treatment to the other one. His fingers intertwined yours when he felt your wrists try to lift up from the couch and he pushed them down even harder than before.

“Do I have to tie you all up? Huh? I bet you’d like it, right?”

His breath was hot on your lips and so was his tongue when he took it out and slowly outlined them with his wet tip. You opened your mouth and took out your tongue too with a little moan, trying to catch him into a kiss, but he chuckled lightly and let you feel the air instead. Another whine as you lifted your head to reach him but he was quick to push you down by pressing his fingers on your throat. You choked lightly and he pouted.

“Bad baby girls don’t get to kiss,” he murmured. "But if you really want it-" he pressed one finger on your lower lip and opened your mouth. Y

our thighs tightened their hold around his waist and you pulled him towards you even more. The trail of saliva falling on your tongue from his mouth added somehow to the wetness between your legs.

You wanted to be a good girl. You wanted to be a good girl so badly, pleasing him and letting him whatever he wanted to you.

Swallowing slowly, you opened your mouth for more and he finally shoved his tongue inside, kissing you deeply, grunting as he let your hands go and you were quick to let them slide under his shirt.

His skin was hot and your fingers icy cold. He hissed when you circled his nipples and bit your lip.

"Maybe you should warm your hands by doing something useful." He took his cock out and-

"Okay, that's enough!" Jeno threw a cloth on the crystal ball.

"Ah! Come on! I was having so much fun," the Lady complained, jingling her earrings as she giggled.

The boy sitting across the table made a throwing up sound. "Also, why are you still looking like that? It's creeping me out," he commented.

The Lady looked at the mirror on her right and chuckled again.

"I like it when Haechannie is like this," Jaemin appeared from behind him and playfully kissed his cheek.

Jeno made another gag sound. "Gross."

Haechan shook his head and as the boys blinked he was back to his boyish looks. "I'll never get used to this," Jaemin murmured as he was not holding long hair anymore.

"Good job guys. We did it again," Haechan stood up and yawned, lifting his arms in a satisfying stretch. "If Jaemin didn't get back home that time she was over then it might have been quicker," Jeno lifted his legs on the table and leaned down on the chair.

“This is my first job! It was very tough for me actually,” Jaemin complained.

“Hard for you? I had to be myself, the winery girl, the secretary-,” he counted on his fingers.

“I had to be the cashier and I almost lost it when Jaemin said he couldn’t wait to taste your wet pussy-,” Haechan threw his head back and laughed. Jaemin imitated him soon after.

“Did you see Doyoung’s face? He wasn’t into it at all.”

"I miss being a Gryffindor. This universe is boring as fuck,” Jeno rolled his eyes even if he was also smiling a little.

"The next one might be as boring as this my dear friends," Haechan sat back down and brought out his book.

Jeno groaned. "Can't we have a normal life for once? I had to pretend I was a girl. And not only. The thought of Y/N thinking I was doing BDSM stuff with that guy-," he indicated a very amused Jaemin, "-took a toll on my health."

"I'm sorry I'm not a shapeshifter too. I would have loved to be the girl in this relationship. Also, it was you that told her we were doing BDSM stuff, not me.”

“It’s because I forgot to fully shift my arms! She thought I was-,”

"Quiet."

As Haechan spoke the guys immediately stopped talking and Jeno put his feet down.

"The next one is going to be a hard one. We're going to a dark place."

He closed the book.

"To hell, boys."

#doyoung #doyoung smut #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fanfiction #nct #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fanfiction #my soulmate loves wine #jeno #jaemin

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iamdarkness · 3 years

Text

Taboo

Alfonse x Summoner.NSFW 18+

This one goes to the people who wanted an Alfonse Summer atl. At least we got Freyr.

Taboo: from Tongan tabu ‘set apart, forbidden’

Summoner POV

As a person who comes from the “World of Steel” I am be very used to most levels of nakedness in people. I mean, when you do P. E. at school or when you go to the gym or running at the park, or the beach, and watch TV; we are all bombarded by all kinds of nakedness. We are used to looking at other people’s bodies as something normal.

When I got to Askr I met heroes of all kinds and many of them are just like me in that they find levels of nakedness normal. Take Hawkeye for for example. He is quite a gentleman and in his culture it is quite normal to be half naked.

Leading the heroes I got used to them and their bodies enough that I view most of them with a more clinical eye, like a doctor would. When they are wounded and I help treat them, I see their bodies just as a doctor would. The same goes when I see them in the beach or the spring. This make them much more comfortable around me. So much so that some of the heroes have tried to play tricks on me and see me crack.

Like the time the most unlikely pair, consisting of Niles and Henry played a trick on older Ike. They took his clothes when he was in one of the baths, locked his room and hid his clothes in my office (which is attached to Alfonse’s). They told him not to worry “ The Summoner is asleep.” I was definitely not asleep and saw the guy in all of his muscular glory. Did I get flustered? Not really. I mean at first it was like “WTF”, but I was not ogling the guy! He was all freaked out, and I got worried. Besides, I have seen him almost naked before. What is a little more skin? Well it wasn’t little to be fair…it was actually quite a lot…

I was quietly reading a report on my writing desk, all hunched over, when he came silently in and stood right in front of me. I waited for him to talk. I thought it was Alfonse at first, coming to get my report, so I did not even say anything. I am used to him just coming in and sit to wait for me to finish my work quietly. Then Ike stands just in front of the desk and I look up to see a mop of dark blue hair over his “Ragnell”. I look all the way up to see Ike looking over at the bookcase behind me. He was not yet aware I was awake.

-Ike? What are you looking for?- I ask calmly looking back to the bookcase behind me to see what he was looking for. I hear a yelp and something heavy falling down. I look around and find him on the floor covering himself with his hands. His eyes were wide opened and he could not talk for a second. He just kept opening and closing his mouth and said “ I can explain.”in a strangled voice. Alfonse chooses that exact moment to come inside and finds me standing up to give Ike my coat so he can cover himself up. What does he see? I am undressing my self in front of Ike and Ike is naked on the floor.

...NICE…

Yes we were able to clear that up. Alfonse even laughed about it and still does sometimes, but that was only the beginning.

Some time later Dieck comes inside the study Alfonse and I use in the library. Now we all know Dieck always uses the bare minimum on clothes, but this time he is wearing only his pants and boots. As soon as he comes in, he starts taking his pants off (And of course he is not wearing underwear) and looks at Alfonse and say.

-Oh Your Majesty is here too? Oh don’t worry; I don’t mind.- He now is butt naked and kicking his boots off. I turn to Alfonse with a ‘WTF’ face and I see him tomato red and very angry. He looks at me and…Why…is he angry at me too? What did I do?

-Dieck… what the hell is going on?- I ask calmly because I feel Alfonse is going to blow a gasket and any loud noise will set it off.

-I am here for the check up.- He says simply and his smile falters a little, looking sideways at Alfonse. I focus on his face like it is a normal conversation. Doctors and nurses can do this and so can I.

-What check up?

-The one you ordered to check our birthmarks and scars, just in case we are killed and there is no other way to identify our bodies.- I turn to Alfonse and I give him a questioning look, but he appears to not have heard anything except the “the one you ordered”. He is looking at us both angrily back and forth.

-Umm…Well now that you mentioned it… It sounds like a good idea, but I have never given that order. Whoever told you that? -Still focused on the face.

-One of the soldiers…so it is not true?- He asks now red in the face, which is very weird because this man has no sense of shame when it comes to showing off. Then he goes to cover himself with his hands, but too late Dieck, I already saw it all.

-Well no, but it is a good idea, right Alfonse?- I say thoughtfully. He seemed to have regained his senses and is now still red, but his face is lowered and he just nods.

-Oh…I should go then and find that (he whispers some curses under his breath)…I… -He takes his pants and puts them on. I start making a note about the idea to tell Anna.- I am sorry ______.

- Don’t worry Dieck. No harm done. This has happened before and just so you know I liked the idea, but if we do make it happen, it would be a member of the healing team doing the check up.- He looks skeptically at Alfonse who is pinching the bridge of his nose and has his eyes closed. You know, that face he does when he is about to lose his patience? Well that one.

-Oh! Thanks for letting me know.

-I want to know if you can identify the soldier that told you this. Please see me tomorrow after breakfast,at the training ground.- Alfonse tells Dieck and there is a determined look on his face. Dieck looks back at him and with just the same look, agrees to it.

At the end we did use that idea, but meanwhile I had four other heroes coming in to undress in my presence. One of them being Lady Camilla who agreed to dismember whoever was the culprit of the trick. The other was Libra who looked about to faint when he was informed he had been tricked by someone. King Claude, who laughed about it and congratulated whoever had bested him in his kind of game; and finally Sonia, who paraded around the room, even after I told her it was not necessary for her to undress. The culprit ended up being Xane ,and Marth was not lenient with him. Neither was I. I mean whoever plays a trick like that on Libra?! Yes! He is a guy!

This keeps happening periodically, specially with new heroes. It is like some kind of hazing ritual.

At this point I have seen at least one version of all the heroes naked for one reason or another and like I said before, they seemed to be very comfortable around me and my professionalism.

Yet I, being myself can’t get used to showing much of my own body due to my insecurities. I mean I may exercise and maybe train but I keep myself still kind of covered up almost all the time. It is a uniform after all. I even have to wear that tiara they gave me. I look like royalty XD

Askr itself has it’s own norms and they are far more conservative when it came to dress codes and overall behavior. I mean Alfonse sometimes sounds like I imagine my great grandpa sounded back in the day. And this is when I realized something. I have never seen Alfonse in any kind of undress and…It kind of bother me. Why? Because he was the only one person I was attracted to in all of Askr. I loved that man’s mind, heart, personality and skill…in everything he did.

I knew I was in love with Alfonse at this point, but it had taken another Alfonse showing a little chest to understand that I was the the most sexually frustrated of all my life and that looking at his chest was doing things no one else had done in their entire nakedness. Hell not even porn or hentai had given me the high I got from imaging my Alfonse in that outfit. I mean…not that I used to watch porn or hentai. I know what they are, but the time I did watch, it was all meh. I even thought it was funny. I mean, who isn’t curious about that ? I suppose we have all gone at least once and taken a look at it? Right?…right?

I remember plain as day I stood there stunned into silence, and probably mouth agape the whole time. I must have looked like an idiot or a pervert! My Alfonse was red as a tomato and trying so hard to avoid my gaze. At the end of the day, the only thing I got out of him was a little laugh and a small “I am so glad, we do not share that costume here in Askr.”

…..FUCK!

I find my self starting at his UN-globed hands when he is drinking tea or eating. I try not to, but the white smooth surface of the back of his hands contrast with the rough calloused fingers, so used to gripping sword and shield. They can also play the sweetest of sounds on a violin and I find that so sexy. Those same long white fingers so tempting and beautiful in their strength and skillfulness. Sometimes I stop my self from wondering how they would feel and...<<What them fingers do Alfonse?!! No ! Stop!>>

It is true I touch him often. Touch is my love language and even though I always make sure to give people that do mind, their personal space, I do know that Alfonse does not mind. Alfonse may not be a huger, but it does not mean he does not enjoy being touched by people he holds close to him or for them to be near him. Also yes, I have helped him with his wounds but, most of the time I am to damn worried to actually take time to enjoy the touch of his skin and to be hones I find that quite a violation of trust, so I do not indulge in it.

Sometimes he has caught me starting at the brim of his scarf and under-armor for a glimpse of his neck and I feel so embarrassed by it, but the thought of kissing him there is so tempting to me and I long so much to see past that barrier. He always covers himself again when he sees it is revealing more that that fraction of his neck… And Lord above! Is he smiling?

The curse of all of this is, that yes we have Summer here in Askr, but it is not as hot and you have to travel to the beach to be seriously hot. He has never gone to the beach with us, since I arrived here. I am not counting the times we do go, because Anna comes up with some scheme to raise money for the order, because we all wear the uniform then. Whenever he goes to the hot spring; he does it by himself, when Sharena and I are doing something else. Even while going to the river he wears long sleeves, because …bugs. I have asked Sharena and she just answered that she had not noticed and why I was interested….Oh you know…scientific purposes Sharena…

At first I feel so sad and rejected. Fine…I get it. You are not interested in me and do not welcome my intrusive looks…but…he gives me so many mixed signals! Why is he so close at meetings and I can feel his fingers touching mine. He has taken my hands in his many times. When another hero flirts with me he always appears out of nowhere with knitted brows and a disapproving stare. Prince Hrid came to say ‘Hi’ once and to talk to me, and next thing I know Alfonse drops everything to be next to me as well. Hrid even asked me if we were engaged ! I wish Hrid!

Well I suppose that is what friends do right? Maybe he does not want me falling in love with a hero and leaving Askr while they need me here. But I talked to him already. I am not returning “home” and I am not leaving…because…How can I leave and not see him again? Not that I wanted to return “home” to begin with, and it seemed impossible to fall in love with someone else other than him.

I have seen heroes flirting with him as well, and he seems unimpressed by any of them. I have heard other heroes telling the rejected ones, “He has eyes only for the Summoner.” …But what had they seen that I don’t? So I go and ask Sharena and she just laughs it up and says to give him time. He is shy and self conscious.

…So he does like me, but is very shy and very busy and very self conscious and insecure? OK…I can work with that. Like a great elf king said once; “I am patient; I can wait.” But not that much cause I’m not an elf.

Then Lif came and I thought “Hell! Even his grandpa show more skin than him!”

Lif came like a shadow from the grave that will take your last breath. To be honest, he looked more like Death than Hel herself. Except… He was HOT. I felt bad for even thinking that, when the Goddess of Death was trying to end us all, and most specially Alfonse. And you see, that is when I got angry. How the heck was an ancestor of the Askr royalty helping that crazy witch, end his descendants?

Lif attacked us and tried to, I suppose…kidnap me? He made a bee line to where I was standing and fell all the soldiers on his way. It was weird! I was about to bolt, because the training I had, would not stop the guy who just felled like twenty guys on his way, but something, not fear, took hold of me and I just…those eyes… It was like ten seconds in which I looked into his eyes and saw so many emotions in them, that I could not understand and then I could not move….ten seconds and he was already there in front of me, not attacking but there!

Alfonse came before Lif had taken me or whatever he was going to do. He ended up with a bruised knee and ankle. I went to help him with some salves and bandages when we were done with the rest of the more serious injured people. He took off his shoe and rolled up the under armor. His ankle was not swollen and his knee was bruised but it was not swollen. I put some salve any way.

-What happened? I saw it from afar and felt I would not get there fast enough. Where was Dimitri?- He said a little angry, since King Dimitri was one of my supports alongside him and he was tasked today with being my guardian. I was still massaging his ankle not even thinking about it.

-They were circling us from the back and Dimitri had to fall back to take care of it…Umm…I don’t know what happened. It was weird. He looked at me and he just…

-I saw it too.- Said Sharena who came to stand behind Alfonse.- It was like he hit you with a spell.

-It didn’t feel, like a magic attack. I was more like… I don’t know…- I felt weird about it, so I just made some stupid joke to lighten the mood- Why didn’t y’all tell me your grandpa was so hot? Heh , heh, heh heh! What? It’s not my fault! He kind of looks like you Alfonse.- Hey I was nervous and I do this when I get nervous!

At first They gave me their “ Seriously?” stare, but Sharena catches on quick and starts laughing out loud. Alfonse? Well he scowls and close his eyes and then takes his foot away from my hands. What?? wait I didn’t get the chance to enjoy that! Damn! Next thing I know, he is taking his sock and starts putting in on. I see his smooth white skin peppered with… is that golden hair? Does it have a blue in it? and my throat closes dry. I follow his movements, as hypnotizing as a dance, rolling up that white sock that is taking away my hopes and dreams. Then the under armor goes down and boot on. It took him like ten seconds, that I totally did not count. Then his hands were covered as well.

I look up at him with my hands still hovering in the same place as when he took away his leg and see him smiling sideways. I compose myself and…Wait…What? Is he doing this on purpose? Seriously? And the worst part is, that it should not bother me at all, but the truth is…I am very bothered by it. He has become a some sort of taboo to me and GOD how I love the guy! If it was someone else like Robin who never looses that coat of his and globes; I would not care! But I love him Lord. Why is he like this? I used to thank God I was not one of those feet fetishes people, and now I will be dreaming of his feet. Thanks Alfonse!

Joking. I respect feet fetish people. To each their own.

The point is that I feel like those people in Victorian novels, where they get all hot and bothered by someone’s ankle showing more than normal! Oh but what an ankle that was tho’. Stop. Focus!

I resolve to see him as clinically as any other hero and not stare at the shape of his ears and think of how I want to whisper how much I love him while kissing it…Grrr…I’m doing it again.

Days later we see Lif again and Alfonse is cursed…We have nine days. Good thing Hel has not seen The Ring or it might have been only seven. Yeah I joke now, but back then I was about to commit murder and then kill myself…or something just as dramatic.

We searched for days, a way to undo the curse and we found nothing. You’d think I would have taken a page from Dean Winchester's book and played the “last days on Earth” trope to get into his pants; but to be honest nothing like that even crossed my mind at the time! I was so desperate to keep him alive that nothing else matter to me. He could have paraded naked in front of me at the time I was at the library and I would not have noticed…Well, maybe I would have, but it didn’t happen so it doesn’t count

Until the sixth night of the curse.

There was a knock at the door to my chamber. Oh! Did I mentioned we have a shared study? Because we do. It is between our chambers and it can only be entered from our rooms. It was his idea and it was for safety reasons. The nights I have spent sitting by the chimney staring at his door…but never mind that. He knocked at my chamber door and when I opened it, he was about to leave. He was wearing sleeping pants, a long sleeve night shirt and socks, all in white.

We had fallen asleep next to each other at the library before of course, especially during the days he was cursed. And yes we used to huddle together during our march through Nifl. It was effing cold OK. We also usually had our sleeping rolls next to each other during campaigns, because we fall asleep while talking or after a watch,but we had never slept together on a bed. Beds are…intimate to him I suppose.

This night however, he came in and he just goes on and sit on my bed. He said nothing. I sat next to him and reached over to give him a hug. He took this as his cue and hugged back and didn’t let go. He clung to me with such force I was starting to feel dizzy. I asked him to stay the night. He nodded and still said nothing. I blew out the candle I was using to read and we went to sleep while he hugged me tightly. It was no surprise to me, but it was not so much fear that I could see in him. It was so many emotions, that fear seemed to be the least of his problems; but of course he was afraid. We spend together the following nights of his curse. Funny thing is …all those nights I dreamed of his Grandpa, watching over from my balcony window.

And did I had a glimpsed of something while sleeping together? No. He came in and blew the candle out and by the time I woke up he was already awake. Not like I would have gone and taken advantage of his sleeping form to explore or something. I just thought later that if I had woken up before him, then may be I would have seen his shirt riding up or his pants lowered a little or maybe his sock had fallen off or something. Oh well…They were still the best nights of my life, even if they didn’t feel like that at the time. I mean, I got to be held like I was the most precious and sacred treasure in the world by my beloved. I would care for nothing else.

Then…Grandpa is actually Alfonse from the future…

Lif, as he goes by now, told us everything that had happened in his Askr. Which is weird because I had been dreaming of something like that and I thought it was stress.

We spent some days in that dead world and I got to see Lif a few times. He looked curious about me, but at the same time I noticed he was avoiding me. The way he looked at Sharena really broke my heart every time I caught him starting at her. In turn Sharena looked ready to adopt him, if only he would let her do it.

One of those night I was having a nightmare about me dying while I saw Anna drop dead as if by magic. I woke up to find Lif watching me from afar. I got up and went to talk to him before he ran away.

We talk for a while. I do not want to intrude on painful memories, but he seems to know me so well it feels natural to talk to him, just like it is to Alfonse.

-You two…you are not lovers yet?- He asks eyeing me sideways.

-No. Where you…?

-Yes. After the first attack. We spent some weeks fighting Hel together. Is he still playing hard to get then?-Oh and there it was.

-Oh! So it is not my imagination! God I thought I was going insane! Oh that Bunny suit messed me up! I love that chest!…wait. Is that why you have your chest out? - He nods.- And the glow…I noticed Thrasir does not have that glow and I love glow in the dark…ermm… It is an awesome design I have to say. I like it. It is sexy.- I felt bad for the lack of tact but at the same time he needed to know I did not find him ugly or scary any more.

-You were always odd like that Summoner.- He says that in his deep voice, and it conveys a lot of feelings.

Did he let me touch his chest? No…and I didn’t really ask to be honest. My respects to Lif. He gave up everything for us. I owe him a lot.

Well, now I knew for sure and I could confront him or let him keep doing it, or maybe just seduce him. It was strange. I always thought it only worked on men, but I guess it does work goes both ways! At least it help me to fall in love with his mind and heart first, not his body.

Next day we were walking out of Lif’s castle when the floor gave in and Alfonse and I fell through it. Luckily it was not even high, but I am not as tall as Alfonse and with my luck, part of my coat and shirt got caught on a sharp part of a broken stone pillar, and I was left hanging about one feet off the ground by one shoulder. I tried wiggling off the coat but I could not do it.

-Are you hurt _____?- Alfonse asks worriedly getting up from where he landed on the floor.

-No! I think I just got scratched! But I can’t unhook my self.

- Only you _____.- Says Alfonse smiling and getting dust out of his uniform.

-Thanks Alfonse…Can you help me down?

He looks around and up for a while and then stares at me for a few minutes. Probably thinking how to approach the problem, but seriously I think he could just reach up and unhook me. He is tall enough for that.

He comes close to me and circle my waist with his left arm and places his left leg between my legs to find leverage on the pillar behind me. He reaches over my head with his right arm to unhook my coat. Being this close to him is so exiting. My heart begins to race and I start feeling kind of hot. I try not to think about it and avoid my gaze from his face, but I can’t help looking at him.

There was not much light coming down from the hole above us, but I could see the side of his face and ear…yeah the same ear I wanted to…OK! Not now! He took this time to move his leg up to hold my weight up, and I was left straddling it. He kind of wiggled it to adjust and…Oh boy! It felt good, good.

<< Oh no! Don’t move it anymore…>> I was praying for him not to move that leg, because God in heaven, I was going to come right there and then.

…And he moved it again but higher and harder…

-Mmmn- Oh GOD! I did not just moan into his ear. I mean, I am not horny all the time, come on! It is just that, he is so close I can smell him. He smells so deliciously manly, and his leg is touching just the right places!!

Meanwhile he is frozen in place. It seems like he is thinking about what to do or maybe just not thinking at all. I personally think he will be leaving me hanging there to be hones. I am so embarrassed, I lower my face to hide it, but we are so close, I end up hiding my face in the crook of his neck.

He gasps and I can feel his arm tightening on my waist and I get even closer to him. I feel him moving his head a little as if to see my face and then…he moves the leg again as if testing it. This time slowly. I tried and fail to stifle another moan but it still comes out. He moves his hips upwards and keeps moving the leg. It creates just the right amount of friction needed. I feel my hips move on their own to meet him.

-Alfonse…- My legs tighten around his and when I come close to his manhood I can feel his arousal as well.

-_________- He whispers my name softly as my leg touches him. All this while he is still moving that blessed leg back and ford. I am panting at this point and he feels like he is in the same situation. All of this brought me to my knees. I came hard. I sat there shuddering in his arms and biting my hand because the stone caused every little noise to sound louder. I felt him kissing my hair.

We heard some loud footsteps up above us and then…

-Hey! You need help down there!- I hear Barst’s voice over my head. He does not sound or look like he heard anything.

-We are fine…I just need …to get her down.- Alfonse’s voice sound a little strained but Barst takes it to mean he es working on helping me down. Just like that, he unhooks my coat and lowers me down gently, still not letting go.

-I’m getting a ladder!- He’s gone and we can hear his footsteps getting farther away.

Alfonse steps forward still with me in his arms ,until my back is against the pillar and then looks at me and kisses me hard.

I am dizzy by the time he lets go. - He is coming back.- He says against my neck and bites into it. I am sure they could hear that whimper that left my mouth. And can you blame me? He just bit into my neck and at the same time moved his hips in a way that I could feel his manhood rub against me. Both his hands were lowered to my hips and he used them to have me closer to him. All this while, he gave this utterly sexy guttural sound that almost sounded like a growl… He lets go, takes a step back and turns around, a moment later a ladder is lowered.

-You go. I will explore down here a moment.- He says in a firm voice not looking at me.

I go up the ladder still a little shaky and flushed. I tel Barst to let him explore to see what he can find, but to leave the ladder for him to get up. Darn I wanted to go “exploring” with him. Just imagining what he is doing down there is doing things to me. Good thing everyone thought I was scared of what had happened. I only had a scratch to show.

He came back much later.

…Well that was a lot of “exploring”.

He comes to the camp outside the castle and we are ready to leave just after lunch. At first he seems reluctant to be near me. I am freaking out because well, overthinking and anxiety mixed with insecurities is a bad mix. Finally after half a day of travel, we make camp and post the watch. He comes and sit by my side when I am eating. We don’t talk about it until we are left alone to go to rest.

-I…I apologize Alfonse. It wasn’t my intention. I…it just happened.- I tell him when he doesn’t speak.

- It wasn’t my intention either…you don’t have to apologize. I have been wanting to tell you. I…have feelings for you. I just did not want to say it in a situation like that and not at a time like this. I wanted it to be special. I am in love with you _____.

-I love you too Alfonse. I have for a long time… I’m sorry I ruined it…but I could not help but enjoy having you so near.- He is scarlet red, but smiling.- Which by the way, is your fault.- He looks puzzled.- Sir you are playing dirty.

-How so? - He asks.

-You are playing hard to get with my heart.

-Oh that game you started playing with mine?-He asks arching an eyebrow.

-What? Me? When? You don’t even let me see your hands for God’s sake. I never saw you flirting with me.

-I…hold your hands.- He says blushing. Well that was so Alfonse of him.-…erm…You used to never take off that coat or those pants. You were all mysterious and unreachable- Mysterious? Well, firs time someone said that about me.

-You wanted me to take off my pants?- He turns red again -I was…insecure. I mean look at those gorgeous women out there and I get all jealous and insecure. I felt safe with my coat on. What was your excuse?

-The same…I am jealous and insecure…Well, I was at first, but then I noticed something about you. - I give him a questioning look.- You could look at any hero in the nude and not get flustered by it. When I asked you why; you told me they where just natural human bodies to you. You sounded like they were nothing special; like you had analyzed bodies so much you did not find them beautiful or sacred any more. You said you studied them at school and everyone paraded half naked in musical shows and the like. Later you told me you did find them beautiful in an artistic or scientific kind of way but it did not make it better to me.

How to make someone like you fall in love….with me? I listened to you and how you praised my intellect and skills, and I knew you were attracted to those qualities, but there are other men with intellect and skills at home too. I needed to find a way to be special to you.

It was only when we met that other Alfonse dressed in a bunny costume that I understood. The way you looked at him made me so envious and jealous. What was so special about him? I saw you ogle his body like he was the most sinful of apparitions, and he looked just like me! I was frustrated. That same evening I saw you looking differently at me, and I could not help but feel elated about it.

I spied you looking intently at my naked hands and when I put on my globes, that look of disappointment did not escape my eyes. It occurred to me that you had never seen me in any state of undress and it must have been strange to you. I understood how you felt now. I have been watching heroes for years. Beautiful women I have been watching on a daily basis and none of them feel spacial, even if they have beautiful bodies,or incredible skills. Yet the day I saw you wearing regular clothes I …well I…- He blushed, lowered his face and left the sentence hanging.

I flirted with the idea of letting you see more of me, but then I would just become like any other hero, and I wanted more than that. I want so much more.- Now he looked at me, and there was so much love and affection in his eyes, I could have melted in the spot.

I have to confess I enjoyed seeing you flustered when you could see a little of me. That made me feel special, but I did not want to be just a mystery to you either. I wanted your heart and soul,your love not only your lust. I needed to to know you loved me.

I had a talk last night with Lif. He told me they were lovers …His summoner and him. He told me I was being a fool just wasting time. He said that if you were anything like his ______, then you loved me, jut like his summoner did him. _______, I want what they had…I want everything, but I am afraid. Between this situation and the war with Embla…You understand me, don’t you?

- I understand you. I suppose the time is not right. I don’t want to look back on the day we finally are together and remember all these tragedies. You know Alfonse. You were right about me and my take on “nakedness”. I guess we are on the same page now about desire too. To us, Desire comes from love. That is what makes you and your body especial to me. I fell in love with your sharp mind and your heart first, but also thanks to your “efforts” I can understand and appreciate how special a lover’s body is. You made me understand, that what I feel for you is true love, not just infatuation or lust. Thank you. We can wait if that is your wish…if not…I will not say ‘no’ to that to be honest. I leave it to your discretion…But Alfonse, next time you go “exploring” , I want you to know, I can always lend you a hand. ;)

~*~

I write this on the day of Devotion. Alfonse and I had another talk and at the end, we decided to wait. Alfonse’s position is a little difficult, and now even more so after his father’s death. His personality makes me forget he is royalty, but the weight of his crown is a lot. He has more responsibilities and images to uphold. I want to think we have time to enjoy each other’s company, hearts and mind before we rush things any way.

Well, I have to go, my family (Yes they are my family now) is waiting for me. Sharena informed me there is a huge surprise for me. Well, Anna did owed me some favors and she designed the costumes for the Royal family.I can’t wait see Alfonse! I hear he is wearing sandals XD Wink, wink!

PS: Wait! I just realized something! Lif was actually spying on us!?

#feh #feh alfonse #feh summoner #feh alfonse x summoner #fire emblem heroes #fire emblem fanfiction #kiralfonse #fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #alfonse x reader #alfonse x summoner #feh kiran #feh lif #feh lif x reader #feh lif x summoner #feh fan fiction

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justpevensies · 3 years

Text

Please Come Back to Me

request: “ hi can i request a edmund angst like a really good heartbreaking one where he says really hurtful things he doesn’t mean but with a happy ending” - anonymous

blurb: Edmund says some things he didn’t mean..

A/N: my first request! this one was difficult to write but I hope you all enjoy it x

warnings: lots of angst but eventual fluff

Curled in a ball against the door, hot tears were free falling down your face spilling all over your hands and clothing. You had no idea how long you had been sat there weeping bitterly as the pain continued to sting every ounce of your being - your heart ached - and at the same time you felt numb with the sadness and shock. Muffled you could hear a voice crying from the other side of the door.

Very rarely did you and Edmund get in arguments but in this moment, that was exactly what you were doing. You couldn’t even remember what had triggered it but you both were here now and it was going back and forth. At the peak of this anger, Edmund said: “You know, I don’t even know why-”

“Say it!” You spat at him.

“I don’t even know why I care. Why I bother. I can’t believe we’ve come to this”. As far as you were concerned, that was what he thought of this relationship, unworthy of attention or care.

He stared blankly at you, there was almost no traces of remorse in his body. Tears began to glisten on your horizon and when you responded to him pleading your case, Edmund didn’t say anything and in that moment you wanted to slap him across the face for being a coward.

This wasn’t the Edmund you knew, this wasn’t the Edmund you loved. The Edmund you knew and adored didn’t argue with you, he didn’t raise his voice at you, he wouldn’t dream of speaking to anyone like this. In fact, it scared you.

“So that’s it?” You asked sternly. “That’s us?! After everything we’ve shared, experienced and dreamt, all it will come crumbling down over some stupid argument?” You asked, arms folded. Edmund looked at you and it was a look that could kill. “Well” he scoffed, “I guess it will”.

That was not what you were expecting. Your voice went quiet, almost as if you were restrained and you asked in a whisper: “What?”

Edmund turned around and sighed, about to resume work at his desk and he responded: “I don’t know if I can talk to you like this”. At that you stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “No!” you yelled. “I want to hear what you have to say”.

Edmund looked at you and shrugged, “Okay”. After that, he laid it on you. He told you everything he had been feeling in the last few minutes - anger, disappointment, frustration. You knew that recently he had been overworked and tired so you assumed that contributed greatly to everything he was doing right now - probably to this very argument - but the things he was saying at this moment felt different. Every word felt like a stab at your worst insecurities, it felt like an attack and you knew you wouldn’t dream of speaking to him like this, regardless of how he made you feel. In this moment, you looked at Edmund - tears in your eyes - and for the first time you didn’t feel any love for him.

Frozen in that moment, you whispered back to him when he finished: “Is that really how you feel? I’m not enough, I’m not good enough?”

Edmund didn’t say anything, he just clenched his jaw. However, he knew that as soon as he finished that he didn’t mean a word. The pent up frustration, anxiety and exhaustion of duties he had been experiencing lately had almost possessed him and he had found no other way to let out that anger than onto you. Everything he had just said to you was how he felt about himself, yet here he was - an unworthy, stupid fool who had wasted the most joyful and good thing. He knew instantly he had made the biggest mistake.

However, his lack of response convinced you that everything he said was true. You didn’t need him to say anything, so you took that as your cue to leave.

“(Y/N)! Stop! I-”

The door to his study opened and immediately slammed shut.

You raced to your dressing room in your bedchamber, slamming the door and locking it shut. Sliding down in defeat, you just the agonising pain consume you. His words raided your head, your heart was detonated, you wanted to scream but no words came.

Suddenly you heard another noise that wasn’t your heavy breathing or sobs: approaching footsteps. Rather quick paced footsteps.

You had forgotten to lock your bedroom door so whoever had come to check on you (bearing in mind several people saw you in the corridors) was obviously going to waltz right in after your emotional exit.

However, you recognized the sound of those footsteps, that walking speed. You wanted to believe it was him but everything right now was telling you he wasn’t interested and didn’t care.

“(Y/N)?!” A pleading voice cried out. It was Edmund.

He must have heard your cries from the other side of the door as you heard the footsteps approaching and then a loud banging on the door. The handle rattled as he attempted to burst in and - due to getting a fright - you suddenly held your breath. You were certain that your heart was pounding, as if something cruel was trying to break through. For a brief moment, everything was quiet.

That was what happened... you had no idea how long ago it was but you couldn’t see yourself moving anytime soon.

The voice crying from the other side of the door became more muffled as time ticked on. Cries, pleads and shouts from Edmund of your name gradually became more audible to you as you tried to inhale more and calm your breathing.

“(Y/N)?!”

The cries became more desperate, the thumps on the door became more repetitive but less strong, evidently it was hurting his hand. However that pain - as far as you were concerned - was nowhere near what you were enduring on the other side.

“Oh (Y/N), open the door!” Edmund yelled through with a cracked voice.

You didn’t want to imagine how he was looking right now because it would only tear you in two.

You managed to piece some of your emotions together to wimper out: “Edmund-”. You heard him let out a sigh of relief before his thumping stopped. “Oh goodness (Y/N)! Please open the door!” You had somehow managed to stop crying, as if all of reality had snapped back into place. However, it felt like some alternate universe, a nightmare, and one you wanted out of quickly.

“Edmund-” you repeated, holding back more tears, “No”.

“What?”

“Please go away”.

There was a silence before Edmund again knocked - this time in a more gentle manner - “(Y/N)” he said before you snapped: “Go away! Leave me alone!”

These words broke Edmund more than he could say, as if he wasn’t feeling guilt already. This came down on him like a tonne of bricks: you didn’t want him. He cracked involuntarily and he fell into the wood. With his face pressed against the door, some stray tears began to glide down his cheeks. You could hear him but you didn’t say a thing - right now there was no sympathy.

“Oh (Y/N)...” Edmund began to whisper. “Please... open the door. I need to talk to you”.

You scoffed, more tears beginning to glisten: “No you don’t! You’ve made your perspective very clear” you replied sharply before burying your face in your knees.

There was a silence but it was piercing. You could hear Edmund sniffling through the door and while you did feel compelled to open it - largely out of heartbreak -but out of stubborness you didn’t. He finally broke the tension by saying: “Listen (Y/N) you’ve got to open the door”. Just wanting him to leave you alone you shouted back: “Why should I?”

Immediately, Edmund responded: “Because I love you!”

Before you could even say anything back, he continued: “Yes. I love you! You may not believe that right now and the feeling is probably not mutual right now but I love you”.

You were silenced and you waited to hear if he said anymore. He did.

“Oh (Y/N) I love you so much. Every aspect of your being - your radiant smile, your character, the fact that you are truly genuine, caring and loving regardless of who or circumstance. I would compare you to the beautiful things of this world but none could do justice for you are so perfectly different from everyone and everything else. I cannot tell you how blessed I am to have you in my life - you’re a saving grace to me. However, I understand if that loving nature isn’t extended to me currently-”

You slowly began to stand up at the other side of the door, at the same time your head had fallen silent and no words were capable of coming from your mouth.

“I’ve been a fool. I was stupid and immature, and instead of talking about how I was actually feeling because of all this outside pressure, I took all of my own doubts about myself and put them onto you. You will never be like that - you are worthy of every ounce of love and praise, you are a saint. If I have to spend every day proving that to you then I will do that but I know I am unworthy to have you for making you feel how I did.

There was a pause.

“If you can find it in your heart to forgive me-” you heard Edmund whisper before breaking into tears. At that you leaned against the door, pressing your hand to the wood. Your heart ached, torn in two. He sniffled, wiping away any emotion before continuing: “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll never make you feel the way I have ever again. You’ll never doubt my love for you. I didn’t mean what I said, I don’t even know why I said it. But I know it was wrong”.

Those final words were the ones you needed and they began to patch your brokenness. He finally said: “If you will forgive me, I will dedicate all of my soul to yours. ” It was a bold statement but Edmund knew it was genuine and you could feel the truth from within it. “Please come back to me?” he asked in a whisper but you remained in your position, listening against the wood, unable to move from the response you had just heard.

The silence marked the answer. Edmund began to cry yet again outside and, defeated, he turned and walked away. His legs almost gave way and more tears began to fall - he had never known a feeling of loss and pain like this one. It was the pain that you could only feel when something special was taken away from you too soon, too unexpected, and he knew it was his fault.

Suddenly, from behind, he heard a noise and as he turned to see, he saw the door was unlocked, the handle moving at an angle and you stepped out from the hiding. You looked at his face, drowned in grief and his body beginning to sink, and the vision in front of you was a broken man. As Edmund looked at you, his heart pounded - unaware of what was coming and whether to be hopeful or not - and you simply responded: “I will forgive you”.

Without anything else being said, the two of you sprinted to one another and embraced closer than you had ever been. The most deepest of kisses was shared and almost instantly all of the pain had been washed away. Through muffled voices you both cried “I love yous” and Edmund restated his promise of faithfulness and love - you believed every word.

After kissing several more times, Edmund held your face in his hands delicately and he smiled brightly at the look on your face. Your crying had been replaced with tears of joy. You just wanted to hear him tell you how much he loved you again and again and as you gazed into his eyes, you knew those words were true. This was the Edmund you knew, this was the Edmund you loved...and would continue to love for all time.

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thecousinsdangereux · 3 years

Text

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

#bumbleby #writing #rwby #bees racer au #for #corvophobia #<33333 #just a little something for a birthday treat

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troubatrain · 3 years

Text

bad behavior - m. tkachuk

a/n: i don’t know when i started writing consistently but here we are. this another part of this series i was super excited about writing because this song is what put the idea in my head to begin with. quick shout out to @hookingminor, @tkafuckit, & @davidpastrsnack for reading my work and validating it because i swear i would never finish without you guys sometimes. hope you guys like it!

as per usual i recommend listing to the song while you read!

part of my lovely little lonely series

warnings: smut

“...you tell me, you're insecure, but don't be, stay soft, but don't be gentle, it's altogether mental...” - Bad Behavior - The Maine

I’m not a distraction am I?

Of fucking course you are, Matthew thought, buttoning up his dress shirt while he looked at the fresh marks he bit in your back not even fifteen minutes ago. You were the biggest distraction, Matthew forgoing his pre-game nap just for extra time with you between the sheets. You were a mistake he couldn’t stop making, ignoring the constant pull in his chest whenever you left because you didn’t do anything more than what you gave him.

Really, it was probably karmic punishment for all the shitty things Matthew’s done in his life. The universe would drop his dream girl in front of him but as it turns out, she played the game better than him. It wasn’t like he didn’t get a warning from your best friend Ella who’d been dating Sam from what seemed like the dawn of time. You were a heartbreaker, it was just how it was and that was how it’s going to be. Matthew ignored Ella, taking you home without a second thought because that’s what he wanted too. No Strings Attached. Turns out, he was in over his head when you left one night and the other side of Matthew’s bed felt cold for the first time in his life.

“You’re not a distraction pretty girl,” Matthew nods, curls bouncing against his forehead while he admires you from the otherside of his bedroom, “Are you coming tonight?”

“Are you going to be on your worst behavior?” You ask, rolling out of bed to collect your clothes Matthew never seemed to toss in one place. That’s why you were different, every person in his life telling him to ease up in his game - except you. You loved watching Matthew get into it on the ice because after those games the sex was just better.

Matthew chuckles, watching you unhook your panties from the lamp in the corner of the room and frowning when you saw the tear he ripped in them, “I’ll be on my worst behavior if you’re coming home with me later.”

“Twice in one day is pushing your luck Matthew,” You sigh dramatically, fixing his collar and flattening his tie, “And exhausting for me quite honestly.”

“I’ll be easy,” Matthew suggests, fingers gently pushing a piece of hair from in front of your face. Your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the moment. This made it so hard to keep your distance, the fact that Matthew was more of a gentle giant than he led on most of the time. Sure, he could pull your hair back when he hit it from behind and he made the dirtiest jokes in crowded rooms, but when all was said and done - he was kind. Someone would be lucky to have him one day, but that someone just couldn’t be you.

“You’ve never gone easy on me ever,” You giggle, pressing a kiss against Matthew’s jaw, “Good luck.”

***

Matthew didn’t know why he was so nervous about a silly All Star game, but he was. Maybe it was because it was at home, or maybe Brady’s last minute addition had him reconsidering. Either way, he’d been pacing for the last hour and trying to decide if he should tell you to stay home. He couldn’t do that, as if he was going to deny himself the small sliver of happiness he got every time you decided you wanted to see him. You were in charge, and it changed the playing field for Matthew entirely. It wasn’t like it usually was, Matthew being the one who often found themselves hanging by the phone in hopes you’d call. You didn’t, so Matthew got his hopes up and told you to stop by before he left for St. Louis.

“Hey All Star,” You muse, sneaking inside and taking off your coat. Matthew stops his pacing, smiling to himself that you actually showed up when he asked. No answer to his text, because why would you bother to let him know you were on your way. That would be too easy, and you weren’t by any means easy.

Matthew opened his mouth to ask you how your day was, but shut it once he realized he’d never get an answer. The only things he knew about you were learned from Ella and Sam, not a single detail of anything that happened outside of the walls of Matthew’s apartment was ever mentioned to him by you. You knew tons about him, because he opened up to you so easily it was breaking his heart that you wouldn’t do the same. He wondered why he did this to himself, why he didn’t just find someone who was obsessed with him. He liked the chase, Matthew’s athletic intuitions pushing him to strive for the best prize he could find, and you’d be the best of them all if he could have you.

Instead Matthew did what he always does, he pressed his lips to yours and pushed you up against the door. His hands were on your waist, an ironclad grip as if you’d slip right through his hands if he didn’t stop you. You probably would have.

“What’s wrong?” You question, Matthew confused as to how you knew something was up. His eyebrows furrowed, head cocking to the side like a puppy who was trying to figure out what a new sound was. You laugh, a melodic giggle carrying through Matthew’s almost barren apartment, “Your hands are right above my ass but you failed to touch it once, what’s up?”

“I’m, uh, nervous?” Matthew admits, his weaker parts of his brain succumbing to the pout on your lips. That pout could be what killed him. Matthew wasn’t dealing with it well, it being the newfound pressure he’d been feeling to be a top tier player. People expected him to turn it on for every game, and at first he loved it. Then he realized he no longer got the chance to slack off when all eyes were on him, Matthew had been internally crumbling ever since.

That wasn’t necessarily the only reason he’d been insecure lately. You weren’t helping, but you couldn’t be hurting him that much. Maybe you were. Matthew was trying really hard to be cool, but he was failing miserably. He got jealous more often than he liked to admit, and he was a liar if he didn’t deep dive your Instagram to see if you were very clearly seeing someone else. He was gone a lot, and you didn’t owe him any sort of explanation and he knew that. He knew he respected you enough not to ask but he liked you enough to care, and it was eating him alive.

“Pressure’s a lot, I just don’t feel like, you know,” Matthew explains, fumbling over his words and waving his hands because he didn’t want to say it. His voice got lower, words mumbled together when he spoke, “I’m insecure.”

“Don’t be,” You shrug, a wide confident smile on your face. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised by Matthew, because as far as you knew he was a big bad guy, or at least he thought he was. You thought it was all bullshit, but you did often think that kind of pressure couldn’t be healthy. Every fiber of your being told you to run, that this was getting too emotional and if you didn’t stop you were going to ruin him forever. You did it all the time, your heart wasn’t built for more than a night and you were just accepting it. If you weren’t going to be able to stop self destructing anyone who tries to connect to you emotionally besides your loved ones you protected so fiercely - then you were going to have fun.

Which is what you thought you were getting into. You took Matthew home with nothing but his reputation spinning around in your head that he was the perfect conquest. Then you fucked, and it was too good to give up. So you kept him at arms length, never giving into those damn eyes and his frown whenever you left after you had sex. It was better that way, for both of you really.

“That’s all you got for me?” Matthew asks, stifling a laugh at your simple answer. He was admitting to you something he’s never let another soul know but you simply just shrugged.

“Okay, how about this,” You take a deep breath, snaking your hands under his shirt and grazing your nails against his skin.

You’re Matthew fucking Tkachuk. Your lips pressed against his jaw, a smirk gracing his face. You don’t give a fuck who’s in your way, you’ll hit them. Your lips moved to his ear, whispering softly. You’re what Doughty’s nightmares are made of. Your hands slipped down, playing with the waistband on his boxers. And you can score with the best of them, on and off the ice. Matthew laughed at that one, a smug smile back on his face where it rightfully should be. You have nothing to worry about.

Both of Matthew’s large hands landed on your cheeks, calloused fingers rubbing against your skin and his lips on yours. He didn’t need to say anything, he’d show you just how badly he needed that. Matthew pushed you towards his bedroom, your back hitting the plush mattress. You tossed your hoodie off, Matthew losing his at the same time. You admired him, the way his muscles were defined in the moonlight from his windows. Matthew’s hands slid down your back, unclasping your bra with one hand and smirking to himself when it slid off. You stroked his ego for a reason, one that ran a chill up your spine while he pressed kisses down your body.

“You’re fucking sexy,” Matthew mutters into your skin, sliding off your leggings and eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when a pair of lacy red panties caught his attention. His finger slid underneath them, fingers slick from your core, “And wet too huh?”

“Do you plan on doing something about it or should I call someone else,” You tease, Matthew’s free hand gripped your thigh when you spoke, jealousy coursing through his veins. He finger pulled against your panties, a loud rip catching your attention, “Matthew!”

“Don’t joke like that then, I’ll take care of you just fine on my fucking own,” Matthew growls, lips ghosting your clit. You whimper, running a hair through Matthew’s hair. His tongue lapped at your pussy, trying to remind you just why you couldn’t shake him. He was competitive, and if he had to fight for his spot in your line up he’d do it. You were a mess, a string of curses falling through your lips and your moans echoing in the room.

“Matty, fuck,” You let out a cry, gripping his curls tightly. Matthew flicked your clit with his tongue, a gasp leaving your mouth. Matthew went to overdrive, his well skilled tongue moving quickly to send you over the edge. You grinded against his mouth, his hands holding down your waist so he could keep going while you came on his face. You finally push his head back, unable to take anymore.

Matthew crawls back up your body, capturing your lips with his and kicking off his boxers. You push him onto his back gently, a smug smile on his face and his hands landing behind his head, “A show?”

“Shut up,” You shake your head, letting out a laugh while you straddle Matthew. You pumped him a few times, lining his cock up with your pussy and easing yourself onto him.

“You look so good on top of me,” Matthew muses, a cocky tone to his voice. You grab the overgrown curls on the nape of his neck, rolling your hips against him and smirking when a groan left his lips, “My perfect fucking girl.”

Matthew’s hand smacked your ass while you rode him at your own speed. His free hand gripped your hip, speeding up your pace. Matthew loved being on top, a translation of his control that he desperately craved, but he let you do whatever you wanted. His hand snuck up your body, hand gently gripping your neck, “If you leave a mark this time Matthew-”

Matthew chuckles, remembering the borderline vicious threats you sent him the last time his grip got a little too tight and you didn’t realize until the next day. Matthew pulls you down to meet his lips, flipping you over onto your and back wrapping on your legs around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours, something you noticed he'd been doing more often lately, “Cum for me, fuck, c’mon.”

“Harder,” You nod, eager to chase your high and give him what you knew he wanted. He liked to get you off, the satisfaction of pleasing you did it for him, Matthew often bragging about how much a giver he really was. Your pussy fluttered around him, Matthew pulling his cock out and spilling onto your stomach. He looked down at you, completely fucked out with his cum on you like you were his. Your eyes were glassy, lips swollen from his while you caught your breath, “Shit.”

Matthew laughs lightly, walking into the en suite bathroom to get you a towel. He was always gentle afterwards, taking care of you after he absolutely wrecked you as if it was going to remind you that maybe he deserved more than you were giving to anyone else. You tuck your head into Matthew’s pillow, sleep about to take over your body. You never stayed, your own little rule because you just knew if you let him hold you it would be over, “Just stay, you look tired pretty girl.”

Matthew’s voice was gentle, his finger running along your bareback lightly while he offered you a shirt in the other. He wanted you to stay so badly, “Matty-”

“My flight leaves in a few hours, it’s like a nap,” Matthew whispers, and you smile at his excuse for you to sleepover. You nod, sitting up and tossing on whatever gray t-shirt he’d given you. You didn’t know, but it was his favorite shirt in the world, the fabric soft like a tee that had been well loved.

Matthew was supposed to have woken you up before he left, dropping you off at your place before he headed to the airport to go home. He was going to, he swore he really was, but when he was leaving you looked so damn cute snoring away in his favorite shirt. So he left you a note, telling you to lock up before you left and that he’d see you the day he got back. You woke up peacefully, the light shining through the floor to ceiling windows in Matthew’s apartment and rolling your eyes at his note. You grab your phone, smiling when you notice he left it charging for you.

You told me it was a nap.

Maybe you shouldn’t look so cute when you sleep then.

You roll over screaming in the pillow because you were going to ruin him.

***

Matthew had enough of the waiting game.

It's been nine days since that night and Matthew was losing his fucking mind. He was playing like absolute garbage, his name off the scoresheet since the All Star break. Matthew was lashing out left and right, both against the opposition and his own friends when they grew concerned. He thought about moving on, even calling up an old fling. That didn’t end well, Matthew moaning your name by accident in bed and then she left almost immediately after. He was frustrated with himself for getting this invested, but you were intoxicating. Matthew left the Saddledome after another shit game and drove to your place, with the intent that you were either going to hear him out or he was going to have to cut you out of his life.

“Hi?” You were confused when you saw him on the other side of the door, you leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. You were already pressed, wondering what Matthew thought he was doing banging on your apartment door. He looked pissed, bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days and you were already rolling your eyes at the tweets about him being a bust.

“I can’t do this shit anymore,” Matthew steps inside, stomping into your space and gritting his words, “You have this hold on me, and I know I told you I could be cool about this but I can’t be. I’m fucking jealous of every other dude you could be with and I think about it all the time-”

“And I’m a heartless bitch,” You hiss, every wall you had just got taller. Your words could cut like a knife, and you were ready to let Matthew have it, “I’ve heard it from everyone, I ruin people Matthew, save me the argument.”

“You’re not going to ruin me, I know you, fuck,” Matthew steps forward, every bit of anger in his body disappearing when he saw the way you lip was starting to quiver. His voice got lower, his thumb running along your jaw, “I know you think you bring out the worst in me, but you bring out my best too.”

“I’m going to hurt you, I always do,” You whisper, averting your eyes down so you didn’t have to look at him.

“Then hurt me later,” Matthew took this as his turn to shrug, try and take a page in your book and be a little nonchalant, “For now, could we just try this out? No games, no one else, just us.”

“This is bad for you Matthew,” You give him one more warning, pulling him closer to you and tugging on the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Be bad for me then,” Matthew groans, grabbing a handful of your ass and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Matthew!”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

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

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent.

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it.

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break.

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before.

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt.

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever.

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child.

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life.

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today.

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth.

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth.

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code.

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace.

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs.

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment.

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time.

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town.

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips.

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes.

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers.

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change.

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional.

Why, thank you!

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day.

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot.

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture.

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent.

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth.

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites.

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out.

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest.

It happens Thursday on two occasions.

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught.

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?”

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders.

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion.

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink.

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out.

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night.

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary.

You’re going to regret that.

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows.

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly.

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite.

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever.

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did?

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable.

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what.

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.”

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container.

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.”

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks.

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…”

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship.

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.”

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.”

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box.

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.”

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp.

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night.

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.”

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle.

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully.

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red.

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.”

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.”

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp.

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.”

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently.

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait.

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth.

“Well, it fucking worked.”

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins.

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity.

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.”

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind.

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.”

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.”

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.”

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four.

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.”

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now.

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now.

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.”

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.”

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.”

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation.

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?”

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.”

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance.

“Mm-mm. What?”

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.”

He feels her heartbeat trip.

“And you know what I do to brats?”

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense.

“I fuck them until they break.”

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it.

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room.

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs.

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.”

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.”

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win.

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms.

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.”

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.”

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside.

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face.

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours).

“You drool in your sleep.”

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?”

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep.

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit.

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips.

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.”

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it.

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.”

“Truly. His dad was hotter.”

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.”

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.”

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.”

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession.

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike.

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.”

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.”

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak.

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons.

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass.

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end.

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting.

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.”

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name.

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.”

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?”

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?”

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.”

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.”

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.”

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.”

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.”

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.”

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.”

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips.

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that.

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.”

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.”

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil.

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.”

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before.

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?”

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.”

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.”

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know.

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave.

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.”

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.”

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again.

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.”

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.”

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?”

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now.

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.”

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop.

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head.

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue.

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?”

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.”

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers.

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out.

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips.

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.”

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?”

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.”

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it.

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck.

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before.

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.”

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.”

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.”

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Whatever.”

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.”

“Wow. I feel used.”

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!”

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.”

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.”

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.”

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.”

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow.

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?”

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.”

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.”

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?”

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.”

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance.

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.”

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.”

“Oh, like you’re any better?”

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.”

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house.

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally.

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so.

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece.

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did.

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link.

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings.

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom.

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise.

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.”

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead.

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that.

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily.

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video.

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect.

“Uber for Y/N?”

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.”

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.”

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.”

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her.

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place.

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago.

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.”

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science.

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement.

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.”

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person.

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger.

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.”

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?”

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.”

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even.

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time.

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism.

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.”

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way.

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her.

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons.

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist.

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind.

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.”

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter.

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip.

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction.

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant.

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin.

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.”

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises.

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?”

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.”

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.”

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten.

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils.

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth.

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones.

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest.

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.”

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before.

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left.

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to.

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock.

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.”

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one.

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment.

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!”

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.”

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all.

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.”

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.”

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.”

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy.

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core.

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming.

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.”

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.”

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo.

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?”

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before.

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises.

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin.

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture.

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs.

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted.

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs.

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have.

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop.

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him.

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there.

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought.

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding.

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type.

“You like Hamilton?”

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate.

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly.

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth.

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?”

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.”

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.”

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!”

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?”

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.”

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.”

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.”

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?”

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?”

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face.

“Harry, I’m serious—”

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part.

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along.

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room.

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum.

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again.

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.”

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.”

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them.

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did.

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon.

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer.

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.”

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.”

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.”

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would.

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

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