#got a bit carried away with this warm up…. wanted to draw the crew in ep 9 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

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you’re someone i just want around: V

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

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

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

— Only Angel, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 34k

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

///

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

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

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

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

And much to his satisfaction, Harry gets just that.

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

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

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

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

The jacuzzi sex sits at the top of that list.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I changed my mind.”

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

“Idiot.”

“Try again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mortal swallows heavily, nodding her head a tad.

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

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

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

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you want a repeat of that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, that’s so—so— fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Say it.”

“I’m...I’m your filthy little slut.”

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N rolls her eyes at his juvenile answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘What if’ what?”

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

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

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

“How do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you really not going, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry—”

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

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

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

“Get up. Now.”

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

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

She obeys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it, though, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

Harry drinks from Y/N that night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

“Karma’s a bitch, Winnie the Pooh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t help next time.”

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

“You’re a literal child.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dickhead.”

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

“Go back to keeping your mouth shut.”

“Mm. S’what I thought.”

Harry keeps his sensual promise, as he always does.

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

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

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

“Arms behind your back.”

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

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

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

“‘Yes’ what?”

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

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

“Only for you.”

“No one else?”

“No one else.”

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

“Go deeper. Want it all.”

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Always.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s working his praise kink like a charm.

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

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

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

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

Harry loses it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mitch’s downturned lips jolt slightly at the mention of his old bayonet. He had kept the weapon after the American Revolution had ended, as a tribute to the old life he was leaving behind after he transitioned, naming it fondly after his mother. With all of that history taken into appeal, it’s no wonder the item means a lot to him. That is exactly why the two best friends had developed a dynamic around it.

They would tie an oath to the object in order to ensure it would be kept, and if the promise was broken, the other would get to stab the traitor with it. The game had been something Mitch and Harry had conjured up decades ago while under the influence of some very strong psychedelics, but it had stuck, for some reason. It’s simply a playful inside joke, and though it’s a tad gruesome, it’s hardly an issue considering they both self-heal quickly. Any damage inflicted is equivalent to that of a rubber band snapping against their skin, so in the end, no harm, no foul. At its core, it’s just a vampire’s version of a pinky swear, hence the term, “Betsy swear.” Harry had thought about getting it patented, at one point.

The jade-eyed boy feels a weight lift off his shoulders as Mitch indulges one of his signature quiet chuckles. “Alright, fine. Betsy swear, then. The reason we’re here is ‘cause I wanted to check up on you before we left, and ‘cause I wanted to make sure you switched the reservation. You never got back to me about it.”

“Oh, my bad. I got it done, though. Everything should check out.” Harry reassures, waving away his visitor’s doubt. He’d tended to the job last night after Y/N fell asleep and he meant to send a confirmation text, but forgot when the mortal had begun to stir randomly. He’d had to put away his phone and pretend to be unconscious for a few minutes until her agitation melted away, resulting in the deed going undone, courtesy of the mild panic that had dulled his memory. “Why didn’t you just text me about it?”

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, pursing his lips to fight off an entertained grin. “Oh, I did. Multiple times, actually. But I reckon you were too busy with the treadmill to notice.”

The older creature’s reference works as intended, an irritating flush crawling up Harry’s neck and pouring into his ears, garnering a fit of cackles on his companion’s behalf.

“Fuck off.” Harry grumbles as he shoves Mitch’s shoulder, but the insult is hard to take seriously when he’s wrestling a smirk of his own.

“Is it the girl from the club?” The lanky man inquires curiously, tilting his head to the side with an impressed air. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? That’s a record, I think. You’ve never kept one around that long.”

“What can I say, the sex is good.” Harry shrugs easily, tucking a couple of rebellious curls away from his eyes, which gleam crimson red as a supporting factor to his next comment. “And the blood is even better.”

Mitch rolls his irises playfully. “Alright, Casanova, pipe down.” He glances over his friend’s rumpled appearance, taking in the slightly damp skin, wild hair, and the plethora of faded hickies peeking through the boy’s robe, littering his chest and collarbones. “She’s got you on a tight leash, I see.”

“It’s only fair, considering she spends most of that time in my handcuffs. Quid pro quo and all that.” Harry quips back, bursting into laughter when Mitch gags dramatically.

“You know you could’ve just brought her along, right?” Mitch suggests, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We each have our own rooms, remember? No one would get in the way of your little late night jogs. Though I can’t say the same for the other hotel guests. She’s not necessarily subtle.”

Harry presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek coyly. “It’s not my fault I’m good in bed. It’s a curse, really. Could never get away with dressing room sex.”

He contemplates Mitch's offer for a second. He thinks it could be a fun time, but then he recalls that the trip to Vegas is a week-long party, which Y/N can’t indulge because she works a regular nine-to-five. Plus, a human in a car full of vampires sounds like the introduction to an ominous joke. Something is bound to slip, especially because no one in the crew is used to having humans around outside of meal hours. He doesn’t want the responsibility of constantly having to wipe her brain.

Aside from that, most of the vampires that mill around Vegas aren’t as cultured as Harry’s friends. They lack restraint, a conscience, and fear of consequences, given that the city’s crazy reputation provides the perfect cover for all those dangerous behaviors. That makes them deadly predators to someone as trusting and unsuspecting as Y/N, and having to continuously protect her would be too much of a hassle. It’s supposed to be a vacation; the last thing he needs is for it to turn into an episode of Shark Week. It’s best to stay put.

Harry shakes his head after a minute, clearing his throat. “But I think I’m good. Bringing along a human isn’t worth all the trouble she might cause. Thank you, though.”

Mitch bobs his head in understanding, well aware of the problems Harry is alluding to. “You have a point.” He pauses for a second in thought, shaking his head at the idea of having to deal with the insanity that surrounds their Vegas siblings. “I guess I’ll just see you next week, then, yeah? Better get going.”

The younger vampire mirrors his nod, opening his arms for a hug, which Mitch gladly takes. He’s not one for affection, that much is clear, but he makes certain exceptions here and there, and of course his friends file under that category. And every now and then, Y/N does too.

“See you next week.” He pulls away from the embrace with a hard pat to Mitch’s shoulder, smiling softly. “Send tons of pictures, okay? And videos of Niall getting shitfaced. I need new blackmail content.”

“Will do.” Mitch squeezes his best friend’s shoulders tightly, beaming at him in return. He then cranes towards his two fellow guests, whistling to gain their attention from the passionate conversation they seem to be having about Harry’s robe. “Time to head out, Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Who’s who?” Niall questions childishly, raising an eyebrow. “Because I think I should be Clyde. Xander has Bonnie vibes.”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes, you do.” The Irish boy reasons, cocking his head knowingly. “You seem like the type who would cheat on a murderer with another criminal from the same jail. You’ve got a knack for drama, like most women.”

Xander crosses his arms stubbornly. “No, I don’t.”

“You do, actually.” Harry butts in, eyes twinkling slyly as the group starts to wander towards the exit. He decides to get revenge for the teasing from earlier. “You moan just like one, too.”

Xander blushes bright red, diving into the shadow of the corridor to avoid any more ridicule. “I’m leaving.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

The other vampires laugh as they follow behind Harry’s ex-fling, waving their final goodbyes. As soon as the front door echoes shut, the immortal turns on his heel and heads back towards the glass stairs, beginning to undo the silk ribbon knotted around his hips.

He’s got his own partner in crime to attend to.

///

That night, Y/N and Harry end up bidding each other farewell in the corridor of his condo.

That seems to be a common theme in their relationship, he’s come to find. It’s usually the entrance to her own apartment instead of his, but the motif is there, nonetheless: They always end up meeting in a hallway, every single time.

“Thanks for having me over.” Y/N murmurs in her signature gentle dialect, smiling delicately as she skids the toe of her sneaker against the ground of the carpet outside his door, trying to keep the butterflies in her tummy tame. It was an incredible two days— maybe the best weekend she’s ever had, if she’s being honest. “I had a lot of fun.”

Harry leans his bare shoulder against his threshold, clad in nothing but a pair of royal blue boxers and black ankle socks, freely showing off the collection of love bites and scratches Y/N had so kindly finished gifting him a few hours ago. She’d gone wild the second he’d unlocked the metal cuffs and he’s more than happy with the results.

The stains speckle his broad chest and the expanse of his taut neck, dark and obvious beneath the complex’s buttery lighting. Bruises trace down his stomach and across his ribs, a neat row of four hickies centered vertically between his two fern inkings. They disappear suggestively under the elastic band of his underwear and she can feel flashes of heat layer across her cheeks, her mind recalling all the filthy sounds he’d made when she had created them.

The human peels away from the artwork that is Harry’s marked torso, glancing around nervously at the fact that some stranger might see the fruit of their actions. The vampire’s lips twitch at her concern; it baffles him how she can be such a devil in between the sheets, but such a shy, reserved angel in every other aspect. It’s cute.

Harry reaches forward and takes her warm fingers into his larger hand, thumbing over her knuckles appreciatively as his irises glitter smugly amidst his lashes, a smirk stringing his pillowy mouth. “We always have a lot of fun.”

Y/N squeezes his palm playfully, gnawing into her cheek and humming in agreement. “That, we do.”

A moment of comfortable silence suspends the air between them, the only sound being the faint footsteps of people on the levels above and below, alongside the light skidding of the elevator as it delivers patrons to their destinations. Harry is the first to speak up again.

“What was your favorite part?”

Y/N blinks up at him blankly, slightly startled at the random question, but moreso at being put on the spot.

“Oh, uh…” She laughs shakily, struggling to recall everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. There had been so much bare skin and desperate tongues involved, she can hardly pick through her memories without her ears prickling. “I think...I think the shower was my favorite. It was nice and relaxing. Helped me unwind.”

Harry nods in recognition, turning through the pages in his mind and skimming through the instance she’s referring. “It was pretty nice, yeah. You look good in a soap beard.”

Y/N scoffs at his joking compliment. “Thanks. I’ll grow it out more often. Just for you.”

The young man reaches up and grips over his chest in fake passion, face contorted into a wistful expression. “That’s all I ask.”

The pair break into childish giggles and the sensation of Harry rubbing across the top of her hand is starting to make her head fuzzy. “What about yours? What was your favorite?”

Harry mulls over his own topic for a few seconds, lips puckering in thought as his eyes narrow pensively. The comically adorable picture makes Y/N’s heart skip.

“I think…” Harry lists his gaze downwards back onto his patiently-awaiting friend, lips spreading into his patented dazzling smile. “I think it was probably the Hamilton reenactment.”

Y/N brows jump, mood slightly unconvinced. “Really?”

The vampire nods confidently, his own eyebrows inching upwards, voice amused. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Y/N shrugs offhandedly, glimpsing down at where the ridges of his thumb are delivering soothing shots of bliss into her veins. “You’re just so...y’know...you… so I guess I just expected you’d have a preference for the more…” She chooses her next words carefully, not wanting to be so brazen with the risk of someone overhearing, “...intimate parts of the weekend.”

“Wow, okay. Just call me a whore to my face, then. That’s fine.”

Y/N throws her free hand upwards in a fist, slugging Harry on the shoulder with appalled shock overtaking her features. His boyish chuckles echo off the walls of the building as she whips her head around to make sure no one had witnessed his dirty bluntness. “You know what I mean!”

“Yeah.” He purposefully raises his voice, nearly shouting the following sentence just to get on her nerves. “You’re slut-shaming me!”

Y/N surges forward, trying to clamp her hand over his mouth and save herself the embarrassment. “Harry, shut up!”

He easily fights her off, his supernatural strength beating hers tenfold. She ends up wrapped in his embrace, flushed against his hard chest as he sticks his tongue out at her mockingly. He drops his tone back down to normal, his two front teeth digging into his lower lip to keep more laughter from bubbling over. “That’s not nice. You should stop conforming to society’s outdated ‘sex is taboo’ narrative.”

“I wasn’t—” Y/N starts insistently, but then she realizes she’s become almost as loud as him so she forces her voice to taper into an alarmed hiss instead. “I wasn’t slut-shaming you! I was simply expressing—”

“You just see me as a toy, don’t you?” The creature cuts her off, lips dipping downwards into a glorified frown. He proceeds to bat his lashes and sniffle, packing as many theatrics as possible into his mopey act. “I have feelings, y’know? My big dick and cunnilingus skills aren’t my only redeeming qualities! You should be ashamed of yourself for objectifying me like that.”

Y/N presses her lips together to ward off an immature grin, rattling her head to get herself under control. She gives him a stern look, warning him to cut it out. “Stop being a child.”

“Stop using me for sex and making derogatory assumptions about my promiscuity.”

“Oh, hop of it! You use me right back. It’s mutual.”

“Which is why the slut-shaming is such a paradox.”

“For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t fucking— You know what? You can’t even pin me on the objectification part because you do it to me all the time!”

“Oh, is that so?” Harry prods with a humorous tilt of his head, squeezing at her love handles and swimming in the way she wriggles around. “Elaborate.”

“When you slapped my ass in the shower. Or when you put your hand under my shirt to play with my chest while we watch TV.” Y/N debates, poking at the thorax of his butterfly tattoo. “Very objectifying, if you ask me.”

“Mm, not quite, darling.” The vampire shakes his head and draws her closer, ducking down to flirt the tip of his nose along the slope of hers. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh, yeah?” She digs her nails into his pectorals, discreetly savoring the strong muscles. “What is it?”

Harry glimpses down at where she’s carving indents into his flesh, enjoying the minute pain more than he should. He drifts his mouth closer towards her ear, inhaling the scent of his shampoo wafting from her silky strands of hair. “The difference is that you’re usually begging me to do all those things.”

Y/N’s teeth grind in begrudging defeat, her spine giving a surrendered shiver at his crude point. “Whatever.”

Harry releases her body, haughty victory written all over his posture. “I rest my case.”

Y/N’s pride blazes, a threat falling from her tongue sharply, but it holds no true intentions. “Maybe I should just stop asking you to, then.”

“You won’t.” The boy sighs airily, tapping his bare foot against the ground without a care in the world. “You like me too much.”

“Even if I like you, I’d have enough dignity to stop seeing you if I wanted.” Y/N huffs, making a face at him to emphasize her stance. “It’s this little thing called ‘willpower.’”

“Yeah, well, we both know you and your willpower are gonna end up texting my number Friday night, asking me to come over for some more interior design advice.” Harry snarkily dismisses, presenting a scenario where he’s holding an invisible phone in his hands, pretending to tap out a message. His voice comes out high-pitched, mimicking her own. “Hey, one of the rungs on my headboard came loose. Can you come help me fix it?”

Y/N stares at him with eyes half-lidded in pettiness. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You’re right. You’re a tad more nasally.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it, love.”

Y/N socks him on the shoulder again as retribution, though it barely has an impact.

After a couple heartbeats full of vengeful silence, Y/N chimes up with a jesting tone, though the manner in which she’s picking at her nails tells Harry she’s slightly anxious. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to send out a text inviting you to come over Friday...would you?”

A lopsided simper pops the immortal’s dimples awake. He shifts on his feet, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. “Hypothetically speaking, I think I could very well make it.”

Y/N chews on her lower lip as the apples of her cheeks jolt. “Ok, well...Let’s say— once again, hypothetically— that I should be home by eight that day. Would that work for you?”

Harry cocks his head from side to side as if churning the offer around his mind. “I think that, hypothetically, that fits right into my schedule.”

The human’s belly flops in giddy excitement. “Great. It’s booked, then. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“Of course.” Harry agrees, the reply accompanied by a teasing furrow of his sculpted brows and a curt nod.

Y/N clasps her hands in front of her thighs with finality, giving him a bright smile. “Alright, then. I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week.” Harry confirms with a cheeky wink, running his tongue along his top teeth to keep from bursting into giggles. “Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically.” Y/N states with a slight bow of her head, tucking one hand into the back pocket of her dark jeans as she takes a step back from the front door with a small wave. She turns on her heel to face the elevator at the other end of the hall, her foot lifting to take the first step towards the exit.

“Wait.”

The mortal looks back towards her friend, eyebrows poised in question.

Harry scratches at the nape of his neck, smiling softly. “I could really go for a goodbye kiss. Not-so-hypothetically.”

Y/N blinks at him in wonder. He’s never asked for one before.

The awkward aura that quickly fills the space between them becomes suffocating. He considers the option of telling her he was just joking to spare himself the humiliation, but he doesn’t get the chance. Y/N lurches forward, teetering onto the tips of her toes and buttoning her lips to his. The spontaneous action makes him swallow his words.

He fumbles to cup her jaw, kissing her back with just as much fervor and feeling the coldness of his skin fizzle away under her inherent warmth. The gesture isn’t sexual or desperate, but simply sweet and fulfilling. He enjoys it, though it’s not surprising given that he enjoys her lips touching him in any and every way imaginable. He’s not exactly sure why he’d made this particular request— it’s very out of character for him, in every sense of the phrase— but he deduces it’s likely because he wants one more thing to cling onto until he gets to feel her mouth again. It’s not uncommon to want a little something extra to get through the tougher nights, so it’s truly not that big of an occurrence. It’s only reasonable.

Y/N breaks their exchange, eyes glassy and so beautifully clear as she pecks his chin one last time in a polite farewell. “Text me if you need me...And especially if you need me.”

Harry gulps thickly at the suggestive statement, nodding numbly as her body heat slips away. “Will do. Thanks. And thanks for the kiss. Needed it to tide me over until Friday.”

“My pleasure. See you later, Holmes.”

Harry waits patiently until Y/N’s figure disappears behind the gilded doors of the fancy elevator, watching the closed slates of metal glint coldly under the blurry lighting of the condominium’s corridor. He walks back into his apartment, shutting the door gently and slouching into the plush cushions of his leather sofa with a detached sigh. He gazes up at his extravagant chandeliers, once again left in the empty solitude he’d grown so fond of in his extensive lifetime. There’s not a single sound or motion invading his seclusion, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his rug, and everything is so still and quiet, it’s almost deafening. But despite every aspect being as it should, he can’t shake the sensation that something is off. Something is wrong. Something’s missing.

And for the first time in years, he finds himself feeling more lonely than alone.

///

It only takes Harry about an hour of uneventful isolation to realize he’s made a grave mistake.

He should have gone on the trip.

Despite the fact that the vampire lives alone, he very rarely spends any time without seeing his friends. Since they all reside in the same building, it’s fairly easy for him to find some entertainment whenever boredom strikes. He’ll either go up a floor to Mitch’s place to watch a movie or mess around with his collection of vintage guitars, or he’ll go a level below to visit Adam and talk about any new art exhibits opening up around the area. He could visit Niall three floors above to play some FIFA on his gaming console and share porn recommendations, or even take the elevator to the twelfth floor to bother Xander and talk some shit while they do each other’s nails. And if Harry’s feeling extra needy for attention, he could always just invite them all over to his place so the group could go out for some Thai food at the restaurant down the street, or go see a movie at the cinema, or take a ride to their favorite local bar.

No matter the circumstances, his friends are always readily available for him when he needs them, so he very solemnly spends his days alone. That is, until now.

The entire crew had left for the Vegas trip and— as a result of his own irresponsibility and immature hormones— had left him all by himself for the next seven days. He would never admit it aloud to spare himself the ridicule of being overly sappy, but he misses the group. He misses Mitch’s soft voice and quiet wittiness, and he misses Adam’s cheeky banter and random fun facts, and he misses Niall’s inappropriate jokes and boisterous laughter, and he even misses Xander’s annoying digs and childish pettiness. He didn’t know how much he took it all for granted until it was gone.

For the rest of the week, Harry is practically miserable. The guys don’t text him much, which can be expected since the whole point of the holiday is to enjoy every second of it; there would be no point in traveling four hours just to sit in their hotel and message him. He talks to Y/N a bit, but she is also occupied most of the time with work, given that she had to take on a few extra shifts on behalf of her co-workers. The earliest she goes in is six A.M., the latest she comes out is nine P.M., and by then, Harry reckons she’s probably falling asleep in the entrance corridor of her home. He understands her exhaustion and therefore doesn’t expect her to humor him; it wouldn’t be fair.

With everyone in his life busy and with his flat feeling colder and emptier than ever, it’s a miracle he doesn’t go mad within its walls. He goes out a handful of times to do some grocery shopping, for a run around a nearby park, and to take a walk along his favorite mall, but that’s it, really. He doesn’t go out to eat simply because he thinks it would be embarrassing having to sit alone at a restaurant; it’s pitiful and sad and he’s not going to subject himself to that. The most stimulating social interaction he has that week is a tie between a bit of flirting with a Target cashier, some suggestive gazing exchanged with a Starbucks barista, and a couple of cheeky caresses from a Gucci store employee taken while measuring his waist for a custom order. None of it satisfies him the way it normally does, though, and he can’t place why.

By the time Friday evening rolls around, Harry is a hair short from letting his regular case of stir-crazy slip into a full-on psychotic break. That’s why he ends up at Y/N’s complex earlier than the agreed-upon hour, stepping out of his Cadillac with twenty minutes left to spare and with a certain desperation eating away at the back of his skull.

The creature casually jogs up the worn steps to her floor, the only sound being the heels of his maroon velvet boots clicking against the cement ground. He whistles softly to the vague tune of a new pop song that had been playing on the radio— Wet Ass something?— as he tucks his phone into his pocket and brushes a few traces of lint off his freshly-ironed button-up.

His outfit for tonight is nothing too spectacular, but it isn’t too lazy, either. It’s a long-sleeve black silk shirt with glass buttons and a pair of large swallows embroidered along either sides of his chest, the threads dyed royal and pastel blue, cherry red, and creamy yellow. The top is cuffed up his elbows and unbuttoned down to his butterfly tattoo, showing off his naturally tanned skin and matching swallow inkings, the cross on his delicate chain centered between his pecs and twinkling under the flickering lights. He’d coupled the loose blouse with some black skinny jeans, a dark leather belt, a small golden hoop earring, and his trusty collection of rings and necklaces. In his opinion, it’s a proper look for a planned-out booty call. Formal, but easy to rip off. Especially in a blind hurry.

Harry figures that he’ll check to see if Y/N is home, just to cover the bases. If she isn’t, he’ll tred back down the stairs and wait for her in his car. If she is, then that’s all the better; there’s no damage in starting a bit earlier than scheduled. It makes for a better recoup period between rounds.

The immortal turns the corner into the familiar hallway where Y/N’s flat is located, one of his hands already forming into a loose fist with the intention of knocking on her door. He makes it about five paces before he’s slapped with an image that causes him to stop cold in his tracks, his whistling coming to an abrupt halt.

Harry blinks repeatedly and lowers the frame of his pink Gucci sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, wanting to make sure the scene before him isn’t a figment of his imagination. Much to his displeasure, it isn’t.

About three meters ahead, situated right in front of her door with her back facing towards him, is Y/N. That isn’t the odd aspect of the picture, though. What’s odd is that her usual grimy work attire is missing, which he had expected to see given that he knows she always goes to the cafe on Fridays. Instead, she is clad in the pastel blue floral sundress she had worn for him all those weeks back, when they had slept together for the second time. And instead of wearing her scuffed up Vans, she is wearing a pair of pretty tan sandals. And instead of having her hair up in a frizzy ponytail, it’s down and fanned around her shoulders in a glossy sheen of tousled curls. And she’s wearing perfume— the same one she had worn the night they met. He can smell it from here and it makes his brows furrow in confusion. She never wears perfume to work; she says it’s forbidden since it can make customers nauseous.

But aside from all of those unorthodox details, there is one specific factor above all that throws Harry for the biggest loop he’s encountered in the last five weeks of knowing her.

Y/N isn’t alone. She’s accompanied by another man.

Harry gives the stranger a calculating once-over, taking in every aspect of the boy’s appearance. He has to keep himself from sputtering into laughter. This has to be some type of fucking joke.

The bloke is fit, he’ll give him that, at least. He’s handsome and somewhat muscular, but in a manner that is painfully cliche and utterly boring. He has sandy blonde hair that falls across his forehead in a shaggy sideways bang, eyes the color of a Malibu beach, and generally soft features with the exception of decent cheekbones. He’s wearing a dull orange polo, khaki pants, Levi sneakers, and an annoyingly giant watch on his wrist that gives the impression he’s trying to show off. Harry nearly vomits in his mouth.

Who the fuck would wear a polo willingly? And how brain dead does he have to be to think khakis are still in style? His fashion sense is obviously stunted. It appears his brain is stuck in his middle school phase, when the Justin Bieber haircut and douchey brands were all the rave amongst snotty pre-teens. Also, his watch is an embarrassment. Harry doesn’t know what the guy is attempting— and failing— to show off, considering the accessory is chunky and ugly and not even Versace or Rolex. It’s a disgrace.

As if the forced posh demeanor isn’t enough, the imbecile actually has the guts to have a fake tan. The vampire isn’t surprised, unfortunately, given that eighty percent of all Los Angeles residents think it’s acceptable to dip-dye themselves into a carrot. He faintly wonders if the man’s balls are colored, as well, or if his ass and sack are as pale as his personality probably is. That would be quite the comedic sight either way. Creamsicles for the win, he supposes.

Harry may not be alarmed by the blonde boy’s get-up, but he is disgusted. Thoroughly disgusted. Horrifically disgusted. What is Y/N doing with this moron?

According to what he’s gathered from her personality and the pillow talks they often share, she hates the California stereotype almost as much as he does, if not more. She hates the fake tans and bleached hair and lack of conscience. She hates the outdated teenage brands, cringey jewelry, and fraternity member aesthetic. She especially hates the fact that some of these people don’t understand the basic principles of boundaries. And the thing is, this dude-bro of a man definitely ticks all of those boxes— especially with how close he’s standing next to her, looming above her frame with one arm extended against the surface of her door, trying to look nonchalant and cool as he drawls on about whatever topic they’re discussing.

He’s practically the poster child for everything the girl despises, from the straightened hair to the alter boy church pants to the stupid forest tattoo on his forearm. So what in the flying fuck is she doing entertaining him? What is she doing standing outside her apartment with this trashy, bacon strip-looking, youth leader knock-off, 2012 Bieber impersonator of a human?

It has to be a joke. It just has to. There’s no other valid explanation, except maybe a plea of insanity.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s scowling until the stranger makes eye contact with him. The boy’s face breaks into an expression of unsettled discomfort at the way the vampire is peering at him over his sunglasses, allowing his end of the conversation to falter to dust. Y/N’s brows cinch at the occurrence, her attention peeling away to follow where her date’s had wandered.

The second her gaze locks with Harry’s intense own, she feels her heart drop to her stomach. Fuck.

Let it be known Y/N didn’t want this. She didn’t want to go on a date with Jacob. In fact, she didn’t know who Jacob was until halfway through this week and she honestly wishes it had stayed that way. She wishes she hadn’t picked up Melissa’s shift with Isabel, she wishes she hadn’t offered to wait that extra table in the back out of the kindness in her heart, and she wishes she hadn’t caught the attention of the customer inhabiting it.

As it turns out, the young man was Isabel’s cousin. He had come to pick her up since the girl’s car had been stuck at the shop for the last few days, and he had arrived a bit earlier than intended, deciding to sit at the back table to wait out the final ten minutes of his relative’s shift. Y/N had simply assumed that he was a regular customer, so she had gone to give him the usual trained introduction in order to follow the golden rule of customer service: Don’t keep a guest waiting.

Jacob had explained the situation to Y/N, to which she responded with a light laugh and an instinctive apology. She had told him she’d go fetch Isabel for him and bid the boy goodbye. In her rational opinion, she had thought that would be it— a simple crossing of two paths that would likely never cross again— but evidently, the visitor had a very different idea.

The human’s shift had continued as planned and everything had been going great until Isabel ducked into the kitchen right before leaving, dancing her way across the room and poking her coworker playfully in the tummy. Apparently, from what Isabel had giddily told her, Jacob had taken an interest in Y/N. It was a bit ridiculous, if you asked her, considering they’d only talked for a total of about thirty seconds before parting routes. But Y/N hadn’t voiced that opinion; she didn’t want to come off as rude.

Jacob had asked his cousin to set them up on a date and that is why Isabel had gone into the back before leaving. Y/N’s immediate impulse had been to decline. She wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at the moment. Other than Harry, of course. He handled all her needs just fine and they got on so well, she’d be crazy to replace him with some random guy she barely knew. She had gone to express this to Isabel in a gentler manner with an apologetic tone, but the words had ended up lodging in her throat. The girl had stared at Y/N with so much excitement, she’d immediately felt a wave of guilt erupt into her chest.

She found it difficult to refuse, given that turning down the offer might come off as bitchy and insensitive. Here Isabel was, trying to innocently play match-maker on behalf of someone she cared about, buzzing with glee and smiling at her so big, her cheeks probably hurt. The last thing Y/N wanted was to upset her by basically telling her that Jacob wasn’t up to par with her standards. Rejecting him could be something her acquaintance took personally and Y/N didn’t want to have to deal with drama in the workplace, especially not with someone whose shifts often mirror her own.

Y/N had reluctantly agreed to the invitation, her only request being that she had to be home by seven thirty. That would give her enough time to prepare for Harry’s visit.

Her compliance had landed her where she is now, standing in front of her apartment door with a boy she has no interest in.

It had been a terrible date, though Jacob took no notice of that. He spent the entire dinner talking about himself, going on and on about his college years, and about how he works at a popular surf shop and could probably get her discounted lessons, and about how he doesn’t think he could survive without his Jeep. How he plays guitar and wants to be a famous actor, how he doesn’t understand why people dislike fake tanning, and how his dad owns a country club in South Carolina. How he loves sports, how he thinks museums are dumb, and how he likes girls who are willing to cook for him after they hookup. How he loves going clubbing and that he misses his ex.

Y/N had nearly groaned out loud at the last two.

It was cruel and unusual torture, in all honestly, and Y/N is just glad it’s over. She’d fulfilled her role— she’d even been nice enough to dress up, to at least finge interest— and could now go free, never having to hear another word about surfboard wax or college football ever again. If only he’d fucking leave.

Jacob had insisted on walking her to the door, which would be sweet if she hadn’t developed a burning hatred for him in the last hour. It came off as annoying and pushy instead, but she allowed it on the grounds of maintaining a polite front.

She shouldn’t have allowed it. As soon as they’d gotten to her door, he’d started talking all over again and Y/N had no choice but to stand there and listen. She couldn’t go anywhere, given that this is her place and she’s expecting someone. She figured she’d give him until seven fifty and then make up an excuse about having to go to the bathroom in order to get him to piss off. That plan had crumbled when Harry had shown up twenty minutes early.

The look of inflamed shock that poses Harry’s handsome features makes her stomach curdle.

She hadn’t meant for him to see this. She’d only gone on the date to spare herself some petty trouble with a coworker. Nothing was bound to come of it, other than a free meal and a guilt-free conscience. It didn’t mean anything and she had no intention of letting it get in between what she and Harry have going. But from an outside perspective, she knows it looks much different.

The agreement they have isn’t exclusive by any means, but over the last five weeks, the pair have grown pretty comfortable with one another and had given connotations that they weren’t kindling other possible relationships. There’s a type of silent agreement between them that if they were to seek out other people, they would share that information with each other on the grounds of courtesy, friendship, and respect. But Y/N hadn’t said a word to spare him the baseless stress and now he’d run into her smack in the middle of what appears to be a very compromising situation; things aren’t looking good at all. It looks like she’s losing interest in Harry and couldn’t be bothered to tell him. It looks like she’s out for a replacement. It looks like she doesn’t care about their connection at all.

This is bad. This is really bad.

Y/N’s voice comes out as a shrill shriek of surprise, her body turning abruptly to fully face his rigid own. “Harry! Uh— hi!”

Harry blinks at her emptily for a moment and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. She can’t read his mind or his expression, but she reckons he’s probably trying to decide if he should follow through on their rendezvous or if he should just leave and never talk to her again. The idea of him choosing the latter makes her mouth go sour.

The vampire’s emerald irises flit back and forth between his friend and the unknown man behind her, trying to interpret the tone and texture of the circumstance. She’s obviously on a date, if her appearance is any indication, and it’s obviously coming to a close right now, exactly when he’s scheduled to arrive.

That’s the determining factor that helps him decide his next move.

Y/N had invited Harry over last Sunday, meaning that she had made their commitment first. This date had to have come into play later in the week, and she had purposefully planned it around their agreed hour in order to give him her undivided attention when the time came. If she had gone out with this guy and then rushed back home to get to him, that must mean she doesn’t plan on indulging another meeting with the stranger. She hadn’t cancelled his visit, either, so that also suggests she isn’t truly interested in this bloke. That makes sense...right?

But that still begs the question: Why had she gone out with him in the first place?

He knows he isn’t owed an explanation, but he also knows that Y/N isn’t the type of person who would just blindside him like this. She isn’t soulless— she’s sweet and caring and generous, so she would never drop him without any warning or consideration for his feelings. She’d never abandon him without telling him why. She’d never do anything that might run a chance of hurting him.

The immortal is more than aware he doesn’t have the right to be upset about it, either. Their arrangement is loose and open on both ends and he likes it that way. He likes that their relationship isn’t weighed down by commitment and monogamy; it gives him a sense of freedom and independence he’s known to thrive off of. It lets him be himself without playing her emotions, and without causing a ruckus in the plans she has for her new life. And he gets the same in return— he gets to have his needs attended without sacrificing his core beliefs. Their friends with benefits trope rides along the wings of an official bond, only giving them what they want and nothing they don’t, which is how it was meant to be. How it should be.

So why does seeing her with someone else make him feel sick to his stomach?

Harry shakes off the ball of contempt writhing in his chest, clearing the tightness from his throat and molding his expression into a facade of calm indifference. Jealousy is for idiots.

The vampire fully wraps his perched fingers around the rim of his sunglasses, removing them from the arch of his nose and tucking the shades along the collar of his shirt. He forces his feet to do their job, his lanky legs lurching forward and falling into a casual stride as he walks towards the two humans awaiting a response.

Harry comes to a stop beside the mortals, clasping his bejeweled hands behind his back and plastering a dazzling grin across his cheeks. He regards his friend with a slight bow of his head, voice airy and carefree as ever. “Hey, Y/N.”

She almost faints in relief. Thank God he’s not mad.

Y/N returns his smile, shoulders visibly relaxing. “It’s nice to see you.”

“S’nice to see you, too. Always such a…” He pauses, licking at the corner of his lips suggestively, giving her a knowing once-over that only she can interpret, “pleasure.”

The girl ignores the heat that immediately floods her cheeks. Of course he’s doing this in front of Jacob. Of course he’s peacocking. “Likewise.”

Harry trains his attention onto the young man before him, pursing his lips into a polite smile. As polite as he can muster, anyways. “And who’s this?”

Y/N blinks herself back into the present, quickly glancing away from Harry’s sharp jaw, though it doesn’t go unnoticed. He feels his ego swell a smidge.

“This is Jacob.” The human comments easily, signaling to him with an upturned palm. “He’s Isabel’s cousin. You remember Isabel, right? You met her at the club.”

“I don’t think I do, actually.” Harry murmurs, glimpsing up towards the ceiling to suggest he’s wracking his thoughts. He has a very vague recollection of the two girls he’d momentarily encountered the day he’d first met Y/N, but it’s hazy and unimportant.

He looks back down at her with sparkling irises, rosy lips twitching with amusement at his next words, knowing they’re going to have a favorable impact. “I guess I was just too distracted by you to pay much attention to anyone else.”

He can hear more blood rush into her face and the ecstasy it brings him is immeasurable. He cranes his sight back onto Jacob, who has the slightest crease in his brows at Harry’s compliment. Good. That’s exactly what he wanted.

The monster unclamps his hands and juts one out stiffly towards the mortal. “M’Harry. Good to meet you, mate.”

Jacob returns the gesture, grasping Harry’s hand firmly in a way the vampire knows is to try and establish dominance. It tickles him when humans try to be tough, especially because Harry could tear his arm right out of its socket as easily as he could lift a sheet of paper. The creature tightens his grip to match the man’s, purposefully putting a tad more strength in to make a silent point. He has to withhold the urge to crunch the boy’s fingers to dust.

They both release from the exchange and a wave of dark satisfaction trickles into Harry’s bones when he sees Jacob curl and stretch his digits in mild pain.

Y/N watches the whole scene with a breath trapped in her lungs. This feels surreal.

The blonde clears his throat softly, mouth jilting into an empty smile and it’s obvious he’s only doing it just to keep things civil. “Good to meet you, too. I take it you’re British?”

“Pure-bred.” Harry remarks proudly, shrugging his shoulders offhandedly as if it’s no big deal. His gaze slinks towards Y/N for a second, tongue pushing along the inside of his cheek smugly. “It works wonders with the ladies.”

A flicker of spite stains the blue in Jacob’s eyes and the vampire feels like his soul is ascending. This is fun.

“I can only imagine.” His opponent responds, voice somewhat strained as he directs his next question to the two friends. “So how do you know each other?”

Harry opens his mouth to make an arrogant comment along the lines of, “A club. A few drinks. Some amazing sex. Y’know, the usual.” but Y/N knows him well enough that she anticipates it, speaking over him loudly before he can even get a syllable out.

“We met at a club and hit it off really well. Been friends ever since.”

The immortal has to keep himself from adding something snarky to the end of her summary. He only does it because he can see a sharp warning flash across Y/N’s eyes. It’s wordless, but stern nonetheless: Don’t.

Harry swallows down his dig and feels it burn a hole in his stomach. Why is she protecting his feelings?

In all honesty, Y/N is only doing it out of kindness and nothing else. As annoying as Jacob may be, he doesn’t deserve to be embarrassed simply because Harry wants to feed his pride. It may be funny, but it’s pretty immature.

“Right.” Harry sighs happily, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Friends. Good friends. Close friends. Intimate friends.”

Y/N presses her lips into a straight line to keep herself in check. He’s trying to work her over and, unfortunately, he’s succeeding.

“That’s nice.” Jacob nods casually, the innuendo luckily going right over his head.

“Yeah, it is.” Harry states, eyes glinting mischievously as he quickly studies the man once again. He can’t help himself, he truly can’t. Not when this terribly-styled buffoon makes it so fucking easy. “I like your tan, by the way.”

The human looks down at his arms for significance, eyes brightening. “Thank you! I got it done at that new place in—”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Looks almost real.”

Jacob blinks blankly at the backhanded compliment. “Oh—?”

“I mean, it’s got a few streaks here and there and your left arm looks a little more orange, but I think—”

“Anyways!” Y/N swiftly cuts in, interrupting her friend’s judgmental spiel and directing her attention towards her date. “Harry and I were actually planning on going to see a movie, which is why I had to be home by seven-thirty— we do it every Friday. And the movie starts at eight and traffic’s a bitch, so that’s why I was in such a hurry to get home.”

Jacob nods slowly, giving her a sweet, understanding smile that makes Harry’s supernatural blood boil. “I see. Well, I—”

The vampire interrupts him once again, condescension flaring in his chest and dancing across the specks of amber surrounding his pupils. “Yeah, Y/N and I go to the theater every Friday. Recently, we’ve been going to the movies every single day of the weekend. And most times, we see several movies a night.”

Y/N’s jaw clenches at Harry’s barely-veiled insinuation. She tries to talk over him, but he beats her to the punch.

“Y’know what I’m talking about, right, Y/N?” He nudges her side playfully with his elbow, ignoring the way her eyes tell him to cut it out. “Remember that time we saw three movies in one night? Or the one that had the jacuzzi in it?”

The girl glimpses over at Jacob, who looks utterly confused and uncomfortable. “Harry—”

“Or what about that crime film, yeah? The one with the handcuffs.” He pinches at her love handle teasingly, reveling in how her entire torso tenses under his touch. “The one where they grabbed the criminal and slammed them up against the mirror? You have to remember that one. It’s hard to forget.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough talk about—”

“Oh, c’mon, dove.” Harry slings an arm around her shoulders nonchalantly, squeezing her into his body and feeling Jacob’s glare pierce the side of his face. He stares intently into Y/N’s irises, dimples winking awake at the needy desperation gradually inking its way into their reflection. His tone comes out soft but heavy with authoritative suggestion— the kind he always uses in bed. “Tell me you remember.”

Y/N gulps quietly, mumbling her words begrudgingly. “Yeah, I...I remember.”

A coy hum runs along the back of the vampire’s throat as he licks across his top teeth slyly. “I think that was your favorite one, wasn’t it? You seemed to have really enjoyed it. Like, properly enjoyed it. Loved every single second, if I recall correctly.”

The human forces herself to cast her intent elsewhere, ears simmering and breathing stuttering ever so slightly. Her sight lands back onto a very frazzled Jacob, who is looking at the pair as if they’d sprouted horns, shifting unsurely across his feet. The expression of innocent befuddlement on his face makes guilt twist into her heart.

The mortal roughly shrugs off Harry’s arm, stepping forward and placing a palm on Jacob’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you so much for the date. It was...nice.”

Harry’s fists clench at his sides, though the action goes unnoticed.

The human boy nods giddily at Y/N, glancing down to where she’s touching him so tenderly. “‘Course! I had a great time, too.”

“Make sure to tell Isabel that. Maybe it’ll get her to do some sweeping on my behalf.” The girl jokes, giggling softly right along with the stranger.

Harry can feel his nails threatening to break into his skin.

“We really have to get going, though, so I guess I’ll see you around?” Y/N prods, gifting her date one last beautiful smile to ease the awkwardness that had settled into the atmosphere, courtesy of Harry’s antics.

“Sure!” Jacob bobs his head in agreement, pulling out his phone and swaying it symbolically. “You have my number, just text me whenever.”

“Sounds good.”

Once the young man’s footsteps have faded down the complex’s staircase, Y/N swivels around on her heel to face Harry, arms falling across her chest in an irritated fashion. Her face pinches with annoyance as he leans casually against her door, his own arms folding over his strong chest with his fingers tapping along the inside of his elbows, attitude depicting not a single care in the world.

He crosses his ankles easily, brows quirking at the way she’s blatantly glaring at him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that people whose names start with a letter ‘J’ are bound to ruin your life?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry!” Y/N snaps, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling as her glossed lips dip into an aggravated grimace. “Are you serious right now?”

He tilts his head curiously, stifling a simper. “What’s wrong, love?”

“What’s wrong?” She retorts with a humorless laugh, astonished at his ability to act so purposefully dense. “You’re a fucking dick, that’s what’s wrong.”

The vampire sputters into a round of boyish cackling, his entire body shaking against the surface below him as his eyes crinkle shut in mirth. Y/N would be further infuriated if it wasn’t so damn cute.

Harry’s laughter slowly dies down and once he has himself composed, his shoulders rise and fall once dismissively. “I was just fucking around. I didn’t think much of it.”

“You didn’t think—?” Y/N chokes out in indignation, stomping over to him and poking him straight in the chest, right over his butterfly tattoo. Her perfume makes his mind swim in the best way imaginable. “You didn’t think for a second, in that big head of yours, that talking about our sex life in front of my date was overstepping?”

Hearing Y/N officially refer to Jacob as her date makes Harry’s mood drop somberly. He tries to push it down and keep up a comical edge, but it’s harder than he’d care to admit. His accent comes out small and almost fragile, much to her surprise. “Well, I didn’t know you were on a date. Maybe if you had told me, I wouldn’t have come.”

His words sting for some unknown reason.

The mortal draws closer to him until he’s hovering above her, arms dropping down to her sides to fiddle with the hem of her dress as she tilts her chin upwards to get a better look at his stoney face. All anger melts right out of her voice, replaced by her usual delicate cadence. “Well, I...I didn’t think you’d care, really.”

“I don’t.” He replies a little too quickly, a small pang of regret pricking his chest when her face immediately falls. “I mean...I mean it as in, like...I’m not keeping tabs on you or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to limit you.”

Y/N looks back up at him from under her lashes, tone unreadable. “I didn’t think you were. Limiting me, that is. You don’t...limit me.”

Harry nods his head sharply in relieved confirmation, coughing a bit. His throat feels drier than usual and he knows it’s not for a blood-driven reason. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I do.”

“Alright.”

A charged silence befalls the ambiance between them and the vampire comes to the conclusion that getting his neck snapped was less painful than having this conversation. At least that was quick, whereas this is grueling and horribly uncomfortable, ridden with anxiety and too many elongated pauses. They are walking on extremely thin eggshells around one another, which is something they’ve never had to do before. They have always been on the same wavelength about their relationship and not once has such a nerve-inducing instance come to pass. Now a wrench has been thrown into their metaphorical mechanism and the nuts and bolts are dismantling by the handfuls, leaving them barren and closed-off more than ever. He can feel this situation straining their friendship and he hates it more than he hates those stupid tapestries she fancies.

“If you knew you were gonna be busy,” Harry starts carefully, gluing his attention to a random stain on the cement ground as he scuffs the heel of his boot against her dirty welcome mat, “why didn’t you just text me and cancel?”

Y/N takes a shaky inhale, focusing on tracing the faded cursive letters on her rug. “I...I still wanted you to come.”

Harry’s foot halts its motions, gaze jumping to her for a thoughtful second, brows knotting with mild confusion at her confession. If she still wants him in her bed, why was she indulging someone else? “You wanted me to come?...Why?”

“Because Fridays are our days.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. Our days. Their days. Theirs.

The brunette clears his throat to try and saw away at the tension, shifting against the door as the subject delves into heavier territory. He’s never been one to stutter— he’s much too confident in himself to ever have that issue— but it seems to have become a new development whenever Y/N is around. “If...If you want— uhm...If you want to see other people, you obviously don’t need my permission or anything. But I’d like a little heads-up, just so I know where we stand.”

Y/N releases a curt sigh of exasperation and somehow, Harry can tell it’s not aimed towards him. It’s aimed towards herself.

She fidgets with the tips of her fingers, talking to the floor but directing her message towards her friend. “It’s not what you think, H.”

Harry pins his intent back onto her face, intrigue fully peaked. “What do you mean?”

Y/N takes another trembling breath, releasing it through her nose as a tired exhale. She can feel him looming over her, waiting for an appropriate response with his lips set into a detached line, his ever-present aroma of vanilla and tobacco muddling her thoughts. “I...I mean the date. It wasn’t truly a real date, per se.”

The vampire’s eyes bore into her relentlessly as he clings onto every syllable she speaks. He’s clutching to a form of hope that he deems absolutely humiliating. “How so?”

Y/N picks at the chipping lavender polish on her nails and he finds it adorable how the color of the lacquer matches one of the main notes in her scent.

She speaks up softly and honestly, and he thinks he detects a shred of guilt to her explanation. “Isabel was the one who set it up. Her cousin came into the cafe and when he saw me, he asked her to get me to go on a date with him. I have no actual interest in Jacob, but I said yes just to be nice. I didn’t wanna upset Isabel by making her think her cousin wasn’t good enough for me or something. That’s the only reason I went.”

Harry slowly twists his lionhead daylight ring around his middle finger, simultaneously thumbing over the opal on his pinky. The stone is cold to the touch, but not nearly as cold as his skin.

He reiterates her story slowly, wanting to make sure he interpreted correctly. “So...you only went on the date because you felt bad? You don't actually like him?”

Y/N’s hands plop down against her thighs as she tilts her head back up to look at him, her tone and eyes completely deadpan. “Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound kind of mean.”

Harry snorts softly, mouth buckling into his signature crooked smirk. “It’s pretty cruel, to be honest— giving that poor bloke hope like that. Very malicious of you.”

Y/N kicks at his ankle jokingly, her lips toying with a grin. “Shut up.”

“You should be careful. Something tells me his ego bruises easily.”

“Oh, is that so? What makes you say that?”

The vampire sucks at his teeth, tapping his chin in faux thought as he shrugs his brows tauntingly. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably the overly-tight shirt and fraternity ring. Seems to me like he’s trying to make up for something he lacks. Probably in the intimacy department.”

Y/N chews along her cheek to keep from bursting into giggles. “You are cruel.”

“I prefer the term ‘brutally honest.’ Sounds classier.”

“Right. Because you’re all about class.”

“Heyyyy!” Harry whines in exaggerated insult, face contorting with dramatic offense. “I’m a classy guy! I have the English accent and fancy chandeliers to prove it!”

“Right. Super classy.”

“I’m a proper gentleman.” The monster huffs with begrudging finality, irises glitzing deviously. “That is, until you beg me to behave otherwise.”

“Fuck off.”

He looks down at her over the crests of his sharp cheekbones as she gazes up at him with a humorously flat expression, feeling all the pent-up stress from the previous events dissolve away into nothing. Harry reaches forward, taking a single curled strand of her hair and moving it behind her shoulder to get a better look at her face. The gesture makes Y/N’s heartbeat hiccup. Especially when that same forefinger ends up poised below her chin, his thumb distractedly caressing across her jaw.

The creature’s next sentence comes out low and almost vulnerable. “So it meant nothing, then? Are you sure? Because I don’t want to get in the way of your dating life if you—”

“It meant nothing.” Y/N confirms, bobbing her head once insistently. She cradles her cheek into his icy palm, keeping their eyes locked as she gives it a gentle kiss, her insides fluttering when Harry’s breathing hitches. “I’m not gonna be seeing him again anytime soon. Or ever, probably. And that’s why I didn’t mention it to you— because I knew it wouldn’t change anything between us. You’re the only person I’m interested in right now.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

The young man swallows thickly, leaning down to smudge his nose across the girl’s and the action erupts a certain flood of warmth so powerful, it could very well kickstart the dead organ below his ribs. His voice is tumbling down his numb tongue before he can think to stop it. “I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

Y/N’s fingers stretch upwards to wrap around his wrist securely, almost as if to tether him and eliminate the chance of his touch slipping away. Her whisper is trembly and raw. “You have?”

Harry knows he’s allowing this to wade into dangerously grey waters, but he can’t find it in himself to care, at the moment. “Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you felt last time.”

The mortal teeters onto the tips of her toes, flirting her mouth over her friend’s, a prickling sensation stemming from where their cupid’s bows brush. She glimpses at him amidst her lashes, glassy eyes reflecting his need right back at him. “Tell me more. Please?”

The breath of Harry’s words is hot against her mouth, his eyes lulling closed as he recalls all of the memories from the last few days. “I just couldn’t shake it. You were just so tight and warm and the way you were pushing back against my thrusts...the way you were shaking and whimpering...the way you flipped around and slammed your mouth to mine because you wanted me to moan onto your tongue….It was so fucking filthy, I just— I couldn’t—”

His control begins to shatter and the immortal can feel desperation leak through the cracks webbing across his composure. Y/N isn’t helping any, considering she’s started suckling lightly at his bottom lip, her free hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Keep going.”

Harry gulps heavily before continuing. “I touched myself while fantasying about you. Lost count of how many times, honestly. But I came so hard every single one. It was pretty easy to lose myself like that, just sitting there thinking about everything we do. Thinking about how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, taking it down your throat like such a good fucking girl. How nice your arse feels in my hands, especially when you ask me to spank it. How snug you are when you sink over me, stretching around it like it’s made just for you. How the little noises you make sound so fucking perfect— like a song, really. And...and how good you taste between your thighs. S’like honey. Just so fucking sweet.”

There’s a pause as Harry’s words sink into the air, his dirty confessions pulling passion taut into existence between the two lovers. They’re all over each other in less than a heartbeat.

Y/N begins to fumble with the small purse she has strung across her body, frantically fishing for her keys as Harry delights himself with sponging his lips across the slope of her jaw, grinning into her skin at the little curses escaping her throat. He absolutely adores how whipped she gets for him.

The human manages to retrieve her key, jamming it into the lock blindly as her eyes blur with tears of sheer need, stemming from the tiny shots of bliss Harry is instilling through the sloppy pecks he’s trailing down her jugular. She hastily turns the knob, bumping her full weight into the door and nearly fainting in relief when it swings open. She turns sharply to face him, roping her arms around his strong shoulders and pulling him into her, shuddering at how incredible it feels to have his strong torso flushed to hers so intimately. Harry allows himself to be yanked forward into her apartment, giggling softly when she crashes their mouths together messily, harshly tugging him past the threshold.

The vampire’s lean arms wrap around her waist as the young woman maneuvers their connected bodies into the narrow hallway of her flat, one of her hands waving around wildly until it succeeds in shoving the door shut. Y/N slams Harry up against the closest wall, feverishly fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt and nearly ripping them out of their designated holes. Her hands quiver as she races down the seams, her eyes tinging darker when Harry leans his head back against the panel and smirks down at her smugly.

He gnaws on his bottom lip, his half-lidded gaze mocking her hysteria as his voice comes out deep and melodic as always, slathered with self-assured arrogance. “You’re so cute when you’re this eager to fuck me.”

Y/N pants against his twitching lips, tearing his top down his broad figure and shamelessly groping at his swollen biceps. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Harry abides, lulling his tongue along her upper lip and thrumming deeply when her digits trickle down his abdomen. He coos into her mouth as she begins fiddling with his belt buckle. “What, no interior design emergency this time? You’re losing your touch, darling.”

The girl pulls the leather strap off his pants in a frenzy, scoffing at his stupid quip and breaking their kiss to speckle her mouth down his bare chest, feeling it stutter below her influence. “I got some new chairs for my dining table. Wanna take a look?”

The boy’s fingers card into her roots as she descends down his stomach with wet pecks, his eyes rolling closed with a strained grunt. She bites along his fern inkings and his hips buck forward in response, his grip on her hair tightening when she palms over the outline of his clothed cock. “You know I’m always a sucker for some good dining chairs.”

As it turns out, Y/N had actually gotten some new chairs, much to Harry’s surprise.

They’re nice, in his opinion. They seem sturdy enough, with metal backrests and legs that are covered in tarnished gold paint that gives a pleasing rustic look. But in the end, Harry doesn’t really much care for the details of the furniture. All he cares about is if they’ll manage to withstand Y/N’s weight as he shoves her onto her knees atop the chair and bends her over the back. Or if they’ll stay put as he pounds into her from behind with a fist in her hair and his letter rings marking across her backside. That’s all that truly matters.

Despite having done this countless of times before, this particular instance feels different. Both of them can tell, but Y/N feels it more prevalently. Specifically, in the bottom of her stomach and in the pain sweltering across her ass.

Harry’s just…rougher. He’s still himself, so he makes sure she’s okay with everything he does before doing it, but when he gets the green light, he doesn’t let it go to waste. His grip on her roots is harsh, with his nails digging into her scalp as he jerks her head back to bring her in for a kiss, her spine arching into a semi-circle. The position is difficult given the amount of flexibility required, but Y/N powers through. She quite likes it, actually— it gives him a deeper range of depth, somehow. She can feel him touching the trench of her tummy and she refuses to do anything that might make that stop.

The kiss is upside down, but the vampire doesn’t let that deter him. It’s still dirty and heedless, with lots of biting and overzealous tongues, broken whines and fractured pleas. Y/N freely moans into his mouth, gasping and mewling to his every thrust with a certain type of helplessness that flogs the flames blistering Harry’s dormant veins. He loves that he makes her feel helpless, especially because she makes him feel the exact same way.

His stride is fast and deep and unapologetic— vengeful, almost, and they both know why. Even though Y/N had told the creature that the date had been nothing but a selfless chore, he can’t seem to let it go as easily as she had. He finds himself wanting to prove to her that he’s better than that insipid stranger. That he can give her everything she wants without a single issue. That he can deliver everything she needs with expert skill and relentless force, just as she prefers. That he can make her entire body tremble in overstimulation and make every fiber of her being tingle with sheer pleasure, just by gifting her a few adamant snaps of his hips and by muttering a couple filthy promises onto her unfeeling tongue.

“Bet he wouldn’t be able to make you feel like this, huh, pet?” Harry growls against her swollen lips, plunging his thick length into her and nudging at that sweet spot that makes her toes curl. “Bet he wouldn’t know how to handle you— how to handle that tight cunt and that sharp tongue. Could never take care of you the way I do, isn’t that right, baby?”

Y/N rattles her head in her friend’s grasp, releasing fragmented noises of bliss as he hikes her dress further up her ass and gives it another brutal spank. She can feel his rings imprinting across her sweaty skin and she strives off it more than she should.

Her voice comes out garbled and weak. “N-No one can make me feel as good as you.”

“Damn straight.” Harry grits out, breaking their prolonged kiss to rest his chin against her damp forehead, looking down at her from over his sharp, tinted cheekbones. “Nobody can fuck you into a begging mess like I can. Whose pretty cunt is this, angel? Who’s the only one who gets to call you their little slut?”

The electricity crackling around his pupils is borderlining on unhinged, but she adores it. The fact that she can drive him to the brink like that feeds the affinity she has to win his praise. “It’s yours, Harry. Just yours— it’s always just you. You’re the only one. Nobody e-else— fuck, oh my God!”

“You got all dolled up for him, though. Why’s that’s, hm?” Harry’s hold releases from her hair and fumbles down to her throat, the pads of his fingers leaving bruises across her jugular as he grunts lowly with every hellbent ram. “If you didn’t care, why’d you get all pretty, then? Why’d you wear perfume? And why’d you wear that dress— my dress?”

Y/N’s lashes flutter as he refers to her outfit, which is the same one she’d had on the day they had officially established their loose arrangement. Hearing him call it his— hearing him claim it as his own with so much dominant confidence— makes the pit of her belly froth. It is his. Sure, she’d worn it for the sake of looking presentable, but it was only to satisfy the basic rules of what a date entails. In truth, under the excuse of inherent kindness, she’d worn it because she knew Harry would see it afterwards. Because she knew he liked it. Because she wanted to please him.

The girl communicates that to him now in the form of a feathery mumble, staring up at his angered eyes with a moony, innocent aura. “I wore it f-for you.”

The intense jealousy present in Harry’s clenched jaw and furrowed brows dissipates, replaced by soft awe at her wispy affirmation. He pants as he absorbs the real meaning behind her entire appearance, feeling sparks ignite in his heaving chest. “You...You did it for me?”

Y/N struggles to swallow in his rough grip, nodding a bit as her fingers tighten around the edge of the chair. “I know you like it and, well…I like making you happy.”

Harry’s lips part in astonished wonder, though he’s not so sure why her admission had caught him off guard. She’s told him plenty of times that she likes giving him what he wants, but this just feels slightly more personal than anything else she’s ever uttered during an orgasmic stupor. It’s tipping along one of the lines they had sworn not to cross.

The vampire hadn’t even realized his strokes had tapered to a halt, and apparently neither had she. They’re both too busy looking into each other’s eyes with expressions that neither can decipher. The tense pause only lasts maybe three seconds at most, but it feels like they manage to fit an eternity of uncertain silence within that short time frame.

Harry cuts through the moment by clearing his throat, intent on changing the subject into something much lighter that will allow them to return to their previous activity. However, the words that rasp out of his raw lips are ones he hadn’t consciously consented to. They come from a sincere nature he’d suppressed for so long, he didn’t think it was possible for it to ever resurface again. “I like making you happy, too.”

Y/N blinks up at him with her usual doe-like air, the corners of her lips twitching fondly at his requited compliment. “I guess we just like making each other happy, then, don’t we?”

The monster has never been more thankful for her witty personality. It gives him the opportunity to stuff his emotions back into the box they belong, allowing him to regain his typical composure and return her banter without a hitch. He bursts into a round of wheezy giggles, tapping at the hollow of her throat playfully. “I guess so. We’ll add that to the list of things we do to each other, right under ‘excite.’”

The rest of the session goes as usual, thankfully. Some more degrading names are exchanged, positions are switched, hickies are stained on fleshy thighs and damp shoulders, and Harry’s array of rings paint an art piece across Y/N’s backside that he thinks is worthy of the Louvre. His initials are signed on it and everything.

The pair end up splayed across her trusty old couch, catching their breaths from the heavy exertion they’d just put each other through. Y/N is still in her dress, though it’s rumpled, damp, and the thin straps are hanging off her shoulders limply. Harry is bare, as he always is after sex, per his raunchy preference. However, Y/N had made him cover himself with a blanket in order to keep at least a shred of decency between them. Plus, she’d said she didn’t want his “limp dick brushing against my dress while we cuddle.”

And that’s what they’re doing now— snuggling on her couch with the human pressed up against the vampire’s side, his arm slung around her shoulders casually as she doodles random shapes across the colored skin of his tummy. She has one leg hooked across his covered hips, which he’s more than happy to allow because he thoroughly enjoys rubbing his palm up and down the back of her thigh; it’s soothing and warm. Y/N entertains herself with nuzzling her head against the crook of his neck, sighing contentedly as he props his chin atop her temple and pets at her frizzy hair with gentle strokes. It’s a nice moment, full of slowly steadying breaths and the hum of the air vent at the other end of the room.

Harry is the first to break the tranquil atmosphere.

“I give the chairs a ten out of ten. IKEA really outsold.”

Y/N slaps her hand down against his naked chest, sputtering into a wave of loud laughter that is unbelievably contagious. “I’m happy you like them ‘cause, uh...they were on clearance. Can’t return them.”

“You lucked out then, didn’t you? Kudos to your ability to pick out decent furniture.” Harry twirls a strand of her tangled locks around his index finger, giving it a playful tug as a grin dimples his flushed cheeks. “Except for when it comes to wall decor.”

“It’s not my fault you're a stuck-up asshole.”

“And it’s not my fault you have a knack for cringey drapery depicting ClipArt images.”

“I’m going to strangle you with one of my tapestries, I really am.”

“Be my guest. At least I won’t have to look at them ever again.” The immortal squeezes her thigh jestingly, his smile widening when she squirms and giggles. “I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been fucking and I accidentally glanced at it and almost went soft.”

“But you didn’t.” She reasons, flicking at one of his nipples in revenge and feeling proud when he hisses softly.

“But I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have.” Harry insists stubbornly, reaching up to push a few wet curls out of his tired eyes. “Have you ever had someone go soft inside you? It’s pretty gross. Highly discourage it.”

“Just close your eyes, then.” Y/N states with finality, pinching at his belly button and cackling in satisfaction when he writhes. “You’re real shitty at solving problems, y’know that? You could never be Sherlock.”

Harry goes quiet for a second and his friend almost looks up to check if he’s alright; he’s too petty to ever back out of anything. But sure enough, his voice comes out a second later, flat and unyielding. “Take down the glorified curtains or I’m never eating you out again.”

“I’ll take down my glorified curtains the day you take down that Stevie Nicks poster on your wall.”

“I refuse to take down Stevie!”

“And I refuse to take down Amanda!”

“You named it?!”

The lovers chat and bicker childishly for a while longer, talking about anything and everything that will keep them entertained. Harry explains to Y/N how his friends had gone on a trip this week (though he makes sure to omit the fact that he had willingly bailed in order to spend time with her) and he’d been alone most of the time. She responds to his story with an incredulous yelp, telling him that he should’ve come over if he wanted some company. She says she would have been more than happy to hang out with him, but he knows she’d been so busy the entire week with work, she probably would have fallen asleep within ten minutes of him arriving. It’s the thought that counts, though, so he thanks her for the belated support, either way.

Y/N talks about a weird customer that had come in and ordered a sandwich with nothing but cucumbers and cheddar cheese on French bread, which she had later recreated to taste-test herself out of curiosity. She can confirm it was abhorrent and the way her nose crinkles with disgust makes Harry snort in endearment. She also tells him about how horribly the date with Jacob had gone, simply because she can tell he’s itching to ask. She recounts everything the young man boasted about, from the annoying college stories to his stupid opinion about clubs. She informs him that she’d never had a more terrible experience in her life and that she wishes she could get that hour of her life back.

Harry can’t help the way his face lights up at how utterly repulsed she sounds. He knew it. He fucking knew she would never insert herself into a romantic situation with such a comedic punchline of a human being. Hearing her confirm his suspicions is almost as pleasurable as what she can do with her mouth. Almost.

The vampire finds himself lost in his thoughts, thinking about how much better the whole event would have gone if it had been him instead. How he would have picked her up from her flat by actually getting out of the car and knocking on her door, rather than just sending her a text to come down. How he would have helped her into his car like a proper gentleman, and how he would’ve aided her back out when the time came. How he would enter the restaurant with his palm resting at the dip of her back, guiding the girl towards their seats and pulling out a chair for her. How they’d make conversation as easily as they always do, and how he’d have her laughing between mouthfuls of food, and how he’d expertly flirt her into a fidgety puddle. How he’d reach over the table to get a bit of sauce off the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin, and how she’d thank him with that shy smile he’d grown to admire. How he’d wave off her suggestion to split the bill, paying it all himself and smirking as she scolds him for it because she likes being hard-headed and independent. How much fun she would actually have, and how she would probably be willing to go out on a second date.

Harry’s comment topples out of his mouth before he can rethink it.

“I bet I could take you out on a better date.”

Y/N’s head snaps upwards to meet his gaze, eyebrows jumping in utter shock. She hadn’t been expecting that from him at all. Ever.

She talks between airy spurts of glee. “That was random.”

Harry doesn’t return the gesture. In fact, his lips don’t even jolt in the slightest. He simply just stares down at her with seriousness decorating his features, long lashes blinking blankly. He doesn’t know what overcame him to make such a bizarre, uncalled for claim, but he can’t take it back now. And he’s not so sure he wants to, honestly. He knows there’s truth to his belief— he could definitely do a better job of wooing her than that Jesse McCartney wannabe. It’s not like it’s hard.

Aside from that, seeing Y/N out with another man had reminded Harry that their little alliance isn’t anything solid— it’s not bulletproof, and he really shouldn’t be taking it for granted. He’d been so cocky and self-assured about himself and what he has to offer, he’d forgotten that there is always the possibility that Y/N might grow tired of him. It may be a microscopic possibility, but it exists, nonetheless. If he wants to keep her interested, he has to up his game a bit, or she might decide that he isn’t worth keeping around. If he wishes to maintain this favorable arrangement where he gets his intimate tendencies tailored and his supernatural necessities sufficed, he needs to give her a more fulfilling reason to stay.

Good sex is a very convincing factor, sure, but there might come a time in her life when she wants more than just a no-strings-attached affair. There may come a time when she’ll mature out of this stage and seek something sturdier and safe and anchored. There may come a time when she wants a real relationship, and if he doesn’t keep her occupied, that could be sooner rather than later. And it could be with someone else. He doesn’t want this convenience taken away from him— doesn’t want to lose the thing they have going, which keeps him out of annoying clubs, out of random people’s beds, and gives him the best blood he’s tasted in the last twenty decades. It’s too comfortable and satisfying to let go. He has to keep her hooked somehow, and if taking her on a date can assure that this flawless dream remains intact, then he’ll gladly do it.

Harry licks his lips slowly, measuring out his next words with immense precision. “I’m being serious. I can definitely do better.”

A million emotions funnel into Y/N’s eyes at once and he can only pick out a select few: confusion, astonishment, fear, denial, and slight unease. There is the chance that the monster may be interpreting all of the human’s feelings incorrectly because, truth be told, he isn’t the best at gauging or handling sentiments. However, there is one he knows he’s not misjudging— it’s the most evident one of all: Excitement.

“Think about it for a second, yeah?” Harry starts, shifting in his seat to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows decisively. “I’ve already gotten in your pants. That means I have no ulterior motive, right?”

Y/N’s own brows kink a smidge. “I...I guess.”

Her friend continues his speech. “Because of that, it means I won’t rush the date, I won’t expect anything from you, and we already get on pretty well, as it is. It’d be a proper good time— a genuine good time.”

The girl’s eyes flicker around different points of his face, trying to make sure he’s not pulling some type of cruel prank. Her tone comes out hesitant and slow. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

Harry squeezes the back of her thigh reassuringly. “It’s all in mathematics, love; everything adds up. It’s truly an ideal situation, if you ask me. Practically utopian.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, letting it out shakily. This is all so sudden and unexpected, she feels like Harry might burst into laughter any minute and reveal it’s all just a big joke. It’s just not them. It’s out of bound— it scribbles outside the box drawn around their whole dynamic. They were never meant to date, they were just meant to sleep together; they were meant to provide each other with the satisfaction that comes from a real relationship, without all the trials and tribulations. Harry asking her on a date blurs those sacred boundaries in a way she’s not sure she’s ready to face. It could mess everything up. It could not only ruin the fun little arrangement they have going, but it could potentially destroy their entire friendship. Harry is the only person she’s truly connected with since she moved to Los Angeles and risking that bond on an impulsive decision...That’s something she doesn’t think she can afford to do. She can’t survive her new life on her own. This is just too dangerous. Way too dangerous.

But then again...it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it before. She will admit, there have been instances where she’s pictured her and Harry becoming more than just warm bodies to each other. The two days she spent over at his house the weekend prior had solidified those fantasies and made them more frequent. They just click so well, she knows for a fact they’d make a great team. It’d be like dating a best friend, in a way. They fit one another in a manner she didn’t think was possible, and despite the fact they’ve only been acquainted for just over a month and a half, it feels like they’ve been friends for years. She feels like these types of connections are rare to create and she finds herself wishing it could develop into more.

But could it really be worth the potential grievance?

Y/N tunes back into reality, gazing up at Harry with reluctant eyes. She’s surprised to find his are full of confident clarity, as if he’s already sold on the idea and had begun planning their outing. He’s simply awaiting her response at this point, thumbing over her knee gently while tucking her hair behind her ear, lips poised into that lopsided simper that makes her heart skip and her nerves glitch. How could she possibly find it in herself to say no to him?

The mortal clears her throat lightly, gnawing into her cheek as she speaks her next words with airy humor. “So is that your official way of asking me out? ‘Cause if so, that’s not enough. You’re gonna have to do better, love.”

Harry hesitates for a split second, but it’s so fast, his friend doesn’t even take notice. He prays he doesn’t grow to regret this decision.

The boy nods, pursing his mouth into a small smile.

“I’m sorry, I don't think I heard you? Must be the AC.”

Harry rolls his eyes grandly at the stolen joke, which is identical to one he had made two weeks ago when he’d come over for their usual adult pastime and had brought a special toy in tow.

His mood comes out theatrical, accent heavily exaggerated. “Dear fair maiden, would you be so kind as to do me the impeccable honor of allowing me to bask in your presence by attending a luncheon with me, preferably sometime in the near future? Thank you so much for your consideration. Sincerely signed...” The creature takes a pause, proceeding to sing his next words to the tune of a song they are both familiar with, given their interest in the Hamilton play. “Your Obedient Servant, H dot Styles.”

Y/N explodes into a series of giggles, shaking her head as she reaches up to peck at his grinning lips.

“It would be my pleasure.”

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

Text

Finale - Rewrite - POYW - Harry Hook x reader - part 5 - the ember

Outfits;

C4+(y/n)

*Mals transformation (skull is the symbol on her back)

Hadie and Celia

Uma (for her first appearance, she's wearing her canon dress)

The vks finally arrived at the closest shore facing the isle, Mal taking a deep breath and lifting her goggles to look at Celia. They didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves on the isle so they would get off and on with the spell that Mal had used years back. “you remember what I said?” Mal asked Celia, Celia nodded, slightly unsure this would even work but Mal was sure Celia could use magic, and therefore cast the spell.

Celia took a deep breath and face the isle, picturing all five motor-bikes in her head as she spoke the incantation “Noble steeds/proud and fair, you shall take us/anywhere” the bikes all glowed a reddish-purple, matching Celia’s hair, and Mal nodded, knowing the spell had worked.

Mal put her goggles back down and revved the engine of her bike, leading the others onto the ocean. Hadie looked down at the water in awe as the bikes easily rode on the water as if it was solid ground, he whistled then looked back up to see the isle coming closer and closer. Celia laughed, feeling giddy as it sunk in, she used her magic, she had done it! She couldn’t wait to tell her dad!

After a few minutes the bikes passed through the barrier, both Hadie and Celia winced at the feeling of magical being forced back underneath their skin, and soon they rolled onto land, Mal taking a few turns towards Faciliers arcade that rested right next to curl up and dye. They passed through the wharf marketplace and through the alleyway where their old hideout was (which had been emptied and claimed by someone else)

Mal turned one last corner and parked her bike right in front of the place that used to be Hades Greek restaurant (he used to be there a lot, but at one point he stopped coming completely and left it in the hands of his hires and son, who ‘sold’ it and it was turned into a regular shop with furniture and decor)

The others parked next to Mal and turned off their bikes, taking off their helmets and leaving them on the seats as (y/n), Hadie, and Celia continued to carry theirs. Mal brought a lock of her hair in front of her and sighed, nope, still brown. She had a small hope that the barrier would reverse the spell that Audrey had cast but Mal supposed she was out of luck on that one. “Come on” Mal muttered, Celia leading the way to the arcade as the vks and (y/n) followed her to the arcade door.

Celia placed her helmet onto the fortune reading table for safekeeping (I mean, who would dare steal from the daughter of the shadow man?) (y/n) and Hadie doing the same, and walked up to a multicolored door with the words ‘Do Not Disturb’ in French painted on it.

Celia grinned at the vks and turned back to the door, excited to show off the arcade. She made a few quick beats with her fist, dancing as someone knocked back in a different beat. She did it once more and bounced in excitement as the door unlocked and slid open, the bouncer inside stepping aside as Celia gestured for everyone to follow her. (y/n), Mal, and Evie shared a proud grin and followed after her, Carlos and Jay looking around as they hadn’t been to the arcade in years, and the surrounding area had changed since the last time they were there.

Celia rushed through the entrance, gasping in delight as she saw the back of her father's head, she practically jumped down the steps and grinned widely as her father turned and smiled. “Hey!” he turned and threw his cane to one of his workers who caught it and turned back to a card reading table. Facilier turned back to his daughter and held his arms out “there she is!”

“Daddy~!!” Celia squealed as she ran towards him and slammed into his arms, laughing as he lifted her into the air and set her down on his other side. The two engaged in a little dance that had obviously been done time and time again, created years ago and they had decided to keep it up. Mal didn’t stop the smile from blooming on her face, while they were on a time crunch and the worlds impending doom was on its way, it warmed her heart to see good parents on the isle, it was rare to see one of the adults not seer at their kids, it was a wonder to see them be fully affectionate.

Plus Facilier had always been one of those adults the kids went to if they needed help, he was “nice” like that. Facilier tapped his cheek, expecting a kiss from Celia but the girl cheekily tapped his hat instead and started to run, squealing with laughter as he caught her and pulled her into his side. Mal and Evie grinned at each other, their delight at seeing the father-daughter relationship slightly dimmed by their lack of one.

The vks loosely followed the two Facilier’s as (y/n) explored the arcade, whistling a bit as she looked around at the extravagant displays and games surrounding her. She had heard Harry and Gil talk about this place before but she had never had the opportunity to visit it when it was active.

Celia grinned as her dad leaned down next to her ear “so what kinda hustle do you got goin’ on with them, shiny people?” Celia just grinned and pulled a small purple velvet drawstring bag out of her shoulder bag, plopping it in his hand and kipping over to the wall of signs next to her dad’s card reading table and grabbing the skull-shaped key then looping it around her neck.

Her father looked at her with pride as he held the piles of coins in his hands, all from the Auradon people she had read cards for in the last day. “Cher” her dad whispered, pride clear in his voice as he carefully poured the coins back into the pouch and tossed it back to his daughter “look at my little girl go, already conning half of Auradon~” Celia just grinned, perking up as Carlos called everyone over to a static tv that was connected to the Auradon network.

The reporter on screen stood at Auradon prep, next to the statue of Adam, as the camera followed him as he walked “Alerts of a sleeping spell keep coming in as it spreads across Auradon, sources say the daughter of Aurora, Audrey, is responsible for this spell; were trying to discover who is responsible for these vicious lies, and which villain has perpetrated this evil” the man stopped and held his finger up to his earpiece, his face paling in fear “it’s what? it's heading this way, cut it-cut it! we have to run!” the screen cut to static and the vks looked at each other in terror.

“We have to go get the ember” Mal rushed out, Hadie leading the way as you waited for Facilier to release his daughter's shoulder as he stared at the screen in fear for his daughter.

“I’ll protect her,” you said with a smile, holding out your hand to the girl as Facilier nodded and let Celia go.

“You better” he muttered, crossing his arms as you and Celia raced out after the others.

“Rookie mistake” Carlos grumbled as he spotted some of Umas crew members on top of their bikes as they rounded the corner of the alleyway. You sighed, looking over Jay’s shoulder to see Jonas on Jay’s bike, grinning wildly.

“Get off my bike!” Jay yelled out, leaping forward in an attempt to grab Jonas’ jacket as the pirate laughed. Jay just missed as Jonas and his four other pirate cohorts all raced off on your bikes, and you could recognize Bonnie on top of yours. “Over the roofs!” Jay yelled out, Evie and Carlos nodding and running off as Jay turned to you “cut them off” you looked back at Mal and nodded, climbing the buildings and running after the sound of the bike engines.

Celia went to follow but Hadie and Mal grabbed her arms, preventing her from joining the case “Hey, hey hey! They got this, we need to get the ember ASAP” Mal stated, nodding as Celia sighed in slight disappointment.

“Good timing too” Hadie muttered, checking his watch “right about his nap time” Mal raised her brow but followed her fellow vks as they quickly walked towards the other end of the isle where the mines were.

‘he takes naps?’ Mal thought, looking behind her and seeing you dropping down into an alleyway a few buildings away. She turned back to Hadie and Celia then quickly caught up to them as they had walked faster than she thought they would.

After a few minutes of (almost running) rushed walking, the three vks arrived at the mines, guarded by an intimidating metal gate with Hades symbol, made out of wooden planks and old tires, on the front, with multiple keep out and warning signs plastered around. “Hey” Mal interrupted Celia, who was unlocking the door. Hadie and Celia stopped to look at her confused, Hadie halfway wondering if she was backing out of the plan “how big is that dog?” Mal nodded that sign behind Celia and she turned, Celia sighed and shook her head as Hadie snorted at a joke that wasn’t there.

“You’ll see” Celia muttered as Hadie snorted again, pulling the gate open and leading the two girls inside. Celia gasped quietly and turned back on Mal, holding her finger up to her lips “Okay, you have to stay quiet it echoes like crazy in here” even as Celia whispered it reverberated against the old rocky walls of the isle mines. Mal nodded and glanced around at the multiple record speakers that hung off the walls, following Celia as Hadie stood by the railway that led towards his father's lair.

Mal jumped at the sudden sound of multiple dogs barking and grabbed onto Hadie, who laughed quietly and pointed at the speakers “not here” Hadie whispered, waving Celia off the bike turned-makeshift minecart hybrid “too loud, if we’re stealing the ember, we need to be quiet as possible, we walk. It’s not too far” Mal nodded and kept her grip on Hadie’s arm, tensing up each time the guardian of the underworld's barks echoed around her. Hadie glanced at her but said nothing, letting her use him as a crutch as the three vks walked down the dark and damp tunnels of the abandoned mineshafts.

Hadie took a few twists and turns, apparently a shortcut to his room (which was also a back way towards Hades main area of his lair), and soon the three stepped out into a pretty large room with a queen-sized bed with a dark grey and blue bedspread. Hadie grabbed a bass from his wall and carried it, nodding out towards the curtain door “an excuse, case he wakes up as we walk out” Hadie whispered, Celia went first as they stepped through the curtain.

Mal stopped as her eyes locked onto the back of the god of the underworld's head, his hair was a dim dark blue, the side effect of his hair unable to light ablaze. Mal sighed in relief as the god snored loudly…very loudly, it reminded Mal of when Ben’s dad had fallen asleep during a late-night hangout back when Mal was still in school at Auradon prep.

As the three crept closer, the sounds of dogs barking started to loop, and Mal looked around confused before Hadie pointed at an old record player, it had hit a scratch on the disc and was now looping on a singular bark. Mal breathed a quiet sigh of relief, that meant no dog to be fed to if Hades caught them.

Mal walked heel to toe as she snuck over to Hades, while Hadie and Celia slowly made their way around the other way. Just as Mal got close, Celia got fed up with the record and lifted the needle, sending a loud screeching noise through the cave. Mal and Hadie glared at Celia, as the rash decision had made Hades wake up. He lifted his head slightly and look directly at his son and Celia “What are you doing here?” he grumbled in a tired tone, yawning a bit as Hadie raised his bass in the air.

“Forgot my bass” Hadie simply said as Celia took out a can of corn and a packaged blue rock candy.

“I noticed, you were out, of canned corn” she tossed the candy and can to the god and he caught them with one hand. Mal by then had lifted the ember out of the dish it was sitting in and was bringing it to her chest, screaming lightly as Hades suddenly grabbed her hand, stopping her from crouching out of sight.

Hades turned to look at her, his yellow eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Mal harshly swallowed and released the ember as he took it from her, moving to rest his head on his arm. He and Mal stared at each other for a moment, Hadie and Celia standing awkwardly near the old wooden stairs that lead back up to the tunnels. “um-“ Mal started in a meek voice, watching his eyes as he looked at her newly brown hair and eyes “-can I have that?” her usual confidence was gone, she was powerless and in front of a god who could pick her up with one hand and chuck her across the room even without his powers.

Hades raised his brow and turned his head to look at the ember, which was black as coal, in his hand. Then he looked back at her. “And why should I give it to you?” Hades asked coolly, taking off his glasses and tossing them to the side, leaning back in his minecart turned chair, lofting his boots up next to Mal’s face. “uh-“ Mal clearly hadn't expected him to ask that, she had expected him to get angry and throw her out of his lair. Quick mal, come up with an excuse or something! “I need it?”…nice one Mal, top-notch, he’ll for sure give you the ember now.

Hades rolled his eyes and looked to Hadie, who just shrugged. “Auradon is in danger and we need the ember” Hadie answered dryly, watching Mal carefully as she stepped in front of Hades and held out her hand, his father's yellow eyes staring down at Mal carelessly.

“Please?” Mal asked in a much firmer tone, her eyes looking directly into Hades. Hades huffed and lifted up the ember, waving the black gem around a bit.

“You’re only half Hades, the ember won't do everything for you that it does for me” Mal clicked her jaw and gestured to Hadie, not really paying attention to what Hades had just said.

“Hadie’s gonna be the one to use it anyway, I just wanted-to…” Mal’s brain caught up to the words that had just come out of Hades mouth and she looked back up at him with wide eyes, Celia’s jaw had dropped as she realized what he had meant “IM HALF WHAT?!” now Hades looked confused, looking at Mal as if she was crazy.

“you-you didn’t know?” Hades has lost his confidence, his brow raising in confusion, then he looked to Hadie “she doesn’t know?”

Hadie just pinched his brow and sat down on the wooden steps, ignoring his father and (newly announced) half-sister as the Mal started to squabble about her mother and Hades. “fuckin-what?!” Mal screeched, running her hands through her hair and starting to pace around the lair, Celia looking concerned as Mal tugged at her brown locks “you?! My dad?! That’s-that’s not right?! My mom said he was human, a full-on human!? It can’t be you it-“ Mal started to hyperventilate and Hades took her hands, bringing her closer to him and looking into her eyes. “Kid, calm down, you’re having a panic attack, breathe with me, okay?” Mal knew she had to listen or she would pass out so she followed Hades lead. When she got control of her breath again, she pushed him away, wiping away the tears that had gathered in her eyes “she never told you?”

“I guess fucking not” Mal assumed he meant her mother never telling her about her true father “and-also HOW?!” Hades just gave her a knowing look “NOT LIKE THAT-“ Mal did NOT want to think about her mother and Hades doing the do “-I mean-how did” Mal gestured to herself then Hades “this! Happen?? I thought you were loyal to Persephone!?” “Mom knows about this by the way” Hadie interrupted, motioning between his father and sister “and she’s pissed the fuck off, so whenever you see her again dad, you have millennia of making up to do” Hades winced at the thought of his wife being very mad at him, but it wasn’t unwarranted, but he had another matter to attend to.

Hades sighed and turned back to Mal, rubbing his stubble “I got drunk, very drunk, I don’t remember much but I woke up next to your mother and eleven months later you were dropped off for me to babysit” Mal’s jaw dropped in shock and slight disgust “I didn’t know about you until you were already two months old, and then I took care of you for about three months before your mother took you back, something about an heir of darkness.” Hades waved off the notion of Maleficent abandoning Mal on his doorstep and continued on as Mal gawked at him. “and before you ask-I do know I am really your dad because your hair was blueish-purple when she dropped you off and it was almost completely blue when she took you away, I think your magic reacted to whomever you were around the most-“ Mal shook her head, she didn’t have time for this!

“Okay, whatever, I don’t care. I don’t have time for all this” Mal waved her hands around in frustration(noticeably in the same way Hades did but no one commented on it) and held out her hand again “but! If you wanna make up for being a lousy dad” Hades frowned at that “gimme the ember” he stared down at her for a moment before gently placing the ember into Mal's palm, Mal closing her hand around it and nodding “thank you, it’ll be returned after we save Auradon”

“It won’t work for you completely, you are still only half Hades” Hades warned as Mal pocketed the ember into her thigh bag, raising his brow as she glared up at him. “So what? I’m not the one using it, dad” Mal hissed the last word, as if it was poison in her mouth. She didn’t fully believe him, after all, if her mother had lied to her for years about her father, who's to say he wasn’t lying to her now?

Mal pushed past him and up the steps, Celia quickly following her as Hadie set down his bass and looked back at his dad.

“Did she really never tell her?” Hades asked quietly, looking up at the stairs after Mal, an upset look on his face. “all this time, almost 19 years of standing by, she didn’t even know?”

Hadie sighed and crossed his arms “You really think Maleficent would have told Mal about her true parentage? If Mal had known you were her dad, she would have never listened to Maleficent, she manipulated Mal…I have to go, kingdom to save n all” Hades nodded, watching his son walk out after his daughter and sighing. So much for respecting Mal’s wishes.

Celia looked up at Mal, pressing her lips together as the awkward silence pierced the air. “I guess that’s why he was always asking about you” Celia murmured, stopping in front of the front gate as Mal paused, looking directly at the ground.

Mal then shook her head, lifting it up to stare straight ahead “let's go, we’re wasting time” Mal continued forward towards the main area of the isle again, Hadie and Celia giving each other a look before following after her. Mal was right, there were more important things to get to than her parentage.

Ben was back at his desk, talking on his phone with one of the captains of the royal guard “No. no, I want the royal guard handing out gas masks!” Ben said in a stressed tone, tapping through his tablet as more reports of the sleeping spell came through. Ben growled a bit as the captain on the other side muttered something about the spell “Well not everyone's asleep!” Ben hung up and tossed his phone on his desk, looking up and pointing at the servant standing at his door “Find out if anyone has seen Audrey, and see if she has a list of demands!” the servant nodded and turned out the door.

Ben sighed and unzipped his jacket, flopping back on his chair and running his hand through his hair as he tried to calm down. Why had this happened? What had happened with Audrey that caused Maleficent to possess her?

Mal had texted him earlier that the spell used the victim's emotions against them, so whoever had taken the scepter was feeling very intense emotions, enough for her mother to feed on that. So what had Audrey been feeling when Maleficent took control?

Ben had a sinking feeling it had to do with one very bitter grandmother.

“just one~” Ben yelped and stood from his chair as he spun around, eyes widening as he locked into Audrey’s eyes, which were swimming with green. “I demand my life back”

Ben looked behind him at his door, mentally cursing as all his guards had left to go help the people. “I have a proposition for you~” he turned back to Audrey and watched as he pointed behind her towards the rest of the kingdom “I’ll wake everybody up right now, under one, itty bitty condition” she stepped closer to him, her eyes flashing green. “make me queen”

‘queen?’ Ben thought confused, why would Audrey want to be queen? Why would Maleficent want to be queen? Then Ben remembered when he overheard one of Leah’s bullshit rants about Audrey’s right to the crown. Audrey was just doing exactly what her grandmother wanted, just in a twisted way…that’s why Leah had been turned to stone that morning.

And Maleficent was just going along with Audrey’s ‘desires’ so she wouldn’t be detected by the young princess, she was waiting for the opportune moment to take over completely. “Audrey” Ben started softly, taking her hand and bringing it towards him. Audrey looked confused, her eyes flickering with magenta and green. “someone spelled you, you have to let me help you-“Audrey's eyes turned fully green and she ripped away from Ben, and Ben knew Maleficent was in control now.

“Pathetic” Audrey hissed in a cold tone, her face morphing into a sneer as the scepter glowed bright green in her hand “so kind, so trusting, you won't even strike your precious little friend down just when you had the chance” Ben glared at Maleficent, hand drawing behind him to the hidden dagger that (y/n) had stashed a couple of months ago. “just like your mother…” Audrey’s eyes turned bright green and then she grinned cruelly “but so afraid of being like your father~” Ben froze in fear, realizing what she was talking about. No, she wouldn’t “let's see how you like being a beast~” Ben raced forward in an attempt to snatch the scepter from Audrey but he was blown back as it flashed green and his body was overtaken in a green flash.

Ben screamed out in pain, but It only came out as a monstrous roar, his teeth becoming fangs as his nails pushed out and sharpened, fur erupting from his entire body and everything just became so loud.

He let out another painful roar, Audrey cackling in the background as the scepter flashed magenta and Ben swore he heard someone screaming then everything went silent.

Ben blacked out from the pain and when he woke up a few moments later, Audrey was gone, the only thing left was a few wisps of smoke. Ben crawled over to his balcony and looked down, a whimper slipping through his new snout as he saw many of the servants now turned to stone. Ben turned on his heels and ran through the castle, looking for anybody who could help him, his claws ripped and scratched at the walls as he raced through them, he ended up at the hall of armor and ripped open the doors, claws digging into the frame and Ben ended up with a large splinter in his palm.

He roared in pain again and ran out the other side of the hall, crashing through the doors and running into the forest, he couldn’t let anybody see him like this, he had to find a way to turn back into a human before he hurt someone.

Mal, Hadie, and Celia walked back into the arcade, Celia racing towards her dad as Mal walked over to her friends who were playing some odd combo of foosball and pool. “M!” Evie called, relieved her friend was okay as Mal trotted over to her and wrapped her arms around Evie’s arm. Evie grabbed Mal’s shoulder with her free hand and looked at her “do you have it?” Mal nodded and dug into her thigh bag, taking out the black as coal ember. “Good, let's get off this rock”

Mal nodded, turning to jay to ask him where the bikes were but he interrupted her “how’d you get it? I assume he either gave to Hadie or you snatched it?” Mal winced at the reminder of how she had gotten the ember.

Welp, no better time to tell them then now, eh? “uh, yeah about that” Mal muttered, looking down at the ember in her hand “uh, he just-gave it to me?” it sounded more like a question than anything else. Mal was unsure if Hades really was her dad, but she would spill details about the entire thing later, right now the short and sweet answer was best.

“He just” Carlos started, furrowing his brows in confusion and glancing to Hadie “gave it to you? And not Hadie?”

“Yeah well, there's a reason behind it which is-guess whomst the fuckiest my dad is?” Mal laughed, giving her friends a tilted smile as they looked at her strangely, why bring up her dad at a time like this?

“Oh no fucking way” it hit Carlos first, his eyes widening “no fucking way but you said-“ Mal laughed again, sounding strangled.

“I know! I know! I thought so too! But I guess it's just another thing my mother lied to me about” Jay looked a little miffed at not understanding what Carlos and Mal were talking about, Evie looking lost as well “Remember how I said my dad was human? For the last 19 fucking years?” Jay and Evie nodded, (y/n) cleaning up the table behind them before freezing as realization dawned on her.

“Oh, no fucking way” (y/n) groaned, looking to Mal with an exasperated look “your dad is-that means-what the actual fuck” Evie finally had enough and turned to Mal with her brow raised.

“Okay spill before I stab you”

“Apparently, my dad is fucking Hades” Mal hissed quietly, leaning closer to Jay and Evie as their eyes went wide in shock “Yep, my mother lied, again, about my dad. Told me he was human to keep me in check and shit.”

“I-“ Jay stuttered, unable to get anything out as his mouth opened and closed. “are you sure?” At this Mal shook her head, no she wasn’t sure, but this was helping them in their favor, Hades had given Mal the ember willingly under the pretense she was his kid.

“no im not, and I don’t want to know how or why, but we can do all this processing shit later when Auradon or Audrey aren’t in danger, let’s go. You got our bikes back, right?” Mal asked the boys, wincing as (y/n) glared darkly. She would take that as a no then.

“Nope, they got away” Carlos muttered, crossing his arms.

“The only way back to Auradon is the bridge” Mal sighed, smiling as Evie clicked her heels on the dusty arcade floor.

“Glad I wore my comfortable heels then” Jay grabbed Evie's arm before the two could leave.

“Yeah, we need the remote, and I left it at the house” Mal and Evie shared a horrified look, what were they going to do? Auradon was in danger and they were stuck on the isle with no way off.

“I lifted it off of you” the group turned to Celia, who was holding the golden remote to the barrier “I thought it would be useful and it is” Evie smiled, stepping towards Celia and leaning on a support beam.

“Good job” Celia smiled and Jay took the remote, pressing his lips together in an impressed smirk.

“Sweet” Celia turned to hug her father one last time as everyone grabbed their bags and started to make their way out of the arcade, she kissed him on the cheek and ran after (y/n), meeting (y/n)’s stride as she patted Celia’s back.

“Good job kid” Celia beamed again, happy her thieving skills were being appreciated. “also Mal!” Mal turned her head to show she was listening “After this shit is over, we're coming back here and getting those damn bikes back, that thing is too damn expensive to lose to a fucking isle goon” Mal snorted and nodded.

“Noted” honestly Mal wanted her bike back anyway, Carlos had spent several months making and modifying their bikes to fit them perfectly, she wasn’t about to let them be stripped.

The group of vks, and one dimension traveling girl, finally arrived at the bridge, Jay taking out the remote and pressing the bottom button opening the barrier. “Come on” Mal mumbled, nodding her head towards the opening. The others followed her lead and stepped over the barrier line.

Just as the ember crossed over the line, it ignited in a strong flash of light and heat, Mal felt fire shoot up her hand holding the ember and cover her entire body. Mal gasped in slight pain as the flash of energy flooded through her and filled her with a brand-new feeling of power and magic she had never felt before.

Mal let out the shuddering breath she had been holding and shook her head, the fire that had been drained by Audrey had been returned at full force…but it felt…different from her normal fire. Mal opened her eyes and looked down at her hands, gasping as she realized her entire outfit had changed. Gone were the purples and greens of her maleficent-themed outfit, replaced by the cool blues and dark greys of Hades, blue flames licking up her jacket-turned-vest and boots.

…guess Hades wasn’t lying then, Mal frowned, looking at herself a bit more as she realized she had transformed into ‘the daughter of Hades’. She had no other explanation for why the ember had done what it did otherwise.

“Holy shit” Carlos muttered, grabbing Mal's arm to stabilize her as she wobbled on her feet slightly “What happened?”

“I don’t know” Mal muttered slightly grumpy as she twisted the ember in her eyes, it had ignited in a strong blue “It might have to do something with the ‘Hades being my dad’ thing? Hadie?” Mal looked to Hadie, frowning as he looked just as confused as she felt. “shit, okay, um-ya know what? We’re gonna ignore this for now and figure out what the fuck happened when all this shit is over with okay? Okay.” Evie picked up a lock of Mal's hair, bringing it in front of Mal's face “Evie-my hairs blue….my hair is fucking blue it was brown two seconds ago and now it's blue”

“To be fair your hair was purple three hours ago, and it's also purple at the top.” Jay supplied, pulling back a bit as Mal whirled around to glare at him. “uh-yellow eyes too” Mal scrunched her nose at Jay and huffed.

“Not helping Jay” Mal hissed, she turned back towards Auradon and closed her eyes “Okay, we-let’s just go, we’re wasting-HEY!” just as Mal was handing the ember to Hadie, Evie lifted her arm to push a lock of hair behind her ear and bumped Mal's hand, sending the ember flying. “no!” Mal screamed in panic, running towards the edge and about to jump for the ember when a very familiar tentacle sprung from the eater and grabbed the ember “wha-“

Uma rose from the water, looking absolutely ethereal in her golden shell crown and teal dress, her turquoise locs pulled back halfway as the rest framed her shoulders. Uma grinned and raised her arms, the tentacle holding the ember following them “drop something~?”

“It can't get wet!” Mal yelled in a pleading tone, gesturing for Uma to get onto the bridge “give it back before it goes out!” Mal could see the ember sparking and flickering in Uma’s hold. Uma just laughed and her tentacle curled around the ember, sealing it airtight between two suckers. her eyes turned to you, who was grinning down at her from the bridge.

“Uma~!” you yelled in excitement, bouncing on your heels as she gave you a little wave.

“That’s my name~” she purred, giving one last smirk to Mal then she sunk into the water, the ember still tight in her grip.

“Wait!” Mal called desperately, she couldn’t lose the ember, it was their only hope! Mal took a step back in fear as from where Uma had sunk a large tunnel of water began to rise until it burst, soaking everyone but you.

“Ah!” Mal yelled, pausing as she noticed the water starting to evaporate almost immediately, off her body, especially her hair. “I wha-“ nope, nope nope nope, not important right now. She noticed the same was happening to Hadie, and the two were the first dry out of everyone else.

Mal looked back down at the water, searching for Uma “Behind you~” Mal gasped and spun around, seeing Uma in a dark teal button-up, dark blue leather pants, and brown boots, her golden shell necklace sitting proudly on her neck.

Before anyone else could say anything, Mal spoke up, lifting her arms into the air in exasperation “Where the hell have you been?!”

Uma looked genuinely surprised that those were the words that had come out of Mal’s mouth instead of just accusing her of villainy and trying to steal the ember back “We’ve been looking for you for three fucking years!! Do you know how much Harry and Gil bugged Ben and I because you wouldn’t show your damn face?!” Mal screeched, rubbing her face in exhaustion at the reminder of when Harry and Gil had straight up annoyed her and Ben back when the search for Uma was fresh. “Do you even know you were pardoned two years ago? You could've surfaced at any point and you would have been fine!!”

“That’s what I said to-….her” you covered your mouth as Mal slowly turned to look at you with wide eyes, Uma face palming as you winced “uh-“

“…(y/n) did you harbor a criminal?” Mal asked dryly, raising her brow as you shrugged.

“Technically no, I just, brought her food n all that…I honestly have no idea where she stayed, but we had a meeting place?” Mal sighed and shook her head, turning to look back at Uma who stiffened up in a defensive stance. “Also, Ex-criminal” you stated, shrugging as Mal just gave you an exasperated look “jus’ sayin”

“Whatever, Uma, I need that” Mal held her hand out towards Uma, looking at the ember in the sea-witches hand. “to break a spell”

“Cast by maleficent, proxied by Audrey, sleeping beauty’s daughter” Carlos explained, eyes locked onto the ember in Uma’s hand.

“So-the good guys the bad guy-“ Uma furrowed her brows as she tried to figure out how Maleficent cast the spell through Audrey. “well, I might not give it back, see what happens” your smile dropped and you stepped closer to Uma, taking her shoulder.

“Uma no, Harry and Gil are still in Auradon and we need the ember to save them if anything has happened to them, neither of them answered my calls and I don’t want to risk anything” Uma just pursed her lips, looking between you and the pleading Mal, who looked more worried as time went on.

“Guarantee me, that any single villain kid that wants to, can get off the isle” Mal pressed her lips together at Uma’s demand, wanting to agree but the deal she had made with Beast prodded the back of her mind.

“I-I can’t do that” Mal stuttered, clenching her hands by her sides, watching the ember carefully as Uma rolled her eyes and walked to the edge of the bridge. “Can't do that” Uma muttered, turning and holding the ember over the water “Well how bout now?!”

“Deal!” Mal screamed desperately, not bothering to hide the panic on her face as she held her hands out towards Uma “Deal, deal! I promise every kid will come off, but please!...Please.” Uma looked at Mal carefully, looking for any deception before she relented.

“Fine” Uma muttered, sliding the ember into her jacket “but I’m keeping it, because if you think I trust you to save Auradon on your own” she laughed a bit, giving Mal a once over “Think again” Mal closed her eyes and sighed, at least the ember would be on their side.

“Okay fine, this is fine, we need to go now though, Jay!” he nodded and pressed the bridge button, the magic extending from the broken bits they were standing on towards Auradon. “let’s go, we have no time to lose!” Mal jogged forward, Evie, Jay, Carlos, Celia, and Hadie following close behind, leaving you with Uma.

“When we find the boys, I’m blaming the entire ‘hiding you for 3 years and never telling them’ thing on you, since it was your idea and I would like to stay in Harry’s good graces” you joked, booping Uma’s nose and grabbing her hand to drag her along to follow the others down the bridge.

Uma rolled her eyes and hurried her pace, realizing that things were a lot more serious than she had thought, Mal hadn't even tried to start an argument, only focused on saving Auradon.

-end of p5-

part 5 yall!!!! the vks got the ember and mal discovered something new~!!! her dad! yeah in this Mal legit had no idea who her dad was, all she knew was that he was human and he was banished by her mother for his human weaknesses. so Mal thought her dad was a completely different person due to her mothers lies and just now found out it was a lie an all that. yeah bunch of shit XD so Ben is now a beast and Uma is here~!!!! hope yall enjoyed~!!

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rewrite taglist

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#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #part of your world #rewrite #d3 rewrite #finale #interlude #shuffle playlist

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wardenannie · 3 years

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heyy! saw you were taking prompts so i thought i'd send you onee.

could you write a spicy levihan oneshot based on levi and hanji reuniting after a long time being apart? it can be canonverse or a modern au, whatever youd'd like!

love love love your writinggg <333

Love this prompt. I'm writing this as a modern AU where Levi and Hange met in the military and fell in love. Later on Levi is injured and is honorably discharged but Hange remains active duty. 💚

Boomers having seggs under the cut ;)

Eight months. He hasn't seen his wife in eight, long months.

He drives to the airport in a car modified to accommodate his disability. His right leg has never worked the same since the bullet. He rolls through the terminal in his wheelchair. People look down on him, the little man in the little chair, but he doesn't care.

Levi is going to see Hange. His Hange. They fell in love on the field of war, and as far as he knows there is no stronger bond. He misses her touch, her kiss, the low ramble of her voice.

He misses his Hange.

The circumstances of her return are less than ideal. An IED has left her missing an eye and badly burned. They had to airlift her to Germany where she recovered without him. She hadn't wanted him there. Hadn't wanted him to see her so broken.

It still broke his heart.

Now he waits by the baggage claim, watching the arrivals. Frankfurt 8:20 am, on schedule.

Levi checks his watch; its 7. He has some time to kill. But all he can do is wait, staring at the arrivals. His good leg jiggles with anxiety. His good eye never wavers from that screen.

The hour passes like molasses, the final twenty minutes like cement, but finally a familiar head of russet hair rounds the corner. She's on crutches still, and she wears a patch over one eye. Most of her is covered by her military greens, but he can see the burn scars on her left hand and cheek.

She has never looked more beautiful to him.

He wheels over to her as fast as he can, breathless, grinning.

Hange meets him, leaning over to pull him into a tight hug. Her warmth is rejuvenating, he has not felt so whole in a long time.

The first thing she says to him, breathless in his ear, is a joke; "Between the two of us we've got one working set of eyes, smalls."

"I'll watch your left if you watch my right," Levi replies, then he pulls back from the hug to kiss her deeply, not caring who sees.

A few people, seeing Hange's uniform and Levi's chair, begin to clap for them.

Levi just wants them to shut the fuck up.

They make it back to their apartment in record time, both of them grinning like idiots as they pass over the threshold.

Hange drops her single duffel bag in the entry way and inhales deeply. Then she sighs, eyes becoming sad, "Assimilation back into civilian life is going to be hard, isn't it? Especially now that I look like the crypt keeper."

"I'll be here to help you," Levi stands up, folding his chair. He limps over to her, leans on her, kisses scarred jaw. "You're beautiful."

Hange shakes her head and helps him into the living room. They sit on the couch, hands clutching at one another, loath to lose such a precious thing as touch after so many months.

"You can't see the worst of it, it's under the uniform," she explains. "I honestly think it'll make you sick."

"Hange," Levi leans forward to kiss her, bit she avoided him.

"I lost my left nipple, you know? Burned clean off. My tits are lopsided now," she cups them, dropping his hand. He can't tell anything through the uniform. "God Levi I feel like such a monster."

"No," Levi snaps, drawing her into his arms. "I almost lost you, four-eyes. They told me you had a fifty-fifty shot. I thought I was going going lose you. Now that I finally have you back I won't listen to this shit. You're my wife. I love you so much it fucking hurts, burns or no."

Hange sniffs, peeking out between her fingers.

Levi leans forward to kiss her forhead, "I missed you so much. Everyday I wasn't with you killed me a little bit, Hange. Knowing I wasn't there to protect you."

Hange inclines her head to kiss his lips. Chastely at first, but Levi deepens it, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her closer to him by her waist.

His tongue traces along her lower lip and she grants him entrance. She tastes like the mints she always sucks on when she flies. Hange moans softly into his mouth, one hand cupping his scarred cheek.

They part by a few inches, and Levi asks softly, "Are you ready for sex? Does it still hurt?"

"Sometimes I can still feel the fire in my skin," Hange shivers, then she kisses his jaw. "I want you to take it away."

"Hange..."

She takes his hands. Both of them are shaking slightly, "Make love to me, Levi. I want to feel whole again."

In the past he would have lifted her and carried her to their bedroom. But now his leg will not allow for that, so he hoists her up with an arm around her waist, lips working at very neck and jaw as he guides her to their marriage bed.

It's the same as when she left. Black duvet, white sheets, all neatly laid out and folded by her husband.

He lays her down on the duvet and crawls over top of her, beginning to work at the buttons of her uniform. Her hands caress down his chest to the hem of his shirt, which she tugs at lightly.

Levi finishes the last button, then sits up to remove his crew neck before gently pushing Hange's top off of her shoulders.

"You've been staying in shape," she marvels softly, caressing her hands over the scarred marble of his skin.

He shrugs, eyeing her breast bindings hungrily, "Physical therapy got me on an exercise kick."

"I've gone a little soft," Hange sighs, "So many weeks in hospital, you know?"

Levi begins to undo her breast bindings, deft fingers pulling them away strip by strip. When she is bared to him he marvels at the mottled pattern of her skin; olive and red, silver and purple. Like she said, she is missing a nipple, but he hardly notices for the joy of being with his wife again.

"You're beautiful," he breaths softly, and he leans over to lavish her branded skin with sensual kisses.

Hange moans softly, fingers curling into his hair as his tongue traces along sensitive scar tissue.

"Levi," she moans. Eyes fluttering shut.

He begins to descend, following the line of scarring that divides her body in two. His tongue traces along her navel, and when he reaches her waistband, he looks up to her with hooded grey eyes, begging permission.

Biting her lip, Hange nods frantically, "I want your mouth on me, it's been so long."

Levi hums in agreement, peeling her trousers and simple cotton panties down her thighs in a single movement. It has been far too long.

Her cunt glistens wetly in the low light of the bedroom. Here she is the same, here the fire has not touched her, so when Levi lowers his tongue to lick a hot stripe up her folds, he knows just how to make her twitch.

His lips seal over her clit, feeling it harden and swell under his assault. His fingers find her entrance and press inside, curling backwards in a familiar pattern, pads brushing up against her g-spot.

"Oh shit, Levi," she throws a burned arm over her eyes, cunt already beginning to twitch and tighten around his fingers.

"Come," he commands softly, low voice vibrating against her clit. "Come for me, Hange."

She does, thighs shivering as she falls apart on his fingers. She makes a high, keening sound that makes Levi smile as he pulls his wet mouth away from her pussy. He presses a kiss over her mound then stands, undoing his belt and shucking his pants.

His cock bounces free, heavy, swollen and beaded with precum at the tip. Now they are both naked save for the wedding bands they wear on chains around their necks.

Hange smiles at him, scooting up the bed and beckoning with a pink, scarred finger. All of her bashfulness over her wounds has melted away, "It's been awhile, Captain. I needed the warm up."

He crawls over top over her, kissing her breasts before kissing her lips tenderly. Missionary is his favorite position, so he can look into her eyes while they make love.

He reaches between their bodies, lining up the head of his cock with her entrance.

"Ready?" He whispers against her parted lips, holding her stare. Their is fire in both of their eyes, a love like none other. Slate holds to wine as she nods and he slides into her, smooth and easy.

Entering Hange is like coming home. Levi shuts his eyes and let's the sensation surround him, swallowing him up. He tucks his face into the crook of her shoulder, moaning softly as he begins to thrust, slow and steady.

"Levi," she whispers his name. "Levi, Levi, Levi."

Her fingers caress down the switching muscles of his sides and she clutches at the globes of his ass, urging him to go harder, faster.

The feel of her cunt is sublime, tight and wet and hot around his dick. She kisses his temple as he makes love to her, then her hands rake up from his ass to cup the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss.

Levi snaps his hips as hers roll to meet his. His fingers trace delicately over her scars as his tongue curves along the back of her teeth.

When they part, panting and flushed, he exhales against her lips, "I missed you so much."

Hange nods, fingers curling into her shoulders as her cunt begins to tighten around him. There are tears in her eyes, tears of deep seated emotion still unspoken. Tears of a wounded soldier. Tears of lovers reunited at last.

Levi's hips begin to stutter, cock swelling, balls tightening to his body.

"Come in me," Hange implores, holding his gaze. Her eyes plead, "inside, please."

Then her body goes tense under him, and she makes soft panting sounds as her orgasm takes her in waves.

Levi's lips part, eyes hooding as his thighs and groin go alight and he finishes inside of his lover.

He gives a few, final thrusts, working himself deep before he collapses on top of her. They both pant, sharing gentle kisses in the sweetness of the afterglow.

Levi holds Hange to his chest, fingers tracing along her scars.

"You're so beautiful, Hange," he breaths, emotions rising in his chest. "You have no idea."

Hange kisses the corner of his mouth, eyes hooded and lazy. Mixed fluids drip between her thighs, "So are you, Levi."

Her fingers catch on his chain, following it down to his ring. It mirrors her own, a simple golden band.

"I love you," she says. "And I'm never leaving you like that ever again."

Levi nods, "Likewise, and I love you, too."

Reunited at last, they sleep.

#levihan #my writing

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dinthehottotty · 3 years

Text

Cultural Differences - Part 1 - Din Djarin

Summary: Din proposes and you have no idea that you said yes. Not that you'd say no but you don't have the heart to tell him when you realize.

A/N: Before ya ask, yes, I do play assassin’s creed. I’m shamless, I don’t care.

Warnings: Fluff, maybe a sprinkling of angst, part two will have all the smut for @buttercup--bee.

When you'd met Mando, you thought the same thing as everyone else from a glance. You believed him to be cold and dangerous. Very quickly did that entire idea go up in big, black smoke. It didn’t take long to watch this man ask for compliance rather than immediately demand it. He always did please and thank you’s when necessary and it was a surprise when that only got you hot and bothered.

Love was not on your radar when you joined his crew. Even now, months after you'd been working with him, you felt like you were pining for the man. That would imply that the awkward Mandalorian would ever foster the idea of a relationship with you. So instead you'd happily day dream your way through the days.

It was easy to do. There was no resentment at unspoken affection. You just loved both Mando and that little green bundle of wrinkles with everything in you. It always made you smile at how much he was an overprotective dad with his 50 year old baby. Even if he tried to deny that he was a dad now.

You found it too easy to tease him about it and your cute aggression reared it's ugly head. You were a person who's love language was physical touch. Constantly touching the bounty hunter surprised him in the beginning. But now it had no effect on him. You probably should have asked him more about Mandalorian culture because that would be your down fall with him.

It was a joke the first time you'd kissed his helmet. Planting a big, obnoxious kiss right on the top of his helmet when he was in the pilot seat and had maneuvered the razor crest out of quite the spot without killing you both. Now it was second nature to peck his helmet's cheek. A warm, friendly greeting when he'd returned from a hunt and when he departs for supplies. A quick smooch to his forehead and a pat to a pauldron as a thank you. Nudging his knee under the table at cantinas to tell him to calm down. A reassuring rub to his strong arms when Peli stresses him out too much. He even let you grasp his arm or thigh when you get excited about something. You were physically affectionate, you didn't think twice about gently bumping your forehead to his helmet when you were purposefully being annoying.

The last thing on your mind when doing this was actually whether or not Mando even thought much of it. He didn't tell you to stop, he never spoke about it, how were you to know.

One day, while Mando was on the floor trying to wear the kid out to go to sleep, you found teasing him all you could do. A light laugh bubbled up from you as his attempts failed repeatedly.

"Hand him over, Daddy." Squating down next to him. He turns his helmet towards you.

"I can handle it. Just go to bed," he orders, with no bark in his voice.

"Not a chance. Give 'im here." He heaves one of his heavy sighs before allowing you to scoop him up and into you. It was routine that you took the kid to bed most nights, Mando was okay with it, but he gives a frustrated sigh when the kid looks quickly like he's getting sleepy.

"Why is that so easy for you?"

"He's just used to me putting him to bed, Mando." You throw him a wink and bounce hip to hip as the kid jabbers sleepily.

There's a silence that feels a little heavy and the Mandalorian shuffles awkwardly. "I... I kind of wanted... nevermind," he cuts himself off, turning away.

That catches your attention very quickly. "No, no! Tell me, it's okay." Your hand darts out as he turns to leave and you catch his arm. He pauses even though he can easily push through it.

"I mean... you're like his mom. Kids like their mothers more. They sooth their children better and women are instinctivly better with kids." That startles you. Mando had never once referred to you as anymore than the kids nanny at any point. You weren't even originally hired to watch the kid.

You're cheeks flair up at that, burning uncomfortably and you feel... giddy perhaps? Did he think of you as a mom to his son? It catches you off guard.

"He definitely doesn't like me better," you reply softly and move closer. "I just put him to bed more often and it's close to bed time, that's all. Come here," you coax, your voice lowering to a warm tone. The bounty hunter twists reluctantly back towards you with slumped shoulders. The kid, who's half dozed in your arms, blinks up at him.

"He adores you, Mando, just take him."

"You don't have to-... its not a big deal."

"Take him," you insist. Finally he lifts the kid into his arms which makes the kid blink up with bigger eyes, a confused coo rising from him.

"Hes waking back up-"

"Shhh." You press forward, against Mando's arms as you run the pad of your thumb along the big ears. Softly you hum, no song in particular, and prompt the Mandalorian to sway with you both. It's a soft, intimate moment, that you never want to end.

It takes a few moments for the kid to settle back down and you hope it doesn't take to long but part of you longs for it not to end. The man-droid calling you his sons mother, or comparing you to one at the very least, is enough to fuel your longing for you employer with out a name for months.

At some point you glance up, expecting him to be watching his son. It paralyzes you when you find his visor trained on you. Gently you clear your throat, blush raising more on your cheeks.

"I didn't mean to overstep. I-"

Thunk.

The Mandalorian tilts his helmet forward and it knocks against your forehead suddenly. If you're honest, it actually hurts a bit with how hard he crashes his head into yours but suddenly the bunk feels so much smaller with him blocking the doorway. "You didn't." Is all he says, in his softest voice.

This was purposeful. He wanted to lean his head to yours. Not to be annoying. There was nothing practical about it, but he was doing it on purpose. Maybe he was feeling playful, you think.

The both of you stay like that for a while, as you allow your eyes to close. It could have been seconds or hours but finally he shifts away to gently put the kid in his hammock.

"I have something for you." He admits.

"For me?" You repeat, a little dazed. He nods.

"You don't have to accept." You arch your eyebrow as you both exit the room and you watch him mosey over to his weapons vault. Your curious as you attempt to guess what it is mentally. You didn't need anything.

But then he drew out a bundle of fabric and brought it over with both hands. He doesn't say anything, instead he just holds the bundle. You pause, hesitantly taking it. It was heavy and solid with plenty of ridges. When you peel the fabric back, the beskar gleams and a surge of emotion rushes forward as you twist the gauntlet. As you look to the inside you see it, the hidden blade attached to the bottom, something you explained to him before.

A rite of passage from your assassin training on your home planet. Yours had long since broken and you couldn't wear it anymore and it had been two years. You’d only really brought it up to him once, cursing that you would of had the bounty he’d only had the chance to capture after he slipped from your grasp. Mando had given you a short, “I still got him,” and carried on until you were both in the safety of hyperspace. The bounty had been sealed away and you couldn’t even remember who it had been.

“Like a knife?” He prompts in a way that made you both confused and suspicious.

“Knife? What knife?” you asked.

“You could have won the bounty if you had your blade?” he responded, he partially tipped your way. It was a bit odd of him to focus on that, a little out of character. You brushed it off, especially because he had previously explained that Mandalorians were religious about weapons.

You hadn’t known much about them (really anything) before him. You just pegged him as having an unhealthy fixation about any type of new weapon.

“Oh, my hidden blade,” you hummed and leaned back, making a face. “It broke a while back. I was apart of an assassin’s group on my home world, they had a few initiation practices. The important one was when you get your hidden blade. It’s like a gauntlet without the hand and the blade sits on the inside of the wrist. When you flex your wrist, the blade extends. My safety broke on it, nearly lost my ring finger.” You’d wiggled your finger that had a deep scar on the inside of it. “Then the blade snapped clean in two and I haven’t found anyone to fix it. I have to go home, since the mechanisms are broken. There are so few of my people left, however, that I’ve just put it off.” Was your response.

After that he’d never brought it up again.

"Mando," your voice cracks as you glide your fingers across it. "Mando, it's beautiful." You slide it on. It's heavier than your used to, but it fits like a glove. A quick click and the blade shoots out with a flex of your wrist. "Thank you," you murmur before sinking the blade away and launching into a hug with him.

"Din." He says, making you peer up. "Din Djarin is my name." Your heart skips a beat against his chest. You gaze up at him for a moment, before smiling back down at it. You turn, switching the safety off, before twitching your wrist. The mechanism was backwards from what you were used to, but the shiny blade jutted out as fast as your original had. It’d take a while for you to adjust to the weight of it, but it’s like having a working prosthetic after missing a limb for years.

“Din,” you test, “how did you get it to fit so well, my old one had straps I could adjust,” you ask. Drawing you eyes back up to the helmet, you let the big smile grow on your face.

He clears his throat a bit and twists to look at the blade that slinked away almost soundlessly. “I... I would measure your wrist when I grabbed your arm. To move you or stop you while we were out.” You grin at him, switching the safety on so that you didn’t accidently stab him.

“I didn’t even notice!” You quickly, jerk forward and hug him. He squeezes you back eagerly but a thought occurs. “Wait,” you draw back to look at him. “This beskar, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not Mandalorian, though. Won’t I get in trouble?”

“No, it’s given by a Mandalorian. There is no issue.” He promises and that’s the end of it because he thunks his helmet a little too hard against you again.

...

It goes on for months. Din suddenly being more physically affectionate with you. It makes you feel like you can have the softness that comes from a domestic relationship, the kind you never thought you could have. He called you something in Mando’a which seemed to change all the time. It was always at times you weren’t focused on what he was saying so you could never listen and try to look it up later.

You had found a short list of terms people had translated from the lost and secretive language. Most were mean ones, and you’d only heard him use a couple of those, but never toward you... well... maybe one. But that’s not the point! You were so lost with him.

It wasn’t until after nearly dying on Hoth, and then again on whatever water disaster of a planet this was. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And when Din dove in after those fisherman launched the kid in to be fed, you ripped those black market trades apart in sheer rage. Fortunately, or un fortunately, Mandalorians arrived and slaughtered more. You were happy to not have Din or the kid drown, but your want of revenge was exponential.

In short, it was a really rough week. One of the worst since the kid had arrived. He wouldn’t stop eating the frog lady’s kids that you were transporting. Not that your really surprised, but you were at the end of your rope.

Sitting in a warm little bar was nice. Between the kid warming himself in your arms and Din’s casual hand on your knee, you were simmering down. You were pressing yourself into din’s side, hoping to leach some of your warmth between his armor. He wasn’t even shivering anymore.

After quite the shock for the both of you when the other three took their helmets off, you had now been stunned into an exhausted mode. Anger had disappeared and replaced it’s self with the same distrust you felt radiating off Din. Shock seems to be the trend on this planet because one moment you’re ready to hear about the fall of Mandalore and the next Bo Katan is twisting to look directly at you.

“I find it strange that you’re wearing beskar at a black market beskar port.” She throws at you. Everyone glances at your wrist.

“It’s a gift.” Your rumbling response is the first words you’ve spoken to her from your sour mood. She lifts a condescending eyebrow at you.

“From you I assume?” She asks Din.

“Yes.” Is his response.

“Why a gauntlet?” Bo Katan makes a face. A flick of the wrist and the blade makes and appearance. Eyes widen. “Ah. An engagement gift.” Your brain stuttered in your head.

“How romantic,” her sidekick, Koska chirps. You were waiting for Din to deny it, all the while rushing through the encounter of when he gave it to you. Had Din proposed? Were you engaged to him this whole time? You weren’t even sure if he saw you in a romantic light, nevermind him actually wanting to marry you.

“I’m surprised you accepted a proposal from a watcher. Can’t be easy to love someone if you can’t see their face.” Bo Katan remarks. Din’s head turns a little towards you, he’s trying to read you right now. He’s waiting for your response. Had he done this on purpose? He wouldn’t do it out of malace, that you’re certain on. You wouldn’t put it past him to go this long into a relationship and not talk about his feelings.

“Hardly.” Koska smirks towards Bo Katan and you feel Din slowly let out a breath from beside you. You gently nudge his side.

“But to never kiss, to never see his face, might be harder than you think.”

“She can see me once were married.” Those words shock you more than the actual announcement that you were engaged. It sealed it for you as well. This surprises those sitting across from you. The ring leader grins suddenly.

“You really should communicate better with your partner. I don’t think she realized that you were even engaged to begin with.” Din swivels his head and you bite your lip as you’ve been caught red handed.

“You didn’t?” He asks, more of a demand. You wince.

“No, but even if I did know, I still would have accepted.” Din sighs, next to you, clearly frustrated. “In my defense, the only thing you asked me was, ‘Do you accept,’ which granted is a little cryptic, if I’m being honest.” Din takes a deep breath, shaking his head at you.

“What normally takes place on your world? A gift, correct?”

“Yeah, a ring! Not a hidden blade, you dork. I will say, I prefer this, it’s much more practical.”

“You don’t know anything about Mandalorians, do you?” Bo Katan prompts.

You pass her a look. “I’d never even heard of a Mandalorian before I met him.” All three of them have amused reactions and Din just sinks more into your side. You drop your hand down to his knee.

The conversation takes a new direction after that and your thankful to not have the attention on you anymore.

It’s not until you have agreed to help the three of them that the both of you decide to take the oldest (and smallest) clan member to the frog lady’s house.

“If you don’t behave,” you murmur, bristling in the cold ocean breeze rolling through the streets, “I will allow the frog lady to eat you, okay?” you promise the kid. Din pulls you to a stop and the kid perks his tucked ears up, prepared for your betrothed to deny that promise.

“Were you pulling their leg in there? Did you really not know we were engaged?”

“I mean, I suppose you were pretty forward with me, but I had no clue.”

“You think I was forward?” he demands. Uh oh. You were not expecting that response.

“What... what did I do that was forward?” You hear yourself ask when your not sure you want the answer. Din shakes his head at you.

“The keldabe kisses?”

“The what kisses? You mean me kissing your helmet?”

“That too. Obviously, I’m not able to kiss you the way you’re used to. I won’t be able to until were married, so what Mandalorians do instead is the keldabe kiss.” His hands are placed on your shoulders to hold you in place and he leans down, thunking his helmet against your forehead. “This.”

You’re eyes go wide as you think about the many times that you basically laid a big one on Din. “Did... did you consider us being in a... romantic relationship before you proposed?”

“I believed we were, you didn’t?” What a question. Mortification filled you and you could feel your cheeks burning despite the brisk wind. “Do... do you love me?” Your chest aches deeply at the insecurity in Din’s voice. The sound that rumbles isn’t like his warm and gentle tone he usually has. It’s brittle and frail.

“Of course I do! I just... I thought we were just really close friends, that you didn’t see me in that way so I bottled it up and hid it away. I mean... I wanted to mean more to you, but I just... maker, I feel so stupid.” The kid coos with confusion in your arms as you pull away. “Din, I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to marry me?” He asks so softly it’s almost taken by the wind. You find yourself immediately folding into his arms.

“Yes, Din, yes, I want to marry you. I love you.” You murmur the last part against his cape, feeling to shy to look at him when you say it. His rigid body soften around you and suddenly you’re clutched tightly to his chest. Tighter than he’s ever held you. Ironically, for the first time all day it feels like you can actually breathe.

“Good... good.” He breathes near you.

“Can we get out of the wind for a bit?” you prompt.

“Yes, let’s go.” Not how you were expecting your day to start... or end. But there are worse endings to bad days.

Tagging:

@lxdyred, @boliv-jenta, @amidjarin, @buttercup--bee

#din djarin #din x reader #din dijarin fanfiction #star wars #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando and grogu #mando #not yet smut

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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6: Where No Mando Has Gone Before

Link to Chpt. 5 -- For other chapters please visit my Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, Flirty!Din, Jealous!Reader, swearing, kissing, use of blindfold, groping (in public), oral sex (female receiving), explicit description of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world please), still pretty fluffy though

Word count: ~12.5K (I know, but it’s worth it I promise)

Author’s Note: This takes place on Angel One a matriarchal planet from Star Trek, the Next Generation. While that episode of TNG is honestly not good, I have been intrigued by the idea of that planet and always thought they could have done so much more with it. (Btw, I do suggest you look at the costumes from that episode because they are hilarious.) So anyway, I’m pretending that Angel One is in the Star Wars galaxy. Also, in this I describe the women of this planet as being taller, broader, and generally much larger than the reader. I always try to keep the reader as physically non-descript as possible, so just know that no matter how tall and broad you yourself may be, to these women, you are petite. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

For the third morning in a row, you awake to strong arms wrapped around you and the solid, warm body of Mando, or rather, Din, by your side. You’ve fully recovered from being shot, but Din has still been on high alert for any pain or discomfort that you could be feeling. He pretends to protest each evening that he should let you rest, before you easily convince him to climb into bed with you and cuddle all night long. Honestly, at first you thought he was just putting up with the cuddling to make you happy, but turns out, he seems to truly love it, as he is the one who continues to pull you closer any time you roll away in your sleep.

You’re lazily tracing circles with your fingers over his chest now as you think about him. He’s sleeping in a shirt and boxers, and even though you can’t touch the skin of his chest directly, you can feel his warmth easily through the thin fabric. He’s been so incredibly caring these past few days and he’s hardly let you lift a finger. Even when you’ve worried about him sleeping in his helmet and offered to sleep blindfolded so he could take it off, he’s dismissed the idea in favor of your comfort. Although part of you wonders if he’s still too nervous to consider taking off the helmet in front of you despite the presence of a blindfold or darkness.

You really are feeling so much better this morning, and you figure you’ll take over breakfast today. It would be nice to start getting back to your normal routine. You move to loosen yourself from Din’s hold and slide out of the bed, when you feel him stir and yank you back to his side.

“Where’re you goin’?” he asks you sleepily.

“I was going to make breakfast, and let you sleep a bit more,” you reply softly.

“Mmm, no, stay with me,” he says.

You shift a little so you can look at him more directly and tell him, “I’m so tempted, really, but you know someone else will be awake and hungry very soon.”

“Stay,” he repeats, “Wanna cuddle more.” You give in to him, and snuggle closer; it’s too hard when he’s insistent.

Din’s hands are starting to wander now, slipping just under the hem of your pajama top to caress your lower back. You let out a contented sigh at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“You must be feeling much better, if you want to make breakfast,” he says, sounding more awake, as he continues to trail his hands up your back under your top.

“I am, I feel completely better,” you reply confidently.

“Better enough to do other things?” Din asks with a husky tone to his voice as he brings one of his hands around to caress the upper part of your stomach, just below your breasts.

“I could do other things,” you say in a breathy voice; breakfast is now the last thing on your mind.

Din lets the hand on your stomach explore upward and over your breast, lightly palming you and teasing the sensitive tip. It’s been so long since a man touched you like this that it’s enough to make you moan softly. Din lets out a low rumbly sound in his chest and his hand becomes bolder, kneading you and rolling your hardening nipple between his fingertips. With his other hand, he pulls you in closer to him so that your hips brush up against his, letting you feel his arousal. Experimentally, you rock your hips against his, slightly grinding against him, drawing out another deep growling sound from Din’s throat.

“Been wanting to touch you like this ever since I got in bed with you,” he says.

“Me too,” you tell him as you let your own hands finally run up underneath his shirt and over the hard planes of his stomach and chest.

“You’re so soft- oof!” Din’s compliment is cut off by a sound of surprise and you realize why as soon as you see a little green head pop up over his shoulder. The sneaky kiddo has managed to climb up on the bed and his little claws must have grabbed Din’s arm to hoist himself up. Din immediately yanks his hand out of your top as the child meanwhile is crawling over Din’s chest to get to you. You scooch away from Din to make room for the little guy and also to discreetly put some distance between you two so that you can both calm down.

“Good morning, buddy!” You say a little overly cheerful, trying to come back to your senses. You look up at Din and mouth ‘sorry’. He just shakes his head lightly as he pats the child on the back.

“I think someone is a little jealous that I keep taking all the cuddles,” Din says with a chuckle, “Tell you what, I’ll make breakfast and you two have some snuggle time.”

“Aww, come here, buddy, and give me a hug,” you pull the child into your chest and kiss his wrinkled little brow. He lets out a series of happy coos making you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After breakfast, you get dressed and join Din in the cockpit where he’s putting in coordinates to a new destination. The child is sitting in one of the passenger seats playing with his silver ball. You come over to stand next to Din and look at the star chart he’s using.

“I’ve got an idea for our next move,” Din tells you, “But it will require us to carry out some deception for it to work.”

“Deception, huh? Well, I’m intrigued already,” you reply with a smile.

“I’ve heard from several of my guild contacts that the bounty on the child has increased,” he says concerned, “There’s also a bounty out on me too.”

“Oh, that explains the hunters.” Your voice is more serious now.

“It’s fortunate that no one in the guild will support the job, but although it’s an off-the-books bounty, the price is high enough that there’ll still be hunters after us.” Din explains.

“So what’s your plan and how can I help?” you ask.

“You’re an integral part of it, particularly since no one knows you’re with me,” he tells you, “Have you ever heard of a planet called Angel One?”

“No, never.”

“It’s a place that few people have visited,” he explains, “They have a matriarchal society and you’re only allowed to visit the planet if you’re accompanied by a woman.”

“Ah, I see, so no one will expect you to be there.” It’s a good idea.

“Yes, but there’s more,” Din says, “They’re very particular about whom they let stay on the planet for a visit, and from what I’ve heard they usually only let powerful or influential women visit for more than a day. Any potential visitors need to be fully vetted by one of their Mistresses to be allowed to stay.”

“Hence the deception; I need to pretend to be someone powerful or influential,” you respond.

“Yes, I thought you could pretend to be a princess and I’ll be your bodyguard,” Din proposes.

“A princess?” You reply, a touch startled by the idea.

“You’re as beautiful as a princess,” Din says, his voice flirtatious, “I’d definitely believe it.”

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes a little at him, “But, seriously, do you think I can pull that off?”

“Why not? You’re intelligent, well educated, and you seem to have a knack for socializing with people, you put them at ease and get them to trust you right away, I’ve seen you do it a lot.” Din compliments you in such a matter-of-fact voice that you find yourself thinking that just maybe you could do it.

“Well, and in your beskar you definitely look like a royal bodyguard,” you say thoughtfully, and then flirt back with him, “My knight in shining armor.”

He chuckles at that, “See, you’re already in character.”

“What if they notice that we’re…” you trail off and just gesture between you two with your hands. You’re uncertain how to define what you are, together? involved? You haven’t really discussed it.

“A couple?” he asks. Ok, so he’s defined it.

“Yes.”

Din thinks for a moment and then chuckles again deeply, “You’ll say I’m your consort.”

“My consort?” You snicker at his choice of words.

“Yeah, your consort,” he repeats, and you can swear by the tone of his voice that he must have the biggest grin on under that helmet right now. “I kinda like the idea, my job being to protect you and service your every, ahem, need.”

“Din, the kiddo is right there,” you whisper a little flustered at his suggestiveness.

“Come here, my princess,” he says playfully as he pats his lap.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” you tell him, but you move towards him anyway because you can’t help yourself.

He tugs you down to sit in his lap, “Oh, we’ve only just started having fun.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The landing crew that meets you on Angel One is most decidedly not about fun. When you descend the Crest’s ramp, you are met with five of the largest warrior-like women you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They are all broad, muscular, and statuesque, decked out in black and gold armor on their arms, chests, and legs, and wearing capes decorated with animal fur. Their makeup is like war paint and they seem to share Din’s love of weapons. You can’t deny that they are all fiercely beautiful and you suddenly feel insecure. Geeze, no wonder Din wanted to come here, these women look like a Mandalorian’s wet dream. You take a deep breath and tell yourself that you are a beautiful and influential princess. You repeat this to yourself a few times and steady your shoulders as you do.

You hold your head up as high as you can and address the women, “Good morning and thank you for welcoming us to your home. We hope that your Mistress will find us worthy of a visit.”

One of the women nods to you as she says, “Right this way Your Highness, Mistress Lagertha is expecting you.”

You follow the woman as she leads you into a large governmental building. Both Din and the child follow behind you allowing you to be the more prominent figure in your little party. The building is a very grand stone structure with sweeping columns and polished stone floors. The furnishings are mostly dark, grey and black with a few metallic accents. You pass several people, all women, who stop to stare at you as you walk down the long corridor. When you reach the end of the passageway, you are ushered into a large office where you see a majestic blonde woman. While this woman is not wearing armor, she exudes power and once again, you are dwarfed by her size. She rises from her desk when you enter and offers you a small half bow.

“Welcome, Your Highness, please have a seat and we will begin the interview.” She pointedly addresses her welcome only to you as if Din isn’t even present. You approach her desk and the proffered chair, while he remains quietly by the door with the child’s pram.

“Thank you for being willing to speak with me, it’s an honor to meet you, Mistress Lagertha,” Now that you’re both seated you feel a little more confident as it’s easier to look her in the eye.

“It’s very interesting to meet you,” she says with a smile, “I’ve never seen an off-worlder before.” She looks over your appearance carefully. In helping to perpetrate your ruse, you’re wearing a summer dress in a pink floral fabric. The dress has a long swirly skirt and it seemed like the most princess-y thing you owned. You’ve also taken extra care to do your hair and make-up in a slightly fancier style. You even took the time to dress up the child as your little ward, wrapping a brightly colored scarf around his tunic like a sash and pinning a costume jewelry broach to it. He seemed to like it, once he stopped trying to bite it. Of course, Din is handsome as always in his well-polished armor and you think all together you should be able to fool these people who haven’t seen many real royals.

You’re surprised when she starts to laugh lightly after looking you over. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting you to look so manly.”

“Excuse me?” Your confusion could not be more evident as you look down at yourself. This is quite possibly the least manly you’ve ever looked.

“Well, I knew you would be small, those who’ve seen off-world women have always described them as small, but the pastels, the flowers, even your make-up, you look like one of our men.” She chuckles again lightly.

“Ah, I see,” you reply trying to keep your face neutral, “Where I come from, this would be considered very feminine.” She smiles widely at this and laughs again. Well, if anything you’ve certainly broken the ice.

“That’s hysterical!” She says, delighted, “Plus your man is wearing armor! I’ve never seen such a thing.”

Oh Maker! You really wish she wouldn’t laugh at Din. To his credit, Din makes no reaction whatsoever; he’s doing his silent suit of armor thing again.

She asks you a long series of biographical questions most of which are very easy to answer and require little to no lying at all. Thankfully, you and Din practiced speaking about your invented past and so when you do need to be untruthful it comes out naturally. The only time you feel you really slip up is when she asks you about your views on the New Republic.

“Well, clearly there is much we can learn about your culture and so much that we can share with you about ours,” you say diplomatically.

“I support the New Republic, but I wish they would be more persistent in going after former Imperials. There are still too many evil men out there wreaking havoc in the galaxy.” You can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice and you know you’ve dropped your polite expression in favor of a frown. Uh oh, probably should have given a more politically neutral answer.

Fortunately, Mistress Lagertha says, “A very good point. Men seems to be particularly bent towards doing evil.”

While you can’t agree with that blanket statement, it seems better to simply nod and continue with the interview. For the rest of the time, you try to be your most charming self and it seems to work, because you’re starting to feel like she’s almost a friend the more you converse. When she gets to the part about the reason for your visit, you have a more elaborate answer about cultural exchange prepared, but she says,

“Of course the reason for your visit must be the Jubilee of Astrid which begins this evening. It’s our most sacred and special time, and the most common time for off-worlders to request a visit.”

“Yes, I would be truly honored to be able to experience your sacred celebration,” you say in an awed tone. You have no idea what she is talking about, but this is clearly the answer she expects to hear.

“I understand as a princess there must be certain pressures on you, especially from familial demands,” Lagertha says.

“Yes, there are,” you agree with her demurely, but still clueless as to what she’s getting at.

“Well, you can be certain to have your prayers answered while you are here, and enjoy yourself immensely! May Astrid bless you!” She gives you a cheeky grin as she says this and her eyes flick back to Din for the first time in quite a while. “Incidentally, if your man isn’t up to the task, I’m sure we can find you a man who will find your uniqueness appealing.”

“I assure you that won’t be necessary, my guard is always prepared for any task,” you tell her. You’re still not sure of her meaning, but there’s something in the gleam in her eye that tells you that you only want to be with Din for whatever ‘tasks’ are involved in this holiday of theirs.

“Well, that’s good then.” She’s smiling at you again and then extends her hand, “Welcome to Angel One, we would be honored to grant you permission to stay on our planet for as long as you like.”

You grasp her large hand in your smaller one and give her a beaming (and relieved) smile as you thank her. You’ve successfully secured your visit.

A communication device on her desks beeps and she presses a small button, which allows a voice to state, “Mistress Sigrid wishes to meet the off-world princess.”

“Thank you, Brenna, please let her know that we’re ready for her at any time,” Lagertha replies. She then turns her attention back to you as she explains, “Mistress Sigrid is our leader, the Elected One, and I must confess she has been monitoring this meeting.” You nod and smile, it doesn’t surprise you really, considering how cautious they are about visitors.

“I am delighted to have the opportunity to meet her.” You hope this is a sign that you’ve made a good impression if their leader wants to say hello.

A door in a side wall opens and a stately woman enters. You rise to your feet out of respect as she approaches. She’s older than Lagertha but still moves with the athletic grace of a younger woman. Like the other women you’ve seen here, she is striking with shrewd eyes and a small scar on her cheek that adds to her mystique rather than marring her beauty.

“Your Highness, how lovely it is to meet you,” Mistress Sigrid greets you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“It is a pleasure, Elected One,” you reply, craning your neck to meet her gaze, as once again she is incredibly tall.

“I must say I have never seen or heard an off-world woman quite like you before,” she tells you with respect, “The others I’ve met have been rather anxious and shy, and so easily intimidated.” She dismisses them with a wave of her hand.

“It is a shame you haven’t met more off-world women then, many are quite strong and accomplished. Perhaps while I am here, I can demonstrate how capable we can be,” you reply. The way she says that irritates you immensely but you know you need to stay overly respectful towards her and so you swallow any other comments you’d like to make.

She laughs warmly at your response, “See, I knew I liked you already! You have a spark about you.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“And this is your little ward, hmm?” She walks over to the child who is starting at her with big eyes and a slightly wary expression.

“Yes, my guard rescued him and he is in my care.” You follow her over, reach down into his pram to pick him up, and hold him so she can see him better.

“Hello, tiny child,” she says to him, “Aren’t you a cute little thing?”

He looks mesmerized by her for a moment, and then is suddenly shy, turning his head into your chest. She merely chuckles and you gently place him back in his pram and hand him one of his stuffed toys to hold.

“Shame he’s a male though,” she comments. You don’t know how to respond to that terrible statement and so you elect to simply stay quiet.

“And this is your bodyguard, a Mandalorian.” Mistress Sigrid approaches Din now looking him up and down with curiosity. “I’ve never had the fortune to see a real Mandalorian, I’ve only heard stories,” she says with interest. It’s the most attention anyone has paid to Din this entire time.

“What do you call him?” Mistress Lagertha pipes up.

“Mando,” you tell her, knowing that you can’t share Din’s real name with anyone.

“Mando, will you turn around, I’d like to look at you,” Mistress Sigrid says, speaking to him directly. Something about her tone of voice rubs you the wrong way and you’re fortunate that she’s looking so intently at Din because you fail to hide your displeasure on your face.

Din complies with her request, rotating so she can look at him. He had heard that the women openly objectify the men on this planet and so he knows this is the type of treatment he can expect. It doesn’t really bother him too much as he’s used to people staring at him no matter where he is. He knows Mandalorians are unique and the beskar will always draw attention. He has to bite his lip though to keep from laughing at your expression as Mistress Sigrid ogles him. You look positively jealous.

“That is sufficient, Mando.” The Elected One seems to have gotten her fill.

“Mistress,” he replies softly.

“So unusual to see a man so large and wearing armor,” Mistress Sigrid is turning back towards you with a smile and a little shrug.

Din sees that you’ve managed to paste a bland smile back on your face as you tell her, “I’m so accustomed to it that it would be odd to see him in anything else.” He catches your eye and gives you a nod. It’s the only thing he can do to reassure you that everything is going well. Honestly, he’s so thankful that you were able to do all of the talking for this meeting. You handled all the questions so well and he knows you were able to be charismatic in a way he doesn’t think he ever could. It’s a real credit to your communication skills, especially as Mistress Sigrid is now inviting you to stay at the Elected One’s state residence.

“That is very kind of you, Mistress Sigrid,” you say, “But we wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble on our behalf.”

“Nonsense, it will be delightful to have you there,” she replies, “You will be my special guests for the Jubilee. I do hope you have something red to wear, it is the official color of the celebration.”

“As a matter of fact, I have just the dress,” you tell her.

Mistress Sigrid arranges for two of her staff to accompany you back to the Razor Crest so you can collect your things before they will take you to get settled at the state residence.

“I’ll see you tonight at the opening gala for the Jubilee, and may Astrid bless you!” Mistress Sigrid says before bidding you farewell for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The state residence is an elegant mansion and you have to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be a princess and so you shouldn’t be overly impressed by any of this. Still you can’t help letting your eyes wander over the beautiful furnishings and art. The mansion reflects much of what seems to be the core beliefs for this society, that women are strong fighters who have accomplished great things, while men are beautiful decorations. You haven’t seen any men in person yet, but in the artwork, they are portrayed as soft and fragile looking creatures with dainty features dressed primarily in flowery pastels, just like you at the moment.

Every woman you pass still stops to openly gawk at you and now you are even hearing laughter accompanied by hushed voices no doubt discussing your odd appearance. You try to ignore it, but you’re not used to being assessed like this so much. You look over to Din and wonder if this is what it’s like for him on a daily basis, not that people laugh at him, of course.

When you reach your room at the residence, you are astonished by the grandeur of the accommodations you’ve been given. Your ‘room’ is actually a large suite with a sitting room, bedroom, and elegant bathroom. After briefly showing you around, Mistress Sigrid’s staff finally leave you alone to rest and relax before the grand gala tonight.

“Thank the Maker!” you say flopping onto the giant four-poster bed. “I feel like I’ve been under a microscope this whole day.”

“Yeah, they really seem quite fascinated by you,” Din says chuckling. He hands the child a piece of fruit from the generous buffet of treats the Mistress’ staff has provided for you. The little guy chomps down on it quickly and you smile at his cuteness.

“I’d say they’re fascinated by us, or at least Mistress Sigrid sure was,” you say still a little miffed at the way she practically undressed Din with her eyes.

Din laughs again, “Your face when she was making me turn for her nearly had me in stitches,” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask sitting up to look at him better.

He walks over to you and cups your cheek in his hand gently, “You looked rather jealous.” His voice is still full of mirth as he says this and you get the impression that he liked it, at least a little.

“I didn’t like the way she was treating you like an object,” you say reproachfully, but then you look up more directly at him, “Ok, but fine, maybe I was jealous too,” you admit.

“Cyar’ika, you don’t have to be jealous,” he says, “But it is kinda cute.” He’s still chuckling as he steps in between your legs and his hands move to your shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

“It’s hard not be when they’re all insanely giant, stunning, war goddess women,” you reply. Looking up at him thoughtfully, you say, “Seems like that would be just the kind of woman a Mandalorian would find incredibly attractive.” You can’t help the note of insecurity in your voice as you say that.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Not this Mandalorian, besides, I’m already with the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.” He taps your nose playfully as he says this and you smile back at him.

“You really do say the sweetest things, Din.”

“Only to you, cyar’ika.” He replies and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The sound of inquisitive coos interrupts your conversation, and you look over to the child. “Maybe they’ll let us visit the gardens for a while. I think the kiddo could use some fresh air.”

“That’s a good idea, especially because it sounds like our entire evening is already planned with their gala.” Din nods his head as he says this.

“I’m just going to change first, maybe if I put on something black they won’t stare as much,” you tell him.

“Ok, the kid and I’ll wait in the other room.”

You take a moment to hang up your gown for tonight as well as your black dress that you thought to bring too. You put a few of your other things away in the dresser in the room to help keep them organized, when you find a few things that have been provided for your stay, some soft robes, slippers, and a couple black satin sleep masks. Your mind instantly goes to a naughty place as you feel the soft material between your fingers. You slip it on over your eyes, blindfolding yourself completely.

“Hey, Din, come here and look what I found,” you say playfully. You hear him come back into the room.

“What? Oh.” Din’s voice seems to drop several octaves with just that one small sound. “Can you see anything with that on?”

“Not a thing,” you reply.

“Stay there and keep it on,” he tells you and you hear his footsteps approaching you until you can feel that he’s right in front of you.

“You really can’t see anything?” Din asks again.

“No, I promise.”

You hear a soft hiss followed by a metallic thunk on the dresser behind you. Then you feel Din pull you in close to him and he lowers his face towards yours, letting his bare forehead touch yours for the first time. He nuzzles into you more, letting his nose caress yours and then you feel his warm breath against your lips.

“May I kiss you, really kiss you?” Din asks his lips practically brushing against your mouth with his question.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

His lips melt into yours in a sweet kiss as his hands come up to rest on either side of your neck. He seems just a little hesitant, so you slowly start to move beneath him, guiding. He follows your lead, letting his lips explore more. You part your lips slightly so you can tease his plump bottom lip in between yours. He parts his lips when you do this and daringly, you let your tongue lick into his mouth just slightly. His reaction is immediate, as he opens his mouth more to give you greater access. You deepen the kiss and brush your tongue against his. He groans deep in his chest when your tongues meet and he pulls you in tight to his body. You let your hands roam around the back of his neck and into his soft hair. You’re kissing him passionately now, showing him what you like. Din’s response is enthusiastic, as he chases your lips and tongue wherever they wish to lead him. Just before you pull away to catch your breath, you give his bottom lip a suck making him groan again.

“Is kissing always this great?” Din pants out.

“No,” you tell him honestly, “I think it must you.”

“It’s us,” he says before capturing your lips again. This time he teases you with his tongue and tries sucking your lip the way you did to his. It draws out a moan from you; he’s clearly a very quick learner.

A sudden crashing sound from the other room reminds you both that you’re not alone and that you promised the child some outdoor fun. Din groans softly before giving you one more quick kiss and then pulls away from you. You feel him reach for his helmet as you try to take a deep breath and collect yourself.

“Ok, you can take off the mask now,” he says, “But, put it somewhere safe for later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a nice afternoon spent exploring the mansion’s lush gardens, followed by a hot cup of tea and several delicious snacks that were thoughtfully provided, it’s time to get ready for the gala. You already know you’ll wear your new red gown, but you decide to go more avant garde with your hair and make-up to hopefully create a better impression on the women tonight. It’s a good look, but something is missing that will give you a certain edge that you want to achieve. You look through your meager jewelry collection but nothing gives off the right vibe. You look over to where the child is playing with Din and you have an idea.

“Buddy, can I borrow your mythosaur for tonight?” You ask the little one. He smiles up at you and gives you his happy coo. You gently take the necklace off him and drape it over your head. The silver pendant comes to rest just above your cleavage, and it’s perfect, much better for the darker image you’re trying to achieve.

You turn with a flourish towards Din, “Well, what do you think? Still a princess but maybe more to the standards of this place?”

Din cannot respond to you because his mouth has gone completely dry. He thinks you look outstanding in that sexy dress that he bought you and then, it’s made even better because you’re wearing his mythosaur around your neck. Fuck! He looks at it sparkling against your bosom, it’s like you’ve put on a giant sign that says you belong to him. It creates a primal reaction in him and it’s taking all his self-control not to grab you and claim you as his right now.

“Din? Is it too much?”

“No, I like it,” Din practically growls at you, “I like it so much, I’m thinking I’d like to pull you back into that bedroom and show you how much I like it.”

“Di-in,” you stretch out his name as you can feel your cheeks blazing with his praise and it makes you giggle a little. He’s never been so outrageously direct like that before.

“I’m serious,” he says, “That’s how good you look. In fact you better pick up the baby to keep me in check.” He’s teasing you now, but his voice still sounds predatory. Your heart is racing and he’s making you feel lightheaded.

“Stop, you’re being naughty,” you flirt back at him, but you do pick up the child in any case. As much as you’d much rather stay in the bedroom with him, you know you have an obligation to go to this gala tonight. And as if on cue, there is a knock at your door.

Mistress Sigrid is there and for the first time, there are men with her. The men are much smaller in stature, dressed in soft pastel colors and wearing make-up that resembles what you had on earlier today. You notice that one of the men is more conservatively dressed, while the other is wearing a rather revealing outfit with a dramatic deep vee neckline that practically screams ‘boy toy’. You’ve never seen anything quite like it. Both men clock you with big eyes and smiles, like the women, they appear to be amused by you too, only at least they don’t laugh out loud. When they glance at Din, however, their smiles falter and they seem taken aback at his presence. You wonder if Din looks somehow feminine to them going by their standards. Your thoughts are interrupted by Sigrid before you have more time to consider the men.

“Good evening, Your Highness, you look festive,” she says, but from her tone it doesn’t exactly sound like a compliment. She is also wearing red, but instead of a gown, she has on a sharply tailored suit, almost like a red tuxedo.

“Thank you.” You just smile at her diplomatically.

“Gregor is here to collect your little ward for the evening to take him off to the nursery to play with the other children and provide him with a nice place to sleep for the night.” She motions to the more conservatively dressed man who is smiling and waving at the child.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting that, he usually just accompanies me everywhere,” you respond. Although Gregor seems nice enough, you feel reluctant at leaving the little guy with someone else.

“Nonsense, you don’t want to bring a child to the gala tonight. It isn’t done.” Sigrid declares.

“Well, I need to see the nursery first, before I decide if I’m going to let him stay there.” You want to be certain you and Din know exactly where the child will be and how to get to him quickly in case of an emergency.

“I suppose,” Sigrid sighs, but then she smiles at you again, “There’s that feisty spark I saw in you earlier.”

Gregor motions for you to follow him, “This way Your Highness,” he says in a shy voice.

“Gregor, do you take care of many children?” You would like to know more about his background.

“Oh, yes, I am the nanny for all of the mistresses on the High Council for any of their children under age 5.” He smiles warmly at you, “They will all be there tonight too, so your little one will have plenty of other children to play with; there’s about a dozen all together.”

“Is it just you taking care of all of the children?” That seems like too many for just one person.

“No, no, I have three assistants too,” Gregor says, “You’ll be able to meet them at the nursery.”

You continue to pepper Gregor with questions about childcare and the nursery and he seems positively delighted with all the attention you’re paying towards him. You sometimes hear Sigrid let out a sigh as if she finds the entire conversation boring, but you don’t care, after all the child is your primary priority. When you arrive at the nursery, you can see that everything is quite nice and it does seem like a safe place for the little guy to spend the evening. You kiss him goodbye and Din pats him on the head and gives him a soft reminder that he should be on his best behavior.

“Oh isn’t that cute!” The boy-toy guy coos as he watches you and Din say goodnight to the child. It’s the first you’ve heard him speak.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you your name earlier,” you say to him as you’re leaving the nursery, “I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just very focused on the child, you understand.”

“Well aren’t you sweet, Your Highness,” he says beaming at you, “I’m Trent, I’m Mistress Sigrid’s lover.” He seems very proud of that fact.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Trent,” you reply with a nod. You slip your hand around Din’s elbow deciding that they already seem to know you two are a couple, so you might as well feel free to show a little affection. You tilt your head towards Din as you say, “This is Mando.”

“I know,” Trent says giggling a little, “The man in armor, it’s so shocking.” Trent sounds both amused and a little scandalized. “It’s super nice to meet you, Mando. I can’t wait to hear more about you and your princess at dinner. You’re all anyone is talking about.” He winks and flashes his dazzling white teeth.

“Nice to meet you,” Din says. His voice and body language don’t give anything away but you wonder if he’s a little taken aback by Trent’s enthusiasm.

“Yes, the men will have plenty of time to get to know one another during the feast since they’ll be sitting together at their table,” Sigrid explains, and then addresses you directly, “You’ll be with me at the head table with all the other mistresses of the High Council.”

“Oh, you don’t sit together as couples?” With the insinuations that Mistress Lagertha made earlier about the Jubilee, it seemed like this was going to be an event for couples or at least dates.

“Not during the dinner,” Sigrid tells you, “It gives us women time to have serious discussions while the men can chatter about lighter things. Trust me, your Mando will have a much better time conversing with the other men. He won’t miss you at all.” You doubt that, but say nothing and simply grip Din’s arm a bit tighter as a way of silently communicating with him.

“Besides,” she continues, “You’ll have plenty of time to sit together during the entertainment.”

“Ooh, it’s going to be so good this year too,” Trent says, “My best friend is one of the performers and he’s been filling me in on all the juicy details. I’ll tell you all about it, Mando.” Oh my, seems Din’s made a new friend already.

“Just be sure you don’t spoil it for him though, Trent,” Sigrid says patting his shoulder.

“Oh, I won’t,” Trent beams up at her. He reminds you a bit of an eager puppy just so happy to please her in any way.

At last, you come to a large room festooned with red, black, and gold decorations and several round dining tables. The table in the middle of the room is the biggest and it is raised up on a dais so that it is more visible across the entire room. There are several people milling about with glasses of wine and a few servers passing appetizers throughout the space. You’re thankful to see that several of the women are also wearing red gowns, so at least you’re not the only one in a dress. But once again, your attire is much more feminine by your standards. Where your gown is more revealing and designed to show off the curves of your figure, theirs have long sleeves and high necklines designed to showcase their muscular frames. The men are almost all dressed like Trent in soft pastels of varying colors with revealing tops that show off their chests and very tight pants that show off other assets. As you enter the room with Mistress Sigrid, a gong sounds to announce your arrival and every eye that wasn’t already staring at you is suddenly on you as a hush comes over the room.

“Good Evening, all!” Mistress Sigrid’s voice booms out, “I am pleased to welcome you to this year’s opening gala of the Jubilee of Astrid, may she bless you all!” Cheers and applause follow this statement. Sigrid holds up her hand and waits for everyone to quiet again.

“Tonight we welcome our special guests, a princess and her Mandalorian!” Polite applause follows this along with several whispers and small bouts of laughter. You smile placidly at the room and nod your head in greeting.

“Take your seats and let’s begin the feast!” Sigrid announces and the cheering and applause build back up.

“C’mon, Mando I’ll show you where our table is,” Trent motions.

“Just a moment,” Din replies, before turning to you and dropping his helmet to your forehead, his voice is low so that only you can hear it as he says, “Have a good dinner, cyar’ika.”

“I’ll see you later,” you whisper back to him and give his hands a squeeze before being led away by Sigrid.

“You two are very affectionate with one another, I think you’re going to enjoy tonight’s festivities quite a lot,” Sigrid says smirking at you.

At the table, she introduces you to all of the mistresses seated there, most of whom look you over with amusement and curiosity. There are a few though who seem displeased by your presence and they openly frown at you. You suppose it is due to your off-worlder status more than anything else, but you sincerely hope you haven’t made some type of social gaff that may have offended them. You look over to the men’s table and notice that Din has positioned himself so that he is seated in your direct line of sight. It puts you at ease knowing that you can look up at any time and see that familiar helmet and visor.

One of the younger mistresses, Eira, seems the most interested in you and she seems to be one of the friendliest so you strike up a conversation with her. She tells you about her background as a professional fighter, and how that fame brought her into the arena of politics. You’re telling her a little bit about your travels with Din, when one of the other mistresses, Runa, pipes up,

“Yes, tell us all about the Mandalorian.”

“Well, he’s an incredibly skilled fighter, very brave, and I trust him with my life,” you say, thinking that’s what will most likely impress them.

“No, no,” Runa says, “Tell us about your relationship with him. And not just the lovey-dovey stuff, the good stuff.”

“The good stuff?” you repeat, rather surprised.

“Yeah, like what’s it like sleeping with a man who’s so large?” Eira asks, apparently also curious to hear about Din.

“Well, it’s great,” you tell them, “He’s very big and strong and I like the way it makes me feel when I’m in his arms.” You know you’re being liberal with the definition of ‘sleeping with’ here but they don’t need to know that.

“Huh?” Eira responds, “It just seems so weird. I like my men the smaller the better, like I can just wrap myself around their whole body.” The other women nod along with her and several look at you like you must be crazy.

“I suppose that’s just one of the differences between our cultures, but I would say that where I come from, people are very accepting of all different types of bodies and partners. I’m sure there are women from my society who prefer smaller men like you do.” Eira smiles at you when you say this.

“Yes, but when you say big, is he big everywhere?” Runa asks you pointedly and motions with her hands holding them side by side and then expending them outward little by little.

You laugh at loud at that, especially because of the alarmed look on her face as her hands get wider apart. You notice too that now the entire table is waiting for your answer, so much for Sigrid’s ‘serious discussions’. You smile, amused by their interest, and you can’t help but glance over at Din for a moment before you tell them,

“He is very well endowed.” You might not have direct knowledge of that, but from the time you saw him after swimming and the times you’ve felt him against you lately, you know your answer is correct.

“But doesn’t that, you know, hurt you?” Runa wants to know. Her face is very concerned and you do all you can to keep from laughing again so that she won’t think you rude.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you tell her, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Tell us more about him as a lover,” Lagertha says, her voice loud as it carries across the table. You cringe a bit internally at that because you know that the men’s table has to have heard her. You look right at Din and he tips his helmet in a way that you know means ‘really?’ and you give him a slight shrug in response.

Maker, what can you say to these horny women? Your experience with him is so limited as it is. You decide to just go off of what you do know and then let your imagination fill in the gaps. You figure as long as you keep them entertained with this, they’ll be less likely to ask you any other questions about your invented background that could potentially poke holes in your story. So you tell them all about how generous Din is as a lover, that he’s tender and caring, but then able to be harder and rough when you want him to be. You make him out to be a complete sex god for these women and they are entranced.

“Well, then, it seems like you have the perfect partner for the Jubilee,” Sigrid says chuckling, “I’m sure he’ll get you pregnant.”

You choke on your wine as she says this. What the hell?

“Of course he will, you don’t have to worry,” Eira says and she pats your arm supportively, “After all, that is the point of a fertility festival and Astrid is sure to bless you even if you’re an off-worlder.”

Sweet Maker above! You can only imagine what the rest of this Jubilee will entail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Din are finally able to be back together after the dinner. It feels like a relief to have him place his hand on the small of your back as you both follow everyone to a large ballroom where the entertainment is scheduled to begin soon.

“So, what am I like as a lover?” Din leans down to ask you discreetly, his voice is teasing though.

“I knew you had to have heard that,” you say embarrassed, “But these crazy horny women just wouldn’t stop asking me about you.”

“It was the same for me,” he tells you, “All the men wanted to hear about how we fell in love.”

You laugh as you tell him, “Oh no, the women only wanted to hear about sex. But I am curious to know what you told the men.”

“And I’m curious to hear what you told the women,” Din replies.

“Well, obviously I had to do some speculating, but in essence I told them you were a very generous and highly-skilled lover, oh, and that you’re very large.” You wink at him as you say this and give him your most flirtatious smile.

Din pulls you in closer to him and tilts his head down to tell you, “I think that’s a fairly accurate description but I’d much rather you’d experience it first-hand instead of just taking my word for it.” You shiver in anticipation at that.

“Ok, now, what did you tell the men?” You’re very interested to hear this.

“I told them the truth, that you’re the most beautiful, kind, and caring woman I’ve ever known, that you make my life so much better, and that I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you, I also told them that you’re a wonderful kisser.” He says this so sincerely that your heart swells with happiness.

You drop your voice to a whisper so that there’s no way anyone will overhear you use his name, “Din, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” you have to pause for a moment to collect yourself before you tell him, “I hope you know that you make my life so much better too.” You want to tell him more but it’s too public here.

“Thank you for telling me, cyar’ika,” he replies, his voice sounding warm even in a whisper.

Speaking of romantic, the ballroom is set up like a large cabaret with small tables for couples all around, only instead of chairs, each table has a rounded booth with a high back, positioned to face the large open area in the front of the room. As couples start to be seated, you can see that there’s quite a bit of privacy for each table despite the large number of attendees.

“Trent said we can sit wherever we like, but I get the impression we should pick something near the performance area so they’ll think we’re really interested in the show,” Din tells you. You find a table in the second row with a good view of the stage area. The booth is very comfortable and you lean into Din as he places his arm around your shoulders.

“Did Trent give you details about the show?”

He groans slightly, “Yes, probably too many, the best I can tell you is that we’re going to see an erotic celebration designed to honor their goddess, Astrid.”

“Ah yes, I found out something else about this celebration,” you tell him, “This whole Jubilee is a fertility festival; everyone thinks we’re here so that you’ll get me pregnant, that’s what they mean when they say ‘may Astrid bless you’.” Your face feels hot as you inform him of this.

“Well, I’ll certainly give it my all, cyar’ika,” Din tell you, his voice sounding deeper.

“Very funny,” you reply, “I have an implant in any case.”

“Still, practice does make perfect,” he says, laughing, “And the thought does intrigue me.” You giggle in response to that and then start to quiet down as the lights dim.

Truthfully, Din is more than intrigued by the idea. The men also filled him in on the purpose of this holiday during the dinner and he has been thinking about it ever since. Honestly, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of taking you to bed all day, and his arousal has only been growing. While impractical, the idea of seeing you pregnant with his child is appealing to him in ways he never knew were possible. The reality of how much he wants that someday with you is so strong it’s almost overwhelming to him. In the past, the idea of becoming attached to someone never interested him; the women that he met were good for a sexual release but they were never anyone he wanted to spend time with outside of the bedroom. But with you, everything looks different, feels different, and he wants things he’s never wanted before.

Din’s thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of several dancers, male and female, who have started their performance. He watches a bit at first but then becomes bored and turns his attention back to you. He likes the way you’re cuddled up to him, he’s glad you’re not shy about showing him affection in public. Din is also enjoying watching your face and your reactions as you watch the performance unfold. You seem enthralled until you notice his visor is turned toward you instead of the dancers.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, blinking up at him. He simply gives your shoulder a squeeze and nods.

He keeps looking at you instead of the performance though until he sees your eyes widen and you gasp. Din turns his attention back to the dancers to see that they are removing most of their clothing to reveal their bodies. The dancers then start to pair off and dance together in what can only be described as the most sexual dancing Din has ever seen. There is grinding, thrusting, and a lot of groping. Turns out Trent was right about it being an erotic spectacle. He chuckles a bit to himself at the description and really, it’s nothing worse than some of the pornographic holovids he’s seen before. He looks down at you however and notices that you have become a little restless next to him. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the dancers and he sees your tongue come out to wet your lips as you watch. This is turning you on, he realizes. As he glances around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you, he notes that several of the couples in the booths have started to put on their own performances, so to speak, and no one is interested in the two of you anymore. Never a man to let an opportunity pass by, Din decides to take full advantage of the situation and he reaches over and pulls you into his lap.

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasp, surprised by his actions.

“Shh, cyar’ika, look around,” he tells you. You look over at the other booths to see that most everyone else is making out all around you.

“Oh”

“It’s ok, keep watching the dancers, I can tell you like it,” Din says as his arms wrap around you. He holds you like that for a moment as you continue to watch the performers simulate various sexual acts. But before long his hands begin to wander, starting by running his fingers lightly over your collarbone. He traces the line of your necklace down to the mythosaur and then brushes against the tops of your breasts just along the edge of your bodice. Din hears you let out a small whine as he touches you and it emboldens him to palm one of your breasts fully. Between the layers of fabric of your dress and his gloves, it’s only a tease, but as he continues to grope you, he can hear the pace of your breathing increase. Din wants more and his hand finds the long slit in your dress allowing him to run his fingers up your thigh. He can feel your warmth as he gently kneads your flesh. Each movement he makes seems to elicit a small sound from you and he’s eager to hear more. Din slowly makes his way higher up your skirt thinking he’ll just tease the edges of your panties or maybe touch you over them, when he realizes he’s not finding any.

“Oh, my naughty girl, are you not wearing anything under this dress?” Din asks.

“Didn’t seem necessary,” you whisper to him.

He lets his fingers lightly explore between your legs, and when he can feel how wet you are already he can’t keep himself from letting his hand become more bold. He runs two of his fingers through your damp folds and up to the small bundle of nerves that he knows will bring you the most pleasure. Din feels you shudder against him as he circles your clit before bringing his fingers back down. The movement makes you shift your hips over his making you grind against his cock and he lets out a deep groan. It’s more than he can take and he says,

“We’re going back to room, now.”

“But, the show is still going on,” you say a little worried about being rude to your hostess.

“No one will miss us,” Din insists, “Let’s go.”

You quickly slide out of the booth following Din and he grabs your hand to hustle you to the exit. He’s right that no one seems to notice you at all, except for one other couple that is also sneaking out early. Din and you practically run back to your room, but once you get inside all you can do is stand there for a moment looking at each other.

“I want to make love to you,” Din says, his voice deep, “Please tell me you want that too.”

“I do, so much,” you reply.

He sweeps you into his arms and brings his helmet down to your forehead, as he asks, “Can we use the sleep mask? I really want to kiss you again and be able to use my mouth on your body.”

“Yes, but can we get undressed first?” you ask, “Because I’d like to see your body for a bit before.”

“Absolutely,” Din replies and he starts to pull off his armor. You have a lot less to remove, so with a simple whoosh of fabric, you’re standing before him in only your bra and his mythosaur necklace. You unhook the bra and toss it aside.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Din says, as he yanks at his own clothing in an attempt to be faster. You reach to lift the necklace off, when Din stops you, “No, don’t, I’d like it if you’d leave that on.”

“Oh?”

“I like seeing it on you, especially when it’s the only thing you have on,” he rasps out.

He’s finally almost totally naked except for his boxers and his helmet. Din can see you are transfixed with the way you are practically hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. It makes him smile how enthusiastic you are to see him. He slows his movements to draw out the moment and watches your face intently as he leisurely lowers the boxers from his hips. He sees your eyes widen and he chuckles as your mouth makes the most adorable little ‘o’.

“Wow, Din, you are the gorgeous one,” you reply practically in awe, “And I was right, you are large.”

Din chuckles at that comment, “I’m glad you like the view.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of it,” you say as you walk closer to him and as soon as you are in arms reach, Din pulls you to him so he can finally feel you. The sensation overwhelms him and all he can do is hold you there reveling in the feeling of your naked body against his. He lets out a loud groan from deep in his chest.

“I never thought this could feel so good,” Din breathes out. You shift against him and he groans again, “Please can we get the blindfold now? I need to kiss you.”

You pull away from him to reach into the nightstand drawer where you stashed the sleep mask. You take one last long look at his nude form before giving him an appreciative smile and slipping the mask on over your eyes. Not a second later, you hear a clunk as the helmet hits the floor and then Din is on you. He kisses you like he’ll never get another chance again, so full of passion and desire that it makes your head spin. His kiss is so all consuming that you don’t even realize that he’s picked you up and carried you to the bed, until he’s lying you back onto the soft cover. Din breaks the kiss just for a moment so that he can climb on top of you and come to rest comfortably between your spread legs.

Din could kiss you forever if you would let him. He loves the way your lips mold to his and the feeling of your tongue tasting his. He only pulls away to let you both catch your breath slightly before he’s back, trying to kiss you with even more fervor each time. Finally, you break the kiss so that you can explore more and the soft feel of your lips on his neck is magical. You find a sensitive spot just under his ear that makes him moan with pleasure. That moan quickly turns into a growl though as you use your teeth to nip at the spot.

“Ah, cyar’ika, let me try that on you,” he says, moving so that he has better access to your neck. Like you, he starts with soft kisses before biting into your neck to mark you as his. You’re more vocal than he is, letting out little mewls and whines of pleasure the more he kisses and sucks on your skin. He works his way down your neck to your chest, kissing and nipping at you the entire way. Finally, he’s at your breasts and Din does something he’s been dreaming of forever. He takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, pleasuring the sensitive peak with his tongue.

“Din!” you cry out his name and arch your back beneath him from how wonderful it feels. You can’t keep still as he suckles you. You run your fingers through his thick, wavy hair and then down his strong shoulders. When he tries out his teeth on your breast, you scratch your fingernails down his back. You feel his responding groan vibrate against your chest before he lifts his head from you,

“Do that again, cyar’ika, I liked it,” he tells you before switching to your other nipple to lavish it with the same mind-blowing pleasure. You rake your fingernails down his back again and again, as you writhe beneath him. It feels so good but yet, it isn’t enough.

“Please, Din, please,” you beg him.

He pulls off your breast with a soft pop of his lips, “Please what?” he asks you, his voice sounding amused.

“Touch me,” you pant out, “Please.”

“I am touching you,” Din teases and he drops his head back down so he can lick in between your breasts and down your stomach. “Or do you want me touch you somewhere else? Maybe here?” He licks and nibbles just above your belly button.

“Yes, but lower,” you say.

“How about here?” Din kisses lower, near your hipbone.

“Din!” Your voice comes out as a whine and he chuckles, Maker, he’s such a tease.

You feel him shift his body down and even though you can’t see him, you know he’s looking right at your pussy. You wait in anticipation of his touch and then start to wonder, as he doesn’t move.

“Din?”

“Just enjoying the beautiful sight,” he says, his voice full of desire. He waits just a beat more and then you feel his tongue moving through your wet folds.

You shudder and let out a loud moan as he licks you. He’s moving so slow, like he’s trying to savor you, and it feels wonderful but it’s also so maddening.

“Please, please more,” you beg him, your voice shaky in your need.

Din is happy to oblige you and he lets his tongue begin to explore you in earnest. His hands are splayed on each of your thighs as his mouth moves over you. As he licks you higher, he holds your lips open with his thumbs so he can have better access to your clit. Each time he lets his tongue brush over the little pearl, you cry out. He keeps this up for a bit, tormenting you, until he finally latches his lips around it and sucks your clit into his mouth. You cry out his name so loudly when he does that and you thrust your hands into his hair gripping it tightly.

The sensation makes him groan and he’s pleased when you do it again. The more he suckles and tongues your clit, the harder you tremble against him and he has to push down on your hips to keep you still. He pulls away from you for just a moment and lets his thumb draw circles on your clit in place of his tongue.

“You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, cyar’ika,” he tells you, “Wanted to do this for so long, so much better than I could have imagined.”

All you can do is moan in response because the mounting pleasure has robbed you of all logical thought. Din dives back into you, licking his tongue around your entrance before he pushes the muscle inside you. You cry out again and you grip his hair even tighter as your orgasm begins to close in on you. You feel yourself surging higher and higher, your thighs pushing tight around his head, until suddenly you are at the peak, feeling the most sublime pleasure as you gush on his tongue.

Din slows his movements as he lets you come down from your high, but he wants more. He’s waited so long to be here, he’s going to take his time until you’re begging him to stop. He lifts his mouth from you so that he can suck two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly.

“Is that really the first time you’ve done that?” You’ve regained enough composure to ask him.

“Yes,” he says, chuckling.

“If you get any better, you might kill me,” you tell him still sounding rather breathless.

“Well my darling, I’m not stopping yet,” Din replies as he pushes one long finger into you and drops his head back down to tongue your clit again. The high-pitched cry you let out makes him smile against you and he sees what he can do to hear it a second time. He can feel you flutter around his finger and he can’t believe how tight you are. He knows it’ll be easier for you to take his cock if he can make you come a couple more times on his fingers first. He slowly adds his second finger to you before he starts pumping them into you at a steady pace while licking and sucking your clit the entire time. He just barely crooks his fingers upward to brush the top of your walls when you’re coming apart again, shuddering so hard you almost buck him off you.

“Ahhh! Din, how’re you doing th-at, fe-feels so go-od,” you try your best to praise him but you can barely get the words out.

“Does it, cyar’ika? Does it feel good what I’m doing to you?” Din asks as he keeps his fingers working within your body. You clench around him hard.

“Talk to me,” you pant out, “like it so much.”

“You want me to talk to you, tell you how wonderful you feel around my fingers, how hot and wet you are?” Din replies and all you can do is moan in response.

“Mmm, you came so nice and hard for me before, gripped me so well, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, going to feel fucking amazing.” The more Din talks dirty to you the more you cry out and thrust your hips against him.

“You really like this, don’t you, my fingers stretching you out, getting you nice and ready for me,” Din’s voice is so deep that the tone is doing just as much to pleasure you as his words do. “Tell you what, I’m going to keep this up and I’m going to suck on that beautiful little clit of yours until you come again for me.” And with that, his mouth returns to his favorite spot.

All you can do is cry out his name as the pleasure burns through your body. It’s so strong that you feel tears welling up in your eyes and you’re shaking all over from the sheer delight of his actions. It feels as if you are being tossed on a sea of pleasure, rising and falling with each wave, until finally you reach the largest wave of them all and it crashes over you. You lay there boneless and panting until Din finally stops and kisses his way back up your body before finally lying down next to you.

When you finally feel your breathing calm, you reach for him and bring him into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. He moans his approval and rolls over on top of you.

“Wait,” you say breaking the kiss, “Don’t you want me to touch you? I’d love to taste you too.”

“I’d like that, cyar’ika, but some other time,” Din says, “Right now, I need to be inside you.”

In response, you widen your legs for him and draw them up to frame his hips, “I want that too, Din.”

“Tell me again, please,” he says as you feel his cock glide over your folds spreading your wetness all over him.

“I want you, Din, I need to feel you inside me, I need you to make love to me,” you tell him, your voice full of emotion.

“Oh, ner cyar’ika,” Din says before he kisses you and begins to push into your narrow passage. Even with as wet and ready as you are for him, he wants to go slowly both so he can be sure not to hurt you and so that he can enjoy every moment of this first time.

You gasp into his mouth as he gradually stretches you open; you saw how big he is, but feeling him now, he seems enormous, but the sensation is amazing. He’s unhurried as he lets your body adjust to him and you feel nothing but pleasure as he continues to push forward. You know he’s been delaying his own pleasure this entire time that he’s been devoted to you and you marvel at his control now. Finally, he is completely sheathed within you and he breaks the kiss so he can let out a moan. He drops his forehead to yours and just stays there without moving. You let your inner muscles flutter around him as you enjoy the feel of him deep within you. He moans again.

“You little minx, do it again,” he says before kissing you anew. So you do, you tighten and release him almost like you’re trying to pull him deeper inside of you. You do it again and again until finally he starts to withdraw from you to begin thrusting. Din continues to move at a languid pace, allowing you to feel every delicious inch of him as he brushes your walls. Every time he reaches the deepest point inside you, you clench around him as tight as you can, in a vain effort to keep him there.

“Din, you’re so good, I love the way you feel,” you tell him.

“You’re perfect, cyar’ika, you’re so tight and hot and perfect,” he says and he starts to roll his hips into yours so that he strokes firmly on the most pleasurable part inside you as he pulls out. It makes you cry out his name.

“I love the way you say my name, my wonderful girl,” Din praises you and you wish you could compliment him back but he’s making you forget how to speak it’s so good, and all you can do is repeat his name.

Din reaches down to shift your legs higher on his hips and it changes your position so that he can thrust even deeper into you. He feels you lock your legs around his narrow waist and he adores it. He feels so close to you; it’s the most intimate sex has ever been for him. He wants to tell you how great it is but all he can get out are a string of random words of praise. He knows he’s getting close, but he wants you to come one more time before he does. He slides his hand between the two of you so he can reach your clit and he circles it roughly as he begins to piston into you at a fast pace.

“Yes, Din, yes, right there, don’t stop!” you call out to him. His hips are rocketing against yours now and you know you’re almost to another climax. You feel your thighs start to quake with your release and you know it will be a strong one.

“Please, please cyar’ika, come for me,” Din begs you and his voice urging you on is what you needed. You feel yourself explode and everything feels white hot as you clench hard around him. Din thrusts twice more before his own orgasm overtakes him and he spills himself deep within you, his cock pulsing. He shudders above you and his arms give out, making him sink his full weight into you. It feels wonderful and you wrap your arms around him to hold him tight.

When you can breathe again, you tell him, “Din, that was so amazing, I don’t even have the words, just incredible.”

“For me too,” he pants out as he is still catching his breath. You let him relax as you run your hands over his back gently. Eventually though, he picks up his head and kisses you so sweetly.

“I had no idea that anything could ever feel this wonderful,” Din tells you, and he kisses you again before rolling to the side and snuggling next to you with his head nestled in the crook of your neck and his hand resting on your stomach.

“So did I live up to the reputation you gave me as a lover?” Din asks, his voice flirty and teasing.

“Oh, you surpassed it,” you reply, “You are even better than the sex god, I described.”

“Ah, sex god, I like it,” he laughs, “Feel free to call me that any time.”

“Should I tell, Sigrid, to announce you as such tomorrow?” you laugh with him.

“Absolutely, may I present to you her Royal Highness and her Sex God.” He’s still chuckling and shaking the bed with his laughter. He calms down for a moment and he lets his hand trace lazy circles on your stomach before it comes to rest just below your belly button.

“So?” Din drawls, “Do you think you were blessed by Astrid?”

“I think modern science may have thwarted her in that,” you respond with a giggle.

“Hmm, maybe I should try again?” Din replies as he turns you to face him and pulls your leg over his hip. You’re surprised to feel that he’s already hard again as he grinds himself against you.

“I suppose you should,” you tell him encouragingly and you find his lips again in an adoring kiss.

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

Thank you again so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Go to Chapter 7: The Mando Games

Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @imthemandalornow @overtly-cuteashell

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heuristicallyinclined · 3 years

Text

Of Disks Lost and Cullings Interrupted

5.1k | Rating T for referenced gore and language

Summary: An unfortunate encounter somehow manages to not go quite as bad as it should have.

This is one of the self-indulgent drabbles I wrote last year for me and @theartisticapparition’s fantrolls meeting for the first time and how much of an absolute mess it would be. Enjoy.

It has three fucking months since you ordered that hexagonal disk and you still don't have a shipping notification for it.

You stare at the screen of your palm husk. It’s a single point of brightness in the store room you slipped off to while some other ship was docking. For supplies or inspection, you don’t know and you don’t care. All you care about it the fact that no one is going to notice a single rusty slipping away for all of two minutes to fuck around on a personal device and see if maybe something went to spam. Which you are looking at now. And apparently set to delete messages after thirty nights, so if it did go to spam, it was long gone now.

“Sh!t,” you quietly exhale.

It’s objectively not even a good movie, just something dumb and cheesy that you can use to break up an evening. But it's no longer even about that. You just want the garbage that you ordered because you fucking ordered it and paid for it using some of your very limited funds. Grunt work means grunt pay and you have to at least be olive to even be allowed to complain in the first place, so your bronze ass just isn't going to cut it.

It doesn't make sense for you to not have gotten anything. Like at least a, "sorry king, your package is delayed," thing should have happened. You work in this shit, you receive and ship and log and deliver until your pan feels numb and it’s just your body moving through the motions. You have been mentally trying to work out how to even fuck up bad enough that this kind of delay would even happen because even for a rusty, who expects very little, this is still a bit much. You’re drawing a complete blank.

The movement of a shadow catches your eye, snapping you out of your thoughts. It slowly shortens from its exaggerated length to a more proportional one as the figure draws closer, straight towards you. You don’t recognize the silhouette’s lean frame, horns or hair which seemingly fanned out to symmetrical points. You definitely didn’t hear them enter or move through the storage bay.

Swallowing, you turn.

You see his color before you notice anything else about him. Your blood runs cold as you immediately straighten to attention.

Violet.

Seeing sea dwellers through screens and on posters did not prepare you for the real thing. You had never seen one in person before and definitely had never had one slowly making his way closer to you. Everything about him was sharp. His fins, his claws, his teeth, they all came to a clearly defined point. His grin was especially sharp. Almost sharp enough to distract you from whatever the hell his spear thingy that he casually held over his shoulder like it weighed nothing was.

“S!r.” You address him, bowing your head slightly. “!s there anyth!ng ! can do for you?”

His smile widens when you acknowledge him. His golden bracelets jingle lightly against each other as he brings a hand to his chin, seeming to genuinely consider your question.

Oh goddamn it. This is going to take longer than two minutes.

“) is there anyfin you can do for me? (,” he repeats coolly. He pensively looks off to the side as he continues to move towards you. ") oh I don't know. i just wanted to sea what was back here ("

He walks just behind you and you stiffen. You can feel his eyes lingering on you.

"!t's mostly crates here s!r. Noth!ng too !nterest!ng"

Faster than you can register it, the hand not gripping his weapon quickly grabs your shoulder, turning you to face him. The points of his manicured claws dig into you. You keep your balance as best you can, but stumble a bit.

”) now, now. you're here too (,” he smiles at you cloyingly.

And just like that, he corrects your stance, getting way too into your personal space in the process. His grin remains shallow and doesn’t meet his eyes. It just isn't warm enough to distract from how cold his touch leaves you and in that moment, you have a realization.

So, you’re probably fucked.

He holds you for longer than is comfortable in what you’re guessing is a touchy little power play, before continuing to move past you, looking up and down the racks that surrounded you two. They were nearly as high as the ceilings and he was doing a pretty decent job of acting like he actually gives a shit about what's on the shelves. He moves by each of them methodically, occasionally picking something up like he was shopping before putting each back neatly into its place.

At least the crew coming in after to replace you isn’t going to have to reorganize anything after washing you off of the walls.

He keeps going and you know he doesn’t genuinely care about whatever soaps and meal packets are back here. You don’t either, not really. He isn't even going through the whole store room, just the area around you. It is almost like he i-.

Oh.

He’s circling you.

Is this a fish joke? You feel like this is a fish joke he’s making for himself. Or is he just adding another layer to his touchy murder dude bit?

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts before you can really try to work out what his angle on this is. You really hope he didn’t notice you starting to zone out there for a bit.

“) it all just seems rather dull (,” he draws listlessly.

“Wh!ch part?”

He glances back at you. His smile begins to falter.

“Wh!ch part s!r?” You correct quickly.

He chuckles and turns his body to face you.

“) the whole thing (” He gestures away from himself, at your general surroundings. “) i mean here you are, trapped on a run down ship, doing menial tasks for the rest of your unfortunate life. truly, i don’t know how you can stand to be here. i mean, I’d rather die than work in a place like this (,” he looks at you intensely, his pupils seemed much more narrow now that they were completely focused on you. “) what about you? (”

Ah. Yeah. You see what he did there, but he isn’t exactly providing you with any revelations about your life and you don’t exactly think boredom is what’s going to cull you.

“! see !t more l!ke a flavor d!sk.”

Your response stops him and he looks at you strangely.

“Even when !ts bad !ts good," you elaborate.

His gaze becomes harsher for a moment, and then it’s gone.

“) that is a rather crude way of looking at it, i seappose(.”

Alright. No mentally stable person seriously uses the word “suppose” out loud. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to beef it. The spear thing would be involved. It would be really fucking weird if he carried it here just to not use it, but he seems extra enough that you would not put him bringing a long a prop past him.

He notices you looking at it and smirks at you.

") so (,” he recovers and ambles towards you, focusing his full attention on you again. His weapon no longer was resting against his shoulder. He held it against the ground and casually leaned against it like it wasn’t one of the most threatening tools of questionable identity and mass murder you had ever seen. “) what are you doing back here with all of these very uninteresting crates? (”

“! just thought ! forgot someth!ng !n here and stopped by to check. S!r”

“) without telling anyone? (”

“Yes, s!r.”

He chuckles, all too pleased, “) whale, that was a poor decision on your part. there is just so much here that if anything happened to you (,” he lowers his voice, like he was graciously letting you in on a joke, “) who knows how long it would take anyone to find out (.”

A beat of silences passes. You swallow, You know he feels the tension. He looks too excited not to.

“!, uh, maybe should have told someone ! where ! was go!ng !n case someth!ng happened.”

“) i agree (.” He straightens and picks up his weapon, spinning it with ease before he points it at you and slowly starts to bring the to your neck. “) unfortunately for you (,” he starts, “) no one knows you're here (.”

Even as you move your arms, he makes no move to stop you. He grins wider, more manic, looking excited at the idea of you actually trying to fight back.

Ha.

Sucks to be him because there is no fucking way that the last thing you do before you get culled is putting in some more effort to make this more enjoyable for the extra dude culling you.

Because if this guy's going to cull you, you're at least going to be the one making a request and try to have some fun here while you can. Because what is he going to do about it? You’re getting culled anyways, might as well, right?

The ridiculousness of it all makes you grin as you shrug at him. "Well, sh!t. Alr!ght."

This acceptance gives him pause as he tilts his head slightly, considering you. A crease forms between his brows and he tightens his grip on his weapon. ") w-"

You cut him off. You’re going to die so you think you get to be rude. Him being mad about it won’t really be your problem for long anyways.

"Can ! d!e !n a cool way though?"

") i-" he starts to lower his weapon, which you now think is a harpoon. Maybe? You don't know man. You don’t know anything about fish shit and you’re understanding less by the second.

You continue looking at him with the same resigned optimism that carried you through most of the bullshit you did. It got you this far. Which, granted, is probably getting culled by a bored sea dweller, but there are probably worse ways to go.

") wait (,” he says.

"Yeah?"

It isn't exactly like you're going anywhere. You know what to do with fear, being a rusty, you learn that shit real quick. But the look he is giving you now just makes you uncomfortable.

"What's up my guy?"

") aren't you going to fight back or somefin? ("

"Uh." You glance around the room full of mostly crates and his eyes follow yours as you search before you focus back on him, confused. "L!ke w!th a weapon?"

") yes? (" His smile tightens, seeming incredulous that you even asked.

"Why would anyone g!ve me a weapon? ! mean, there m!ght be a broom somewhere. Actually wa!t, ! th!nk that got broken last w!pe. !t wasn't even me th!s t!me," you add with a side smile.

He doesn't seem to know how to respond. Neither do you, so you do what you normally do when you don't know how to react.

You keep talking.

"! did troll karate for a l!ttle b!t when ! was f!ve, but !t was k!nda lame so ! stopped going. Does that uh,” you hazard, “w!ll that work for th!s?"

") no (." He narrows his eyes at you. ") plus, I know fish judo(."

Your jaw drops.

"What the fuck. F!sh judo !s real?"

") of course fish judo is reel (." He quickly spits, looking offended by your ignorance. ") do land dwellers just think that you can fight the same way underwater? ("

"! mean !'ve l!terally never thought about !t."

") i'm not surfrised ( ."

"Okay, but ! feel l!ke !f a land dweller !s !n a pos!t!on where they need to know f!sh judo, !t means they're going to lose at f!sh judo."

") i mean, i guess? (," he replies, baffled before quickly refocusing on you again. His sharp thing is pointed back at your throat as he slips back into his previous cool demeanor.

“) you do reelize the danger you’re in right? (”

Your eyes dart down to his weapon and then at him, now being the one confused.

“Um, yeah?”

Was the whole mood he had going on not an intentional thing on his part?

He stares at you. So you go on, listing things on your fingers as you go, trying not to focus on his questionable object with definite pointiness.

“So you got the whole class!c stalk and lurk th!ng so you could follow me somewhere ! would be alone where no one can hear me scream. !t’s pretty standard,” you emphasize.

You can’t read his expression.

“There was the whole slow dramat!c enter, nefar!ous d!alogue, and, uh," you glance down, "harpoon?”

“) harpoon (,” he repeats.

“That’s what ! thought !t was, but ! felt !t would be we!rd to ask.”

His mouth opens slightly and his fins flare out more, now openly seething.

“) do you know what i could do to you? ("

A lull drags on.

"Et!vor."

") what (."

"My name !s Et!vor." You continue, "! thought you were draw!ng out the you th!ng because !t's l!ke. We are a good b!t into th!s whole th!ng and !t's kinda awkward to ask for names now, so ! am just, you know, putt!ng !t out there."

He blinks. "I don't give a fuck about your name Etivor."

He still used it though.

Taking a very deep breath, he resumes. “) i am going to take immense pleasure in cutting your tongue out and slowly flaying you alive (”

He moves closer to you, slowly, predatory, circling you again. One of his icy hands brushes by your arm in a mockery of comfort as he continues to muse more to himself than you.

“) maybe I’ll slice off each of your joints, starting at the ends and slowly work my way to eventually gutting you. perhaps I’ll simply behead you. although, i think you’ve said enough to have earned far worse, don’t you think? (”

His face being this close to you is definitely starting to put you on edge more than what he is saying. But what’s really bothering you most of all is that one of those sounds a bit too familiar.

“Wa!t. That second on-”

“) you don’t get to fucking choose which one,” he hisses at you as his claws start to dig in to you.

“! wasn’t done. Damn.”

You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t just stabbed you from sheer frustration. It’s kinda funny. It would be way more funny if he wasn't going to cull you though, but you’ll take what you can get.

“!sn’t that second one from that one comedy with troll Tob!hn Bhelle?”

“) you’ve sean that? (” He raises his brows. “) no. i added a little twist with the gutting at the end instead of letting them bleed out (.” Almost hesitantly he asks, “) did you like it? because i thought they were trying too hard where they ha-.”

He catches himself and raises his weapon at you again, “) STOP. This is NOT what is taking place right now (.”

You narrow your eyes. He's the one who kept talking.

“Then !t !s from that mov!e. You can’t just say, no !t’s not and then be l!ke,” you motion with your hands, “but w!th a tw!st! You l!fted !t.”

He bemusedly stares at you.

“) are you purposefully trying to infuriate me? was your egg dropped? do you not understand what happens when you piss off royalty? (” He snidely adds, “) i am going to get so much satisfaction out of flaying you (.”

He is literally the one holding the weapon, and holding you hostage, and also did physically hold you a few times. What the fuck does he think you’re trying to get out of this?

“! have never purposefully done anyth!ng !n my ent!re l!fe dude. ! am not about to start mak!ng an effort just when !’m about to get culled,” you respond, surprisingly defensively.

Wait, this has gotten off of the fucking rails and you don’t know where you guys actually stand.

“You are going to cull me r!ght?”

“) well, uh. yeah (.” He’s tense and glances around the room, taken off guard by your question.

"Cool." You nod at him. Worth a try you guess.

His harpoon is less looking like a weapon to be used against you and more like a barrier to keep you away from him. Silence again draws on and he stares at you expectantly. You glance around. His frown gets deeper and he looks more frustrated as time goes on. You have no idea what he is waiting for.

You never thought being culled would be this fucking awkward. Guess the torture’s already started.

") aren't you going to plead for your life? (" he demands, bringing his harpoon closer as he does so.

You’ve never been great on the spot. You try to muster something decent up.

“Uh, don’t cull me?” You said it as lamely as you felt.

He looks at you blankly. “) are you getting off on this? (”

“Dude. No. Gross.” Your face twists. “!t’s just like. !’ve never pleaded for my l!fe before. !t !sn’t sh!t you really get to pract!ce and ! feel l!ke !t won’t actually matter since !’m getting culled anyways. So. Yeah.” You slowly nod to yourself before looking up at him.

He is still waiting. Goddamn it. You sigh.

“No. Please don’t cull me. !’ll do anyth!ng.”

While that covers all your bases, it came out a lot drier than you thought but you’re too over this shit to feel any kind of way about it.

"!s there any chance plead!ng would even work?"

His disappointment was broken by a sharp laugh, ") of course not (."

“Then what do you even want from me?” you ask, getting kinda exasperated at his apparent high standards and prereqs for the randos he culls. Like it is one thing to play some kind of sadistic game with your prey, that’s normal, whatever, but it is a whole other thing to get weird about them not being good at it.

"Why ask unless y-. Oh." Your face falls as you get bitch slapped with the realization of what is really happening here. "Oh fuck."

You step back.

Your fear has apparently slam dunked him right back in his comfort zone because his grin is back full throttle and wider and sharper than ever like he was making up for lost time. ") you finally understand the weight of the seatuation you're in? ("

He slinks towards you and you feel the edge of the blade graze your neck.

"Yep," avoid his gaze and swallow.

You were going to get culled in the weirdest way possible.

“) and what is that? (,” he asks lowly, getting right the fuck back into your personal space. His smile almost splits his face and you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Th!s !s l!ke. A th!ng. W!th you."

He lowers his harpoon again, looking completely done. “) what the fuck is THAT supposed to mean? (” You half expect him to throw it across the room or through your torso.

You can’t stop yourself from speaking now that you're actually nervous and stressed and he is yelling and also way too close to your person and his harpoon isn’t doing either of you any favors.

“You had the whole k!nda fl!rty touchy th!ng going on and then you got really p!ssy when ! d!dn’t f!ght back. And you also got super d!sappo!nted w!th my sh!tty plead!ng l!ke you were really look!ng forward to !t or someth!ng.”

“) i’m disappointed because this is the least satisfying cull of my life! (,” he hisses.

You visibly cringe at the word “satisfying” and take another step back from him. There is some fear there but mostly you’re just really fucking uncomfortable. Troll Jesus Christ this dude is into some shit and you are not playing into it.

He also takes a step back too, now into a defensive stance. ") what? it doesn't look like that! ("

You suck in air in through your teeth and are looking anywhere but at him as you reply, "!t k!nda looks l!ke that."

") oh my cod ("

He just slumps down, his harpoon clattering in front of him. His mouth is in a straight line and his head rests between his hands. You stand there, unsure for a moment, before slowly lowering yourself a decent distance away from him. You honestly thought that getting culled would be less uncomfortable than it was being here while he has whatever the fuck it is he has going on going on or at least uncomfortable in a different way.

You continue trying to avoid looking at him. It’s kinda expected that a highblood was going to cull you at some point. That was just how it tended to go for rusties, but you could not have guessed this, and now just kinda want to get this whole getting murdered thing over with.

You try to give him a moment, glancing around the room, mentally taking inventory of everything there twice. The awkward silence is weighty and the longer it stretches on, the worse you are feeling about this whole fucking ordeal.

“Would cull!ng me help you uh, not be l!ke th!s?”

He gives you a dirty look.

You sigh, "!t's not l!ke anyone gets to th!nk that for long, !f !t helps.”

“) if it helps? ( ” He spat each word, getting louder as he went on. He whipped his head at you, indignantly, “) this is your fault! ("

"What?"

") getting culled is so fucking basic. how did you fuck that up? ("

You stare at him, trying to figure out how the fuck to even respond.

Slowly, in what might be one of the last things you do in your existence, you serve this royal what you are assuming is the stalest tea of his life in the form of the lukewarm take, “you know, be!ng bad at dy!ng !s a good th!ng actually.”

These are real words. These are real words that you are saying to the guy who was leaning way too hard into the thirsty part of bloodthirsty.

You continue. "L!ke you don’t get to pract!ce th!s. ! mean, do ! look l!ke someone who has been culled before? Because ! haven’t. Have you?" You add.

He looks like he is about to have a conniption or the sea dweller equivalent. Can sea dwellers have conniptions? Because this guy is about to have a big one.

") you did not just seariously just ask me if i've ever been culled before. that is the dumbest question anyone has ever asked me! (," he practically shrieks.

"Well you're acting like ! should just know th!s sh!t. We have the exact same amount of exper!ence gett!ng culled!"

“) whale i’ve never encountered any TROLL who is so miserable that they just accept getting culled from the fucking get go (.”

“!’m not m!serable! !’m real!st!c! ! don’t have a weapon, ! can’t fight for sh!t, f!sh judo !s apparently fuck!ng real, and plead!ng does noth!ng. !’m gonna end up at the same place no matter what ! do so why drag !t out? L!ke, come on.”

You slump against the wall, exhausted from this whole interaction. “!t wasn’t great, but ! don’t see much of a po!nt !n gett!ng so worked up about sh!t ! can’t control. ! just wanted to go out !n a cool way s!nce noth!ng ever fuck!ng happens here. The reason ! was even back here !n the f!rst place was to see !f ! had an update on a stup!d hexagonal d!sk ! ordered three months ago. But that sh!t !s apparently !n the vo!d," you gripe.

You pull out your palm husk and check again. Jack shit. You groan.

You’re surprised to hear him chuckle.

“) sucks to be you (.”

“Yeah." You shake your head. "And then a few seconds after ! found out, some guy showed up to cull me.”

He actually laughs. This is so fucking ridiculous so maybe that’s why you are too.

“) it’s a lot more fun to be doing the culling (.” He eyes you again and you don’t want to crawl out of your flesh this time, and you feel like that’s a real development here. “) you seam like you’d lose a fight (.”

An accurate assessment.

“Yeah. Troll karate didn’t do sh!t for me.” A beat passes. “Drones actually burnt !t down l!ke two w!pes after ! qu!t.”

He snickers and a moment passes.

“) one month for a disk? that is fucking bullshit (.”

“Three.”

“) fuck (," he raises his brows. Moderate inconvenience seems to repulse him more than anything you've said tonight. ") that sucks, i get my shit next night with cullazon prime (.”

"N!ce. !'d probably try that if ! had more than twenty seven whole caegars."

Broke bitch disorder also seems to do it for him in the humor department and the two of you continue chilling in silence. Less uncomfortable this time. You almost feel bad for thinking he was a sadistic creep.

He breaks the silence. “) give me your palm husk (."

“What?”

“) i don’t repeat myself (," he replies tersely, holding his hand out to you.

What the hell.

You type your code in and pass it to him. He glances at the massive crack on the center of your screen with disgust. He looks at you and shakes his head before he starts typing.

He didn't ask, but still, you answer. “! cracked !t do!ng a k!ckfl!p on a doll!e.”

He doesn't look up. ") you can't do a kickflip on a dollie (."

"Not w!thout a cost."

He spares you a side glance. ") why the fuck would you even do that? ("

"Because !t !s bor!ng as sh!t out here and there !s much better to do !n the ma!lblock."

He hums noncommittally.

"Were you just spaced?"

") and what if I was?(," he asks, a touch defensive.

"Noth!ng. ! was just wonder!ng !f !t sucks th!s bad at your level too?"

") of course not (," he snaps. ") do you genuinely believe anyone could be doing worse than you? ("

"Well yeah." You tap your sign. "But not by much."

He huffs and rolls his eyes before he looks out for a moment.

") i'm abshellutely krilling it out here (,” he states resolutely before continuing, “) but taking orders is a reel pain (.”

He sullenly joins you in leaning back against the wall.

Damn, This might just be the first time he's ever had anyone above him. Well, above him and specifically giving him orders you mean, judging by the way he is basically pouting over it. Everyone loses agency when they ascend. Guess it just sucks more when you have more to lose, not that you’d really know.

"!t doesn’t get better, but you do get used to !t," you say, not looking at him.

He glances at you, frowning deeper before exhaling.

You keep not looking at him when you ask, "So. Are you go!ng to cull me?"

") no. there is no salvaging that. you completely ruined it (." He replies bitterly while returning your palm husk.

The cullazon app has been downloaded and opened to an account page. You raise an eyebrow at him.

He announces, “) okay etivor, i shared my cullazon prime with you. you’re still going to be a sorry excuse for a troll, but you might get enough out of it that culling you acshelly becomes entertaining (.”

This is a joke. This has to be a joke.

“Thanks, but there !s l!terally no way for me to pay you back for anyth!ng ! buy on th!s.”

“) do i look like i need your fucking charity? (” he sneers.

He is actually serious about this. He looks too pissed not to be.

“Nope, you’re way too bl!nged out for that,” you grin. This dude is wild. “What’s your number?”

He looks at you suspiciously.

“!s th!s really where you’re gonna draw the l!ne? You gave me access to your Cullazon, but won’t g!ve me your number? Ser!ously?”

He doesn’t ask this time. He just swipes it out of your hands.

“) i am ievahn mordax, probably the best thing that has and will ever grace your miserable fucking life and i will brutally cull you if you mention any of this ever happened to anyone (.”

He hands it back, but still holds onto it. “) i’ve made myself clear? (”

“Yeah,” you nod and he finally lets go. This is way better than a shipping notification.

Oh.

You check the time.

"Fuck!" You leap to your feet and he quickly grabs his harpoon.

") what? (" he shouts.

"! was supposed to be here for l!ke a m!nute to check on the d!sk." You look at your palm husk again. It has been way more than a minute and you have the feeling someone definitely noticed by now. You completely forgot about having some work work to do considering you thought you were going to die. "Sh!t." You look at him again. "Do you have anywhere to be?"

") what? (" He squints.

“! mean you just had some free t!me and you seem bored and apparently don’t believe ! can do a k!ckfl!p on a doll!e. ! have to defend my good name. You get !t.”

“) what good name? (” he snickers. “) and if i did, why the fuck would i want to spend anymore time with you? (”

“Because you can’t make fun of my Cullazon orders !f my boss culls me for tard!ness. You be!ng around means she can’t say sh!t.”

He seems to consider, “) a compelling argument. and i do get to watch you maim yourself in the dumbest way possible which is a definite bonus (.”

You grin as you start walking. “Or have your pan be blown when you see what trollk!nd can really do when there is l!terally noth!ng else to do. !’m push!ng l!m!ts here !evahn.”

“) you’re pushing your luck (.” He leans his harpoon against himself as he follows.

“Maybe.” Quickly, you face him and add. “But ser!ously, be cool. !f my boss f!nds out about any of th!s, she w!ll absolutely cull me.”

“) she can’t cull you (,” he huffs. “) i already called dibs on that (.”

You grin returns.

“Damn. !’ll let her know.”

#Homestuck #Hiveswap #Fantrolls #Ievahn Mordax #Etivor Petris #My writing #Do you ever just get someone thrown so off guard and uncomfortable that they don't cull you?#Ievahn has his whole villain persona up and Eti's generic lowblood one goes out the window when he feels there's not much to lose #It just goes so off the rails that there isn't really much of a social script to stick to or much familiar territory here #Basically an unstoppable force meets an extremely strange object #Anyways they chill out over time and form a weird friendship to moiraillegence because they're a similar kind of stupid #They just happen to be on opposite ends of the spectrum

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z3llous · 3 years

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Lost in the City

[ Sep 05, 2020 ]

Sanji x reader

Click . Click. Click. One foot after the other. Their shoes had hit the pavement in rapid succession. Around a corner, over a fence, up a building, and on the roof they went. His form trailed behind them in haste.

Why? They didn't ask for this. Of all the people, why him? Just make it disappear. His existence haunted the deepest depths of their mind, blood pumping alarmingly fast at the sound of his laugh. They wished it would all just wash away.

He just wouldn't give up. Down the building and onto the sidewalk they dropped. As they began to run passed the sewing shop an idea crossed their mind.

"Pervert! He's following me! Help!" y/n yelled loudly in hopes of gaining the attention of some old friends.

Success. The older ladies of the shop raced out to help. They wouldn't let any harm come to their young friend.

---

It had started out as a small crush, easy to ignore. He never fawned over them, barely even looked their way. It was so simple to avoid those miniscule feelings. Keyword being "was".

Y/n was the Straw hat's artist. Their personal art was kept away from prying eyes. Until, he came along.

Early morning sun drifted over the quiet kitchen as their pencil shamelessly danced across paper, one stroke to the right, then a curve to the left. Vaguely aware of his presence, their attention was absorbed in their work.

Unknown to them Sanji had stopped prepping breakfast and was softly approaching. He leaned over their shoulder to see a masterpiece in the making. His hair caressed their ear. Y/n slowed down as realization had seeped in.

"The wispy lines make it look delicate, red ribbons add a nice pop of color, and the soft colorful shading really pulls it all together. It's probably your best work yet." Sanji said examining their work. His breath gently brushed a strand of y/n's hair.

"Thanks." y/n answered as calmly as possible, refusing to show how flustered they were.

Sanji strode away at an even pace, unknowing of y/n's lingering gaze.

How dare he....

Y/n's face grew slightly warmer as they tried desperately to focus on the drawing.

---

Y/n slowed their speed enough to amusingly glance back at his suffering.

That broom has got to hurt

Hastily y/n took a left turn, rushing toward the bridge.

When they arrived here the crew was surprised to find that it was y/n's home Island.

Y/n wanted to take a small break from the crew and stay there for a month to study under a master artist. Luffy agreed, but decided to make a game out of it.

If y/n could avoid being touched by Sanji for a whole hour they could leave to study for a month.

Then why was Sanji, so determined? Well, they didn't mention it was only for a month.

Dust and dirt coated his shirt, hair disheveled, and yet his will untouched. He arose from the pavement. Left turn and to the bridge he ran. Y/n was a third of the way across.

---

Slash after slash. He couldn't get close enough to land a decent kick. He'd gotten himself into a fight with a skilled distant to mid range fighter.

Warm crimson dripped down as he panted leaning against a wall. He dropped to the floor desperately to avoid another shot. Failure. Yet another hit had landed. Aggressively the air was stolen from his lungs. His vision grew blurry and sound distant. He'd lost. A gun pointed to his head, it was over.

Blood splattered. Metal hit stone. A knife had embedded itself into the hand of the enemy. A familiar figure rushed in, blade in hand. The deed was done, and the body hit the floor.

"Sanji! Stay awake. I'll get Chopper. Everything will be alright." The shadowy figure said in an echoey voice before quickly disappearing from his sight.

He vision faded as a brown furry blob ran up to him.

Everything hurt. A light peaked in through the window blinding him. He turned his head to avoid the bright nuisance. The door creaked open and the little doctor walked in.

"Don't move around too much, you almost died. If you need anything or help going somewhere just ask." Chopper said as he checked for any reopened wounds.

"What happened? I know I lost." Sanji replied in a stained voice staring at the ceiling.

"Y/n was nearby and took him out. I was too weak after my fight to lift you, so they carried you too. Everyone else is busy and I'm still feeling weak, so y/n will be checking in on you." chopped answered before walking out of the room.

I need to thank them.

A knock came from the door.

"Come in." He said as clearly as he could muster.

Y/n walked in.

"Feelin alright? Need anything?" Y/n asked sitting down in the chair next to the bed.

"I'm doing pretty well for someone who almost died." He joked. "I could really use some water, if you don't mind." He added shortly after.

"Alright."

Y/n left for a moment and came back with a glass of water. His arms weren't in the best condition so y/n had to help him hold the glass.

Water dripped down his chin. Y/n carefully set the glass down. They leaned in and gently dabbed him dry with their sleeve.

Sanji's eye widened slightly and his view drifted to the floor.

"Thank you, for everything. I'd be dead if you hadn't stepped in..." He said quietly voice trailing off. His eye refused to meet theirs and remained glued to the floorboards below.

"It's not a problem." They said smiling. Their gaze traveled to his disheveled hair.

"Your hair is a bit messy. Do you mind if I tidy it up a bit?" Y/n asked finally gaining the attention of his avoidant gaze.

"N-No, go ahead." He said embarrassment filling him at the thought of how much of wreck he probably looked like.

Y/n left for a moment returning with a brush. Soft bristles stroked his hair. The brushing slowed wherever it got caught in a knot. They gently untangled his messy golden locks.

Warmth filled him and his heart fluttered at their whisper of a touch.

I might not have seen it clearly, but damn they looked so badass saving me back there.

---

He caught up to y/n quickly. They dodged his hand for the fifth time that day, sidestepping and shoving a large metal cart off the bridge.

They crossed the bridge as adrenaline slipped away. A lack of footsteps behind caused them to slow to a stop. He wasn't there.

Eyes traveled below to see a soggy Sanji washed ashore with the metal cart pinning him at the waist in such a way that he shouldn't be able get up. Guilt drifted in and so they made their way down.

Rough rocks crunch under their shoes as they cautiously walk up to him. Y/n squatted down to examine him better.

Slowly his head lifts to see them. The dust and dirt had washed away and in return a small scratch on his cheek filled its place. His arm outstretched to touch them, they were but an inch too far. It was clear that he was stuck.

Knowing their win was only a minute away y/n sat down before him. Bitter ticking drifted to his ears as they pulled out a pocket watch.

He couldn't win.

A coldness crawled through him and his heart cried for it to be a lie.

"Y/n, please don't go. Please..." His voice cracked.

They continued to silently hold up the watch and stare off into the distance as time slowly slipped away from his grasp.

"Stay. Please. I can't lose you!" He cried out as he reached for them.

Tears began to slide down his face.

"Y/n, I love you! Please!" He pleaded, crying harder and reaching out for anything, his head down in despair.

Suddenly a softness made contact with his hand. Looking up, he couldn't believe his eyes. Sanji's hand was nestled into y/n's hair.

"3. 2. 1. Time is up, you win." Y/n said looking up and smiling at him from their now hunched over position.

Carefully the cart was lifted and set aside.

They pulled him up and held him close.

"It's alright, I'll stay." y/n said as Sanji clung on, his wet hair and clothes dripping all over them.

"Come on. Let's head back and get you all dried off." They said letting go.

Sanji lingered a few seconds longer before letting go.

---

The crew happily welcomed them back and the pair headed off to y/n's room to dry off.

Sanji sat on y/n's bed wearing an oversized sweater of theirs, bandage on his cheek. Y/n stood before him gently drying his hair off with a towel as he nuzzled his face into their chest. His hands gripped fistfuls of y/n's loose shirt.

"You alright?" y/n asked looking down to where his face was buried.

"I was so scared." He whispered.

Y/n tensed before wrapping their arms around him.

"I'm sorry...I was only leaving for a month." Y/n's voice escaped remorsefully as they rubbed his back.

He looked up, eyes wide.

"A month?!" He whispered loudly.

"Mmmhmm, I wasn't planning on leaving permanently...but I just couldn't leave a poor, crying, baby boy behind. Wouldn't have been able focus on studying." They said quietly pulling him in close and placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

He buried his face into their neck to avoid their gaze.

"Aww, it's ok. I don't mind staying with. My. Precious. Baby. Boy." Y/n said closely to his ear, slowing the pace to say each word separately for emphasis.

He held them tightly and refused to raise his head.

Y/n's hand slid down to lightly trace the shape of his side. He shivered beneath their touch.

"Do you like that? Would you like more, my love?" y/n said teasing him.

He nodded still not looking up at them.

"Alright then, as you wish, darling. Stop me if I go too far." y/n said with a hint of underlying mischief.

Their finger traced down his side, to his hip, across his thigh, and stopped at his knee for a moment. They began to work back before sliding under the sweater. They slowed to see if he'd stop them and when he didn't an affectionate warmth filled them. His grip tightened and they continued, sliding their hand up his back.

"Sanji, please look at me." Y/n said gently, tracing hearts on his back.

He loosened his grip to look at them. Immense heat radiated from his face and ears, eyes half lidded.

"I love you with all my heart." Y/n said leaning in and stopping a miniscule distance from his lips and looking deeply into his eyes.

He froze before closing his eyes and crossing the distance between then.

Y/n's hand slid down from his back and gripped his thigh lifting the leg up as the other hand was lost in his hair.

Y/n gently pushed Sanji onto the mattress as their kiss reached its end. They couldn't help but loving gaze down at him. He looked so adorable beneath them.

They pulled up the sweater looking repeatedly at him, to check if he was alright with it. He tugged on their sleeve dazedly. Leaning in they left a trail of soft kisses all across his collar bone, down the center of his chest, and worked back up to his neck.

Sanji leaned in to their touch and slowly slipped into a sleepy haze.

"Are you tired?" Y/n asked ceasing another trail of kisses.

Sanji nodded and wrapped his arms around the neck, pulling their face closer to him.

"Alright, you can sleep with me tonight, my precious prince."y/n said placing one last kiss on his cheek.

The couple crawled under the covers. Y/n pulled his head to their chest wrapping their arms around and tangling their legs with his.

He slipped away into a sweet slumber, engulfed in their love.

#one piece #onepiece #onepiecexreader #sanji #sanji vinsmoke #black leg sanji #blackleg sanji #kuroashi no sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #blackleg sanji x reader #sanji x y/n

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

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Irreverent Pt. 42 - Strangers

Title: Irreverent Pt. 42 - Strangers Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 9533

Irreverent Series Masterlist

There was a dull throbbing pain in your arm when you woke up the following morning - an apt reminder of the day before. Your room was cast in shadows and it was still early in the morning. The faint sound of rain could be heard outside, blanketing you with its presence. You're still laying on your side and Aaron's warm arm sits across your waist, his deep breaths gently blowing the hair at the nape of your neck.

You find yourself reaching for his hand and covering it where it lay across your stomach. You'd nearly died yesterday. Twice. You'd had a gun to the back of your head. You could barely see through the smoke. If Emily hadn't come in the nick of time, you're pretty sure he would've shot you. You hadn't had the time or space to do anything about it. You can feel your breathing get harsher as you reckon with that realization. If you'd died, Aaron - him and Jack - what about them - how would they handle it? You can feel hot tears in your eyes and the panic caused by the entire situation rising, imagining Aaron having to go home alone to Jack - having to tell him that… The thought was far too awful to bear. Funny how dying becomes scary once we have something to lose.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Aaron had felt your breathing change and then felt you tremble against him. He turns you around, noticing the tears in your eyes, and pulls you to lay on top of him. Rubbing your back soothingly, he guides you through breathing regularly, reminding you that you're safe, that you're alright.

It's working. His voice and his touch are helping. You close your eyes and focus on the beating of his heart. He continues to rub your back as your breath evens out. When you finally open your eyes to look at him, his face is one of the utmost concern and you're pretty sure you're going to start crying all over again. You really hadn't meant to worry him.

"I'm sorry," you gasp out, reaching up to touch his cheek. He leans into you as he always does. Your voice breaks as you continue, but you really need to tell him. "I'm sorry for scaring you yesterday, I'm so sorry."

"I know. I know you are." He can tell you're finally allowing yourself to deal with what happened last night. It had been all too terrifying for him to contend with. Walking away from you afterwards and directing the crew on what to do next had been an ordeal, his mind constantly on you and how you were doing. But he knew you - he trusted that you'd made the right decisions, the same decisions he would make in the situation. Prentiss had told him how you'd gone after the unsub and it wasn't any different from what any of them would have done. He couldn't truly fault you for it. When she'd told him how you'd thrown yourself on top of her however, his heart had about threatened to give out. He saw it for what it was - you doing your very best to not lose Emily again.

He helps you situate yourself back on the bed, this time facing him as you tangle your legs together and run your icy toes against his shins under his flannel pajamas, causing him to hiss. He's not sure why he's surprised, since you do this every time. He wraps himself around you, your arm slung around his stomach, as he plays with your hair because he knows it soothes you and would help you fall back asleep.

"You know I love you, right?" you ask him, your voice small and unsure, as though you're not sure if this is something you should voice. "I know I'm not the best at saying it, but I'd hate to think you didn't know that." You'd hate to die, thinking he didn't know that.

He nods, "I do." He knows you love him. He knows it's hard for you to say - that you're not used to saying it. More often than not you simply smile and kiss him when he says it to you. That doesn't mean he doesn't know. Even before he'd moved in, a subscription to the Wall Street Journal had started being delivered to your house. Jack's teachers were far more familiar with you than they were with him - the number of bake sales and booth duties you'd signed up for spoke for themselves. You hadn't given up on him yet - he knew he wasn't the easiest of partners to be with. You put up with his neurotic tendencies, you handled him when he became domineering and controlling and unyielding, you were there for him when all he needed was for someone to stay. Out of all the things you did for him and Jack, all the compromises and accommodations, that was the one thing that told him without a doubt that you loved him.

The two of you fall asleep again with his arms wrapped tight around you, your face buried into his chest and your hands bunched up tight into his shirt, unwilling to let go.

When he wakes up again, you've turned around in his arms. You can never stand to be in one position for too long and he's gotten used to you shifting every couple of hours in the night. He barely notices it anymore as you move and maneuver around him, contorting yourself to him no matter which way you decide to settle down.

He knows you're awake because you're grinding yourself into him, moving your hips against him. "Mm, don't write checks you can't cash sweetheart," he mumbles into your skin, kissing the side of your neck.

You grin. It had taken him long enough. "I'm not," you reply, continuing your movements against his growing erection. You grab his hand that's wrapped around your waist and move his hand to cup your breasts.

"You're still injured," he breathes out, stalling as if to stop your movement, though his hand instinctively squeezes your breasts, drawing a small moan from you. You were going to drive him insane.

"Then I guess you should do all the work." You turn, your lips finding his and you can feel him smile into the kiss. He's going to give in. He always does.

By the time the two of you get ready and leave your room, the rest of the team is already up. Derek gives you a knowing smirk from his spot near the window, bringing his coffee mug to his mouth right before Aaron looks at him. JJ and Spencer are at the dining table, eating the frozen waffles that Tatiana had stocked in the freezer, despite you telling them they could order anything, and both Rossi and Emily are situated on the couch, their eyes trained on the television playing the news.

You two greet everyone and JJ tells you that Penelope will be arriving soon. Her, Reid, and Derek have tickets to go catch Hamilton courtesy of your Broadway contact and you'd gotten in touch with your old friend Maeve, because you had a feeling her and Spencer would hit it off. She was joining them for the play. He'd lamented to you after the dinner party, that he was really starting to miss having someone despite never really having had someone. You could sympathize with that feeling of yearning - the kind that burrows into your bones and forces you to miss someone you don't even know yet.

Aaron watches as you go over to Emily, leaning down over the back of the couch and hugging her around her shoulders. You thank her for coming back for you yesterday and she squeezes your hand, turning to place a quick kiss to your cheek.

He hands you a coffee right as Jack calls and the two of them chat briefly before his son demands to speak with you, and you carry the phone into the bedroom, a conspiratorial smile on your face. His birthday is fast approaching and he has a feeling you and Jack have something in the works. He goes to sit by Emily and Dave, content to watch the anchor discuss the latest events in the election that is underway.

"Is she alright?" Emily asks him, her voice low so as to ensure that no one else can hear her. She had a worried look on her face as her eyes settled on the door you'd disappeared behind.

"She had a bit of a moment regarding yesterday," he reveals, looking around to make sure the rest of the team was engrossed in their individual activities. Dave was closest, however his head was bent over a notebook where he was undoubtedly documenting the latest case. "I think it was a lot and she just realized how much of a close call it was."

Emily nods understandingly. "Good. Yesterday was way too close and sometimes that fear helps us figure out what we really want. What matters."

Aaron agrees. These moments were usually a reset, coming along when he needed them most. It had happened around the time of his and Haley's divorce, when he'd nearly gotten shot and had the realization that he had a wife and young son he had to stay alive for. He'd nearly quit the team then, and while that hadn't happened for other reasons, death had a way of clarifying priorities like none other.

By the time you exit the bedroom, Penelope has arrived with dresses for both Emily and JJ. She greets you with a quick hug and thanks you for securing the Broadway tickets, before settling onto the couch with everyone else.

"This is supposed to be the best party in town all month," Penelope gushes. "I looked it up and getting on the guest list is impossible. They've got a veritable who's who of New York society. They've even got a Prince!"

"Which Prince?" JJ asks, her mouth quirked up into a smile at Penelope's obvious excitement.

"The Prince of Bulgaria."

"Oh! Markos is in town? I haven't seen him in ages!" you exclaim from your spot on Aaron's lap. Penelope had been a little surprised to see the two of you so obviously affectionate with one another, but had merely called it adorable and not made it too awkward. After last night it seemed the others were just used to it now.

"You know the Prince of Bulgaria?" Aaron asks, a slightly amused look on his face as his fingers play with the edge of the skirt you'd donned.

"Yeah, we went on a few dates to make his ex jealous," you reveal, turning slightly to look at him. "He promised me an extradition to Bulgaria, should the need ever arise."

Your explanation is met with some incredulity and laughter and the conversation goes from the party that night to the best parties of everyone's college days, meandering through the group.

Once Derek, Penelope, and Reid leave for the play, JJ declares the need for a nap and a long video chat with her boys, leaving you, Aaron, Emily, and Rossi to figure out lunch for yourselves. You leave, promising to bring something back for JJ.

Rossi's been a bit of a pain about the clubbing, claiming that he's far too old for that scene, especially once he hears that the party doesn't really get started till eleven at night. However, you promise to make it worth his while, and it might have to do with your reputation for keeping your promises or it’s the fact that you were injured yesterday and you pouted at him, that he gives in and agrees to come along without complaint.

The four of you had a leisurely lunch (you had food sent to the apartment for JJ so she wouldn't be waiting for too long) and walked through the park, talking about the upcoming holidays and everyone's plans. Aaron was onboard with your idea to take Jack to Europe for Christmas, however everyone on the team would be back in town for New Year's Eve so Rossi had decided to host at his place.

By the time you all return to the apartment, the Broadway goers were back as well, Maeve in tow. You'd been right, her and Spencer had hit it off wonderfully. They'd bonded over some obscure philosophers and were debating their work enthusiastically when you'd seen them. Maeve had to unfortunately beg off clubbing with the team for the night as she had a prior engagement, but she and Spencer exchanged numbers before she left. He got some teasing about that from Derek but overall everyone was thrilled for him. His colored face never really did return to its normal pallor the rest of the evening.

You made a large batch of coffee and encouraged everyone to drink some and take a nap, as it would be a long night ahead. This wasn't your first rodeo but it had been a while since you all had gone all night on something that wasn't a case file. You could use all the help you can get.

Everyone wanders back into the living room by the evening and you ordered dinner that would keep everyone satisfied for some time, choosing to order Thai as you knew that at some point after the club, you'd force Aaron to let you get dollar pizza even though it would upset your stomach later.

"JJ, is Henry reading on his own yet?" Penelope asks from her spot on the couch, a forkful of Pad Thai halfway to her mouth.

"Yeah, he is. Why?"

"I need to start my Christmas shopping. I figure maybe Jack and Henry might enjoy starting on the Harry Potter series if they haven't already," she explains, looking at both you and Aaron as well.

"That'd be great Pen, thanks," you tell her. Jack's started reading on his own, but either you or Aaron try to also read the books he's reading so he has someone to talk to about the story. He'd started reading the Magic Treehouse books recently and you and Aaron were switching off reading books in the series and then filling in the other person so you're both caught up on the overall plot.

"Great! It'll be fun to see which houses the kiddos want to be in," she says. Spencer agrees from beside her. You know he's been waiting for the kids to be old enough to be into the things he's into.

"As long as its not Hufflepuff," you joke, poking your tongue out at her. Penelope was a very obvious Hufflepuff.

"How very Slytherin of you," she retorts with a huff, before she looks at Aaron seated across from you and you see her eyes widen ever so slightly. "Oh! But actually Hotch would be a total Gryffindor - you two would have the Romeo and Juliet forbidden romance thing."

You laugh at that. "Nah, he'd be the hot professor I have an affair with," you joke, throwing a wink in Aaron's direction. He blushes ever so slightly and shakes his head at you, a small smile gracing his face. You're pretty sure he has no idea what the houses are - the books didn't really come out until he was an adult, by which point you doubted he'd had the time or interest. You'd just have to make sure he read them alongside Jack so he got all the references. While you'd love nothing more than to have Jack be in Slytherin too so you can gang up on Aaron, you had a feeling that in this case, it would be very much like father like son.

Everyone goes to get ready, and you're standing in your bra and underwear, going through the closet to find something to wear. Aaron walks in wearing a black shirt that he hasn't buttoned up yet, as you're sifting through the hangers, holding a dress up to your body as you look at yourself in the mirror.

"You almost ready?" he asks, glancing from the pile of rejected dresses to your dejected face reflected in the mirror.

"I think I've outgrown clubbing attire," you sigh, placing the dress to the top of the pile.

"Let me help."

Aaron moves to the other side of the closet, going through a different row of outfits while you continue on with yours and reject another few.

"What's this?" he asks, holding up a hanger with a plaid skirt and blazer.

You look at him, noting the slightly dilated pupils and how his voice had taken on the slightly deeper quality it did when it was just the two of you. Pretty sure I could get off from him just talking to me. Should try it sometime.

Smirking, you answer, "My old boarding school uniform. Should I pack that to bring back home?"

Aaron clears his throat before speaking. "That would be nice, yes." He hangs the outfit on the door to the closet so you wouldn't forget it.

That would be nice. There was something oddly endearing about the straightforwardness with which he spoke about things of this nature. You chuckle slightly, before edging towards him. "Am I going to need extra credit to pass the class, Professor Hotchner?" you ask teasingly, placing a hand to his warm chest, feeling his heart beat underneath.

Aaron rolls his eyes and huffs slightly before pecking your lips quickly. "Please. Like you'd need extra credit. You'd be the attractive grad student helping me with my research," he replies, grabbing your ass and causing you to yelp and consequently retaliate by pushing him into the wall and dragging his face down to yours.

That's what you liked about Aaron. Even for a fantasy, he wouldn't let you dumb yourself down.

*------------*

You'd managed to pick out a dress finally, and Aaron watches as you strut out of the bathroom, your hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, wearing a short emerald green dress that exposed quite a bit of leg. You'd donned tall strappy heels which he was sure you'd shed halfway through the night and insist on being carried by him. You might like feeling tall but you really hated being in heels for too long.

"So?" you ask, doing a quick twirl for his benefit.

"You look amazing," he tells you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around once more, before bringing it to his lips and sending little butterflies through your stomach. It was kind of astonishing that he could still have that effect on you with the smallest of gestures.

He keeps your hand in his as the two of you exit your room and join the others. JJ was the only one missing as she was making a final good night call to Henry and Will. You let go of Aaron to go rummage around at the bar and gathered up enough shot glasses for everyone.

"We're doing shots!" Emily exclaims, noticing what you're setting and coming around to help you.

"We're doing shots?" Derek groans, looking at you with some amount of trepidation.

"Yes, of course. We're all going clubbing together for the first time. We have to do this right," you tell him, pouring tequila into every glass and setting it on the counter. "Since when did you become an old man?"

"I promise to be extra slutty if you get me drunk enough," Penelope jokes, grabbing a glass and passing one along to both Spencer and Derek.

You pour out a shot of juice and hand that to JJ when she returns, and then quickly congregate everyone in the center of the living room, a shot of tequila in everyone else's hand.

Rossi clears his throat and raises his glass. "Here’s to cheating, stealing, and drinking. May you cheat death, steal hearts, and always drink with me."

With a resounding chorus of Here Here you raise your shot glass and tip it back quickly. Aaron has his arm wrapped around your waist and he squeezes you when he sees you make a face at the taste. You look over to see his mouth pulled up in amusement and you can't help the smile that breaks out on your face despite the harsh taste in your mouth.

*------------*

Your photographer friend, Terry, had sent a limo to pick everyone up, and Aaron had seen the visible change in you as the car pulled up to the club. It was deafeningly loud outside and the flash of cameras could be seen everywhere. Morgan opens the door and exits first, helping the other girls out one by one, following by Reid and Rossi. Aaron looks back at you - you're sitting incredibly straight, your jaw is locked, and your eyes closed - he recognizes it as your way of preparing yourself for the onslaught. He reaches out and squeezes your hand. Opening your eyes, you smile slightly at him, indicating for him to exit first.

He steps out and is met with a sea of cameras and people. He turns back and offers you his hand, which you grab, before delicately standing up and out of the back of the car. Your face breaks out into a wide smile, your eyes big and sparkling. If he didn't know you better, he'd think it was real.

The rest of the team has already walked past a red carpet outside the entrance to the club. There was a line wrapped around the other side - people waiting to enter the club while cars of socialites arrived and had their photo taken, bypassing the line.

Aaron lets you walk ahead, and as you approach the red carpet, the calls of your name get louder and louder. There are lights flashing all around and you easily pose for photographers, smiling graciously and waving hello to people you recognize. He can't help but feel proud of you for handling this so well.

You spin and smile, doing your best to stay in the moment. Aaron is standing to the side, waiting for you to be done with the obligatory photographs. You can't help but be grateful to him for putting up with this - this entire thing was so entirely out of his wheelhouse that you'd half expected him to beg out entirely and go do something else with Rossi for the night. You hadn't expected him to tag along with you to a club opening and actually seem happy about being there.

You reach out to Aaron, indicating for him to join you for a quick photo. You're both dressed up and you didn't want to miss the chance of grabbing a picture of the two of you together - it was already such a rare occurrence. To your surprise, he actually joins you, placing his hand on your waist and smiling at you. He doesn't look at the cameras. He looks only at you.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he's grabbed you firmly by the waist and dipped you backwards, his lips meeting yours.

You couldn't believe it, Aaron had tipped you back, his warm lips meeting yours and for a moment the entire world is you two. There's no one else - no people screaming, no cameras, nothing but his hands around your waist holding you up and his lips married to yours in the sweetest of kisses.

As he pulls you back up, your heart threatens to beat out of its cage and you know you must have a dazed look on your face as you look up at him. He seems just as surprised by his actions as you, and you can't help the laugh that escapes you.

The two of you join the rest of the team. Your group is led inside to a private table and you speak briefly with the club owner whom you recognize but can't quite place.

The party is in full swing and the dance floor is positively crowded with people. You all squeeze into the seating area and Emily is quick to flag down a waitress to help out with drinks.

"Alright, well I came here to dance, and since I'm not drinking I expect the rest of you to drink my share," JJ says, standing and reaching for Penelope, who knocks back the shot in her hand before allowing herself to be led to the dance floor.

"Come on pretty boy. We better keep an eye on them." Derek drags Spencer with him and the two of them join the girls on the dance floor.

"You coming?" Emily asks, standing to dance as well.

"In a bit. You go ahead," you nod, indicating towards the spot where Spencer is embroiled in a JJ and Penelope sandwich while Derek does his best to avoid being approached by too many eager women. "Go save Derek."

She laughs, swaying as she stands, and walks over to join him.

You cross yours legs and lean into Aaron's side, still somewhat reeling from the kiss earlier outside. You can't help but love this side of Aaron - you'd feared that these parts of your life were entirely incompatible with him, but seeing him stride over and stand to take a few photos with you and be so publicly affectionate makes you think that maybe - just maybe - the two aren't as incompatible as you'd once thought. Not that this would be something that Aaron would want on a daily basis but you now knew that he could handle it in small doses.

"Alright kid," Rossi says, taking a sip of his scotch, "I think you promised to make this worth my while. And while seeing the little show outside was definitely a highlight," Aaron colors ever so slightly at that, "I think I'm going to need a little something more."

You chuckle, moving your hand from the crook of Aaron's elbow to come and rest comfortingly on his thigh instead. On the team, it was really only Rossi who could talk about him like that to his face.

"Go order a drink at the bar," you tell him.

Rossi raises an eyebrow at you. "We have drinks already."

"Rossi, go. Trust me. Be sure to order something straight up. Also, you don't know me."

He shakes his head, but heeds your words. Standing, he settles his drink down and turns to walk over to the bar. Aaron looks at you quizzically but you merely shake your head. You watch and wait until he has the bartender's attention.

Standing, you stride over to where Rossi is and pause until you see what you were waiting for. "Oh my god! Are you David Rossi?!"

Rossi turns at your high pitched, exaggerated valley girl voice and you can see him stifle a laugh. Instead he simply nods, so you continue, elbowing the girl who was standing next to him.

"I am such a big fan of your work! Serial killers are like, totally my obsession," you say, maintaining your fake voice and speaking far louder than necessary.

"Hm, well maybe the two of us can - "

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before the girl you'd elbowed past earlier appears on his other side and taps him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"You're an author?" she asks, her voice low and throaty, as she flutters are eyelashes and leans advantageously against the bar.

Rossi smirks at you and nods, before turning to her. You'd done your job.

You make sure to leave in a bit of a huff as though you're annoyed, and walk back to where Aaron was sat, deciding to ignore the vast span of seating available, and simply dropping yourself into his lap.

"That was impressive," he whispers into your ear, having seen the interaction at the bar go down even if he couldn't quite hear it. "But what about Strauss?"

You lean back to look at Aaron. "You do know that they aren't exclusive, right?"

He hadn't known that, and he turns to take in Rossi and the young girl who had chatted him up, leaning far closer to one another than strangers ought to. "I think I could've gone without knowing that, actually."

You laugh. "It's not for everyone."

At his raised eyebrow, you clarify, "It's not for me. I don't share."

He nods. Neither did he.

"Are you going to dance with me at some point tonight?" you ask, indicating to where the rest of the team was.

Aaron glances out at the dance floor. The median age in the room was roughly twenty five and the last time he was even near a club was when you'd gone undercover over a year ago. Watching you dance with strangers and Morgan had been one of the hardest things he'd had to do and that night had fueled quite a few of his dreams before he'd had the real thing next to him most nights.

He's realized that prior to this trip, there had been quite a few things about you and your life before the BAU that he hadn't been privy to. He knows that the reason behind it was partly due to you both - he's hesitant to ask about things you'd rather not relive, while you're reluctant to bring up parts of you that you'd let go of long ago. However, learning all of these new things about you - everything from the stalker and the photographers to how your taste in artwork had evolved and that you were an avid chess player (based on the well-worn, heavy chess set that sat on its own table in the main room of your penthouse) - all of these new things helped him better understand and truly appreciate the person he knew today. You'd conquered so much in far less years than him, dragged yourself through the dark abyss that had swallowed you in the aftermath of Julian's passing, and today stood by his side, embodying everything good he knew to be true in life.

He smiles and with a nod, he helps you get up and allows you to lead him out into the crowd. "You know I don't really grind the way the kids do, right?" he asks, his breath warm against your ear.

You turn and smile at him. "I'll do all the work."

You guide him to the middle of the crowd, allowing the two of you some cover and anonymity from your coworkers. Aaron quickly realizes the advantages of having a girlfriend who used to be a dancer, as you turn in his arms, pressing your back to his front and bringing his arms to wrap around you. The music is pounding around the two of you and the throngs of people makes it feel like one could do almost anything and it would go unnoticed. You move your hips purposefully against him, helping guide his movements as well. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, his lips traversing down the side and to your collar bone and back again, while your hands roam - across his hands, his thighs, and back around through his hair, tightening your grasp and holding him close to you. It's euphoric - the darkness, and music, the lights, and you.

*------------*

You'd managed to round up everyone - even Rossi - and made it out of the club. Penelope had to be dragged away before she could start climbing on tables, with Emily goading her on and ready to join her. A sober JJ was no match for the two of them. Derek and Spencer had to both help Penelope out, while Rossi handled Emily. You'd seen her making out with some cute guy at some point during the night, so you're mostly just glad she hadn't let Eastwood get to her too much.

No one had wanted to end the night quite yet, so the entire group was squished together into a large round booth at the bar around the corner from your place. You'd ended up here many nights when you'd been unwilling to go back to an empty apartment by yourself; Tom, the bartender, your captive audience as you regaled him with stories of the night you'd had.

You're on the outside, next to Aaron, as Derek and Reid argue about some girl who had been hitting on them both and what her intentions might have been. Penelope was of the opinion that the girl had wanted a fun night with the both of them, at which Emily - still drunk - had chimed in saying that if it was on the table, she'd take them both up on it herself. Needless to say, she should be cut off from further alcohol consumption for the night.

"We should really examine why half of our casual conversations have to do with sex," you mumble under your breath so only Aaron can hear. You're pretty sober, having drank very little once you reached the club. You're hyper aware of how different of a position you hold now versus when you'd actually been a crazy party girl.

Aaron breathes out a quiet laugh. "I reckon it's because we're always on cases and no one's getting laid enough," he murmurs back, his eyes dancing in amusement as he half listens to the conversation at the table, the other half of his mind occupied by thoughts of taking you back to the penthouse and having his way with you. Nothing like having your girlfriend rub up against you for hours and not being able to do anything about it, to push a man to the brink of frustration. His hand has quite confidently rested on your thigh, fingers grazing the inside every so often. By now, he knows very well what little things get you worked up.

You extract yourself from him and grab the empty pitchers on the table, going to grab a second round. You needed a breather from Aaron for a moment anyways. The entire night had felt like extremely drawn out foreplay and you had to pace yourself. It was always so much better when it had been built up, and Aaron was far more patient and methodical than you ever could be.

You balance the two pitchers and slowly walk back to the table. You can feel Aaron watching you as you approach, his eyes growing darker. You know the outfit is something he isn't used to. Your wardrobe from before is definitely more on the risqué side and you've felt his scrutiny all night, eyes moving slowly over every inch of you, drinking you in. The only other time you've worn so little is when it's only the two of you behind closed doors. You typically made it a point to save some things for just him.

You set the pitchers down, turning up to meet his heated gaze. You bite your lip - it was crazy how entirely turned on you were. All you wanted was to get out of the bar. Or just drag him into the restroom. You're just contemplating suggesting that as you turn to sit down, when you feel someone approaching behind you.

"Hey Cap."

Your heart falters at the sound of the deep baritone voice behind you. You turn away from Aaron, a small gasp escaping you, your eyes widening as you take in all six feet four inches of the towering man standing behind you. Wearing jeans, a fitted t-shirt, his brown leather bomber jacket slung over one arm - his very essence invading your space. It had been years.

Before you know it, you've propelled yourself up to him, arms around his neck and he is quick to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, nearly lifting you. He's warm and solid and oh so very familiar.

"John," you breathe out, as you slowly let him go, remembering the people seated at the table behind you.

He has a slight smile on his face as he releases you, that you can't help but return. "Since when did you start drinking beer?" he asks teasingly, gesturing towards the table where seven pairs of eyes are looking at the two of you with a great amount of interest.

You let out a breath of a laugh as you turn to face everyone else, a hand guiding John with you. "Guys, this is my friend John Hawthorne. John, these are my coworkers." They all smile - nodding or smiling at him. You shift closer to Aaron, placing a hand on his shoulder, "And this - "

"I'm sorry," John interrupts, "It's nice to meet all of you," he smiles politely around the table before turning to look at you, his face the picture of apology marred only by the urgency that has entered his tone. "Can we talk?" he asks, nodding towards the door leading outside.

You nod immediately, a rush of worry flowing through you. "I'll be back," you tell Aaron, your mind still slightly in shock as you feel John's warm hand at your lower back, helping guide you outside.

Aaron watches as John places his hand to your back, and as he does, Aaron's eye is caught by some writing on his hand. Just above the wrist, in a familiar black script, Aaron sees a date that he is all too familiar with. A date his lips have tasted, his fingers have traced, and his soul has imprinted into its very self. His eyes quickly move back up to you, but you've already turned away, allowing John to lead you away and out the door.

"Oh my goodness! The ass on that man!" Garcia exclaims as soon as you're out of earshot. "Who was that? Was that her special friend?" she asks, turning to Morgan. If anyone would know it would be either him or Emily and Emily looked just as intrigued as she did.

Morgan glances at Hotch quickly before nodding at Garcia, which results in a squeal that she quickly covers up - poorly - as a cough, when she catches Hotch's eye.

Prentiss - in her drunken state - hasn't quite caught on to the awkwardness that has settled on the table as everyone realizes that you had just walked out the door with the man who was - as far as they knew - your ex lover. "I would climb that man like a jungle gym," Prentiss declares loudly, knocking back the rest of her drink.

"Anyways," JJ interjects, thankfully sober, "we should figure out the plan for tomorrow - are we all going back to DC at the same time?"

With the topic of conversation sufficiently changed, Aaron's mind is free to think over what had just happened. He's figured out why the man appeared familiar. It was from the photos he'd seen from your cotillion. He hadn't been your date, he'd seemed older than you, much closer in age to Julian. However, it was unmistakably the same man. He looked at you in the same manner he had back then. The two of you had matching tattoos of your brother's birthdate. He wonders why that hasn't ever come up before - that someone else's skin is marked to mirror yours.

He feels an odd unease start to fester within him and he keeps eyeing the door, as though expecting you to walk back in - hopefully alone - any second. He knows you feel safe with this man - you would've never gone off alone with him otherwise. With every minute that passes, Aaron feels an odd pit of dread growing in his stomach, despite knowing that you're more than capable of handling yourself. It was jarring how quickly his temperament had changed - the two of you had been teasing and touching all night and he had noticed the dark spark in your eyes when you'd returned, typically a sign that he was about to like whatever came out of your mouth next, very much.

Nearly thirty minutes pass and there's no sign of you, and the team is ready to head back to the penthouse to sleep. "Aaron, why don't you go find Y/N?" Dave says kindly. Aaron had been fidgety ever since you left. "We'll handle the tab and meet you out there."

He nods, grabbing his jacket, but not bothering to put it on. You hadn't brought one and would be freezing cold in that tiny little scrap you had called a dress. He leaves the warmth of the bar and pushes open the heavy door. Just across the street, he catches sight of you and John. You're facing one another, John's jacket is draped around your shoulders, the two of you visible in silhouette, backlit by the street lamp behind.

He's about to call out your name, when John leans down and capture your lips. It's as if Aaron was watching in slow motion - it feels like it goes on forever - the image of another man's lips on yours stamping itself to the inside of his head.

The door clangs shut behind him finally, drawing both of your attentions, and Aaron sees you turn and catch him staring at you in what was probably shock, but he's never had a stroke before and it could just as easily be that.

You look at him and he can't make out your face, but you turn away and say a few more words to John, who backs away from you slightly. Aaron is unsure of how to proceed. What was the proper procedure when someone saw another man kiss their girlfriend. Was he supposed to storm over in a rage? Was he supposed to fight this man? Never before had he been confronted with the reality of such a situation. His rational side implores him to remain calm and simply wait and talk to you, while putting up a valiant fight against the demon within, who threatens to rip out from his chest and emerge into the world in order to avenge this complete betrayal.

He watches silently as you jaywalk across the street, quickly making your way towards him.

"Aaron," you begin, before you're even close enough. He's never heard his name from your mouth shaped in quite that way. It causes his stomach to twist uncomfortably and his mouth feels like cotton.

Before you can say anything further - before he can respond - the door to the bar opens again and the rest of the team comes ambling out.

Your eyes are trained on him, searching his face for something - a hint at a reaction, but he's been careful to school his expression through years of training. He can feel the fight inside him, uncertain at how he feels and doing its best to assess and analyze the situation instead of allowing himself to succumb to the baser emotions that rule his head when it comes to you. You'd left John immediately, you're back here standing in front of him and it is as though he could taste the acrid guilt flowing off of you. A part of him wants to reassure you immediately that it was alright and the two of you would talk about what happened and you would explain and everything would be fine. However, the larger part of him knows that there is more at play right now and he can't say or do anything until he knows for sure where he stands after having seen that.

"Later," he manages to get out, looking quickly from you to the team.

You would know better. Not in front of the team. Not in front of people.

You nod just barely and he can see a visible shiver run through you, having returned John's jacket to him before you crossed the street. He's reminded why he's carrying his own jacket. He walks over to you, draping it around your shoulders. He can see you almost recoil from the gesture despite how cold he knows you must be, before recalling the presence of everyone around you and thinking better of it.

Aaron looks up, over your head, and sees John still standing across the street where you'd left him. His eyes were trained on you alone.

*------------*

Aaron's jacket felt far too heavy around you. You couldn't believe what had just happened. Aaron wasn't supposed to see that. He shouldn't have seen that! You can't even imagine what he's thinking at that moment. You'd crossed the street, fully prepared to talk to him, fully prepared to explain it all away - ease his worries and soothe any concerns he had. Because you were his.

As you'd approached, you'd caught a quick second of the look in his eyes, revealing exactly how confused and betrayed he felt, before he'd slipped on the mask that hid him away from you.

You're hit with a stab - you'd hurt him.

Everyone else appearing had thrown a wrench into the immediacy of your need to talk to Aaron. He'd still put his jacket around you. Still buttoned the top button for you. He wasn't raging mad - but you knew he wouldn't be. He wasn't a reactionary sort of person, but right now that might be better than nothing, you think.

You hurt him.

He saw someone else kiss you. You know how you would've reacted if the tables were turned and yet, he was being calm. He was being calm in the way he was when he negotiates a hostage deal - overtly so to the point that nothing can shake him and all he becomes is a human risk calculator. His fury isn't a boiling rage; it's a burning frost, leaving piercing icicles in its wake.

You hurt him.

It appears most everyone had sobered up considerably as you all walk the two blocks to your place. Your hands are shaking as your mind goes a mile a minute. John hadn't known - not that that would be of much consolation to Aaron - but he hadn't. You hadn't gotten a chance to tell him about Aaron and there had been a small part of you, once you were outside with John, that didn't quite wanted to tell him. You didn't think much good would come from him knowing you were happy with someone else. You couldn't have anticipated that he would kiss you. It had happened so quickly.

Derek holds the door open for everyone as you lead the group, waving everyone past security. In the elevator, you feel Emily standing right behind you instead of Aaron. He's at the opposite corner, not looking at you, but instead looking straight ahead. You feel another sharp pang.

You hurt him.

As everyone exits the elevator, all you're hoping to do is head to your room so that you can talk to Aaron. However, you have no such luck.

"Hey, Y/N," Penelope asks softly, "was that your friend? Your friend from New York?"

You can tell she's merely curious. She doesn't know what happened. You were gone for so long, it makes sense that they'd all wonder. Sighing you turn and see that the rest of them seem just as interested in your answer as her. All with the exception of Aaron who's leaned against the wall before the hallway, leading to your bedroom. He appears entirely closed off and he doesn't so much look at you as he does look through you - like he doesn't even know you.

You hurt him.

You sigh internally, knowing you need to talk to him as soon as possible, no matter how much you're beginning to dread it now. The fifteen minutes since you'd crossed the street and approached him afterwards felt like hours ago. You can't help but race through what he must be thinking - he'd seen someone who - if Derek had helped them piece it together - he knew to be the last person you'd been with before him. It was the first time he was meeting John and he had no idea who John was really. To come upon the sight of John kissing you - knowing Aaron, he's already thought through every piece of evidence available to him and come to whichever terrible conclusion was holding him as far away from you as possible.

However, there were other people present - people who supported you, cared for you, and who were all looking at you in question. You owed them the truth about what had happened. They didn't deserve to be lied to by you.

You nod slowly, very aware of everyone's attention on you. "Yes. That was John," you say, speaking carefully. "He's a friend - he was Julian's best friend. We all grew up together. When he heard I was back in the city, he wanted to come and offer his - " you let out a breath and swallow, feeling completely overwhelmed by everything. "He wanted to offer his regards on my father's death."

That catches Derek's attention. You can see him assess your words and hone in on regards. Regards and not condolences. "You told him," he says, his voice sharp. He's not asking. He knows you did. Derek stares you down - his expression a mixture of shock and judgement that you're not used to being on the receiving end of.

You're barely able to meet his eyes, so instead you slip out of Aaron's jacket and place it on the arm of the couch, despite how cold you feel. "Yes."

"Everything?" Emily asks, her face a mix of worry and the struggle to focus as she tries to comprehend what's happening through the haze of tequila still clouding her brain.

You nod again, feeling pinprick tears in your eyes that you're quick to dismiss. Only three other people in the world besides you knew what that meant, and they were all in that room. Now there was one more name on that list. You can't look at Aaron. You can't stand to see the disappointment in his face. Not right now. Not on top of everything.

"That was a classified case." Derek's voice holds the tinge of accusation.

You look from him to the rest of them. Rossi, Reid, JJ, and Penelope appear a little bit confused at Emily's question and you hope they won't think about it too much. Rossi probably suspects. You've often thought that he knows the truth about how your father died. Derek stands very tall, intimidatingly so. Emily is worried. You know she doesn't care if you told. Aaron won't look at you, his face betraying nothing.

You look around the room at all of them. They'd all risked their lives on that case. Emily, Derek, and Aaron had completely covered for you and helped you escape the worst of the aftermath of your father's death. Had they not helped you - covered for you - you definitely wouldn't be in the Bureau right now. They'd all kept a terrible secret for you and you had never once been investigated as a result.

It had been entirely different from when Aaron had killed Foyet despite his surrender - Aaron had brunt the professional consequences and nearly lost his job because of it. It had only been due to the committee understanding the charged nature of the event, combined with Aaron's otherwise impeccable reputation, that he had been allowed to stay. His had been in the heat of the moment while his dead wife lay in the other room. You had planned your killing.

You look at Derek and find yourself nodding. It was time for you to stop getting away with stuff - using people to shield you from the rightful reckoning. No one in the room should have to suffer through the culpability of protecting you. They didn't owe you that. If anything, your past indiscretions had proven you to be entirely undeserving of it.

"I know. I don't expect any of you to keep this quiet," you say, your voice shaking ever so slightly, hands bunched into tight fists. Steeling yourself, you continue, "John was the only person I had after Julian - the only person who also knew the truth and who was just as affected by his death as I was. He was there for me when I had absolutely no one. I felt like he deserved to know. However, I cannot expect the rest of you to either share my view on the matter or expose yourself to retribution for keeping this quiet. You should tell Strauss if you are at all uncomfortable with this."

As you finish, you look around the room. Your words have rendered all of them into a dumbfounded silence. They cannot understand how you could so plainly ask them to turn you in for your actions. However, they're unaware of the dam of guilt that had overflowed within you earlier when you'd caught sight of Aaron. Your actions - against him, against the team, against the Bureau - were entirely reprehensible. Whether they were intentional or not was of little concern. You would welcome punishment - not for the sake of penance, but because you deserved to suffer the consequences of your actions for once in your life.

You're unable to look at Aaron again. Usually you can see his love and adoration for you clearly in his profoundly brown eyes; his eyes were empty now. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him and be met by vacant eyes that left you feeling cold - your heart would splinter at the sight.

"Sugar," Penelope starts, breaking the silence and walking towards you slowly, the way one would with a frightened animal. Her voice is calm and soothing, designed to draw you in and allow her to help you. "No one here is going to say anything to Strauss. We trust you."

You want to recoil from her, the thrumming of blood pumping through your veins entirely too loud in your ears. "Don't do that," you tell her. "Do not make excuses for me. Do not make exceptions for me. I did something that could potentially endanger all of you. It would not be fair to expect you to keep this quiet for me."

Penelope stalls on her way towards you, uncertain of how to proceed. She looks around at the rest of them, the only sound in the room stemming from the air conditioning turning on and the sound of your harsh breathing as you try your best to compose yourself and keep from caving in under the weight of your own judgement.

It's Rossi who speaks next, after looking around at the room, for a consensus - his eyes honed in on Aaron, standing uncharacteristically apart from you and silent in the face of your confession. "Family's the people you make exceptions for, kid," he says kindly, his mouth quirking up in a half smile as he walks past Penelope towards you.

You watch him approach. Family's the people you make exceptions for. Family.

You look around at all of them - Derek, JJ, Emily, Spencer, Penelope - they all nod with him, even through their initial concerns and questions. They'd all seen you throw yourself at the mercy of the guillotine and they'd said no. Not a single one of them would allow that - not while they were around. You were theirs to protect.

A quiet sob escapes you, despite your efforts to keep it in. Your eyes are clouded by tears as Penelope reaches you and tucks you into her, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. One by one, they all approach you, offering a quick hug or a smile - reassuring you that it would be alright. They had your back, no matter what.

You're not sure you're deserving of such faith and trust from all of them.

"I think it's time we all went to bed," Rossi says quietly, as soon as Spencer lets go of you.

Everyone agrees and they all make their way down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Rossi lingers in the hallway for a moment, looking at both you and Aaron, a concerned look on his face, before he too opens the door to his bedroom and closes it behind.

If the rest of them had noticed Aaron's complete absence for your admission and subsequent plea, they hadn't let on. He'd stayed against the wall the entire time - through all of it, never once approaching you like the others.

It's just the two of you left now in the living room. You force yourself to look up to meet his eyes, but you don't get the chance to force words out of your mouth before he looks away. He turns and heads down the hallway, and you watch as he opens the door to the bedroom and enters, leaving the door open behind him.

You hurt him.

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