#honestly kind of a low key day by their standards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blasphemecel · 1 year

Text

Semi Eita — Coil

PAIRING: Semi Eita/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.4k TYPE: Fluff, Humor, Misunderstanding but honestly it’s pretty funny, (Attempted) match making WARNING: None, but lmk if I’m wrong

You used to think having your crush stare at you was flattering.

The Problem — as you coined it, and your friends make fun of you for this because apparently it’s ‘unoriginal’ — started near the end of your first year.

Being the manager of the volleyball club, you always find it odd when you overhear anyone gush about their favorite players or call them handsome since you’re kind of jaded to their charms, but Semi is cute, good at a sport and not an unhinged serial killer. What’s not to like?

You do realize your standards might be low. Like, in the gutter low, but still.

When he first took to stealing glances at you, you had the gall to entertain the delusion that maybe he liked you back and giggled about it over lunch with some of your friends who knew your secret. If it was all in your head, it wasn’t a big deal. Even if he was indifferent to you, you figured you’d hardly be the first person to have unrequited feelings for someone, so you didn’t sweat it. It’s not like you expected to elope with him or something. Honestly, ‘the goss’ was just good fun.

Then he started looking for longer.

Then it turned into a frown.

Then he started furrowing his eyebrows, and it was more of a glare than a stare.

And then, after he got the hang of it, he started glaring at you before he delivered his monster strength jump serve, and you shuddered and wondered if it was a threat the first few times. He still does it to this day, and you have no idea what it means, but all you see is, GET OUT OF MY CLUB.

… Perhaps you’re being a bit ridiculous.

He’s not rude to you or anything, never has been, so while you don’t know what to make of this, it has never been a huge concern. However, since Shirabu replaced him on the starting line-up, his glaring habit has gotten worse, to the point you find it distracting sometimes.

You hand Shirabu his water bottle and try to garner some sympathy. Not for Semi, but for yourself. “I think you loosened some of Semi’s screws,” you say.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t start with this.”

“Start with what?”

“It’s not my fault Coach Washijo decided I’m a better fit.”

“Oh, no, no!” You wave your hand with a sheepish grin since you didn’t realize how accusatory your words sounded until now. Then you lean in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, “He’s been gaping at me like a dead fish ever since that morning every chance he gets. What should I do?”

“But he does that all the time,” counters Shirabu, not at all empathetic to your struggles.

“Eek! You noticed that?”

“Taichi and I were talking about how embarrassing it is the other day,” he says off-handedly.

“Kawanishi noticed?!”

Shirabu rolls his eyes at your dramatics.

Though you should be offended, you get an evil glint in your expression and wiggle your fingers before you squeal in excitement and twirl around him. “So you’re not above some good gossip after all, Shirabu-kun!”

“It’s too early for this,” he scoffs, probably because he doesn’t want to admit you’re right.

___

Semi looks vaguely pissed off, as usual, and he’s been staying after practice more and more. Today he seems to be running even later than normal because the last few times, he was out before you finished sweeping the storage room, but right now you find he’s still here. You swing the keys around your finger before you poke your head out. “Hope you don’t mind if I stay around? I have to lock up and put away the volleyballs.”

He has some kind of emo stare-down with the ball in his hands and you wonder if the question you asked really is that complicated. “No, it’s fine. You should leave the keys and I can clean up when I’m done.”

Ack! Shot down! “Are you sure? It’s not good to stay out so late.”

“It’s alright,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” you concede because you don’t want to piss him off when he’s already on edge all the time. “Do you need help with anything?”

Semi waves you off and you frown. He doesn’t seem to want to talk to you anyhow, so you take the hint, gather your things and leave. At least you got an errand off your hands.

“Um… Still, try to be reasonable,” you nag one last time on your way out, wagging your finger and all.

___

You’re not one of god’s strongest soldiers by any means, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if Shirabu’s serve smacked you in the face.

It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened, either, and you remember Tendou groveled for your forgiveness when Reon’s spike woke you up one morning last year because you weren’t watching where you were going. It was thoroughly embarrassing for everyone in the vicinity, and Tendou enjoyed himself while Ushijima asked him what that even had to do with him, which was a valid inquiry.

You don’t register it heading your way — he, Kawanishi and Tendou usually have good aim, so you’re way less cautious of them when they serve — but Semi finds it necessary to lean over and headbutt it before it can hit you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Ow,” he says, somewhat belatedly, then turns towards Shirabu’s general direction. “Watch it!”

Watch it? But he got in the way of the serve…? You are so confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” calls out Shirabu, and you can tell he’s embarrassed even though he’s trying to hide it.

Since you’re on Semi’s shitlist, you resist the urge to laugh at him while you watch him rub at his forehead. He kinda reminds you of a kitten, but again, you’re not trying to get murdered today, so you don’t share your inner thoughts out loud. “Are you alright?”

“It’s whatever, Shirabu’s serves are weak as shit.”

You snort. “Petty. Do you want a bandage or something? I can go get some from the infirmary.”

“Don’t bother,” he says. “Really, I didn’t even feel it.”

The look on your face should show him you know he’s bullshitting, or at least you hope so, but then he does his little glare and you’re more inclined to drop the topic. Or maybe not. “You’re gonna get a bruise and look stupid, though.”

“I’d look stupid with a bandage on my forehead, too,” Semi says, and you can’t really argue with that. Then, after a stilted silence, he awkwardly tells you, “Off I go,” and walks away from you.

“Off you go,” you repeat in an incredulous tone once he’s out of earshot, raising your eyebrow while you follow his retreating figure with your gaze.

___

Whenever Coach Washijo leaves you guys unattended, Tendou starts behaving like a middle schooler whose teacher left the room. Somehow he talks you into trying to do a serve, too, and you get behind the white line. It’s kind of weird. You’ve only ever stood here in passing while doing this or that.

It doesn’t seem like the ball is going to make it after it catches on the net, but then it tips over and lands on the other side of the court. You clap your hands in excitement without meaning to and Tendou screeches like this is the most amazing feat of athleticism he has ever witnessed.

He extends his hand and waves it up and down. “Give me a high-five!”

Goshiki, who has to turn everything into a competition, stretches forward even more. “Give me a high-five, too!!!”

Semi glances between the two of them. He reluctantly raises his hand while he’s standing and shrugs as if to imply they’re insane, but he doesn’t want to be left out.

You run up at them in fake slow motion like you’re an important player getting introduced at a huge event.

“Miracle boy Satori,” you greet before you give him a good smack on the hand which makes him holler something incomprehensible in pain. Then he falls over and writhes around, but you ignore him because you know he’s faking it.

Then you move onto Goshiki. “Our other ace.” At this, he beams at you like you just told him Santa Claus is real.

Now, the boss battle. Your hands are a little sweaty, but this is a great opportunity. Maybe you can say something cute, and maybe he’ll have a Hallmark movie realization that You’re Not So Bad After All. You’re robbed of your thoughts of romance when you notice how grumpy he looks.

“... Semi,” you offer and your hand meets his in one limp, boneless action. What was that?! You grimace and prepare to bolt when his lips curl even further down than usual before Tendou raises from the ashes and slings an arm around your shoulder.

“Really? This can’t be all you have to say about Semisemi!”

“Tendou, stop screeching in my ear.”

He ignores your input. “Isn’t he handsome? And strong? Wasn’t the way he headbutted that ball for you earlier not super macho?!”

“Um,” you croak.

This is the most constipated expression you’ve seen Semi pull off to date, and that’s saying something. He crosses his arms and you think he’ll get wrinkles with the way he’s scowling. No, this is bad news — if you pick the wrong dialogue option, he’ll eviscerate you both. There’s only one solution.

You cup your ear and wrestle out of Tendou’s hold. “Oh, Ushijima, don’t worry, I’m coming!”

“Wakatoshi-kun isn’t calling you over,” he says before he pulls you even closer, cheek-to-cheek.

Goshiki considers it for a second. “Yeah, he didn’t.”

(You forgot he’s still here.

Ushijima sneezes with the most stoic expression possible.)

“Was that my name he just said?”

“Since when is your name a sneeze?” Tendou cries.

“I better go.”

Once you’re a safe distance away, you sneak a glance over your shoulder only to see Tendou and Semi swatting at each other’s hands like they’re collectively trying to fight off a fly. Then Tendou pulls away and makes kissy faces in the air and Semi tries to trip him with a kick to the leg in retaliation. Goshiki, from his position behind them, shoots you a smile and thumbs-up when he notices you’re looking their way.

You stand in front of Ushijima now, but there’s no reason for you to be hovering near him, so you struggle to think of what to say. He speaks first, though. “I apologize.”

“Oh, um, what for?”

“On behalf of Tendou and Semi, for their strange, sometimes disturbing behavior,” he says.

You resist the urge to laugh. “Don’t worry about it,” you say. “That’s just how they express their love or whatever.”

“But they’re hitting each other.”

“Well, it’s playful- I think.”

“So they’re in a relationship?” asks Ushijima with grave concern.

You shrug.

“... I was under the impression that Tendou was loyal to a woman named Pamela Anderson.”

___

“You’re right,” says Shirabu before he plops down on the bench next to you, discarding his water bottle to the side. You cease your writing on the clipboard to turn towards him, taking a mental note to refill it later. “Semi-san’s screws are loose.”

“Hm, what makes you say that?” you ask, considering how disinterested in the topic he was a few weeks ago.

“He tried to hit Tendou-san with a mop.”

Not really that unusual.

“Then,” bemused, Shirabu continues, “he passed the mop to me and asked me to hit him, too. Like we’re friends who get along.”

“Oh shit, it’s bad for him,” you say in astonishment at the information you just received. Semi strolls in not long after like nothing had happened. He passes you a customary glare before he trudges to the other side of the gymnasium, and you squirm in your seat. “Do you think I’m next?”

___

Even saints have a limit to their patience, and you don’t consider yourself half as virtuous.

All day, you’ve been suffering. You tripped on your shoelaces, almost fell, and then got performance anxiety because you could feel Semi’s eyes drilling holes into the crown of your head when you crouched down to tie them again, leading you to messing that up three times. Then he had the nerve to sit in front of you, say, “Let me do that,” in the most annoyed voice possible before he almost cut off the blood circulation to your foot with how tight he fastened them.

(It is possible he now believes you don’t know how to do it by yourself, but you’ve been avoiding thinking about that.)

Then — ever alert of his gaze — you confused several bottles, filled Ushijima’s with your soda instead of water, lost count of things you were supposed to be keeping track of and ended up writing down wrong measurements more than once, misplaced towels and sweatshirts, almost put Yamagata’s phone in your bag instead of your own, and deflated a volleyball. You’re surprised Coach Washijo hasn’t verbally abused him for paying more attention to you than drills and laps yet.

Now you’re alone with him after practice hours again, and he’s acting like you’re not even there.

You walk up to him with a resolute expression. For no discernible reason, maybe just to express your frustration, you slap the ball out of his hands. It lands between the two of you with a dramatic thud.

“What’s your problem?” you demand.

Okay, sure, it’s a little weird for you to ask that after what you did not even a second before, but you’re annoyed beyond belief. You like him, you really do, but this is so ridiculous! If he has something to say, he should just spare you and come out with it.

Evident confusion flashes across his face, and you want to pull your hair out, or maybe get the mop and see how he likes it when it’s aimed at him. “I don’t have a problem?”

Words evade you so you let out a noise of frustration and stomp away.

“Did I do something wrong?” asks Semi, but you’re already out of earshot.

___

The Problem — as Tendou coined it, prompting Ushijima to ask ‘What problem?’ without fail every time he brings it up to the members uninvolved — has gotten worse lately.

“I’m gonna have to intervene. Tut tut,” he says to no one in particular.

The locker rooms have cleared out for the most part. Kawanishi is playing a game on his phone, clearly not giving a shit, Yamagata is pretending he didn’t hear him, and Shirabu straight up leaves. Ever-reliable Goshiki who would rather eat shit than disappoint any of his upperclassmen salutes and asks, “How?”

“Someone will get a talking to,” Tendou coos.

Goshiki isn’t quite sure what that will entail, but he doesn’t like the sound of it, whatever it is.

___

Discretion isn’t necessary on this mission, but Tendou sneaks up on Semi anyway, because he thinks freaking him out is funny. “Semisemi,” he begins, and Semi visibly startles, and Tendou squints at him for a long while without saying anything, stretching the silence.

“What?” he asks on the off-chance Tendou has something worthwhile to say.

“You’re creepy.”

With utmost offense in his tone and a raise of his eyebrow, Semi parrots, “Creepy?”

“You’re stressing out [L/n],” elaborates Tendou before he stares off into the horizon, pretending to muse. “I mean,” he grins, laughs and squishes Semi’s cheeks together so his lips are puckering, more or less disregarding his response altogether, “this is the kinda pouty face only a mother could love!”

Semi shoves him away like he’s contagious. “What are you on about?”

“Well, a certain someone doesn’t understand your drooling.”

“My drooling?!”

“I know what I said, you don’t need to repeat it every time.” Tendou twirls his finger when he chides him in that annoying voice he makes whenever he’s mocking someone. “Basically, poor little Manager-san doesn’t know why you do that. And thinks you look like you’re trying to start a fight.” A gasp escapes him at the revelation before he bows. “Mic drop. End scene.”

He ignores Tendou’s antics, disconcerted. You think he hates you or something? Sure, he knows he tends to eye you… often, but it’s not a war declaration or anything! Semi doesn’t know what’s so difficult to ‘get.’ He thinks it should be obvious on his face.

Wait.

His face.

When realization strikes him, he grabs Tendou by the shoulder in a panic and yells, “Tendou, I have resting bitch face syndrome!”

“You don’t say.”

Through this new lens, he reconsiders the past three years like he’s on the brink of dying and his most painful memories are flashing in front of his eyes. He’s always saying no whenever you try to help him with anything because he doesn’t want to inconvenience you since you already have so many other responsibilities. But if you think he hates you, it must look like he’s trying to blow you off.

And… The serving thing. He shudders slightly. Really, he means it in a ‘this is for you babe 😍😍😍😘’ way, as corny as that is, but it probably seems like a threat.

Semi groans and slaps himself. Tendou observes his agony in amusement. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t worry, we can fix it,” he says before he perks up and puts his hands on his hips. “They don’t call me Doctor Love for nothing.”

“No one calls you that.”

Tendou punches him in the stomach for his insolence. If it were almost anyone else on the team, Semi would probably double over in pain, but now all he lets out is a little wheeze. “Here’s what you’re gonna do-”

“Stop trying to insert yourself just because you’re bored.”

“Now, now. Doctor Love knows better than you, as we can all see.”

___

Later, Semi says he didn’t know you even notice his glances enough to be bothered by them. In a sing-song voice, Tendou quips, “Semisemi, anyone would notice a guy with a shitty dye-job giving them the Kubrick stare.”

“My dye-job is not shitty!”

___

Semi has been ominously shuffling around in your general vicinity. At first, you ignored him, but now you’re kind of irritated.

“Can I help you?” you ask tersely, tone clipped. Things between the two of you have been a little strained ever since your incoherent blow-up, but you’re still the manager and still have… managing… to do.

He blurts out, “Tendou told me to tell a speech-”

“What?”

“-or kabe-don you-”

“What.”

“-but I think he just watches too much anime and convinces himself he knows what he’s talking about. I mean, he was even calling himself Doctor Love and everything. Can you believe that-”

“Semi,” you step on his toe, which grinds his talking to a halt, “you’re rambling.”

“I- Okay, um. I’m sorry. About the staring.”

Oh? Now you’re interested in how kabe-donning ties into all of this, momentarily forgetting about your anger.

“And being rude,” he adds, averting his eyes to the side.

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t have a problem with you… Or anything like that… You’re just- you make me feel sick in my stomach. Wait, no, I mean! You make me nervous, and I start acting like a dunce. And don’t know how to show it.”

“Don’t know how to show what? Why would I make you nervous?” you ask.

“Come on, you already know what I’m trying to say.”

“Don’t give me an attitude when you’re trying to confess your undying love for me!” With this turn of events, you can kind of see how he looks more shy than murderous, actually. “Anyway, you’re lucky you’re cute, good at a sport, and not an unhinged serial killer-”

It’s Semi’s turn to interrupt. “What?”

“-because I like you too.”

You smile at him. He sighs in relief and puts his hand over his chest. “Oh, thank god. I was about to throw up.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” you say, pursing your lips. “I really do make you feel sick in the stomach.”

___

“You have to admit I’m a pretty good matchmaker,” Tendou says, preening while he awaits your amazement.

“No, you really aren’t,” you tell him. He falls over, pretending to have fainted. “But I fuck with you for trying.”

#haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #semi eita x reader #semi eita x you #one shot

120 notes · View notes

anonymous-astronaut · 1 year

Note

How about a seasonal ask: The Mercs all put their names into a bucket (Spy checks carefully this time), and every one of them draws a name, only putting it back if it's their own name. The reason? The Administrator has ordered them to participate in a mandatory Secret Santa Exchange. Who winds up getting gifts for who, and what do they give each other?

Omg i love this idea! I’m gonna assign them to each other at random, let’s see how it goes!

Scout: He got Medic! This is a little frightening to him, Scout is low key scared of the doc and is a little worried the he might get his organs stolen if he doesn’t get the right gift. But on the bright side, at least he didn’t get Spy! Another plus is that Scout thinks Medic is super easy to think of gifts for, I mean the guy just likes doctor stuff a birds right?? Scout gives him a mug that says “#1 Boss” with the “Boss” scratched out in sharpie and replaced with “Doc”, and a caricature of Medic and his birds that Scout drew by hand. Medic finds these gifts hilarious, he pins the drawing up in his lab and uses the mug regularly.

Soldier: His Secret Santa is Scout! Soldier does not think for a single second about what Scout might actually want, he only thinks about what (in his own unique opinion) Scout needs. He thinks Scout is far too scrawny, so Soldier gets him a huge tub of protein powder or straight up leaves a whole ham shank in front Scout’s bedroom door. He also hade makes an America-themed baseball hat, which is the most thoughtful he can manage to be since Scout actually does wear that kind of hat. Scout tries his best to pretend he likes the gifts, but he’s a little unimpressed. You couldn’t catch him dead wearing the hat, except maybe on the 4th of July, but he will eat the ham shank (or hit something with it.)

Pyro: They got Engie! They are very excited about this, but also a little worried because they aren’t sure if their gift will be good enough. It’s not like they can get him engineering tools or something like that, because Engie either already has it or needs something so specific no one would know to get it for him. Instead, Pyro decides to hand-decorate some cookies for him. The cookies range from snowflakes to unicorns to flames, even a little mini sentry. Engie loves it, he thoroughly enjoys savoring the cookies when he winds down each afternoon, and he thinks the decorations are right cute.

Demo: Demo drew Spy’s name, and he thinks of it as a sort of fun holiday challenge for himself. He knows he could just get a bottle of wine for the guy and call it a day, but he wants Spy to be surprised and impressed with his gift and knows that cheap wine won’t cut it. Demo does his research, he figures out which brands Spy prefers and gets him a new pair of gloves, a fancy lighter, and imported French Cognac. It’s pricey, but it’s worth it to see Spy genuinely shocked that the gifts are up to his standards.

Heavy: Heavy got Pyro and honestly, he is stumped on what to do. The only thing he really knows about Pyro is that they love fire, but he can’t think of a reasonable or responsible way to turn that into a gift. He’s pretty sure they like unicorns and stuff like that, and he does know how to sew, so he decides to make them a stuffed animal out of fire resistant fabric. It’s hard to sew and is very stiff for a plushy, but Pyro absolutely loves it so Heavy considers it a success.

Engie: Engie drew Soldiers name. At first he thinks it’ll be a piece of cake, Soldier isn’t exactly quiet about his likes and dislikes. But the more Engie thinks about it, the more he realizes how hard it is to think of a good gift. Ends up getting him something super practical, like a new razor or supplies for cleaning out his rocket launcher. Despite the fact that it’s wrapped, Soldier doesn’t realize it’s a gift and thinks it’s just a weird supply drop.

Medic: The doc got Sniper. He honestly doesn’t put a lot of thought into it, in Medic’s mind he has better things to do than worry about what present to get. Plus, he knows Sniper is pretty reasonable and won’t have a fit about it if he doesn’t love the gift. Sniper gets a six pack of hard cider and some store-bought Stollen with a bow slapped on it left outside he’s camper door. Sniper thinks that’s a pretty sweet deal, you won’t catch him complaining.

Sniper: He got Heavy. He wishes he knew more about the guy, but figures he can come up with something good anyway. He gets him some quality chocolate and a warm hat cause he figures Heavy’s bald-ass head gets cold in the snow. If he finds the time, he whittles a little ornament of Sasha out of wood. Heavy appreciates it, he especially enjoys the chocolate and is very impressed with the ornament.

Spy: He got Demo (it was completely a coincidence that they got each other lol.) Spy has absolutely no idea what to get him. Giving him alcohol seems like the obvious answer, but he has no idea what Demo drinks and doubts he could stomach purchasing such low quality liquor anyway. After a little consideration he ends up getting him a fancy and stylish Sporran. Demo definitely wasn’t expecting that, but he thinks it’s great fun and immediately gets out his kilt to try it on.

#tf2 #tf2 headcanons #secret santa

47 notes · View notes

starfall-spirit · 1 year

Text

The Siren's Song

Siren Masterlist

Word Count: 912

Chapter III: The Bargain

Feyre woke to a soft speech and wood creaking above her. Strange and out of place in her day-to-day life. Then there was a hard pallet of some kind beneath her. Air she was breathing. Sand crusted to her skin. And two men she had never seen watching over her. This was no place for a siren to find herself.

The panicked shift in her breathing alerted the two humans to her state of consciousness and the low conversation halted. Both were quite handsome, by human standards. Nowhere near as attractive as the captain she’d met when she first surfaced, but handsome all the same. Neither said a word, waiting for her to hang herself, apparently. She couldn’t help the broken sound that left her when she spotted the short-haired one resting a casual hand over the knife at his thigh.

“Clearly there’s been some confusion here,” she said, pouring her gift into every word as she mastered her fear. “I’ll just be on my way home and-”

“Don’t try it, sweetheart,” the longer-haired one said. “We sailors aren’t too fond of magic and your pretty little voice won’t be muddling anyone else’s head so long as you’ve got that bracelet on.”

She took a sharp breath in. Her voice was her only weapon. She lived beneath the waters and had no reason to learn to fight on land. She eyed the nullifier with distaste. The thin band of silver was just loose enough on her wrist to allow circulation, but there would be no removing it without access to whatever key fit the mechanism at her pulse point. She looked between the two again, wondering which possessed that shot at freedom.

The man’s words clanged through her a second time. “What do you mean muddling anyone else’s head?”

The door creaked open then, drawing the speaker’s attention. The one wielding the dagger had yet to move his eyes from her. “Honestly, Rhysand,” a hard female voice was saying. “One would think you’d learn after all these years.”

“Amren, if I-Well, hello darling. Awake at last, I see.”

Fuck. They were local sailors. Residents of Hewn Harbor. Serving the captain she met before making her way to sea. Before that storm. And then she’d fled, off kilter from the interaction, and one of those cresting waves had sent her head straight into the rocks. “I just want to go home.”

“And I want to know what a Siren’s doing strolling through my port when our treaty is supposed to keep you confined to the waters. Start talking.”

“I was getting a gift for someone. I was on my way back to the water. Please, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I want to go home.”

He jerked his chin and the quartet behind him slipped out of the house. “There are rules set. A treaty between our ancestors that’s been upheld, as far as I can tell. Until now.”

“Yes.”

“I have three options,” the captain continued, pacing the small room. Feyre didn’t know why he was dragging this out. Just looking at their peoples’ bloody history, who he was and what she was, she knew she was going to die today. “I could do as the treaty entitles and report your offense.”

Throw a gauntlet and force Tarquin to bring her to trial. Risk starting a war that could bring the citizens of Adriata and neighboring coves to land if she was pardoned. And that was if the humans and those rare and precious magic holders on land hadn’t developed some sort of technology to strike hard and heavy through water.

“I could kill you myself,” he suggested. “Or—” He smirked, looking all too pleased with himself for her comfort. “—we could strike a deal.”

Her nerves spike at that option more than anything, despite it clearly being the best choice for her. “A deal?”

“A deal. Sirens can remain out of the water for as long as, what, a week?”

“Five days is safer, seven pushes the limits.”

He considered her for a moment, hunting for a lie. She couldn’t risk it at this point. “Very well. Five days, you’ll stay on land. Then you may return to your people for the same amount of time. You may even tell them of this bargain, should anyone wonder after your absence. When that time is up, you will return to either the harbor or the ship. You’ll be made aware of our routes. I know your kind are quite skilled in navigation.”

Though it was more rumor than fact, it was quite possible sailors had once relied on the mer to guide their ships after a storm blew them off course or as night clouds blocked the stars from view. If he or his crew estimated their route, Feyre would find them.

“If you fail to return…”

“I understand.”

“Good.” He cocked his head. “Now tell me your real name.”

She pursed her lips. “I already told you, it’s Claire.”

“You’re also a horrible liar. If we’re to know one another, it will require honesty.”

She huffed. “Feyre. My name is Feyre.”

“Feyre." She wasn't quite sure why the sound of it sent a shiver down her spine. "Go home, Feyre,” he murmured, apparently changing his mind about her restrictions. “I’ll extend the crew's time in the harbor. Our bargain will begin when you return. The fifth sunset, I expect you back on land. Is that clear?”

She swallowed. “Crystal.”

@goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @acotar-fanns // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @elentiya-whitethorn // @gwynkyrie

#feysand #fanfiction #acotar #the siren's song #the bargain has arrived

18 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 8 months

Note

Hey Girl! You made my day! I was having a pretty horrible day when I saw the notification update. It was like a ray of sunshine enveloped me. I had to wait a couple of hours to read the chapter and be able to enjoy it properly, and you did not disappoint me. What a chapter! And you said a new chapter of New in Town is coming soon, and a one-shot. I'm beaming!🥰

Sorry if I ramble too much, and I know I've said it before, but I love this story so much. I love the Joel of this story; he's so good! The only problem is the high standards he's setting. LOL. It would be the Joel I would pick to marry. I like how she's finding her courage with Joel beside her as her rock. And the whole shirt thing! And they slept together! The chapter has so many moments between them! It gets better with every chapter. I would love to see Joel's face as he watches her ride and catch the horses.

Although, I'm a bit afraid about Nike. I know it would be impossible for the horse to be alive after so many years, but I'm scared of how she'll die. She's Babi's first companion, and I feel a lot when animals are involved.

Did you leave any more breadcrumbs I'm still not seeing? I believe I'm overthinking the whole thing, but I'm curious. I guess, it can't be helped.😝 I hope you're feeling better!♥️♥️♥️

AHHHHH Hi Bestie!!

I'm so glad my work made your day a little brighter! I hope it got better after that, too <3

You cannot ramble too much, I love hearing your thoughts and feelings! And I LOVE this Joel lol he's so sweet and soft and kind and good and I can't with him. He's so gentle with her and just adores her and it's sgoing to potentially kill me lol.

We will find out what happened to Nike. I don't promise that it's anything good though 😬😬 But I get where you're coming from! I love animals and I always feel so bad for them when they get caught up in humans' bullshit and get hurt.

And there are DEFINITELY breadcrumbs in this chapter lol! Bigger ones in chapter 9 though! There will probably tiny little pieces from here until it all comes out later honestly. I can't help it lol and I think it makes plot sense to include it, too! I'm a slave for character and plot, there's only so much I can do lol

I am doing better, thank you so much! It's a low key weekend for me which I think is much needed. And that means there will probably be a lot of writing which is good news for me and hopefully y'all too!

Thanks so much for being here and reaching out and reading these stories!! Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #yearling

5 notes · View notes

aromanticbuck · 1 year

Note

Does thelma have any real friends?

Did she have real friends in childhood?

How does she normally spend her 🎂birthday🎂?

What is Thelma's favourite charity?

What's Thelma's "looks good on the resume" charity?

What is thelma's background?

Does thelma believe in religion?

thank you for letting me write the essay. this will not be an essay.

I'm not completely heartless, okay? I think life is really shitty, and no one, even really awful moms, should be friendless. I mean, I've established, in most of my AUs, that Thelma has a book club that meets every week, and yeah, it's mostly to gossip about the neighbors, but she does have a regular group of friends that she sees all the time. They have their book club, and they hang out in the same corner with their wine at every fundraiser, and there were always dinner parties when kids were growing up. (I like to think that she was close friends with the Sheffields when Mouse and Amelia and Phillip were younger, and that only changed when the "kids" all went to school and moved out)

They are real friends, even if they're all the same kind of people that she is - rude, stuck up, entitled. They all come from money, and they were all raised the same way, and they all kind of have the same attitude toward anyone they deem less than perfect by their standards. But they're friends. And even Thelma deserves those.

Gregory's infidelity gets found out and they all turn against him and he deserves it like he lost all of his friends in the divorce because all of their wives were friends with Thelma first

She definitely had friends growing up. She went to a fancy private school (the same one that Mouse and Kim go to in the Gerwitz Siblings AU), and went on all the weekend shopping trips and ski trips and everything. Some of those friends are even the friends who are in her book club.

I'm absolutely fascinated with Thelma being objectively awful but also being like... a person, with friends and a life and a story and her own shit going on off to the side

Normally, she'll spend her birthday with her friends - brunch with mimosas at the Donovan, and then going out to a fancy dinner when Gregory is off work. Her afternoon is the same as whatever she does on a normal day. It's actually very low key considering who she is as a person.

As for "favorite charity" that question assumes she cares... at all? Like, yes, she goes to the fundraisers, and the gala every year, and everything else. But that is entirely for appearances. It's not about doing good, it's about looking good, and being seen by cameras, and answering pointless questions about the jewelry she's wearing. She honestly couldn't care less where the money goes. Like, she has strong opinions on things like her son's sexuality and life choices, but even then, I don't think she even like... looks? to see where the money is going? she doesn't read the flyers or invitations? Yes, I think this is very odd, but Thelma is, in most ways, a mystery to me.

She's not religious. She wasn't raised with any religion. She was prepared to follow any religion that her husband might follow, but Gregory III wasn't super devoted to anything, either, except for like... the family business. Their religion is money. it's very funny to me that their son is head over heels for a good Catholic school boy, but that's just because the juxtaposition of it makes me giggle

Mouse and Jay both went to private school, just very different ones

#answered #shae tag #lovelymysticmoon #ale says things #thelma gerwitz #i hate her but i'm not making her life unnecessarily hard #she has friends #these friends did threaten to kill gregory when his affairs became public knowledge #muffled no body no crime coming from the entire book club

5 notes · View notes

sungbeam · 2 years

Note

46 and 48 for the ask game !

huaaa !!! thank u sm for sending in an ask!! ☺️❤️

ask me something >:]

46. have u ever dreamed about an idol

uhhhhhh i think so? LMAO it was weird, and he only appeared for like a second, but sunghoon was a news anchorman 🤡😭

48. an awkward, awkward relationship

HAHAHAH so uh,, , haha storytime 🤡

when i was a freshman? in high school, i sat across this guy in my honors english class. we kinda developed crushes on each other, and we eventually started talking over text and calling and whatnot. he wasn't a very good texter back then LOL (tbh im not a good one now either) so i literally like , , , lost my feelings for him 🧍🏻‍♀️ and then we drifted apart and didn't really talk

the thing is that idk whether or not he lost feelings too??? more on that.

THEN AND THEN some random night in senior year, he texts me this paragraph. it's like , , sweet and all but it's random. he's kind of one of those dudes who's like ,, "i don't really care abt anyone, i'm incredibly judgemental" but he was always really nice to me, and my friends were super shook when i eventually told them. NE WAYS he thanks me for always treating him nicely despite his reputation, and we start texting again off and on. EVENTUALLY HE FINALLY ASKS ME IF HE WANTS TO HAVE LUMCH TOGETHER

the thing abt this is that in freshman year, *I* was always the one who tried to initiate hangouts, but he would never BITE THE BAIT 💀 so i agree and he's like, , sorry i had ask, but is this a date? and so i tell him honestly that idk where my feelings for him stand and we go to lunch.

lunch... he apparently asked one of his friends to take him shopping the morning of ?? for better clothes??? and at the end, we had eaten lunch and walked around the mall to talk and vibe and i asked if i could hug him goodbye (yk just to see if i would feel ~~ SOMETHING) we hug and i literally go grocery shopping afterward 🧍🏻‍♀️ and he texts me later that night that he was too nervous to drive after like i felt really bad that i didn't feel the same 😭😭😭

and then he asks me if i have a better gauge on whether or not i liked him, and i told him i only saw him as a friend. he says he needs a couple days, and when he comes back he says that he missed me and would rather just be friends than not talk at all. at that time, i was really depressed and socially removed from EVERYONE including my own best friends, so i uhhhhh low-key ghosted him. like we were both REALLY bad texters. so we ended up not talking anymore.

LATER ON I TELL TWO OF MY BEST FRIENDS WHO R ACTUALLY LIKE "FRIENDS" W HIM AND THEY'RE LIKE WHAT. THE. FAWK??? he's capable of feeling???? and it becomes this whole inside thing between the three of us and whenever they saw him, they would laugh kenfksnbfjejd and my friend would hang out w him and he's like standard brusque, rude-ish him and he's judgemental and indecisive and my bsfriends like "let's call (duckie) for a food suggestion" cuz i go out to eat a lot so i knew all the good spots where we lived and he was like... "let's not"

and so my friends think he still has feelings for me and they're always like "maybe that's why (redacted) fell in love w u" cries

but yes ... very unnecessary tmi i apologize but that is a very very awkward relationship 🧍🏻‍♀️

#sungbeam strikes again #moot ❧#梅花🌸#ask games !!

7 notes · View notes

incomingalbatross · 2 years

Note

Chuck and Casey: B, C, and M for friendship asks?

Hey, I’d just been thinking about these guys! Thank you for asking about them. :)

My favorite scene of them: I've got quite a few, but I think maybe my favorite is in "Chuck Vs. the Tic Tac," when Casey's been committing treason and on the run all day and it culminates in Casey having a gun very much aimed at Chuck's heart... and Chuck's reaction is, essentially, "tell me what's going on, so I can help."

(What can I say, apparently I'm a sucker for moments when my faves point guns at my other faves and they just refuse to be scared.)

A random headcanon I have of them: So in the first ep of S2, Chuck at one point says something to Casey along the lines of “You catch me when I fall.” Casey’s like “that’s disgustingly cheesy, I hate it,” and then he repeats it back to Chuck twice within that episode. So I’ve come to assume that this line became a core part of Casey’s identity going forward and is low-key playing in his head whenever he’s protecting His People.

What I think would have happened if they never met: Ooh, good choice! I've thought about this one before, actually, so you get a long and rambly answer... :P

If Chuck were the Intersect but hadn't met Casey, I guess he would have had a different NSA handler... and I think that Sarah and Casey are really shining exceptions among spies in terms of how much honor and integrity they have, so any substitute is obviously less trustworthy. Team Intersect might never have cohered into Team Chuck, and Chuck and Sarah might eventually have had to go on the run as a two-man unit (which would not have been good for them, even as great as they are--they need a support system and community), or the whole thing might have crashed and burned within the first year even if the other spy were trustworthy, just because they weren’t on Casey's skill level.

Of course, if they didn't meet simply because Chuck didn't get into the spy life... That's less dramatic, but maybe sadder. I think (even if he somehow had Sarah), Chuck would be missing some things he didn't know he was missing. Confidence, maybe. Assurance. He wouldn't be as cool as we know he can be, certainly, because he wouldn't have Casey's presence pushing him past his limits or giving him new standards to live up to.

And Casey? I think Casey would be dead in a ditch/fiery explosion somewhere, honestly. He'd been in active service for nearly twenty years at the start of the show, and was apparently already being viewed as a "burnout" then. He's also absolutely the kind of guy who'd want to die in the line of duty, so he'd just push himself until the day he broke.

But he didn't. In fact, he obviously does some of his best work within the show’s timespan (despite his continuing injuries), and I'd say that's because he has motivation now. He's fighting for people! Not just against! And he has people to live for--he has a life he's attached to, by the end--so he's fighting to go home at the end of the day, not just to win.

But if he'd gone on much longer as just a killer instead of a protector, deliberately burning himself out for the Mission... personally, I think he'd have gone out in a blaze of glory within a few more years, at best.

#ask game #brambleberrycottage #again thanks for this one!#love thinking about team chuck #asks #chuck

7 notes · View notes

cityandking · 2 years

Note

32, 42, 46, 50 for daichi and bran!

oh the babes! ty! // super detailed questions about your ocs

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

BRANWEN — dresses like a PIRATE! sturdy pants, good boots, shirts buttoned and/or laced just a little low. bandanas and jewelry and her coat, of course, can’t forget the coat. her fashion is comfort > everything (except for being A Little Bit Sexy) and she’s not picky about where her clothing comes from so long as she likes it. I don’t think she wears makeup too often, but she cleans up so nice when she does. her hair is an unrurly tangle of a mane but also I think modern au she’d have a really great hair care routine

DAICHI — grew up sort of wearing whatever was available, and then a uniform, and is only just now getting the chance to explore things like style and preference, only he’s been mostly tossed from one horribly high-stakes situation to the next so I wouldn’t say there’s a whole lot of experimentation going down. he really likes sneakers. he mostly wears robes. you know those videos of guys in modern hanfu/hanbok with tennis shoes on skateboards? that’s daichi minus the skateboard. he buys everything secondhand because he has no money so you can imagine the kind of stress he is under. he used to wear his hair in locs but then he died and had a Serious Haircut Moment and shaved it all off. it’s been growing back but it’s still short

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

BRANWEN — wants to be free and wants to be remembered. in that order, but only just. she’s loyal as hell and rather possessive but would sacrifice a great deal in the name of that loyalty for the right people (or person). her secret ambition is to find what lies on the other side of the water. but more than anything she wants to be a story people tell for a long long time to come.

DAICHI — dai just wants to get everyone home in one piece, which is proving to be a fuckin’ nightmare. he’s already given up plenty for it, up to and including some of his morals. as for ambitions, he hasn’t got any. he thinks he’d like to be happy.

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

BRANWEN — introduces herself by her name, her title, or not at all depending on the situation. she makes pretty good first impressions; she’s charming and charismatic and self assured, and knows how to carry herself for different situations. she can lie or pull on a mask to a certain degree—she has an incredibly talented silver tongue—but for the most part, the first impression tends to be accurate, if a little impersonal

DAICHI — is an awkward dude, bless his heart. his first impressions reflect himself exceedingly accurately, which he’s pretty much made his peace with. he tends to be overly formal, though he’s getting better about it.

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

BRANWEN — her gun, her sword, a compass, her mother’s ring. clothes (her favorites) and food and the like, probably. rope? can never go wrong with some good rope. she’s pretty pragmatic; she’d take the things she liked of what she needed and maybe one or two other items for personal reasons

DAICHI — honestly just your standard explorer’s bag, plus his holy symbol and his dad’s letters. maybe a couple of the tchotchkes he’s collected during his travels; nothing like a noelty key chain to round out your basic survival gear. and the sneakers, obviously

#wahoo I started this and then fell asleep rip #daichi #branwen #I love them

2 notes · View notes

bladedwoe · 8 months

Text

NAME, Astrid

NICKNAME, I think Astrid's name is short enough you can't really make a nickname out of it tbh. She sometimes calls herself "Den mother" so maybe that?

GENDER, Female

ORIENTATION, Pansexual / Polyamorous

PREFERRED PET NAMES, No preferences

RELATIONSHIP STATUS, Married (by default)

FAVORITE CANON SHIP( S ), I'm just going to go with Arnbjorn for this since I base a lot of her romantic leanings and types off of their relatio ship.

FAVORITE NON-CANON SHIP( S ), I haven't really had an oc ship with Astrid. I have one that is approaching ship territory, but nothing official or set in stone yet.

OPINION ON TRUE LOVE, Astrid believes in it to an extent, but she doesn't really believe in the idea of soul mates (specifically one soul mate, she thinks there can be multiple and different types that range in the platonic and familial category). She thinks true, geninue love does exist despite her deprived outlook on life.

OPINION ON LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, Astrid doesn't believe in this. She trusts her gut feeling and her intuition, so she might feel a strong attraction (or pull) to someone, but she doesn't necessarily believe in the idea of love at first sight. She thinks it's childish. Attraction exists and is the start, but she needs to know her person deeply.

HOW ‘ROMANTIC’ ARE THEY, Astrid is kind of subtle with her romance. I think she uses words of affirmation and physical touch with her partner, but there's definitely a difference when she's out and about and when she's alone. She has to keep a somewhat professional demeanor about her as a leader, so she might brush her fingers along her partner's shoulders, or tease them a little. But she more of expressed her love in private. I think late at night, when Astrid can wind down for the day, she'll express to her partner how much she appreciates them, praises them, and will put her heart on full display. Another case of this would be if they're really hurt or near death, she will literally crumble and her cheeky and coy (or business-like and demanding, whatever she feels like will suit the situation) demeanor will crack. So usually, it's subtle, but she keeps a vibe of "I'll always be there for you" around her partner where she'll put their wellbeing beyond herself.

IDEAL PHYSICAL TRAITS, Muscular, grey or white hair, facial hair, rugged appearance, older than her, taller than her, well groomed (hygienic). Physical traits aren't that important to Astrid, honestly, she's more drawn into personality but she find a lot of different appearances attractive. Her attraction to women varies and she has no preferences.

IDEAL PERSONALITY TRAITS, Loyalty, submissive, violent/murderous (not to her, but in general), bold, adventurous, intelligent, charming (in however way she views it), confident, creative. (She finds shy individuals cute, but she'll grow bored of it if it persists).

UNATTRACTIVE PHYSICAL TRAITS, Short, lean/skinny, unhygienic, meek looking.

UNATTRACTIVE PERSONALITY TRAITS, Boring, too stuck on themselves, inflexible, controlling (of her), weak, indecisive, addict, always hot tempered, insecure, passive.

IDEAL DATE, Murder date? Astrid isn't actually that materialistic. She doesn't have a high standard with a date. She prefers a more low-key, one-on-one date that allows her to get to know her partner and have some fun. That can be chatting over dinner. Still wants to have a murder date though.

DO THEY HAVE A TYPE, Sort of? Dilfs? But honestly, she is open to most people tbh.

AVERAGE RELATIONSHIP LENGTH, Astrid has had quick flings and some average length relationships. Astrid usually doesn't operate with monogamy. She's polyamorous, but she will have multiple long-term partners since she doesn't enter a romantic relationship unless she's committed to that person. Any long-term relationship is usually with Dark Brotherhood or Thieves Guild members, anyone within their criminal circle. Outside of that, it's flings. I would say... a year or more, sometimes less.

PREFERRED NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY, Cuddling, having her partner bathe her or give her massages. She is willing to massage her partner. But she just enjoys sitting in their presence and talking mostly. She's occupied with work, planning, and taking care of the Dark Brotherhood a lot, so she prefers the small moments where she can breathe and chill with her partner.

COMMITMENT LEVEL, It takes a lot out of Astrid to get into a romantic relationship. She has to air out all her secrets and be vulnerable about her fears, thus showing more of her true side out there. She doesn't get into a romantic relationship with someone (unless plotted) until she feels like she can trust them with all her secrets. With being polyamorous, when she enters an official relationship, she's 100% loyal. Astrid has had flings, but when she got with Arnbjorn (for example), she doesn't operate that way and will only date someone else if all parties agree and she trusts them fully.

OPINION OF PUBLIC AFFECTION, Surprisingly, Astrid doesn't really like PDA. She will subtly run her fingers along her partner's shoulder or hair, but she keeps all affection behind closed doors. She will only engage in PDA if it's to distract someone for whatever reason.

PAST RELATIONSHIPS, She had a fling with Delvin Mallory in the Thieves Guild. I headcanon this was mostly a FWB scenario that ended when Delvin wanted to leave the DB and when Astrid was starting to explore polygamy. Delvin wasn't really into that as a whole, so they both split apart for the best of both parties. Astrid also got occupied with DB duties and rising to the leadership position.

tagged by : Stole from my other blog

tagging : steal it if you want

#( 𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 ; headcanon (( astrid ))#// long post #long post #long post tw

0 notes

ready-to-obeyme · 4 years

Text

[OM!] Demon Brothers panic-buy MC a last-minute birthday present

Prompt: You drop the fact that your birthday is in a few days, much to the demon brothers’ surprise. They don’t have a gift for you prepared-- panic ensues.

Note: gender neutral; :) i just like seeing them get flustered

Lucifer

“Ah, your birthday? Of course I knew. You thought I didn’t?”

He didn’t know-- not until you told him just then a mere DAYS before your birthday

Internally panicking but he will NOT have you know that he missed this rather important detail

Casually asks you in the next few days if you’re free to go out with him because “he wants to spend more time with you--” which he DOES but he has ulterior motives such as hoping you’d point out something you like when you go out so he can gift it to you

Will watch your movement and gestures like a hawk trying to gauge what sort of present you would want from him

Money isn’t really a concern of him; he just wants to make sure that his gift is something you actually want and is thoughtful enough

If he’s unlucky and you are in fact NOT free in the few days leading up to your birthday, he paces a lot in his room, trying to remember if there was something you mentioned from a past conversation because he has too much pride asking you what you would want for your birthday

...but eventually caves in and asks his other brothers (probably Asmo or Beel) what they think you would like because his love for you >>> his pride

He has seared your birthdate into his mind now because he’d rather not have a repeat of whatever happened this year

Mammon

“Your birthday? Hahaha of COURSE I knew your birthday was in a few days… IN A FEW DAYS--?!”

He blurts this out but you tell him it’s fine but he won’t have it

He’ll try to cover it up, pretending he knew, but he sucks at lying and the fact he suspiciously walks out of your room to find a quick job listing to get enough money for a present is telling enough

First ideas most likely include rummaging in his room for anything valuable or shiny that you could possibly want

Considers giving you his car for a second in his panic but realizes you’d probably freak out at the extremely extravagant present

Will definitely try to snoop in his brothers’ rooms in search of things and collectively tells them (and makes them panic) about your birthday as well

Eventually sucks it up and works at Hell’s Kitchen, literally diving underneath counters and tables to avoid having you see him working

Terrible at making excuses to you about where he is so you probably know he’s working, and he feels bad that he has to avoid hanging out with you-- but he loves you and this is for you, after all, so he bears it

Buys you something he finds value in and thinks would like nice if you wore it; after all, the Avatar of Greed wants the best he can afford for you

Leviathan

You tell him your birthday is coming up soon while he’s playing something and the only thing he says first is “oh nice”

Then he realizes

“YOUR BIRTHDAY IS WHEN??”

He died on the screen, which you point out, but his eyes are wide and a little pleading

Asks you directly what you want for your birthday and he will literally search it up for you on Akuzon right there and then (it’s wild seeing online shopping on several screens)

“How about this one? Wait, no-- that’s terrible quality and the reviews are horrible; let’s check out this one.”

Makes you tell him everything you could have possibly wanted in the past few months so he can compile a list of things he can search up and select from

If he’s manic for the next few days, know that he hasn’t been gaming (has not since you dropped this very important detail) but has been vigorously searching up all the online shopping sites he can find to get the things you wanted down to its detail and quality

Definitely enlists his online friends for recommendations, but regardless will buy you matching gaming headset on top of whatever you wanted because he wants you to know you’re his Player 2, even if you don’t game

All the presents come on the same day (Mammon grumbles that it’s blocking the walkway) and he shoos you away as he carts everything up to his room to wrap it

Wishes he had more time to make you a present instead of buying something but hey there’s always next year

Satan

“O-Oh. Your birthday is in a few days, huh?”

Satan stares at you for a few moments too long as if he wants to say something but decides against it and gives you a benign conversation starter like “You must be excited for another year done”

Inwardly, he’s trying to calculate in his head when he has time to research for things you want, if going on a cat cafe date is too indulgent to be a gift to you, if he should just ask you what you want for a present-- all while holding a conversation with you

Not a great conversation, mind you-- you can tell he’s a little preoccupied, but you’re more worried about how his sentences trail than anything

Pops up randomly in the next few days in your room just to chat, looks around your room, and then leaves again (like a cat)

He’s trying to find a present that you’d want to use-- something practical-- but also something you’d also enjoy having (he’s setting up high standards, but he wants his gift to be good enough for you)

Low-key stressing a lot over this that he’s a little distracted at all times

Ends up combining all his gift ideas by setting up a date for you to spend some quality time with him AND buy your gift when the two of you are together AND has a gift ready for you just in case nothing catches your fancy on your date (he is anything if not prepared for all scenarios)

The gift he gets you is something he’d think you’d enjoy or reminded him of you (and hopes for the best)

Asmodeus

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME EARLIER?”

Asmo is almost offended that you didn’t tell him about your birthday-- how is he supposed to set up a extravagant birth week celebration if your birthday is in a few days?

But no matter-- he’s not that discouraged and is determined to rock your socks off with a present anyways, even though he would have definitely had your birthday celebration as a tag for the entire month if he had the time (now it’s only a week-long trending tag, but he’ll make do)

Will definitely coyly offer up himself as a present (and if you say yes, he will be at your mercy) but thinks he has more creativity that than to make you special day great

Takes you on a shopping spree where he dresses you up in the fanciest of clothes and things that you have always adored and refuses to let up until you let him buy you a gift

On the day of your birthday, he offers up his room as an entire spa day-- pedicure, manicure, whatever-cure you would ever want! Massage, face mask, bubble bath-- if there’s anything that can let him show how much he appreciates you, then tell him! He is at your mercy today!

Takes you out on a spin in town, buying you drinks and dancing with you at clubs if that’s what you want; but the night is yours, hun!

Beelzebub

You tell him when he’s eating something and his face morphs from surprised, delight, to sadness

“I… didn’t get you a present yet…”

You reassure him that it’s completely okay, but you know your words aren’t working because he still has that forlorn expression that reminds you of a kicked puppy

Asks you directly what you would want and if you tell him he’d be more than happy to get whatever it is you requested, even if it’s a physical gift or if you want to spend the entire day with him

It is your birthday and he already feels bad for not being able to really prepare for it properly, so he’ll do anything he can to make you happy

If you don’t tell him what you want, you better be strong enough to resist looking into his eyes to not cave into just telling what you want

Eventually settles on giving you something thoughtful and quickly hand-made-- like a set of coupons that say things such as ‘I will do your chores for a week’ or ‘I will make you dinner’

The coupon book has a lot of food-related things than anything, but you know his love language is basically food-- he loves you lots, okay?

Other than that, he’s super indulgent to you on your birthday. You want a lift? No problem. You want him to carry you bridal style to school? Sure, he can’t see why not!

Belphegor

“Wait, seriously? You waited until NOW to let me know?”

Kind of annoyed about the fact you dropped this detail on him now and decides to immediately punish you by trapping you in his embrace in a forced snuggle even while you laugh (so honestly, you have no regrets)

Tells you he’s not getting you a present

He’s getting you a present though, regardless of what he says, but now he has the element of surprise on his side (assuming you believe that he’s not getting you something)

Hangs out with you per usual in the next few days, paying more attention to what you would want in a present and asking low-key questions about possible gift ideas-- he’s real sneaky about it, so you honestly won’t pick up on it at all

Goes out of his way to help you study and help you out because it is your birthday, after all, and he’s pretending like he didn’t get you a present

Probably casually drops off a gift at your desk on your birthday, and if you’re surprised, he’s a little smug-- but if you’re not, he’ll be a little embarrassed but will tell you to just ‘open the present already’

Gift is most likely to be something that he’s noticed that you have continually needed but never had the thought or time to get-- just to make your life a little easier

Tells you to go nap with him as compensation for the work he’s done trying to think up of a gift for you

#obey me #shall we date? obey me!#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #tags pls work

3K notes · View notes

mochegato · 3 years

Text

Even the Losers

Chapter 17

Chapter 1 Chapter 16

Marinette shook her head and tried to hide her giggles. Red Robin had to have thought he was being discrete, right? Unless he was intentionally making himself known as a way to intimidate any more rogues from trying to get to her. He was discrete enough that the average person probably wouldn’t notice him, but anyone paying attention, looking for him, would see him easily.

She waited until he was looking down at her again and waved at him. He smiled and waved back before blushing, shaking his head, and motioning for her to continue. Marinette grinned and looked back at the map on her phone. The restaurant Jason chose was around here somewhere. One of the places he just ended up at a lot, he said. Low key and cozy, exactly the kind of place she needed right now.

After that, he said he was planning on following her around for the rest of the day. He’d said it in a joking tone, but she knew there was nothing joking about his intent. He would be shadowing her for the rest of the day. He couldn’t hide the gravity behind the statement. He couldn’t mask the concerned questions, no matter how casually he tried to play them off. The insistence on seeing her apartment, make sure the view was good enough and the kitchen was stocked enough. The way he casually suggested she teach him how to make a baked good she liked.

Honestly, she was shocked he let her walk there on her own, but he said he’d be have eyes on her anyway. She looked back up at Red Robin with a smile. Clearly, he wasn’t kidding. White lensed eyes. The smile quickly morphed into a frown when she couldn’t see him. He hadn’t been hidden this whole time, so where was he now? She squeaked and whirled around into a fighting stance when she heard someone land behind her. She barely had time to put her hands down before Red Robin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder while he looked around, eyes sharp and calculating.

Marinette followed his lead and scanned the crowd. In lieu of knowing what she was looking for, she kept her eye out for anything that seemed out of place. Everything looked normal though. Nothing seemed suspicious. There were a few people throwing them odd looks, but nothing that seemed hostile or calculating, instead it seemed more curious and fearful of what having a vigilante dropping down in the middle of the night meant for them.

Red Robin turned back to face her. “Let’s get you somepl…” his hand went up to his ear. “Shit!”

Marinette’s eyes widened in fear. “What happened? Did someone get hurt?”

Red Robin’s eyes looked around them again and narrowed at one of the buildings. He moved his arm to her back and firmly pushed her toward the building. “Nobody is hurt.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “But…”

“There’s just an issue that needs attention, but nobody has been hurt,” he assured her, looking down briefly to meet her eyes.

Marinette nodded uncertainly, not feeling calmer with his reassurance. She couldn’t see his eyes past the white filters to gauge his sincerity, and it was unsettling. “So my friend and brother, my… the Waynes, they’re… nobody is hurt?”

Red Robin paused almost imperceptibly. If she hadn’t become used to his constant pressure on her back, she wouldn’t have noticed. He looked back down at her as they walked, the tense muscles in his face softened considerably. “They’re all safe. Your friend and brother and family. They’re all safe. I promise. I just need to go assist someone, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “I can defend myself you know.”

Red Robin gave her a deadpan expression. She’s sure if he didn’t have a mask, he’d have his own eyebrow raised at her. “After last night, you can understand that we and your family are a bit concerned and perhaps a bit overprotective just right now.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a sigh but didn’t fight him. “So you’re going to, what? Hide me in some abandoned office until everything blows over? That sounds safe.”

Red Robin huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely safe. That is our standard approach. I’m glad you understand how we operate.” He gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher with his mask in the way. “No. I think your family would hunt me down if I did something so reckless with you. They’re quite protective, you know?”

Marinette opened her mouth to say something but shut it quickly. He was a stranger. There was absolutely no reason to get into her family dynamics with him. “No,” he continued, oblivious to her uncertainty. “I’m going to stash you with someone we know we can trust.”

Marinette looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “A babysitter.”

The corners of Red Robin’s mouth quirked up. “Well, if you’re going to whine like a baby…” he teased.

Marinette gasped dramatically. “If you want whining, I can show you whining. I grew up with the most spoiled brat in existence. I can give new meaning to the word.” Red Robin actually laughed as he opened the door to the business. “You know, I’m supposed to meet my… um… br… brother,” she stuttered over the word. “Jason’s going to wonder about me.”

Red Robin cringed slightly. “You should probably text him. It isn’t a good idea for you to go out until this is resolved.” Marinette nodded and shot a text off to Jason letting him know she was okay and Red Robin was putting her somewhere safe for a bit.

They heard movement from the building, finally drawing Marinette’s attention to the business they had gone into. “Can I help… T… Red Robin? Marinette?” Roy asked pushing out from behind a motorcycle with its transmission in his hands.

“Hey, I was hoping you could watch Marinette while I take care of something. You’re a friend with the Waynes right?” Red Robin asked pointedly.

Roy stared at him for a few seconds before realization set in. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re like fam…” he looked over to Marinette, “well, not family family. But, uh, yeah.”

Red Robin cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. “No, I’m pretty sure you are con…” he was cut off by something in his com. He paused for a moment to listen before turning back to Roy with what Marinette was pretty sure was supposed to be a glare. “I’m trusting you,” he growled. “There’s some madness going on.”

Roy’s face turned serious and he gave him a determined nod. “I’ll protect her. Go.”

Red Robin looked between them for a second then nodded and took off. Roy and Marinette watched him leave for a second before turning back to each other. Marinette gave him a shy smile. “Hi,” she waved sheepishly. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.”

Roy gave her a welcoming smile and motioned to the garage bay. “Not at all. I guess you’re just visiting sooner than we anticipated. Can’t say I’m upset at all.” He moved some parts off of a stool and motioned toward it for her to sit. “I should say sorry that you have to hunker down here. You definitely look like you were going somewhere a bit nicer.”

Marinette looked down at her outfit analytically, a blood red, long-sleeved blouse, black skinny jeans, and black heeled boots. She’d wanted to wear ladybug colors after the previous night in the Riddler’s facility and the Wayne dining room. Ladybug colors always reminded her of the strongest, most resilient parts of herself. She looked back up at him, her eyes catching on the coat rack behind him. “Excuse you. All I need is that jacked over there and I’d fit right in. In fact, I’d match your baby.”

Roy looked to where she was looking, seeing his black leather jacket hanging up. He blushed slightly at the idea of her wearing his jacket. He could picture it on her, the jacket hanging loosely off of her significantly smaller frame, her clinging to him as they rode on his bike… He looked back at her with a soft look. “And you would still be too classy to be here.”

Marinette pouted at him. “You say that like I don’t fit in.” She didn’t want to say the ‘with you’ that was running through her head. Did he think she wouldn’t fit with him? “I can fit. I can even be helpful.”

Roy shook his head. “No, not at all just…” He motioned to his own clothes, an old tee, stained jeans, and a backwards ball cap that was just as stained with grease as his jeans, and then motioned to her.

Marinette looked between the two of them and grinned. “You underestimate my ability to get dirty. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be as dirty as you.”

Roy’s eyes snapped to the wrench in his hand. Based on the complete lack of amusement or sultriness in her eyes, she did not at all realize what she just said. He took a few seconds, it may have been minutes, to calm his heart and mind. “Okay, how about you prove it?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Prove what?”

“That you can be helpful. Roll up those sleeves and help me with this engine.” He motioned to the transmission on the workbench next to her. “I can also get you some coveralls so your outfit won’t get dirty if you prefer.” He looked back at her with an amused glint in his eyes. “They’ll be a bit big on you…” Marinette narrowed her eyes at him but his eyes danced with even more amusement at her reaction. “Since you’re so litt…”

“You know what…” she cut him off, standing to get in his personal space. She stared up at him, her eyes meeting his for a moment before her cheeks burst into color. She looked away and cleared her throat. After a second to recover, she motioned to the transmission as she rolled up her sleeves. “Just tell me what you’re doing and how I can help.”

Roy grinned and twirled the wrench in his hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

He leaned over the transmission and started loosening one of the nuts holding the piece together. His hand faltered for a fraction of a second when Marinette leaned next to him, close enough for him to feel her breath as she let out a sigh, close enough to feel her body heat. Close enough he could easily wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. He had to tighten his hands to keep them from reaching over.

He took a breath to focus. Now was not the time. She had just been kidnapped and people could take a bit of time to recover from something like that, especially considering the things she had said about having a breakdown. He flicked his eyes over to her trying to assess how she was doing. Her eyes were intently watching his hands as they moved around the transmission. They were sharp and her body seemed to be relaxing the longer she watched him work. If he didn’t know better, he’d never know she had been kidnapped and threatened the night before.

She looked up at him questioningly when his hands stilled as he analyzed her. He gave her a small smile and motioned toward the tool box. “Um… I need… Can you, um, get me the, um… 5/16th wrench, please?” he stuttered.

Marinette jumped up to search through the wrenches in the box. She frowned, her lip jutting out as she searched. “I don’t see it here. Is there somewhere else it could be?”

Roy’s face scrunched as he tried to remember where else he might have used it. He’d been working on the bike almost all day. He looked back at the motorcycle trying to remember what he had done with it. He was broken from his concentration by Marinette’s light giggle. He looked over to her with a raised brow.

Marinette looked away quickly, another blush on her cheeks. She followed where his line of sight had been and searched around the motorcycle, focusing her energy on her search for the wrench instead of the adorable face he made when he was concentrating and the way his nose wrinkled up in thought and his lips quirked to the side. After a minute of looking she shook her head and held her empty hands out for him to see.

“Any other ideas?” she asked as she came back over to her stool.

Roy sighed deeply and scanned the workbench. He had a backup set of wrenches, but he knew he had used that one recently. It couldn’t have gone too far. His attention was brought back to Marinette when she giggled again, her giggles turning into full blown laughter. He gave her a confused look which made her laugh louder. She reached over the workbench, almost climbing onto it to grab the wrench that was behind the transmission. She held the wrench out to him triumphantly with a smug, teasing smile on her lips.

Roy fought choking on air at the sight of her climbing onto his workbench and all the images that immediately flooded into his mind involving that particular scenario, especially in his jacket… and nothing else. He took the wrench, hoping she believed the blush he knew was on his cheek was from embarrassment rather than where his thoughts had gone. “Thanks,” he managed to mutter out.

“Anytime,” she grinned back. “See?” she motioned to herself. “Helpful.”

Roy chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around then.”

Marinette chuckled and let her focus settle back on the part he was working on. She watched his hands move effortlessly and confidently over the pieces. “Flathead screwdriver,” he asked, holding out his hand for her. She quickly grabbed one and slapped it in his hand like he was a surgeon. He looked up at her with a grin. “Thanks, nurse.”

Marinette shook her head and let her gaze pass over the garage bay. She quirked her head to the side when her eyes settled on a bow leaning up against the wall by the door. “What’s with the bow?”

Roy’s head jerked up. His eyes immediately found his bow and quiver. He looked back at her with an almost natural smile. “Oh, I just… like to shoot.”

“It’s yours?” she asked perking up.

“Yeah… I just pulled it out… recently.” His eyes flicked to the cut on her cheek quickly before returning to the transmission.

Marinette looked back at the bow. “That sounds fun. I always wanted to learn. How did you learn?”

Roy’s eyes took on a far off look and a sentimental smile spread on his lips. “My father, my adopted father.”

“Oliver?” Marinette asked, confusion clear in her voice as she tried to reconcile the sentimental smile with his description in the bar.

“Ah, so you know,” Roy said quietly, eyes suddenly in focus and pointed at the transmission.

Marinette gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. Damian… he um… thought I knew,” she stuttered out. She really didn’t want to get into that conversation right now. She was sure Roy would be upset and it was just something she wanted to leave between her and Damian, not someone else. “He just mentioned it yesterday.”

Roy nodded and flicked his eyes up to her for a second, gauging her reaction, waiting for the questions. There were always questions. Questions about Oliver, questions about their relationship, questions about their money. The exact combination might change but they were always there. “Sorry for bringing it up,” she said quietly.

Roy shook his head, with a small smile. “No. It isn’t your fault. No not Oliver. It was before Oliver. My birth father died saving me from a forest fire and a man named Brave Bow adopted me. He raised me. He was a really good man. He taught me how to be a good person and how to shoot… and just about everything else I know.”

The smile on Roy’s face made Marinette smile too. “He sounds like a good father.”

Roy nodded. “He was,” he said quietly. He looked over at her hesitantly before focusing back on the piece he was working on. “How are you feeling?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side. “Feeling? Not as useful as I could be. A burden on you more than a help, if I’m being honest,” she shrugged.

Roy snorted. “Sorry, I’ll try to get you to do more of my work for me.” He sent her a smirk that got an eye roll out of her. “And I would never call you a burden. In fact, I’d fight to keep you nearby,” he added quietly, no longer meeting her eyes. He tried to focus on the transmission but he could feel her eyes on him, making it impossible to think of anything else.

After a few seconds he cleared his throat. “I mean after,” he motioned toward her face, his hand still grasping the gear he had just removed. “How are you handling it? The Riddler’s no joke.”

Marinette scoffed and picked up a wrench. She spun it in her hand as a distraction while she spoke. “He really isn’t. I didn’t find him funny at all.” Roy gave her a flat look and returned to working on the part, letting her decide to continue discussing it or not. “How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“He broadcast it to all Gotham. Everybody knows. Everybody saw you deliver the verbal smack down of the century,” he grinned at her. “It was inspiring. You were amazing.”

“I was pissed is what I was,” she grumbled. She looked away and sighed, running her hand over her face and grimacing when she accidentally touched her cut. “I forgot everyone would see that.”

She stared at the wrench as she twirled it in her hands. She knew the Waynes probably knew she was taken. She’d called Jason to let him know she was fine, but had pretended she had to go talk to the police and cut the call short. She really didn’t want to talk to them after the scene at dinner. She didn’t want to have the conversations she knew they were going to want to have. She just wanted to move on. It didn’t have anything to do with them, especially the kids. It was her past, one they had no way of knowing about and no way of helping with. There was no reason to hash through it all again.

But she hadn’t realized they would get to see the full video. She frowned at the thought. She’d said so much while she was yelling and she couldn’t remember what all she had said. It was a moment of weakness that now the entire city, possibly the world now knew about. Thankfully she was positive she didn’t mention anything about the miraculous so to anyone watching she would have looked like any other normal, non-miraculous wielding person.

And on top of it all, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or upset that M. Wayne hadn’t reached out to see if she was alright. All of the kids had even Lucius had, but not him… or Alfred. After the way she left, he might not feel like he’s allowed to. But still… he hadn’t bothered to check on her at all.

She looked up with a weak smile. “Guess I’ve truly experienced Gotham now.”

Roy grimaced. “Sorry about that.” He watched her as she seemed to work through her feelings on the matter, going from annoyed to hurt. He returned his attention to the engine part. “I think I need to start calling you Fire Flower.”

Marinette looked up at him curiously. “Fire Flower?”

“Yeah,” he looked up briefly with a spark in his eyes. “It’s like a fire cracker, but cuter. More impressive to look at.” Marinette blushed and looked down, accidentally dropping the wrench she had been playing with. Roy grinned widely at her before focusing back on his work. “You sure you feel safe?” he asked, still focusing on the engine.

Marinette nodded. “I have Adrien and Max. We might not look like we can protect ourselves, but we’re pretty good at it.” Actually incredibly well. She was possibly the best protected person in the world right now, but he didn’t have any way of knowing that.

“I’m actually pretty surprised Adrien isn’t with you right now or Max.” He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette nodded. “You’re not wrong. They would be but Max just started work and couldn’t really take a day off immediately and Adrien had a job interview in Metropolis today. And this is the one he’s really excited about. I was supposed to go with him and check out Metropolis, but then I wouldn’t have had anyone with me while he was in the interview and that made them a bit too nervous. Here at least they know I have the bats following me at all times so, they were pretty confident I was safe.”

“The bats are keeping an eye on you, huh?” Roy asked with a secretive grin.

Marinette nodded. “I’m not sure if they’re trying to be subtle, but yeah. I don’t know what kind of relationship they have with the Waynes. They mentioned… the bats certainly act like they talk a lot and know each other well.”

Roy froze for a second. Well, they certainly weren’t being as discrete as they normally are, it would seem. Although after last night, he could imagine they were pretty flustered. He had been and she was just an acquaintance to him. He wanted it to be more but… that wasn’t the point. But at this rate, she was going to figure it out before they told her and he didn’t imagine that going well for them. “So you’ve caught them a few times?”

“Caught is a liberal term for it. Is it catching if they aren’t really hiding? I think Red Robin might have been trying… maybe, but Batman was on our balcony, standing vigil all night last night.”

Roy glanced over for a second. “Batman was watching over your apartment last night?”

Marinette nodded. “Markov said he was there until Red Robin took over some time around breakfast.”

Roy paused for a few seconds then tapped the screwdriver against the workbench. “And… Bruce? Did Bruce check in on you?”

Marinette looked away and licked her lips before pursing them. She twisted the wrench around a few more times, focusing entirely on that, not meeting Roy’s eyes. “No,” she finally said in a falsely calm voice. “I… I didn’t… Dinner didn’t go so well.”

Roy moved closer to her until he was close enough to reach her comfortably but still gave her space so he wasn’t crowding her. He ducked his head to try to meet her eyes. She yielded quickly and met his eyes. “He’s worried about you. I guarantee you he is. He’s just… shit at emotions and reading a room.

“If you guys fought, I promise you he isn’t less worried about you, he’s just afraid that seeing him or hearing from him will upset you more. I promise you he’s finding out everything he can about how you are from anyone that will tell him. He cares. Your fight didn’t push him away. He’s just a fucking idiot. And an asshole, so there’s like a 97% chance if you did fight, it was his fault. And he probably knows that, just not how to make it up to you.”

Marinette huffed out a laugh despite her eyes suddenly turning glassy. “I don’t need him to make it up, just… it’s not even his fault. It was mine really.” She fiddled with the wrench in her hands, testing the strength, trying to bend it, focusing on that as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I doubt it.” He sighed and readjusted his cap as he tried to come up with the right words. “I’ve found that when bad things happen at the manor it’s almost always because Bruce was being a controlling little bitch.” Instead of laughing, she frowned at the wrench. Right, calling her father, she’s trying to connect to a ‘controlling little bitch’ probably isn’t really helping. He sighed and looked back up trying to figure out how to remove the frown. It didn’t look right on her face. She should be smiling. Always. “Do you want a hug?”

Marinette finally looked up from the wrench in surprise. After a second she gave him a weak smile and shook her head, returning her focus to the wrench. “I’m fine.”

Roy lightly placed his hand on the wrench to stop its motion. “That’s not what I asked,” he said gently.

She blinked at him a few times before a smirk quirked her lips up. “I mean… I’m not going to object to a handsome man wrapping his arms around me,” she answered slyly, throwing his words from days earlier back at him. Roy grinned and wrapped his arms around her, gently at first but holding her tighter as the hug went on. His arms were strong and reassuring, giving a sense of warmth and safety and Marinette quickly found herself melting into his embrace. She nuzzled into his chest and dear God, she could feel his muscles moving through his shirt with every minute movement.

She tried to hide her frown when he pulled away after a few minutes. But, it turned into a smile when he stopped after a few inches, just enough to look down at her. Roy smiled softly and rubbed her cheek with his thumb a few times. Marinette leaned into his hand, captivated by the feel of his hand on her face. He started to lean down but jumped away with the sound of clattering right next to them. Roy moved in front of her, caging her in behind him as he looked for the source of the sound.

Marinette grimaced and leaned down to pick up the wrench that had slipped through her fingers when she was looking at Roy. He chuckled awkwardly and moved back to his transmission. He started working on it again a lot slower than he had been before. His hands were shaking slightly. He could still feel the traces of her on his fingers and around his chest, trilling through him. “Can you… um… the. Can you hand me the Phillips head, please?” he stuttered, unable to get his mind settled.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, her cheeks still bright red, as her mind tried to kick back into gear. She looked at the tools in the toolbox and back to him. “Is… that’s a tool, not like a horror movie thing, right?”

Roy blinked a few times before breaking out in laughter. Marinette smiled at his laughter, beyond grateful for the change of topic. “The one with the cross for a head,” he said motioning toward the screwdrivers.

“Oh,” Marinette nodded in understanding. “Tournevis cruciform,” she muttered to herself as she searched through the tools for the right screwdriver. “Americans and their naming things.”

Roy grinned at her outrage. “And what do you call it? The cross screwdriver.” he teased.

“That is literally what it translates to,” she deadpanned.

Roy puckered his lips in an attempt at keeping a smile off his lips and make his annoyed wrinkled brow more believable. “Oh, well I bow to your superior naming capabilities,” he snarked with a fake bow.

Marinette nodded graciously and passed the screwdriver to him. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Roy laughed and returned to the transmission, pretending like he could focus on that instead of the kiss they almost had. Marinette watched, almost transfixed as he moved the gears synchronously on the transmission, creating intricate and ever changing patterns. She pulled her sketchbook and pencil out to capture a sudden idea.

“The wrench?” Roy called out, not looking up from the transmission. He held out his hand and waited for a few seconds before adding, “Please?” He waited a little longer before repeating it a bit louder. “Wrench, please?” He finally looked up when she still hadn’t handed it to him. “Marinette?” He looked over to her concerned. His face immediately softened when he saw her.

Marinette’s face was frozen in intense concentration on her sketchbook as she drew confidently and without hesitation. She held the sketchbook out and tilted it slightly. She narrowed her eyes at it and tilted it a different way. Her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk before she added in more details and notes. Her eyes lit up with inspiration, bright and clear. She shook her head to get a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, hands too busy committing her inspiration to paper to waste time with such trivialities. Roy shook his head, mentally berating himself for having backed off before. She had been right there and leaning toward him. Maybe Jason and Dick… and Tim and Damian, were right. He was an idiot.

Before Roy realized what he was doing, he had reached out to tuck it behind her ear, being careful to avoid her cut as his fingers brushed her face. Marinette jumped at the unexpected contact. She looked up at him wide eyed but a sheepish look quickly overtook her expression. She looked down in embarrassment, but that only pressed her face further into Roy’s hand, which made her embarrassed blush deepen but not due to embarrassment this time. “Sorry. Did you need a tool?”

Roy shook his head. He smiled and moved his hand slightly so it was cupping her face this time. “It’s fine. I was enjoying watching you get caught up in inspiration.”

Marinette looked down again and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It is probably the most embarrassing face.”

Roy smiled softly at her, his eyes shining with sincerity and fondness. “No. It wasn’t. It was cute.” He took a step closer to her and leaned a bit closer, more intimately. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it more.”

“More of my too distracted to pay attention to you face?” she smirked and leaned closer to him.

“Any version of your face you’ll let me see. Although I would prefer to see it with fewer cuts,” he frowned at the cut on her cheek as he rubbed a soothing line just below the bruise that had formed around the cut. He leaned closer to examine the cut until his lips were centimeters from her cheek. He flicked his eyes to her half lidded ones and leaned to close the distance.

“Hey, guys!” Dick boomed as he came into the room. Marinette and Roy jumped apart, or rather Roy jumped away and Marinette straightened up on the stool, grabbing the workbench to keep from falling off. “Sorry I’m late. And sorry I’m here instead of Jason. He got… caught up in the attack. Not personally!” he rushed to assure Marinette when her eyes widened and body stiffened. “I meant he’s dealing with the fallout. Jason is fine. He’d just be really, really late and asked if I could come over here instead. If that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded, but her eyes were still slightly widened. “Of course. But you’re sure Jason’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” Dick shot her a charming smile. “He’s just going to need a bit of time to deal with things,” he lied smoothly. He looked between Marinette and Roy with narrowed eyes and moved between them as he hugged Marinette. “He really, really wanted to be here with you today. I think he’s planning on attaching himself to you tomorrow though.”

Marinette chuckled lightly. “That’s okay. We’ll have fun doing something.” Her face suddenly sobered. “Oh, no, wait. I have lunch with Duke and Cass tomorrow. I mean… I think I have lunch with them. We had planned it, but that was before…” she trailed off, not wanting to go into detail at all, but especially in front of Roy.

“I’m sure you still do,” Dick assured her. “They’re probably just waiting to get confirmation from you in case the last few days were a bit much and you wanted a break.”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed. “No. I’ll text them. Thanks.”

“But I get you for tonight. How do you feel about a movie marathon?” he grinned widely, already planning a full night’s marathon with her, Adrien, and Max. She had to love Disney movies, right? Who didn’t love Disney movies?

“I like movies,” Roy chirped with a teasing grin.

“No,” he answered sharply. He turned back to Marinette with a mock sympathetic smile. “You must have been so bored here.”

Roy narrowed his eyes back at him but Marinette jumped up to defend Roy. “Not at all. It was interesting watching him working on the bike. I got some good inspiration too.”

Roy raised a pointed eyebrow at him with a smug grin. “Motorcycles remind her of her grandmother.”

Dick looked back at Marinette who was looking back at Roy with a surprised expression. “Good memory.”

“I remember important things,” he shrugged.

Dick glared at him. “Uh huh. But not to check if things are loaded.” He looked back at Marinette. “You’ve got something just there,” he motioned to the cheek Roy had stroked earlier. “You might want to get that grease off.”

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed grabbing her cheek, almost succeeding in covering the blush that flushed on her cheeks. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

Roy nodded and motioned toward the bathroom. “Just right over there.”

As soon as the door closed, Dick punched Roy’s shoulder. Roy frowned at him. “What?”

“What the Hell are you doing?” Dick hissed and motioned toward the bathroom.

“What?” Roy answered rubbing his shoulder. At least it was just Dick. If it was Jason, he’d be rubbing his jaw right now. “Tim dropped her off here. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?”

“You were supposed to not hit on her,” he grumbled.

“That’s just unreasonable,” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned back against the workbench. He motioned to the bathroom. “Have you met her? She’s smart and sassy and really sweet. She's funny and obviously gorgeous. Who doesn’t want to hit on her?”

“Yeah. I’ve met her. Didn’t hit on her.” Dick let out a long suffering sigh. “Jesus, Roy! I’ve had her as a sister for like a week. I don’t want to lose her because I’m in jail for killing you.”

“You’re her brother, you don’t count in the hitting on her count. And please,” Roy scoffed, “you’re too good to go to jail for it.”

“True. Just…” he narrowed his eyes at him and pointed at him threateningly, “if you mess around and hurt her… I’ll choose her over you. And I won’t forget to load the magazines and Jason will be more than happy to use them.”

“That’s hurtful,” Roy groused. “One time. I forgot to load the magazines one time.”

“Yeah, in the middle of a mission!” Dick whisper hissed.

“You survived,” Roy shrugged. “Stop being such a baby. But I get it. I’d choose her over me too. Or you. But if you were going to kill anyone for hurting her, Riddler wouldn’t still be alive… or Bruce.”

Dick pursed his lips at the reminder of how Bruce had treated Marinette, of everything that had come up the night before. His anger quickly deflating. He looked toward the bathroom, his eyes softening. They really needed to work harder to support her, to assure her they weren’t holding her at arm’s length. Maybe talk to Bruce about telling her the truth. That seemed like the only possible way to salvage this. “How does she seem to be doing?”

Roy shrugged and watched the bathroom door to make sure she wouldn’t walk in on the conversation. “Actually doesn’t seem too bothered by the Riddler incident. She’s more anxious about the family knowing.” He pursed his lips and picked up a transmission piece, pretending to examine it. “Bruce hasn’t said anything or made any attempts as far as she knows.”

Dick sighed and massaged his temples. “That should surprise me more than it does.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Last night… dinner didn’t… some things came out that Bruce didn’t know. Things she had to go through. He’s beating himself up over it. Too ashamed to talk to her.”

Roy sighed and shook his head. Bruce was going to lose her before he even had her at this point. “That have anything to do with why she’s so unaffected by having been taken captive by one of the most dangerous rogues in Gotham?” Dick’s resigned sigh was enough confirmation for him. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “She thinks it’s her fault he doesn’t want to bother with her anymore.”

“Damn it,” Dick grumbled, drawing out the words in frustration. He ran his hand over his face and collapsed on the stool she had been on earlier. “Good to know. Thanks.”

Roy nodded and threw the part back on the workbench. “How’s Jay doing?”

“He’ll be okay. Tim got there in time to stop him from going too far, but he’s going to need a few hours, maybe the night to let the Pit Madness recede. And I think he’s really nervous about showing any part of that to Marinette.”

They both snapped their attention to Marinette when she came back. “My cheek look better?” she turned her cheek for them to see. “I mean obviously not the cut.”

“Yeah, you look beautiful.” Roy assured her and handed her purse to her.

Dick glared at Roy. “Could you stop hitting on my sister for five seconds?” he hissed low enough for Marinette not to hear. He turned to Marinette before Roy could respond. “Ready to go? I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Dick walked ahead of her, pretending like he didn’t notice her lag behind. When he was almost out the door, she turned to Roy and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for babysitting me today and for the tour the other day. I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Roy nodded and handed her his phone with a spot for Fire Flower already started in his contacts. “If your plans ever get canceled again or you need to hide out or you need to borrow a jacket so you fit in, give me a call, Fire Flower.”

Marinette put her number in and passed it back to him with a grin. “You have extra you can just loan out?”

Roy grinned back and nodded. “A few jackets, suit coats, shirts, ties, clean pants, even a few pairs of coveralls, none of which would fit you, but if you ever need them… Or even if you don’t need anything, just want to talk or hang out, let me know.”

“Marinette! I thought you were ready to go?” Dick yelled.

Marinette shook her head and sighed. She waved to Roy as she rushed out. “Thanks again!”

Roy watched her leave until he couldn’t see her anymore. He let out a deep sigh and collapsed against the workbench. He looked at his phone and quickly sent a text with a smile.

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8 @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #prompt - no miraculous au #this is the last chapter I have written already so updates are going to be more sporadic from here on out #mbdbwm2021

166 notes · View notes

whet-ones-write · 3 years

Text

Baku Birthday 2021

So I’m posting this a /little/ early because I’m just too excited to share this fic! So I joined in with Bakugou’s Birthday Bash hosted by these amazing people!!

@phasmwrites @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda @lady-bakuhoe @jodrawssmut & @ramen-rambles

And since joining I couldn’t have found a more supporting and helpful group on Discord!! Special thanks to: @hoe-doroki for being my beta reader and editor!! Thank you for dealing with my sorry, inconsistant ass and giving me the strength to pull though and just do some of my best writing to date! I haven’t written so much in so long and it was rather nice!!

And to @notchesandbullets for telling me I can do this and be those words of praise when I needed them the most helping me pull though and finish this!

Contains: DragonShifter!Reader x Bakugou. Fantasy Setting,

WC: 3755 - Masterlist to all the works!!

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, oral (Female + M reviecing), Cowgirl, unprotected sex, Cum eating, Premature Ejaluations (if you squint), Age gap? It’s implied Reader is much older than Katsuki. Restraining Katsuki, Pervert Kiri

Looking around his throne, Katsuki couldn’t help but scoff at what came to his mind. He had everything a chief could want, but it still wasn’t enough for the young, barbaric male. Vast and grand was his home. People were happy, going about their day, harvest due and bountiful, the river running steady and clean.

Though, he was still missing a vital element to his life. Someone to make him happy, to have by his side and call his own. So the only thing he had left to need or want was someone to walk into battle with him, because not just any person would.

No, they had to have a few key traits to meet his standards. They needed to have a willingness to fight, to want to protect those around him and themselves with everything they had. They had to be able to take flack and a joke but also be serious when the time came. They had to be able to take no shit from anyone and make sure to be willing to put others in their place if they went out of line.

It wasn’t much! Honestly…Or at least he thought so.

“...ugou, Bakugou!” A voice snapped him from his thoughts as he glanced at his adviser, unhappy over the fact he was interrupted from his thoughts.

“What is it?” Katsuki questioned as he lazily shifted his attention to the man standing at his right side.

“As I was saying, there have been some sightings of strangely coloured dragons in the nearby valleys. We do not know if it is one or more or if they’re passing by or staying. Moreover, they have yet to attack the villages, but it would be wise to at least investigate the surrounding areas before anything happens,” his assistant spoke as he looked for what the King was going to do.

Taking a moment, Katsuki couldn’t help but smile as he got up and began to stretch. “Eijirou, prepare for a flight. It seems there might be someone that needs a reminder of who those valleys belong to.”

Though to the Bakugou family dragons were revered and seen as good omens, there was a limit. Dragons that fought over territory could be destructive and wipe entire lands from existence, so if there was ever more than one in an area it could prove to be a bad omen instead.

One dragon or one family were seen as protecting the lands, keeping invaders at bay and being loyal by nature. Though another one could offset the balance, should they prove to be hungry or hostile. The valleys in which the Bakugous lived were famous for having the longest standing relationship with the red dragons of the Kirishima clan. They had served one another for generations with the latest duo being that of the Barbarian King Katsuki Bakugou, son of the late Chieftess Mitsuki Bakugou, and the dragon that protected the lands, Eijirou Kirishima, son to late Hikori Kirishima.

Standing at seven feet, the mostly human nodded and saluted as he walked with his friend outside. “Yes, sir.” He beamed happily, seemingly excited by the prospect of seeing another dragon. “Though, what are your instructions, should they prove hostile?”

“Hostile?” Katsuki mused, placing a hand to his chin as the other morphed into that of a forty-foot-long dragon from the tip of his nose to the very end of his arrow-pointed tail. Once finished, Kirishima leaned down to lower his wing, letting Katsuki get on by walking up the thin bone of the arch of his wing and holding onto his spines, climbing all the way to behind the red horns that adorned his head. “Should the dragon wish to try and stay, we will start through the diplomatic route.”

That was the thing about Katsuki. For all his bloodlust and anger, he was quite the strategist when it came to monsters several times his size. Having worked with Eijirou for some time, they had built up a bond of trust valuable for when trouble arose.

“Should that fail, we will have to take things up a notch. I would like to avoid a fight if at all possible.” He sighed as he clung to the horn while the other took off. “The valley is full of fish making their way upstream for the breeding season,” he muttered before groaning and slapping his face as he remembered something, getting even more irritated.

“It could be a female dragon,” he groaned, looking down to Eijirou. “With breeding season approaching, it could prove very troublesome,” he grumbled as he lay down to keep low as Eijirou took to the sky.

“Hm,” came a deep rumble from the beast.

A female dragon would be far better than a male should they be able to move it along. It could prove worse in the long run, though, as other males came to try and have their chance, destroying the local landscape fighting over the female.

“Not going to be influenced? I know you’re a young male.” Katsuki snickered as the dragon grunted and shook slightly in a ‘no’. “Don’t worry, whatever happens we’ll sort it,” he offered quietly as he calmed down to focus on the mission at hand.

They took to the base of the mountains and looked for any signs of disturbance. With fear running though the nearest village, it was clear to see that the crops were half unattended and in the middle of being harvested. “I’m going to go take a look at the surrounding areas and talk to the locals. You go on up the mountain and scout that out,” the Chief commanded. With a short huff and a nod, Eijirou turned to slowly and carefully make his way up and around the mountains.

It wasn’t long before Eijirou returned with some news. Meeting in the center of town, the dragon descended slowly and waited for Katsuki to approach before he spoke. “I found a trail of blood from the ground leading up to a cave roughly halfway up the mountain.

Nodding, Katsuki signaled for Eijirou to lower himself so he could climb onto his back. “Sounds about right. The locals saw a figure flying unsteadily across the sky and into the mountain. There was a loud thump before all went silent. It’s more than likely a dragon. It hasn’t done harm to the villagers yet, though, so a slow, quiet and careful approach is needed.”

Coming to the entrance of the cave, Katsuki hopped off Eijirou, immediately noticing the plants had been recently crushed and a splattering of dried blood was leading into the cave. Looking up to Eijirou, he nodded and quietly led the way in. Eijirou used a small breath to light the torch that Katsuki would have to use to see.

It didn’t take them long to find the cause of the blood and crushed plants. Lying in front of them was a bronze dragon just as large as Kirishima, if not bigger, bleeding heavily from it’s hind leg, belly and face.

“Holy shit,” Katsukimuttered as he looked over the sight. He froze as the dragon raised its head. Chuckling, you looked over at Katsuki and Eijirou. “If you have come to kill me, at least make it swift.”

“Tch, don’t lump me with most humans,” Katsuki stated as he approached you, looking over the wounds. A huffing could be heard as he made his way closer, your muscles tense and beady eyes watching his form, ready to attack should harm come. “I’m a Bakugou. We don’t harm your kind.”

“You may not harm but you enslave. I feel sorry for the red scaled one over there. Forced to serve you like their ancestors,” you mumbled, laying your head down and closing your eyes to rest.

Eijirou huffed before he sat down. “I’m not. It’s nice to have lands that we don’t have to fight over and live in harmony with humans,” he protested, watching as Katsuki assessed the wounds. “I am from the Kirishima clan.” He beamed, almost a little too excited to say so. “It’s nice to see another shade of red around here. Normally those of the Shinsou clan are around these areas.” Eijirou started, tilting his head to the side. “So what brings you here?” he mused.

Which was how you explained your side of the story. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to attack those of draconic race because of the first dragons causing havoc and turmoil for humankind. You were a young dragon who still had not found some land to live in. So, you were aimlessly looking around for somewhere to sleep before you were ambushed by a kingdom that had a bad past with dragons, driving you out.

“Well,” Katsuki started as he backed off. “If you revert into your human form, we can take you back and give you medical aid. I’m not about to let a creature like you just die pathetically cold and alone in such a depressing state.”

With that, they watched as your form changed into a bloodstained, corseted, sleeveless dress, wings still visible with a tail barely peeking from beneath your long skirt. Their eyes lingered for a little too long to be completely respectful.

Getting up from where he lay, Eijirou gently enclosed you in his claws, protecting you, letting Katsuki onto his back before taking off back to the kingdom to give you the aid you needed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next thing you knew, you were waking up to some argument going on outside, though you took no heed to it. After all, you would need to at least stay to repay the kindness the human has shown you before taking your leave.

As the flap to the tent opened, you looked up at the figure that came to inspect you in the cot. “How are you feeling?” The one that entered had torn red wings and a thin arrow-headed tail much like that of the dragon you’d seen earlier.

“Much better, thanks.” He watched you as you got up to move around.

“Yeah, my mother is a great healer.” The man beamed proudly before his face dropped for a moment in realisation. “Oh, that’s right! I’m Eijirou Kirishima!” He offered a hand for you to shake as he introduced yourself. “I’m Katsuki’s dragon companion. Speaking of which, when you feel up to it, he wants to see you in the throne room. He’s currently occupied with some business, so why not come later tonight before dinner? He wants to talk to you about some things.”

“Ah I see” You nodded in agreement though still clearly wary of him.

“Yeah, my mom specialises in herbal and magical treatments for dragons. You should be fighting fit by the end of day! So enjoy yourself and have a look around! You’re more than welcome here as long as you don’t kill anyone.” You found yourself chuckling lightly along with him as he waved. “See ya! Rest up well and don’t push yourself too hard!” He beamed as he left.

As Eijirou left you alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but think back to just how trustingly and kindly Katsuki had treated you. Taking your leave from the tent, you looked to the sky to gauge the time of day. Deciding you had at least an hour before the sun would set and you would need to see the Chieftain, you went to see what the town had to offer.

As you walked among the townsfolk, you couldn’t help but notice that dragons and humans walked around one another as if that were a normal thing to do. Had things always been like this? And how had this not spread to other countries? Though be that as it might, you were happy for these people; they seemed to be comfortable and welcoming just like the man who had found you. Perhaps you could stay a little longer than intended…

Still, once the sun started to set you walked back the way you came only to come across a tent larger than most, assuming that was where Katsuki would be wrapping up the day.

You slowly opened the flap as some villagers came out, happily discussing the day’s harvest before you heard. “Come on in, dragon!” Katsuki called as he remained seated on his chair smirking to himself. “Feeling better, I see?” he questioned as he sat up straight. Even like this, you could see and feel the power he irradiated.

“Yes, much, thank you.” Bowing, you smiled before you were told to stand upright. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please just let me know. It’s the least I can do after you saved my life.”

The moment those words left your mouth, you had a feeling that you were either going to live to regret it or thank him.

“Speaking of which,” he started as he leaned back and patted his lap. “Please, come here,” he commanded. Once you approached, he leaned forward, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger as if inspecting you. Up close, you could just see how deep ruby red his eyes were as well as how sharp his teeth were. For a human, he had a great set of fangs on him. ‘Shame he’s a human; he would have made a great and fierce dragon,’ you couldn’t help but think before he spoke, bringing you back to reality.

“Yes, you’re perfect,” he muttered, pulling you into his lap forcefully by your waist. “Strong willed, a fighter, and someone I could learn to grow better with,” he stated as he suddenly captured your lips. “You will be my partner,” he stated as his hands wandered low.

Spluttering and blushing, you thrust your arms at his chiseled chest, putting some distance between the two of you. “B-But how do you know? I could kill you! You barely know me,” you protested, though with his power he forced you to fold your arms, leaning in to whisper.

“But you owe me your life. Surely this is nothing and if you don’t feel like you’re the one you’re more than welcome to leave,” he purred.

You knew he was right. This young, powerful man knew that dragons didn’t back down on their word, and so serving him would mean repaying the debt? A small price to pay, truly.

“So why not get on your knees for your Chief and thank me properly?” he offered, leaning back and letting go of you. You watched as the grin on his face was almost ear splitting as you sunk to your knees in front of him. He let his hands wander down his trousers to help you get them off and down to his ankles.

“That’s it,” he praised, reaching out to gently lay his hand on your head. His eyes watched you with keen interest as you slowly took him into your mouth. He wasn’t completely hard and you shifted to get a better angle and grip him in your hands, though he tried to encourage you with soft words. “That’s it, fuckin’ take it all in,” he muttered as he leaned back, getting more comfortable on his throne. The grasp on your hair got tighter as he started to get impatient and guide your face along his length. “Come on now, no need to be so shy about it.” His teeth showed as he smiled. “You’ve lived longer than I have, surely you have the experience?” he goaded. Which, if you were honest with yourself, was true. You were most likely older than him, and could show him a thing or two while you’re at it.

Straightening your back a little from the floor you looked over his hardening dick. Licking your lips, you took the head in, using the flexibility to weave in between the head of his cock and the shaft before leaning up and taking it in as much as you could. Tongue flat, running along the thick vein underneath, you slowly bobbed your head back and forth, breathing when you could. It wasn’t long before you felt a tug with the hand that ran through your hair to pull you away from him, leaving you panting, and breathless from working so hard to please him.

His cheeks flushed a bright pink he chuckled almost as breathlessly as you, having forgotten how to breathe in the moment before letting go of your hair. “What a good girl,” he praised as he shifted back and patted his lap. “Why not come for a ride?” he questioned as he watched you stand. “I would have taken you back to my room, but I'm feeling impatient. It’s my birthday after all,” he informed, eyes hungrily watching over your form as you stripped naked, and then worked on taking off his trousers completely.

“Your birthday?” you questioned him as you straddled his lap. “I see. Perhaps this will be enough of a gift then?” you mused lining yourself up, slowly trying to sink yourself down on him.

His head slammed back against the back of his throne as he groaned. You were taking your time, though as you hadn’t prepared yourself. You knew your body could and would stretch, but it was painful to begin with. He was stretching you to your limit, but you licked your hand to reach down to let the saliva coating his dick for an easier entry only then were you able to sit down fully on his lap.

Taking a good minute or two you both sat, panting, just feeling one another as you got used to the stretch of his cock within you. His hands empassing your hips, he tried to get you to move, but you had other ideas. It was his birthday? That’s just fine, but you would make sure it would be a ride he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

You gently grasped his hands and took them off your hips to raise them above his head as you started to roll your hips back and forth. Leaning in close to kiss him and to distract him, you used your tail to wrap his hands above his head. He only just realised when you leaned back.

“W-What the fuck is—shit—the big idea?” he panted as his eyes were glued to your form, which started moving so effortlessly up and down on his dick.

“It’s your birthday. I want to spoil you, so enjoy the ride.” Chuckling a little darkly, you couldn’t help but use your wings to give you some extra momentum and power into your movements as you rode him.

He couldn't believe just how lucky he was to have such a beautiful person ride him within an inch of his life. You knew just what to do and how to please him, which, to his embarrassment, had him orgasming not much longer after you started.

“F-Fuck!” he grunted, unable to couldn’t help it when his hips met yours. Though your gut had only just started to coil with your own orgasm, much to your disappointment. You remained seated on his lap as he came down from his high, letting go of his arms.

He watched you only to frown. Noticing you hadn’t orgasmed yet he couldn’t help but feel like a teenager all over again.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all.

Growling, he forcefully lifted you up from him as he slid to the floor, getting you to sit in his seat. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you to his face and started to lap up not only at his own cum that had started to seep it’s way out from the confines of yourself, but searching for any original taste of your own essence. This surprise had you leaning over with a groan. In all your years, no other man had been so willing about doing this.

Smirking from the inside of your thighs, he knew from your expression that you were loving it or at the very least surprised by his movements. “What?” he questioned, so close to your cunt that you could feel his breath ghosting it. “Never been eaten out before?” He seemed a little too smug, as if he almost already knew the answer.

With a shake of your head, he only shifted closer and got more comfortable as he nudged your clit with his nose. “Hmm, good. I'm a man starving for pussy and it’s delicious, so don’t mind me,” he muttered before his gaze lowered.

Though his dick felt great, this was almost a thousand times better. There was no painful stretch, only a soft muscle, though not deep. The slurping and sucking sounds and sensations were what quickly brought your end. He was more than happy to guide you though your high as you remained hunched over his head, hands which you now realised were in his hair, forcing his face just that much closer.

Leaning back once you had come back to Earth, you watched him as he wiped his chin and cheeks with the back of his arm. “Thank you for the meal.” He chuckled, giving off a lopsided smile, showing off the pearly whites of his sharp teeth. He stood as he gathered up his trousers as he got dressed. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner in my home,” he stated as he turned to you and passed you back your clothes.

Slowly taking them, you nodded as you got dressed despite the shake in your legs. “Y-Yeah, I think I will,” you confirmed as you slipped back into your clothes.

“Good choice. I’m not finished with you yet, beautiful.” Leaning in, he kissed your cheek before taking his leave only to find a very flustered Eijirou waiting outside. “Something wrong?” Katsuki questioned with folded arms, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“N-No!” the dragon protested, though the redness that was spread all the way up to his ears gave him away.

“Next time, just ask. It’s rude to eavesdrop.” Katsuki laughed as he walked away, going to join the mass for dinner.

“K-Katsuki! I had to make sure you were safe! After all, she’s a rogue dragon,” Eijirou protested in earnest. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that would be something that Eijirou would very much like to do.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki took a seat at the head of the banquet table, waiting for your arrival before the festivities could begin.

755 notes · View notes

sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

you’re someone i just want around: II

“You can call me when you feel like

I’m your good time, I’ll be your temporary fix

You can own me, and we’ll call this what you like

Let me be your goodnight”

-Temporary Fix, One Direction

A/N: honestly can y’all believe @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy and i finished part 2 within a week like what kind of productive hyper fixated legends are we??? if you haven’t heard, this started as a random concept between andrea and i to discuss at 3am and then we accidentally fell in love with vampirerry and his stupid asshole ways and now we’re here!!! we really hope you like this part, and the next parts coming (which are in the works and begin to dive into harry’s tragic backstory because who doesn’t love a lil pain :)))) just a reminder that if you like this, then reblog it!! not just our work but the work of all content creators!!! and feedback is also greatly appreciated 💌

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

word count: 15.8k

content/warnings: vampire!harry laughing at a mortal not being able to open a door until he realizes his immportal ass can’t come inside, bloody good sex (literally), face f*cking, female-received oral, harry condemning stephanie meyer’s portrayal of vampires, psychological demolition of a quaint bedroom, and a cocky vampire with shitty taste in coffee

///

If Y/N can’t find her goddamn keys, she’s going to lose her mind.

Of course, she may just lose her mind anyways, given the way the handsome, tall, tattooed, and British (because of course he’s British, of fucking course) stranger whose name she can’t quite remember is smearing his lips against hers in the dim light of the hallway outside her apartment. All Y/N wants to do is pull him--Henry? Harrison? --into her apartment, into her bed, and tell him to fuck her until she can’t walk, but the stubborn lock of her door and the strangely bottomless clutch bag in her hand have other plans.

It does occur to Y/N, in a flicker of a drunken thought, that if she took a step back from the man--Hayden? --she may stand a better chance of finding the silver key ring she could swear she tossed in her bag before she left that night, but then the man’s tequila tinted mouth ghosts over hers once more, and the thought burns out completely.

“Y’alright, dove?” The man asks, his pillowy pink lips still hovering over hers as he speaks, low and soft and tantalizing. “Are you going to open the door, or do you want me to take you out here?”

A soft squeak stutters from Y/N at the lewd comment, and the brunette separates from her just enough that she can see the very corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

“Sorry.” He says, despite his voice sounding not very sorry at all. “Was that too much?”

“I--no, I just--” Y/N sucks in a deep breath to steady herself, but it backfires when traces of alcohol and his tobacco and vanilla scented cologne catch in the back of her throat. “I can’t find my keys.”

A small chuckle of mirth rolls from the stranger. “You can’t find your keys? Shall I take a look for you?”

The thought of him-- his name starts with an H, she knows it does-- poking around in her bag which, by her normal standards, is quite organized, but by regular standards, is a fucking mess, brings a heated flush to her already warm cheeks. “No, I can get them, just--” Taking another reluctant step back from him, Y/N digs her hand down into her clutch, blindly pressing her fingers into the corners until she feels the touch of cool metal. “Got them!”

“Wonderful.” The man’s irises glint in the flickering hallway light, emerald glee flashing back at Y/N’s own drunken stare. His eyes really are hypnotizing, Y/N thinks, with the way the forest shades seem to swirl around in each other, the way they seem to shine and darken over and over, how--

“Are you going to actually unlock the door, darling?” His lilting accent interrupts Y/N’s mesmerized thoughts as his hands smooth over the small of her back. “Or are we back to the idea of me taking you in the hallway?”

As more embarrassment flushes through Y/N’s body, heating every inch of her skin, she manages to shake her head quickly, the motion making her vision spin. “No, sorry, I--sorry.” She clears her throat once, the alcohol making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth. “Here--”

There’s another peal of laughter from behind her as Y/N spends a moment forcing her key into the lock of her door, having to give it an extra shove with all of her body weight before the stubborn mechanism twists and allows her to swing the door open. With a relieved sigh, Y/N steps over the threshold, noticing that the stranger’s touch has fallen away once she’s inside.

With a confused and heavy glance, Y/N regards the curly-haired boy over her shoulder, turning slowly around to see him standing just outside the step of her apartment. The hands that had just been groping every inch of her that they could get ahold of are now braced against the doorway, his tanned and inked muscles exposed beneath the sleeves of his blue t-shirt that fits him so perfectly, Y/N thinks she may faint. Although his smirk is still tugging at his lips, his eyes have shifted to definitive darkness, and his expression has become more guarded.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asks slowly, her own brows furrowing to match his own. “Aren’t you going to come in?”

The man’s eyes flash once more, and--Harry! His name is Harry, Y/N remembers, and an alleviant feeling flushes through her veins while she struggles to keep the realization off her face as Harry straightens up to appraise her properly.

As his eyes scan over Y/N’s liquor-loose body, her eyes wide, trusting, and curious, her hair tangled from Harry’s fingers mussing it, a hickey just starting to colour at the base of her neck. The spot sends a flood of venom through Harry’s mouth and he knows that it’s time. The moment that Harry dreads with each drunken club hookup has finally arrived. The moment he has to figure out a way to get whatever poor soul he’s chosen as his midnight snack to explicitly invite him into their home.

There are a lot of abilities that come with being a vampire that Harry is thankful for. The compulsion, he’d learned from his very first day in his afterlife, is one of the most useful and commonly used traits Harry possesses; after all, it’s a lot easier to take a little bite from an unsuspecting college student when you can make them forget it after. The inhuman strength, of course, and the accompanying speed was handy, but mostly used for fun more than anything else. When you barely sleep, you end up with a lot of free time, and impossible strength and speed makes for never ending wrestling matches, races, and various sporting competitions with Niall (they’d tried chess once, but Niall only lasted fifteen minutes before his attention drifted to the scent of a nighttime jogger outside the condo).

However, with all the sweetness that comes with being undead, there’s also the sour. Iron has a tendency to burn the diamond-like skin of a vampire as if they were mere humans being prodded with a white hot brand, which Harry had learned the hard way back in his early days. Stepping out into the sunlight has the same effect. While these two issues could be easily remedied by dipping an iron object into gold, or wearing a sunlight ring respectively, there’s still one downside to life after death that irks Harry every time he’s presented with it.

Like every old folklore about vampires he had ever heard growing up, Harry has to be invited inside before he can cross the threshold of someone’s home.

And, as he’d learned over the years, it has to be an explicit invitation. A beckoning of a hand or head won’t do, nor will a quiet whisper of “Follow me.” No, a resident of the home has to clearly state that they want Harry inside their space, or else he’ll be blocked from crossing under the door frame like there’s an invisible wall that only appears for him.

Given that Harry was raised in a time where proper manners were of the utmost importance, and an invitation had to be extended by a girl’s family before Harry was permitted to step onto the premises of their estate, getting this permission from someone isn’t too difficult for him. However, if his meal is a little too soaked in alcohol, pulling an invitation from their slurring mouths can sometimes prove to be a challenge.

So when Y/N asks if he’s going to come in with confusion clearly tinging her voice, Harry knows he has to play his next moments very carefully. He drops his eyelids halfway, giving her a sultry look that indicates every one of his intentions with her (at least, the ones he wants her to know about). When he answers, his voice is low and drawling, dripping with thirst disguised as need despite the careful cadence of his words. “Do you want me to come in?”

While Y/N’s blood alcohol content is a little higher than usual, she still has enough awareness in her to show her surprise at the question Harry poses.

“Do I--?” She cuts herself off to rephrase her words in an incredulous tone. Was he serious? “You literally had your tongue down my throat a minute ago, and now you’re asking if I want you to come in?”

Harry-- Y/N keeps repeating his name in her head to commit it to memory-- lifts one shoulder in a quick shrugging motion as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this,” He says, motioning between the two of them from outside the door. “Before we go any further. Spoken consent is important, too.”

If Y/N hadn’t already been ready to drop to her knees and do whatever Harry wanted, that one sentence would’ve been enough to pull the reaction from her. It takes every ounce of effort in her slightly intoxicated body to not tug his pants off right there in her doorway, and instead she takes a deep breath, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “Yes.” She tries to keep her voice as steady as she possibly can. “Yes, I want you to come in, Harry.”

The vampire’s nearly blindingly white teeth flash at her as a smile overtakes his face, and he confidently yet slowly strides into her apartment, his eyes flickering over the interior space, but keeping most of their attention trained on her.

As he steps towards her, Y/N steps backwards, leading him down the hallway, past her bathroom and small bedroom, and to the main kitchen and living area. For once, Y/N is thankful that she took the time to do a quick sweep of her apartment the day before, as she would’ve been mortified if Harry had seen her half folded laundry spread out on her couch like it normally is.

“Do you, um--” She clears her throat once as she motions to the bar cart in the corner of the room. “Do you want a drink?”

Harry can’t help the small laugh that peels from his lips. If only Y/N knew, he thinks, as he takes another step closer to her so he can grip her chin between his thumb and forefinger. From the fluttering of her eyes, stuttering of her breath, and the audible increase of blood rushing through her body, concentrating in the areas that interest him the most, Harry can tell that she likes when he displays a dominant air over her. Keeping his voice sultry to hide the growing smugness-- not completely, but enough that he doesn’t sound too cocky, Harry asks what’s meant to be a simple question. “You’re nervous. What’s got you all worked up, hm?”

Tongue unfeeling in her mouth, Y/N struggles to answer as she stumbles over her words, distracted by the feeling of Harry’s ringed thumb caressing her chin, just barely grazing her lips.

“You’re just--I--” She sucks in a quick breath, trying to push down her embarrassment as her voice emerges more breathless than before. “You’re just really hot.”

Ah, the praise. If the pleasure of swallowing down mouthful after mouthful of warm, sweet blood wasn’t Harry’s literal reason for existence, his most favourite thing in the world would be the way humans fawn over him. The beauty of a vampire is part of what lures a human in, and while Harry has foggy memories of being bashful in his human life, he’s fully transformed that part of himself in death.

“Am I?” He asks, and the snarky remark goes straight to the heat between Y/N’s thighs as he drops his face, his cool forehead pressing against her own flushed skin.

Y/N nods slowly, her nose bumping against Harry’s with every motion. “Yeah, you are. I couldn’t believe that…” Her cheeks heat again as she trails off, and it’s only the insistent tap of Harry’s fingers against her hip that make her continue. “Couldn’t believe that you were interested in me. Out of all the girls there…”

Harry uses his grip on her side to tug Y/N closer to him, despite already being only inches apart. Although her scent had hit him like a train back at the club, here, in her own apartment, the fragrance is ten times as intense. Y/N’s personal perfume of honey and lavender lingers in every breath he takes in, drifts off the couch, the throw pillows, the books on the coffee table...everything is drenched in her, and Harry almost feels drunk from it.

“Didn’t care about the others. You--” He catches himself just in time, before the words “you smelled the best” tumble from his open mouth. “You just caught my attention. You looked so shy.” That’s true enough, Harry thinks, as his hand moves from her chin to grip the opposite side of her torso tightly in his large hands. “Wanted to see if I could break through that.”

Y/N yelps softly as Harry picks her up as if she weighs no more than a dandelion picked from a field, and drops her onto the couch behind her. Although the worn fabric of the sofa is familiar, Y/N almost thinks that she should ask Harry to take her to her bedroom. And then she gets a good look at Harry standing over her with lust clouding his jade irises and his lips so red she could name a lipstick after them, and every thought of anything besides him leaves her mind.

Harry straightens his spine after he drops her on the couch, his ringed hands easily finding the buckle of his belt to yank it free from his trousers in one swift motion, letting it fall to the IKEA rug below him. His gaze flickers to lock eyes with Y/N as he fiddles with his zipper, catching and basking in the way her eyes keep falling to the movement.

He can see the neediness that’s practically dripping from her irises just as easily as tears would, and the way she catches her lip between her teeth in impatience forces Harry to bite back a groan. It’s been so long since he had someone so...so fucking delectable, not just in smell, but in their actions.

“Would you like to do it?” Harry asks the question quietly, dancing his fingers over his zipper one last time before letting go.

Y/N’s answering nod is timid, and her actions are almost trancelike as she slowly reaches towards him, but Harry catches her wrist and grips it tightly before she can reach her goal.

Giving her a stern look, he raises his voice a few decibels louder than it was. “Use your words, then, darling. Tell me.”

Harry can smell the flood between her legs as a lustful whimper falls from Y/N’s lips, the desperation that’s coursing through her veins amplifying with every passing moment.

“I want to--” She nearly stutters over the words, and takes a moment to collect herself before continuing in a more self-assured voice. “I want to undress you.”

Harry’s responding smile is so big that, if she weren’t slightly intoxicated, and if there was more than just the light of one lamp illuminating the pair, Y/N might have noticed the sinister glint of his teeth.

“Good girl.” His voice is as smooth as molasses when he praises her. “Go ahead.”

Although her hands are clumsy, Y/N manages to work around the button and zipper of his pants until she can ease the fabric down his legs, her desperation only growing as his boxers-- and the clear outline of his hardening cock-- become visible. The erotic sight pulls a quiet but defined gasp from Y/N as she drags her index finger over the bulge, too entranced in her own actions to catch the way Harry’s eyes roll back into his head at the sensation.

“Oh.” With her heart thumping in her chest, Y/N finally raises her eyes to his. “You’re-- you’re so big, Harry…”

“Is that a problem?” Despite knowing that it isn’t-- and has never been before-- Harry still asks the question, wanting to extract as much praise from the mortal girl as he can before the night is over. He’s always had a bit of a praise kink, adoring the way humans adored him, but there’s something about the voice of the girl in front of him that makes the compliments sound sugar-coated in the best way.

Y/N’s response is so quick and sharp that it almost pulls a laugh from Harry’s chest.

“No.” She insists immediately, giving a rough shake of her head. “No, absolutely not.”

The sides of Harry’s kiss-swollen lips twitch arrogantly, but the next words he speaks are genuine. Although he’s a lot of things, certainly, a careless lover is not one of them.

“If it gets to be too much…” He brings a ringed hand to caress Y/N’s hair, his eyes softening for just a moment. “Don’t hesitate to tell me. I don’t want to do anything if it doesn’t make you feel just as good as it makes me feel.”

And with those words, that same desperation that Y/N had felt when he asked if he could come inside earlier reignites in her belly. It had never gone out, true, but it had dulled to a dim spark for just a moment, yet with the fanning of Harry’s latest words, exploded into a renewed bonfire deep inside her.

“God, I can’t believe you’re real.” Y/N half mutters the words to herself as she scoots towards the edge of the sofa, knees bumping against the front of Harry’s bare calves as he takes a step forward.

With his ring-clad fingers still carding through her hair, Harry guides the girl’s head closer to the tent in his briefs, biting back a chuckle at her comment. God has nothing to do with it.

“I’m real.” He murmurs in a sweet tone. “And now that you know that...what are you going to do?”

Y/N looks up at him through heavy lashes, pressing her trembling lips to the crest of his exposed belly button as a response, dragging damp kisses down his happy trail as she tugs his underwear down his deliciously thick thighs.

“Fuck, that’s it…” The words are strained when they leave Harry’s mouth with a feathery moan, his head throwing back in bliss as he enjoys the teasing actions.

This is always one of his favourite moments, he thinks. The moment his flings-- his girls, as he sometimes affectionately thinks of them, or his boys-- get their lips around him for the first time. Just as mortals fawn over his appearance, they worship his naked body, and his pulsing cock is no exception to that rule. All of his lovers show an eagerness to please him, and Y/N is no different.

When Harry looks back on this moment six months down the road, he’ll curse himself for thinking something so naive, and for believing that Y/N really was no different than anyone else, especially when her smell alone was already enough to send him into a frenzy. But right now, in this moment, she’s just doing exactly what he wants her to. And that’s what he needs.

Y/N slowly wraps her hand around his girth, unable to meet her fingers in the middle as she slowly begins to stroke him.

“You’re so…” She searches her (less, but still a bit) inebriated mind for the right word. Despite hardly having been touched by Harry, her voice is already wrecked. “So pretty.”

The innocuous adjective catches Harry by surprise, but only for a moment before he tugs her hair lightly, stocking the new compliment in the back of his mind for later reflection.

“Give it a little kiss, baby.” He murmurs, the cadence of his voice equal parts soft and dominant. “Show me how pretty you think it is, yeah?”

The request sends a shiver down Y/N’s spine as she complies, watching Harry through thick lashes as she leans forward with lips puckered, gently pressing them to the red and leaking tip of his cock. Another strained moan rolls from his lips as her tongue darts out to carefully collect the precum gathering at his slit.

“That’s a good girl…” The praise that leaves Harry’s mouth is breathless, half whispered as he wraps her hair around his wrist and pulls her forward. “Y’can take a bit more now, dove. C’mon.”

Y/N gingerly takes the head of his cock into her mouth, the underside of his length catching on her bottom lip and earning an elongated hiss from Harry. His own eyes are fluttering as he watches her rub the textured surface of her tongue over him, mewling softly as the taste of his warm precum invades her senses.

The vibrations from the sound of pleasure makes the whites of Harry’s half lidded eyes momentarily tinge blood red as the sensation pinballs up his spine, causing his grip on her roots to tighten. Harry sucks in a deep breath, waiting until he knows his eyes have returned to a more human-like state before drawing her attention back to him as he speaks.

“You look so cute like that.” He coos admiringly, the pads of his fingers careful in massaging her scalp without tangling strands of her hair in his rings. “Y’look like a proper angel with those soft lips wrapped around my cock.”

The filthy comment stokes the fire churning in the pit of Y/N’s stomach as she blinks tears from her eyes. With a stuttering inhale, she tries to carve out a mental foothold in her mind, something to stop her from completely falling into the tension of the atmosphere.

“You taste really good.” She finally whimpers after a moment, the sentence spoken around his prick before she draws him from her mouth. Y/N can see the way Harry’s eyes are glued to the string of saliva connecting his length to her lips, and the uninhibited lustful look almost sends her spiraling completely. Pressing tender kisses up and down his extent, she begins to rub her silky lips along the prominent vein that stretches from his base to the tip.

If she’s going to succumb to the tension, she wants Harry right there beside her.

And from what she can tell, he is. Garbled moans are tearing from his mouth over and over, his large cock twitching within her grasp. When he speaks again, his voice is further from honey than it’s ever been.

“Christ, you’re such a dirty little thing.” Harry growls, raking his hands through her hair once more. “So excited to please, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Y/N whispers the words as she continues to smear kisses along his length, just enough to tease him, but not enough to push him over the edge. There’s a feeling of intense desire rising inside her, not just for her own pleasure, but for his pleasure as well. It’s a new feeling, quite unfamiliar inside her, but then again, why wouldn’t it be? She’s never met anyone like Harry before. She’s never lifted her head to look someone in the eye with their cock at her lips and been so mesmerized by the image of their swollen lips tugged between their teeth, dark eyes hooded with want as they stare back down at her. It’s completely new, and completely everything she’d ever needed.

“Take more, baby. Know you can.” Harry’s words are still growled as he grasps the base of his cock in his large hand, directing it towards her mouth, but pausing just outside of her lips. For a moment, Y/N wonders why he won’t continue, but the quick quirk of his eyebrow raising makes her realize that he’s doing exactly what he did earlier in her doorway.

He’s waiting for an invitation.

A whimpering noise falls out when Y/N opens her mouth wide for him, flattening her tongue and extending it just past her lips so that the textured surface will slide along his expanse as he pushes into her mouth.

A crease appears between Harry’s eyebrows as his face contorts in bliss. “That’s it, darling. Show me how well you suck cock.”

Y/N hums around his length, lifting her hand to replace Harry’s grip, but he grasps her wrist before she can accomplish the task, pushing her hand back down to her thigh and flattening it against the fabric of her pants.

“No hands.” Harry rasps, eyes glinting with dominance. “Just that pretty mouth.”

Despite her vulnerable position, Y/N manages to give half a nod, closing her watering eyes as Harry continues to dive deeper down her throat. She feels the cool touch of his ringed hand against her bulging cheek, his thumb rubbing over the apple of her bone structure in a tender motion that contrasts their actions.

“Look at me.” Harry beckons her gently, but keeps a command in the tone of his voice. When Y/N’s eyes flicker open again, he directs her gaze up to his own as his jade eyes flash darker, pupils dilating ever so slightly.

Despite his very existence being unethical by nature of what he is, Harry doesn’t use compulsion on his partners inside the bedroom (or living room, or car, or wherever else he takes someone for a quick fuck and a bite to eat); he may be a monster, but he’s not a monster. And his mother raised him better than that, even if she didn’t remember doing so. No, if Harry is going to be engaging in a sexual act with anyone, it’ll be something that both parties have consented to while in their right minds.

That being said, he does use his power slightly just to encourage those he spends his nights with to be as honest and free as they’ve ever wanted to be. Meals taste best, he’s found, when his main courses have fully relaxed and unwinded, and Harry is a man-- well, not quite a man, but a being-- of fair play; if he’s going to be taking something from his partners, then he wants them to take something from him, as well. And sometimes humans need a little push to do so.

“You’re going to let go of your inhibitions tonight, do you understand?” Harry speaks in a soothing tone, his voice like a lullaby as he strokes his thumb against Y/N’s skin. “You’re going to do anything you’ve ever wanted to, but been too scared to speak out loud.”

Y/N blinks up at him as her heavy eyelids lift, her own pupils expanding slightly to match his own as Harry’s gentle influence washes over her. Her head jerks in a small nod of agreement, showing the understanding that she can’t quite speak in this position.

Harry rubs over the obvious bulge in her cheek, an imprint of his cock inside her warm mouth. The longer he rests inside her, the more his chest heaves as waves of pleasure begin to lap at the trench of his stomach. The sensation is distracting, and he refocuses himself more intently as a familiar prickling washes across the backs of his eyes. If he doesn’t keep himself in check, his words will be more powerful than he means them to be, and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Don’t be nervous or scared. I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.” He continues the speech that he has memorized from how often he’s used it during one night stands, keeping his voice light and level. “You can trust me. Do whatever it is you want, and nothing you don’t. You’re safe with me.”

Y/N nods again, the action softer and fainter than it had been before. Harry can practically see the tension releasing from her shoulders. He drags a ringed knuckle across her cheekbone, admiring the sheen of tears gathering on her waterline as a result of his sheer girth.

“What is it you want then, darling?” He asks cooly, pulling back just a tad to give her enough relief to talk around his prick.

Harry watches as Y/N wrings her hands against her thighs, thinking her words through carefully and deliberately as her lashes flutter at the relaxing sensation of him caressing her heated skin. When she speaks, all previous timidness and hesitation is gone from her voice, replaced with unwavering desire that sends a shockwave down Harry’s spine.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Y/N sounds so sure of herself, so desperate at the request, that Harry almost grips her head and snaps his hips forward the moment the words leave her mouth. However, years of control and restraint squash that instinct before he can even consider giving into it. Instead, he merely pauses his motions as he contemplates the mortal in front of him, reevaluating the girl he had thought would be bashful and reserved for what seems to be the thousandth time that night.

At the pause in his actions, Y/N’s brows pinch and she stares up at Harry with a confused and almost wounded look, eyelids fluttering as if she’s worried that her blunt request had done something to upset him. Harry, remembering the promise he had just made a moment ago, resumes his reassuring motions against her cheek, not speaking again until he feels the human unwind once more.

Once Y/N is leaning into him again, Harry asks the question that’s been spinning in his mind since she first spoke.

“Have you ever had anyone fuck your mouth before?” He asks curiously, despite being certain he already knows the answer.

Y/N rubs her palms flat over her thighs slowly as she gives the predicted answer in a quiet voice. “No. Never.”

“But you want me to do it.” Although his words indicate a question, Harry phrases it like a statement. He wants her to say it again, he realizes, closing his eyes as he revels in the feeling of her tongue massaging the head of his cock. He needs to hear her say it again.

Y/N complies to his unspoken want. “Yes.” She mumbles around him, and the concentration needed to keep her hands pressed to her lap is apparent all over her face. “I want to make you feel good.”

The pounding of Y/N’s heart is so loud that its thump echoes in Harry’s ears. He can see the pulse of her carotid artery in her strained neck, a warm and real reminder that this girl is alive and burning with need for him. Harry lets out a low moan as his mouth begins to fill with venom once again, watering as if he were a human presented with his favourite meal. Without thinking, he lets his fingers drift from her cheek to her neck, feeling the heated hammering rhythm beneath the icy pads.

All Harry wants to do is take a bite, and his fangs ache at the very thought of sinking his teeth into the young woman’s soft flesh, but he knows he has to restrain himself. She’ll taste so much sweeter post-orgasm, after oxytocin is flowing through her veins, deepening her flavour.

“Alright.” Harry gathers himself as he draws his hand from Y/N’s neck, returning his touch to her chin so she’ll look at him again as his voice takes on a persuasive tone (without adding compulsion-- Harry needs her to be completely aware of her actions). “Keep your hands pressed flat to your thighs. And keep your mouth and throat as open as you can, is that understood?”

Y/N gives a small nod, her jaw starting to ache around Harry’s cock in the most fulfilling fashion. Nerves are beginning to set in again, and she can’t help the shiver that tumbles down her spine and settles in her hands as she tightens them to her legs.

Harry frowns ever so slightly at the change in her demeanor. “You’re alright, pet. You know that, don’t you?” He asks, letting his voice shift to a more tender tone for just a moment. “Let yourself let go. I’ll take good care of you.”

With the calming aspect of Harry’s promise ringing in her ears, quieting the pounding of her own heart that echoes in her head like a drum, Y/N follows his suggestions. The young woman takes a deep breath through her nose to focus herself, and she’s so caught up in the moment— in the way he tastes and feels in her mouth, salty and velvety smooth— that she vaguely wonders how she’ll manage to move at all.

Nevertheless, with the help of Harry’s thumb gliding over her chin in reassurance, Y/N begins to bend to his will, her slightly aching jaw relaxing and shoulders unknotting. Gazing up at him with pliant and moony eyes, she waits for her next set of instructions. She has little experience with this ground— save a few porno videos she’d perused out of curiosity— and for some odd reason, she feels that she can put faith in him to guide her through it.

As if he can sense what she’s waiting for, Harry speaks with a voice that floats through the air softly, thick like syrup and just as appetizing. “Lean back against the couch.”

Y/N does so immediately, slumping into the cushions while making sure to keep her back somewhat straight. Her head rests against the surface, more comfortable than she expected to be (perhaps she’d have to leave that as a review on IKEA’s website; “If you’re interested in getting your face fucked by a stranger you met in a club, this couch is perfect!”) as Harry climbs over her, balancing his knees on either sides of her hips. He’s careful not to rest any weight on Y/N, just as he’s careful to grip the hair along the crown of her head securely, but not roughly. Despite his most basic instincts, he refuses to be rough unless she explicitly asks for it.

Going against his default behavior, Harry finds out with every passing second, is easier said than done. It takes every fiber of his being to internally talk himself into being patient as he watches the mortal lap at his cock with a form of drunken need, the tiny whines escaping the back of her throat only increasing his fervor. With a care that’s only developed over centuries, Harry gradually works his hips forward, sinking deeper into her mouth inch by inch, his half-lidded eyes watching every twitch and flicker of her expression to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries.

“S’that alright?” His tone holds the weight of the intense control he’s roping around himself, which tightens with every moan-induced vibration he feels around his length.

Y/N responds with an eager bob of her head, a broken mewl, muffled by his cock, encouraging him to go further.

Harry abides, holding her in place by her locks of hair and slowly sliding his hips forward until the base of his cock taps against her wet chin. His free hand rests beside her ear, twisting the navy blue couch cushion into his fist. It’s the only way to keep himself sane, he thinks, especially with how Y/N is ogling up at him with those big innocent eyes, swirling with alcohol yet still so clear, the skin of her cheeks boiling with heated blood as breaths falter past her nostrils.

The sight of the human girl so open and ready for him would have stopped Harry’s heart if it had a beat.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Harry gets a sudden urge and can’t stop himself from leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the center of her sweaty forehead, right between her brows. Given the nature of his other urges, a tender kiss is one he can let slide. “I’m going to leave your throat so fucking sore.”

The gentle action contrasted with his sinful promise pulls another whine from Y/N’s mouth, quiet and soft and so inaudible that if Harry were human, he might not hear it. And what a shame that would be, he sighs internally, as he tightens his vice-like grasp on her couch cushions, reminding himself not to rip the fragile fabric as he clenches his fist.

Harry holds himself there for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her wet and warm throat contracting around him. Y/N’s eyes, which were watering even before she opened herself up like this, release a small salty tear that traces down her cheekbone. Harry releases a hand’s grip on the couch to wipe the teardrop away with a ringed knuckle. Curiosity is what makes him bring the digit to his mouth, letting his tongue lick off the saline droplet.

It’s a strange flavour, Harry decides as he retracts his finger from his mouth. Salty, yes, but there’s a hint of the same underlying flavours that run through blood, depending on someone’s emotional state. It’s rather refreshing.

Not letting himself waste anymore time on thinking about anything except the girl in front of him, Harry shakes himself from his internal thoughts.

“Hold yourself right there for me, darling.” He says lowly before slowly retracting his hips, watching as his spit-slick cock slips from Y/N’s red lips, her lipstick smudged and faded. He keeps pulling back until just the tip rests on her tongue, and he lets himself enjoy the sight for a moment before he begins to thrust forward again. Repeating the same motion a few times, Harry takes careful and measured breaths through his nose before increasing his speed.

Y/N keeps her damp eyes on Harry with every move of his torso, staying as open for him as he requested. The obedience, trust, and desire written all over her face drives Harry mad.

“That’s— fuck, that’s perfect.” His voice drops lower, the tone smooth as liquid silk while he snaps his hips forward again. “Stay just like that for me, yeah? Like a proper good girl.”

There’s something about the simple praise that incites a craving deep in Y/N’s stomach. As Harry bulges in her throat over and over, her eyes roll back into her head at the foreign yet entirely pleasurable experience, and her insides burn with the sensation of him using her. There’s just something so satisfying about feeling him ram into her mouth, the crescent above her upper lip catching on the bristly hairs that sprinkle in a line down the center of his abdomen. Her nose nudges against the trough of his belly button repeatedly, the picture of his jolting fern tattoos— which she hadn’t even noticed until he was down her throat— becoming blurrier with every slam forward.

Harry doesn’t cap his noises of bliss either, and allows vulgar curses and grunts to slip down his tongue freely. Through a clenched jaw and bared teeth, he pants about how well she’s doing and how good she’s taking it, feeding the boiling satisfaction in her veins. She wants to please him. She needs to please him.

“God, look at you.” He begins tugging and pushing her head to match his thrusts, his fangs poking along the inside of his bottom lip as he feels how strong her heart is beating. He can feel the thundering pulse through her mouth, stringing right up his prick and deepening the thirst burning along the back of his tongue. “Taking that cock and loving every single bit of it. You like this? Like it when I use that pretty little mouth to make myself feel good?”

Y/N chokes out a shattered whimper of agreement, sniffling a gasp when his pace speeds up a smidge.

“Fucking hell, you’re filthy. S’always the quiet ones, isn’t it?” Harry rasps, the words flowing from his flushed mouth as he sucks in breaths between phrases.

Although his rings dig into her scalp, Y/N doesn’t alert him of it. If anything, she enjoys the minimal flare of pain the action brings, almost as much as she enjoys the way he gazes down at her with an open-mouthed simper, electricity coursing through the specks of gold around his pupils, head bobbing back and forth along to his steady stride.

“Shy girls like you are just nervous to say what they really want until the right person comes along. Isn’t that right, baby?” Harry can’t help the filthy exclamations spitting from his mouth, and he doesn’t want to. From his first remark, Y/N was hooked on every dirty claim, and if she wants to hear more, who is he to rob her of that? “You were just sitting there all prim and proper, waiting to find someone who could give you what you wanted. Someone who isn’t afraid to fuck you how you like it.”

Y/N’s hands tighten into loose fists in her lap, itching to grab onto the plushness of his hips and drag her fingers up his lean stomach, to feel it contract beneath her fingertips as Harry chases his high. And Harry can see her intention, any pleading she’d normally vocalize funneling into her watery eyes. The way she’s silently begging him to allow her to touch him is bound to dismantle him quickly. Too quickly, if he doesn’t keep himself on track.

Of course, there’s a voice in the back of Harry’s head, his most repressed instinct, telling him to do just that. The voice tells him to quicken his thrusts, push himself down Y/N’s throat as deep as he can, and release in her mouth before lifting her like a rag doll and biting into her neck to satiate the thirst that’s been burning in the back of his throat since he first caught her scent at the bar. But Harry suppresses that instinct far back down inside himself once again before slowly removing his cock from Y/N’s mouth. If he’s going to cum, he wants it to be inside her. It has to be inside of her. And he doesn’t want to be done just yet.

The moment Harry’s prick slips out of her mouth, Y/N gasps, drool slipping from the corner of her lips like the tears from her eyes. Despite her wrecked appearance and the soreness beginning to ache in the back of her throat, there’s a whine of displeasure mixed with her gasps as her glossy eyes track Harry’s movements. “Where—where are you going?”

The human girl’s eagerness for him brings a small yet pleased smile to Harry’s face, and he lets one chilly hand rest on her heated cheek as he climbs down from his position on the couch.

“There’s so much more for us to do tonight, angel.” An amused chuckle sounds from his throat as he straightens himself up. “Did you really think a quick blowie was all I wanted from you?”

Y/N wipes the edge of her mouth, smearing whatever lipstick had been left on her skin after Harry finished. “I would hope not.” She murmurs truthfully, managing to raise her brows in judgement. While she’d normally never sass somebody that easily, especially someone she barely knows, she feels that it’s acceptable given that this stranger had been shoved down her throat moments ago, spewing explicit comments about her without a single issue.

Y/N’s cheeks burn as Harry’s crude words from before run through her mind like an audio recording. She definitely has the right to sass him.

The way Harry grips her tired jaw firmly, however, tilting her chin upwards while leaning down to ghost his cherry lips over her own swollen pair, has her rethinking that within seconds.

Y/N knows that she should be embarrassed that all it takes is a touch to her chin and one kiss to send her back into a submissive state, but she can’t bring herself to care in the moment, especially as a few rogue curls fall across Harry’s forehead and frame the edges of his face. The stray strands give the dominant man a less intimidating appearance. Just less intense, Y/N thinks. Maybe even soft. She’d gotten so caught up in the whirlwind of dirty promises and brazen actions that she had failed to notice that the young man before her is exactly that— a young man. A young man with wild eyes, a strong grip, and a stern hold on her within just a few hours of meeting. But even with the reminder that Harry is around her age, Y/N can see that he carries himself with the confidence and persona of someone much older, hinting that he has much more experience than any normal adult in their twenties would have.

The possibility of where his extensive expertise and skills could apply to makes her stomach flutter.

Y/N thinks she might get lost in the feeling, until a tiny shot of pain snaps her out of her head. Her bottom lip throbs between Harry’s teeth after he’s captured it, his nose smudging along the bridge of her own, a messy action that he somehow makes thoughtful and concise. His eyes are the color of a forest at midnight, and when he speaks, his tone comes out even, yet commanding and assured in the most attractive sense.

“Take off your clothes.”

The order sends a rush of heat to Y/N’s core as her half-lidded eyes flutter, and she feels a pull in her to comply as Harry releases her lip from his teeth. Her hands reach for the hem of her blouse that’s already half-untucked from Harry’s wandering touch, but she pauses, fingers still gripping the sheer fabric.

“Will you—?” Y/N cuts herself off abruptly, tongue licking over the sting in her lip as she rephrases her speech. “I want you to help me.”

The simple request knocks the breath from Harry’s lungs so fast that he’s lucky he doesn’t actually need it to function. It takes him a moment to center himself enough so that he can suck in sharp breath to regain his dominance.

“Do you?” Harry does his best to keep his voice steady as he kinks a brow and leans back from Y/N, strong hands replacing her own at the hem of her shirt. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he pulls her hold away, his fingers resting just over her racing pulse point. “Let go, then. Arms up.”

Once Y/N’s arms are in the air, Harry has no trouble removing her shirt, tossing the delicate fabric to the side before working his fingers around to the band of her pink lace bra. The scent of Y/N’s heated skin is too much for him to resist, all lavender and liquor, and he begins to pepper kisses along her collarbones and neck, making sure his teeth are hidden behind his pillowy lips. The task is easier said than done, especially when Harry can feel the human’s heartbeat throb beneath his touch, but he manages to restrain himself from taking a bite. It’ll come in due time, he knows it. His thirst will be handled, Y/N just needs to be taken care of first.

With another flick of his hand, Y/N’s bra joins her shirt in a puddle on the floor. Now that there are no barriers between Harry and her soft, supple skin, his hands travel to her bare chest, cupping and tweaking and massaging, pulling every sound imaginable out of Y/N as he touches her.

“Harry, I—“ Y/N can barely form a sentence as Harry synchronizes a wet kiss on her neck and a quick tug on her nipple, his lips smirked against her skin. “Oh...”

“What’s the matter, love?” The breathless, incoherent moans leaving Y/N’s mouth make Harry’s smirk widen. “Cat got your tongue?”

Despite the warmth rising to Y/N’s cheeks, she manages to sound indignant as she shoots Harry as much of a glare as she can muster with his hands on her breasts. “Shut up.”

Harry hums in response, sending vibrations down the length of Y/N’s throat. “Mm. I suppose I could use my mouth for something else…”

It’s almost comical how quickly Y/N’s heart rate increases at that comment. It would be comical, Harry thinks, if the pulsing of her neck didn’t excite Harry’s cock the way it does. As much as he pretends otherwise, he needs this as much as she does. Even more, if the dull ache running down the back of his jugular is any indication.

The vampire detaches his mouth from the girl’s neck, promising himself he’ll return there later once he’s properly prepared his dinner. While Y/N’s sweet-smelling blood is his main course of the night, he still has an appetizer sitting in front of him that he has yet to taste.

Harry’s shirt quickly joins the growing stack of clothing on the floor before his trousers do. He allows himself one ghost of a stroke on his cock, still slick with Y/N’s spit, but only to tease himself.

“Lay back down.” He demands, tucking himself back in his boxers before getting to his knees. Y/N watches the movement with hungry eyes, lip trapped beneath her own teeth just as Harry had done a few minutes ago.

“C’mon, love, don’t stop behaving now.” Harry chides her, smoothing his ringed hands over the fabric of her flowy pants before finding the button. “Lay down.”

At the repeat of the command, Y/N obeys him, wordlessly lifting her hips so Harry can tug down her now unbuttoned bottoms. He only gets the material halfway down her thighs before her scent hits him like a fucking truck, and then any semblance of rational thought leaves Harry’s mind completely.

If Y/N’s blood is a finely aged wine with notes of lavender and honey scattered throughout its bouquet, something that deserves to be sipped out of a fine crystal goblet and worshipped, then what lies between Y/N’s thighs is the most delectable tequila Harry has ever had the pleasure of tasting in his two hundred years, her signature honey scent still detectable beneath it all.

Harry’s hands are almost a blur as he reaches back up and hooks his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, tugging them down to meet the waist of her bottoms before pulling both articles off completely and throwing them to the side. He parts her legs just as quickly, and before Y/N can even say anything, his mouth is against her core, sedating his need the only way he can at this moment.

“Oh--!” A squeak of surprise falls from Y/N’s lips as one hand finds Harry’s curls, twisting into them tightly as her other finds her own hair. With her eyes falling closed, she misses the crimson hue that flashes through Harry’s emerald irises with every moan.

Harry’s control is beginning to slip, and he knows that. It would be frustrating, honestly, if it didn’t feel so fucking good. It’s been so long since he’s felt so feral for someone, so desperate— truly desperate— to press himself as close as possible to them, to lap up anything they’ll give him, and that’s all he wants to do right now. Harry’s nose nudges against Y/N’s clit, pulling another searing mewl from her throat as his tongue darts into her entrance. Every one of his heightened senses is filled with Y/N, consumed with every inch of her; her fragrance fogs his mind, her taste coats his tongue, and her soft thighs dimple beneath his grip that keeps her spread. The sensation of her hands tugging at his hair is the only thing keeping him grounded.

Flicking his tongue over her clit once more, Harry revels in the broken sounds spilling from above, audible proof that he’s making her fall apart with his mouth just as much as she did to him. It brings a sense of pride to Harry’s chest-- he doesn’t just take from his partners. He gives in return.

“H-Harry--” Y/N pants his name in a shattered voice, her face screwed up in pleasure as she drags her hand from her hair to her chest, gripping her own breasts in her palm as her chest heaves.

It’s not as though Y/N hasn’t had her fair share of sex, and she’s most certainly had someone go down on her before. The problem, she just manages to think as Harry suctions his lips over her clit, is that it’s never felt like this before.

In this moment, with Harry’s mouth working over her as if she was his last meal, Y/N would give up everything to memorize the sight and sensation of this man on his knees for her. Everything, from the filthy noises that slip from his mouth between movements, to the way his irises darken with every passing moment, indicates that Harry is just as into that scenario as she is. And that’s what it is, really. What sets Harry apart from anyone else she’s ever had. Any other man that’s gone down on her has treated it like a chore, while Harry—

“You’re fucking delectable, y’know that?” He rasps, the vibrations of his words rolling over her core with every phrase. “Like dessert. The sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Y/N drags her hand back up to her mouth, wedging her index finger between her teeth to stifle the borderline embarrassing moans threatening to overflow. “I’m—I’m so close, Harry...you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Mhmm.” Harry hums against her clit in agreement, stroking his tongue along her dripping opening once more before pulling away. “But not right now. You’re going to cum around my cock.”

Although Harry makes it sound like he’s teasing her, taunting her by holding her orgasm off until the very last second, he knows the truth: if Y/N were to cum right now, if her body were to shudder and give into every request Harry’s tongue is pulling from her, then Harry wouldn’t be able to take it. If Y/N were to cum with his head still buried between her thighs, it would only be a fraction of a second before Harry’s teeth would be buried in them instead.

Restraint, he tells himself as he slowly rises from his knees, reaching for Y/N’s face and gripping her cheeks in one hand as he steals a rough kiss from her supple lips. Restraint. Everything will come in due time.

“Wait—” Y/N makes a sound of protest as she falls back from the kiss. Although it’s a struggle for her to form a functioning and coherent thought, she needs to do it. “I— are you clean?”

Harry cocks his head to the side, the blunt and laughable response of “I’m dead, darling.” hanging on the tip of his tongue. He should add that to his list of vampire perks, he thinks. He already caught the worst thing anyone can catch— death— which means STDs and pregnancy scares are the furthest thing from his mind during sex.

Instead of that complicated answer, however, Harry opts for something simpler.

“Yes. Scout’s honour.” He assures her with a quick nod of his head. For the sake of appearances, he poses a question back to her. “What about you? Are you on birth control?”

A flash of relief lights up Y/N’s eyes. “Mhmm. And I’m on the pill, so…” Her cheeks burn beneath Harry’s touch. “We’re, um, we’re good to go.”

A choked laugh sounds from Harry’s throat as he shakes his head, smudging another kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. “We’re good to go, are we? I’m glad to hear it.”

All of his teasing is for one purpose and one purpose only: to hear Y/N’s heartbeat spike in intensity and speed. When his comment easily receives the desired reaction, Harry brushes his fingers along the girl’s pulse point as he drifts his lips to her ear, grazing the cartilage with his teeth.

“Bend over.” He murmurs, accent thick as it rings in her ear. “I want you on your hand and knees for me.”

Y/N grips his tattooed shoulder tightly in her hands, kissing him one more time before obeying the directions offered. It takes her a moment to turn over on the couch and situate herself comfortably on her knees, bracing her hands on the back of the cushion as Harry’s strong grip finds her hips.

“You have the prettiest arse.” He smooths his hands over her backside as he speaks, admiring the softness of her skin beneath his calloused palms. “You’d look so pretty covered in marks, wouldn’t you?”

“I-I think so.” Y/N agrees breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder at the wild look in Harry’s eyes. He winks at her when he catches her gaze, tapping his fingers against her lower backside before spreading her legs apart more.

“Don’t worry, love. Won’t be doing that to you tonight. Don’t have the patience, honestly.” Harry keeps his tone casual, which is a miracle, Y/N thinks, considering he’s completely stripped himself and is stroking his hard cock as he speaks. The cadence of his voice in contrast with his actions makes her shiver, and the anticipation only crescendos when Harry rubs the tip of his prick against her soaked slit.

“‘M going to start, alright?” Harry’s voice is tight, and he’s barely able to wait for a sound of acknowledgement from Y/N before he begins to part her folds with his cock.

The relief is simultaneously instantaneous and completely out of reach. Yes, the wet and burning heat of her walls squeezing him satisfies the deep pulsing in the pit of his stomach, but it does nothing for the dry heat in the back of his throat. If anything, being so close to her is only a reminder of what he really, truly needs.

Harry forces himself to thrust slowly, to exercise the control he’s usually so good at displaying. Patience, he repeats to himself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Focus on what’s happening in the moment.

And then he bottoms out, his pelvis pressing flat against Y/N’s soft flesh as her spongy walls squeeze him. Y/N lets out a moan so filthy that Harry’s knees buckle and every ounce of restraint disappears from his body.

“Fucking hell--” His voice doesn’t even sound his own as he digs the pads of his fingers into Y/N’s hips, surely leaving bruises that will blossom before the sun rises. He begins to quicken his thrusts as the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, accompanied by the whimpers echoing from Y/N’s lips and the grunts falling from his own. With every stroke, Y/N’s fragrance fills the air more and more, pulling him further into a cloud of lust and hunger with every ragged breath he sucks through gritted teeth. When he sees the throbbing of Y/N’s veins in her neck, flashing at him like a signal, teasing him to the point of no return, Harry’s instincts grow louder, overshadowing any ounce of control he has left.

He grips the girl’s shoulder roughly, tugging her body up from its bent position to press flat against his sweaty inked chest. Once she’s in the desired position, Harry’s hand travels to her neck, squeezing just enough to win a choked moan from Y/N’s lips.

“Fuck, Harry--” She whines breathlessly, arching her back as she reaches to tangle her own fingers in his knotted curls. Her harsh tug pulls another groan from Harry’s swollen lips as they hover just over her neck, brushing against her hot skin with every ram. Her smell is so intoxicating, he could just--

And then he feels Y/N’s own lips on his neck and his senses overwhelm.

Even before Harry was turned, he had been a creature centered around touch. Of course, in the 1800s, touch was something that was fairly forbidden between anyone who was less than married, save for a rare dance at a ball with a beautiful girl. The first time Harry had been touched in this way, it had been by a young woman he has since tried so hard to block out of his memory. It had set his skin on fire, a feeling that never quite went away, even after her fingers had left his wrist that very first day. It was like she’d left an imprint on him, a candle burning in the window of his heart so that she’d be able to find her way back whenever she wanted to. And then her last touch had burned him more than he ever thought possible. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the whitehot pain as she cradled his head between her palms, still hear her soft, accented voice in his ear, reassuring him that everything would be alright, the sick sound of his own neck snapping--

He just doesn’t let people touch him there. Ever.

Harry’s hand tightens around Y/N’s throat, just for a moment, before guiding her kisses from the sensitive area to his collarbones. The memory still seems just as fresh and poignant in his mind as the day it happened, with time healing nothing, and Harry has to remind himself that he’s not that person anymore. He’s different now. He’s the one in control.

“I’m close, Harry--” Y/N’s sweet voice is a welcome reminder of where he is, cutting through his thoughts like a bird song cuts through a quiet morning. “Shit, I’m so close.”

“I know.” Harry growls the words into her ear as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses along her jugular. He can smell it on her, how her blood is sweetening with every passing moment, like a fruit ripening for picking. “Cum for me, pet. C’mon. Y’can let go.”

Y/N takes his words to heart, throwing her head back onto Harry’s muscled shoulder as her orgasm builds to its peak. Harry can feel it-- how she contracts around him, how her juices drip down his cock and onto his thighs, how her pulse quickens beneath his lips.

And then Y/N cries out as she falls over the edge, Harry’s self control crumbling the moment he feels it, and the vampire sinks his teeth into the supple flesh of the mortal’s neck.

Y/N’s cry of surprise quickly turns into a moan as Harry’s venom begins to race through her bloodstream, the chemical hormones calming and sedating her in order to allow him to drink as much as he’d like. Normally, Harry waits until his partners are fast asleep, tired from their activities, but Y/N’s scent is so overpowering and consuming that, honestly, it’s a wonder he’s managed to keep himself together this long. And the moment Y/N’s blood washes over his tongue, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be so controlled again.

There are flavours that he predicted: honey, lavender, vanilla, a hint of the alcohol she poured back earlier, all sugared by the orgasm currently coursing through her body. But there’s something else underneath, too. A depth of flavour that he can’t quite place. Something he’s never experienced before. From the first taste, Harry knows he’s hooked. Every drink he’s had before this moment has paled in comparison, and he knows he’ll spend the rest of his life combing the Earth before he finds another that could match .

“H-Harry…” A gentle whimper falls from Y/N’s mouth as the waves of her climax finally recede. “Feels so good.”

Harry hums against her skin as he quickens his thrusts. As satisfying as drinking from the young woman is, now that his thirst is somewhat quenched, the need for his own orgasm increases.

“You’re gonna make me cum, y’know that?” Harry breathes against her skin, sucking one last gulp down before running his tongue over the bite. He’ll properly heal her once she’s asleep, but for now, the venom will form a temporary seal over the bite. And, honestly, Y/N appears to be too caught up in her own pleasure to notice the new mark on her neck. “Squeezing me so fucking tight...taking my cock like the good girl you are…”

Y/N’s head lulls back onto Harry’s shoulder, her hot breath panting in his ear as she begins to reach the point of overstimulation. “Please, Harry...want you to cum…”

“Yeah?” Harry pants roughly, licking his red-stained lips as his pelvis snaps against her. “You want me to cum for you? Want me to--fucking--give you--Christ--”

Harry usually pulls out before cumming, but his orgasm crashes over him so suddenly that he doesn’t have the chance. Instead, he buries himself to the hilt, throwing his head back in ecstasy, mouth wide open as a deep groan vibrates in his chest while thick ropes spill inside Y/N.

Even with his supernatural stamina, Harry is exhausted after he comes down from his high. It takes him a moment to collect himself enough to pull out, exhales hot and heavy in Y/N’s ear as he gathers his thoughts for his next move.

“Where--” He pants between his words as he watches the girl’s eyes flutter. “D’you have a cloth, or…?”

“There’s some--some paper towels in the kitchen.” Y/N nods her head to the right, her own chest still heaving with exertion.

Harry nods quickly, sponging his stained lips to her shoulder before climbing down from the couch. He hurriedly paces into the kitchen and locates the napkins, ripping off a few squares and wetting it under the sink before he returns.

“Bend over.” He says again, but the tone of the phrase is entirely different than it was earlier. He’s not desperate with thirst or lust anymore, but instead has settled into his role of providing aftercare.

Y/N, however, still has the same obedient reaction, and folds herself over the backrest of the couch, forehead braces against the cushions as Harry quickly but carefully cleans up the cum dripping from between her thighs.

“You’re so polite, y’know that?” She can’t help but giggle to herself, glimpsing back at him from between her parted legs. “Cleaning up the mess you made.”

Harry’s chuckle matches her own as he gives her one final wipe and a jesting smack to the ass, returning to toss the paper towel away. His voice carries from the other section of the flat. “S’only fair. I was raised right.”

Y/N hums in her throat in response as she climbs down from the couch, soreness already beginning to settle into her limbs in the most delightful way. She crosses her arms over her chest, still self-conscious despite Harry literally spreading her open only moments ago.

“Are you, um--” Her voice cracks, bringing a new wave of heat to her face as she clears her throat. “You can stay the night. If you’d like.”

Harry, who has ducked back into the living room area and is reaching for his discarded top on her floor, raises an eyebrow as he picks up the pastel blue t-shirt and turns it right side out. The puppy drawing smiles up at him ironically. “Yeah? You sure?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He can see his teeth marked all across the silky skin. “It’s late. And I normally like to have a bit of a cuddle with someone after they cum inside me.”

A surprised snort sounds from Harry’s chest. “I suppose I can’t refuse that.” He says in understanding entertainment, holding out his tee to her as an offering. “Here. If you’d like to cover yourself…”

Y/N accepts the article gratefully, pulling it over her exposed body. The shirt falls just past her bum, covering her enough that she can let her arms drop to her sides. She likes the way his clothes fit her. “Thank you. Do you want something to sleep in...?”

“I prefer going bare, actually.” Harry says in a cheeky tone, running a jeweled hand through his sex-mussed curls as he smirks. “Much more comfortable.”

Y/N laughs quietly, shaking her head in half disbelief, half amusement. “Of course you do.” She says with a roll of her eyes, holding out a hand for Harry to take. “C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m fucking exhausted.”

Harry sews his fingers between her own, replying with a cheeky squeeze and a smug tone. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Y/N laughs again, but she doesn’t mind the cockiness behind Harry’s quip. If anything, the banter reassures her. She’d take a smug reply over awkward post-hookup silence any day.

And maybe if the lingering buzz from the alcohol wasn’t fogging her eyes, and maybe if the intense aftermath of endorphins wasn’t clouding her mind, and maybe if she wasn’t distracted by how strangely comfortable it feels to joke around with Harry, Y/N would have noticed. She would have noticed it the instant she took his hand within her own. She would have noticed it when she had stepped into the hallway and gently tugged him after her playfully, the dim lightning from the single lamp in the living room coffee table casting a shadow across his figure and over the handsome features on his face. Maybe, if it wasn’t for all of that, she would have noticed that the jade of his irises was long gone, replaced by an ominous red hue with the same dangerous glint that had been present at the bar. She would have noticed that this time around, it carried very different intentions. She would have noticed how, after she climbed into her own bed after Harry, after he pulled her into his strong arms, and after she had laid her tired head onto his chest, that there was no heartbeat to greet her ears.

But she doesn’t notice it. And it only takes a moment for her eyes to drift shut in blissful ignorance, lulled by the sound of Harry’s breathing. Only Harry’s breathing.

///

It takes fifteen minutes for Harry to realize that he didn’t really think this through.

At the moment, when Y/N asked him to stay over, and he was still high on his last orgasm and on the lingering taste of her blood along the arch of his tongue, it seemed like a good idea. He could stay the night, he thought. He, just like she had mentioned about herself, was fond of cuddling after sex, and it wasn’t often that he got to have that. Perhaps it would be a nice way to cap off the night, he’d rationalized, and so he’d allowed the mortal girl to lead him to her bed for entirely innocent reasons (innocent only because they’d finished everything sinful in her living room).

And then Y/N fell asleep on Harry, and he remembered why he doesn’t ever spend the night at a one night stand’s place.

Harry is bored.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t sleep, because he does. Stephanie Meyer got that wrong in those insipid books that have haunted Harry since 2008, but that wasn’t surprising, considering that Harry doesn’t sparkle in the sun, either. Granted, if he steps into daylight without his lionhead ring, his skin will blister and burn until it falls off his body, but he won’t sparkle, and frankly, he’s offended that everyone thinks that he will. He also can’t read minds, although he wouldn’t mind it if he could. And he does need sleep. Just not as often as a regular mortal.

With increased stamina means increased everything, including how long Harry can go without sleeping. Although he slept more often when he was first turned out of habit, Harry finds that he can go two or three weeks, or even a month, without having to rest his body and mind. And even when he does finally manage to fall into a peaceful state, it’s only for a few hours before he wakes up involuntarily. It’s just as well. He doesn’t like to be unaware for that long. It’s in his nature to be alert, and he likes it that way. And because he doesn’t need to spend eight hours unconscious every night, Harry finds that he gets a lot more done in his life.

Except now, when he’s stuck under the body of a fragile and depleted human.

When Harry falls into bed with a partner, he’s normally itching for them to fall asleep so he can sink his fangs into their necks and take what he wanted all along. And then, after his thirst and libido are both satiated, Harry will climb out of bed, dress himself in whatever outfit he’d dragged himself to the club in, and make his way back to his condo before the sun begins to rise on the horizon. Simple as that.

But even he has to admit, he thinks as he ghosts his fingers down the barely healed mark on Y/N’s neck, that he’d gotten a little out of control tonight. He’d been so carried away by her touch, her sensations, her scent, that he’d lost his usual patience and bit her mid thrust. Thankfully, Y/N had been too caught up in her own orgasm to notice, and while Harry couldn’t deny that the heightened pleasure of her blood rolling down his throat as he slid his cock in and out of her hot cunt is something he thinks he’ll remember for eons, Harry knows that he was lucky to have gotten away with such a risky move.

Now that the young woman’s breath has completely evened out, Harry can evaluate the damage he’d done during his lapse in composure. In all honesty, he’s relieved to find that it isn’t as messy as he had feared. While he’s usually careful enough to make nearly surgical incisions into his partner’s flesh, he’d bitten Y/N with reckless abandon, too caught up in his pleasure to think about being neat. However, when he finds that the messiest thing about the bite is the few smears of blood still staining her skin, the anxiety— which Harry hadn’t even known was curled around his stomach like a vice— slips away. His venom had slowly begun to heal the bite mark already, but Harry knows that the only way it’ll be completely gone in the morning will be for Y/N to ingest his blood.

Allowing a human to ingest vampire blood was always a risk; after all, if they died with it in their systems, they would begin their second life a few mere hours after the first one ended. Despite that contingency, Harry had always rationalized the decision by telling himself it was better than the alternative, which was draining the human until they were dead. After all, a corpse doesn’t care about a few bite marks on their body. The police, on the other hand, do care about that, which was reason enough for Harry to take the time to heal anyone he drinks from. And, in all honesty, healing those he hurts is almost therapeutic for him. It’s a reminder that, despite his leftover humanity being barely present, he still has some nonetheless.

It’s those thoughts that are flowing through Harry’s mind when he carefully shifts under Y/N, drawing his arm free enough that he can carefully brush the human’s hair away from her supple skin. He leans down slowly, brushing his nose along the pulsing of Y/N’s neck before dragging his tongue along her warm skin. The taste of the few lingering streaks of blood incite a new burn in the back of Harry’s throat, a reminder of the sweet elixir that runs through the mortal girl’s veins. It takes all of Harry’s newly returned self-control to stop himself from creating a fresh bite next to the older one. Bringing a jewelled hand to his mouth, Harry lightly pricks his index finger on one of his pronounced fangs, hardly feeling the breaking of his icy skin in his mouth. He squeezes his finger tip with his thumb after pulling the digit from his teeth, watching with darkening eyes as a drop of midnight crimson blood beads on the end of his finger.

Y/N’s mouth is partially open already, hot breath falling from her unconscious lips with every movement of her chest, but Harry still grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger gently, nudging down her jaw until he can see her tongue. He pauses then, realizing how similar the sight is to how he had seen her an hour earlier. The memory of Y/N on her knees as she begged Harry to fuck her mouth sends a rush of electricity down his spine, but he shakes his head free of the thoughts before he can get carried away. He’d had his fun with the poor girl, he reminds himself, half wistful and half chastising. He can’t allow himself to take anything more from her. It’s his turn to give her something for all that she had gifted him.

With her mouth now fully open, Harry slowly slides his index finger along Y/N’s pink tongue, watching as his blood stains it red. He releases her chin from his grip as he does so, dragging his fingers from her jaw to her hair. Worrying that the mortal will begin to stir at the iron taste on her tongue, Harry figures that a soothing touch will be the best way to ensure that she’ll stay asleep. Once his grip strays from her chin, however, Y/N’s mouth slowly drifts closed, enveloping his ringed index finger in her cushiony lips. He then feels a gentle yet constant suction that tells him that Y/N is sucking his finger, just as she sucked something else earlier, and Harry nearly loses what little sanity he has left.

There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him that he should shift away from Y/N. If he had any more humanity, he’d peel away from her now, quickly dress himself in his abandoned clothes, and slip out her front door before she even notices. If Harry had an ounce of selflessness, he’d do it. But in this moment, all he can think about is how warm the young woman’s mouth is, how her smell is so sweet that Harry thinks he could get cavities just from inhaling her fragrance, and how fucking wonderful it feels to have her silky lips wrapped around his finger; it’s like even unconscious, her mind wants him as much as he wants her.

And so Harry stays in bed, listening to Y/N’s breathing, watching as the bite he gave her fades to a small bruise, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest tell him she’s deep in sleep in a way that Harry will never be again. The thought nearly saddens the vampire when he finally manages to pull his finger from Y/N’s mouth, smudging an impulsive kiss at the corner before he can stop himself. Harry remembers how lovely sleeping next to someone after sex felt when he was human. Of course, he’d always found himself in the same position Y/N would come to find herself in the next morning, with mysterious bruises scattered along her skin. But that caveat side, Harry had rather enjoyed sleep when he was human. And if he could sleep, then he would have something to distract himself from both the boredom of the quiet night and the gentle throbbing of his cock as Y/N shifts against him.

Harry’s eyes flit around Y/N’s room for the first time since she’d pulled him inside. The area is small, but decorated in a way that makes it seem cozy rather than claustrophobic. Her bed is nudged into the corner against the wall, covered in a mis-matched set of plain olive green sheets and a paisley-printed comforter that suggests their appropriate accompaniments are between washes. The bed is stout and close to the ground, hunkered down in a red oak wooden frame that is sanded and scratched in some places, making Harry come to the conclusion that it was probably thrifted. He likes that; he’s a fan of thrifting himself, which might seem contradictory considering the borrowed t-shirt Y/N is currently inhabiting is a sixty dollar Marc Jacobs piece. But at certain times, it’s the truth. Second hand shops hold a lot of neat stuff that humans tend to take for granted; they call it trash, whereas Harry deems it vintage treasure.

The walls are built of large bricks, covered in glossy creme paint on two panels and a cool grey on the opposite sides. The entrance to the room is a frosted glass sliding door with wallpaper strips lining its edges, the print of the detailing being messy doodles of different colored eyeballs. It’s cute in an indie sort of way. It screams California newborn.

The roof is a popcorn ceiling and Harry nearly gags in utter disgust, but manages to stifle it. It’s not like she can control that— not everyone can compel themselves a bachelor pad the way he had— and she’s lucky to have even found an affordable apartment this decent, especially in such a popular city. And she decorated the space pretty well, he’ll give her that much. Lots of antique knick-knacks, a few picture frames of family and friends littered around random surfaces, and a tapestry of what appears to be a hilled valley during a sunrise extended across the largest wall. The colors of the sky in the image are a mixture of dark purples, drunken blues, mellow oranges, and buttery yellows, and Harry has conflicting feelings about the article. Bluntly put, tapestries are stupid in his eyes. They’re trashy and hipster, which he’s grown to despise. But the photo Y/N’s drapery depicts is calming and pretty, so he’ll let it slide. At least it’s not one of those godforsaken dream-catchers.

He cranes his attention further along the other side of the room, noticing there’s an entire wall of bookshelves, stacked to the brim with a wide variety of genres. Harry’s eyes land on a few familiar titles, surprised by the contrast of topics lining the mantles, eyebrows raising in pleasant shock. He thinks that maybe the choices in novels can gain back the bit of respect he’d lost for her as a result of the tapestry and popcorn ceiling. He’ll think on it.

Y/N suddenly shifts against him again, and he’s reminded that he can’t get up to pick out a book. His gaze flickers to the plant-lined window sill and then the small nightstand, searching for anything within his reach that could occupy him for the next few hours. A halfway read novel discarded somewhere close, perhaps? A magazine? Some sort of video game system that he could play quietly until the sun rises?

It doesn’t take long for Harry’s search to come up empty. Apparently, Y/N’s bedroom has a place for everything, and everything is in its place. It’s no matter, Harry sighs to himself, wrapping his arms tighter around the girl sound asleep on his chest. He’ll just have to count Y/N’s breaths and heartbeats until dawn.

///

When Y/N wakes up the next morning, she’s unsurprised to find two things: a stiffness in her limbs, and an empty bed.

The former, she knows, is a sore reminder of the previous night’s activities, and how she’d allowed a complete stranger to use her however he wanted. Blood rushes to her cheeks as the night comes back to her in flickers: how Harry had kissed her, how she’d begged him to fuck her mouth, how he’d worked her over until she couldn’t take it anymore. If the aching in her thighs is proof enough, Y/N knows that it was some of the best sex she’s ever had, which may be why the latter observation of Harry already being gone sparks a new ache in her chest.

Still, Y/N didn’t expect anything different; although she’d asked the man to stay the night, he hadn’t promised her anything about the morning, and she can’t exactly blame him. After all, a one night stand is just that: one night. A morning is never promised.

After Y/N manages to climb out of bed with wobbly legs, she evaluates herself in the mirror hanging on the back of her closet door. Her hair, of course, is a rat’s nest, and although she attempts to tame it with her fingers and a scrunchie from her bag on the floor, Y/N knows that it’ll take a long, steaming shower and lots of conditioner to detangle the mess. A hot shower will probably be the only way to quell the throbbing of her muscles, she thinks, stepping closer to the mirror to examine her body. At the sight of bruises littered along her skin when she pulls up Harry’s blue t-shirt, Y/N’s mouth falls open, and her eyes widen as she examines the purple marks.

There’s a few scattered along her hips and thighs, small little indigo dots that could easily double as fingerprints. Y/N is certain that if Harry were here, his fingers would match the marks perfectly. And now that her hair is up, Y/N spots a mark along her neck. This bruise is much more pronounced than the others, and Y/N can almost make out the shape of individual teeth dotting the edge of the purple welt. Through her alcohol-muddled memories, Y/N can remember a moment where Harry bit down on her neck as their orgasms washed over each other. Remembering almost brings back that pleasure again, and the phantom feeling distracts her so much that she nearly misses the unmistakable sound of her kitchen cupboards opening.

By the time she pulls on a pair of cotton shorts to cover her bruised thighs and opens the sliding door of her bedroom, Harry’s already managed to figure out her coffee maker. Standing in front of the counter with his bare back to her (Y/N does her best not to focus on it-- he’s all creamy skin and defined muscles, and if she thinks about it too much, she’ll go insane), Harry whistles quietly under the sound of the percolating beverage, his tattooed arms reaching for a mug from the cupboard. Y/N watches as he picks out a blue mug she’d bought last year at Barnes & Noble, a small part of her secretly pleased that he chose her favourite out of all options.

“Good morning.” She says with a small smile, walking slowly (and a bit awkwardly) into the kitchen.

Harry’s whistling stops as he cranes his neck just enough to glance at her over his shoulder, his cheeks dimpling in greeting. “Morning, love. How’d you sleep?”

“Really good, actually, but that’s to be expected, given how exhausted I was.” Y/N opens the fridge to retrieve her milk carton, setting it down on the counter next to the two mugs Harry has picked out. “What about you?”

The corner of Harry’s lips twitch once, and if Y/N hadn't already been gazing at his lips in want, she wouldn’t have caught the movement. “Like a baby.”

The beeping of the coffee pot interrupts the small conversation, and Harry reaches for it automatically, filling the two mugs with the freshly steaming liquid. “Do you take cream and sugar?”

Despite Y/N opening the cupboard above her, Harry manages to snag the sugar bowl before she can. “Milk and sugar, yeah. And you don’t have to do that.” Y/N says, watching as Harry spoons sugar into a mug for her before grabbing the milk carton.

“I know I don’t have to, but I figured I should.” Harry gives a quick shrug of his shoulders as he lightens the drink with milk, leaving his own mug completely black. “Thought you might be a bit sore after last night.”

Harry can practically hear the blood rushing to Y/N’s cheeks, and the dull ache in the back of his jugular flares up as she reaches for her coffee mug, her smell washing over him as she moves closer. He grasps his own mug, lifting it to his lips in an attempt to quell the thirst in him with a less satisfying alternative.

“I, um,” Y/N stutters over her words for a moment, taking a sip of the hot coffee as an excuse not to talk while she collects herself. “I’m a little sore, yeah. But nothing too bad, and certainly not sore enough that I can’t make coffee. Or breakfast.”

Harry pauses with his mug half raised to his strawberry lips. “Breakfast?”

“I could make us breakfast, if you’d like.” Y/N swallows hard, her throat thick as she speaks carefully. “I make pretty good pancakes. Blueberry lemon. My grandma taught me how to make them.”

“They sound delicious.” Harry takes another gulp of coffee, the high temperature not seeming to bother him in the slightest, before setting the half full cup back down on the counter. “But I should get going.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Y/N speaks in a tight voice, her head moving in a quick nod as she sets her own coffee down. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, go change, so you can have your shirt back--”

“Why bother to go somewhere? It’s not like it’s something I haven’t seen before.” A cheeky grin pastes itself onto Harry’s face, and Y/N fights back her embarrassment with a roll of her eyes.

“Shut up and give me a minute.”

By the time Y/N exits her room with the garment in hand and one of her favourite sweatshirts providing her with a bit of modesty, Harry is already waiting by the front door. She hands him the article of clothing, trying to not let her eyes follow his every move as he slips the shirt over his toned chest and down his lean stomach, pulling his pearls and cross necklace out from beneath the fabric.

“Thanks.” He says, fixing his hair after he finishes adjusting the tee into the waistband of his slacks, shrugging his cropped blue and creme plaid jacket over his broad shoulders. “Your apartment is really cute, by the way. I like the wallpaper decal on the sliding bedroom door. And the colours all work really nice together.

“Uh, thanks?” Y/N says slowly, and the confusion must be apparent on her face because Harry once again has a grin on his face, like he’s the only one in on a secret.

“That’s why you invited me back here last night, remember? To look at your apartment?” He prompts, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his tattooed arms across his chest. “Unless that was all a ploy to get in my pants.”

“Maybe it was.” Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth to hold back the soft smile threatening its way onto her face. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Harry slinks his head to the side as he appraises the unsuspecting mortal in front of him. Her messy hair that he’d tangled his fingers into the night before is pulled away from her heated face, exposing the healed bite mark on her neck. Her lips are still a little swollen from how he tugged on them with his teeth, and Harry remembers how careful he had to force himself to be to make sure he didn’t break her skin. Y/N shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and the movement is just awkward enough that Harry can tell she’s sore from how he bent her over the couch and fucked her, and he knows that it shouldn’t send a shiver of pleasure down his spine, but it does.

“Yeah. It worked.” He murmurs, reaching for the doorknob as he makes his final goodbye. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. Really, it was. I had a wonderful time.”

“So did I.” Y/N smiles shyly at him, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. “It was fun.”

Harry nods, and then he can’t stop nodding, and then before he knows what he’s doing, his mouth seems to move of his own accord. “You know, since I’m not taking you up on your offer for breakfast, would you allow me to give a counter offer?”

Y/N’s eyes perk up with curiosity as she responds in a careful voice. “Uh, sure?”

“Can I see your phone real quick?” Harry asks, holding out a ring-clad hand expectantly.

Y/N doesn’t hesitate before retrieving her phone from her sweater pocket, unlocking it and placing it in Harry’s cool hand as requested. A small spark of hope ignites in her stomach as she watches him open her contacts.

“Here.” Harry says after a moment, handing her back the phone with a smile of satisfaction. “I put a disco ball next to my name. Thought it fit, since we met at a club and all.”

“It does fit.” Y/N agrees as she looks down at the new contact in her phone. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with this?”

“Call it. Text it. Use it to let me know when you want more interior decorating advice.” Harry says snidely, watching with faint amusement as a sheepish look that washes across Y/N’s face. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Of course.” Y/N repeats back to him, her voice matching his teasing tone. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

Harry flashes her one more grin, his teeth seemingly glinting in the morning sunlight that shines through the window. “Yeah. You will.”

And as the vampire trots down the stairs of the human’s apartment complex, regaining the lighthearted whistling he’d been indulging earlier, he finds himself truly hoping that she’ll put his number to good use.

2K notes · View notes