#should i tag this with any warnings he’s just a little bit possessive n jealous but like that’s about it. i think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucysarah-c · 1 year

Text

Stoppers

Summary: Levi feels overwhelming jealous and decides that nothing better to set things clear of who owns who than a good old fucking

WARNINGS: SMUT, HEAVILY EXPLICIT CONTEXT. Levi x reader. Dubious concent, Degradation, spitting, oral sex, oral male sex, harsh sex, vaginal sex. Top Levi. Sub Yn. UNSAFE SEX, don't be silly guys wear condoms not like Levi here. Desk sex. Canon universe. Dirty talk. Smut. Praise kink. Possessive behaviour. Possessive sex. Rough sex. Breeding kink.

Context: Y/n and Erwin used to flirt but it never reached far. They broke up before anything happened. Y/n and Levi began to have a relationship, Levi was her first. Levi get overwhelmingly jealouse. THIS takes place before Erwin becomes a commander or Levi a captain BUT, after the events of ACWNR.

I wrote this to practise smut for my main multichapter Levi fic, this my 4th smut so be nice lol. I'm self concious of my smuts so... practice makes perfect. This could be consider an spin off from my fanfic Holy Ground.

Thats it... in case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to tell me.

She was so happy, the way she jiggled and did a little dance in her place during lunch. The smile from one ear to another, it was absurdly big for her face. Levi just admired from the other side of the table, the glass (that was actually made of wood) of water close to his lips and he couldn’t help to smile a little bit. If she was happy then he was too, it was as simple as that.

“I’m going to be in charge, I’m going to be in charge” She repeated almost mockingly but also cheeky, as if it was a little kid showing off their win.

“The commander will still be around, don’t forget that,” Hange reassured the girl, who was getting ahead of herself, with it. The brunette was smiling tired as if they were the mother who succumb to the idea and wasn’t getting as much credit as they should “I agreed to Erwin to this, don’t forget that either”

“Yes Yes! Thank you!” The girl hastily agreed.

“She’s not listening to me,” Hange said while chuckling bitterly.

“She’s definitely not listening to you,” Levi agreed with them.

Y/N squealed again, gritting her teeth as the emotion was too much to handle. Erwin was leaving for a week to the capital and he had just announced to her that she could fill his work during his absence. Not that he was letting her do any actual leading work but more like not letting his paperwork accumulate and make sure everybody delivered their part on time.

Those were the crumbs of Erwin’s job, even when he wasn’t officially the commander yet and Shadis was still around, but it was the biggest official responsibility the girl was getting tastes off and she was enjoying it as there was no idea. It was a high state to be in, not only for the responsibility but also for the relief. Not only hers but everyone else. ‘War is over’

It was a shared alleviation, with both of them on good terms. The trench war that had fallen upon everybody during winter had been lifted. ‘They are in good terms, not a couple but good terms and that’s what it matter,’

They were over, both. Y/N was secretly dating Levi but it was like a whispered fact. They didn’t give any sort of hint that they could be together but people could feel it, or at least those who wanted to believe it. Erwin on the other hand was playing the mature party, the ‘we are comrades of many years and also friends, let's keep the friendship’.

Then, once the not hostile interactions began again people were quick to question him ‘Are you two back together?’ and the answer was always ‘We had always been friends, that’s what we are,’

Levi wondered if it hurted the blond, at the beginning it was obvious but time heals everything… right?

That was another hard edge of the polygon that this situation was. Levi and Erwin had been setting the base of a good comrades and friendship relationship. What was an enmity when the short man came to the scouts, became a mutual respect and, then it evolved to both starting to get along. What felt a disinterest of the blond’s romantic situation with his actual girlfriend become a ‘I’m fucking his ex behind his back’.

Not that Levi regretted it but he wasn’t used to that, playing those sort of games and the guiltiness of not being the mature party to set things clear made him grim uneasy. ‘I own him an explanation’

“Should I pay for the cleaning service or the first time is free?” Erwin questioned, entertained, as Levi, who came to deliver some papers, got overwhelmed with the state of the office and began to clean on pure will.

“How the fuck can you work in the state this place is in? When was the last time you brushed the fucking dust from this shelfs?” Levi, who was already in a whole rampage of cleaning duties, complained.

“I’m doing my job, Shadis’ job and trying to make sure the scouts aren’t erased from the military… I’ve not had time recently to keep the space tidy,” Erwin excused himself while he went back to work on his desk.

From his peripheral view, he could see the agile and tiny shadow of Levi moving around the office, murmuring to himself and clicking his tongue like a mother who says ‘nobody helps me in this house?! what are you going to do the day I am no longer here?’

“This is not the first time you have this shitty load of work, I’ve never seen your office this fucking pigsty,” Levi lectured again and as soon as he said it, he regret it.

“Well… mh,” Erwin doubtful tried to find the politically correct and ambiguous answer “Someone else took care of it before,”

They both knew the reality to that. Levi didn’t insist because he was one of the reasons that person wasn’t doing these duties anymore. The blond also joined in the mood. This time, silently, Levi kept carrying on his previous activities. Without an actual team to lead and had finished training cadets in the morning, his afternoons were quiet and relaxed.

“If you don’t want me to mess up your stuff, say it now beforeI lose my boundaries,” The shorter man clarified as he had finished tidying up the place.

Only the office was suffering the rampage of his obsessive behavior but the attached bathroom and bedroom felt off limits. The future captain wanted to respect those boundaries.

“Erwin,” He insisted.

“Sorry, what?” The blond raised his attention from the papers to look at the other man then, as he processed the words , he replied “Oh yeah, please, feel free.”

“You sure? even the room and the bathroom?”

“I’ll clean every corner…” he insisted.

“You’ll make me a huge favour,”

Erwin chuckled a bit dry “I don’t know what you think I hide in my personal chambers but yeah, go ahead,”

Those words kept resonating in Levi’s head. His pale fingers folded the laundry and then found a place for them in the wardrobe. Between the tide of uniforms, bluish and purplish pieces of clothes there was a striking colour at the back of it. Levi, who was kneeled on the ground to tidy up the bottom of the closet, didn’t give credit to his own eyes.

Behind boxes that probably had special occasion outfits that were worth keeping separated from the rest. Behind the couple pairs of spare training boots, behind some perfumes, behind some tightly squeezed sweaters that he wasn’t wearing during this hot season, behind all that there was something that had a pastel pink ribbon.

That was all Levi saw between the space of the hanging laces of the spare boots. The colour was striking, nothing like the rest. It was so back in the wardrobe, so covered up, so squeezed on the deepest corner that it screamed ‘I’m a secret’

But Levi had been there before searching for secrets, back when Isabel and Furlan were still around and if that pink thing ‘whatever that is’ had been there, he would have seen it. There was something so particular about that shade of pink with golden tiny letters on the edges. He had seen those before, he knew exactly what that was the second his eyes landed on it.

His pale hand slowly but surely penetrated to the back of the wardrobe, reached the pink ribbon and pulled from it. The champagne coloured cardboard bag had the name of the expensive Sina’s wall clothes shop that his, his, girlfriend liked so much. The subtle rose pearl ribbon was tying the opening of the bag. The satin fabric of it shined gracefully in the light of the room and felt like velvet under Levi’s finger as he pulled from it.

Usually, he was known for his stoic uninterested expression but right there, he was lost in the process. His lips slightly parted, his hands grabbed and pulled out part of the items inside of the bag. A perfume, hygiene stuff, a cute thick baby blue dress, stockings, what seemed to be pyjamas, a thick knitted cardigan, cute soft and pretty rose pearl underwear.

He didn’t need to get it closer to his face to smell it, it stinked with his girlfriend’s perfume. He didn’t need to check the size of it, because he knew it by heart. He didn’t need to question where he got it from because Levi already knew.

Morning before leaving to the former HQ of the scouts for their winter break, their winter break. Before the ball, before all the shit that went down. Her, his sweet baby girl, carrying on that cardboard bag on her elbow as she delivered Erwin’s breakfast. The cardboard bag with the clothes for the morning after the ball, the morning that was meant to happen but never did. The morning after everything was planned for them to lay together for the first time. That cardboard bag.

It hit him like a bulk of ice water. The simple thought of those ridiculously expensive clothes that his girlfriend wore lying there as a dirty secret made him want to throw up in range.

‘What do you do with her fucking clothes? you jerk off? you sniff them? to keep them as a last hope or a lost dream? you keep them… you keep my woman’s clothes. You, you who said you moved on, you who said that you just wanted her as friends’

Levi, who had plenty of sex but non relationships before this, was the only authorised to keep Y/N’s clothes aside from herself, obviously. Because those were her clothes in his place. He felt it possessing his body, the rage. The thought of his innocent angel talking to the blond and him observing her to keep memory for later on, later on when he may grab those stockings and stroke his dick with them.

‘if this was the underground…’ Levi said to himself ‘I would have cut your dick off and fed it to the dogs, then I would have made you bed for it,’

Levi gritted his teeth so hard that they began to make a crackly sound against themselves, painfully almost.

The anger was clouding his judgement, he knew that Erwin was much more than just his girl's ex and so that made the thought stop there… a mere thought. ‘We are not in the underground,’ Levi remind to himself. While down there taking matters into bloody hands was the norm, and the recommended if you wanted to keep your own head safe and send the message; Levi was smart enough to quiet himself down.

‘I need to be subtle like this surface assholes yet assertive’

He was quick to place everything right as it was, hide the crime scene and Levi had cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene. Once the door opened, he was just making the bed.

“You want tea?” Erwin's approach was friendly, perhaps happy that Levi was finally easing out between both.

“Sure”

His face was stoic as usual, the voice was monotone as it should be but the eyes. Erwin was a clever man and he noticed the change of attitude, those silver ones were aiming for blood.

“Everything alright?” the commander in line questioned.

“If by alright you mean the mess you have in this fucking place,” Levi replied and moved to the door of the room as he knew the tea was going to be at the office.

“Ah, sorry,” Erwin chuckled, slightly imprinting a ‘non-aggressive’ attitude.

‘Calm down, calm down,’ his head repeated ‘I had always liked to save the best bite for last, savour the taste,’

But the overwhelming feeling of foreign anger was a demon possession. Y/N was his first romantic partner and he had made it clear that she was the last one. Dealing with the necessity of making clear that something was ‘mine, mine and only mine’ and the overtaking greedy green demon of jealousy was something he wasn’t used to.

Especially since they were trying to keep it as a secret. Like an optical illusion that once you see it, you can’t undo it. Levi felt his trust in any aspect of the matter abandoned his rational side, Erwin wasn’t trustful around his girl. His girl. How his large hand would land on the bottom of her back as he squeezed to pass through on a tricky small corridor.

‘Why doesn’t he stuck his hand on his fucking asshole before touching her?”

Or the little tap on her shoulders as he appeared to reach for a book she was jumping for. Her pounding expression as he messed up with her height. The smile he gave her, the adoring eyes of a lost lover. Levi felt as if he was losing his mind.

“You alright?” Hange questioned, concerned next to him during dinner as he had dead eyes, that type of expression he usually saved to hunt titans outside of the walls.

“Yeah,” He quickly replied but the pressure his fingertips put against the palm of his hands wasn’t healthy or painless. They were walking back to the blond’s office, for more paperwork before his trip. Levi hadn’t even mentioned to her, he kept it to himself. But if he had to declare it to her, he would have say “I trust you! I don’t trust him,”

‘I can’t take the bag away, he will notice,’ Levi replayed the options in his head as his insomnia kept him up at his shared room in the male barracks.

The simple thought of those clothes pure as a white dove laying in Erwin’s personal chambers was driving him nuts. They smelled like innocence because that was what she was before Levi stepped in, and that innocence was something she gave up for him. It was his gift, Levi was the man that made her feel safe enough. Erwin had no right in keeping a little fragment of that innocence.

‘Maybe he forgot to give it back,’ His only rational size tried to fight back the overtaking of his soul ‘Please, he had over half an year to give them back. Those clothes weren’t forgotten, they were laying perfectly saved and protected there. There were kept with love, with affection, with lust’

His memory recalled that time that someone dared to cut Isabel’s hair and how quick he was to kill them. ‘I’ve grown soft’

‘We are not in the underground anymore,’

He waited for his dessert patiently so the third day of Erwin’s absence, he insisted on delivering papers to his office. She was there, immaculate, and sat down on a chair that looked absurdly big for her. Y/N smiled brightly when he crossed the room, submerged in paperwork. Trying to give more than just her best performance, prove she was worthy of such responsibility.

“Hey there” her voice was soft and excited, it held the kind of feelings that being in love could only. It bothered him how much it made him tremble inside, getting her adoration gaze upon him.

“I made you tea,” Levi said as if the tray with it wasn’t enough information and then added “And more paperwork,”

She groaned a complaint and stood up, the chair was pushed backwards to hit the window on the back. Her slightly bending position over the desk as she tried to add perspective to the strategy plans that she was analysing. If she hadn't been so lost in her work, she would have noticed the lock click or the tray left at a side round table and not at the desk.

The pencil in her rosy lips moved from one side to the other as she studied the situation. The candle burned steady on the upper right corner and the window revealed the dark panorama of the training forest. It was late, late enough for cadets to be on curfew and superiors crawling back to their chambers.

“You’re getting yourself overwork, let him have some shit to do when he comes back,” Levi said. His finger brushed her hair out of the way, scooping it to her right side and making the hairs of her neck raise.

She hummed as Levi grabbed the sides of her hips and pushed them backwards, her cheeks resting on top of his groin as his fingers tried to feel the flesh of her thighs through the uniform.

“Oi, I’m talking to you,” He insisted as she kept her attention on the blueprints.

With the neck exposed he began to kiss and gently suck the sweet stop of it right where the jaw met the neck. Taking his time nibbling the left shoulder and the collarbone as his left hand left the hip and pushed the white shirt she was wearing to a side.

Her humble mixed with a repressed moan resonated, her hand trying to push the one that remained securing her hips, “I’ve a lot to do,” was her first attempt to brush it off, “I need to focus, Levi,” she insisted.

His lips were persistent trailing her shoulders to her neck, as the nibbling became playful bites that made him dip his teeth slightly deeper.

She chuckled, “Stop it,” without any conviction in it. Her teeth pressured slightly on her bottom lip as she enjoyed the demanded attention from her lover. Levi’s sucking the tender parts made her escape a shy moan.

“Miss L/N? I’m retiring for the day,” a strong knock at the door of an office that wasn’t hers and the voice of a soldier on the other side made her come back to her senses.

“Sure, you’re dismissed from activities John,” She replied quickly readjusting her shirt, ashamed. Levi’s patronising hand didn’t leave her hips which made her turn around frowning seriously.

“Stop it, you’re insane if you think we will do anything here,” she whispered.

Y/N had hardly initiated anything before, her girlhood lost only a couple of months. Therefore Levi had always been the controlling one and, aside from his personal preferences, kept it vanilla. She was a little delicate Sina’s wall flower, unused to the rough handling and a taste made for sweets.

Levi’s pale slender finger tapped rhythmically the bones of her hips that he refused to let go and little could she do against his power. Thoughtful, he observed intensely making her pale. Silver piercing eyes in the search of any weakness.

She glazed around, “I-I don’t want to disobey him,”

Levi’s stoic expression remained outside, but he could feel his core burn with irritation. The mere thought of Erwin’s feelings or wishes holding privilege over him made him tutted.

“Oh,” a breathless mock, baring teeth as the clench of anger turned into a smirk. Levi allowed a chuckle to escape momentarily before humming “So it’s a matter of orders?”

The sudden change of attitude made her turn around completely, “Well yeah…” she hesitated “He’s… my future commander,”

The dark haired man frowned intensely, each word filled the fire that burned him from inside.

“No, no,” his voice was passive and quiet but deep. His movements were casual, as he raised a hand to touch his jaw, wondering or pretending that he did. Before the same hand grabbed her soft face, pressuring the cheeks together as his thumb caressed her lips. They began to turn so scarlet with blood rushing in. This thumb pushed her bottom lip down as he admired the inside without rush, he had all the time of the world.

The girl, on the other hand, timidly tried to remain still as her mind battled the idea of comprehending what was going on.

“I’m the man you answer to, I own this pampered little body of yours,” Levi’s voice got authoritarian as it got firm, not excitement whatsoever as if he held all the power. Why the rush or the strength if he already knew who was in charge “If I say that we are fucking here, with me bending you over this polished desk so I can fuck you harsher and steadier than in a bed, to the point the only shit you can do is part your legs wider trying to fit me in that slutty tight cunt. The only possible answer from you is asking if I want my cock sucked first.”

“You’re getting it all wrong, sweetheart,” His voice was steady and patronising, as he was talking to a child. “He’s not your commander, he’s nothing of you and you’re all mine.”

The push on her chin to make the head bend downwards, forcing her eyes to look up.

She was in a complete blank state, Levi had never behaved like this before. But she felt her heart thudding, was all she could feel aside from the saliva accumulate. The thought that she may have been biting more than she could chew echoed at the distance. Her body filled with the stupidness of bravery, the shameless intrigued to know how far this could go. Poisoning curiosity clouded her judgement as Levi’s voice deepened with husk.

The only few inches that made Levi taller than her felt like feets. The strength that he showed off in the training grounds felt like completely put into the grip of her cheeks and this new version of him, that she wasn’t entirely sure from where it came from, was making her lose concentration. She had always liked Levi’s dominant nature, sure but this? She felt like she was a prey getting cornered as her aggressor wetted his lips to the thought of having her as a whole course meal.

Tired of pampered little daddy’s princess, it was time for her to learn how to please him properly. To take what he had to give and be grateful for it. They had spoiled her rotten, it was his duty to show her the place where she belonged. And that was keeping his cock wet and warm.

Words were trapped in her tight throat as her mind spinned around, trying to grasp the situation as Levi did her face. Hazily shy tongue tasted the salty feeling of the man’s thumb. The hash texture of the teeth under his digit, the velvet feeling of her tongue and the witness of her mouth around it. Enough to almost make him blush or smirk, no holding back, no anymore.

“Good girl,” Levi’s puffed heated whisper made her tremble.

Glittery eyes, the embarrassment was unfurling in her rosy cheeks. Ashamed of how much it made her feel tight and warm but yet as if there was a place inside her that wasn’t filled properly. The deepness and reassurance of his tone, she wanted to hear it forever. On repeat until it was the only word she knew.

The whiddraw of his finger, only to add two more. Index and middle pushing deeper as she voluntarily ran her tongue under them. Hollowing cheeks as the pulling sensation pushed Levi’s finger deeper. The spit filled her mouth as it got wider. The pressure those digits did against her tongue as they adventured deeper, pushing her jaw and tongue downwards as they curled at the end, forcing gag reflex. Her mental will of keep sucking as brushing her tongue against them filled her conviction despite the overwhelming feeling of throwing up. ‘His dick is bigger,’ the thought that kept her pushing forward as the man felt the spit of her lips against his knuckles, sometimes teeth nibbling slightly.

“Good girl,” he repeated, “You want to impress me?”

She hummed a positive reply as her pressure intensified while Levi took them away slowly. Rubbing his fingers together, enjoying the moisture that made them glide easily.

Taking a step behind, Levi sat down in Erwin’s English green chenille chair. Resting his weight on the pushed surface as if he carried on so much on his shoulders. Elbows on both sides as if he was waiting for entertainment. Knees parted, creating an outward tilt that made the bulge shine prideful as it strained against the tight white trousers.

It made her jolt in her body, the sight of it as if she would never get used to it. Seen it before but it was always as mesmerising as the first time. The candle was still burning on the desk. The window was as wide open behind the chair as Levi’s leg while he waited for service. The idea of anyone recognizing that there was still someone in Erwin’s office or, for goodness sake, Erwin coming back from the trip early made her tremble. Her bottom lip became a prisoner of her teeth as she still wondered how much of a good idea this was.

“You don’t call me that.” His deep frowned expression made her remain quiet “Call me commander,”

“Lev–”

“Commander, sir..” Her breaking voice as she tried to process whatever that was happening conceived him the pleasure of carrying on.

“What a good girl,” Levi breathed out, mocking how easy it was to make her obey. “Come here. Are you going to behave for me?”

Her body combusted, it felt tight and warm but empty. Her covered knees with the combat boots hit the carpet of the floor as she squeezed between the chair and the desk. Levi pondered the idea of calling someone, so they would come in and force her to gag on his dick as she kept sucking while he tugged her under the desk. ‘Maybe for another occasion,’

“I asked you a question,” Levi’s firm, demanding voice warned. His demeanour held the undertone of someone who won’t accept rebellion.

“Yes,sir- Commander, sir,” She quickly corrected, and it made a chuckle echo in his throat.

Whatever was the thing that possessed Levi was making her succumb to a situation that she truly didn’t comprehend but made her whole body feel in a way it had never done before. Her body ached with the need to take anything he offered, thank him for it and do her best to get a compliment for taking it so well.

The meat of his inner thighs felt trapped, he petted himself through his uniform pants, lazily as his body rested on the cushioned surface.

“Make me happy, do your job,” Levi ordered with his voice dying from husk. She was reluctant at first, it felt wrong that it was someone else's place. It even smelled like someone else. Levi dedicated her his undivided attention as he frowned deeply.

“Do I’ve to do all the fucking work?” Levi complained under his breath as he sighted. Pale hands quickly unbuckled his belt, then he raised slightly from his place, just to push the leather off completely and let it rest on the desk.

A short hiss quicked his breath and then he sighted, as he unbuttoned the front of his pants and dragged down the zip. His hand reached for his cock as it shifted to the contact and then pulled out.

Y/N glazed up to him, trying to find the conviction. The fear of being seen from the training ground while sucking her boyfriend’s dick at someone else's office was something hard to forget. His finger’s run through her hair before gripping it in a handful made ponytail. Strands of hair tangled with his pale fingers as he pushed her face close to him.

“C’mon. Behave..” Levi breathed out as his other hand tugged his own pants off down his thighs and grabbed his dick from the bottom.

Gripping tightly the strands, making her his as he pushed her closer. Shiny curious eyes getting closer to his cock as she didn’t push away anymore, her breath ghosted against it. The difference of temperature of his warm shaft made him want to buck his hips against it.

Yn’s mouthered herself as he lazily did one, two jerks to push down the foreskin to reveal the flushed deep red tip. The side thick vein shined proudly as he pressured near the sack and then raised up to pressure the slit. Her rosy lips parted to give it a timid kiss before flatly running her tongue against it, giving it a particular harsh suck to that throbbing vein. Closed eyes before they opened lazily to look through her eyelashes with lidded eyes.

Levi’s breath stuck on his throat as she got him wet enough to engulf him soon. “Yeah, just like that, as I taught you,” Levi growled as he remembered that those lips had only been corrupted by him. She was getting better and he could tell. By the grip of his made ponytail, he pushed himself down her throat, quickly and aggressively.

No time, no patience. He did another tug and forced more of himself deep down her throat. Enjoying the warm and the wet as he groaned echoing in the empty room. The idea that he had been training her to take him exactly as he liked him, drove him nuts.

The girl choked a noise as her eyes tear up, relaxed her jaw to take him deeper as Levi forced her head still while his hips rocked forward.

His hissing reaction to each time he drove deeper into the engulfing wetness that dripped from the corner of her stretched rosy lips. “Fuck, suck harder. I taught you how to suck a dick, didn’t I?”

‘I’m trying!’ she wanted to say but Levi was so thick, so heavily against her tongue and he wasn’t yet all the way. The tip hitted the back of her throat each time he trusted forward. If she hollowed her cheeks, she would gag more on the spit. It would have been easier to run her tongue as he pushed in if she wasn’t fighting to slack her jaw trying to fit him.

The wet glide produced obscene loud noises as it sliced Levi’s cock.

“This view is mine only mine,” Levi moaned as he observed her face contouring, eyebrows drawn together as she tried to fit him all in.

Y/n’s also glazed up to look between heavy lids Levi undo in front of her, dusty cheeks, frowned expression and nor particularly of pain, groans resonating in his throat as his dick hit his throat. She gagged, hopefully, as he hissed before letting his head fall back. It was ridiculous how much he was enjoying it. The wet lovely noises before her gag as he forced her head to bob down on him filling the office. He liked it so much that he moaned while painfully gripping her hair.

He tugged her off, impossible pumpled red lips fighting for oxygen as she was breathless. Dizzy on arousal and in confusion. Watery eyes looking up to him and he commanded “open up,”

Reflective pinky tongue out as it was covered in glistering saliva, flat exposed as Levi hollowed his pale cheeks. Gathering moisture and with a loud sound, let the spit hit her mouth.

“Swallow,” and she obeyed, at this rate not questioning much. “Open up,” he breathed and smirked at the clean surface, ready for him to ruin again. “You’re a fast learner,”

Re-adjusting his position. Without warning, his firm grip that pushed her off, forced her back on his cock. Easily slipping in, she put all her back into it. Each time an inch deeper, a harsher pressure and moved more her tongue as they got a pleasant rhythm.

“Fuck, yeah. Just like that, love. Use your tongue more,” Levi seemed to have lost all inhibitions and he began to succumb to the pet names. All she could do was whimper around it and dipping into Levi’s thighs for balance.

Seeing him come undone was marvellous, it filled her pride. Maybe he was the one in command but her mouth delivered so much pleasure that he was head slackened against the chair, hissing in need, was beyond comparison. Maybe those previous underground chicks were naturally better but Levi became insane around her, always wanting more, always ready to break another rule for the sake of having her.

Hm her throat groaning warned him when he had pushed her all the way down, her nose against the dark hairs tingling against her nose, drooling down her chin as the spit turned thicker and sticker. Deeping her nails on his legs, patting out heavily of her nose.

Handful of kick breath as she her throat pushed Levi’s head past it “Shallow, shallow all of it,”

No more resting on the chair, curved for a better view as he tighten the grip to fuck fastly her flusterring throat. Tears merciless crossed her cheeks as she jerked and turned impossible red trying to fit it all.

“That’s it, fuck.” his breathing quickling as his voice was covered in necessity and arousal “You’re taking it so well, so fucking well,”

‘Oh that’s it,’ who needs oxygen when humanity’s strongest soldier is loudly moaning how good you take it. There was no instinct of survival, as she took all of it, felt deeper each time and drooled over his hips. The burning sensation each time that he went balls deep and the prideness of taking each inch.

Sobbing as it becomes too much at some point. She wasn’t sure what was wetting her face, her tears of her split as her hazy brain fighted for survival. Her knees hurted from the strength of not falling backwards from the trust of his hips.

“Fuck, yes yes,” Levi was in his own world, scratching the desk chair that didn’t belong to him. Staining with dark spots the chenille each time that he drove to abused that hole “Fucking shit,”

At this rate, she wasn’t even trying to not gag to reduce the chances of someone hearing. She couldn’t take it anymore, too much. Her lungs hurted as her hand pinched his thighs, patted them. Anything that would make Levi erase the grip. Finally free, Yn rested one hand on the floor as she caught her breath.

“God…” she hissed dizzy, coughing as their ragged breath filled the place. Levi took a brief moment to observe her down, quickly catching his breath before raising from the chair to grab something from the desk.

Piercing grey eyes looking into her demanding, squeezing her cheeks together. Forcing dewy eyes to look back at him with tears on the corners, glimmering gems looking into his. ‘What a pretty little sight,’ He was the only one he had seen it, and he was going to make sure it remained that way.

“Whose whore are you?”

“Y-yours,”

“Whose?”

“Yours,” this time with conviction, making him sight contented.

“Get up, I’m not done with you,” Levi growled.

Tugging from her forearm, obligated her to raise up by placing a hand on the carpet. Warm red cheek against the cold surface of the desk, hands pinned on the back. Levi’s cold hand made the hairs of her neck raise as he pushed the shirt and jacket up her back as far as they could go. Hot tongue tracing up her tailbone as he travelled the exposed skin.

It took all her self control to not moan under the minimum touch, she had been feeling dripping since the moment she decided to thoughtlessly invest in this idea and finally the attention was back on her. Hips pushing hard against hers as he humped her clothed ass, enjoying the pressure and squishing her against the desk.

Persistent lips sucked the crock of her neck a couple of times before straightening up. Palm of his hand on the bottom of her back. Pupils going thin as he remembered the owner of the office touching that place. Levi sighed breathless as he admired the view, her timid arousal eyes looking at him from the corners as he gave another good push with his hips, trapping her against the table. Soft moan as he shoved her promptly onto the table.

Levi wished she would be wearing a skirt, it would make it so much easier. Cursed under his breath the uniform tight pants.

“W-what is that?” She quickly questioned as he grabbed her hands and tight them together with his own belt, quite painful.

“This,” Levi bended to hower on top of her, to whisper “is for making me so fucking jealous,”

She could feel the bruises happening, not only around her wrists but on her hips as Levi gripped them with such strength as his teeth clenched.

Pelvis pressing against hers “Levi,” Yn gasped enjoying the friction but it was getting too much to handle. The moisture between her legs was getting uncomfortable as she needed something, anything, to fill her up.

Strong tug from her hair, pushing part of her upper body up and mixing her pleasurable necessity with arousing pain.

“I think we had already agreed it was commander, cadet,” Levi gritted his teeth.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry commander-” Y/n hissed in pain and then her face fell into the cold surface again, breath clouding the polish surface as her lungs ragged. Slightly shaking to the sides, trying to win back his interest and finally allow her some relief.

Undoing her belt and pulling down the pants, they reached far enough to her knees. The boots would make it impossible to take them off completely, the tingling sound of the buckle moving as her legs parted trying to fit him between them better. Biting the inner part of her cheeks with the molars, patiently waiting for him to finally rampage inside her.

Levi was taking his time, lazily jerking his hard cock as he admired the views. Pert, round ass and youngful beautiful legs that shined with her wetness that runned known from her neediness. It made him bite his bottom lip, thumb parting her inner fingers without touching her clit. If she was coming, it was from his cock only.

Tight little hole, he had been using it non stop the last couple of months and yet, it still looked so small. Gripping her ass, pushing it to the side to admire it better. Fingers kneading the meat to his heart content, full display only for him. ‘I’m getting that damn Captain promotion just for this, my own desk to ramble her every fucking day,’

She couldn’t take it anymore, feeling the tip of his head running up and down her folds, collecting her slick, but not getting close to her enter and neither to her clit. .

“Commander, please. Please-”

“How pretty is it when you beg,” Levi murmured holding his shaft as it leaked an ooze of precum with excited “Beg me more, princess,”

“Please, I really need you inside-”

“Oh you can do much better than that.”

Planting her forehead on the desk, sucking her bottom lip harshly as she got exasperated. She couldn't touch him, she couldn’t see him, she could barely feel him as he refused to get near the good places with his dick. Legs trembling in anticipation “Sir, please. I’m begging, fill me up until all I can feel is your dick pointing me to the point it hurts,”

His sinister chuckle as the words would have been impossible to come from her lips a few months ago when she was still an innocent girl, now she sobbed for him.

“I wish he could see you. Hungry little slut for my cock,” Levi grunted as he pressed the head against her enter and trusted himself aggressively.

Red bruised lips from biting parted soundless as she pulsed around him. It felt as if he was in her throat. It felt too much to handle but he didn’t wait for her to adjust, not this time. His right hand on her neck, forcing her head back down and imprisoned her. She felt the need to push away but the desk made sure there was nowhere to run.

Air hissed through his clenched teeth as Levi drowned his eyebrows together, it was a heavenly warm and tight encompass. Despite the grip on her hands, keeping them together, her knuckles paled as she pressed her fingers into her palms. The feeling of her cunt being abruptly filled, her legs trying to part more in vain to fit him better. She could feel Levi press and pull against her walls, it was overwhelmingly good that she swore she was sobbing.

Her moans began to mix with Levi’s groaning as he gravitated and rocked his hips. Moving himself steadily, trying to fully make his wave the tight place. Levi hissed breathy as she tugged his cock in all the right places.

Quickly, despite feeling his hips against hers, buried to the hilt and satisfied groans living his mouth, he didn’t wait. Slowly pulling out, her legs backed up of how painfully slow it was before rambling back on it. Slamming himself with no restriction, stood up properly to repeat the action.

Jaw tightening up as his teeth clenched “fucking shit, yeah, that’s it. Open up,” sighed as he enjoyed every minute.

“Commander-” her voice soft as a plea to then wheezed incoherent moans that filled the room. It felt too much, Levi bottoming each time, pistoning her hips.

“This fucking hole was made for me,” Levi pushed Yn’s cheeks apart as he gritted “I could barely fit my fingers before and look at that, now your cunt is sucking me in so nicely. Doesn’t want to let me go. Do you feel me rearranging your guts? It’s taking my fucking shape”

Levi had always had a dirty mouth but hearing him talk like that felt too much. Each time that he went balls it, it hit all the nice places. It was overwhelmed, to the point that all she could do was just slacken against the desk. Sobbing in pleasure how good it felt, she kept teething over the edge of coming but it kept building up.

“Are you crying because it feels good?” Levi pulled out completely, making her gasp loudly and watching the slick still connecting them.

“Ah…” She breathed, unable to perform any actual word and her legs shaking. Gladly she was that the desk was doing all the support, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up.

Grabbing her neck and using it as support as he smacked back in with a loud wet smack. Bending over, whispering “or because I’m fucking you in Erwin’s desk as some cheap corner whore?”

“Commander-” Yn weeped as she gritted her teeth, feeling the pressure of Levi’s hand on her neck and the other on running up and down on her body before painfully grabbing her hips again.

“You’re fucking dripping, you enjoy it Don’t you? You get off by me treating you for what you’re, just some tight cunt for me to use? Wait until you see his face when he notices the stains on the carpet,” Levi growled, getting himself excited.

“Ah-” She cried, trying to part her hips wider in vain, restricted by the uniform. Levi raised his right knee to the desk, to shift the angle and go deeper, if it was even possible.

The orgasm was foreshadowed. She came, muffling her cries the best she could so the rest wouldn’t hear, the bricks were thick but not that much. Pulsing against him as she cried overwhelmed. Levi wasn’t stopping.

“Ah- Fuck,” He moaned feeling the sudden walls sucking him so nicely.

“Tell me how much you love it.” no waiting, only unstoppable necessity of more. The desk shaked under the power and the blue-prints with the stressing paperwork falling from it. The candle falling and, luckily, turning off. Leaving them in the dim of the night.

“I-I love it, it’s so good. I love your cock-” Bumbling and sighting out. She didn’t even know what else he wanted from her, she couldn’t even feel her arms or her legs from knees down at this point. Head turning to the side, trying to catch some fresh air. Desk fogging with her rushed puffs.

“Ah- Ah-Ah” little noises escaping her lips as she felt coming again, jolting her body as Levi didn’t seem to have intentions to stop but the rhythm getting chaotic. Without lights all she could feel was the permanent presence of his hand on her neck, keeping her in place.

“I’m gonna breed you properly, so anyone can know to who you fucking belonged to,” Levi muffed out, hitting deeper and rougher each time. If it was even possible. The head of his cock met her cervix each time as he got carried away, dangerously.

“Fucking hell, yes” Levi gritted his teeth, succumbing to a muffle mix of swearing as he reached the end. Head throwing back as he lost any rhythm and inhibition.

“Levi…” forgetting the formalities and saying his name. The fingers of her feet contorning in pleasure, her hands tugging from the belt, arching her back and squirmed.

The not yet captain pressed as deep as he could, as his dick twitched and unloading himself inside. Laying on top of her back as both tried to regulate their breath, resting his chin on her shoulder as he admired her dizzily state and her features covered in wetness, from tears, spit or the sweat. He waited there until he finished working himself out.

“Stay still,” he groaned, raw voice after all what happened, straightening up. Both hissing as he withdrew his softening dick.

She attempted to look over her shoulder but she couldn’t even phantom the idea of gathering the energy for that. All that she could hear was Levi’s humming as he pushed her cheeks apart. Thumb gently massaging the hole as it began to leak his cum.

Then something began to clean her up as he kept prying open to see it all out.

“So pretty,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

All she could do was lay there limp, gasping for air or for her consciousness. It was so dark when she finally opened her eyes again. He was gently tugging her from her arms, soft quiet touch nothing compared to before.

“Do you want a shower?” He offered, knowing that they could take advantage of staying in the private chambers. After all, it was almost a suicide mission trying to leave the higher ranks’s building at the middle of the night without getting caught.

Not entirely sure how but Levi had manoeuvred both of them to be cuddling against the chair, playing with her hair.

Sleepy hummed a negative replied “I can’t feel my legs… neither my hands,”

“Oh yeah…” he undid the grip but she hissed loudly now down from the high, noticing the deep marks around her wrist.

“What the fuck happened to you?” She questioned once she felt her regular partner was back.

“I got carried away,” was all he murmured.

“It’s my fertile week, you said we weren’t going to sleep together these days,”

“I got carried away,” he repeated uninterested in going into details.

She fell asleep at some point and he allowed her. Carefully as a mother that puts a kid on the crip, Levi slided her body off from his. He cleaned the papers, picked up the blue-prints, and turned off all the candles. The place was right as it was before they came in, except from one thing.

The uncomfortable silence as both pondered over the recent activities “... how am I supposed to look at Erwin’s face after this?”

Levi didn’t reply right away, chuckled dryly and said “well better for you, less neck pain from looking up,”

Pale finger reaching across the wardrobe, pulling out the pink ribbon bag and opening it. He admired the lingerie with what he had cleaned up his own load off. It was pristine before he stole it a couple of days ago and now it was stained with him. As so was her. He could help it to grimace as he folded it and put it between the clothes.

‘I’m fucking insane,’ he thought with no remorse. However, Levi was sure that if the blond found out, he wouldn’t bring it around. It was either admitting that he had kept his ex clothes or both pretending this never happened. As the future captain was getting to know the Commander in line… he bet that this was the last time he was going to hear from this.

Perhaps this was the last time he could let his inner sassy thug shine through until he had to shut it down to behave as a proper leader. Then when the blond came back, they crossed pathways in the corridors.

“I cleaned your office. You live in a pig’s shit,” Levi casually commented.

The tall man smiled “Thank you, I appreciate it,”

Humming positive as the former thug slowly kept his stroll in the opposite direction but stopped midway “Oi,”

Both man looked over their shoulder to see what the other had to say, Levi casually dropped “I also put stoppers to your desk, that shit moves a lot,”

The blond frowned, Levi stoically turned back and kept going as if he had said nothing. It took all his will power to not smirk on his way down to the mess hall.

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owlight · 9 months

Note

Omg I just saw you saying your requests are open and I am just💕😭

Could I please have some headcanons about how Lucci would react if his girlfriend/crush had hair more beautiful than his?

Thanks for your patience and have a nice day <3

Thank you for requesting 🫶🥰I did a little one shot too beside the hc,,man have great hair,,,also ur so sweet,,this ask made my day 🥹

Tags: hair envy, Rob lucci a warning himself,bad humour, Character can be read as gn

Headcanons of Rob lucci Begin jealous of his s/o pretty hair

Rob Lucci had always prided himself on his impeccable appearance. His jet-black hair was always perfectly styled, emphasizing his sharp features and icy blue eyes. He exuded an air of confidence wherever he went, and his aura demanded attention. However, a peculiar incident occurred one sunny afternoon when Rob Lucci found himself strolling hand in hand with his lover, (Y/N). They were taking a leisurely walk through a picturesque park, enjoying each other's company and the warmth of the sun on their skin. As a gust of wind ruffled through the trees,Your hair strands shimmered in the sunlight, creating an ethereal glow around you in his eyes, Rob Lucci's eyes widened in amazement as he observed the sight before him ,He never noticed before how ..pretty is your hair is, so radiant,and so strikingly beautiful. The realization suddenly made him feel self-conscious. In that moment, a pang of envy crept into his heart ,he couldn't help but compare his own hair to your own hair. He began to question his once unshakable confidence. Was his hair truly as impressive as he had always believed? Doubts started to consume him, and he fell into an unusual silence, his thoughts turning inward ,he decided he shall try to outshine you,he needed his hair to be as perfect as he is,his perfection should never lack in any aspect,as he always thought himself to have a perfect physics,yet now he realized,he perhaps should have noticed he needed to care for his hair more- "Is something bothering you, Lucci?" You asked, your voice filled with genuine care and affection for him, obvious to the fact that lucci now have a sudden envy of your hair,Rob Lucci hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath , deciding to just compliment you ,to hide the fact he grew a sudden envy of your hair"Your hair is... breathtaking today my dear" (Y/n) eyes widened with surprise,your cheeks darken with bit of Embarrassment,not used to have lucci praise her outside in public" thank you, I appreciate it, I had a lovely morning with trying something new" Lucci eyebrow raise up" a hair product? What kind?" He asks and you chuckle " Coconut oil !" You chirp and you continue walking, lucci follow you,He take a mental note to try that later that night...

At first, Lucc find it difficult to believe that someone could possess hair more beautiful than his own, as He prides himself on his appearance and considers himself almost unmatched in terms of physical perfection. He might initially brush off the idea, thinking it impossible because he is perfect in every way possible (prideful much)

But you are literally so pretty already,you never had a bad hair day and He know because he had Hattori watch you once a whole week,your hair stay as pretty and perfect as it always is,he find himself in a trance of admiration and envy

At some point,Lucci comes to terms with the reality of his girlfriend having more beautiful hair, he would likely observe it in quiet admiration. He might not openly express his thoughts or emotions, but he would secretly marvel at the sheer beauty and elegance of you hair and while trying to figure out your secret (your secret is not murdering people)

Lucci's competitive nature would likely kick in soon enough, and he would view his partner's hair as a challenge to his own perfection. He might start researching hair care techniques, seeking ways to improve his own locks to match or surpass hers. Lucci would not settle for anything less than being the best, even when it comes to hair.

Despite his efforts, Lucci might find it difficult to match the natural beauty of his your hair,at this point his envy of your pretty hair is at it's highest

Lucci will not vocalize his thoughts even if he was held at gunpoint ,he would occasionally drop subtle compliments about your hair,He would choose his words carefully, making sure to maintain his stoic demeanor while conveying his appreciation for your beauty. These compliments would be rare but sincere, serving as rare glimpses into his softer side

Lucci might start experimenting with different hair care products and techniques, driven by a desire to match or surpass your beauty

He went so far to have a secret hair care night with khalifa and made her swear on her life to not tell a soul about it ,they spent basically gossiping while trying to do a hair care routine that khalifa though would help him

At some Lucci would come to accept that his partner's hair is naturally more beautiful than his own just because perhaps you have amazing genes and the lack of murder can give your hair good karma unlike his owm

This probably slightly bruise his ego, but he recognize and appreciate your unique beauty. He would understand that there are aspects of you that surpass his own perfection, and he would learn to embrace and celebrate that rather than feel threatened by it because after all ,you HIS girlfriend so you're basically adding to his perfection (this is how he is coping with this)

Overall, Lucci's reaction would be a mixture of competitiveness, silent admiration, and grudging acceptance because he loves you but he is envious that he can't be perfect in this aspect

He might ask you to spare with him so he can kick your ass and feel superior again,DO not accept it ,let him learn how to be a loser for once (maybe twice if it's after water 7 LMAO)

And perhaps that's how he had his glow up as a Cipher Pol 0 Agent

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #anonymous #one piece rob lucci #Rob Lucci #rob lucci headcanons #rob lucci x reader #owl talk #my beloved #rob lucci one piece #rob lucci #one piece cp0 #one piece cp9 #Cipher pol 0

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adoringhaikyuu · 3 years

Text

when their teammate has a crush on you

characters: kageyama, kenma, oikawa, tanaka

warnings: nothing, just some pouty boys and possessiveness

notes: i stumbled upon @kageyuji‘s take on this while i was writing! so i thought i might as well give them a shoutout!

kageyama:

you already know this boy speaks up with no shame

and he will glare at anyone who gets in his way or on his nerves, especially when they do anything to you

so when hinata doesn’t even try to hide that he likes you, saying boldly “well why should i lie?”

you could only imagine the rage that kageyama is feeling

he doesn’t even want you in the same room as hinata sjkdfghsdj

he will pick either you or hinata up and take you away, depending on the situation

or he’ll take hinata’s face in his hand and just throw him away

but the boy always bounces right back, somehow unharmed and you’re grateful for that

but anyway it’s not that hinata is necessarily trying to break the two of you up, it’s more that he’s genuinely confused as to why you’re with kageyama

“how could you possibly like this bully? is there something wrong with you?”

he got chased by kageyama immediately after saying that––

your eyes widened as you saw a flash of orange jump in front of you as you walked towards the gym, ready to meet kageyama to go home. “y/n! y/n! could you please throw some balls for us?! yachi had to go home but we really wanna practice some more!”

you stepped back and your boyfriend came out of nowhere, practically smacking the other boy out of the air, leaving him to crouch on the ground, clutching the top of his head as he scowled at the dark-haired boy. “calm down you idiot! y/n doesn’t have to if they don’t want to! they’re probably tired anyway and just wanna go home.” he turned to you and gave you a small smile. “you wanna go?”

you looked between the two. “i mean...i can help you guys practice for a little bit.”

the other boy sprung up again. “oh! thank you! thank you!”

your boyfriend bowed his head quickly. “thank you.”

you smiled up at him and he felt his cheeks redden. “of course, tobio.” a smile spread on his face as well but it was short-lived as hinata spoke up, suddenly inches away from the two of you.

“what’s up with your face? why do you look like that?”

kageyama scowled down at him. “nothing’s wrong with my face! what’s wrong with your face?!”

“why are you yelling at me?!” hinata turned to you, “he’s so mean! how are you with him?” he looked down and mumbled to himself, “i wouldn’t treat you like this...”

kageyama’s eyes widened with rage. “what was that?!”

“n––nothing!” the smaller boy backed up, eyes wide with fear.

“you know what? we’re leaving.” kageyama stormed into the gym and quickly got his things, ignoring hinata’s pleas.

“aw what? why?! come on kageyama!” he turned to you, “y/n please––”

suddenly you were facing your boyfriend’s back as he stood in front of you to glare at the other boy. “don’t even think about it. we’re done for today.” he turned to you and grabbed your hand, tightening his hold when you waved goodbye to a pouting hinata.

when you were almost off the premises you looked up at kageyama. “you know you’re kinda hot when you’re jealous,” you smirked up at him and he stuttered in shock.

“what–i–you––”

you laughed and kissed the back of his hand softly, immediately giving him a nosebleed. you handed him a tissue which he gratefully took, glaring at you weakly.

“you know i’m yours, right?”

he swallowed and blinked a couple times before nodding once.

“then you have nothing to worry about, okay?”

he started muttering to himself, the only words you could make out being “idiot” and “dumbass”. you placed your hands on his cheeks and he stopped and looked down at you, eyes wide.

“okay, tobio?”

he nodded. “okay.” he paused. “but that doesn’t mean i’m going to be nicer to that idiot––”

you laughed. “yeah baby, i know.”

kenma:

let’s say you’d been dating kenma for a while now, a little lowkey

and everything is fine, everything is going really well

kenma likes it when you hang around the team, the team likes you

you’re like a part of the squad

and kenma’s feeling great about it

until lev comes along––

kenma already doesn’t like this boy, he doesn’t even know how to hit a ball properly––

but when kenma notices the way the tall boy blatantly stares at you during practice, the way he always tries to butt into your conversations and show off to you...

kenma’s practically radiating angry chihuahua energy, the air around him red and he looks like he’s two seconds away from biting––

if lev interrupts your convo w him sometimes he’d just stare at the boy deadpanned and go back to his conversation with you, “anyway–”

or he’d take your hand and lead you away

or he’d literally just say “go away, lev.” and the poor boy would just pout and whine, “aww what? why?”

one time lev tried to tag along on one of your dates and you had to step in front of kenma so he wouldn’t kick the boy in the shins or something

lev really wasn’t trying to do any harm, he was just a big lanky puppy who had a little crush on you

but still, kenma wasn’t having any of that

kuroo leaned on the wall next to where kenma was leaning against it, sipping his water during their ten minute break. he smirked down at his friend teasingly, “so what are you gonna do about your new competition?”

kenma wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, putting the bottle on the floor as he practically snarled. “shut up.”

“woah,” kuroo smiled, raising his hands up in mock surrender. “put your claws away, man. i’m just asking.”

kenma simply grumbled in response, making his friend laugh.

“well you should think fast cause it looks like he’s getting real close to y/n right now––”

kenma’s head snapped up immediately and his jaw clenched when he took in the sight across the gym. lev was lying on the bench, practically half his body folded, his legs bent on the ground, his head on your lap, his eyes closed.

kenma huffed and stomped over to you two, some of his other teammates jumping out of his way when they felt the almost deadly aura around him. he stopped right in front of you and you looked up at him.

he blinked. “why is lev on you?”

you shrugged, “he said his head was hurting and then just plopped his head in my lap.”

said boy finally opened his eyes and perked up, “oh hi kenma! my head’s been hurting from all this hard practice so i thought i’d rest a bit.”

your boyfriend’s eye twitched. “on y/n?”

“yeah!” the boy smiled, somehow completely oblivious to the setter’s rage. “they’re real soft, you know––”

“yes.” kenma interrupted, blunt as ever. “i know.”

noticing the increasing tension, you spoke up. “hey lev?” he looked at you happily. “your head’s feeling better now, right?”

“well i guess so...”

“maybe you should go get some water and some fresh air then, yeah?”

he pouted, “but maybe i should stay for just a little longer–” kenma was about to pop a blood vessel.

“trust me,” you guided him up gently. “this is what’s best for your health.”

as soon as he agreed and walked away from you, you looked up at your boyfriend with a smile on your face and pat your thighs. he eagerly took lev’s place and looked up at you with a furrow in his brows that you were quick to smooth out with your thumb, smiling when he visibly melted at your touch. you ran your fingers through his scalp to calm him down and he purred, leaning into your hands.

“stupid lev...” he mumbled to himself and you laughed, leaning down to kiss his forehead, making him blush immediately.

“you have nothing to worry about, okay? i’m yours.”

he blinked, trying to calm his heartbeat, a small smile on his face. “good.”

oikawa:

alright let’s switch things up a lil bit and mention someone i’ve personally like never seen mentioned in this scenario

let’s say mad dog likes you

oh boy

so at first oikawa thinks he’s seeing things

but once he notices how kyoutani opens the door for you, the way his eyes linger on you a little more when you come to practices or to the games, the way he gives you a small smile every now and then––

kyoutani doesn’t smile for anybody!!––

oikawa’s eyes narrow and he gets a bad feeling in his gut

otherwise known as jealousy

now he knows you’d never leave him or anything like that, but the fact that you start getting closer to the walking time bomb and you become the only other person that he listens to besides iwaizumi––

oikawa doesn’t like that at all

he’d get all pouty and would literally drag you away from your conversations with the younger boy, almost whimpering when he glares and practically growls at him

“where is y/n-chan??” oikawa asked to no one in particular, his hands on his hips.

kindaichi stopped and picked up one of the stray balls on the floor, “oh i saw y/n outside with kyoutani.”

“what?!” oikawa pracitcally shrieked, making the younger boy jump. he mumbled to himself, “i swear we need to get mad dog a collar with bells on it––” he stomped over to where the two of you were, a strained smile on his face as he noticed you laughing, kyoutani’s cheeks slightly pink.

“well what do we have here?” he said forceful but cheerful.

you looked to your boyfriend with a smile and kyoutani simply glared at him, but then again, that was just his face. “oh we were just getting some fresh air. are you done practicing your serves?”

“i sure am.” he smiled, pulling you close to him by your waist and pressing an obnoxiously loud and wet kiss to your cheek which you immediately wiped off with a grimace, which he did not appreciate. “y/n-chan!” he whined, “that’s not very nice!”

“well don’t make it so wet next time,” you rolled your eyes.

noticing the other boy still hadn’t made a move to leave, your boyfriend spoke up. “shouldn’t you be leaving now, mad dog?”

you smacked his chest and he yelped. “don’t be so rude, tooru. he was keeping me company while you did your extra practice, you know.”

he pouted and looked to the ground.

“i should be getting home, anyway.” the blond spoke up gruffly. his eyes softened almost imperceptibly as he looked at you. “see you, y/n.”

you smiled, “bye kyou.”

“bye mad-dog!” your boyfriend practically sang, as he looked over his shoulder at the boy leaving. he turned back to you and you pursed your lips at his behavior, making his shoulders droop in shame.

“you’re such a big baby, you know that?” although you insulted him, your voice was soft and he couldn’t help but smile at the way you cooed at him, your hands holding his cheeks. “but you’re my baby, okay? stop worrying so much about kyoutani.”

he nodded. “okay...” his eyes widened hopefully, “can i get a kiss please?”

you smiled and shook your head, before leaning in. he really was a baby sometimes.

tanaka:

you already know this boy is loud

and he likes to show off what’s his because he’s just so proud that you’re his and he loves to fawn over you

so he’ll always have a hand on you, an arm around you and he’ll always shower you in compliments whenever he sees you

a total simp

and that’s just in general

so when his friend likes you ??? bruh

let’s just say nishinoya thinks you’re kinda cute,,, okay really cute and his crush only (unwillingly) grew for you after you started dating tanaka and hanging out with them all the time

he’d be really excited whenever you were around, a pink tint covering his cheeks, a smile glued to his face

he’d try to show off during practice and games, looking to you after he lands a successful rolling thunder

and tanaka would be growling in the corner sdfghj

he’d literally try to one up his friend immediately and would scream to you in the stands “I LOVE YOU BABY THIS ONE IS FOR YOU!!”

after they win he’d pull you into a crushing hug and give you loud kisses all over your face

he’d do the most and then he’d smile all smug making sure everyone including nishinoya saw

you laughed as noya jumped several feet in the air to high five you after winning their game, a bright smile on his face. “did you see that last receive i did y/n? did you?”

you nodded, laughing. “yes i did noya, it was really impressive.”

his cheeks turned pink and he ducked his head, scratching the back of his head nervously as he waved you off. “ah it wasn’t all that...it was pretty good though, huh?”

before you could respond, you saw a flash of movement in front of you before you were suddenly being hoisted into the air. you gasped and wrapped your arms and legs around your boyfriend, “ryu!––”

“hey baby!” he practically yelled, smiling up at you and not so subtly walking away from his best friend with you in his arms. “did you see me hit that last spike? your man looked pretty good out there, huh? better than everyone else right?”

daichi who was walking by the two of you quickly hit the back of tanaka’s head in warning, hearing his words. “watch it––”

tanaka turned his head, “uh i mean you looked great too captain! couldn’t have done this without you––”

“yeah yeah,” he walked away, rolling his eyes and you laughed yet again, grabbing your boyfriend’s attention.

he looked up at you with wide eyes, squeezing his arms around you tighter and you smiled, putting your hand on his cheek. he nuzzled into your touch softly and you pressed a kiss to his lips, making him blush immediately. “of course i was watching you, and yes you looked very very good out there. i’m so proud of you.”

he smiled wide but tried to act oblivious when you went on, “you know you kinda interrupted my conversation earlier with––”

“well anyway! i think we should get going now--” he spoke far too loud, walking faster from the gym, making you shake your head at his adorably possessive behavior.

you leaned your head on his shoulder fondly, “you know you can be ridiculous sometimes ryu...”

he huffed quietly, “well you still love me right?”

you smiled. “always.”

3K notes · View notes

retroaria · 3 years

Text

Sapnap: Fluff Alphabet

cc!Sapnap x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

warnings: just swearing

here’s my 500 Follower Event ^o^

A is for Affection (How do they like to show affection?)

sapnap would give you so many compliments omg. he loves making you all smiley and blushy :) he just wants to make sure that you are always aware of the fact that he thinks you’re the most perfect thing to ever exist

B is for Bond (What kind of bond do you guys have? What could your relationship be labeled as?)

the best friend couple!!! sapnap tells you literally everything. any drama going on or any strong emotions he’s feeling, you know about it. most of the time, the second something happens his brain immediately goes “omg i have to tell y/n”. you guys always complain about the same things and get excited over the same things. you are genuinely one of the most important people in his life and he doesn’t know how he’d do it without you.

C is for Comfort (How do they comfort their s/o?)

he will literally drop everything just to hold you and not speak for like hours if you so needed. he strikes me as a naturally comforting person to the people he really cares about so I say he gets an A+ in this department

D is for Dates (What are dates with them like?)

dates with sapnap are either really chill or super fun. he’s the type of guy that would take you to play laser tag or to an arcade or a trampoline park. he’s like a little kid i love sapnap :3

E is for Emotions (How do they express their emotions around you?)

he’s a pretty expressive person when it comes to certain things. at the very least he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve a little so it isn’t hard to tell even if he does try hiding stuff. and like I said he tells you everything.

F is for Fiancé (How long into the relationship before they propose?)

I feel like he’s so young and he really just wouldn’t be thinking about that too seriously for awhile. like he loves you and you guys have talked about having a future together but he isn’t in any rush at all. hell just do it when he feels is the right time not matter how long it takes.

G is for Gentle (Are they gentle?)

it depends on the situation. he’s definitely the type of guy to pick you up from a super comfy position and just body slam you on the bed. but if he can tell you’re not in the mood to play around like that he’ll just sit down and hold you, so yeah he can be gentle. but most of the time be prepared for playful fist fights and getting picked up and thrown every now and then lol.

H is for Hand Holding (How do they like hand holding?)

sapnap always holds your hand. in fact he makes an effort to search for it whenever you aren’t holding hands. and sometimes he’ll even get whiny about it especially with like a lot of people around he’ll be like, “babe, why aren’t you holding my hand :( what if I get lost how are you gonna find me this place is big”

I is for I Love You (Who said “I love you” first?)

he did !! the first time sapnap said “I love you” was probably one of his most confident moments. he was so proud to be able to say it and so sure of himself and his feelings for you.

J is Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

YES OH MY GOD. he gets super jealous and it’s so easy to tell omg. his attitude starts to get like super bad and he is very clearly annoyed by the situation. he won’t ever be too overbearing about it and if you ever feel like he is once you sit him down and explain that he’ll back off a bit. but he’s still gonna be bothered by it so just always remind him that he love him and no one else.

K is for Kiss (What’s kissing them like?)

THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IM ACTUALLY GOING TO BE DESCRIPTIVE SO IM SORRY IF ITS CRINGE. anyways, he’d be a pretty deep kisser but not like full on making out every single time. he just likes to make them last and he isn’t one to just give you random kisses all throughout the day so it always feels special. kissing him makes you feel all warm and happy inside.

L is for Love Language (What’s their love language?)

sapnaps love language is quality time or acts of service!! i’d say mainly quality time. even while long distance he just likes having you on call while he does stuff or even just complaining to you about how tired he is while actively not going to bed so he can keep talking to you lol. he just likes having you around it’s a huge comfort for him. i say acts of service because he would get so giddy and happy anytime you did something special for him. he would show it off and brag about it forever and it would genuinely mean so much to him aahhajdxh i love sapnap

M is for Memories (Their favourite memory with their s/o?)

For your first time seeing each other irl, sapnap flew to where you live and you guys spent a whole week together. his favorite memories are definitely from that first week of seeing each other in person. of course you guys already had an amazing relationship while long distance, but there’s something so different about finally meeting the person you’re with in real life. it felt like he had to start over from scratch and you guys had to get to know each other all over again. also the idea of now having to build a physical bond. it was just such an amazing and beautiful experience. definitely the one that made him realize he really is in love with you.

N is for Nicknames (Their favourite nicknames given and received?)

IM SO BAD AT THINKING OF CUTE NAMES USHSJDH. probably just babe tho lol. for fem!readers, i can totally picture him using princess in a slightly sarcastic tone.

O is for Open (At what point do they start opening up to you about their life and feelings?)

mmm i’d say he actually starts opening up to you pretty early into the relationship. If you guys were like really close friends before hand he’s definitely already opened up to you. He doesn’t really have that many people in his life that he doesn’t trust.

P is for PDA (Are they into PDA?)

not really but he isn’t like super shy about it if that makes sense ??? like he’s 100% fine with hand holding, hugging, and light pecks when saying hello or goodbye.

Q is for Quiz (How much do they remember about you?)

I don’t think he really tries to remember stuff but he just does and he’s always making connections to you and things he sees and stuff it’s so cute :)

R is for Romantic (How romantic are they?)

he tries but he isn’t exactly the most romantic boy. like I said before you guys have a best friend type of connection so when it comes to romance he doesn’t go too above and beyond because he just doesn’t feel like he needs to. but on special occasions he will do something nice for you. He likes taking you out places !!

S is for Security (How protective/possessive are they?)

very much of both. once again, total sapnap vibes. i’d say he’s a lot more possessive than protective. he would never stop you from doing things like going out without him and having guy friends or making flirty jokes. he trusts you so much partly cus he’s a little narcissistic LMAO. but when a serious threat comes about he can get kinda crazy.

T is for Try (How much effort do they put into the relationship?)

GAAAAAA HE PUTS SO MUCH EFFORT IN!! you would probably be like his first ever serious partner so he would try his best at literally everything. in the beginning of the relationship you could totally tell how nervous he was at times but as you guys got more comfortable he just became an effortlessly amazing bf

U is for Uphold (How do they show you they’re proud? What kind of support do they give you?)

he talks about you so muchjahsjxjxh mostly to dream and george or on stream and he brags about you too. he can get pretty cocky about it but his friends can’t get mad because it’s literally adorable how whipped he is.

V is for Vaunt (Do they like to show off?)

YES OF COURSE !!! it’s sapnap guys…come on. literally any little accomplishment you make is turned into a way bigger deal than it should be because of him. he’s so proud of for literally just existing and he talks about all the cool stuff you’ve done all the time

W is for Wild Card (A random fluff headcanon.)

you guys really like going to different food places and eating different items compared to other places. THIS IS SO RANDOM LMAOO but like…sapnap would definitely have fun doing that

X is for X-ray (How well can they read you and your emotions/feelings?)

mmm he can usually tell if you’re acting strange or being distant. he cant always figure out exactly what’s wrong but he knows it’s something and he would confront you about it like almost immediately or whenever he thought would be a good time for you

Y is for Yearning (How much do they miss their s/o when they’re gone?)

he literally talks about you non stop when you’re apart. and when you guys are on the phone he comes up with all these plans for you guys to do when you see each other again and he always wants you to join vc on his streams if you can. in conclusion he misses you like crazy

Z is for Zebra (What kind of pet would they want with their s/o?)

A CAT!! or like a bearded dragon lol.

IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN GONE FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS HAGSKDHD

school is literally kicking my ass so hard man 😔

i’m gonna try to write more, working on a karlnap weed fic rn too LMAO

I’m taking a major creative writing class rn so between writing for school and writing for tumblr i am so drained but i promise i’ll get back into the swing of things soon :)

love you guys, thank you for everything and stay safe <333

@crackityy @fantasy-innit @joyfullymulti @k-l-a-w-s

#mcyt headcanons #mcyt preferences #mcyt x reader #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #sapnap preferences #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #sapnap headcanons #sapnap imagine #sapnap x reader #sapnap fanfic

284 notes · View notes

yslkook · 3 years

Text

UNFUCKWITABLE (9)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook convinces you to take a staycation with him for a few days (a week).

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, oc and jk discuss their unprotected sex practices, vomiting, some jealous jk, mild exhibitionism, fingers in oc's mouth grinding, making out, oral (m), titjob

word count: 7k

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts. also...cant believe mom manifested into butter jk im in pain

****************************************

Jungkook is unsurprised to enter your home with the key you’d given him the other week and find it completely empty. You’ve been working early mornings and incredibly late nights for the last week and a half, and he can tell it’s beginning to take a toll on you. The first sign that you were beginning to wear down was when you had skipped dinner in favor of sleeping. The second was when you had snapped at him in irritation and then immediately cried over hurting his feelings.

He can think of about a dozen other things, including the even more pronounced bags under your eyes. You’ve always had dark circles under your eyes naturally from hyperpigmentation but these days, not even concealer can help you mask them.

In fact, the reason that you’d even given him a key was because you felt like work was taking over your entire life. You’d hardly had a chance to see anyone who wasn’t a work colleague, and you just missed Jungkook. At least this way, you could wake up and go to bed with him.

You had only been calling Jungkook your partner just shy of four months, and he had a key to your home. Perhaps it was fast for other people, but with him, it felt right. So he keeps a copy of your keys on his lanyard- it’s possibly his most prized possession right now. Jungkook usually only comes when you ask him to, he’s been staying at your place for the last week because of how tired and busy you were.

Usually you stop by the tattoo parlor at least once or twice a week, but you have been sparse because of work. So he’s here, in your home without you. It felt strange the first few times he’d been here without you, but then he started leaving little pockets of himself- his shoes next to yours, his hair product on your shelf, and his two of his jackets hanging near yours in the closet. He’d even purchased a new plant to keep on your windowsill in your living room (which you take turns dutifully watering and making sure she gets enough sunlight).

It’s all very domestic. He had jokingly told you not to expose him to your shared friends, specifically Mina and Mei. To which you had rolled your eyes.

Though some small, very small, part of him wonders if the magic will fade away soon. Considering how fast you both are moving both physically into your home and in your relationship.

It’s only been a few months, and you both were incredibly comfortable with the idea of unprotected sex- after all, Jungkook always pulls out in time. Until, of course, you’d had a pregnancy scare. Hoseok and Yoongi, ever the pair of realists, had scolded him when Jungkook had revealed that you both hardly ever used any protection-

“Are you trying to knock her up? Is that it? You both ready to potentially be parents?” Yoongi says mildly as he polishes off his wine, looking at Jungkook expectantly. Jungkook’s cheeks burn.

“No, I’m not trying to knock her up and no, nobody’s trying to be parents-”

“You both are lucky you haven’t knocked her up already,” Hoseok says, with more heat in his voice, “You both are fucking stupid, but you especially.” He even smacks the back of his head with the book in his hands and Jungkook glares at him.

“Hey, my pull out game has always been strong, and I’m serious about her. We wouldn’t fuck raw if-”

“Oh, yes, then we definitely have nothing to worry about,” Yoongi says, “Keep it moving, Hobi.

“Talk to her about it, or else,” Hoseok threatens, “I don’t wanna hear about another pregnancy scare because you’re both idiots.”

“I know, I know,” Jungkook relents, “We’ve been talking about it. It just sucks that birth control can fuck up a woman’s body like that, you know? Mood changes and appetite changes, nausea and everything…”

“You could always get a vasectomy,” Yoongi says bluntly.

“Mei said the same thing. She was way more mean about it, though. Told me she’d cut my balls off if I didn’t get my shit together.”

“I don’t blame her, considering what a mess you both were last month.”

“We were not a mess!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so stressed ever in your life, not even when your first bike got run over by a car. Or when your tattoo got infected three consecutive times. And I’ve never seen her cry so much before.”

“Alright, maybe we’re a little bit of a mess.”

In the end, you and Jungkook had both decided that yes, condoms were probably a good idea. Considering the pregnancy scare you had last month, you both were on edge and a little paranoid. Jungkook hadn’t even mentioned the idea of you taking birth control or getting an IUD, knowing that your last few experiences with the former were unpleasant-

“I can get a vasectomy, you know. In fact, Yoongi suggested it,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly but your jaw drops.

“Jungkook. I don’t think vasectomies are reversible like that. Think about what you’re saying,” You murmur, “I’m touched you’d consider a surgical procedure so I don’t have to take birth control, but what if-”

“I looked it up, they can be reversed-”

“But Jungkook! You don’t know that, what if you want to have kids later and you can’t because you decided on a fucking whim to get a vasectomy? It’s still trauma on your body! You can’t just snip snap, snip snap your vas deferens tube whenever you please. At least with birth control you can start and stop it, even if that’s not a completely benign process.”

Jungkook looks at you long and hard, his tongue poking his cheek and you sigh. “But I don’t-”

“Honey. I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” You murmur, squeezing his hands in yours, “But we’re both being stupid. We’re both acting like condoms don’t exist. Why don’t we start with condoms and then think about getting your tubes tied or me getting an IUD?”

“You spoiled me,” Jungkook complains dramatically and drops his head to your chest, “With your pussy. I’m spoiled now.”

“Shut up.”

And so now, a box of condoms sits in the drawer of your nightstand and you’ve taken to bringing a few with you in your purse as well (and so does he). You’d been far more nervous buying condoms than you’d ever been of buying anything else, and Jungkook had only cockily grinned at you.

Today’s Friday and it’s the day of your deadline. Meaning that you’d hopefully be home soon and be his for the rest of the weekend. He fully plans on getting you to relax and stay in for the majority of the weekend, so that you can catch up on sleep.

But then you come home past dinner (you had sent him a text earlier telling him that you were going to be late. He knows your mood is sour- you had been in a foul mood all week, and the fact that you’re so close to being home but so far just makes it worse). You come home with an empty belly, a weary mind and wetness along your lash line. Climbing into bed next to him, you circle your arms around his waist and cry tiredly into his chest.

“J-Jungkook,” You hiccup, “I’m so tired, they kept me s-so late today but it’s done. Everything is finished-”

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, rubbing your back soothingly, “It’s okay. We can just sleep now. You should take a few days off next week, baby.”

“I don’t know…” But your eyes are wide and considering it.

“You’ve been running on empty all week,” Jungkook points out, “For longer than that. Your job can handle two or three days without you while you recharge. Text your boss, baby. You need to rest, too.”

He nudges your cheek with his nose and you hum in agreement. “Okay. Five day weekend? Sure you won’t get tired of me?” You murmur and laugh when he squeezes your waist.

“We can make it a staycation.”

And you’re already texting your boss, telling her that you needed a few days off next week. She gives you a thumbs up and encourages you to rest up, making it a point to recognize how hard you’ve been working. She even suggests you take the full week off, which you jump at and Jungkook only grins at you.

“My brilliant girl, charming her way into a full week off.”

You swat his hand away and hide your burning but satisfied face in his chest. “Yeah, your bad habits are rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, that’s not the only thing rubbing off on you,” Jungkook says wickedly and pushes his hips into yours, earning a fierce pinch to his bare waist.

“Hush, I’m trying to nap,” You mumble, your voice muffled. Without warning, you lick his neck and bite lightly at the base of his neck, ignoring his soft yelp. He doesn’t have a chance to question you on what that was, as you’re already falling asleep.

You’ve always thought from the beginning, even when you and Jungkook were just friends, that he was an ass man. You’ve caught him staring at your ass many, many times- in jeans, in a dress, in a skirt. And now that you both are officially together, he spends any and every moment he can with a hand on your ass. Casually, when you both walk side by side. And purposefully when you’re both just in his bed or on your couch. His hand is a well known presence on your ass, not that you’re complaining.

One of Jungkook’s favorite places to nap is on your ass, with his cheek pressed into you and one hand firmly gripping your ass. He also likes laying with his head on your lap. But his favorite place to nap is with his head buried in your chest, specifically buried in between your tits. He is currently analyzing his hypothesis that your right tit is smaller than your left, a thought he’s had for a while now, but needs further samples of evidence to properly assess.

But he’s always had an affinity for your tits, whether you’re blissfully unaware of it or not. You don’t notice it not really- you like any and all of his touches on any inch of your skin, as you’ve told him many times before. Especially when he holds you close next to him or under him and you feel protected, surrounded by only him.

He holds you, looks at you as if you’re as soothing as the sea and as bright as a supernova. And yet, the universe is contained in his big, doe eyes.

But really, at the end of the day, it’s an affinity for you. Jungkook loves every part of your mind, body, and soul, and he thinks he has for a long time. His heart has been tangled with yours since the first time he had seen you years ago at Hobi’s surprise birthday party that you had planned. Jungkook is sure that when he had seen you with a homemade red velvet cheesecake with a ‘Happy Birthday Hobi <3’ written perfectly in red icing in your arms, a silly party hat on your head, and a shy, beaming smile on your lips, he had been magnetized to your center of gravity from then on.

But even then, he had only hovered. Barely introducing himself, if it weren’t for Mina and Mei. He thought he had known girls like you- girls who baked cakes, planned elaborate birthday parties for their friends and wore flowery dresses liked other predictable people. It’s another one of his hypotheses (which has been clearly debunked)- but by now, he knows not to be so judgmental of others.

But he doesn’t dwell on that for long. Even the first time he met you, right after he had introduced himself to you and you had stared at him with starstruck eyes and stammered a quiet ‘hello’ in return, Sora had cornered him. And told him to back off from right then, that you were off limits. That you’d never be interested in a guy like him, so to not even spend a second in his stupid little mind even entertaining the ridiculous idea.

So he backed off subconsciously, thinking it wasn’t worth it to even know you as a friend. He’d convinced himself that it was too much trouble, and Jungkook has always been an easygoing kind of guy in most instances. After all, your best friend would know you best, right? And really, what did he care? As the saying goes, there were about a million other fish in the sea.

However. Even then, with each word uttered between you both, with each laugh that he pulled from your soft mouth, he couldn’t help the reluctant fondness for you that began to bloom. You had surprised him every few months after that, just saying hello at events that you were both present at and asking how he was. With that stupidly beautiful smile and those bright, shy eyes.

You were a smart, kind woman, always remembering details about others. And he was no exception.

That was years ago. He’s known you since your third year at university, hanging by a thread just outside your orbit. But this is now.

This is now, and your lips are against his neck, your chest pressed to his. You climb into his lap haphazardly, nearly knocking your mug off of the coffee table. You both have only just woken up and stumbled out of bed for coffee and breakfast. You had combed the tangles out of his bedhead with his head in your lap, but now sleepiness has washed away and you’re tugging at his oversized shirt.

You promptly bite him, right where his neck tattoo starts and ends. Jungkook meets your eyes with an incredulous, breathy laugh. “What’s gotten into you?” He murmurs, palming your chest from under your shirt.

“Nothing. You just have a very biteable neck, I told you,” You say, resuming your inspection of the vein next to his tattoo, “What a juicy jugular vein-”

Jungkook holds your wrist and flips you so that your back is on the couch. “My sexy vampire girlfriend. Love when she starts talking about my jugular vein.”

“Watch out, I might drink from it. You never know,” You giggle with a wink, squirming in his grip.

“You can do whatever you want,” Jungkook murmurs but then an idea that has been planted in his head for weeks now spills from his lips without him meaning to, “I wanna fuck your tits, baby.”

Your eyes go comically wide, mimicking Jungkook’s own. His cheeks are a little pink from his abrupt confession as silence falls between you both.

“That’s really interesting,” You muse.

“Is it?” He asks, feeling a little lightheaded. You tug a little at his purple locks to pull him down to you.

“Yeah. Always thought you liked booty. And legs,” You shrug, “But I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

Jungkook’s throat is too dry for him to reply coherently. But he finds his voice after you give him a reassuring smile, “Uh, when it’s you, I like everything.”

“Me too. When it’s you, I like everything,” You mumble, heat rising in your cheeks, “And uh… you can. Do that I mean.”

“Do what?” He asks teasingly, tilting his head to the side.

“Don’t play dumb,” You whine, shoving his shoulder.

“C’mon say it,” Jungkook jeers, not unkindly, “Put your big girl panties on.”

“I hate you,” You sigh dramatically, “Fine. You can fuck my tits, if you so desire.” His face splits into a grin as he thumbs your chin and ducks his head into your neck. He playfully nips at your skin, murmuring that he’s just giving you a taste of your own medicine, but you feel his half hard cock pressing against your thigh.

The image of his cock wet and slick between your tits is now imprinted in your mind, and when both of you want something, you’ll surely get it.

Despite your eagerness of making Jungkook’s wish a reality, neither of you have had the chance for your usual shenanigans just yet. You still have quite a few days of your staycation left, so you won’t rush it. You had spent most of the first two days sleeping, cuddling, spooning, eating and lots and lots of slow sex.

You think you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve left your bed. Jungkook has been nothing short of wonderful, bringing you food (just this once, you hate eating while in bed), giving you shoulder rubs and booty rubs without you asking. Your favorite ice cream is in your freezer. Life is good.

His shirt hangs off of your shoulder and you’re too lazy to fix it. In fact you’re too lazy for pajama bottoms, only settling on your favorite pair of comfortable panties (nothing flashy. Just a standard black cotton panty) to wear under your shirt. One might even call them granny panties or whatever, but lace was uncomfortable on your skin. Lace and thongs are for very, very special occasions (hardly if ever) and you are in the comfort of your own home. You’ll be comfortable if it’s the last thing you do.

In fact, you’re too lazy to even raise your head to pucker your lips for a kiss from Jungkook. You only open your arms and hum, as if he’s supposed to telepathically know what you want from him. But he does, and he flops onto you once he tugs his shirt off. Jungkook’s face remains buried in your chest as you gently rub his scalp.

He hums happily, nearly purring at your touch and shoves himself closer into your hold. You can’t believe this man, the man who mildly intimidated you for years, is now in your arms and purring like a baby kitten. He’s admitted a few times that his scalp has been irritated and inflamed ever since he dyed his hair purple. One of his favorite things is to lay in your lap while you massage a mix of coconut oil and peppermint oil into his scalp.

He looks up at you, warm heat blazing in his eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about but he palms your pussy from under your shirt- your still swollen, puffy pussy from the four times he’s made you cum already.

“Can I help you, Jungkook,” You ask flatly, but your poker face breaks when he dots you with kisses up and down your thighs.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jungkook groans, voice slowing to a whine, “I’m still hard, baby, fuck. Help me.”

“How are you still hard,” You wonder with a grin, “Damn, Jeon. You must really like me, huh?”

“If that wasn’t obvious then I’m clearly not doing something right here,” He breathes into your skin.

“Gimme a kiss then,” You murmur, pushing his long hair behind his ear. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light of your bedroom and you trace it gently with your fingertips. Jungkook desperately pushes his lips to yours, parting your lips easily and slipping his tongue into your mouth. He kisses your teeth hungrily, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks.

His hips roll into yours impatiently, hands already pawing at your shirt. The air in your bedroom is suddenly so stifling, thick and nearly choking you both with the intensity of your desire. You just want him to feel good with you.

“Jungkook,” You say softly with warm cheeks, “You can use me, however you want. Tell me what you want, bunny.”

He lets out a quiet gasp, his eyes bright and wide.

You’re both on the same page, because he’s scrambling to chuck his boxers to the side and you’re tossing your shirt on top of his boxers.

***********************

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook groans. He’s breathless, heart racing erratically. All he can do is hold your shoulders as he watches with a piercing, hazy gaze as his cock is swallowed in between your tits. You squeeze them tightly together, trying to create as much friction as you can for him.

“Fuck,” He whines, “Fuck, you look so good, baby. O-oh, shit, my pretty baby, you’re pretty-”

Jungkook nearly cums when you mischievously stick your tongue out to brush against the head of his leaking cock. The visual is almost too much for him and his breaths are choked, strangled as he forces himself to look into your dark eyes.

“So big, bunny, look,” You say softly, “You like this? You’re so hot like this…”

He’s nearly in tears, eyes shining and wet at how good this feels. If your pussy was a slice of heaven, then your tits were the next best thing. You moan softly, feeling your own wetness and heat pooling. Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed, eyes wild and wet as he slides his cock in between the valley of your tits languidly. Almost as if he doesn’t want the moment to end.

You’re so warm, warm everywhere.

His muscles are tense, the furrow in his brow beginning to appear when he’s about to cum. “Shit, baby, oh my god, I love your tits,” Jungkook moans, tossing his head back, “Fuck, I love everything about you-”

You don’t know how he’s able to form coherent sentences to you when he’s this close to cumming. But he’s always been a man of many talents.

“You know what I just realized,” You gasp suddenly, “Neither of us made it official that we’re dating. Like I never asked you ‘out’ and you never asked me ‘out’-”

“Fuck, you talk too much,” Jungkook nearly snarls, “My cock is literally in between your tits and I’m about to fucking cum all over you and you think I belong to anyone else?”

You swallow thickly, Jungkook narrowing his eyes at you. He looks intimidating and intense above you, his powerful, golden thighs straddling either side of you.

“N-no, I was just-”

Jungkook shoots you a glare, reaches behind him and gathers your wetness with two fingers. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to shut you up. You send him a glare right back, but it melts away quickly when you swirl your tongue and suck on his digits.

He cums without warning, hastily and with a broken sort of sound ripping from his throat. It’s warm and sticky as it lands on your chest and your cheek. But he cums so much and much to your chagrin some of his cum gets in your eye and you nearly shriek at the burn.

“Jungkook! What the hell, your cum is in my fucking eyeball-”

He’s still panting above you, like some sort of golden boy, and it takes him a few seconds to register your irritation. “Oh shit,” Jungkook says and jumps into action. He tugs you into the bathroom to gently wash your eye for you (after washing his own hands), with you grumbling the entire time.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You roll your eyes and demand to be taken back to bed and lavished in kisses as penance for his cum shooting into your eye.

Jungkook tastes himself a little when his tongue slips into your mouth, but it hardly registers as he rolls on top of you, caging you in between his arms.

Jungkook fleetingly thinks he should’ve spent more time trying to convince you to stay home with him. Maybe with a few soft, long kisses to your neck, he might have. You looked delectable, good enough to eat- your dress fitted around your hips, nails, hair, and makeup done, the scent of your perfume subtle but not irritating to his sensitive nose.

You had asked him to pick what jewelry to wear, so one of his long necklaces sitting around your neck and disappearing into the valley of your chest. It doesn’t really match with your dress, but you don’t care.

And Jungkook… well, it was difficult for you to keep your hands off of him as well. His hair is tied back into a neat ponytail, he’s wearing a sequined black (fitted) button up with the top four buttons undone, a thick, silver chain and ripped, black jeans. Your eyes are glued to his chest and he knows it- you can’t help but grip his arm, his bicep whenever you can.

Neither of you really enjoyed the club scene, but you had wanted to go out since it had been a really long time and after all, you were on your staycation. Mei had planted the idea in your head, and so now here Jungkook was.

Here he was, catching flashes off the satin, coral colored wrap dress that you were encased in. For someone who doesn’t like the scene, you blend in effortlessly. But you’re a grown woman, so he takes his eyes off of you and orders a round of shots for him, Jimin, Taehyung and Jin while nursing a bottle of soju.

In the midst of the thumping bass bouncing off of the walls in the club, you’re only aware of you and Mei while you both sing along to whatever song is blasting through the club. Mina disappeared a while ago, presumably to find Jimin.

You’re holding two drinks, one in each hand, and all you feel is the vibrations of the club. Along with your own drunkenness. Mei holds your arm to keep you steady as you move your hips in time with hers. You laugh loudly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders at something she said. Everything is amplified and muted at the same time, the swirl of alcohol settling comfortably in your veins.

You’re having a great time with your friends, dancing, swirling, singing and drinking. It’s a nice night to unwind, in the company of dear friends and strangers.

“Hey,” Mei murmurs in your ear, “I gotta pee and I’m gonna go find Seulgi-”

“You can just say that you wanna go find her,” You giggle, “Don’t blame your bladder on it, Mei.”

“Oh, you’re funny. I’ll text Jungkook and tell him to come find you, alright?” Mei says, patting your head. You nod and tell her to go find her girl, and she does. Leaving you to your own devices for a bit, at least until Jungkook makes his way to you.

However, what neither of you realize is that the cell reception in this building is terrible. Mei’s text never goes through and you stay in your bubble, with your two drinks in your hands and bounce along to the music.

You’re not sure how much time goes by, but it feels like you’ve been alone for quite a while. You squint your eyes at your phone to check the time and send a text to Jungkook. A text that never goes through. You frown and are about to turn on your heel to link up with your man (wherever he might be), but you hear a surprised call of your name.

It’s hard to keep the incredulity out of your face when you come face to face with Yunho, the man who had stood you up all those months ago. The air has almost been punched out of your lungs, and you have to squint at him to believe what you’re seeing.

He calls your name again, giving you a wave and a bright smile. “Funny seeing you here, huh?”

“Uh…”

“Can I buy you a drink? I feel like I owe it to you after…” His eyes are sincere. At least you think so, with your drunk goggles on.

“I don’t know, Yunho, it’s okay…” You mumble unsurely, “Isn’t this weird?”

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Yunho says and pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Oh, alright. I guess a drink won’t hurt,�� You shrug and lead the way to the bar. The least he can do for you after standing you up and hurting your feelings is buy you a drink, you think.

“Hey listen, I owe you an apology,” Yunho says, sliding your drink towards you.

“Oh, it’s- it was a long time ago,” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. Sure, it was a hit to your ego, but in hindsight it doesn’t matter. Not when you have Jungkook. Honestly, you’ve forgotten that Yunho had even been a blip in your radar once upon a time. It was only because of Sora, anyway.

“I had something urgent come up last minute that day and I asked Sora to tell you,” Yunho continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t follow up or even reach out to you after. But I’d heard that you were with Jeon now, so didn’t want to… overstep, I guess.”

And even through your drunken haze, you understand. You sigh deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Oh boy,” You groan, “Sora never told me about that but we’re not close anymore, Yunho. It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry she got you, too.”

Yunho’s lips part in surprise, “She didn’t… Alright. What’s done is done, I guess.”

“Yeah,” You murmur airily, “And yes, I am with Jeon. Though I can’t seem to find him…”

“I’m happy to keep you company until you do.”

Despite how well you and Yunho seem to hit it off (most of your time spent bitching about Sora), you can’t help but think of Jungkook. You quite miss him, not having seen him all night in the club. You want to dance with him, and little do you know that he’s been scouring the entire club for you in a frenzy once he ran into Mei and Mina and hadn’t seen you with them.

He had sent them a glare, his jaw clenched and walked away to find you. So when his eyes finally land on you at the bar, after about twenty-five minutes of searching and trying to get through strings of people around you, his heart soars. But he sees you laughing with someone else at the bar. With Yunho.

Jealousy is petty, he tells himself. But he struggles to keep it at bay as it rears its head and comforts him. He’s always been protective and possessive of those he loves and cherishes. You’re definitely no exception.

You wobble a little on your feet, but you hold your own. Even from here, he can see the drunkenness of your smile, beads of sweat as they race down your neck to hide in the valley of your breasts. He zeroes in on your necklace (his) around your neck and reminds himself. It’s his necklace that you’re wearing, after all.

Then why is the man who stood you up all those months ago making you laugh like that?

You must have a sixth sense or something for him, because you turn your head a bit as if you can sense him. Your entire face lights up when you see him, in a way that makes his tough heart swell in adoration.

You make your way over to him with your drink and peck his lips chastely, despite his desire to pull you into his arms and kiss you long enough that your knees buckle. So that Yunho sees that he is yours.

“You disappeared on me, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, adjusting your necklace. He’s gripping it tightly, but you don’t notice.

“I was with Yunho, remember him? ‘Member, he stood me up but he didn’t because it was Sora’s fault-”

“That’s no surprise,” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes. You take his hand, squeezing and introduce him to Yunho. As if he doesn’t know him already. Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like how Yunho looks at you, how his gaze lingers on your skin and the curves of your dress. You lean against Jungkook heavily, absently playing with his fingers. You stay mostly quiet, sipping your drink as the two men speak (rather tersely).

Jungkook knows he’s being ridiculous.

“Kook, finish my drink?” You murmur, offering him the glass. Jungkook maintains eye contact with Yunho as he downs the remainder of your drink in a few solid gulps.

“Was nice to see you, Yunho,” You say, “I think Jimin and Mina are looking for us, Jungkook. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that Jungkook firmly holds your waist, keeping you close to him. You both know that neither Jimin nor Mina are looking for either of you. You’d only wanted to be alone with Jungkook.

So Jungkook leads you to a spot where he knows Yunho can visibly see you both. You let loose, giggling as Jungkook twirls you easily and moving your arms to match the beat of the music. He makes you laugh with his moves, winking at you and shooting finger guns at you as he twirls and swivels around you. He’s always been a great dancer, you realize. That’s funny, because you’re sometimes clumsy on your own two feet. He pulls you into him, his chest to your back and his hips pressed against your ass. You sigh contentedly, head lolling against his shoulder and you rest your hand over his hand to let him lead you.

His nose is buried in your neck, lips lightly brushing your pulse. He bites your earlobe gently, earning a soft laugh from you. Jungkook tilts your jaw to the side to meet your eyes and plants a deep kiss to your glossy lips. He holds you steady when your knees weaken, your belly flipping at the intensity that he pours into you.

Jungkook is all around you, encasing you within his arms and there’s not a single place you’d rather be. When you pull away for air, you thumb away your gloss on his bottom lip and bite his bottom lip gently.

“I adore you,” You say dreamily, “You are so… Everything. Everything. I adore you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks burn, but he ducks his head for another sharp kiss. And if Yunho is watching him shove his tongue down your throat and holding your hips to his possessively then that’s fine by him.

The journey back home is a quick one (after you both stop for fried noodles, despite the inevitable heartburn it’ll give you both the next day but you’re both so hungry). You both stumble into your home in a mess of giggles and groping, nearly falling to the floor due to your clumsiness.

Jungkook has been hard since he kissed you in the club, in front of Yunho. He knew Yunho had been watching, feeling the man’s eyes on you both the entire time. His jealousy has crawled back into the box that it was unleashed from, but he knows that’s something to revisit later.

Something else to revisit is that he liked that someone else was watching him with you. He stores that information for later, instead focusing on keeping you upright from falling.

Somehow, through your blurry vision and wobbly legs, you get on your knees and palm Jungkook’s cock through his pants. A shameless moan rips through you- any and every inch of him makes you dizzy with desire.

You like him so much that it nearly makes you cry.

“Gonna blow you now,” You announce happily, fumbling with the button of his jeans and using all of your concentration and strength to pull his pants down along with his boxers. You sloppily kiss your way down his chest, spending extra time on his tattoo and licking (then biting) his happy trail before humming around his leaking cock.

He’s so wet already, and it’s all because of you.

Jungkook groans, eyes closing in pleasure as your pretty mouth wraps around his cock. He thrusts lightly into your mouth, peeling his eyes open to watch you. Only to find you already staring up at him, your makeup smudged and tears already forming in your pretty eyes. He cradles your cheek affectionately, stroking your cheekbone-

But before he can compliment you, softly praise you, he hears a noise. It originates from the back of your throat, something both familiar and unfamiliar. You gag uncontrollably around his cock, and while it’s certainly not the first time it’s happened, it’s different this time. Because you’re a little drunk. So he should be unsurprised when you retch on his cock, pull yourself off of him before your drunk self can get any more vomit on his cock and sprint into your bathroom.

You manage to lock the door in your frenzy of utter humiliation and alcohol addled mind. You hover over the toilet bowl, the sounds of you throwing up bouncing off of the walls. You’re crying, sobbing more like it- from both the pain in your chest from vomiting violently into the toilet bowl coupled with the humiliation of quite literally throwing up on your boyfriend’s cock.

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, as if that’ll erase the memory.

“Baby,” Jungkook calls softly, his cock fully hanging out in the open, “Baby, please open the door. It’s not a big deal, but I need to wash my dick off.”

You let out a choked, watery laugh at that and move to flush the toilet and rinse your mouth out. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you unlock your bathroom door, and you can’t bear to look Jungkook in the eye. But he holds your wrist to his when you try to escape into the safety of your bedroom.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest, heat flooding your ears in shame. It feels like your head is empty, static filling up the spaces that the silence between you both doesn’t.

“It’s just me,” Jungkook coos, “Do you want to shower with me?”

“Jungkook, ‘m absolutely mortified,” You say flatly, voice a little high in pitch as fresh tears burning behind your eyelids, “I want to evaporate from this plane of existence in about three-point-four seconds, I literally threw up on your penis, I’m so sorry. Don’t even look at me-”

Jungkook winces at your tone and the way your shoulders are hunched, hands gripping the hem of your dress unsurely.

“Baby,” Jungkook sighs, “It’s really okay, there’s nothing to apologize for. Come shower. The vomit is drying on my dick-”

But that’s the wrong thing to say because you start to cry immediately, shoving your face in your hands. Jungkook sighs, mentally kicking himself and running a hand through his purple locks. He calls your name softly and pulls you into his arms for a tight hug, despite the drying vomit on his dick, which is hanging out and brushes against your hip. You sniffle, peeking at him with shy eyes and he rubs your back soothingly.

“When I say it’s okay, I mean it,” Jungkook murmurs into your hair, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how drunk you were. I know you feel embarrassed, but it’s just me, baby.”

He kisses you, despite your protests, and helps you rinse your mouth again. You allow Jungkook to somehow maneuver you into the shower, peeling you out of your clothes. You feel grimy and sticky from the club and you’re grateful for the cool water against your skin. You stand behind Jungkook, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face in between his shoulder blades, letting him wash himself.

“Can I wash you?” You whisper, voice unsure. You feel awful, cheeks burning but still. He nods and you take your body wash and lather him with it, washing his now limp dick gently and swallowing nervously.

“See? Not a big deal,” Jungkook says, coaxes you out of your nervousness, “Lemme wash you, baby.”

And so he does, taking your loofah and gently rubbing your skin. Under the cool spray of water, your nerves slip away with each giggle and kiss that he pulls and plants from your lips. Your eyes are still a little shy, a little slick with alcohol. But it’s just Jungkook, and you’re safe with him.

Jungkook nearly wrestles you to get you to eat something more, after throwing up the remainder of your guts after you both had showered (it was mainly just water and alcohol at this point). You’re nearly falling asleep on his shoulder but he manages to shake you awake for a slice of leftover noodles and two glasses of water. But eventually, he coaxes you into eating with a few kisses, hugs, and shoulder rubs.

Once you both are in bed, Jungkook wraps himself around you, his hands immediately drifting below your sleep shirt to your belly. Your cheeks burn as the events of the night replay in your mind’s eye and you press your face into your pillow with a groan.

“I can’t believe I threw up on your dick a-and you’re so nice a-about it,” You mumble, “You really are everything.”

“Well, what else am I going to do if the girl I like vomits on my dick,” Jungkook murmurs, “Don’t worry about it, baby. It happens.”

“To who? Only to me,” You say sadly, “I drank too much. I’m sorry, Kook-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook says, tightening his arms around you and kissing your forehead, “I promise it’s okay. I promise I’m not looking at you any differently.”

His words make you relax in his hold and you nod. Jungkook tilts your jaw towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t say anything else after that, only allowing your soft, breathy sighs to spill out of your lips and into him with every comforting kiss and every slip of his tongue in your mouth.

He tells you to rest in between kisses, but your eyes are already closed.

**************************************

MOM TAGS: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505 @dreadity @mysugarkoo @ultraanonymousey @moonchild1 @fan-ati--c @yeotan07

TAGS: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fluff

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spacexcowgirl · 3 years

Text

Hate To Think About You With Somebody Else - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N used to be friends with benefits, but that arrangement ended in heartbreak. Can Fred handle seeing her out with somebody else?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, small bit of violence/fight scene (the reader and Fred are not injured), possessive talk, fingering, degradation, bondage, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a bit angsty with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

A/N: For @theweasleytwinsgirl who asked for the reader teasing Fred, leading to her being tied up! I added a bit of plot to it, because I cannot help it. Obviously, this fic is lightly inspired by “Somebody Else” by The 1975. I am not very confident in my smut writing abilities, so any feedback would be appreciated! I also feel I should thank @lumosandnoxwriting for giving me advice and reassurance throughout writing this. Pictures are from Pinterest.

I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut.

Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia sat leisurely around the twins’ shared living room, laughing and giggling over drinks. The past few weeks had been hell at the shop, so the boys felt they needed a much deserved night to just relax. Previously, Fred would have liked nothing more than to relieve his tension with Y/N, but unfortunately, that was no longer an option.

“Have you heard about Y/N and Pucey?” Angelina prodded with a giggle, her eyes alit with mischief.

Fred’s jaw immediately clenched at the sound of her name, his grip on his glass tightening. He most certainly hadn’t heard about her in a few weeks, and he hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of her name. Regaining his composure, he forced himself to relax a bit and quirk a brow, feigning both confusion and interest.

“No? They shagging?” George questioned, sitting forward in his seat.

“Apparently, but I guess it’s becoming a bit more serious than just that.” Angelina shrugged, turning her gaze to Alicia beside her for confirmation. When the second girl nodded, Fred downed another gulp of his drink.

That can’t be right, he thought. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time they had been together, Y/N pinned beneath him as breathy moans escaped her lips. In the dim light of his bedroom, she had whispered to him that her pussy was his, that she was his, and now, apparently, she was with someone else. Some part of him knew that he had no right to be upset, because truthfully, it was his choice to end their little arrangement. But she had left him no choice after breaking their number one rule.

Y/N and Fred had ventured past friendly acquaintanceship about a year before, after a few too many firewhiskys at an infamous Weasley twins’ party. The morning after, they had tiptoed around each other, clearly uncomfortable by the change in dynamic. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again, and again, and again. Before either of them had really realized it, they had become much more than friends but much less than really together, and Fred wanted to keep it that way. He wanted them to remain in that middle ground.

As far as he knew, Y/N was more than fine with where they stood with each other. Until one day, she wasn’t. He remembered clearly how she had bit her lip and gazed at him, only moments after finishing him off with her mouth. He had looked at her curiously, wondering where her usual, joking, post-coital self had gone.

“Have you ever thought of me as more than, you know, just an easy fuck?”

Her words had shocked him, because they certainly weren’t the turn of phrase he would have used. He didn’t think of her as ‘an easy fuck,’ he thought of her as a friend. Someone he cared deeply for. But as he gazed into her desperate eyes, he was struck with the realization that he didn’t care for her the way she hoped. He had swallowed deeply, preparing his words in his mind, before shattering her heart.

Now, he wasn’t sure why he cared. Sure, he had thought about her a lot in the weeks they’d been apart, but he was always so sure that he had made the right choice. Relationships were messy, and he was young, so he had no intention to be tied down so soon. Still, the thought of her with Adrian Pucey made his blood boil, and he wished desperately that he could put an explanation to the feeling.

“Fred?”

The sound of his name tore him from his thoughts of Y/N, and he quickly plastered on his signature goofy grin before sitting forward and re-immersing himself in the conversation. Still, in the back of his mind, images of Y/N and Adrian played on repeat, fueling a fire that he hadn’t realized was a lit within him.

A week later, Fred found himself at a party at Oliver Wood’s flat, celebrating a win for Puddlemere United. There was an array of different people there, ranging from his old Hogwarts team, to groupies, to people who had just showed up at the mention of a party. Fred had planned on getting drunk that night, but after seeing George and Lee sloppily grinding on a few witches in an intoxicated bliss, he decided maybe—for once—he would be the responsible one.

Fred had gone nearly an hour, just barely nursing a glass of firewhisky and chatting with old friends jovially, before his eyes landed on a familiar face entering the party.

Fred was frozen at the eye contact they held, his first time seeing her in weeks. Y/N held the gaze for a moment, before turning to grip Adrian’s wrist behind her and drag him further into the party. If Fred thought he had a strong reaction to hearing about their relationship, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Fred slammed his drink down and walked away from the poor girl he had been chatting with without so much as an explanation.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fred clapped a hand down on George’s shoulder the moment he reached him, pulling his attention away from the girl dancing against him.

“Now?” George questioned incredulously, his brows raising. He gestured to the girl in his arms before returning a pleading look to his brother. “Come on, mate. This isn’t a great time.”

Fred knew he could convince his brother to leave if he explained, but his mouth felt entirely too dry. He couldn’t seem to formulate the words as to why he needed to get out of there. So, instead, he sighed and offered his brother a nod before retreating back to the outskirts of the people dancing.

Normally, Fred was the life of the party. By this point in the night, he’d usually be plastered and singing or dancing with no remorse. But seeing Y/N with a bloke like Pucey caused him to have an entire demeanor change, leaving him scowling leaned against the wall.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Y/N amongst those dancing, pressed closely to Pucey behind her. She was dancing provocatively, even turning in the man’s grasp every little bit to kiss him sloppily. At first, Fred had been almost certain that she was doing it on purpose. The way she was right in his line of vision, acting completely out of character in her open demeanor, it all felt like too much for him to handle.

Then, she made eye contact with him, and held it, and he just knew. She was doing it on purpose. All of her actions had been a way to get him worked up, to see if he would get jealous, and dammit it was working. Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze as she grinded her bum against Pucey. She held his gaze as she slowly craned her neck and pulled Adrian into a searing kiss, her eyes back on Fred the moment the two pulled apart.

That was the final straw for Fred. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she taunted him so openly, showing him everything he was missing. So, he pushed through the crowd of people and found his way to the two of them, ignoring the small smirk that had risen on her face.

“Y/N,” He breathed out, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. Suddenly, he was entirely unsure of his next move, but he desperately wanted to regain control over the situation. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oi, what the hell, Weasley?” Adrian paused his dancing, although his hands remained gripped on Y/N’s waist. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?”

Fred completely ignored the man at first, his eyes never leaving Y/N. He could see by the look on her face that he had played exactly into what she wanted, but with the jealousy coursing through him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She smirked slightly at Fred before craning her neck to look back at Adrian, almost as if she were challenging him to fight for her further.

“I can see,” Fred seethed, finally looking up at Adrian. “I can see a poor girl not having a very good time. So, I’m offering her a better option. Why don’t you let her decide?”

Adrian scoffed, taking a small step back from Y/N but keeping one hand on her hip. He looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her to deny any desire to go off with Fred. When she simply glanced between the two of them, Adrian’s brows furrowed and a look of offense overtook his features.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Tell him.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, the action only infuriating Adrian further. He looked at her incredulously before scoffing and turning his head away.

“Should’ve known a desperate little slut like you couldn’t be loyal.”

In an instant, Fred pushed Y/N out of the way and landed a hard blow to Adrian’s jaw. Y/N was dazed, everything seeming to move in slow motion as all eyes turned on them. Adrian had faltered only for a moment, cupping his jaw in his hand before straightening up and lunging towards Fred.

Luckily, George and Lee were there after a moment, tearing Adrian away and threatening to pummel him as they marched him towards the door. Y/N knew Fred wouldn’t need their help in a fight, but she was still grateful that a full out brawl hadn’t occurred because of her. Y/N rushed to Fred, cradling his fist in her hand and glancing up at his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, but the music had stopped, so he could hear her.

“‘m fine.” He answered curtly, glancing between the way she held his hand and her eyes. “So, can we get out of here?”

Y/N’s lips formed into a tight line, so as to conceal the smirk that desperately wanted to break through. She offered him a quick nod, and in an instant he was dragging her out the door and apparating her back to his flat.

The moment that they were in Fred’s room and the door shut, his lips were on hers. Her back was pressed up against his door, desperate little moans leaving her mouth as she reveled in the feeling of having him against her once more. Fred took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted, taking full control of the situation.

Y/N was more than content to let him take over, having missed him in their time apart more than she would ever like to admit. Of course, the feelings she still held for him lingered strongly, but she tried not to think about that as Fred pressed himself further against her. Adrian had been nothing more than a distraction, a feeble hope that she had held onto as a way to get over the tall red head, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She felt a bit bad, because she knew Adrian cared about her far more deeply than she did him, but she also knew she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. The irony was sickening.

“That was quite a show you were putting on tonight.” Fred pulled away from her breathlessly, his eyes tracking up and down her body.

“Yeah?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun.”

A low growl crawled out of his throat as he pressed his lips to hers once more, using more force than previously. Y/N squeaked at the intensity, but quickly melted into him. His hands trailed up and down her sides as she rested her own around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Fred’s hands finally made their way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach and sending a shockwave throughout her. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up, raising her shirt up in his wake. Y/N was quick to oblige, breaking away from him to allow him to tear the garment off completely.

For a moment, Fred’s eyes trailed over her slightly revealed form, drinking in the way she looked half-naked. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her like this, and he found that his breath hitched at even the littlest bit of exposure.

As his eyes met her pleading ones, he quickly recovered. Their passion resumed in an instant as he pressed his lips to hers once more, spinning her away from the door and walking her backwards towards his bed. Y/N allowed him to lightly push her back onto it, her heart fluttering at the sudden gentleness of his actions. She’d always loved the dominance he held over her, but something about what was happening between them now felt different. But, as he draped his body over her own, all of her hopes of actual romance melted away and her mind was entirely clouded with just the appeal of him.

Y/N arched herself against Fred, giving him the space to unclasp her bra. He slid the straps down her arms slowly, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, until he finally met the tops of her breasts. He cast her bra aside, shooting her one last look before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned at the contact, her fingers immediately threading themselves through his flaming hair. As his teeth gently grazed her nipple she gave his hair a tug, causing him to moan against her.

Fred continued his trail downward, planting kisses down her torso until he made it to the band of her leggings. Y/N lifted her hips and Fred held eye contact with her as he slowly pulled them down her legs. Y/N realized that he seemed to be drawing all of this out, pushing her to the point of pure desperation to make her pay for teasing him all night. Still, she bit her tongue and held back any thoughts of pleading with him, she couldn’t give in that easy.

When she was left in nothing but her panties, Fred sat back on his knees and leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Y/N watched him intently, her frustration increasing significantly, until she could no longer contain it. She let out a desperate whine, pleading with the man with her eyes alone.

“Something wrong, love?” Fred cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“Freddie,” Y/N whined, the nickname feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue.

Fred discarded his shirt before circling his hand around on of her ankles and hitching it up on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle before slowly trailing kisses back up her leg towards her thigh. Y/N shuttered as his lips ghosted over her clothed pussy, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Please.”

Fred looped one finger under the hem of her lace panties, but made no effort to pull them down. When a low chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Her eyes flew open once more, immediately meeting his darkened, lust-filled ones.

“Did you really think I’d give in that easy?” Fred mocked, punctuating his question by snapping the band of her underwear. “You tease me all night, putting on a show for me, acting like a desperate little slut.” He paused to wet his lips, drinking in the soft moan that escaped from her lips. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Freddie.”

“Really?” Fred scoffed, sitting back up to begin fiddling with his belt. Y/N raised herself up on her forearms, desperation and arousal pooling in her core. “Because it didn’t seem that way tonight.” Fred’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as he gazed at her hungrily. “Think maybe I might need to remind you whose slut you are. What do you think?”

She whimpered, but managed a feeble nod. In their previous times together, her and Fred were nothing if not adventurous in the bedroom. Still, as he waved his wand and bound her wrists to his headboard, she couldn’t help but gasp and lightly fight against the restraints. Fred held a devilish smirk at her plight as he stood from the bed and sat his wand back down.

Fred crawled back over her, his intense dominance faltering for just a moment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Still remember the safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” She managed to speak, although it was difficult. Fred leaned back and searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her lips. After that, any sense of gentleness faded.

Fred’s lips sucked and bit at her neck hungrily, one of his large hands trailing down to rub her through her panties while the other massaged her breast. Y/N’s thighs clamped around his hand, which quickly earned her a light swat to her hip.

“Stay still, or I’ll have no problem tying your legs up too.” Fred growled against her neck.

Y/N quickly obliged, spreading her legs further open. While previously she may have been more inclined to push Fred a bit, her mind was too clouded with lust to do anything but obey him. After weeks of mediocre sex with Adrian, she was ready to completely give herself over to Fred, and let him have her in anyway he wanted.

Fred’s hand pushed the fabric of her panties aside, allowing one finger to drag through her wet folds. She was already soaking wet for him, despite the fact he’d hardly touched her. Without a warning, he plunged one finger into her, lightly moaning at the way she constricted around him. Y/N’s back arched ever so slightly against him, tugging futilely against her bound wrists. He set a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out of her before adding another and scissoring the two. He changed pace after a moment, beginning to curl his fingers up into her as his thumb rubbed circles against her waiting clit. The pressure in her core grew quickly from that, and she couldn’t help the way she loudly moaned out.

“Right there, yes, oh god…”

Fred was now smirking as he pulled away from her neck, significantly satisfied with the many markings he’d left as well as how quickly he could bring her to this point. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he knew her signs for when she was close, and it made it so much easier to enact his plan.

Just as Y/N was teetering on the edge, desperate whines and random babbles leaving her lips, Fred pulled his hand away. She let out a frustrated and confused groan, her eyes flying open as she felt the build up slowly slip away. Fred just grinned at her, before getting off the bed and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers. He lazily stroked himself as he took her in, chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, completely at his mercy. She had stopped her attempts at fighting her restraints, looking at him like she were almost defeated. In her mind, she’d begun to fear the very real possibility that Fred wouldn’t let her cum at all.

“You seem frustrated.” Fred cooed mockingly, coming to lean back over her and gently brush her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fred.” Y/N spoke firmly, though her eyes portrayed her fears. “You’ve got to let me finish.”

“Hm.” Fred seemed to ponder that, leaning back to slowly pull her panties down her legs. “I don’t think I have to do anything. In fact, I could just leave you here all tied up and needy.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Fred tutted, finally discarding her panties aside. He leaned down near her ear once more, his warm breath sending a chill down her spine. “What I’d really like, though, is to hear how much you need me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Freddie, I need your cock so bad. Need you to ruin me.” Y/N cried out, losing all sense of dignity as her sex-addled brain took over. Fred had intended to tease her much longer, but her desperate pleas were going straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“That’s all you had to say, love.”

Fred hitched her leg around his hip, gripping his cock in his free hand. He teased the head through her wet folds, shivering at the moan she let out from just the smallest contact. Then, he pushed his hips forward, not stopping until he was completely buried in her. Their low moans mixed together in the quiet of the room, Fred being careful not to move until he was sure she had adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, I forgot how fucking good you feel.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

“Move… Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Fred pulled out about halfway before snapping his hips back forward, setting a brutal but steady pace. Y/N’s loud moans and Fred’s grunts mixed together, accompanied only by the sound of their skin on skin contact. Y/N could feel her orgasm building again as his dick hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she was almost embarrassed by how quickly he could bring her to this point.

“‘m so close, Freddie.” Y/N breathed out, knowing it would only infuriate him further if she came without his permission.

“Already?” Fred scoffed, although he knew he wasn’t far behind.

Still, he wasn’t ready for things to end so soon, so he pulled out completely, ignoring the desperate whine that left her throat. He pulled both of her legs together and pushed her knees up against her chest, holding her ankles together with one hand before thrusting back into her desperate cunt. The new position allowed him to hit deeper within her as he thrust downward, causing Y/N to scream out. The pain was delicious, it was everything she had longed for in their time apart.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” Fred grunted, landing a particularly hard thrust into her. “After everything you pulled tonight?”

“Please.” Y/N whined. She was so close, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he stole another orgasm from her.

“Answer the question, slut.” Fred demanded, his pace quickening ever so slightly. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A desperate little cum slut.”

“Yes.” Y/N cried out. “But only for you, Freddie. Just a slut for you.”

“That’s right.” Fred’s rhythm had begun to falter, approaching his own orgasm quickly. Still, he was unsure if he’d let her finish or not. “You’re my little slut. Only I get to call you that, right?”

“Yes, Freddie.” Y/N whined, beginning to tug again on her restraints. She wanted nothing more than to scrape her nails down his back, but being completely at his mercy turned her on endlessly.

“Good.” Fred was close, so fucking close, but he had made his decision. So he had to hold off. “Cum for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and as Fred hit one more thrust into her g-spot she was tumbling over the edge. Electricity seemed to shoot all throughout her body as she loudly moaned out his name. Her legs were shaking and she was certain she’d be sore tomorrow, but she had little time to care about that as he continued to pound into her.

Y/N knew Fred well, just as well as he knew her, so she knew he was close. Her mind felt almost entirely blank and she wasn’t sure she had much energy for anything, but she wanted to bring him to his release badly. So, she clenched around him, a moan leaving her lips when he stuttered and groaned. His thrusts were faltering significantly, and after a few moments he was crying out her name as he finished in her.

Fred pulled out and dropped her legs before crashing down next to her. He knew that he needed to untie her, but they also both just needed a moment to breathe. All that could be heard was the sounds of their mixed pants as they both came down from their highs. Once he was significantly more relaxed, he gripped his wand and swished it lazily, effectively removing the restraints she was held in.

Y/N hands dropped down and she quickly went to rub at her wrists, but Fred was quick to bat her hands away and do it himself. He examined both wrist closely, seeming to want to ensure that they were okay.

“They weren’t too tight, were they?” Fred implored after a moment. His genuine concern made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“No, they were perfect—all of it was perfect.” She sighed as she pulled away from him. Her general cognition was beginning to return, and with it her fears of all of the pain she had gone through in the past etched their way through.

Sure, Fred had clearly gotten jealous at the party. Then, he had gotten possessive and claimed her in the bedroom. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he harbored the same feelings for her that she had for him. The fear nearly paralyzed her, and she wasn’t sure if she should quickly redress and flee the room or implore what this all meant. Luckily, he answered her internal questioning before she even had to ask.

“I don’t want to see you out with Pucey.” Fred sighed, his eyes not meeting hers. “Which is a total prat thing to say, but it’s true. I don’t want to see you out with any bloke, really.”

“Fred…” Y/N spoke tentatively, her eyes begging him to speak further.

“I want you, Y/N. Like, really.” Fred finally met her gaze. “Not just in my bed.”

“What, do you want me on the couch too?” Y/N tried to joke, hoping it would cover up her nervous tone. But it didn’t. So, her voice became soft. “Don’t get my hopes up, Freddie.”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head. “I want to take you out on fancy dates, or watch movies with you on my couch. Bloody hell, I want to bring you to my parent’s house for Sunday dinners. I don’t know, I’m not good at this. Whatever it is that couples do.”

“Fred Weasley,” A small smile had begun to grow on Y/N’s face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Fred answered earnestly. “That is, only if you’re going to say yes. Otherwise, this was all just a joke—”

Y/N shut him up by pressing her lips to his, her mouth still curled upwards in a smile. It was impossible to hide the genuine happiness that his words brought her.

“Yes.” She answered softly as she pulled away.

A similar smile began to grow on Fred’s face as he completely registered her words, and he couldn’t help but dive back in for another kiss. Y/N was his, completely. Something he’d probably wanted for so long, but had simply been too daft to realize it. Now, as he held her in his arms, he promised himself he’d never make such a mistake again.

Tagging a few 18+ mutuals from my usual taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @theweasleysredhair

#fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #Fred Weasley fanfic

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teklarn · 3 years

Text

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽.4)

character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (x eijirou kirishima)

a/n: y’all it makes me so happy how many people like my work oh my gosh i’m so motivated when enthusiasm shows tytyty <33

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 !!

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention.

genre: angst

warnings: mutual pining, cussing, aged-up to third years, love triangle, romantic tension, one-sided pining, jealousy, toxic kirishima (ok but like he’s hot tho), slowburn romance, not proofread

word count: 2423

- - -

part 3 , part 5

you twiddled your thumbs in front of the poster. a halloween party? next month? it’d come as a surprise how fast the holiday was coming up.

your stomach filled with butterflies, however, it sunk when you remembered what had happened last night.

the little fight you had with kirishima. how it seemed like he suddenly hated bakugou, who was one of his best friends. you didn’t want to believe that kirishima could have had feelings for you. perhaps he was just protecting you.

you sighed. you truly didn’t want to fight with either of them. maybe kirishima was right. he did know bakugou better than you, but to your knowledge, bakugou had never had a relationship.

maybe kirishima was trying to say that bakugou would be toxic in the sense that he would never pay attention to you. perhaps he would be too focused on becoming the number one hero.

whatever. it didn’t matter now.

the poster listed that it was going to be a costume party, and dressing up was mandatory. you were good friends with mei hatsume from the support group, so she would be going all-out for the season. you wondered if she’d be able to whip something up for you, too.

you had a few minutes left before class started, surely she should be available for a little bit of chatter. besides, mei hatsume never turned down a new project.

turning, you started your way to the support classrooms just to be stopped, come face-to-face with the one person you’d been trying to avoid all day. “i don’t want to talk right now, kirishima,” you snapped. perhaps you were being a bit harsh, but he was the one trying to control you, was he not?

“then don’t talk, y/n. i’ll talk.”

you shoved past him, clutching your books to your chest. “no.”

“just hear me out, okay? last night was...i didn’t mean to seem-”

“seem what? possessive? rude? like an overprotective, jealous boyfriend?”

“in no way was i trying to come across as any of those, trust me y/n.”

you continued on your way to the support classes only to find him standing before you again. You sighed, tightening your grip around your books. “what.” you commanded him, you didn’t ask.

kirishima let out a sigh of his own, letting his arms fall to his sides. “can we just...talk? we’re friends, and we’ve always communicated well with each other.”

“communication was out of the question yesterday, wasn’t it?” you attempted shoving him away to continue on your way, but he caught your shoulder, finger pads digging into your skin possessively.

“please, y/n.”

you looked down your nose at him. “fine. say what you so badly want to get out.”

“listen, i-”

the bell rang, and students went rushing back into their classrooms. you shrugged, victorious. “looks like the bell isn’t on your side either, kirishima.”

you heard him sigh in defeat, but did not look back.

---

there was something about the way kirishima was suddenly looking at you that bakugou didn’t like. at all. his pencil snapped in his grip, chips of wood and led flying into the air.

speaking of kirishima, what was up with him lately? everything was suddenly about you. he was always around you. sure, throughout the years, you two had gotten closer, but kirishima looked just about ready to abandon bakugou’s ass on the side of the road.

as usual, aizawa would be a bit late. in about ten minutes, the man would come wandering in, bags hanging low under his eyes, and instruct the lesson before falling back into his much-needed slumber.

that was when bakugou would interrogate kirishima. but first, he needed to talk to you. needed to be sure he was on the winning side before anything happened between kirishima.

bakugou walked over to your desk, tugging at your sleeve to get your attention.

“hm?” you looked up from your notebook. “yes, bakugou? do you need something?”

“yeah,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “you saw the poster too, right? the one about that stupid dance.”

“well, i don’t think it’s stupid. it looks fun! don’t you think?”

he drowned himself in your eyes. “mhm.”

“so, did you still need something?”

“got any costume ideas in mind?”

you feigned surprise. “katsuki bakugou? are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

he licked his lips. gosh, the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded the way honey tasted. “don’t push it.” he grinned. “still considering it.”

“well, if you’re thinking of going, you definitely should. i’m buying tickets with mina and kaminari if you’d like to tag along.”

“tag along?” he let out a breathy chuckle. “i’ll be the star of the show if i ‘tag along’, you got me?”

you gave him a side smile. “mhm. but you do realize how hectic it’s gonna be there, right? i mean, you’ve got to pick something that...pops, y’know?” your fingers sprung out to add emphasis.

“whether i wear some stupid costume or not, i’m still going to be the star of the show. you got that?”

you knew he was only teasing. if it’d been the bakugou from before, he would have most likely meant it, however, you knew how he openly teased you now. strangely, it was only you who he was so open with.

bakugou smirked, leaning down to raise your chin with his fingers. “i’ll go if you go.”

he had your heart pacing rapidly. “mhm.”

“use your words.”

“yes, i think i’ll go.”

“you think?” he taunted.

“i will go.” you cleared your throat. “bakugou.”

“good.” his gentle fingers let go of your chin and he wandered back to his desk, eyeing you from there for a moment before flicking open a textbook and reading.

you diverted your eyes back to your notebook, hands shaking as you wrote down the date. you scribbled down your name three times in the top right corner just to look busy.

adjusting your elbow, you did your best to make it look like you were merely leaning your cheek on your hand in a bored manner. gosh. you could still feel his eyes burning into you, demanding. serious. gorgeous and blood red.

kirishima was right about you having feelings for bakugou. however you sat there conflicted for a little while.

bakugou had just approached you in a similar manner as kirishima. did kirishima..?

no, you two were only friends.

you shook your head, still doing your best to conceal the stupid grin crossing your cheeks.

everyone knew that telling other people if you were just friends with someone after they asked, one person had feelings for the other at least. it was another thing asking yourself that.

- - -

it was just a week before the dance, and you still had yet to choose a costume. mina and kaminari had offered you a few of the costumes she’d worn at previous halloween parties, but none had appealed to you.

you wanted something fresh. wanted something that you’d feel like you would have fun in.

“wouldn’t dressing up as a pirate be really, i don’t know. i just feel like it’d be super super hot in the gym.”

mina rolled her eyes. “well duh, you look hot in everything, y/n.”

you scoffed. “thanks, but i’m not sure about that.”

“kirishima seems to think so,” kaminari teased from inside the change room. all three of you were currently at a thrift store trying to find matching costumes.

you rolled your eyes, disregarding the fact he couldn’t see. “don’t bring him up. please.”

“what happened between you two?” mina asked, slipping the costume back onto its hanger. she slipped it back into its spot on the rack and began sifting through new clothes. “you guys just suddenly stopped talking.”

you shrugged. “he’s just been...off lately. you know? i don’t know how else to explain it. but ever since that incident where he broke bakugou’s nose-”

kaminari peaked out from the curtain, jaw dropping. “he broke bakugou’s nose?”

you waved him off. “yes, now let me finish. kirishima did this thing where he just...he acted all protective in private and then tried to apologize for it the next day. he kept telling me stuff like bakugou wasn’t good for me and everything.”

mina blinked, jaw dropping to the floor. “honey, what?”

she and kaminari exchanged shocked glances before she popped a hip out and put her fist to it.

“bestie, honey. you really are oblivious, aren’t you?”

you let out an exasperated breath. “he told me that, too! he pinned me to the wall and was like, oh, you’re so oblivious.” you imitated his voice, puffing out your chest to mock his stockiness.

“baby, baby! do you hear yourself?” mina shook you, taking you by your shoulders. “what the heck? are you blind? he’s down bad for you!”

“bad? if he had feelings for anyone, not just me, i think kirishima would be a little more considerate.”

“but it’s bakugou,” kaminari chirped in. “he knows he won’t win if he doesn’t get you now.”

“please, bakugou doesn’t win at everything.”

mina raised an eyebrow. “but you already have feelings for bakugou, so technically he’s already winning.”

you pursed your lips. “i guess, but if kirishima really had romantic feelings for me, he’d be less of an ass about it.”

“is he going to the dance?” kaminari closed the curtain, rustling around to change back into his clothes once more.

“i’m pretty sure.” you began sifting through clothes with mina. “bakugou said he’d go if i went. so i’m guessing kirishima is going to be there, too. bakugou and he are never apart.”

mina slapped her thigh in disbelief. “do you hear yourself, babes?” she wore a stupid grin. “i haven’t seen those two together since...i don’t know, not for the past month. they’re fighting over you, whether you realize it, whether they realize it.”

kaminari let out a false moan. “oh to have those two fighting over me.” he came out of the change room dressed in his own clothes.

“did the costume not fit?” mina asked.

“my fat ass is too fat for it. i’m too hot to be a pirate.” he posed, mimicking aoyama.

“your ass is flatter than a pancake, kaminari.”

you chuckled, but couldn’t help thinking about what mina was saying. as your two friends began chatting away, you lost yourself in your thoughts.

the three of you sat down for dinner at a cheap restaurant. mina and kaminari had bought a matching costume set, and you were still left without one. the two had left for the bathroom, leaving you sipping your own drink alone.

your chest sank into your stomach when a familiar head full of red, the roots beginning to darken, stepped into the restaurant. he ordered what you’d guessed.

he waited for the meal to be prepared for take out, rocking back and forth on his heels and whistling softly.

thankfully, you felt someone rest a hand on your shoulder. you turned, expecting to see kaminari or mina attempting to save you. instead, you found a strange man. he looked to be around your age. you vaguely recognized his face. perhaps you’d seen him around yuuei before.

uncomfortable, you shoved his hand off. “please go away.”

kirishima blinked slowly when his eyes found you. you did not attempt to hide your annoyance.

you wanted to tell both of them to go away as the man started flirting with you. it should be expected. this wasn’t the best place to be hanging out, either.

you heard footsteps rushing up, and soon, a hand clamped around your wrist. you cried out as kirishima pulled you out of your seat.

“do you have an issue?” he demanded, eyes boring into the man’s.

the man licked his lips. “you seem like you have an issue, here.” his words slurred grossly. “we were over here minding our own business.”

“they don’t want it.” kirishima snapped.

“kirishima, i can handle this myself. you tried to shove off his grip. he let go, knowing that this wasn’t truly how he wanted to approach you.

“see?” the man said. “they’re fine.”

“get out of here.”

“kirishima, what’re you-”

the man put his hands up in surrender and wandered out.

you pushed kirishima back. “what the hell?”

“fine. be mad at me, but he was invading your space.”

your brow furrowed. “you’re one to talk! do i need to put some kind of restraining order on you? you keep following me everywhere.”

“not anywhere! this was a coincidence.”

you shook your head. “it’s pointless trying to argue with you. you’re so toxic!”

kirishima tongued the inside of his cheek. “think what you want, y/n. i could see you were uncomfortable, anyway.”

“no, kirishima. i don’t need your saving. i don’t need you to swoop in and pretend like you’re my hero. you’re not. don’t talk to me again unless you’ve grown the hell up.”

as if on queue, the bell rang and kirishima’s packaged dinner was presented in a paper bag. he gave you a good, long hard stare before taking his dinner and leaving.

your chest heaved with anger. you wanted to make him angry. if he felt romantic feelings towards you, you wanted to make him jealous.

you gave mina and kaminari a text that you’d be going home early. it was only a half-lie. you ran to hatsume’s dorm and knocked loudly. she opened the door without hesitation and grinned widely at the sight of you, already knowing you needed something.

kirishima was obviously so damn jealous of bakugou, wasn’t he? mina was right. he wouldn’t be able to compete. and you were going to make sure he knew that.

the blaring lights, the music louder than bakugou’s explosions. students disguised as their favorite characters.

it was hectic, you were right about that.

kirishima stood beside him. they’d both decided to dress in their hero costumes. the tension between them was still unspoken. they felt like strangers.

their eyes scanned the crowd, and bakugou’s landed on you first, kirishima following closely after.

he couldn’t help the warm, victorious feeling in his chest as he glanced to the side at kirishima’s expression.

kirishima’s chest caved in. you’d dressed in...who had made it?

“they’re dressed as...you,” he said, aghast.

bakugou grinned, watching you dance under the lights in your own rendition of his hero costume, that orange x crossing your chest oh-so-nicely.

- - -

tags: (if you want to be tagged in future parts, let me know!!)

@heizenka @misssugarless

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

you’re someone i just want around: VIII

Like wolves we've run wild

Let passion get too much

And let ourselves get burned by the fire

We're walking on wire

But nothing feels higher

Then when I see that look in your eyes

Small Talk, Niall Horan

A/N: here she is!! another part!! you’re probably used to this now, but part 8 got a little long, and will continue in a part 9 but honestly!! who cares!! it just means more vampirerry for all of us 😌 here we deep dive into a few more dates with a dash of some good ole jealousy!! love to see it love to hear it!! and andrea and i would just like to say THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED IN THE 1D CRAFT AWARDS!!!! we cannot believe ysijwa was even nominated, let alone that it won most unique!!! as a thank you, we’re doing a livestream this sunday!! you can send in questions, we’ll discuss the story, and just have a lil chat so please tune in!! details can be found here!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep writing and updating!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

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

word count: 30k

content/warnings: confessions of an immortal shopaholic, blair waldorf dark au, the glamorization of the sugar baby lifestyle, harry not understanding the concept of sharing, y/n “eat the rich” y/l/n, harry the walking rosetta stone (tw: google translate), an italian chef (and psychic) who will also adopt someone before dessert is served, A Cinderella Story 6: Fifty Shades of Gucci Grey (rated R), an internal monologue of john mulaney’s “now we don’t have time to unpack all THAT!!!”, and a definitive guide on how to get rid of unnecessary parts of an outfit

Harry is aware that he has a taste for excess.

He wasn’t always like this, truly. When he was human, everything about his life had been thoroughly middle class. He was apprenticed to his father, the town’s blacksmith, and spent the majority of his life living in modesty. He wore plain clothes that had been sewn by his mother with the cheapest and most durable material she could find. He spent most of his days at the forge, or dutifully completing chores at home. He prayed quietly in church, took only the bare minimum of what he needed from anything, and, for the most part, kept his head down. He’d lived his life with no fancies, no frills, and no fun, in the hopes that all his humble modesty would serve him well in his next life.

And then he ended up eternally damned, so a fat lot of good that suffering had done him. All he got from following such a plain mode of life was intimacy issues, a newfound bloodlust, and a broken neck. Therefore, when it came to his afterlife, Harry decided to try a different route.

And that route, lucky for him, always seems to lead him back to Gucci.

Harry’s tried a lot of styles and a lot of designers in his two hundred and some years of life, but he’s yet to find anything that speaks to him like Gucci does. Whether it’s a leather wallet, a blue velvet suit, a sheer pussy bow shirt, or a silk neck scarf; if it has the Gucci label stamped on it, Harry probably owns it.

Whenever he steps foot in the store, sales associates flock to him, knowing that he’ll drop at least five thousand in one visit. Harry knows he should feel a tad guilty, but frankly, he thinks he’s earned it— more so than those billionaires he compels into making monthly donations to the “charity funds,” also known as his bank account.

His methods, however, do bring him a bit of flack from his friends. While Mitch normally does everything with Harry, the laid back and neutrally good-aligned vampire can only spend so much time in a high-end boutique before claiming that he’s “choking on the cologne of the entitled.” Niall, on the other hand, doesn’t let his teasing nature stop him from joining Harry, but Niall’s affinity for polyester usually stops Harry from allowing him inside the store. And Xander is a non-starter— the last time Harry tried to bring him, the vampire had spent the entire time cracking scathing jokes about Harry being a sugar baby, to which Harry responded with a comment about Xander being jealous of the salesman fitting Harry. That little argument turned into a three day battle of neither speaking to the other, and had only been settled when they each agreed that the other deserved to lose an eyebrow for what was said.

Harry could recount more instances of friction caused by his shopping habits, but needless to say, he either frequents the shopping district of Los Angeles by himself, or with Adam, who is wonderfully indifferent to Harry’s methods of obtaining pocket change, as well as how he spends said pocket change, and possesses the bonus trait of having an eye for beautifully tailored trousers.

It’s Adam who is by Harry’s side as he walks into the Gucci store for the third time in two weeks, his disinterested expression nearly eclipsed by the confident smirk that adorns Harry’s ruby lips.

It’s almost like they have a censor for him, Harry thinks smugly, as the associates begin to whisper to each other at the sight of him. Even if he didn’t absolutely love the brand, Harry would come to Gucci just for the boost to his ego.

Despite having accompanied Harry before, Adam still leans over to his friend, raising a quizzical brow as his eyes scan over the racks of clothing they pass. “Do we have to go to the counter, or—?”

“Oh, I never have to go to the counter.” Harry chuckles lightly, brushing his icy fingers over a smooth silk shirt styled on a mannequin. “They—”

“Mr. Styles!”

The egotistical simper on Harry’s lips grows, and he shoots Adam a smug look before turning around. “They come to me.”

“Mr. Styles, it’s so nice to see you again.” Mr. Koffman, the manager of this particular location, stops in front of Harry after a brisk walk over, fixing the fit of his suit jacket before extending his hand to Harry and Adam. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Harry shakes his hand once, enjoying the usual look of bemusement that flashes through the human man’s eyes at his strong grip and cool skin. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” He replies, shaking Adam’s hand once without moving his attention from Harry. “We’re thrilled to have you back so soon. I understand we have a suit in the works for you?”

Adam rolls his eyes the moment Mr. Koffman turns away from him, turning his attention to the rack of jackets to the left and running his fingers over the material.

“Yeah, I got the call this morning to come pick it up.” Harry pauses, giving Adam a sideways glance as his grin grows. “But I was wondering if I could do one last fitting, just to make sure everything’s set…?”

“Oh, uh—” Harry enjoys the frayed tone that echoes from the manager’s mouth as he begins to scramble, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’m so sorry, but we have another appointment coming in fifteen minutes, and—”

Harry sighs in mock disappointment, clicking his tongue as he gives a slight nod. “Ah. I see.” He sighs again and lifts his shoulders in a small shrug, glancing at Adam from the corner of his eye. The other vampire is watching him with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to bite back a laugh.

The light sheen of nervous sweat on Mr. Koffman’s brow begins to drip down his temple. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Styles—”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Harry waves off the apology with an unconcerned air, glancing at his own statement watch and sighing again. “If you could just have my suit sent down to the Gucci location on Rodeo, I’d really appreciate it— I know they’ll be able to squeeze me in for a last minute fitting.” Harry smiles at Koffman, whose face fades a shade paler as the creature gestures to his friend. “C’mon, Adam.”

“No, no, there won’t be any need for that!” Mr. Koffman says quickly, checking his watch again as his hand reaches for the handkerchief in his suit pocket. He dabs at his moist forehead while forcing a smile at Harry, who gives an easygoing smile back.

“It’s alright, Mr. Koffman, really— if you’re unable to make some room for me, I’m sure they’ll be happy to—”

“You’ve been a wonderful and loyal customer to us, Mr. Styles— we’d be more than happy to make room for you.” The human smiles again, the action more strained than before as he tucks his handkerchief away and clasps his hands in front of him. “Just— Just give me one moment to arrange it with alterations, and move some things around. Please, feel free to browse,” He gestures to the racks of clothing around them. “And I’ll be back in a few minutes once we have everything ready for you.”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, faking hesitation as he replies in a slow voice. “Well...if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble…”

“No trouble at all. Not for you.” Koffman, to his credit, manages to make the response sound natural before scurrying away, already dialing a number on his phone as he speed-climbs the staircase leading to the alterations department.

The laugh Harry’s been choking on for the last three minutes escapes the moment the human disappears, echoing off the marble walls around them as Harry turns to Adam with a glint in his eye.

Adam, on the other hand, looks less entertained and more annoyed. “Was that really necessary?” He asks in a bored tone, crossing his arms as his eyebrows raise in question. “Why do you need to try the suit on? You had, like, three fittings. It’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I want to make sure it’s perfect before I take it home— I’m spending way too much money for it to possibly be defective. And I want you to see it in all the glory of the mirrored Gucci fitting room.” Harry pats his friend’s shoulder as he steps past him, his attention captured by a pair of red leather and snakeskin boots sitting on a pedestal in the corner.

Adam snorts once, short and harsh. “Were those the only reasons, Mr. Styles?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Harry drags a finger over the embroidered side of the boots, his cherry lips rising at the corners. “I do enjoy making Koffman squirm. He’s so easily bothered by the littlest of things; it’s like an open invitation to cause some trouble.”

“Y’know, if I didn’t know what you really were,” Adam laughs once in spite of himself, shaking his head in disbelief while checking out a pair of plaid trousers. “I’d think you were the devil.”

Harry’s smile twists into something more sinister as he fiddles with his gold cross, twisting the pendant under the overhead lighting so it glints symbolically in Adam’s eye. “It’s a good thing I’m not, hm? I’d be unstoppable.”

“We’d all be doomed, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, absolutely. But world-domination aside, everyone knows the devil wears Prada, not Gucci. Get it together, Prendergast.”

The clicking of dress shoes against the marble steps alert Harry to Koffman’s return before his sputtering heartbeat does, and the vampire turns his head just in time to see him descend down the spiral staircase.

“Good news, Mr. Styles!” He beams at Harry as he steps off the last platform, nearly tripping over his feet in his effort to get to his client. “I was able to talk to the girls, rearrange some appointments, and we’ll be able to do a final fitting for you.”

“That’s wonderful t’hear, Mr. Koffman.” Harry tucks his cross back beneath his shirt with a pleased grin, catching Adam’s eye over the mortal’s shoulder. “I wasn’t fancying the drive to Rodeo.”

“I wouldn’t either, sir.” Koffman nods solemnly, gesturing to the stairs with a stubby hand. “But we’re always glad to make accommodations for you here.”

And isn’t that the truth, Harry thinks as he makes his way upstairs, Adam hot on his heels as Koffman leads the two of them to the alterations department. Part of the reason why Gucci— and this location, if Harry’s honest— holds such a place in his unbeating heart is because it reminds him of an era long gone. When Harry steps through the gold archways of the store, he instantly transforms into a person worth noting, and is waited on as if he were a lord in Victorian England who was set to inherit twenty thousand pounds. Now, of course, Harry could drop the equivalent of twenty thousand pounds in one shopping trip, but it was a large sum of money back then, when Harry could only dream of such wealth.

Now, the immortal’s reality involves him being waited on the moment he enters the alteration department, with one attendant handing him a glass of champagne as another shows him a display of accessories to match his custom suit, which hangs proudly inside a garment bag on the wall. Adam, for all his eyerolls, still accepts the complimentary champagne and appraises the accessories right along with Harry, who gets a chance to roll his own eyes as an attendant named Mara convinces him to try on a platinum watch.

“Would you like to try one as well, Mr. Styles?” The other attendant, Blair— Harry’s favourite consultant at the store, truth be told— bats her eyes at him as she taps a finger over the Rolex already adorning Harry’s wrist. “Could be nice to switch it up, no?”

Harry offers a polite smile as he readjusts the band of the watch on his arm, tutting in reply. “I’m afraid I’m rather attached to the Rolex brand for my watches, Blair.” He sighs before nodding his head at Adam, who’s become enamoured with the platinum band on his wrist. “Best to focus your energy on that one, I think. He’ll make you some easy commission.”

“It’s not about commission, Mr. Styles, it’s about finding you something you’ll love.” Blair pouts as she leads him behind the dressing room curtain, her lithe fingers unzipping the garment bag covering his suit with one swift motion. “I thought you’d know me well enough by now to know you’re much more than commission to me.”

The smile on Harry’s face only falters for one second, the flicker going unnoticed by the employee as she carefully removes the suit from the bag. The last time Harry had been here for a fitting, she hadn’t been working— he remembers because the new attendant they’d sent to deal with him had nearly zipped his suit into the garment bag when the fitting was over. It had been Blair, however, who had originally measured him for the suit, and Harry remembers her wandering fingers that paused at his inseam a moment longer than needed, how she had showered Harry with praise as he modeled the sample suit. It had done him good then as he strutted around the alterations department, flexing underneath the chandelier light as she’d complimented his every pose, but that had been nearly two months ago. Moreover, it had been two brunches, four dinners, three walks, and an antiquing trip ago. A lifetime ago, really.

“That’s very kind of you, Blair.” Harry finally manages to respond, his fingers pausing at the buttons of his shirt as she hangs the separate parts of the suit on their own hangers. “I’d trust no one else with a suit this expensive, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” A light giggle escapes the girl as she hangs the jacket on the wall, stepping back and admiring the pieces with a keen eye. “I’m glad you decided to go with the light grey fabric; it’ll compliment your eyes so nicely.” When she turns back around, Harry doesn’t miss how the same keen eye skirts over the half unbuttoned fabric covering his torso. “I’ll give you a moment to slip everything on. If you need anything…” The girl tugs the curtain back just enough to let herself out, her pink lips tugging into a simper. “Just call for me.”

Harry’s smile grows tighter as the curtain closes behind her, and disappears the moment he’s out of her sight. He’d forgotten, really, the effect he has on most mortals. It had been something he’d paid close attention to before, delighting in how they all unknowingly stroked his ego as their jaws dropped whenever he’d walked by. In a way, it’s nice to know that he’s still capable of that— he’s still a narcissist, after all— but it’s a little less satisfying when he’s grown so used to that careful attention from Y/N. When it comes to stroking, he thinks shrewdly, a smirk slowly crawling onto his face as he strips out of the rest of his clothes, there’s no one better than her.

Once he’s stripped completely, he dresses in the custom suit, pulling the crisp fabric along his muscled limbs and tugging it into place. He starts with the silk black shirt, slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoning the two sides together, excluding the top three holes. After that, he steps into the grey trousers, tucking the shirt in and taking a moment to admire the black stripe that runs down the inseam of the pants, which— to Blair’s credit— hug his thighs perfectly. Once he’s satisfied with the lay of the article, he slips the suit jacket overtop, adjusting the sleeves over the dress shirt as he fiddles with the cuffs.

“Now, don’t worry about the cufflinks with the suit, Mr. Styles,” Blair calls through the curtain, her voice grating across Harry’s admiration with an irritating cadence as she seems to predict his need. “They’re just some samples given by the store. I’ve personally selected some more appropriate pairs that match your style much better.”

When Harry tugs back the curtain, Adam has shifted himself to the plush velvet couch in the middle of the room, his champagne glass already refilled as he slouches back against the cushions. Mara, it seems, has disappeared from the fitting room, but Blair is standing just to the side, next to a table lined with gold accessories for Harry to try.

“Well?” Harry asks, stepping to the platform that sits in front of the mirrored wall, his jeweled hands tugging at the starched lapel of the jacket. He regards himself in the mirror for a moment, admiring the fit across his sturdy shoulders, before rotating around to face the vampire and mortal. “What do you think, Adam?”

Adam takes a long sip of his champagne, mulling over his reply for so long that it sparks irritation in Harry’s stomach, which is only soothed by his long awaited comment. “It looks good.” He nods, squinting his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “A little plain, compared to what you normally wear, but it’s nice.”

“I don’t know if it’s proper to call this plain.” Blair scoffs, looping the tape measure in her hands around her neck as she approaches Harry, her heels clicking against the lacquered floor. “Mr. Styles usually has a preference for something more patterned, true, but there’s something to be said for a sleek, simple suit.” Harry watches the way her eyes flicker down his body, pausing at his inseam with a look that’s less than professional. “And that black stripe along the inside of the pant certainly...draws the eye, does it not?”

Although her words are laced with implications, Harry directs a smirk at Adam as he rakes a hand through his curled locks. “It’s alright, Blair. Adam’s right, it is a little plain compared to what I normally wear, but every man needs a nicely tailored formal suit in his closet.”

“Exactly.” Blair nods in earnest response as she begins to circle Harry, her detail oriented eyes sweeping over every aspect of the suit. In the reflection of the mirror, Harry catches the way her eyes settle over the fit of his backside, her heartbeat increasing for just a moment until Harry clears his throat.

“The cufflinks, love?” Harry prompts, raising his arms as he begins to fiddle with the cuffs. “These sample ones are horrid. You said something about gold…?”

The attendant snaps from her objectifying stupor, her eyes meeting Harry’s in the mirror as a light blush settles over her cheeks. “Yes, I, um, picked some out for you here.” Her heels click again as she retrieves the velvet lined tray that’s studded with jewelry, bringing it to Harry for him to examine. “We have a few variations of the Gucci logo— interlocking G’s, some embossed onto gold coins— but I think this pair we just got in might be to your liking.”

Harry reaches for the cufflinks Blair points to, pinching one between his fingers and lifting it close to his eye to examine it. It’s a pair of interlocking G’s, but instead of a smooth finish similar to the other pairs before him, these have textured engravings all around the letters. It takes Harry a moment to realize that the engravings are scales, and the G’s are actually—

“They’re engraved to look like snakes, with black Swarovski crystal eyes.” Blair begins her infomercial-like spiel, holding up the other cufflink for her own examination. “They’re 18K gold with an aged finish, and the attention to detail is just extraordinary. Even the back is engraved with an Arabesque motif.” She twists the cufflink around in her fingers as Harry does the same, examining the engraving with an approving nod.

“They’re lovely.” Harry murmurs, wrapping his fist around the cufflink to secure it before removing the sample cufflink from his own sleeve. With one swift motion, he’s swapped one piece of gold hardware for another, fiddling with the fit of the sleeve as he sets the new cufflink amongst the fabric. “S’a nice fit, I think.”

“It’s a wonderful fit.” Before he can reach for the other cufflink, Blair snags his sleeve in her grasp, replacing the sample in a motion nearly as swift as Harry’s. “Beautiful, really. It’s such an understated suit, which works to its advantage, but the pop of gold on the cuffs will really make everything stand out so much more.”

Harry nods seriously, a pensive look on his face as he examines the sleeves once more before raising his arms. “What d’you think, Adam? Look alright?”

Adam offers a passive nod as he becomes distracted by the rack of watches again, his fingers draping over another platinum band. “Looks good, man. But you know that.”

“I know.” Harry flashes a blinding smile at his friend, dropping one emerald eye into a wink as he fiddles with the cufflinks. “But I like hearing you say it.”

“It really is a perfect fit, Mr. Styles.” Blair nearly coos the words as she circles him again, her careful fingers tugging and adjusting the lines of the suit just enough that it can be considered appropriate for her job. “Gorgeous. The best we’ve done, I think.” Her fingers dance over his lapel as she adjusts the fall of his open neckline, and a flash of warning ignites in Harry’s stomach as her skin grazes the ink of Harry’s chest. “But the suit is only doing half the work, you know. The rest is all—” Her touch travels up the lapel and across his shoulder, her body taking a step behind his own as her touch settles on the nape of his neck. “You.”

Although her skin barely brushes the back of his neck, the pin-prick touch bursts into a shudder that paralyzes Harry’s entire body, tensing his every limb. When it releases, his frame spasms one single time in reflex, yanking itself away from the human’s touch.

The shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by Blair or Adam, although each has their own response based on what they know of Harry. As his jade eyes harden to stone, Harry catches the cautious movements of Adam, who is slowly pulling himself into a tense and careful posture in the corner of Harry’s eye. Blair, on the other hand, is merely frozen with her hand still hanging in midair, a confused and bewildered expression painted onto her features.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Styles?” She questions, her self-preservation betraying her as she takes another step forward with her outstretched fingers once again reaching for Harry’s shoulder. “Is something in the suit bothering you?”

Harry gives a rough shake of his head as he leans back from her touch once again, forcing himself to take a deep breath through his nose to collect himself. When he speaks, his voice is low, raspy, and filled with a quiet fury that exceeds the intensity that would accompany a scream. “I think I’ve mentioned before,” He enunciates each word clearly, his delivery cold in every aspect. “I prefer not to be touched there.”

Despite the tense undercurrent of Harry’s voice, Blair’s expression relaxes once she realizes the cause of it. “My apologies. I was just trying to adjust the fit.” When she places her hand on Harry’s elbow and tugs at the sleeve, her brow creases at the taut joint, but her voice remains as smooth and slick as ever. “I’ll make sure to keep my hands to myself— or at least, wait for your direction on where to put them.”

The smile that curves over her lips begins to fall as Harry’s face stays as stony as ever, his own mouth dragged down into a frown as the implications of her words settle around him. Part of him wants to snap right there, to give into the instinct to bare his teeth, swell his chest, and show this emboldened employee what she’s really touching, but Adam’s eyes over her shoulder urge him not to.

His friend knows how sensitive Harry can get when his guard is at full throttle, especially when that issue stems from anything vaguely related to that particularly haunted place the young woman had carelessly touched. Watch it, Adam’s gaze seems to say as he shakes his head just enough for Harry to notice. It was an accident. You’re fine.

Harry inhales deeply once again, grounding himself in his human persona with each rise and fall of his chest. “That would be wise, I think.” He finally responds, straightening his back and turning to face himself in the mirror once again. “Just be a bit more careful.”

It seems that Blair has finally gotten the hint, because every touch of her fingers over him for the rest of the fitting is calculated and precise. Her hands do drift a little further on his body than what’s necessary, but she makes sure she doesn’t graze against his icy bare skin again. What Harry finds most curious, however, is that every swipe of her fingers against the fabric grates on what seems to be his last nerve.

They’ve played this cat and mouse game before, always teasing, always touching, and just barely staying out of reach. But it seems Harry has gotten too lax in his ways, he thinks, as his cold eyes watch the movements of the girl in the mirror, because she’s never been this blatant before, especially in front of another customer. Does she actually think something could happen between the two of them? Does she really believe that Harry would drag her behind the curtained partition, meticulously remove the suit he’s just paid thousands for, and trace his own fingers over her supple flesh as if he’s fitting her for himself?

The thought nearly pulls a ridiculing laugh from Harry’s chest, but that laugh is replaced with a pondering thought that irks Harry the moment it flickers into his mind. He could do that, yes. He’s certainly done worse, and Blair can probably sense that. If Harry were in her position, of being the mouse that believes it’s the cat, he would probably think that something was going to come out of all their chasing eventually. And why hasn’t it?

The answer, of course, comes to Harry a moment after the question does. Even though Blair is, by society’s standards, objectively attractive, and obviously willing to follow any direction he gives her, Harry is smart enough to not draw attention to himself by hooking up and feeding from a consultant that works at his favourite store. It had been Niall, he thinks, who summed up a simple yet effective rule wonderfully for him once: Don’t shit where you eat. Plain and simple.

But there’s a second answer that grinds at the back of Harry’s mind, festering inside every thought as Blair makes final adjustments, blathers on about accessories and additions, and tries to raise her commission by once again showing Harry watches. Harry doesn’t want Blair, because Harry has Y/N. Being touched by Blair feels wrong because Harry’s so used to being touched by Y/N. And Blair grazing over his neck bothered him so much because he can, apparently, only stand someone’s fingers grazing there if Y/N is the one doing it.

And perhaps festering isn’t the right word, Harry muses, because the warmth that’s spreading through him with that realization feels a lot more like blossoming than anything else. It flowers within him, lavender weaving through every limb, letting him know that maybe— just maybe— he’s not as selfish as he thinks. He could be a complete monster, and fabricate a relationship for Y/N while still pursuing other people, but he has, at the very least, one shred of decency hidden within him. Although he indulges his base desires whenever he’s with her, he at least has the power to resist one of them.

With that in mind, Harry finds it easier to pay less mind to Blair’s lingering touches and sly compliments, and instead focuses on cherry-picking the suggestions he wants to take from her.

“Y’think I should change the shoes, then?” Harry steps down from the platform, drifting closer to the full length mirrors to examine the black leather loafers adorning his feet. “Something more colourful?”

“Not necessarily colourful, no— after all, we’ve worked hard to create a cohesive look. We wouldn’t want to interrupt that with a sudden burst of fuschia.” Blair laughs once, brushing her hair behind her ears as she hums in consideration. “But something with a bit of gold, maybe? To match the cufflinks? We could add some gold hardware to those loafers, or just find a new pair for you…”

“New is always better.” Adam chimes in from the couch, tilting his half full glass to Harry with a wry smile. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Styles?”

Harry points a ringed finger at him, winking once in confirmation. “Right you are, Mr. Prendergast.” He begins scanning the room, his eyes catching every pair of shoes displayed and comparing them in his mind. “Do you have some selections we could look at, Blair?”

“If you give me a few moments, I could certainly run to the back and pull some—”

As Harry’s keen eyes settle onto a pair of boots on display in the corner of the room, he raises a hand, cutting the girl off in one swift motion. “That may not be necessary.” He murmurs, walking over to the pedestal and examining the newest object of his fascination.

The boots are made of matte leather with polished snakeskin over the toes of the shoes, both fabrics shining the darkest black Harry has ever seen. The leg of the boot is relatively short, and would probably only come to Harry’s ankle, with a black heel that would add an inch or two to Harry’s already tall frame. But the pièce de résistance that draws Harry’s eye the moment he sees them are the embroidered gold dragons that adorn the outer sides of each boot, their bodies coiled in such a way that Harry almost swears he can see them breathing.

He slides one finger around the toe of the boot, nearly shivering in how pleasurable the silky surface feels against his skin. “How much?” He mumbles the phrase with a reverent look in his eyes, his voice as delicate as his touch.

Blair’s smile twists into one of apology as words Harry has never heard from her before fall from her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, but those are actually a custom order for another client. They’re not for sale.”

Harry hums low in his throat, his fingertips dancing over the gold embroidery. “I’ll add another thousand onto whatever they’re paying.” He says, earning a breath of hesitation from Blair and a sigh of exhaustion from Adam.

“Christ, Harry,” The latter groans, rubbing his eyes in a frustrated manner at Harry’s familiar antics. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at sharing? Did you skip that part of kindergarten?”

“Kindergarten wasn’t really a thing where I grew up.” Harry reminds his friend, shrugging indifferently before turning his attention back to the torn consultant. “So? Another thousand? I think that adds on quite a nice percentage of commission for you, doesn’t it?”

“I— Mr. Styles, I’m not really sure if—” Blair stutters over her words as she quickly strides over to him, the clicking of her heels against the marble floor punctuating each pound of her heart in her chest. “I don’t really think we can do that.”

A short laugh echoes from Harry’s ruby lips as a grin dimples his cheeks, the humour of her words apparent only to him. “You know I don’t take no for an answer, Blair.” He raises his eyes to hers and locks their gazes, lowering his voice to a smooth and convincing octave, pupils dilating as supernatural magic flows into his irises. When her own eyes respond the same, her face falling slack for just a moment, Harry knows he’s alright to continue. “You didn’t answer my question. How much?”

“Just under four thousand.” The consultant replies immediately as the compulsion settles into her brain. “They would be around five if you wanted to add on the thousand you mentioned before.”

The smile on his face twists into something more conceited, and Harry steps back from the boots with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll take them, then.” Confidence weaves itself through his voice as he meticulously removes the suit jacket from his body. “Call Mara to wrap them up, won’t you? While I’m changing, I’ll need you to start pulling some more selections for me.”

Blair blinks the compulsion from her eyes as Harry’s stare dips from hers, her tone thick with confusion as she sleepily takes the jacket from Harry’s hands. “More selections, Mr. Styles? Of what?”

“Yeah, Harry.” Adam’s words are tinged with trepidation as he subtly checks the time on the watch now hanging off his wrist. “Of what?”

“Cocktail dresses, I think. Although I’m not opposed to a cute little romper, as long as it has a bit of sparkle and shows off some leg.” Harry says thoughtfully, rubbing over his pillowy lips as he ponders the thought. “But I think a cocktail dress would work best. Black, maybe. To keep it classy, but not too classy.” He says, shooting a wicked grin at Blair. “I’d like to see a bit of skin.”

“I’m— I’m sorry,” The befuddlement in the human girl’s voice finally begins to clear up, leaving curiosity-tinged jealousy in its place. “What sort of event is this outfit for?”

Harry’s loafers echo around the marble room as he makes his way back to the changing area, a plan already forming in his head as he speaks. “A dinner. Semi-formal, so no floor length gowns or anything like that. Maybe bring some matching heels as well, although...” Harry pauses with the changing curtain clutched tight in his hand. “I think a quick trip to Christian Louboutin down the street may yield better results in that department.”

“Quick trip,” Adam quotes scornfully, downing the rest of his champagne and setting the glass down on the gold side table with a groan. “That’s what this was supposed to be, H, and we’ve been here for an hour! We were supposed to pick up your suit, and then head back to Niall’s for the barbecue—”

“So text Niall and tell him we’re running behind; he certainly has no problem doing that to us.” A snort sounds deep in Harry’s throat as Blair walks to the ornate desk in the back of the room and picks up the gold-plated rotary phone, dialing a short number with practiced speed. “And, with the amount of times he’s complained to me about my lack of punctuality, he should be used to it by now.”

The other vampire rolls his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a groan. “Fine.” He relents, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “But you’re buying me this watch as payment.”

“Fine.” Harry shrugs as he echoes the word, his voice casual and without a care as he slips behind the curtain and finishes undressing.

Once he’s hung the suit back up on its hangers and redressed in his normal clothing, he retracts the plush curtain once more to find an annoyed Adam hanging up the phone, his newly purchased boots gone from the pedestal, and the heavy gold accessories that had been picked out for Harry being swapped for finer and daintier pieces.

Harry begins to examine the gold chains, humming in thought over the delicate pendants that swing from them. “How’d Niall take it?” He tosses the question to Adam over his shoulder, not particularly concerned about the answer.

“He told me to call you a wanker and rip off your ear, so,” Adam tucks his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head at the Irishman’s harsh words. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Another hum vibrates through Harry’s throat as he sets a mental note to make amends with his friend at a later date. “So do you want to rip off my right ear, or my left? I have to admit, my left is my prettier ear, so I’d be appreciative if you left that one alone.”

The laugh that leaves Adam is so genuine that Harry knows he can’t be too annoyed at him. When his friend joins him in overlooking the jewelry, Harry offers him an airy smile in return, pointing out a detail in one of the pendants to Adam’s interested gaze.

“Explain something to me.” Adam starts after a moment, his own hands grazing over a diamond bracelet. “Why go to all this trouble? A dress, shoes, accessories… what’s the point?”

If it were any of his other friends asking the question, Harry would take a defensive response, spouting off a justified reply about how he looks so good in the suit that it needs to be seen, and that he can’t wear it and have Y/N not match him in clothing that’s sufficiently up to par. But Adam’s eyes, albeit frustrated at times, have always been kind, and contain a depth of clarity that Harry can’t resist. He’s always been the most level-headed of the group, second only to Mitch, so the monster always feels safe trusting him with his innermost thoughts.

“S’nice, I suppose.” Harry replies with as casual a tone as he can allow, lifting his shoulder as the sound of a rolling cart heavy with clothing pricks his ears from down the hall. “I’m taking something from Y/N, so… it makes me feel nice to give her something in return, y’know? Makes me feel a little less guilty, at least, if she’s having a good time.”

Although Adam’s eyebrows raise at the mention of guilt, he makes no other comment on the surprisingly candid confession from his friend. “I get that.” He says slowly, settling down the gold necklace in his hand with a gentle touch. “I’m surprised you get it, but I get it.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry huffs as Blair rounds the corner and enters the room with a rack laden with black garment bags. “Don’t tell Niall I said that, alright? He’ll never let me hear the end of it, and if he thinks I’m going soft— which I’m not—” Harry tacks on quickly. “He’ll start trying to fuck with me, and then I’ll have to rip off his ear, and it’ll be a whole thing.”

“My lips are sealed, man.” Adam laughs, gesturing over his shoulder to the clothing cart. “Shall we pick a dress for the lucky lady, then?”

A smirk paints its way onto Harry’s face. “Mhmm. As long as you’re the one modeling it.”

///

A package arrives the next afternoon.

Like any Saturday when she isn’t working or with Harry, Y/N is home alone, trying to unwind from the previous week’s trials and tribulations. Although she’s worked customer service jobs at home, working a customer service job in Los Angeles is a whole other demon, and she finds herself more exhausted than she’s ever been more often than she’s not. It’s probably a good thing, she muses to herself over a cup of tea and her new copy of Sense and Sensibility, that she doesn’t have many friends in L.A., because she wouldn’t have the energy to go out with them anyways. And honestly, she prefers it that way. She’s learned to get along with her coworkers enough at her job that she doesn’t feel isolated, and sees Harry enough outside of work that she feels she has a shred of something resembling a social life. Her quiet afternoons at home by herself are really a godsend, in a way. They give her an opportunity to recharge to be present enough for social interactions during the week. Being lonely can be a challenge, yes, but being alone is an entirely different thing, and it’s something that Y/N quite enjoys.

Which is why she’s so confused when her doorbell rings at 2:13 P.M. on a Saturday afternoon.

The moment the sound pricks her ears, Y/N pauses her reading, setting her book down on her lap as she sends a confused look towards the front door. Her eyes slide to her phone next to her, tapping the screen to make sure she hasn’t missed any messages from anyone. Harry, surely, would at least text her before showing up unplanned, wouldn’t he?

When her phone screen is found to be predictably blank, and the doorbell rings again, Y/N stumbles her way from her couch to the front door, her chain clanging against the frame as she unlocks it and pulls the door open.

A man she doesn’t know raises an eyebrow at her as she looks up at him, and a spark of fear flickers in her stomach before she realizes he’s wearing a UPS uniform and holding a large brown package in his hands.

“Are you Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” He asks, glancing down at the tablet in his hands.

“Uh— yeah. Yes, I am.” Y/N replies slowly, tugging the patchwork cardigan she’d stolen from Harry around her frame. “Hi?”

The UPS delivery man gives her a quizzical look. “Hi.” He repeats back to her in a monotone voice, extending the tablet in his hand. “Sign here, please.”

The urge to argue that she wasn’t expecting anything bubbles up in Y/N’s throat, but she tamps it down as she accepts the tablet, using the pen attached to the device to sign her name. It’s probably from her mother, she thinks, scrawling her signature quickly before handing the tablet back. Even though L.A. is famously a city without seasons, her mother has probably knit her two new blankets for the winter months, or sweaters, or some other woolen article of clothing that Y/N will have no use for.

The UPS delivery man swaps the tablet in her hand for the package in his, barely sparing Y/N another glance before retreating back down her hallway.

“Um, thank you!” Y/N calls after him, shifting the surprisingly heavy package in her palms as she nudges the door shut with her socked foot.

She carries the box to her living room, setting it down on her coffee table before pausing for a moment to double back and relock her front door (although she’s adjusted to living alone, the fear that’s been implanted in her from a young age about living in a big city still has a hold on her).

The box, she discovers upon further examination, has no return address, but it does sound like there’s multiple items inside when shaken. And then Y/N remembers that she’s an adult, and should probably not be shaking a box when she doesn’t know what sits inside, so she sits back on her couch with a confused pout— until she once again remembers that she’s an adult, and can open a package addressed to herself.

It takes a moment of struggling to tear off the thick tape lining the seam of the box— a moment which would probably have been shorter if Y/N had retrieved a knife from the kitchen, truth be told— but the opening of the package makes the contents no more clear. When she pulls back the top of the box, she finds sheets of packing tissue paper, which she tosses onto her living room floor without care to reveal the surprises inside.

And what a surprise the black and white box with Gucci stamped on top is. Nearly as much a surprise as the second larger black and white Gucci box underneath, or the red and black box next to it labeled Christian Louboutin.

Y/N’s not quite sure how long she sits there staring at the packages in shock, but when she finally manages to unfreeze her limbs to take a sip of her tea, the liquid is considerably colder than it had been when she set it down to open the door. The packages are so unexpected that it takes her a moment to realize that designer boxes typically contain designer items inside them, and maybe unpacking those will bring her greater insight into what the fuck is happening right now.

Of course, that’s not the case.

Beginning with the smaller Gucci box, Y/N carefully extracts it from the brown container and sets it on her lap, untying the black ribbon encircling it as if she were dismantling a bomb. When she lifts off the lid to find a matte black leather clutch purse with a gold Gucci emblem as the clasp, she almost thinks that a bomb would be preferable, because surely, there’s been a mistake. Y/N certainly hasn’t purchased a Gucci clutch for herself, so it’s entirely likely that this was a gift for someone else, and the UPS man had just gotten the address wrong. Yes, she thinks to herself, ghosting her fingers over the supple leather in shock, that must be it. It’s a mistake. And because it’s a mistake, she should back this all up and call UPS to have them fix it.

And then she remembers the UPS man had said her name, and that’s enough motivation to open the Christian Louboutin box next.

Based on the brand, Y/N suspected that the box would reveal a pair of shoes. It’s still a shock, however, when she finds a pair of black satin heels that shine even in the low light of her apartment, with a satin ribbon death trap of an ankle tie, and signature red lacquered bottoms.

By the time Y/N reaches the third box, she’s moving on autopilot, her fingers robotically untying the black ribbon and lifting the lid without her instructing herself to do so. The only words she can manage upon seeing the black cocktail dress is a gentle but emotive “What the fuck?”

The dress, she finds as she cautiously lifts it from the box, is made of satin, and is nothing she would ever purchase for herself in a million years. The neckline dips into a low V, supported by off the shoulder cuffs, and Y/N can already tell by the cut of the fabric that if she were to slip it onto her body, the knee length dress would cling to her form. And— Y/N shifts the dress into the light as her eyes widen in shock— as if that weren’t enough, there’s a leg slit that runs so high that Y/N flushes at the mere thought of her thigh peaking through.

It’s that detail, coupled with the suspicion that a single item of the package— let alone all three together— costs more than her rent that leads Y/N to the realization that only one person she knows could have sent all of this.

Folding the dress carefully back in the box and setting it to the side, Y/N fumbles to retrieve her phone from where she had left it earlier. After unlocking it, she flips to her contacts and clicks on the familiar name, raising the device to her ear with a slow motion.

The phone rings four times before Harry’s voicemail crackles through the speaker. “Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I can’t talk right now, but if you leave a message at the beep, I’ll try to get back to you.” There’s a moment of hesitation in the recording, and Y/N almost thinks she’s missed the beep before Harry’s accented voice returns. “Unless you’re Niall.”

The expected beep finally sounds, and Y/N swallows hard as she tries to find the words she needs. “Hey, Harry, it’s, um, it’s Y/N. I just received your package— I mean, I think it’s from you, because I don’t know who else would send me a Gucci dress— which I can’t accept, by the way. That’s why I’m calling. So, um,” She sucks in a harsh breath to give pause to her rambling before continuing. “Just— just call me back, alright? Thanks.”

While Harry is usually attentive to every call and message from Y/N, her voicemail receives no reply, nor does her second phone call, or her third, or the four texts she sends to Harry in between. By five P.M., she’s given up on hearing back from Harry at all, and is nearly resolved to pack up the box again and march it to Harry’s apartment when his signature sharp rap echoes on her front door.

Despite her frustration at receiving no reply from him, there’s an air of relief running through Y/N as she tightens the cardigan around herself and strides to her front door. She unlocks it quickly, her greeting already falling from her lips before the door is even open.

“You better have a good reason for ignoring me all afternoon, Harry, because I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why—”

And then Y/N’s frantic eyes finally settle on the man before her, and the rest of her beration dies before it can leave her throat.

Harry is leaning casually against her frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest, as usual, and he’s dressed in a grey suit that clings to his body in a way that is so attractive, Y/N didn’t even think it was possible for a man to look this utterly flawless. The suit fabric looks soft to the touch, more luxurious than anything Y/N could ever dream of, and the black silk shirt that lies underneath looks even softer. The human tries to not let herself focus on the way the shirt is slightly unbuttoned, showing off the inked swallows that decorate Harry’s muscled chest, as well as his usual cross necklace. However, letting her eyes drift lower proves to be a mistake, as her gaze is immediately drawn to the black stripe that runs down the inseam of Harry’s pant legs, highlighting the muscles of his thighs in a way that makes her mouth water. Even his shoes, black leather boots embroidered with gold dragons, are attractive in a way that Y/N doesn’t understand.

“Hello, darling.” Harry’s charming voice and dimpled smile pull the girl’s eyes back to his face just in time to see his lips drop into a discouraged frown.

Although Harry is usually greatly fond of seeing Y/N clad in cozy clothes with her hair in a messy ponytail (especially when his own cardigan is part of the ensemble), the look isn’t necessarily welcome at the moment. Yes, she looks adorable in her pastel blue pajama pants with cartoon sheep scattered all over the fabric. And yes, she looks incredibly cute swaddled in an oversized The Nightmare Before Christmas tee along with his patchwork coat. However, given the premise of the plans he’s drawn for tonight, her outfit is far from appropriate. Especially because he’d expected her to be wearing the dress he’d bought her along with the heels and clutch, dishing out a sexy but classy aesthetic rather than the ever-present lonely couch potato one.

He gives her entire body a quick, judgmental sweep, brows cinching. “I— why aren’t you ready?”

The confusion bubbling in Y/N’s mind molds into indignation at his words, albeit a hint of bewilderment lingers. “Ready for what?” Y/N demands, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at Harry expectantly. “I’ve been trying to call you all day about the dress, and you didn’t answer a single time, so I don’t know what—”

“The dress?” Harry’s brow draws together deeper, his easy going demeanor twisting to match Y/N’s within a moment. “Why were you calling about the dress? Does it not fit?”

Y/N’s mouth gapes open at the question. “I haven’t tried it on, Harry, I—”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I can’t accept it!” Y/N exclaims, the suffix of obviously unspoken between them. “It’s way too expensive by itself, let alone with the shoes and the purse!”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Harry responds in a slow and careful voice. “Why don’t we step inside, love, and continue discussing this while you get ready, yeah?”

Y/N scoffs at the condescension in his voice, but does as he says, stepping back from the doorway and allowing Harry to walk inside before locking the door behind him. “Ready for what?” She demands again, following Harry’s path down the hallway to the living room. “You still haven’t told me!”

“Christ, Watson, I thought if I sent you a dress and heels, you’d figure it out!” Harry replies with a half-joking sigh, a degree of annoyance beginning to work its way into his tone as he touches the ribbon of one of the Gucci boxes. “You’re losing your touch, huh?”

“Okay, well, apparently I’m a little slow tonight, so fill me in, Sherlock.” Y/N matches Harry’s snippy remark with ease, pinching the bridge of her nose as her head begins to throb in irritation. “What’s going on? What obvious clue have I missed?”

“I sent you the outfit for you to wear—”

“I figured that much out, thanks.”

Harry’s emerald eyes snap to hers in an exasperated flat glance before continuing. “—to dinner. I made us a reservation at my favourite Italian place, and I thought that the dress and the shoes would be enough of a hint that I could keep the rest a surprise.” He gathers the ribbon with his fingers again, rubbing the fabric between them as his face drops its usual haughty front. “You really didn’t...you didn’t try it on? Do you not like it?”

The disappointed hesitation threaded through Harry’s thick accent stops Y/N short, worming its way into her aggravated chest and leaving a spark of guilt behind. When she speaks again, her voice is dulled by genuine warmth, less sharp and pointed and more soothing and grateful. “I...I do like it. It’s a lovely dress; a little more body-hugging than what I would’ve picked, truthfully, but it’s beautiful.” Y/N offers Harry a soft teasing smile before continuing. “I just...I can’t accept something so expensive from you.”

“Why not?” Harry’s brows re-furrow in sheer confusion as he drops the ribbon from his grip, turning to face her fully. “It’s just a dress, Y/N—”

“It’s a Gucci dress. And purse. And Louboutin shoes.” Y/N states with a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms over her abdomen as she drops her gaze to the rug she’d picked out from IKEA. “It’s too much, Harry. I know you meant well, but I can never...I could never pay you back for this, or give you something as nice, or…”

A disheartened pout tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as he registers the mortal’s words. It hadn’t occurred to him that his gift could be perceived negatively; he’d just thought she’d like it. He likes to think their friendship is in comfortable enough territory now that gifts wouldn't be a turnoff, especially because of how much more time they’ve been spending together outside of the bedroom. However, as he stands here now watching her hug herself in the living room of the tiny apartment she’d told him she was so proud to afford, he can see how wrong he’d been in that assumption. Y/N is independent, and has been from the moment he met her. A gift like this— so extravagant and expensive— could come off as him mocking her financial status, almost, even if it had originally been bought with good intentions.

Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth as something that feels a lot like embarrassment begins to boil in his stomach. She’ll feel like she owes him something, when that’s the farthest thing from the truth. If anything, it’s long overdue payment for everything Harry has unknowingly taken from her.

“I don’t care about that.” Voice dropping quieter, Harry takes a step forward, his cool fingers wiggling their way between hers and pulling her arm from her tummy. Once her hand is within his grasp, he squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles. He talks slowly, keeping his tone level and honest to communicate the real innocence behind his prestigious present. “I don’t need you to pay me back, and I don’t want you to feel bad. The money thing— that’s not an issue for me. And I understand if...it makes you uncomfortable…” His gaze flickers to the ground as well before meeting hers again. “I can take it back if you’d like, if it bothers you that much. But I was hoping…”

He rubs his finger over his cherry lips pensively, taking a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “Well. The reservation is already made, I’m already dressed— and looking like a proper stud, if I may say so myself—” He laughs once in an attempt to lighten the mood, his eyes glued to Y/N’s face to see if she takes to the joke. He feels cool relief flood his veins when she scoffs slightly, the edges of her mouth ticking upwards humorously. “And you’ll match me so well in that dress that it’ll probably put me to shame, dove.”

Y/N glimpses up at him hesitantly, squeezing his fingers with a playful air. “You’re really good with words, y’know that?”

“I like to think I’m good at quite a few things.” Harry grins suggestively, cheekily squeezing her grasp right back. “And I hope I can add ‘getting you all dolled up and convincing you to come along to dinner with me’ to that list. So...what do you say?”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip as she mulls over the suggestion, her fingers grazing over the lionhead ring on Harry’s hand. He has gone to a lot of trouble, she thinks, glancing over his appearance one more time. His curls are carefully coiffed, his skin is practically glowing, his trusty cross necklace glints alluringly in the buttery lighting, alongside a small gold hoop on his pierced ear, and the way the suit fits over his body, hugging every flexing muscle and annunciating every hypnotizing curve…

“What time is the reservation?” She finally asks, eyes flickering to the clock on her wall that reads ten after five.

Harry’s eyes follow hers. “Seven.” He says immediately, licking his lips once as he grips her hand in anticipation again. “We have plenty of time to make it, if— if you want to.”

It could’ve easily been the money Harry spent on the clothing that sways Y/N to say yes. It could’ve been the humiliation of not realizing what he was planning and ruining his surprise. But in reality, the thing that causes the next sentence to fall from Y/N’s mouth is the quiet weariness in Harry’s tone— a certain shyness that she hasn’t seen in him before, paired with a specific type of subtle raw hope that makes her heart absolutely melt.

“Alright.” She murmurs, nodding her head once as she draws away from his touch. “I’ll go shower, then, and get ready. Are you alright waiting out here?”

A relieved smile jolts at the corner of Harry’s lips as he easily nods in return. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’d offer to hop in with you, but…” He gestures to himself vaguely as his grin widens with conceited teasing, shrugging one shoulder offhandedly as if what he says next should be obvious. “We wouldn’t want to ruin perfection, now would we?”

The jesting response pulls an eye roll from the human girl. “Uh huh.” She snorts, snatching her phone from the coffee table as she begins to make her way to the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” Harry calls after her, slipping his own phone from his pocket. The click of the door lock pricks his ears, but he waits until he hears the shower running to unlock his device and dial the restaurant number.

“Bella Vita Ristorante, how many I help you?”

Harry exhales hard as he rubs a hand over his eyes, his head falling back to hang off his shoulders as his mind recalculates the evening’s plans, shifting things out of place to mold everything around this minor hiccup. He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible, swallowing down the instinctive bothered bite threatening to elbow through. “May I speak to Vincenzo, please?”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment, please.” There’s a shuffling on the other end of the line, and Harry’s gaze slides to the Rolex on his wrist as he waits, not nearly as patient as he knows he should be.

“Hello?” A familiar rough Italian accent echoes through the phone speaker, followed by a light clearing of the person’s throat. “This is Vincenzo.”

“Ciao, Vincenzo, é Harry.” Hi, Vincenzo, it’s Harry. He answers in Italian on reflex, gliding his hand over his lips once more as he fights the urge to tug on his styled hair. “Come stai?” How are you?

Friendly excitement breaks into the man’s voice the second the vampire makes his identity known. “Signor Styles, sto bene, grazie! Non vedo l'ora di vedere te e la tua ospite stasera.” Mr. Styles, I’m well, thank you! I’m looking forward to seeing you and your guest tonight.

Harry glances at the bathroom door symbolically, exhaling curtly through his nose. His tone comes out apologetic and unsure. “Sì, chiamo di stasera. Abbiamo riscontrato un piccolo problema. C'è un modo per spingere la prenotazione da sei a sette?” Yes, I’m calling about tonight. We ran into a little problem. Is there any way we can push the reservation from six to seven?

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry waits with bated breath for Vincenzo’s reply. The waiter’s response flows through the phone with a rueful heaviness that makes the immortal’s stomach plummet. “Siamo molto impegnati stasera, Harry… È un sabato, dopotutto.” We’re very busy tonight, Harry… It’s a Saturday, after all.

A frustrated sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he scratches at the nape of his neck, once again itching to yank at his curls but forcing himself to refrain the impulse. “Lo so, Vincenzo, e mi dispiace chiederti il favore, ma devo. Sai che te lo devo e ti lascio una generosa mancia.” I know, Vincenzo, and I’m sorry to ask you such a favour, but I have to. You know I’ll owe you, and I’ll leave a generous tip.

When Vincenzo replies, the hesitation in his voice is gone, replaced by reassurance and familiar fondness. “No, no, Harry, non mi devi niente. Per te, non è un problema. Gli amici aiutano gli amici per gentilezza, lo sai. Mi assicurerò che il tuo tavolo sia pronto per le sette.” No, no, Harry, you don’t owe me anything. For you, this is no problem. Friends help friends out of kindness, you know that. I’ll make sure your table is ready for seven.

Harry heaves a grand sigh of relief, a wide smile cracking his face in half. His head swings forward as a light laugh falls from his ruby lips, all tension washing out of his strong shoulders in one swift wave. “Grazie mille. Ti devo, lo fare.” Thank you so much. I owe you, I do.

His friend’s casual demeanor filters through the phone with a dismissive click of his tongue, and Harry can practically see the older man waving his hand passively. “Senza senso. Ci vediamo più tardi, sì?” Nonsense. I will see you later, yes?

“Sì. Grazie ancora. Ciao, Vincenzo.” Yes. Thank you again. Goodbye, Vincenzo.

As Harry hangs up the phone, he feels a weight lift off his chest. He knows that it wouldn’t have been a problem if Vincenzo had been unable to move the reservation; all it would’ve taken is a few words of persuasion at the host stand, and Harry would’ve been able to waltz right into the restaurant. But Vincenzo has been kind to him— has been such a good friend, really— and Harry would hate to tarnish that relationship.

With the new reservation secured, Harry tucks his phone back into his suit pocket, turning his attention to the gifts he’d brought Y/N that are still in their boxes. He removes the satin dress from its packaging, meticulously folding it over his arm as he snags the clutch and heels with his hands and carries them to Y/N’s room.

Harry nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot, hesitating in the door frame as Y/N’s familiar honey and lavender scent fills his senses, and the vampire’s gaze slinks over a place he’s spent countless hours in as she’s slept soundly next to him. There’s been a few changes, he observes— warm satisfaction begins to bloom in his chest when he sees the tapestry on the wall has been replaced with the framed Monet print from the antique mall, her half emptied overnight bag is lying on her chair still from her last overnight stay at his condo, and the comforter on her bed hasn’t been fixed back in its usual place. Harry sets the Louboutins on the ground before tugging the comforter back into order, draping the dress onto the bed and smoothing the creases that formed. After he lays the clutch down next to the dress, Harry steps back and admires his choices. It was good that he’d gone with the black satin, he thinks, brushing a hand over the shining fabric with a fulfilled expression. It’s simple, yet elegant, and matches him perfectly, which brings a flutter of pleasure to his dormant chest like nothing else.

With the dress sufficiently laid out, Harry turns on his heel to leave, and his quick movement blows an unfamiliar scent around the room. Harry inhales deeply, wrinkling his nose in response to the thick fragrance of carnations and cedar that settle into his senses. While cedar isn’t one of his favourite scents, he doesn’t usually mind it, but the overpowering presence of carnations nearly gags him, and Harry twists back around to find the source of the offensive stench.

It only takes a second for his eyes to settle on the cause, a new addition to Y/N’s bedroom that he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in. He takes one stride across the small room to her bedside table, picking up the object with a gentle grip.

The picture frame is made entirely of glass, but has a decorative gold edge lining the small rectangle as both decoration and protection of delicate hands from sharp corners. In the center of the frame is a photo of three girls dressed in navy blue caps and gowns with red and white sashes around their necks, their arms thrown around each other as their posture curves, and bright smiles on all of their faces. Although she looks years younger, her hair is longer, and her eyes more naive, Harry recognizes Y/N on the left right away. The identities of the other two girls, however, stump him.

Of course he wouldn’t recognize them on sight, as Harry has never met any of Y/N’s hometown friends, but his ruby lips drop into a frown when he realizes that he can’t even conjure a name for either of the girls. No first initial, no general idea— just nothing. They’re ghosts to him.

Harry traces a finger down the younger Y/N’s face, searching for any part of the woman he knows now in the girl who existed then. The acne on her cheeks that she’s covered in makeup for the photo match the pattern of light scarring she has on her face, small marks that Harry’s traced in the dead of the night as he listens to her breathe. Her eyes, while younger, do show a faint glimmer of that stubbornness that he’s been so prone to witnessing. But it’s her smile, Harry realizes, that is the most different. While the size and shape of it are the same, there’s a dullness to it that digs into his mind, scraping against his every perception of her. This is around the time she’d have been with her ex, he remembers, dragging a finger down the edge of the frame. But what else was life like for her there? She had friends, obviously, friends who still care about her enough to send her this framed photo drenched in their carnation and cedar scent. Life couldn’t have been all that bad.

He sets the framed photo back down on her bedside table, scanning the room with a keen eye more closely than he had before. If he tore through every book on her wall of shelves, would he find any inscriptions written to her from a person in her past? Notes that had been slipped between herself and others in high school science class, still pressed between yellowed pages as bookmarks? What if he dug into her bedside table drawer? Would he find more pictures, letters from those she’d left behind? It’s strange to think that with all the time Harry has spent in this room, there’s still so many secrets buried within its four glossy walls.

Harry settles his gaze onto the silk dress once again, worrying his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he does so. Y/N had been worried that a Gucci dress wouldn’t be a good fit for her, and while Harry had thought she meant she couldn’t wear a designer brand, maybe she’d meant she didn’t want to. Maybe her hesitation didn’t lie in just the cost of the outfit, but in her not wanting something so extravagant.

Sucking in a short breath through his teeth, Harry clears his mind of the thought. Y/N wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t want to, he assures himself, quickly adjusting the hem of the dress on the bed. And besides, it’s just for a few hours. She’ll be out of the dress soon enough, and into…

Harry turns back to her vanity, swiping the overnight bag from where he’d spotted it on the chair. A pair of sweatpants already lies inside, but Harry still tugs open Y/N’s dresser and snags another pair, as well as a comfortable t-shirt for her to sleep in. He packs two pairs of fresh panties as well, one high-waisted cotton and another a cheeky pretty lace (the latter is definitely for selfish reasons, if he’s being honest) along with Y/N’s favourite pair of fuzzy slipper socks, because he knows how her feet get cold on the tile of his kitchen floor in the mornings.

The image in his head brings a smile to his face as he grabs a few hair ties from her vanity and throws them into the bag, along with her half empty bag of makeup removers. She always gets a chill in the morning in general, so she normally emerges from his bedroom with one of his sweaters tugged around her tired body, half mumbling incoherently until Harry slides a cup of coffee into her hands. In truth, sleeping next to his icy body probably does nothing to help the mortal, but Harry just tries to wrap her in an extra blanket to help remedy the situation.

Just as he’s tugging the zipper on the back shut, he hears the creak of the bathroom door, followed by the soft steps of Y/N’s feet against the runner rug down her hallway. Harry straightens up just as the bedroom door is nudged open, and whatever sharp comment was on the tip of his tongue dies away as he sees Y/N.

She’s already done her hair, having styled it into soft curls that are pinned back from her face with two gold clasps on either side of her head, and if Harry were in a more comprehensive mindset, he’d be pleased that the gold will match the adornments on the clutch. But Harry isn’t in a comprehensive mindset, due to the fact that Y/N’s body, still damp from her shower, is wrapped in only the smallest blue towel Harry has ever seen.

After Y/N shuts the door behind her, she turns around and sees Harry standing in her bedroom with a bag in his hand, and she clutches the towel tighter to her chest in surprise. “Harry—” Her heartbeat stutters as she locks eyes with the creature before her, her cheeks immediately flushing with heat. “What are you doing? I said to wait in the living room!”

“I know.” He licks his lips slowly as his eyes flicker down her figure and back again, the bright emerald darkening to jade when he meets her gaze once more. “I was just laying out your outfit. Although now that you’re here, wearing only that—” He gestures to the towel with his free hand as the edge of his lips curl. “Why don’t we just cut out the middleman and have a quick shag?”

Y/N scoffs in response, pushing her way past her lover to her dresser drawers. “I already showered, H, and I even put effort into my hair, so we have to go out. Can’t waste it, y’know?” With her hand wrapped around the handle of her dresser, the human girl pauses, her gaze drifting curiously from Harry’s face to the bag clutched in his grasp. “What’s that?”

It takes a moment for Harry’s attention to turn from Y/N’s glistening cleavage to the object she’s nodding towards. “Oh, I— uh— I packed an overnight bag for you.” He clears his throat as he sets the bag on the bed, taking a step back from the item like it’s a ticking bomb. “It’s not— I’m not insinuating that you have to stay over if you don’t want to, of course. And you don’t have to use it, but I just thought that if you decided to, you’d want something comfy to sleep in.”

“How is it,” Y/N laughs softly, her curls bouncing as she shakes her head in disbelief. “That you can go from saying you want to fuck me to telling me you packed me an overnight bag, all in the span of one minute?”

Harry presses into the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he chuckles, dimples winking awake and eyes glimmering all at once. “S’easy, really, when you look like that. It makes me horny—”

“Everything makes you horny.”

“—but I’m still a gentleman.”

A low hum echoes from Y/N’s throat as she opens her underwear drawer, surveilling the contents before she begins to rummage for what she’s looking for. “Alright then. Would the gentleman be so kind as to step outside so I can finish getting ready?”

Y/N hears two quiet footsteps behind her before she can feel Harry’s cool breath on her neck, her damp skin prickling at the sensation.

“Do I really have to step outside?” He groans lowly as his lips graze the shell of Y/N’s ear temptingly, and she shivers when his teeth follow behind. “S’nothing I haven’t seen before.”

There’s a nagging temptation in the back of Y/N’s mind to twist around on her heel, drop her towel to the ground, give into Harry’s half-hypnotic seduction, and let him drag her back to her bed to take care of the heat that’s beginning to swell between her thighs. But she knows she’s already pushing the seven P.M. deadline, and if she allows herself to take that detour, she’ll never make it on time.

“Yes.” She mumbles, suppressing a whine as Harry’s lips move to the pulse point on her neck, smudging open kisses down her heated skin. “I just need to do my makeup and get dressed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

A disappointed sigh rustles across the shell of her ear. “Alright.” Harry murmurs defeatedly, smudging one last kiss to her jugular before stepping back from her intoxicating cloud of flowers and sugar that, if the burn in the back of his throat is any indication, is doubly intense from her shower. “I’ll just be outside then, doll. Take your time.”

Y/N keeps her back to Harry, clutching her towel with a clenched hand until she hears the click of her bedroom door shutting behind him. She knows that if she looks at him again, and sees that stupidly suggestive smirk on his face, she’d give him whatever he wants— which, considering she’s already trying to do that by going to this dinner, is a bit of a problem. Once he’s gone, however, she’s free to heave an exhale of relief as she searches for the undergarments she’s pictured in her mind.

While Y/N was in the shower, she’d been trying to picture what she would wear with the expensive dress that Harry had purchased for her. She only has one strapless bra— a nude coloured cotton contraption, which she’d purchased at a Target last minute for a dinner party a neighbour had thrown back home a few years ago— and she didn’t think that pairing the cheap article with a Gucci dress was going to work. Some of her friends back home, however, had just mailed her a little care package earlier in the week, and one of the things they’d included was a strapless bustier with a note reading “Here’s to getting L.A.’d!” tucked inside. They’d meant it as a joke, of course, but as Y/N extracts the lace garment from her drawer, she sends a silent thank you to her friends and their strangely omniscient humour.

Y/N releases her grip on her towel, drying the rest of the dampness from her body quickly before tossing the fabric over the back of her closet door. After selecting a matching pair of black lace panties, Y/N slips the undergarments on, fidgeting with the bustier to get it to sit right.

A gentle knock echoes from the other side of her bedroom door just as she gets the clothing settled. “How’s it going in there, love?” Harry’s voice floats through the crack in the door, half muffled through the barrier. “Have you got the dress on yet?”

“Not yet,” Y/N calls back, sitting down at her vanity as she analytically surveys her makeup. “Patience is a virtue, Holmes, don’t you know that?”

On the other side of the door, Harry lets out a long sigh, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers along the inside of his elbow. “Yeah, well,” He leans his back against the door, sliding one ankle over the other as he lets the wood support his weight. “‘M not very virtuous, Watson. I think you can attest to that.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the wooden door, a smug smile peaking onto his lips as he hears the blood rush to Y/N’s cheeks from inside the room. “What?” He taunts, satisfaction laced into his accent. “Cat got your tongue?”

Pressing his head back against the wood to hear better, Harry is met with the sound of a makeup brush sweeping against Y/N’s silky skin, so quiet that human ears could never detect it. He focuses his attention a little harder to try and picture the steps of her getting ready routine as she performs them.

A rustling of fabric that sounds a lot like lace pricks his ears, taking his attention with it as Y/N grumbles a reply. “You’re such an ass.”

“Ah, nevermind, then. Tongue’s still there, and as sharp as ever, I see.” Harry chuckles lowly as he listens to the nearly silent stroking of mascara over Y/N’s lashes.

He likes that, he realizes, as he raises one hand from its crossed position to rub over his pillowy lips while he waits. He likes hearing the muted sounds of Y/N getting ready— the bristling of makeup brushes against her skin, the hushed hums that leave her mouth as she debates over what colours to use on her eyelids, the muffled spritz of her perfume bottle against her neck. The notes of poppies and vanilla mix with her natural scent of lavender and honey, and Harry’s eyelids flutter when the fragrance rolls under the door and envelops him completely.

It takes a harsh bite of his tongue and digging his fingernails into his clenched palms for Harry to restrain the moan fighting to break through his tightened jaw. Months ago, when he first smelled Y/N in that club, he’d sworn that she smelled more delicious than any aroma he’d ever encountered, but now… Harry wants to laugh at the naivety of his past self, and probably would, if unclenching his jaw didn’t mean letting a growl fall from his throat. Now, he’s convinced Y/N’s scent is an aphrodisiac created just for him. All it takes is one small inhale, and his entire body responds. Even now, as he presses his pounding head back against the panel, he can feel his mouth flooding with venom, his abdomen tightening, and a subtle throb beginning to bulge his—

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice breaks through the cloud of arousal dulling Harry’s senses. “Can you help me zip up the dress?”

The vampire swallows the excess venom in his mouth in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He replies, his voice strained as he struggles to regain control of himself. He clutches the door handle in his icy hand, pushing the barrier open with restrained strength. “Yeah, I can.”

When he steps into the room, he expects to see Y/N facing the door, her hands clutching the loose dress to her chest the way she’d clutched her towel earlier. For a moment, there’s a flicker of excitement in Harry’s belly that beats back the desire rolling around inside him. He’s been waiting to see her in his dress for only a day, but it feels like an eternity, and he pastes a charming smile onto his face as he lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s.

What he’s greeted with, however, is the smooth expanse of the girl’s exposed back, a clear line of tantalizing skin running from the nape of her neck to the curve just below her backside, only broken up by a thick band of black lace with satin ribbing.

While he was able to control himself in the hallway, the inside of Y/N’s bedroom— with her mouthwatering scent surrounding him and her exposed skin in his line of sight— is an entirely different story. Harry can feel the way his canopy green eyes darken, and it’s a good thing Y/N is facing the wall, or else she’d see the shards of crimson that he can’t stop from flitting across his irises. With every step he takes towards the human, he becomes more aware of just how mortal she is— how her heart pounds louder with each passing moment, the shallowness of her breathing as he gets closer, the heat radiating off of every inch of her skin. Even with his centuries of experience behind him, it’s nearly too much for Harry, whose every instinct is screaming at him to lock the door and ravage the girl in front of him in every way he can.

Harry doesn’t stop walking until the front of his chest brushes against Y/N’s back and his breath is hitting her neck. He unhurriedly skims his palms over her bare shoulders, feeling the goosebumps that form underneath his icy touch as his hands run down her arms and back up again.

“This…” His voice is thick with desire as one hand travels down the trail of Y’N’s spine, eliciting a shiver from her before grazing the edge of the black lace. “This is new. I haven’t seen this before.”

“I…” Y/N’s speech falters as she feels Harry’s freezing digits trail down the small of her back as his other hand continues to stroke across her shoulder, barely touching the base of her neck with each movement. “I got it from my friends back home. They, um—” She sucks in a harsh breath as Harry’s hand inches its way towards her throat. “They sent me a package.”

Harry hums low in her ear, the sound vibrating throughout her body before settling in her warming tummy. “Did they? How thoughtful.” With his palm finally at her neck, he squeezes it once, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her jugular as his lips brush against the top of her ear. “I should send them a thank you note.”

The feeling of Y/N swallowing beneath his grip sends another wave of desire crashing over Harry, and he bites back a low growl as the fingertips of his other hand find the golden Gucci emblem zipper at the back of her dress. When he does, he tugs the metal tag up slowly, the sound of the zip barely audible over Y/N’s ragged breathing.

“S’a shame, really.” Harry murmurs in her ear, letting his teeth graze her earlobe just hard enough to catch her breath. “A crying shame.”

“What—” Y/N’s heart pounds out of her chest as Harry squeezes her neck once more, applying just a smidge more pressure than he did previously. “What’s a shame?”

Harry’s lips trail down her jaw, smearing a single kiss along the dip where it curves to meet her neck. His fingers squeeze her one last time before releasing. “That this pretty little piece your friends sent you is going to end up ripped to shreds on my bedroom floor.”

The blunt reply incites a squeak of surprise from Y/N as Harry tugs the zipper completely to the top of the dress, settling the seam flat against her flushed back before stepping away.

“Fits like a glove.” Harry murmurs as his hands return to his sides, fixing the fall of his own suit that was disturbed during his previous actions. He raises a single finger and makes a twirling motion as he dimples a smirk the human girl can’t see. “Give me a twirl, will you, dove?”

Y/N inhales a deep breath as steadily as she can, using the moment to calm her racing pulse before turning around to face Harry with a flustered complexion.

The dress, made of black satin, has a sweetheart neckline that sits off her shoulders, and hugs tight to the curves of her body all the way down to the hem, which sits just above her knees. It could be considered conservative, really, if it weren’t for the leg slit running so far up her thigh that Y/N is a little worried about flashing her underwear every time she takes a step.

Harry, however, seems to share none of those concerns, as he hungrily drinks in the sight of her with a satisfied grin and lust swirling through his jade irises. She’s kept her makeup fairly neutral, save for the bold red lipstick adorning her lips, and while Harry feels a prick of sadness at the realization that he’ll have difficulty kissing her throughout the evening, the idea of smearing said lipstick across her face afterwards erases the feeling completely. And the dress… “Y’look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, angel.” He hums lowly, rubbing his thumb over his lionhead ring absentmindedly. “So much better than Adam did, and without all the complaining, too.”

Y/N stares at her lover with a blank expression “What—?”

“Does it feel alright?” Harry strides around the mortal girl, examining the fall of the fabric with a keen eye. “I took a guess on your size, though I think I did pretty well. I've licked every inch of your body to the point where I practically have it memorized, so it was relatively easy.” He gives her a cheeky grin as his hand grazes her waist. “But Gucci sizing can be a bit tricky.”

“It— yeah. It feels alright.” Y/N tugs on the hem of the dress as she feels heat crackle across her ears, shooting him an accusing stare as she touches the thigh slit. “This is a little much, but other than that…”

“That’s my favourite detail, actually.” Harry laughs lightly as he walks to her bed, taking a seat on the edge before reaching for the Louboutin box. “But it’ll feel a lot more natural once you have the heels on.”

“Uh, yeah, about those…” Y/N eyes the offending shoes as Harry extracts them from the packaging, doubt painting itself all over her face. “Those look like six inch deathtraps, and I don’t really trust something that uses a ribbon to attach itself to my ankle, so I think I’ll take a raincheck on the heels. I have some flats I can wear instead.”

Harry scoffs, a snort echoing from the back of his throat as he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine, love. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You may not trust the shoes, but you can trust me, can’t you?” He unravels the ribbon from one of the shoes and pats his knee expectantly. “C’mere. I’ll make sure I tie them nice and tight, yeah?”

Y/N nearly chews on her bottom lip before she remembers the lipstick she’d carefully applied earlier. “Alright.” She relents, walking over and lifting her foot to rest on his bent knee. “But if I snap my ankle in half, you’re paying my hospital bill.”

“And I would do so gladly, except it won’t be necessary.” A quiet chuckle rolls out of Harry’s lips as he grips her calf gently, fitting her foot into the sole of the heel with one smooth motion. Once it’s sitting nicely, Harry diligently wraps the satin ribbon around her ankle, stopping midway up her calf before tying it tightly into a neat bow. “See? Nice and secure, darling. You’ll be alright.”

Y/N’s cheeks boil as Harry presses a single kiss to the slope of her knee before setting her foot gently on the ground. “Next one, please.” He smiles up at her with a twinkle in his sea glass eyes.

That twinkle, however, darkens the moment Y/N hikes her other bare foot onto his knee, gripping his shoulder for support as she teeters on one heel. The leg that she’s lifting is the side of the dress with the thigh slit, and she can tell from the expression on Harry’s face that he has quite the view.

Just like he did previously with the zipper, Harry takes his time slipping Y/N’s foot into the second stiletto. He trails his fingers all the way up her calf and back down before reaching for the ribbon, and is more meticulous in his motions as he ties the satin around her calf.

Y/N swivels on her other foot as she tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders, fisting the fabric of his suit between her fingers. “Thanks, H.” She clears her throat as Harry’s cool hands keep their grip on her lower leg, massaging the muscle beneath his fingers with careful and concise motions. “That’s, um, that’s good, I think.”

Harry hums in response, letting her know he’s registered her words, but he doesn’t release her from his grip. Instead, he bends at his hips, making sure that Y/N can still grasp him for support as he connects his lips to the smooth skin of her calf.

He smudges his mouth all along the area up to her knee, each kiss sloppy and open-mouthed as he inhales more and more of her intense fragrance. His nose nudges along the tender and dimpled flesh of her thigh, her scent growing stronger the higher Harry gets, and it burns his aching throat with lust and thirst. He can feel the heat radiating from her core, and he wants nothing more than to burrow his face between her legs and lose himself completely in her taste. But he’s already come so far, and put so much work into this night; he can’t let it all go to waste because his self-control is particularly weak at this moment.

With that in mind, he sucks in another long breath, sponging one last kiss to the top of Y/N’s kneecap. “Does it all fit nicely?” He asks, voice gravelly with desire as he squeezes her calf. “The dress, the shoes… is it all alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” Y/N whispers, releasing the fabric of Harry’s jacket before it creases, smoothing it with her palms. “It all fits good.”

“Mmm. Perfect.” His lips twitch against her skin as he drags another searing breath into his lungs. “Anything I give you always fits so fucking good.”

Another flash of heat rises to Y/N’s cheeks, and she nods weakly in response, not trusting her ability to form words. A quiet hum is the only comprehensible noise she can manage. “Mhmm.”

Harry straightens up the slightest bit, giving her an expectant look as he releases the grip of one hand on her calf to lightly touch the shell of his pierced ear. “Sorry, pet. Didn’t hear you quite clearly.” He says, his voice taking on a sterner tone. “Did you agree?”

Although embarrassment begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine, it quickly mixes with irritation. She knows what he’s getting at, and she can’t afford to let herself give in. “Yeah.” She mumbles, keeping her response as short as she can.

Despite the edge beginning to creep into Y/N’s voice, Harry can’t stop himself from pressing the matter. He never can, really, when he’s in a mood like this. When his mouth is filled with venom, when his head is throbbing so much that he can hear a steady drumbeat vibrating through his skull. He can’t stop.

“M’gonna need to hear you say it, I’m afraid.” He raises his ringed hand to the human girl’s chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger as he regards her with a firm and conceited gaze. “Speak up, minx. I know you have no issue with being loud.”

All it takes is that one reminder for all of Y/N’s resolve to fall away, her entire body flooding with warmth as she lets out a trembling sigh. She swallows the weight in her throat down as much as she can, pinning her eyes to where Harry is gripping her calf with a strong hand. “Everything you give me always fits so good.” She whispers, her voice higher than it was a moment before.

Harry squeezes the backside of her knee once. “Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Y/N’s entire body feels as if it’s on fire as sweat begins to bead across her forehead, but her mouth is as dry as a desert. She swallows thickly once more, gathering all the composure she can muster. “Everything—” Her voice cracks once, and she clears her throat as Harry’s thumb sweeps across her chin in an encouraging manner. “Everything you give me always fits so good.”

When she completes the task, Harry gropes her knee once more, but this time the action is a show of satisfaction rather than demand. He trails his fingers up her bent leg to her thigh, only stopping to dig his fingertips into the crease where her backside begins to plump. “That’s my good girl.”

Delicately setting Y/N’s heeled foot back on the ground, Harry rises from the bed, both of her hands grasped in his own to help her remain steady. Once he’s eye level with his lover once again, he leans forward and stamps a chaste kiss onto her forehead, his lips already tugging into a small grin before he pulls away.

“Y’ready to go, then?” He questions casually, smoothing the thumb of his right hand over her knuckles as his left hand snags the Gucci clutch from the bed, along with Y/N’s phone. He unclaps the clutch and settles the phone into its silk lining before handing the bag to the human girl.

Y/N clears her throat once more as she takes a shaky step towards her vanity, grabbing the lipstick she’d applied before and tossing it into the bag, clasping it shut with a final snap. “I suppose so.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she shoots Harry a nervous glance. “I might need you to carry me down the stairs of my building, though.”

Harry laughs once as he grabs the overnight bag he’d packed with one hand and reclaims Y/N’s left hand in the other. “Don’t worry, pet. I’ll make sure Cinderella doesn’t lose a shoe. Or break an ankle.”

“Thanks, Prince Charming.”

“Considering I’m the one that got the dress, I think the Fairy Godmother role fits just a smidge better.”

///

Although it takes careful steps, more than a few stumbles, and Harry’s hand wrapped securely around her waist, Y/N manages to make it down the multiple flights of stairs in her apartment building to Harry’s car waiting below. After the ten minute car ride into downtown L.A., the majority of which is spent with Harry’s hand sitting perfectly still on Y/N’s exposed thigh, the vampire pulls the car in front of a large restaurant with a line of well-dressed parties winding down the sidewalk.

The restaurant itself, Bella Vita, is one that Y/N’s heard of in passing, but has never experienced firsthand herself, probably because it holds a reputation for being the premier Italian restaurant in all of Los Angeles. Shock covers her features as she stares out the car window at the grand glass double doors, but only for a moment; after all, could she have expected anything less from Harry, who seems to indulge in luxuries the way most people do chocolate?

When the passenger side door swings open, the surprise returns as Y/N glances up and sees a blonde man she doesn’t know dressed in a suit holding the door open. The breast of his outfit is embroidered with the restaurant name, but it’s not until Harry, who has already vacated the driver’s side and is behind him, flips the valet his keys.

“Thanks, mate.” Thinly veiled irritation works its way through Harry’s voice as he steps in front of the valet, clapping his large hand over the employee’s shoulder. “I got it from here.”

The valet nods curtly, releasing his grip on the door as Harry extends his hand to Y/N. The mortal girl grasps it within her own, eager to receive the help he offers as she swings her exposed legs out of the low car and onto the ground.

“There we go, love.” Harry’s voice softens as he pulls her to stand, giving her a moment to find her balance on her own before sliding his arm around her hips. “Y’alright?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N nods in confirmation as she folds her arms in front of her body, grasping the Gucci clutch in tight hands while she appraises the packed high-end restaurant. “I see why you insisted on the dress now.”

A low laugh rumbles from Harry’s chest as he shuts the car door with his free hand. “I told you, you need to trust me more. Have a little faith.” He extends his palm towards the valet, shaking his hand quickly and smoothly while sliding him a bill. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo retracts his hand from Harry’s icy grasp with another respectful nod of his head, slipping the bill into the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, Mr. Styles. Enjoy your dinner.”

Y/N watches as the valet hurries to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in and starting the engine with ease as Harry begins to lead Y/N to the door.

“So…” She quirks an eyebrow as Harry confidently bypasses the long line of people waiting to be seated. “You’re Mr. Styles here, are you? Do you come here that often?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, releasing his grip on Y/N’s waist to open the large glass door for her. “Every once in a while, I suppose.” He quips, the answer as non-committal as most things Harry says. Once Y/N steps into the restaurant, the vampire follows closely behind, clutching her warm hand in his own as he leans down to whisper in her ear. “But I wouldn’t say it’s too often—”

“Harry!”

An older man that looks to be in his mid-seventies emerges from behind the corner, dressed in a fine suit and with an animated grin on his tan, weathered face. He waves off the host at the stand who had been about to approach the two new guests, his arms already outstretched towards Harry.

“Vincenzo!” Harry responds with equal enthusiasm as he lets go of Y/N’s hand to clutch Vincenzo’s between his palms. He leans forward and pecks two air kisses onto the employee’s cheeks as the older man does the same. “È così bello rivederti. Come stai?” It’s so nice to see you again. How are you?

Y/N’s eyes widen in utter shock at the fluent Italian that easily slips from Harry’s ruby lips, watching as Vincenzo takes a step back from him with the same excitement as when he first turned the corner.

“Sto bene, grazie. È meraviglioso anche vederti.” I’m well, thank you. It’s wonderful to see you, too. Vincenzo’s attention lists over Harry’s shoulder to Y/N, who is still standing behind him with her mouth half open in bewilderment.

“Grazie ancora per aver riorganizzato la prenotazione per noi.” Thank you again for rearranging the reservation for us. Harry reaches back and intertwines his fingers with Y/N’s again as another Italian phrase slips off his tongue with practiced ease. “Ti devo un favore.” I owe you a favour.

“Te l'ho già detto, non mi devi niente. Gli amici aiutano gli amici.” I’ve already told you, you don’t owe me anything. Friends help friends. Vincenzo raises an eyebrow as he gestures to Y/N, who’s still a half step behind Harry as he carries out the conversation. “A proposito di ... chi è questo, Harry?” Speaking of… Who is this, Harry?

“Perdonami, sono stato scortese.” Forgive me, I’ve been rude. Letting go of Y/N’s hand, Harry drifts his palm to the small of Y/N’s back, rubbing his thumb over the satin of her dress as he gently guides her forward for a proper introduction. “Vincenzo, sono Y/N, la mia ... amica. Y/N, questo è Vincenzo, il titolare del ristorante.” Vincenzo, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my… friend. Y/N, this is Vincenzo Genovesi, the owner of the restaurant.

Y/N’s ears prick up when she hears her name, and she smiles shyly in greeting at the older man. “Hi.” She wants to offer a more formal presentation, but is unsure if he speaks English or not, so she simply extends her hand to shake his.

Vincenzo’s smile grows as he grasps her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and planting an innocent kiss to her skin before taking a polite step back. “È così bello conoscerti. Sei così bello!”

With a gentle squeeze to her love handles, Harry lowers his mouth to Y/N’s ear, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin as he speaks. “He says it’s lovely to meet you, and that you’re very beautiful.” He translates, and Y/N can feel the way he’s smiling into her hair.

A shiver rolls down her spine as his cool breath meets her neck, but she manages to ignore the sensation, and instead sends a grateful smile in Vincenzo’s direction. “Oh… Thank you. Grazie.” She tacks on, and although she tries her best to mimic Harry’s Italian accent, the way the immortal’s body tenses against her side as he represses a laugh tells her that she didn’t pass the test.

Vincenzo, however, waves off Harry’s amused expression, flipping his hand airily in his direction before taking Y/N’s again. She finds out that he indeed does speak English, and it comes out with a thick accent that holds so much genuine kindness, she immediately takes a strong liking to the aged gentleman. “Wipe that grin off your face, cretino, at least she’s trying!” He pats Y/N’s hand reassuringly, shaking his head with a disappointed scoff. “The last time he brought someone here, they spent the entire time doing a Godfather impression. And it wasn’t even a good one!”

“How many times do I have to apologize for bringing Niall until you let me forget it?” Harry sighs in exasperation, his hand snaking around Y/N tighter than before. “I’ve already forbidden him from coming back.”

Shaking his head with a hearty laugh, Vincenzo pats Y/N’s hand once more before stepping back to the host stand and grabbing two leather-bound menus from the shelf. “I will never forget, Harry. But don’t worry; I’ve still reserved your favourite table in the back of the restaurant. Come, bella donna,” He tucks the menus underneath his arm as he gently loops Y/N’s arm through his own, tugging her from Harry’s grasp as he begins to lead her away from the entrance. “Let me escort you to the table, yes?”

Y/N allows Vincenzo to lead her, but glances over her shoulder to meet Harry’s amused gaze as he trails behind them, large hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as his eyebrows poise teasingly. The table in question, she discovers, is tucked away in a private corner of the restaurant, framed by a plethora of flora and candles that reflect back on the stone walls.

Although Vincenzo releases her arm to retract Y/N’s chair, Harry beats him to it, pulling the seat out smoothly and waiting until Y/N is seated comfortably to push the back of it in. He brushes his cool hand over her shoulder, nudging a loose curl away from her bare neck while offering her a dimpled smile.

As Harry takes his own seat across from her, the older Italian man gives him a knowing look, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Solo un amica, eh?” Just a friend, eh?

The vampire half rolls his eyes, nodding his head slightly as he lays the cloth napkin over his thigh, voice stubbornly flat. “Sì. Solo un amica.” Yes. Just a friend.

Vincenzo sets a menu down before each of them, clicking his tongue in unconvinced disbelief. “Non guardi un amica come l'hai appena guardata.” You don’t look at a friend the way you just looked at her.

Flipping his menu open with disinterest, Harry makes a bored sound in the back of his throat, waving off Vincenzo with a leisurely gesture. “Vorrei la carta dei vini, Vincenzo, non la tua opinione non richiesta.” I’d like the wine list, Vincenzo, not your unsolicited opinion.

A laugh echoes from the older man’s belly as he shakes his head in amusement, taking a step away from the table. “Certo, Signor Styles. Lo farò portare subito dal cameriere.” Certainly, Mr. Styles. I’ll have the waiter bring it right away.

Turning his attention back to Y/N, Vincenzo takes her hand and kisses it once more. “Bella donna,” He begins, heaving a long sigh. “It was lovely to meet you. And if this one ever gives you trouble,” he gestures to Harry with a nod, giving her a playfully wink, “I have five grandsons that would die for the opportunity to dine with a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Harry’s face hardens at the comment, but Y/N laughs at the joke, squeezing Vincenzo’s hand before releasing it. “Thank you, Vincenzo. It was so nice to meet you… Next time I come, you’ll have to teach me some Italian.” She adds, glancing at Harry as the curiosity of what they discussed before burns a hole in her belly.

The moment Vincenzo leaves the pair to their own devices, the mortal girl leans forward, the inquiry already falling off her lips. “Speaking of Italian…” She runs her finger around the stem of her empty wine glass, cocking her head to the side. “What were you and Vincenzo talking about?”

Harry waves off her question just as he did Vincenzo’s comments. “Nothing important. Don’t worry,” a sly grin works its way onto his lips as he smoothly changes the subject, “he wasn’t offering to set me up with his granddaughters, if that’s what you were worried about. It seems he only wants you in the family.”

“Who wouldn’t? I’m a delight.” Y/N remarks, a wry smile raising the corners of her lips. “But seriously, Harry— where did you learn to speak fluent Italian?”

The answer rolls off his tongue as easily as the language did. “Italy.” He states simply, as if it should be obvious.

And it’s not a lie; he really did learn in Italy. It just happened to be during the early 1900s, when he had been bouncing around between Florence, Venice, and Rome. He’d liked Italy, actually, and would’ve stayed there longer, but then an Archduke was assassinated, and Harry had to return to Britain to fight in what was then called “the War To End All Wars.” Harry had figured that he might as well, given that he could shrug off bullet wounds as easily as a knick, and could use his blood to help heal other soldiers when travesties struck. The Italian, it turned out, had come in handy as he fought his way through Europe, but considering the bloody conditions under which he did so, Harry much prefers using it to woo a lovely girl in an expensive restaurant.

“Italy.” Y/N repeats the word in a deadpan voice, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back in her chair, kinking an eyebrow stubbornly. “When were you in Italy?”

Ah, Harry thinks, habitually rubbing his thumb over his ruby lips. It seems a little white lie is necessary. “During uni. I did a semester abroad.”

For a moment, he thinks that Y/N doesn’t buy the fib. Her other eyebrow quirks upwards to meet its partner, but her gaze remains as suspicious as it has been since she first asked the question. When she finally opens her mouth to speak, there’s a small, irrational part of Harry that thinks she might prod for more.

“What do you mean, ‘a semester abroad’?” She questions, and Harry is about to over-explain when her posture suddenly relaxes, her arms returning to her sides as an easygoing laugh falls from her mouth, a seemingly entertaining realization dawning on her. “Wait, you grew up in England! You already lived abroad!”

A breathless and relieved chuckle rolls out of Harry as his shoulders drop, the tension rolling out of him as he leans forward. “I suppose that’s true, hm?” He hums, reaching for Y/N’s warm hand and tugging it onto the table to intertwine her fingers with his own. “I really just went a few doors down the neighborhood, didn’t I?”

“You really did.” Y/N sighs wistfully, drifting her thumb over the back of Harry’s knuckle without a second thought. “I’m jealous, though. I wish I had gone away for school, even just to a different state. I could’ve been living in Washington, or Oregon, or New York. It would’ve been so nice.”

The corners of Harry’s lips weigh down into a frown as he considers the possibilities laced into the comment. “I suppose, but…” He casts his gaze towards their knitted hands. Hers looks so much smaller wrapped inside his. “If you did, then you might not have moved to L.A. And then we wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, Mr. Styles, Miss Y/L/N.” A waiter that Harry hasn’t met before appears beside the table with a wine menu clasped in one hand and a basket of bread in the other.

The server is younger than others Harry has seen before, but Harry knows Vincenzo hires his staff carefully, and that he wouldn’t send anyone too inexperienced to take care of Harry. From the sweat beading his brow, the vampire can tell that Vincenzo has given the waiter a speech about Harry’s status with the restaurant owner, and the thought brings a small spark of satisfaction to him. However, that satisfaction disappears the moment he sees the waiter’s eyes linger on Y/N a moment longer than needed. He nods kindly to both of them, but the immortal can’t evade the small spark of irritation that zips down his spine at the employee’s subtle interest in his companion. Shifting in his seat, Harry tightens his grasp on Y/N’s hand, but keeps his demeanor neutral and polite. It’s not like he can blame the poor boy, really. Not when Y/N’s silky lips are sheathed in such a breathtaking shade of red.

“My name is Luca, and I’ll be your server for tonight.” He shifts his attention back to Harry as he sets the bread basket on the table before extending the small leatherbound menu to him. “Here’s the wine list you asked for, Mr. Styles. I’ll give you some time to look it over, and then I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”

Although his right hand is closer to the server, Harry reaches for the menu with his left in order to maintain his grasp on Y/N’s. “Thank you, Luca. I appreciate it.”

Luca nods once as he takes a step back from the table, clasping his hands behind his back. “Prego, signore.” You’re welcome, sir.

Harry’s eyebrow jolts up in mild surprise. “Oh, parli italiano?” Oh, you speak Italian? He asks, the flip in language gliding down his tongue without so much as a second thought. Harry hadn’t expected it, given that the young man’s natural accent is as American as can be.

Pausing on the ball of his foot, Luca nods as colour begins to rise to his cheeks. “Sì, signore, la mia famiglia è italiana. Mia nonna mi ha insegnato a parlarlo quando ero giovane.” Yes, sir, my family is Italian. My grandmother taught me to speak it when I was very young.

“Tua nonna è una signora molto intelligente, allora.” Your grandmother is a very smart lady, then. Harry’s mind drifts back to his own upbringing, when his mother would gather him and his sister around the table on Sunday nights, reading them Latin passages by candlelight. The memory brings a sad smile to his face. “Grazie per il menu. Lo daremo un'occhiata.” Thank you for the menu. We’ll take a look at it.

Luca nods again, but there’s hesitation in the motion as his eyes drift to Y/N once more, flickering from her own gaze back down to her crimson lips. “Is there anything I can get you before I go, miss? Some water, perhaps?”

Y/N sends a bright smile to the young man, nodding her head as a strand of her curled hair loosens from its pin. “Yes, please. And thank you.”

“Due acque, Luca.” Two waters, Luca. Harry interjects, clearing his throat quietly as he catches the human boy’s eye, giving a curt jut of his chin that signals he’s done ordering for the time being. “Grazie.”

Y/N reaches for the basket of bread the moment Luca has scurried away, her eyes lighting up as she hears the first slice crackle open. “Ooh, garlic bread.” She thrums happily as she takes a small bite while being mindful of her red lipstick, setting the rest of the bread on her side plate as she chews slowly and indulges the flurry of delicious flavors. She talks lightly over a semi-full mouth, careful as to not give Harry an unpleasant eyeful. “So what’s on the menu for drinks? I’m assuming you’re, like, an expert on wine, right?”

Harry’s lips twitch as he bites back a laugh at the hint of annoyance in her voice. “What makes you say that?”

“You shop Gucci like it’s Target, you speak Italian, you’re a regular at this place…” Y/N’s eyes sweep over their private corner of the restaurant before sending a teasing glance to Harry. “Being a sommelier on the side just seems like something to add to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at.”

Despite the small jab, a satisfied smile settles on Harry’s lips as he squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You really are good at stroking my ego, aren’t you, dove? I suppose we can add that to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at?”

The familiar comment brings Y/N back to the night the two of them met, in a dark and deafening club that’s the complete opposite of their current location. She twists her fingers within Harry’s, flipping their hands to examine his palm as memories float through her mind like movie scenes. How Harry had looked when he first walked over, the soothing and seductive tone of his voice, how she’d done her best to match his flirtatious compliments… how he’d kissed her in his car before taking her back to her apartment. She should’ve known then, Y/N thinks, that she wouldn’t have been able to let someone like Harry be just a one night stand.

“I guess I’ll allow you to add it.” Y/N murmurs teasingly as she clasps their hands together once more. “But, unfortunately for me, wine knowledge is not on that list, so… you pick something. I trust your taste.”

“Alright, then. No pressure for me.” Harry jokes, snapping his gaze from her hypnotizing irises to peruse the menu once more. “Would you like red, white, or rosé?”

The human hums as she considers the question, pursing her lips in thought, as if the answer she gives is life or death. “Red, I think.” She replies, watching as Harry’s brow furrows in thought while shifting his eyes to the red wine list.

A moment later, Luca appears again with two glasses of ice water balanced on a tray, which he sets down on the table before each of them. While both of them offer a murmur of thanks, it’s only Y/N’s show of gratitude that incites a darkening of his cheeks.

Another thread of irritation flares down Harry’s spine, but he forces himself to dampen it down with a reminder that if he were the one waiting on Y/N— rather than being the one sitting across from her— he’d probably be doing the exact same thing. “Penso che abbiamo preso una decisione, Luca.” I think we’ve made a decision, Luca. He says with a tight smile, snapping the wine menu shut and handing it back to the young man. “Prendiamo due bicchieri del tuo cabernet sauvignon, per favore.” We’ll have two glasses of your cabernet sauvignon, please.

Luca nods as he accepts the menu, his eyes flickering to Y/N’s ruby lips yet again. That’s three times in the last ten minutes...not that the vampire’s counting or anything.

“Ovviamente. Li prendo per te che scrivi.” Of course. I’ll get those for you right away. The server answers politely before tucking the menu under his arm and hurrying off.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Y/N says the moment the waiter is gone, her eyes alight with amusement as she pulls her hand from Harry’s to take a sip of her ice water. “But I can’t ignore it.”

Clearing his throat as he reaches for a slice of garlic bread, Harry slinks his head to the side before answering. “Ignore what?” He asks offhandedly, taking a bite of his bread and chewing it slowly. Had Luca’s fascination with her crimson smile not gone unnoticed? Or had Harry’s aggravation begun to show on his face?

“The Italian.” Y/N admits, setting her glass down and sitting forward as she rests her bent elbows on the table, propping her head upon her interlocked fingers. “I feel a bit left out, and, truthfully, a little jealous. I want to learn.”

A playful laugh echoes from Harry’s throat as he taps a ringed finger against the table. “I can’t exactly teach you an entire language over one dinner, sweetheart. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Hm. I know. It’s tragic.” Y/N sighs, giggling quietly at the way Harry’s laughter cuts off completely and is replaced with a wounded sound of protest. “But what about some important phrases? Just so I’m not in the dark all evening while you play Roman Holiday?”

Harry prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright. Why don’t we start with Mi dispiace?”

“Mi dispiace.” Y/N repeats slowly, trying her best to wrap her red lips around the Italian diction. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘I’m sorry’, which one could say in reference to, oh, I don’t know…” Harry shrugs lightly, matching the motion with a theatrical dejected sigh. “Insinuating that your date is without certain… talents?”

Although Y/N laughs again, she reaches across the table and wraps her hand around Harry’s, trying to tamp down the mirth in her voice when she replies. “Mi dispiace.” She repeats again, giving Harry her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“That’s passable, I suppose.” Harry props his chin up in his palm, rubbing his thumb over his pillowy lips in thought. “And then we have ti perdono— I forgive you.”

“How kind of you, Mr. Styles.” Y/N simpers, biting her tongue between her teeth to hold back more sounds of glee. “Give me another one.”

Harry regards her with a thoughtful air, his hand sliding from his mouth to his hair to tug on his styled curls before traveling back down to rest on the table. His voice comes out a tad deeper, a vein of sultriness running beneath it that she just barely detects. “Sei molto bella con quel vestito.”

One of the words tweaks Y/N’s memory from earlier, but she still traces a finger over Harry’s initial rings as she locks eyes with him expectantly. “What does that mean?”

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Harry peers at her through his thick lashes as he encircles his free hand around the stem of his water glass. “You look very beautiful in that dress.”

A pleasurable flush rolls through Y/N’s belly at the compliment. No matter how many times Harry pays her a positive comment, she somehow always still feels a rush with each word that falls from his soft lips. “Thank you.” She mumbles shyly, tucking her thumb between Harry’s ring and pinkie finger. “I mean— grazie.”

“Try saying it back to me.” Despite the encouraging words that are said under the guise of teaching, there’s an undercurrent of command that turns the satisfaction in Y/N’s tummy to anticipation. “Molto bella.”

The mortal’s eyes flicker between Harry’s own emerald irises and his mouth as he curls a ringed finger over her hand, stroking the icy digit over her heated skin. “Molto bella.” She repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fantastico, tesoro.” The praise slips easily from his lips as he lets himself bask in the warmth her flesh brings to his.

“‘Tesoro’,” Y/N repeats, a tinge of confusion settling onto her face. “What does that mean?”

“It’s, uh,” Harry scoffs to himself in realization, unaware he had even let the term fall from his mouth. “It— well, it means ‘treasure,’ but it’s kind of the Italian equivalent of ‘darling’.”

The vampire can hear the way Y/N’s heartbeat spikes, sending a new wave of blood to warm her cheeks. “That—” The human girl mimics the way he’d cleared his earlier as she reaches for her water glass. “That’s pretty.”

“It is, yeah. You’ll probably be hearing it often.” Harry continues to drag the pad of his finger down the ridges of his lover’s knuckles as a fond smile crescents his Cupid’s bow. “And here’s another one you’ll be hearing often— piegarsi.”

Y/N pauses with her water raised halfway to her lips. “And what does that one mean?”

Harry waits until her mouth has reached the rim of the glass and she’s taken a sip of ice water. “Bend over.”

The response is instantaneous, just as he’d imagined. The mortal chokes on her water, coughing up a storm as she quickly lowers the drink from her mouth, half bending over the table and yanking her hand from his as her cheeks light with fire. “Harry!” She gasps once she regains her breath, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else at the restaurant overheard his lewd statement.

“What?” He asks innocently, but quickly gives into snickering, his body curling over the table as he cackles. “I’m not wrong! You really will be hearing it often, so you should know what it means!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to say it in public!” Y/N exclaims hotly, shooting him a look of irritated disbelief that’s exaggerated to hide the boiling that’s working its way into her stomach.

Still chuckling every few moments, Harry reaches for her hand once again, interlocking their fingers and bringing her palm to his mouth. “Alright,” He kisses her heated palm while gazing at her through half lidded eyes. “Alright, I’m sorry. Mi dispiace, tesoro.”

Y/N purses her painted lips, but sighs in defeat after a few moments of Harry’s moony eyes boring into her own. “Fine. I forgive you. Ti perdono.”

Although the annoyance has faded from Y/N’s complexion, Harry still keeps her hand flushed to his lips, stamping kisses to a new area of skin with unpatterned frequency. He’s not certain if her warmth is just her or the residual embarrassment, but he doesn’t care. It’s just nice, he thinks, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at Y/N from across the table. It’s comfortable.

“I have your glasses of cabernet sauvignon, Mr. Styles.” Luca interrupts from beside Harry, who had been so focused on the feeling of Y/N skin against his that he hadn’t noticed the waiter’s return.

Harry gently lowers Y/N’s hand from his mouth, setting her palm down on the table with care. “Grazie.” Harry says casually, straightening his posture to allow Luca to set the glasses down.

Y/N does the same, offering the young server a thankful smile once again. “Grazie.” Her voice rings sweetly from behind her lips, her confidence more stable thanks to Harry’s miniature Rosetta Stone lecture.

“Prego, signorina.” Luca matches the Italian easily, his eyebrows raising in hopeful shock. “Parli anche italiano?” Do you speak Italian, too?

The human girl’s eyes flick to Harry as her mouth falls open without sound, and the immortal reads the distress signal easily.

“No, lei non—” He cuts himself off in the middle of the address to Luca when he remembers that Y/N doesn’t like being spoken for. Harry redirects his attention back to her questioning eyes. “I mean— he asked if you speak Italian.”

Y/N gives Harry an appreciative smile before turning back to Luca, the expression turning apologetic. “No, I don’t. I wish I did, though.”

“It’s a fairly easy language to learn.” Luca tucks his tray underneath his arm as he regards the girl timidly. “And your accent is wonderful already.”

Harry hides his smirk behind his wine glass, stifling the laugh that’s threatening to sound. The server must be entranced by her beauty, he thinks, because that’s the most blatant lie Harry has heard in a long time.

Y/N, however, accepts the compliment with ease. “Thank you. It’s not true, but I appreciate the effort to be kind.”

The tips of Luca’s ears redden as he laughs breathlessly. “Are you, um, ready to order?”

“Oh, uh—” Y/N drops her gaze to the unopened menu in front of her before offering an rueful glance at the waiter. “I still need a few minutes, I think.”

“That’s alright, take your time. I’ll be back shortly.” Luca assures her, turning to Harry and giving one last nod of acknowledgement before leaving them again.

Despite already having the menu of the restaurant memorized, Harry slides the leatherbound cover open, dragging a ringed finger down the smooth pages as he feigns searching for a dish. “You know…” He flits his gaze to Y/N’s face as an amused grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “That’s really not fair of you.”

Y/N looks up from her own opened menu the moment Harry speaks, a bemused shadow falling over her face. “What’s not fair of me?”

Harry reaches for his wine glass as he laughs gently, shaking his head before taking a small sip of the smooth cabernet. “Being so charming to Luca. The poor boy looks like he’s going to pass out each time you speak to him.”

Her cherry lips curve into an exasperated smile as she rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what you mean.” She states, turning her attention back down to the cursive menu.

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Harry replies dryly, quirking an eyebrow as he sets his beverage back down on the table. “So you’re not noticing how his eyes are glued to your mouth every time you say something?”

“Nope,” Y/N pops her lips on the last consonant sound of the word as she reaches for her own wine glass. “Because it’s not happening. We’re just talking, H. He’s the waiter; he has to look at me.”

“Right.” Harry drags the word out, completely unconvinced. His own eyes glue to Y/N’s lips as they wrap around the edge of her glass, his throat growing slightly parched as he studies the way they curve in a manner that he deems practically flawless. “So do you think the way he’s staring at your tits is also in his job description, then?”

Y/N snorts at the snarky remark, lowering her glass to rest just in front of her chest. “You’re the one who picked out a dress with such a low neckline.” She unwraps her index finger from the wine glass to point it at him in an accusatory manner. “Why did you get it, then, if you didn’t want my tits out on display?”

Harry takes a swig of his own wine as he fights back a laugh at her bold statement. “Let me fill you in on a little secret, mi amore.” He says, lowering his voice and setting down his delicate glass with a muted thud. “The main reason I got it…” The vampire watches the way Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels the snakeskin tip of his boot brush against the back of her bare calf beneath the table. “Is because I’m curious to see what it would look like as a crumpled heap at the bottom of my staircase.”

The toe of his boot travels higher up her leg, circling around the bend of her knee before just barely grazing the soft flesh of her lower outer thigh. Y/N does her best to control her breathing, but the effort is in vain when the cold metal zipper presses against her dimpled skin.

“Harry…” His name leaves her crimson lips in a warning tone as she glances around the restaurant, eyeing the closest couple five tables away.

“‘M excited to see it later, y’know? Been thinking about ripping it off ever since I zipped you into it.” Harry drags the toe of his boot back down her leg, coasting it lightly against her ribbon-wrapped ankle in small and concise motions. “But I suppose I’ll just have to be a bit more patient. At least I’ll be seeing you like that; poor Luca could only dream of it.”

The human girl clears her throat quietly, taking another measured sip of her wine as she wills herself to steady. “The only thing poor about Luca is that he’s going to come back to the table and I still won’t know what I want.” She shifts her attention back to the open menu, ignoring the eye roll she receives from her lover across the table as she looks over the Italian in front of her. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

“Let me help, cara— which means, ‘dear,’ by the way.” Harry says in an amused voice, dropping his gaze to the cursive menu. “Do you want fish? Pasta? Red meat? Chicken?”

“Maybe pasta.” Y/N murmurs in reply, running a finger down the booklet page as she reads over the Italian descriptions. Her eyes catch the prices next to dishes, and she nearly gasps, but bites back the sound of surprise at the last moment.

“Alright…” Scanning down the pasta list, Harry bookmarks a few dishes he thinks Y/N may like. “You’d enjoy the ‘Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe’, I think.” He muses, rubbing a finger over his chin in thought. “Or the ‘Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto’. That’s kind of like pasta— it’s a potato dumpling, and you can choose if you want a meat or gorgonzola sauce.”

“That sounds good.” Y/N finds the mentioned items on the menu, her eyes sweeping over the Italian descriptions to try and pick out the words Harry mentioned. “I think I’ll go with the last one, with the gorgonzola sauce.” Taking a sip of her wine to seal her decision, Y/N poses a question to Harry. “What are you thinking of having?”

“I’m not sure…” Harry lifts his shoulder in a careless shrug as he continues to scan the menu. “I have a few favourites, and those are always solid choices. The lamb is quite good here; I haven’t had that in a while.”

As Harry peruses his decisions, Y/N begins to chew on the inside of her cheek, narrowly avoiding her habit of biting her lips and ruining the raspberry lacquer she’d painted on earlier as an idea forms in her head.

“Harry,” She begins, waiting until he raises his jade eyes to meet hers before continuing. “When Luca comes back over…” The girl chooses her words carefully, doing her best to voice her question in the most understandable way. “Could you order for me?”

Just as she suspected he might, Harry rests his menu back down against the table, giving his whole attention to Y/N as his brows furrow. “You want me to order for you?” He asks, confusion threaded through his accent as his mind flips back to their first date, when Y/N had nearly skinned him alive for attempting to do just that. “Why?”

She shifts in her seat under his hot gaze, her own eyes dropping to her lap as her cheeks sear. “It’s— It’s in Italian, so it’ll probably be easier if you say it.”

Harry shakes his head in disagreement as he tries to reassure his date. “No, doll, it’s alright if you say it in English. Luca will get it. And if worse comes to worse—” He cracks a smile, tapping a bejeweled finger against the booklet. “Y’can just point. He’ll get the gist.”

Despite the solutions offered, Y/N continues to shift around, her foot bumping against Harry’s boot as a soft sigh falls from her lips. She’d hoped Harry would’ve just accepted the request on her first try, but he seems determined not to repeat his mistake from their first date, which means Y/N has to get a lot more honest.

“No, H, I want…” She purses her lips as she twists her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, gently swirling the dark liquid inside. “I want you to order for me.”

The smile on his face darkens into a befuddled expression. “I mean, I can,” Harry says slowly, closing the menu and sliding it onto the table as he appraises the girl across from him. “But I’m a little confused on your reasoning. Last time I tried to order for you, you said I was trying to make decisions for you—”

“And you were,” Y/N can’t help but to defend herself, flashing a stormy look at Harry from beneath her lashes. “That’s why I’m telling you what I’d like now.”

Harry’s mouth gapes open as he stares at Y/N with a blank expression. A scoffing laugh finally falls from his lips as he shakes his head again, reaching for his wine and bringing the glass to his lips. “You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, d’you know that?”

Y/N lets a beat of silence fall between them as she rethinks her question and how best to phrase it in a way that still lets her feel like she’s living in the twenty-first century. “I mean I— you said that it was polite, right? At that brunch. Your mom taught you it was a sign of respect.” Her eyes fall to the opal ring sitting on his pinky, sparkling in the candlelight like it always does.

Harry lowers his glass, watching Y/N with a guarded gaze. “Yeah.” He murmurs, licking his lips once as he places his cup back on the table. “She did, yeah.”

“And you’ve gone to a lot of trouble tonight— the dress, the reservation, everything— and I just— I wanted to—” The more Y/N tries to articulate her thoughts, the more tangled her thoughts become, and she sucks in a harsh breath of frustration. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Although Harry has a suspicion about her meaning, he doesn’t try to finish her sentence. The last thing he wants to do is make Y/N feel like he’s trying to speak over her. “It’s alright.” He says instead, snaking his hand across the table to weave her fingers through his. “Take your time, tesoro.”

Heeding his advice, Y/N takes a moment to just focus on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers wrapped around hers, and allows her thoughts to gather themselves together on their own. When she tries again, her speech is hesitant, but less frustrated than before.

“I think I… understand you more now.” She mumbles the words, keeping her eyes glued to the shining stones that adorn Harry’s rings. “When you do things that I’m not used to… I know you’re doing them out of kindness, and not because you think I’m incapable.” Raising her stare to meet Harry’s entrancing emerald eyes, Y/N takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve done a lot to make me comfortable, and I appreciate it, so… I want to do something for you. It’s no Gucci dress—” Y/N laughs breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again as her intent flickers away from Harry’s own for just a moment before— to his relief— returning. “— but you were taught it was a sign of respect, like opening a door, or pulling out a chair. So if you want to order for me… you can.” She finishes in a quiet voice. “If you’d like to.”

A slow smile spreads over Harry’s strawberry lips as Y/N wraps up her speech. “Really?” He asks, his voice hushed with delight. “And you won’t accuse me of treating you like you’re incapable?”

Y/N’s eyes flash to him in a darkened glare, but her tone holds a jesting bite. “Not unless you piss me off.”

A soft exhale of air leaves Harry’s nostrils, the beginnings of a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He quips in return, catching Luca’s eye over Y/N’s shoulder as the waiter approaches the table again.

Although his body is turned towards Harry, Luca’s eyes canvas Y/N once more, the action bolder this time as his irises spend longer resting on her cleavage after observing her tinted pout. The lengthened look grates against Harry’s nerves, and he clears his throat in a slightly irritated manner to call the young man’s attention back his way.

“Oh, uhm—” Luca’s ears redden as he turns back to Harry, clearing his throat as he steadies himself. “Sei pronto per ordinare, signor Styles?” Are you ready to order, Mr. Styles?

“Sì,” Harry replies curtly, tapping his thumb against Y/N’s soft hand. “Y/N vorrebbe gli Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto con la salsa al gorgonzola, e io prendo il filet mignon, cotto raro, per favore.” Y/N will have the Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto with the gorgonzola sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon, cooked rare, please. He says smoothly, and he can’t deny the satisfied pleasure that curls inside his belly when he sees the gentle eyes Y/N gives him across the table.

Luca nods once as he takes the menus from the two of them, careful to keep his eyes away from Y/N’s mouth as he gathers her leatherbound copy and scuttles off to submit their orders to the kitchen.

“Okay.” Y/N says reluctantly, squeezing Harry’s hand within her own with a sigh as she watches the waiter disappear. “I will admit, I did notice his eyes drifting a little low there.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Harry asks, eyes widening in dramatized disbelief. He wills himself to keep a triumphant grin off his face, but knows he doesn’t quite succeed. “Did you just admit I was right? Did that just happen?”

“Oh, shut up.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N shakes her head as she takes another bite of garlic bread, her tongue poking from her mouth to catch a crumb at the corner of her lip. “If you’re going to act like such a child, I’ll take it back.”

Harry brings her knuckles to his mouth, brushing them against his lips in a tender motion. “I’m just trying to savour the moment, angel.” His cool breath crawls over her skin, eliciting a shiver from the human girl that he adores. “Who knows when I’ll get to experience it again.”

“Never, if I have any say in it.”

“Should we ask Luca to weigh in on this little debate, too? You know, since he’s practically as acquainted with you as I am.”

“Bite me.”

The monster’s dimples wink at the irony of her insult, and his voice carries a knowing edge that only he can decipher. “Don’t I always?”

They fall into their usual rhythm after that, easily discussing what each of them had been up to throughout the week during their gaps away from the other. Those gaps, Harry realizes as he listens to a work story from Y/N, are becoming shorter and shorter. He’d swung by Y/N’s cafe for lunch on Thursday to order a mediocre at best sandwich, and indulge in a far from mediocre makeout session in the back of his car. And watching Y/N hurriedly tighten her ponytail while she stumbled away from his Cadillac, cheeks flaming as she nearly ran to the employee entrance around the back of the building before her break ended, had prompted Harry to call her that night for a long overdue phone sex session.

Even after they had both helped the other reach climax, and post-orgasm photos had been sent (Harry had received a picture of Y/N stretched out on her bed, her face visibly heated and chest sweaty as she wore nothing but his “enjoy health” t-shirt, and in return, he’d sent a snapshot of his cum-covered abdomen, fingers resting delicately at the edge of his butterfly tattoo), the vampire and human had stayed on the line as they both caught their breath. Harry had followed the nude photo with a picture of him posing with a glass of water and a thumbs up, smiling grandly amidst his colored cheeks and sweaty curls, captioning it “Make sure to hydrate after a workout!” The energy it took to take the self-timed photo was worth it when he’d heard Y/N’s laugh tumble out from the opposite end of the line.

It’s the same carefree laugh that she’s trying to stifle now, her hand pressed over her mouth and nose as her eyes send an apologetic glance at Luca setting her plate of gnocchi down in front of her.

“Thank you, Luca,” She manages to choke out, wiping her eyes with the edge of her thumb to stop the saltwater threatening to rush down her heated cheeks. “It looks delicious.”

Harry nods in agreement as the waiter sets his own dish in front of him, his mischievous smirk still shining at Y/N from across the table. “Grazie.” He says as he curls his lips around his newly topped off wine glass.

Y/N bites her tongue to hold back the continuous laughter that’s on the verge of bursting from her chest like a dam. With every moment Harry keeps his eyes locked on hers, the human girl has to press her lips harder and harder together, and barely manages to wait until Luca has left them again to release the wave of giggles that crest out of her chest.

“Something amusing?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he sets his glass down, hardly able to hold back his own laughter as couples seated away from them begin to take notice of the boisterous sounds.

“You—” Y/N sucks in a ragged breath, half snorting once more as she manages to calm herself enough to take a small sip of wine. The liquid soothes the raw ache in her throat that is practically raw from the convulsed snickers. “You did not say that to him!”

“I did.” Harry answers smugly, adjusting the napkin covering the light grey fabric stretched over his lap before picking up his knife and fork. “He was too certain that no girl had ever faked it with him just because of a leg shake. I couldn’t let him live in that delusion; it’d be a crime, really. Just plain cruel.”

“Oh, right, like telling your friend that all the girls he’s been with have been faking it isn’t cruel?” She gently sets down her wine glass at the edge of her plate as she voices the retort, shaking her head in disbelief. “Poor Niall.”

“Not Poor Niall! I was trying to help him!” Despite the claim, Harry can’t stop himself from chuckling out the words. “How’s he going to fix his ways if he doesn’t know anything is wrong?”

“Alright, so riddle me this, then, Dr. Phil.” Y/N picks up her fork, spearing a piece of gnocchi and holding the chunk above her plate as she issues her challenge to Harry. “How did you become the expert in whether or not a girl is faking it? Do you have a lot of experience with that?”

“Not in the slightest. I think you know that much.” Just as he did before, Harry begins to slide the tip of his boot up Y/N’s calf, relishing in the slight hitch in her breath and stutter of her heart. “If I’m an expert in anything, it’s how to make someone cum until their legs actually shake. That’s why I can tell the fake from the real.”

Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment as she forms a coherent reply. “I guess I do know that.” She relents, opening her eyes just in time to see the simper that’s growing again across Harry’s face as he continues to rub up and down her leg with his shoe. Y/N lifts her fork, carefully slipping the sauce-covered gnocchi into her mouth. “But Niall doesn’t— holy shit.” The mortal gasps as the flavours burst across her tongue, the perfect mix of savoury and salty and drenched in decadence.

“It’s good, innit?” Harry pokes his cheek with his tongue as he slices off a corner of his steak, checking the rarity of the meat before bringing it to his mouth. “There’s a reason this is my favourite restaurant, and it’s not just Vincenzo.”

“It’s fucking delicious.” Y/N can’t think to censor herself as she meticulously chews and swallows the bite, savouring every second before poking another gnocchi onto her fork. “I understand the price now. It’s still outrageous, but I get it.”

Harry watches the way Y/N’s lashes flutter as she chews her bites, and the satisfaction growing in his belly increases. “High quality is worth paying for.” He states, slicing off another portion of steak.

Y/N nods slowly, swallowing the food before pointing the prongs of her fork at Harry’s plate. “How’s your filet mignon?” She asks, spearing another bite of gnocchi onto the utensil. “Worth the price point?”

Dragging the bite on his fork through the sauce that’s pooled on his plate, Harry beckons her forward as he extends the piece towards her. “Open your mouth and find out.”

There’s something about the way that Y/N immediately obeys the command— setting down her own fork and leaning across the table to wrap her lips around Harry’s— that sends a shiver down his spine. With her mouth closed, she slides the cut of beef off the silverware and leans back in her seat, chewing thoughtfully with a contemplative look on her face.

A drop of sauce is smeared from the bite, dripping from the edge of her mouth, and although it goes unnoticed by Y/N, it’s all Harry can see as he watches her savor the bite of food. He leans forward more, collecting the droplet on the pad of his thumb, which he brings to his mouth and licks off casually before settling back in his chair.

“Like it, tesoro?” He asks, an expectant look glinting in his eye as he slices off another bite for himself.

Y/N cocks her head to the side as she swallows, trying her best to focus on the flavour and not the way Harry had been so careful not to smear her lipstick as he touched her. “I like the sauce. It’s sweet, but has a bit of a kick to it. The steak, however…” She wrinkles her nose the slightest bit. “It’s a little too rare for my taste, I think. I’m not really a fan of anything bloody.”

Harry curls his tongue inside his mouth as he allows himself a single laugh. “No?” He questions, spearing a piece of meat and sliding it past his lips. “I can’t say the same. I like my steaks cooked rare. The bloodier, the better.”

“I bet you’re one of those weirdos who orders blue steak, huh?” Y/N asks, taking a gulp of her wine to wash out the taste of the meat. “Like, still cold in the middle, and looking practically raw…”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Harry’s chuckles increase, and he has to hide them behind a false cough to stop himself from drawing more attention. “It tastes much better if the meal is warm.”

Although Y/N doesn’t grasp the full meaning behind his words— and thank God she doesn’t, Harry thinks, because she’d probably run screaming from the restaurant— she hums in acknowledgement as she swirls the wine around her glass.

“But you’re enjoying your meal, right?” Harry changes the subject swiftly, deciding he’s indulged his one-sided humour long enough. “I have no problem sending it back if it’s not to your liking.”

The human’s eyes widen as she swiftly sets down her glass, shaking her head at the question. “No, no, it’s delicious! Probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten, honestly.” She collects another bit on her fork, twirling the potato dumpling through the gorgonzola sauce before motioning to Harry. “Wanna try?”

When Harry nods in response, they slip back into their former position, both of them leaning forward in their seats to meet in the middle of the table. Y/N slips the fork into his mouth, feeling the resistance as Harry’s white teeth meet the strong metal of the cutlery.

Just as had happened to her a few moments prior, a small droplet of sauce gathers at the corner of Harry’s mouth as she pulls her fork away. Y/N collects the sauce with her thumb as Harry had as well, but before she can sit herself back in her chair, Harry captures her wrist within his cool hand.

Keeping his canopy green eyes locked with hers, the creature slips her thumb into his mouth, licking the remnants of the bite off the digit with his slick tongue. His boot continues its climb up her leg, just barely reaching her thigh again before traveling back down to plant itself firmly onto the floor of the restaurant.

A quiet gasp leaves Y/N’s mouth as Harry lulls his tongue around her thumb one last time, and the barely audible sound raises his strawberry lips into a hint of a grin as he extracts the finger from his mouth. With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, Harry brings her open palm forward and plants a delicate kiss to the center of her hand.

“That’s quite good.” Harry finally says nonchalantly, attentively setting Y/N’s hand back down on the table and releasing her wrist from his grasp. “I’ll have to try it the next time we come.”

Y/N struggles to regulate her breathing as she retracts her hand from the table, setting it down in her lap as her fingers involuntarily clench into her heated thigh. “Um, yeah.” She wisps, clearing her throat once as she reaches for a slice of garlic bread. “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s really good. The sauce is— it has a nice balance to it, I think, with the thyme…”

“I agree.” Harry wipes his wet finger off on the napkin laying over his thigh. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you, pet?”

“You would know.” Y/N huffs snidely, cheeks blazing as she reaches for her wine again to extract a heavy gulp of the liquor.

In the moments of silence that fall between them, Y/N allows herself to canvas the restaurant, observing the interactions of those around her. True to Vincenzo’s promise of a private spot, the couples nearest to them are all at least five tables away, and partially hidden from view because of the positioning of their corner booth. However, Y/N’s sharp eyes don’t miss how every formally-dressed staff member, from servers to busboys and hosts, cast their eyes in Harry’s direction each time they pass by. Some even whisper to their coworkers as they turn the corner, their gazes always lingering on Harry with a mix of awe and wonder.

“Have you noticed how all the staff here watch you?” Y/N asks as she catches the eye of a passing waitress, who offers her a tense smile before sliding her stare towards Harry.

“Do they?” Harry replies curiously, raising his wine glass to his lips as he lightly shrugs. “I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

“I think Vincenzo’s given them all the update on the prestigious British bachelor, Harry Styles.” Y/N pokes fun, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully as she contemplates Harry with an observant eye. “Or maybe they’ve all just noticed the ridiculous amount of designer labels you insist on wearing.” She teases him with a playful grin, tapping a finger against the Gucci cufflinks on his sleeves. “I feel a bit like a celebrity.”

A modest laugh breaks past Harry’s lips as he lowers the glass, keeping his ringed fingers twisted around the stem. “In my experience, I’ve found you’re treated best when you treat the staff best. I tip well, so I receive better service. When I receive better service, I tip more. It’s a bit of a cycle, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically, the tip of his boot once again exploring the soft skin of Y/N’s bare leg. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I thought I’d test the waters tonight and see how well you like the high life before I arrange anything more… extravagant.”

“More extravagant?” Y/N laughs at the idea, propping her elbow on the table and plopping her chin in her hand as her eyebrows raise. “What could possibly be more extravagant than a Gucci cocktail dress, Loubotin heels, and a fifty dollar pasta dish?”

The answer rolls off Harry’s tongue immediately, slathered in a jesting, matter-of-fact tone. “A trip to the Bahamas, obviously.”

Although Y/N’s eyes widen slightly at the comment, it’s not long before she giggles softly, the wine beginning to twist its way through her system. Harry can smell the way her lavender and honey scent is intertwined with the dark, fruity notes of the liquor, but even if he couldn’t, it would be obvious in the way she draws towards him with a tender smile on her face. Despite the dewy appearance of her skin amidst the lulled candlelight, it’s the genuine warmth behind Y/N’s eyes that makes Harry feel like her gaze could thaw the ice from his long-frozen limbs.

It’s that warmth that brings Harry to reach over the table after Luca has cleared their bare plates and refilled their glasses, dragging his hands across the linen tablecloth with his palms turned upwards. He just can’t ever seem to stifle the need to touch her.

The motion is a quiet question in itself, and Y/N gives the desired answer when she fills his empty grasp with her own palms, automatically tangling her bare fingers with Harry’s jeweled digits. For a moment, Harry just sits there, thumbing over her fragile knuckles in the way he’s grown so accustomed to doing, basking in the heat that congregates in his chest and gives him the feeling that he’s glowing. He almost hates to break the perfect silence between them, which is so understanding, but he’s been thinking about his words too carefully to swallow them back.

“Thank you for agreeing to let me take you out.” He says, his voice gentle and low, a far cry from his usual cocky drawl. “It’s…It’s been a really long time since I’ve done something like this with anyone, let alone had this much fun doing it.” He takes a quiet breath through barely parted lips. “It’s nice.”

His ears prick with the sound of Y/N’s hummingbird heartbeat thrumming in her chest, the pattern bringing an ache to his tummy in an entirely new way, but the ache is quickly soothed by the soft smile that adorns her crimson lips.

“It’s…It’s been a while for me, as well. Which you know.” She laughs airily, but is too entranced by the vivid color of Harry’s eyes to tear her gaze away. “I’m having fun, too. I’m glad— I mean—”

Harry continues to rub over her knuckles patiently, keeping his touch as gentle as she is, making sure to gift her an instance to collect her thoughts.

“I’ll admit, I was… worried at first. When we started to go on actual dates.” The mortal takes a deep breath through her nose, but it hardly calms her down as she inhales the vanilla and tobacco scent of Harry’s cologne. “We were doing so well with just sex, y’know? And I was worried that adding more would… ruin it.”

The faint grin playing on the edge of Harry’s mouth disappears, and a chill runs through his bones at the possibility of what they have dismantling at the seams. “But it hasn’t… Has it?”

The seconds Harry spends waiting for an answer is agony, but the relief is instantaneous when Y/N replies in a bashful voice. “No.” She whispers, her gaze faltering down to her lap before raising back to him. “It hasn’t.”

“I feel like…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, nearly forgetting to be mindful of his strength so as to not break his skin. “I feel like it’s made things better, even. Like… like we work better together, yeah?” He clears his throat gingerly as nerves begin to dip into his dormant veins. He knows he’s treading on dangerously thin ice, and he’s never been more at risk of plunging into the freezing depths below, but he can’t make himself return to shore. Not now. “Not that we weren’t working well before, because we were. We were working really well— incredibly well. But I just feel like tacking on this little bit of extra stuff makes everything more fulfilling.”

A wry smile breaks across Y/N’s face. “Right, because who doesn’t love getting wined and dined before getting their back done in?” She jokes easily, and Harry snorts in spite of himself, grateful for how she always manages to save him from making an ass of himself.

“I just really like spending time with you, I guess.” He squeezes her hands within his own before the sincere moment disappears. “It feels natural. Really natural.”

“It does. And while we’re confessing our innermost confessions over garlic bread…” The mortal purses her lips as a sparkle appears in her eyes, glinting at Harry like the North Star. “I want you to know how grateful I am for what we have. I was feeling really lonely and out of place when we met, and running into you…” Y/N hesitates for a fraction of a instant, just long enough for Harry’s own breathing to catch. “It really helped me get back on my feet. It’s just nice to have someone who I mesh with so well, especially after such a big move and everything, so…” A new wave of heat works its way over the apples of her cheeks. “I suppose this is a bit of a ‘thank you’. Thanks for coming up to me that night at the club.”

Harry’s lips quirk at the corners as the tender confession settles into his chest. “Thank you for letting me chat you up. It was a two way street, love. Although—” His signature smirk begins to make a reappearance. “It’s not like I had to try very hard— you practically drooled the second you laid your eyes on me.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open indignantly as she yanks her hands back from his, rolling her eyes heavily while smoothing the hem of her dress. “Alright, that’s enough. Moment over, dickhead. Go back to sipping your wine and looking hot in your suit in silence.”

Although Harry obeys her order and picks up his wine glass with nimble fingers, his eyes grow teasingly large over the rim, accent dripping with faux shock. “You think I’m hot?”

“I’d hope you know that,” Y/N says cooly as she grasps the stem of her own glass. “I don’t let just anyone choke me.”

It’s Harry’s turn to cough on his liquor as he registers the comment, and he struggles not to spill the dark liquid down the front of his brand new suit as he barks out a laugh.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” he says after he swallows the drink, setting his glass back down on the table firmly. “I don’t let just anyone use my jacuzzi whenever they want.”

“Right, right, because you allowing me to use your hot tub is equivalent to me letting you wrap your fingers around my throat.” Y/N snorts, drumming her digits against the table top. “Practically identical.”

Harry snakes his hand across the table and cards their grips once more, squeezing her fingers playfully as he taps against her knuckles. “It’s not like you complain while it’s happening.”

“Only because it’s hard to talk when my air flow is restricted.”

“Really? Because you still manage to moan just fine.”

Harry delights in the way her eyes hurriedly dash to the other diners, her heartbeat stuttering in her heaving chest. He likes that he can still get a rise out of her with his crude jokes, even after all he’s said to her.

“Christ, Harry, lower your voice! Don’t let anyone hear you!” Y/N protests, cupping a hand over her sizzling cheek.

“No one can hear me, love.” He chuckles lightly as he reassures her with another squeeze of her fingers. “S’why I always request a private table.”

“Oh, so you have a pattern, then?” She quirks an eyebrow at the comment. “Do you bring women here that often to discuss choking? So much that you need a private table?”

Although there’s a mocking air to her words, Harry’s laugh cuts off. “No. I don’t.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat as she raises her wine glass to her lips. “I don’t believe you. I think I’ll ask Vinzenco on our way out. He seems like an honest man.”

Cool relief flushes through Harry’s body, but he hides it behind an incredulous gasp. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re interested in him. Do you want Vincenzo to choke you instead?” His face breaks into a look of exaggerated disbelief tinged with fake disgust. “He’s married, you tramp!”

Y/N can’t help but laugh when Harry yanks his hand away from hers, pretending to wipe it on his napkin while gagging, as if touching her is a horrendous act.

“I hate you.” She giggles, shaking her head slowly.

“I promise you that no matter how much you hate me, Vincenzo’s wife would hate you tenfold.” Harry shakes out his hand before setting it back down on the table.

“Don’t worry.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the exaggeration. “I don’t plan on breaking up a marriage tonight.”

“How gracious of you.” Harry murmurs, but he leans forward with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shamelessly canvasses Y/N’s body. “You could, you know. Vincenzo is only a man. Look how you had Poor Luca drooling tonight. You in that dress…” He settles his eyes on her prominent cleavage. “Y’look like Aphrodite, almost.”

Despite the heat that flashes over Y/N’s entire body, she keeps her voice dry when she responds. “I don’t know about that; this isn’t much of a grecian look.”

“Well…” A grin creeps onto Harry’s face, igniting his jade irises with humour. “You look like Aphrodite if Aphrodite was a twenty-first century sugar baby.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open before she spits out an indignant reply. “I’m not a sugar baby!”

“Sorry, who bought you that dress?”

“That doesn’t count—”

“And who do you call ‘daddy’?”

Harry can hear the way blood rushes to her cheeks, and it sends a delicious shiver down his spine.

Y/N, however, glares up at him through her thick lashes, her hands twisting the cloth napkin in her lap. “You’re a prick.”

“I’m simply stating facts, darling.” Harry sighs lightly, ducking one of his hands underneath the table and reaching to give her bare knee a squeeze. He revels in the way she jumps at his touch. “And I’ve got videos of you whimpering that over and over to prove it.”

“If you keep this up,” Y/N says, forcing her voice to stay steady as she nods to his grasp on her skin. “You won’t be getting any more of them.”

“Is that so?” Harry’s hand travels further up her leg, the metal of his rings icy against the heated flesh of her inner thighs. “Guess you won’t be getting any more videos of me playing with myself either, then. Fair’s fair.”

The whimper that falls from Y/N’s lips is so quiet that if Harry were human, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it. “Harry—”

“You don’t like that, do you?” He taunts lowly, continuing to rub over her thigh as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “The idea of me taking that away? Of never seeing me lose myself for you on video ever again?”

Y/N clears her throat thickly. “N-No.”

“I didn’t think so.” With his free hand, Harry lifts his wine to his lips, taking a long sip as his darkened eyes stay locked to hers. “So you’d better behave for me then, hm?”

Despite the electrifying way her entire body is starting to fizzle, Y/N still manages to choke out an amused scoff. “You’re starting to sound like a cheap porno, H. Be careful.”

“Careful? You want to be careful?” Harry asks, eyebrows poised as he digs his fingertips into the meaty flesh of her thigh. “Alright.”

In one fast motion, Harry snakes his hand completely up Y/N’s dress to cup over her lace-covered cunt, running the pads of his fingers over the dampening cloth. He hooks one finger into the side of the lace and gives a sharp yank, and although Y/N’s not sure how he does it, or how Harry attained the sudden rush of strength needed to do so, she feels the delicate fabric rip right down the center.

Before she can even process what’s happened, the act is over as quickly as it started as Harry settles back into his seat, eyebrows cocked in a conceited fashion as he watches her assess the new issue.

“You’ll have to be careful now, won’t you, minx? Gonna have t’keep your legs closed like a proper good girl— which I know is hard for you whenever I’m around.” He teases, his hand still clenched under the table as the other raises his glass to his strawberry lips. “Otherwise we might have a little mishap, hm?”

Y/N’s breath stutters in her pounding chest as she clenches her thighs as tight as she can. “You didn’t.”

Raising his hand from beneath the table, Harry opens his palm for just a moment, flashing her the scrap of black lace that had once been her panties before coasting his hand beneath his jacket and tucking the article into his pocket. “Didn't I?”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, her voice dangerously low as she leans over the table.

“Yes?” He replies innocently, wrapping his hand firmly around his glass. “Something the matter?”

Y/N gapes at the man across from her in disbelief. “You’re such a dick, you know that?”

“I promise you, I’m well aware.” Harry laughs lightly as he polishes off the last of his wine. “But it’s not like you don’t like it. You wouldn’t bounce on my cock if you didn’t.”

Sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth, Y/N clenches the tight satin of her dress in her fists. “God, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Yeah?” Harry quirks an eyebrow with a cocky smirk. “Good luck trying to catch me without flashing your entire arse to the kitchen staff.”

“I swear on my life, I’m going to rip off your—”

“Ciao, Harry! Bella donna!” Vincenzo’s voice cuts over Y/N’s thinly-veiled threat as he approaches the table with arms wide and a smile pasted onto his face. “Come trovi tutto? Possiamo portarti dell'altro vino? La carta dei dolci?” How are you finding everything? Can we get you more wine? The dessert menu?

“È tutto delizioso, Vincenzo, grazie.” Everything is delicious, Vincenzo, thank you. Harry drawls, his grin growing as he turns to Y/N with a condescending tilt of his head. “What do you think, tesoro? Are you in the mood for dessert? Or have you had enough?”

Y/N’s mouth is too dry for her to answer, especially with the way Harry’s irises twinkle suggestively at his own words, so she finishes the last dregs of her wine before shaking her head tightly. “No— no dessert for me, thanks.”

Vincenzo heaves a dramatic gasp as he turns his full attention to her. “Bella donna, what is this? Surely you want to try our dessert? Even just some homemade gelato?”

“Oh, no, Vincenzo, thank you, but I don’t think I could squeeze any more food into my stomach.” Y/N fights to keep herself from sounding flustered, but she knows it’s a losing battle when she hears Harry mutter something about how wonderful she is at squeezing under his breath.

Vincenzo clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, twisting his astonished gaze back to Harry. “Harry, per favore, sicuramente puoi convincere il tuo appuntamento a mangiare un boccone di dessert? È sulla casa.” Harry, please, surely you can convince your date to have a bite of dessert? It’s on the house.

The vampire presses his tongue into his cheek as he appraises Y/N again, the clenching of her abdomen drawing his eye more than anything else. Harry uses the tip of his boot to once again trail up the back of her calf beneath the tablecloth, giving her a wicked grin. “You’re sure you don’t want anything else, tesoro?”

Y/N jerks her head once more as a shadow crosses over her eyes. “No, thank you.” She reiterates in a strained voice.

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Harry twists to face Vincenzo again, voice surrendered. “Grazie per l'offerta, Vincenzo, ma sembra che stiamo bene. Accettiamo solo il conto, per favore.” Thank you for the offer, Vincenzo, but it looks like we’re fine. We’ll just take the check, please.

The restaurant owner sighs in disappointment, but nods in acceptance. “Va bene, va bene, solo l'assegno. Ma la prossima volta che torni, mi amore,” Vincenzo shifts his attention back to Y/N, who meets his smile as best as she can. “Dovrai provare due dolci per compensare la mancanza di uno stasera, vero?�� Okay, okay, just the check. But next time you come back, my love, you’ll have to try two desserts to make up for the lack of one tonight, yes?

Harry leans across the table and whispers the translation low in her ear, his cool breath sending a shiver down her spine as it rolls over her body.

“Yes, Vincenzo. Next time.” Y/N promises quickly, clasping her hands tightly around the hem of her tight dress as the thigh slit begins to ride up.

Vincenzo motions over his shoulder for Luca to bring the check, chatting happily to Harry in Italian throughout the whole transaction. Y/N stays quiet the entire time, instinctively hiding her boiling cheeks behind her hands each time one of them casts a glance her way. Despite the nerves wreaking havoc in her belly, Harry continues to make casual conversation as he swipes his credit card, laughing and joking with Vincenzo like he has all the time in the world. By the time the restaurant owner bids them both goodbye, Y/N’s certain she’s sweated well through the thin fabric of her dress from her nerves.

Harry, however, looks perfectly at ease as he tucks his wallet back into his suit jacket. “You handled that well, doll. ‘M proud of you.” He says easily, rubbing a finger down the condensation dotting his glass of ice water.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Y/N hisses at him, clenching her thighs together as another waiter passes dangerously close to their table. “How am I supposed to walk out of here without anyone noticing?”

“Like this.” Harry rises from the table and extends a hand to Y/N, who eyes it warily from her seated position. “C’mon, love, you’re going to have to trust me.” He goads her with a sigh, wiggling his fingers until Y/N gives in and settles her palm inside his.

Making sure his own body is hiding Y/N from the line of sight of anyone else, Harry helps pull his lover from her chair before removing his jacket with one swift motion. He settles the rich grey fabric over her bare shoulders, draping the article in such a way that it covers the deep thigh slit that exposes her bare skin.

“How’s that?” Harry asks lowly, voice tender as he fixes the collar of the jacket around Y/N’s delicate neck. “S’that better?”

The moment Harry’s familiar and intoxicating cologne fills her senses, all the irritation evaporates from Y/N’s veins, leaving behind only the quiet thrum of attraction that’s intensified by the man’s fragrance.

“Yeah.” She whispers, the cadence of her voice nearing shyness as Harry tugs a lock of hair from underneath the collar of the jacket. “It’s a bit better.”

“Good.” The vampire leans down and stamps his lips to the girl’s forehead, letting his mouth linger for a few seconds before straightening up. “I promise I won’t let anyone see anything. And even if someone does see something, as long as you’re with me, nobody will say a word.”

Y/N nods gently as Harry grasps her hand in his own to lead her out of the restaurant and back to his car. “Alright. I trust you.”

That warmth from earlier begins to spread through Harry’s chest again the moment she utters the words. “I’m glad to hear that.” He snakes his hand inside the jacket, brushing his fingertips against her breast before dipping his hand into the pocket. When he withdraws it, the lace of her ripped panties is visible for only a moment before he tucks it into the back of his slacks with a smirk. “These are mine now. A little spoil of war for my trophy case.”

Despite his protective stance around her as he begins to weave the two of them through tables, Y/N scoffs at the action. “I still can’t believe you did that, you asshole.”

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” Harry glances over his shoulder as he quirks an eyebrow teasingly. “Alright, then. I can just drop you back off at your apartment, if you’d like. Go back to my place alone tonight. Gonna have to unbutton my trousers on my own, and peel this nice shirt off by myself, and crawl in between my sheets rather than in between your thighs. Such a shame.”

Y/N can’t stop the whine that echoes the back of her throat. “No, H—”

“That’s what I thought.” Harry steps back from her just enough to tug open the glass front door of the restaurant, his eyes already settling on the valet. When he speaks, however, it’s just for her to hear, and her alone. It sends a current of anticipation through her veins as it washes across the shell of her ear, his breath smelling of sweet grapes and notes of cherry from their wine, thick with the tangy scent of liquor and cooler than usual from the chilled beverage. Despite that coldness, his next promise settles into her exposed core with a familiar heat that she knows only he can resolve.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet. It’s gonna be a long night.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #vampire!harry #vampire!harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #vampire au #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #one direction fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #ysijwa #writing

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

All Mine

Angel Reyes x Reader

Request by Anon: If you are taking them, I have a request! The reader and EZ are best friends and she is close to Angel who secretly loves her. But once EZ joins the MC and the reader hangs around more, Angel gets jealous of EZ because she is hanging out with him, not knowing the reader is in love with Angel. Angel becomes distant from her but she stops by his place to talk to him because she misses him and so much possessive smut, bruises, hickeys 🥵 I love your writing and wanted to request ❤️

Warnings: language, angst, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of bodily fluids (male + female), unprotected sex

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I was just thinking that I need to write something for Angel soon and this request was perfect for that so thank you. Got some backstory and buildup to really get the angsty vibes going before we get to the smut. As someone who is a big fan of hickeys and the like this request really spoke to me lmao. Hope you guys enjoy!! xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @amandinesblogofstuff @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae (If you want to be tagged in any of my writing don’t hesitate to let me know, I’ll add you to the list!)

If there was anything that could be said about being friends with the Reyes brothers, it was that it was never boring. You’d all been friends for a long time, having gone through life together from high school on. You and EZ had been in the same grade and became best friends almost instantly, and it was difficult to be friends with EZ without also being roped into a friendship with his brother, too. Not that you minded—the three of you always managed to have a good time together.

And the friendship you had formed with Angel was pivotal when EZ was shipped off to Stockton. Never boring didn’t always mean fun. But the two of you kept each other sane throughout the whole ordeal. You’d always gotten along well, but in those years that EZ was away you and Angel really fell into a flow with each other. You were practically living over at his place. The couch always had blankets and pillows on it for you just in case you stopped in and stayed the night, which happened more and more frequently as time went on, especially on nights after you took the time to go visit EZ. You wondered why Angel didn’t go as often, but you knew better than to pull at those strings. Even though you knew a lot about the Reyes brothers and their family, you were also aware that there were a lot of things that you weren’t privy to, and you respected that.

You’d gotten good at patching Angel up, physically and emotionally. Whether he was coming home busted up from whatever was happening with the club, or you came over to find him a drunken emotional mess because of what life had put him through, you had slowly but surely figured out how to help him through it. Your first-aid skills improved a lot in the years that EZ was away.

And, somewhere along the way, you’d fallen in love with Angel in the mess of it all. There wasn’t an exact moment where you could pinpoint that it happened. But spending all that time together, getting each other through the rough patches and celebrating together in the good times, really carved out a space in your heart that was reserved just for Angel Reyes. You kept that to yourself, though. You knew that if he felt the same way at all, he would’ve said something or made a move of some kind. It stung sometimes, but you knew that having him in your life as a best friend was preferable to not having him at all.

“He’s coming home next week,” he said, trying to ignore the pain of you cleaning out a cut he’d gotten above his eyebrow.

You nodded, trying to keep your excitement levels down, “I know,” you leaned back to get a better look at his whole face, “How are you feeling about that?”

He nodded, “’S better than him staying in fuckin’ prison.”

You chuckled, “That’s true,” you paused, knowing that there was a lot more going through his mind about it, “You talk to the club about everything?”

He cringed as you swabbed the gash with medical alcohol, “Yea.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

He sighed, shaking his head slightly, “You fuckin’ know,” he let you cup his chin to hold his head still as you pressed a bandage onto his cut, “He’s meant for more than this shit. I don’t get why he wants to come back to Santo Padre at all, let alone get tied down with the fuckin’ club.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly, “It seems to work well for you.”

He finally looked you in the eyes, “Don’t say that like EZ and I are capable of the same things, querida. You’re smarter than that.”

You sighed, leaning back and resting your hands in your lap, “Your cut should be fine. If it starts oozing anything you can sue me for malpractice,” you let the EZ topic drop, knowing it was a bit of an exposed nerve and probably would be for some time.

He chuckled, “Thanks. I’ll have my people get in touch with your people,” he stood up, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head before heading to the kitchen to pull something together for dinner.

The days dragged on as you waited for EZ to come home. Once there was a definitive end-date to his stint in Stockton, time seemed to move slower. You’d been spending more time around the clubhouse in general, but you knew that if both Angel and EZ were going to get involved with the club, you were going to need to get comfortable with all of it. You knew that you weren’t going to get to be in the know about everything, but you didn’t want to be a stranger either, or just “that girl who is always hanging out with the Reyes brothers”. The guys really didn’t seem to mind. You all got along well enough, and having the endorsement of being a close friend of Angel’s certainly didn’t hurt. It was a relief, and you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to know that you had a team of backup if something ever got that bad. Angel would go to the end of the earth for you, but having a small army never hurt.

You’d been cautiously optimistic about what life was going to be like when EZ was back home again. You loved him and you missed him, but you knew that he wasn’t going to be the same exact person coming back that he was when he went away. No one comes out after that much time the same. But in all of your visits, you could feel that he was still EZ in all the ways that mattered. He was just going to need time to adjust, to figure things out, to get his feet back underneath him. And that was exactly what you were there for.

He fell into things rather easily with the club. You knew that Angel was still conflicted about it, but there was no going back on it now. EZ was officially a prospect and Angel was officially his sponsor. No amount of deep sighs and eye rolls was going to undo that. The club was accepting of him, but they were still vetting him thoroughly. You couldn’t necessarily blame them, but you knew who EZ was and it made you a little biased.

EZ was open with you about what he was going through, and you were glad that the two of you hadn’t lost that over the years. He needed some consistency, some kind of anchor in the midst of all of the chaos, which was a role that you were more than happy to fill.

Late nights at Angel’s apartment started to give way to late nights at EZ’s trailer. You still saw the both of them a lot, one of the benefits of hanging out at the clubhouse whenever you could. But you knew that EZ needed some extra one-one-one time and you weren’t going to rob him of that because you had gone and let yourself fall in love with his brother.

You figured that Angel would be glad that EZ had someone in his corner. You knew that things were a little tense between them sometimes because of the club and you didn’t have any of that baggage to carry. You assumed that Angel would be happy to know that his little brother was being cared for by someone who really knew him and gave a shit about him. But it didn’t really feel that way.

EZ was on the opposite side of the bar from you, stacking the last few cases of beer that had gotten delivered that day. The two of you were laughing as you told him about some of the stupidity that was going on at your job. The laughter was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both turned to see Angel standing there, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Pres needs you in Templo for a few minutes, Prospect.”

EZ nodded, wiping his hands off on his jeans, “Alright,” he walked around to the other side of the bar, giving your shoulder a nudge as he walked past you, “Don’t let anyone rob the joint while I’m in there.”

You laughed and shoved him towards the sliding glass door, “Hope they’re not kicking you out.” Despite the fact that EZ was making his way to the room, Angel lingered back for a moment. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to say something to you, “All good?”

He shrugged, nodding, “All good,” the expression on his face said otherwise but you didn’t get to push it as he turned and walked away, shutting the door behind him.

You were still there when the meeting was over, not that it took very long. Everyone dispersed in their own directions. Angel flagged his brother down, saying something quietly into his ear, eyes only darting over to you for a moment before he clapped EZ on the back and walked out of the clubhouse without coming over to say anything to you. EZ walked over, unaware of everything you were noticing and feeling.

He plopped down on the stool next to you, “Movie night?”

You nodded, smiling, “Absolutely.”

About halfway through the movie your mind was somewhere else entirely. Before you were able to censor yourself, you blurted out, “Is Angel mad at me?”

EZ looked over at you, clearly confused. He paused the movie, “Mad at you?”

You nodded, “Yea. He’s barely been talking to me the past couple of weeks and when he does it just feels…different.”

EZ shrugged, “If he is, he hasn’t said anything to me. I doubt it’s that, though. He’s been stressed with all the shit going on with the club lately. He might just accidentally be taking it out on you.”

You gnawed at the inside of your lip, wanting to believe him but not quite sure that you did, “Yea, probably.”

The next few days went by and it was more of the same. You felt like you were trying to drag a conversation out of Angel and he was coming up with excuse after excuse to dodge you. You tried not to let it get to you, but it was difficult. After everything, he was icing you out. And even despite that, your heart still sped up every time you saw him, hoping that he would walk over and things would go back to how they’d been for the last few years.

So you found yourself outside the door to Angel’s house. You knocked on the door for the first time in years—you never used to feel like you had to. But now everything felt off and you didn’t feel quite as welcome as you did before.

A few moments later you heard a scuffling from the other side of the door before it opened. Angel was in his jeans and a tank top, hair a mess, and your heart skipped a couple beats in your chest. You cleared your throat, “Can I come in?”

He nodded but didn’t say anything as he moved to the side so you could walk inside. You toed off your shoes and part of you wanted to plop down on the couch the same way you had so many times before, but you fought the urge. You did notice, though, that there was still the small pile of blankets and pillows taking up one end of the couch. It gave you a small sliver of hope.

“What’s going on?” Angel asked, standing in front of you in the middle of his living room.

“I just came over to talk…to see how you’re doing.”

“Oh?” he scoffed, shaking his head, “No pressing plans with Boy Scout tonight?”

“What’s your fucking problem?” your words were angry but the look in your eyes was anything but—everything just hurt.

“You just use me to pass the time till he got back out?” he looked like he was on the brink of tears, “Just come over here to fill the Reyes void until the Golden Boy was back?”

“Angel, what are you talking about?”

“You! Us!” he snapped. The word us hit you like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t force out any words, so Angel continued, “You spend all this time comin’ over here, making me think that you actually give a shit about me, makin’ me fa—” he stopped himself, shaking his head, “Then you just fucking drop me. It’s like I don’t even exist anymore.”

“Angel,” there was a slight tremor to your voice, “your brother just got out of prison. Figured he might need a little extra support for a while. Why is that putting such a bug up your ass?” you saw him go to say something but you held your hand up to stop him, “And just so we’re painting the full fucking picture here—you’ve been dodging me. Every time I try to talk to you, you suddenly have something else to do, somewhere else to be. This is the first real conversation we’ve had in weeks and it’s only happening because I came banging on your fucking door,” you wiped away tears that you hadn’t even felt before that moment, “Sorry you haven’t gotten my undivided attention, but that’s just life sometimes, Angel. And, fuck,” you shook your head, “even though you’ve been acting like a real dick lately, I’ve still missed you.”

“I’m so fucking sick of coming in second place, Y/N.”

You stepped to him, looking up at him, “You’re not in second place. There are no places. That’s all up here,” you reached up and pressed the pad of your finger to his temple.

He gently placed his hand over yours, completely enveloping it, “I can’t handle you getting sick of me, forgetting about me,” his eyes met yours, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

You felt a lump forming in the back of your throat, “Then why are you shutting me out?”

He shook his head slightly, hand still clasping yours, “Easier leaving than getting left.”

“I was never leaving you, Angel,” your voice was barely a whisper, “And I’m not going to.”

He closed his eyes, leaning down so his forehead against yours. He took a deep, unsteady breath, “I think I’ve been falling in love with you.”

You smiled, bringing your other hand up so you were cupping both sides of his face as you pulled back a little, “You’ve got a really shitty way of showing it.”

He laughed, shaking his head before pressing a kiss against your palm, “Will you let me show it in a better way?”

Your heart was pounding inside your chest as you nodded. He instantly pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours. One hand fell to the small of your back while the other rested on the back of your neck, keeping you as close to him as he could. Your knees felt weak as you melted into him.

He pressed the tips of his fingers harder into the back of your neck and you could feel the neediness seeping from his body into yours. You draped your arms over his shoulders, getting lost in the feeling of the way his lips moved in-sync with yours. A soft moan slipped out as he bit down on your lip.

He pulled his lips away from yours, letting you both catch your breath. He still had you wrapped up in his arms and you smiled, placing a gentle kiss on his jawline, “I think I’ve been falling in love with you too.”

With a quiet laugh he scooped you up off the floor, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. With what seemed like no effort at all, he whisked you down the hall to his bedroom. You laughed as he let you drop a few inches from his arms onto the mattress, a smile on his face as he situated himself between your legs, hovering over your torso with his lips hardly an inch from yours.

“You mean it?” you asked in a whisper as you reached up and pushed his hair back out of his face.

“Mean what?”

“That you’ve been falling in love with me.”

He nodded, his voice as soft as yours, “Every word,” he leaned down and kissed your temple before bringing his lips right next to your ear, “I just wanna make you mine.”

Your body trembled at the sound of his words. You let your eyes drift shut as what he said washed over you. “Do it,” your voice was hardly audible, “Make me yours.”

You felt him hum in approval, the vibrations against your neck sending a chill through your body. He attached his lips to yours, cupping one side of your face in his hand. You hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you, and you felt him smile into your kiss. He pressed his lips hard against yours for a moment before he slid them down to your neck. His hands slid down your sides, resting on your hips as he bit down onto your neck. You moaned as he sucked on the sensitive skin there. He brought his lips to the other side of your neck to do the same thing as he pushed your hips down to the bed, effectively unhooking your legs as his hands started to undo the button and zipper of your jeans.

He pulled your jeans down, tossing them off to the side before hopping off the bed just long enough to undo his belt and push his jeans down to the floor. Once the denim pooled at his ankles he stepped out of them and was right back on top of you again, pulling your shirt off over your head as you reached and did the same to him.

He kissed you as his hands roamed all over your body, touching every exposed inch, every single curve. His tongue met yours as he gripped tight onto your hips. You moaned as he began to grind against you. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head as he pulled out of your kiss, sucking lightly on your bottom lip as he did.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he kissed you lightly on the lips as his fingers looped around the waistband of your underwear, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He left a long trail of kisses and love-bites down your chest, stomach, and thighs. He draped your legs over his shoulders and you let out a shaky breath as he grazed his teeth along the inside of your thigh, biting down ever-so lightly before moving his lips between your legs. A moan fell from your lips the second he pressed his mouth against you, your hands instantly tangling themselves in his hair. You felt the vibrations against you as he chuckled at how quickly you became so needy. Every single thing he did felt perfect. The sound of you moaning his name filled the house as his tongue continued to explore every part of you.

He pulled his lips away from you and you whimpered at the loss of contact. He smiled up at you as he slowly slid his fingers into you, turning your whimper into a moan. Your hands dropped down to his shoulders, nails setting into his skin as you cursed under your breath. He kept his eyes on you as he slowly began to pump his fingers in and out of you, reveling in the fact that he was the one marking you up and putting that look of pure bliss onto your face.

You arched your back slightly when you felt him bite down onto your thigh, “Fuck, Angel, don’t stop.”

His voice was raspy, “You gonna cum for me, querida?”

“Y-yes,” you almost didn’t get the word out as you felt his mouth begin to work along with his fingers. Your legs tightened around his head, thighs clenching as you got closer to your orgasm, “Fuck, Angel,” you cried as you came.

He slid up to you, a satisfied smirk on his face. Your fingers trailed through his beard, feeling your wetness as he leaned in to kiss you. You could taste yourself off of his lips and tongue and you were about to get lost in that sensation alone until you felt him pressing against your entrance. You rested your hands on his hips and pulled him closer to you, both of you moaning as he slowly slid into you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, soaking up how he felt inside you.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispered as he slowly started to move his hips, “You’re so perfect for me.”

You knew there was no way to be closer to him than you were, but you wished that there was. You wrapped your legs around him again and cupped his face so you could kiss him as he thrust into you. He braced his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in as he leaned into you. you slid your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him down against you as you sank your teeth into the skin where his neck met his shoulder.

You heard him curse and you smiled as you placed a kiss on top of the bitemark, “You’re mine now, too, Angel.”

He pulled away from you so he could look you in the eyes, “Say that again.”

You gently traced the pad of your thumb along his bottom lip, “You’re mine, Angel Reyes.”

His lips crashed into yours as he picked up his speed. He couldn’t get enough of you, hands grabbing at whatever they could to try and keep you closer to him. You felt his rhythm start to falter—he gripped tightly onto your hips as he thrust hard into you a few more times before quickly pulling out of you before he came.

He collapsed onto your chest with a sigh. You let out a tired laugh as you lazily trailed your fingers through his hair, both of you attempting to catch your breath and get your hearts down to a reasonable speed. You could feel the reverberations of his chest against yours and in that moment you were sure that there no better feeling in the world. His fingers lightly traced over your skin and all you could think about was the fact that his touch felt like home. You let your eyes drift shut for a few moments as he peppered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses.

He shifted so he was laying on his side next to you, staring at you with a starry look in his eyes. You smiled over at him, rolling onto your side as well, “What’re you thinking?”

He smiled, kissing you gently on the lips, “That I love you.”

You felt your face get hot as you touched your forehead to his, “Yea? Good. ‘Cause I love you too.”

He laughed as he rolled and pulled you with him so that you were laying on top of him, your chest pressed against his, “No going back on that now, you know.”

You let your fingers dance down the side of his face, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes smut #angel reyes angst #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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rachelsteapot · 3 years

Note

Hiiii I saw you would like to write about Arthur Shelby!! That’s great cause there aren’t many stories about him. Could you please write one where he gets jealous or possessive? Please and thank you

OMG YES! One jealous and posessive Arthur coming right up!

Disclaimer: I really do not know how good this is, I wrote it in like one sitting so any constructive critcism is apprecated :)

Warnings: Sexual harrassment, Fighting, blood if you squint.

Tags: @theshelbyclan

I Promise (Jealous!Arthur x Fem!Reader)

From the first time he set eyes on you, Arthur Shelby knew that you were going to be his, and there was no room for anyone else. At first, his brothers thought he was sick; he was so far from his normal demeanour that sickness must have been the cause. It was most unlike the eldest Shelby brother to not hire a whore when they went into town, and god forbid he stopped playing in the snow. Then, his brothers realised the root of this change in his behaviour.

You were the newest addition to the Shelby assistants. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, you were always ready and willing to dive headfirst into a stack of invoices, or sit and steadily decipher one of the brother's chicken scratch handwriting. Tommy had hired you specifically to work with Arthur due to his struggles with most, if not all, literary ventures. Especially the numerical kind.

You had been warned by Tommy that Arthur could be difficult to say the least. According to your boss, he was prone to fits of rage, often came across as rude, and liked to snort cocaine. However, this was a side of Arthur that you never saw. Tommy put it down to your voice, perhaps thinking that the way you spoke reminded Arthur of their mother, but you weren’t so sure. Sometimes you noticed Arthur watching you when he didn't think you were looking. There was something else in his eyes, beyond the sadness, there was love. You weren’t sure, but didn’t exactly intend to ask about it. Sometimes, when you were helping Arthur with his numbers, he would sit you on his lap and have you check his maths as he worked. He was slowly improving, and you were sure that he knew, but more and more often he would seemingly make deliberate mistakes so you had to come and help him.

Throughout your time together, you had grown close to Arthur and he to you, perhaps a bit closer than a boss and his assistant should have been. But what mattered was that Arthur’s work was improving, and you were doing your share of the paperwork.

Recently however, you had noticed Arthur daydreaming when you worked with him. While you were explaining maths, his eyes would drift away, and he wouldn't seem to hear what you were saying. During these periods, the mistakes he made were genuine, causing him to get frustrated more and more often.

The only thing left to do was ask him what was wrong.

It was a warm Thursday afternoon when you noticed Arthur drifting in and out of thought. You were sitting at your desk, reading through a stack of invoices, while he sat at his, reading some memo from Tommy. A heavy sigh interrupted your train of thought and you looked up to see Arthur cradling his head in his hands. You stood, kicking your shoes off before slowly padding over to his desk.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you leaned over the back of his chair and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“What’s wrong, Arthur?” your gentle query received another sigh.

“Nothing, Y/N. Just Tommy being a twat again and not asking what I thought.” came his grumbled reply. You gently placed a kiss just above his ear and sighed too.

“Why don’t you tell him?” That received a dry chuckle as he sat up and you slid off his shoulders, coming to stand next to him.

“It doesn’t exactly work like that, but maybe. There’s a family meeting tomorrow. I might, but I doubt he’ll listen.” You nodded and licked your lips slightly in thought.

“Just let me know if there’s anything I can help with,” you said gently as you returned to your desk. He nodded in response and you both quietly slipped back into a swirling world of numbers and letters.

Friday evening was the next time you saw Arthur. He was working away from his office for most of Friday, especially since there was a race on and Shelby Company limited still operated a betting shop. You had been counting the earnings of today’s race for hours, so when Finn pranced into your office at the end of the day and asked if you wanted to go to The Garrison with him and the boys, the answer was a resounding yes.

As you left your office for the evening, Finn linked your arm with his and walked you to the Garrison, happily comparing the work that you two had done. There was nothing flirtatious about your relationship with Finn, he was too young for you anyway. But, he had an easygoing sense of adventure and was known to crack a joke about anything. Besides, Finn had his suspicions about you and Arthur, and he knew that if it was as he suspected, it would not be wise to try anything.

The two of you arrived at The Garrison and relaxed into the noisy, smoky atmosphere. You could have easily entered the Shelby box, but preferred to mingle with people more akin to yourself once in a while. Finn ordered for you, and before you knew it, you had been challenged to a drinking game. Usually you wouldn’t have bothered, but tonight, you were out to win.

Arthur stepped through the doors of his beloved pub, just in time to see Y/N drinking his baby brother, Finn, under the table. He chuckled lightly to himself, but his mood soon turned sour when he noticed that you weren’t just experiencing his attention. The man sitting next to you at the bar had placed his hand on your waist and was trying to pull you onto his lap. Try being the keyword here, as you had turned to him and tried to explain that, one: you weren’t a prostitute, and two: you weren’t interested. But this man was adamant, even reaching up to feel at your breasts.

Arthur could feel your discomfort from where he stood. He could feel the fire of rage building up in his stomach, until, finally, he snapped.

You hadn’t even noticed that Arthur was here until you felt the man that had been bothering you get ripped away. As you turned to find out what was happening, you saw the side of Arthur that, until now, you had doubted the existence of.

Arthur had your harasser on the floor and was beating him with a fury that you'd never seen before. It was clear that this man was unconscious, and his face was a bloodied mess. If no one stopped him soon, this man may die. And, really, that was what Arthur wanted. You were under his protection, regardless of whether you liked it or not, and no one would hurt you again.

You stepped forwards, wobbling slightly from the alcohol you had consumed. As you approached, Arthur tensed, sensing that someone was coming. Slowly, you placed your hand on his back and he spun around, towering over you.

“Arthur, please. Stop.” Finally it clicked in Arthur’s brain that this newcomer was you. His eyes softened.

“Let’s go home, love,” He croaked, sliding his hand around your waist and leading you out of the pub. You gently steered Arthur towards your home, unlocking the door when you arrived and sitting Arthur down on the sofa. He sat there, silently shaking, while you gathered a first aid kit.

“This is going to sting a little bit, Arthur,” you whispered as you sat down on the sofa beside him and dabbed some whiskey onto a cotton pad, taking his hands into yours to clean the cuts. He winced slightly, but sat still as you began to wrap his hands in bandages.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you do it?” you asked, leaning onto his shoulder as you tied off the bandages. Arthur looked down at you and took your chin into one of his hands.

He held your chin, tilting your head so you looked him in the eyes.

“You’re mine, Y/N. I wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you. I love you too much for that,” he muttered before pressing his lips gently to yours.

“I will never let anyone hurt you, I promise.”

#Arthur shelby #Arthur shelby x reader #Jealous Arthur Shelby #fluff #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #shelby brothers #shelby company limited #john shelby #finn shelby

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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

Cracked Mirror

A/N: hi, I continued to see a bunch of “season 2 Spencer would be so scared of season 12 Spencer, so I decided why not write them meeting? let’s do it, baby super angsty :P it took everything in me to not tag ‘how it should’ve gone’ but basically this is ‘how it should've gone.’

Summary: Spencer Reid? Meet a very much older Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Season 15 Spencer & Season 2 Spencer

Category: Angst

Content Warnings: no ship, mentions of drug addiction, drug abuse, Tobias Hankel, Maeve, mentions of Jeid

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

_____

Spencer 15:

The smell was always the first thing I noticed when I woke up from a restless sleep. It meant I was alive, that the terrors that danced across my eyelids like a ballad of the doomed were not real. I never believed in the Higher Power, but if there was an Evil Spirit, it possessed my mind the second my guard fluctuated.

The smell, however, the one made up of stiff air that paralyzed you and blood you weren’t sure was yours, that smell meant I got to live another day.

It also meant I could still die.

But now I woke up in a startle because I wasn’t supposed to be here. I escaped this place before, I made it out. Did my only indicator of life just turn into my own personal Hell? Was I finally gone, seconds ago hoping for rest only to come to the conclusion that I would never get the chance?

I was back in a gray jumpsuit, and what scared me the most was how quickly I got up to make my bed.

“Reid, you have a visitor.”

Spencer 2:

They say every person in their career has a moment that changes the way they view their job forever, and I would’ve liked to continue to believe I had mine already, when I put away the first unsub that didn’t deserve the life they were unfortunately gifted to live out. I know I couldn’t sleep much after.

But now that I hurry past empty cells and recreation rooms on my way to a stone box with a killer, I changed my mind.

This was my moment.

I had to keep up with Hotch, and I wish it was because I was scared of getting lost, but it wasn't. If I lose Hotch, I’m afraid I’ll lose my life.

We just had to reach the interrogation room, and we’ll be fine. We just have to talk to... to who?

Who are we here to see? Why am I here?

“Hotch.” The older man stopped his fast pace to turn to me exasperated. I would have that expression too if someone stopped me in a place like this, but here I am, feet stuck to ground like a fear-inducing glue because I can’t remember why I’m here.

“What’s wrong, Reid?”

“Why am I here?” Hotch didn’t get angry, or confused at my question. Instead, Hotch’s face turned into something that was a prized rarity at other times, but right now, it ran my blood cold.

He nodded at me, his face visibly relaxing with understanding, and kindness spreading from his eyes into mine.

“You have someone here you need to see.”

And then he just continued the path we were on until we reached a metal door with a window not large enough to see who was waiting for me on the other side. I didn’t get too close, giving myself a 5 foot head start in case I needed to run, but Hotch would never put me in a position like that, right?

He would never use me as a pawn in a game of life or death.

“Whenever you’re ready.” By the time all the questions flooded through my head like a tsunami that made it to the tip of my tongue, Hotch was gone.

The invisible magnetic field between myself and the door was a force backed up by science. I felt the way it tugged me forward, like negative and positive electrons charming me with the song of the buzzer unlocking it.

When I was ready, he said. Would I ever be ready for the feeling that washed over me? I felt the weight of the world rest on my shoulders, stuck in an ocean made entirely of resin, slowly hardening around me to keep me trapped.

But I still grasped the cool metal doorknob, and I wish I took a deep breath before entering. It was the wrong call on my part, because I walked in and all the oxygen left my lungs in a flash.

The air in the room felt different. It hung with the purpose of imprisoning those who dare breathe it into their lungs. Enchantment and intoxication were meant to hold beauty and grace, leading the charmed to a fulfillment in life worth living.

But the eyes of Medusa were in the room with me, and I was stupid enough to turn to stone.

“Who are you?” How could I ask that? I knew the answer by looking into his eyes. I say his, because they weren’t mine. Sure, they had the same hazel color, and the same round, boyish shape, but they looked so dull. Sadness, the kind that moves mountains and starts wars, was buried deep in the beholder, casting a shadow over his soul.

I didn’t stare for very long. I couldn’t.

“You know who I am.” His voice was worse. “I know why I’m here. Sit down.”

“I- I just... Absolutely not! This is- this, I- I can’t. I have to get out of here.” Insanity! It had to be. I was staring at a person I didn’t know, yet knew every little detail about, and I couldn’t breathe.

“Sit down before you panic.” There was no point in lying and saying I was fine, he knew it would be a lie. We weren’t just profilers.

So I sat, taking my time to round the table and pull the chair farther back to establish a far enough distance between us. He did the same. Of course he did.

“Answer my question,” I whispered, looking down at the place where the leg of the table met the top.

“There are far better questions to ask me.” He was right, there were more pressing matters at hand, but how do you ask someone what landed them in a jumpsuit when you were terrified of the answer?

“Did- is time travel a thing?” The second the question left my mouth, I realized how absurd it was, but so was staring into the cracked funhouse mirror I was currently stuck in front of.

“Come on, we don’t have much time, and that’s what you want to ask me? Dig deeper.” Is this how Morgan feels when I’m always right?

How could I dig deeper when it all went so far that the only thing consuming my soul was a bottomless black hole? The memories flashing from projectors all around me as I sank further until eventually my oxygen ran out. Going deeper meant letting the weight of my heart push against my chest like a rock thrown into the depths of the ocean, but I suppose he would follow me.

“What happened?” I looked up to see him take a deep breath, leaning back in the chair with careful contemplation. There was something more though, something that lingered the second we met eyes.

Jealousy. There was nothing of myself to be jealous about, however.

“We made too many mistakes.” We. Only one of us was in the jumpsuit. There had to be some way to avoid that, right?

“God, this is insane!” I promptly shouted, standing up frantically. “You’re the prisoner here, not me, okay? I didn’t do anything. You did. How am I even here? What is happening, I don’t understand.” At the end of my yelling, I was so far out of breath that I had to lean against the wall. “What is this?”

“Tobias Hankel.” No no no, it can’t be. Am I dead?

“Sit down.” I listened immediately this time, too exasperated to care about being cautious about it.

“You’re with him right now, and from what I can tell, you’re probably in a drug-induced dream.” My head shot up at the mention of Tobias’s coping mechanism for myself. “When you wake up, I don’t expect you to hold onto hope, but for that quick second you let go, don’t feel guilty about it. It will eat you alive if you do.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but I’m right, and you need to listen to everything I’m telling you.” I was never one to make demands like this.

“And if I do? Will it stop me from becoming you?”

“No, probably not.” Before I had the chance to get angry again, I watched the way his eyes started to glisten with tears. I watched him crack a little bit more, adding to the already gaping slashes across his heart. How many more until he breaks?

“Leave them in his pocket,” he continued after taking a grounding deep breath. “You don’t need it.”

“What are you talking about?” Secretly, I knew what he was meant, because after this nightmare ended I would be back in a far worse one silently begging to return to this interrogation room.

There were so many thoughts running through my head that it was hard to focus on just one. Plus, I wasn’t really getting any context here.

“I don’t think I can give you many details. I don’t even know if we’ll remember this, or how I got here, but we don’t have much time. There are so many things you need to know.”

“I know practically everything.”

“No you don’t, kid. You know nothing.” He suddenly stood up, walking over to the wall on our left, leaning a hand against it and hanging his head. “When you feel like something is wrong with him, don’t keep it to yourself. Tell Hotch, request time off, do whatever you have to do. Just, go visit him.”

“Who?”

“You’ll know.” There was so much guilt in his voice that I felt it in my chest. It was like a hole was drilled into me, leaving my heart exposed to vultures who wouldn’t hesitate to rip pieces from me.

“What about my mom? Do I... you know?”

“No, you don’t, but promise me something.” He turned to look at me again, hazel meeting hazel. “On days that she’s lucid, tell her everything. Tell her what you ate for breakfast, and that one time Morgan fell trying to kick a door open. Tell her about the dark parts, about how much you love her. Tell her everything.”

“Oh God is she-”

“No. I don’t think I should be telling you that, but no. Don’t think like that.” As if remembering something, he rushed back over to sit down, pulling his chair in and leaning over the table. “Stop running every negative outcome of every situation in your head. Be careful, but don’t be so careful it becomes reckless. That’s how people get hurt, including you.”

“Is that what happened to you? Is that how you ended up here?”

“No. I’m innocent, always was. I ended up in here because I let myself get blinded by a fantasy I had no business dreaming about. There’s going to be times for you to have dreams bigger than yourself, but the second they start to become nightmares, you have to pull yourself back. Don’t get trapped, kid.”

“You know, Morgan calls me ‘kid’. I don’t really know if I like it or not.”

“You’ll come to love it, but with Morgan, don’t push him away. He’s one of the only few people in this world that won’t scrutinize or judge you, and you need to be honest with him.”

“Why?” After asking, I immediately regretted it, because his answer was the one I’ve been dreading the most.

“Because things are going to hurt you, and it’s okay to ask for help every once in a while.”

“What things? Tell me,” I begged, rushing my words and internally cringing at how desperate I sound, but I needed to know. I needed to know the truth.

“When you fall in love, tell her.” He casted his eyes downward, staring at his hands rough and calloused from the years, kind of like Hotch.

“Is it... is it JJ?”

“No,” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head softly. “You’ll learn one day the difference between being in love with someone, and just simply loving them.”

I couldn’t help the disappointment spread through me for a second, but I quickly gained my composure when I remembered I’m sitting across a profiler.

“This is too much.” My brain was starting to hurt.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” A question crossed my mind causing my hands to stop their fidgeting for just a moment, but as quickly as it came, it was gone and my hands resumed. He caught it though. Of course he did.

“What was that thought?”

“My d-” I cleared my throat before continuing. “William. Did he ever...?” I let the words fade out, hoping that he would understand where I was going. He did. Of course he did.

“No.” He took a deep breath, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching tightly. “He didn’t.”

“Oh.” While I was disappointed, he looked angry. As sick and twisted as it was, I wish I was more like him. Even with the despairing look in his eyes that came with agonizing memories, he was the man everyone expected me to be.

He looked at me as if he also wished the roles were reversed. Of course he did.

The edges of the room slowly started to get fuzzy, my vision blurring for a second. “You’re waking up.”

“Can- can I ask you something?” Even though I was terrified of the answer.

“Of course.”

“When did it all go wrong?” He let out a long sigh before running his hands down his face.

“I can’t tell you the exact moment, because even I’m not sure. I can tell you that even when it doesn’t feel like it, you’re alive. You survived, and on some days that’s all that’s going to matter.”

“Do you smell that?” Please say yes, because the smell of burning fish hearts and livers was burning my nostrils and clouding my head.

“Wake up, Spencer. It’s okay.”

“Wait!”

Spencer 15:

My eyes shot open only to be met with blinding lights that seared my pupils. The beeping coming from the machine next to me was the second thing I noticed, and the third was a very alarmed Penelope.

“What happened?” My voice was raspy, and my throat burned intensely.

“You don’t remember? Spencer, you collapsed.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of what else to say. Logically, I knew I probably sustained a head injury from the explosion, but when I tried to think beyond that, my brain got fuzzy.

“Are you okay? You know, besides the whole passing out thing?”

“Y-yeah, I just.” I stopped talking. Just what? Penelope hummed curiously for me to continue, but I couldn’t.

“I think I got a second chance.” No matter how vague it was, how little she knew of what that truly meant, Penelope beamed with joy at my answer, and I smiled right back.

“I’ll go get the doctor.” And when she left, I stared up at the ceiling, hoping that the scared kid I used to be took my advice.

____

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

sugar sugar - october.

Summary: Henry invites her to a rooftop party and that is only the beginnings of a whole lot of changes for Becky.

Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x Becky Kim (asian OFC)

Warnings: Just an idiot who doesn’t take no for an answer, but that’s it.

Wordcount: 8.5k 🙈

A/N: I hope you guys like this chapter (and please Tumblr, don’t eat comments anymore, thank you very much)

Masterlist // Sugar Sugar Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

October 1st 8 p.m.

Henry asked me if I wanted to go with him to a rooftop party. I mean, of course I wanted to go with him, because I’ve never been to a party like that. However, as I try to find something to wear, I’m left with barely anything. The money he gave me, went straight to the bank to pay off a tiny bit of my severe debt. I kinda want to ask Henry to just pay it all off, but I’m too scared to ask him.

But now I sorta wished I spend it on clothes. I don’t even know what one wears to a rooftop party.

I slip on my black heels after I put on a simple black shirt with long sleeves, that’s tugged in a grey checkered pants. This looks sort of sophisticated.

I hope.

With my purse in hand, I walk out of my door. I know Henry is already here, so now I only need to sneak passed mister Del Rossi.

Let’s just hope he is watching some series again.

After I peeked around the corner, I see he is too invested in a different movie, so I shoot out of the building without him noticing me. Once I’m outside, I see Henry leaning against his Range Rover.

He looks so expensive. I think his belt is probably worth more than my entire outfit. The black slacks accentuate the firmness of his legs (and probably the firmness of his ass too, but only time will tell) and he paired it with a tight white blouse, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong underarms and probably severely overpriced watch.

Instead of greeting him, like you usually do when you see someone you know, I let the words: ‘I’m severely underdressed,’ slip, whilst stopping in the middle of the curb.

’No, you’re not,’ Henry says. ‘You look perfect.’

Perfect isn’t a word I would associate with me. Ever. Even my parents and siblings would agree that perfect and I don’t go hand in hand.

‘Excuse me, what?’

‘You look perfect,’ he repeats. ‘If you think you’re underdressed though, you and I could go shopping first. We have time.’

‘Really?’ I ask. ‘I mean, you wanted to go to the party tonight. Don’t you wanna be on time?’

‘There is a thing called fashionably late,’ he says. ‘Besides, I don’t want you to feel underdressed.’

Is this honestly my life now? I sort of say I want something and he just puts his life on hold, simply to give it to me?

I could get used to that.

‘How much time do we have left?’ I ask. ‘I mean, is there even a store open now?’

‘We have all the time in the world. Now get in, Becky,’ he says with a smile, ‘I know a place that is still open.’

✤ ✤ ✤

When Henry says he knows a place, he really does know a place. He takes me to the most luxurious boutique in the entirety of Manhattan and the owner (who is a lot smaller than Henry, but wow, is he very handsome. Totally someone I would break my neck for if I saw him passing me) holds up his hand when he spots us. ‘Henry, what a surprise.’ His brown eyes land on me and he smiles even brighter than before. ‘Hi there, I’m Peter.’

He holds out his hand and I carefully take it. ‘I’m Becky, nice to meet you.’

‘What can I do for you today?’

‘We’re going to the rooftop party at Gino’s,’ Henry says, his hand possessively in the dip of my waist, almost as he wants everyone in the store (and that includes the four rich looking guys in the back of the store) to know I’m with him. ‘And we want something for her to wear. Though I think she looks beautiful already, she should feel comfortable.’

Excuse me, my legs should not feel this wobbly.

Peter nods. ‘Well, I have just the thing for you. Walk with me, Becky.’

Henry squeezes my waist, before I walk with Peter to the left of the store.

‘So,’ Peter says, ‘are you enjoying this type of lifestyle?’

How does one respond to this implication, especially when it’s true? ‘Hm, what?’

‘Oh love, I know all about what you two have,’ he says. ‘Henry and I go way back.’ He goes through the clothing racks, as his eyes scan every item on the it. ‘We went to high school together and became best friends. We still are. So, after college, he goes to start Midnight and became filthy rich and I didn’t. I worked in cheap clothing stores after studying fashion and when he saw me struggle, he gave me the head start I needed. And now, look at me. One of the greatest boutiques here in Manhattan.’

‘Really?’ I ask him. ‘Does he give away money like that all the time to anyone?’

He shakes his head as a chuckle leaves his lips. ‘No,’ Peter answers. ‘He barely does it. Only to charities, but he always does it anonymous. You know, it was my idea to sign him up for Sugar Sugar. He is getting pretty lonely.’

‘How?’ I ask. ‘I mean, how does someone who looks like that, doesn’t have someone in his life?’

‘He is…’ Peter starts, ‘wait a minute, how do I say this? Keen on a solitary life.’

‘But why did he sign up then?’

‘Because the solitary life isn’t doing him any good.’ He smiles and says: ‘Becky with the good hair was the first profile to pop up on his feed and it was all he needed to see.’

I’m oddly flattered. ‘Really?’ I ask. ‘Why?’ I try to think about my profile picture, which was a very plain picture of me sitting in the grass during a picnic with Genevieve and Viola.

‘I don’t know. We signed him up and he was sold the second he saw your pictures and read your profile. He didn’t even check other profiles, just clicked on yours to send you a message.’ Peter has obtained a set: a tight black skirt with a white long-sleeved crop top. He ushers me to follow him and like a puppy I trail behind him. He grabs some black shiny boots, with a high thin heel after he asked for my shoe size. He even takes some jewelry with him.

Peter hangs everything up for me in the dressing room, as Henry takes a sit in a chair. ‘Show me when you’re dressed, okay?’ he says to me. I nod and when Peter stepped out of the dressing room, I close the curtain behind me.

While I’m changing, I hear them softly talking. I lean towards the curtain with my ear and try to decipher what they are talking about, but I can’t understand what they’re saying.

Is it true though, what Peter told me? Was Henry really sold the second he saw my profile? Meaning, he is not lying when he calls me beautiful?

I look at myself in the mirror and grab the silver collier and the matching ring. This looks amazing, I think to myself, as the skirt and top give my such an hour glass figure. My work attire is a star in hiding the few curves I have and my other clothes don’t quite accentuate it. I put on the heels and open the curtain.

‘My oh my,’ Peter says as I step out. ‘You are stunning.’

‘Thanks to you,’ I chuckle. ‘I absolutely love it.’

Peter walks over to me, pulling the skirt a little straighter. ‘You know, I love every piece of clothing in this boutique, but it’s always the model who makes it work. You sure you don’t want to model for me?’

I should not be blushing. ‘I don’t think I would be good enough for that.’

‘Nonsense,’ Peter says. ‘You don’t have to say yes straight away, but think about it.’ From the looks of it, he is dead serious.

Henry stands up and gets closer to me, causing him to literally tower over me. He grabs his hand in mine, inspecting the ring. ‘Peter,’ he says, ‘do you have a ring that is a little bit more delicate?’

His friend nods and walks into the store to grab a different ring. Henry gently pulls the ring off my finger.

‘What do you think?’ I ask him. ‘I mean, you’re probably gonna pay for it.’

‘I am gonna pay for it,’ he says with a smirk. ‘What Peter said: you’re stunning. I think I’ll be making everyone very jealous with you by my side.’

I highly doubt it, but this sure is a nice compliment.

Peter comes back with a different ring and after they exchanged them, Henry slides on the other ring around my finger.

This sure gives me enough to work with for my next dream, I can tell you that. The ring is a little bit more delicate, but when I look at it, it’s indeed better around my finger. ‘Perfect,’ Henry says. ‘You want a clutch to match with this?’

‘I’d rather have a purse,’ I mumble.

I don’t have to tell Henry twice. ‘Peter, could you grab some purses for her to check out?’

The store owner hurries back to the store once again, this time to fetch us some purses.

‘Should I put my other clothes in a bag?’ I suggest. ‘I can do that, while we wait.’

I already turn around, but Henry pulls me back. ‘No,’ he sternly says, ‘stay here.’

While Peter gives us four purses to show, he is actually the one that puts my other clothes in a bag, neatly folding it in a way I never do that. I pick a black and white purse, though I really like the pink one. It’s just that I’m not confident enough to pull off a bright pink purse with this outfit.

After Peter cut out the tags off my clothes and Henry paid for them (it was a good two thousand dollars, my poor heart), he receives the bag with my clothing from his friend and we say our goodbyes to Peter. ‘Can we go here more often?’ I ask Henry, as he opens the door for me.

‘If you want that, of course.’

Once we’re seated in his car again, I look to the side. ‘Thank you, I absolutely love it.’

‘Good,’ he says, starting the car. ‘You look like an absolute vision, Becky.’

✤ ✤ ✤

I know about how valets work, but I’ve never seen it happen in real life. I actually thought about working as a valet, but then I remembered I don’t have a drivers license, so that possibility went off the table fairly quick.

Henry held up his hand when a valet guy wanted to walk around the car to open my door, only to do it himself. He offered me his hand and once I took it, he helped me out of the car. Now, we’re stepping into the elevator that’s prettier than the entire apartment building I live in.

‘Gino is a good friend of mine,’ he says. ‘His parties are usually pretty okay, but if you want to leave, just let me know.’

‘Okay,’ I say.

‘And I don’t know how your alcohol tolerance is,’ he continues to say, ‘but his drinks are pretty strong, so watch out for that.’

Good to know. I can’t handle alcohol very well, except maybe a nice wine. ‘Is there wine?’ I ask him.

‘I’ll check for you. Also, remember not to take drinks from anyone, but me, okay?’

I scoff. ‘How old do you think I am?’ I ask. ‘I’m a grown woman, Henry.’

He smiles. ‘Well, you know, Becky,’ he continues to say, ‘Gino might be nice, but his friends are not always.’ He looks to the side. ‘If I were you, I’d stay close.’

‘I was thinking the same,’ I mumble, my cockiness dissolving as we speak. ‘I’m not really good at parties,’ I admit. ‘My last party was prom and it was horrendous. And that with people I actually knew.’

He nods. ‘Another reason to stay close.’

We step out of the elevator and oh my gosh, the aesthetic of the rooftop party is beautiful. I see golden lights everywhere and with the terrace heaters, the place has a nice temperature, so I’m not freezing to death in this outfit. I hear some music, watch some people dancing in the middle of the roof, whilst other are standing near the bar or sitting on large lounge sofa’s.

Okay, the people seem okay, just they all look so expensive, while I on the other hand look really poor, even in this two thousand dollar outfit. Is Henry absolutely sure he wants me to interact with these bouche people? I mean, I am part of his reputation now. If they think low of me, I honestly don’t mind, since I’ll probably ever see them again, but if they think low of Henry, because of me… That can’t be good, especially because he pays me to be by his side.

Henry must sense my discomfort, because after he places a heavy hand on my lower back, he leans down to my ear and whispers: ‘If I were afraid you were gonna embarrass me, I wouldn’t have taken you here. Just be yourself.’

‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘Henry, I’m not even content with myself. I can fake something, get an alter ego. Just give me a minute to prepare.’

‘No,’ he says sternly, ‘I want you.’

My knees barely recover from that comment. He wants me…

…to be by his side, without putting up an act. This has no sexual meaning what so ever. We agreed on that, I know that. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Just me. Sure?’

He chuckles. ‘Sure,’ he confirms. We walk towards a table and he hands me a glass of wine, before getting himself some whiskey.

Rich men really drink that?

His hand has risen from my lower back, to the midst of my back, his thumb caressing the bare part between my skirt and crop top. It’s such a casual and simple gesture from his side, but it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, with added heart palpitations.

‘If anyone asks,’ Henry says, ‘you’re my date.’

I actually wonder if anyone is even gonna notice me, because has Henry seen himself? Right when I want to say something to him, a man walks up to us. ‘Henry, you made it!’

‘Gino, nice to see you again.’ Henry holds out his hand and the two shake hands.

Oh, Gino is quite handsome as well. Does Henry only know beautiful people? I thought Peter was to die for already, but Gino sure is a sight for the eye as well. ‘Hello there,’ Gino says, a lovely smile appearing on his face.

‘Hi,’ I say, not quite sure if I should introduce myself or wait for him to ask my name.

‘This is Becky,’ Henry says, when he senses my incapability to be polite. ‘Becky, this is Gino.’

‘Nice to meet you, Becky,’ Gino says, shaking my hand with full enthusiasm, that my shoulder nearly gets dislocated. But it’s nice to be welcomed to someones party with this much excitement. Especially because I have never met the man before.

‘Nice to meet you too,’ I finally manage to say. ‘I love the aesthetic of the party. Very warm and beautiful.’

Gino smiles. ‘You know, you’re the first one to actually say something about it.’ He looks at Henry. ‘I like her.’

He ushers us to follow him to a lounge couch in the corner and while we trail behind, I tug Henry’s hand. ‘He likes me?’ I ask him. ‘Did he really say that?’

‘He did,’ Henry says with a smile.

I watch Gino shooing people away from the couch and holds out his hand, gesturing for us to take a sit. Henry and Gino both wait till I’m seated and I place my purse on my lap, since I’m not sure how far up my skirt you can look if I just normally sit. When I crossed my legs as well, Henry places his hand on knee, as he talks business with Gino.

My entire skin burns, even the part where his cold ring is making contact with my leg.

While I’m slightly disappointed that Henry and Gino aren’t involving me in the conversation, I realize it’s not about me. Of course it’s not about me. I’m tagging along with Henry, who is much more important than I am and who has business to do, even at a party.

I let my eyes wander over the people, who all seem to know each other. People kissing each other on the cheeks as they approach someone. Women wrapping their arms around some guy, who pulls them close as they clink their glasses.

‘Where are the restrooms?’ I ask them.

‘Near the elevators,’ Gino answers. ‘On your right hand.’

‘Okay, thanks.’ I look at Henry and softly say: ‘I’ll be right back.’

I place my empty wineglass on a table and walk through the people towards the restrooms. Not to pee or anything, but to regain my thoughts. Everyone here is so pretty and gorgeous and I feel so out of place.

I mean, even the bathroom is decorated in such a pretty and rich manner, and I’m none of that. I look into the mirror and decide to touch up some of my lipstick. I do some breathing exercises, because I feel like I’m totally working myself up.

After a short break from the party, I decide to walk back to the lounge couch. I push myself through the enormous crowd of people, but when I’m really close to Henry and Gino again, I bump into someone.

‘Oh, shoot, I’m so sorry,’ I say.

The guy who I bumped into smiles at me and all of the sudden I’m in desperate need of a pair of sunglasses. Why are his teeth so white? Is that even healthy? ‘No, it’s okay,’ he says. ‘Who you here with?’ he then asks me.

‘I’m with him,’ I say, pointing at the lounge couch, only to see Henry already looking at us.

‘Want something to drink?’

Yeah, that’s a no. I’m not accepting a drink from someone who clearly has had one too many. ‘No, but thank you for offering,’ I say, taking Henry’s advice on not taking drinks from anyone, but him to heart. ‘I’ve gotta go.’

I want to walk passed him, but the man grabs my wrist tightly. ‘Come on, one drink.’

I barely learned anything in juvie, but there is one thing I learned pretty damn quickly: if you want to break yourself free from someone’s grasp, rotate your arm towards their thumb. They can’t hold onto you, even if they wanted to and seeing this man’s level of intoxication, I think it’ll be doable.

I twist my arm towards his thumb and like I predicted, he lets go of me. ‘No thanks,’ I say, quickly walking up to the lounge corner. Henry is on the edge of his seat and when I approach him, he stands up. ‘Was he harassing you?’ he asks me, his eyes a few shades darker, as he places his hand on my upper arm.

Why does Henry look like he is ready to skin the guy alive and why is that so hot?

‘No,’ I say.

‘It sure looked like it to me.’

He wants to pass me, but I place my hand on his chest (okay, that was the original plan, but it lands on his stomach). ‘I took care of it, Henry,’ I say, as we both look at the guy who is still rubbing his hand, meaning I took him by surprise. ‘I promise you, I’m fine.’

He clears his throat, almost as if he has to restrain himself not to do anything about it. He simply nods and when the two of us sit down again, he places a heavy hand on my leg, as he talks to Gino about more business stuff. His grip on my leg slightly tightens every time the guy looks our way.

While I might not understand a lot of it, I am completely drawn in by the way Henry speaks. He sounds so confident when talking about something of his own field of expertise. Tine goes by, but there isn’t a second I’m bored.

I wrap my arm around his and place my cheek against his thick upper arm.

That sparks his attention. ‘Look at you,’ he says with an endearing smile on his face. ‘You tired, Becky?’

‘No,’ I say, but that’s a lie. In all honesty: I’m dog tired.

‘We’ve been here for quite some time,’ he says, looking at his watch. ‘Two hours nearly.’

‘We’ve been here for two hours?’ I ask him. It sure doesn’t feel like that. No wonder I’m tired, it’s way passed my bedtime. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I think we should go.’

‘No, we don’t have to, not if you’re still busy.’

‘We’re going,’ he tells me.

Yeah, I can’t argue with that.

I sit up straight and when he is standing, he holds out his hand for me to take. While I’m perfectly capable to get up myself, I gladly take him up on his offer. We say our goodbyes to Gino (who actually pulls me into a hug, as apparently you do when you’re rich? I don’t know) and once we’re in the elevator again, I can’t hide my smile. ‘Gino’s nice.’

‘He is.’

‘You’re not mad about the other guy, right?’ I ask.

He scoffs, but I feel like that is the answer to my question.

‘It’s not that bad, Henry.’

‘It was to me,’ he says.

The valet pulls up the car and Henry helps me in the car again, a trait I very much appreciate and hope it never stops. Whilst Henry drives me home, I lean back against the seat and turn my head to the side. ‘What’s up?’ he asks me, turning the steering wheel with just one hand.

‘I never heard you talk that much about work,’ I say. ‘It’s nice to hear you talking about something you’re passionate about. You know, you talk a lot with your hands, once you get thrilled about something. It’s endearing.’

Henry laughs. ‘Endearing you say?’

‘Oh, right, you’re a tough guy. Endearing doesn’t match with your reputation.’

He stops the car in front of my building. ‘Thanks for going with me.’

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘If Gino has another rooftop party, please invite me. I love the way he decorates it. Or lets it decorate, I don’t know. I feel like there should be a little bit more orange and yellow added to it. Not those neon colors, but those warm and soft— Henry, why are you laughing?’

‘It’s nice to hear you talking about something you’re passionate about,’ he says with a smile. ‘You want me to walk with you?’

’No, if my landlord sees me walking in with a man like you, I have no idea how he is gonna react and I don’t want to find out.’

He opens the door for me after he got out himself and hands me the bag with my old clothes. ‘I’m taking you shopping soon,’ he says.

I like how he tries to formulate it as a question, but fails. Shows me that no matter how much money he has, he is still human. ‘Really? We’re going to Peter again?’

He nods. ‘Among other shops, yes.’

‘Great, sure. Thank you for tonight. I really had fun.’

‘Me too,’ he says.

I don’t know how to say goodbye to him, so I simply smile and walk towards the entrance of the apartment building. I look over my shoulder one more time and shyly wave at him.

I quickly run up the stairs and once I’m in my room, my phone beeps in my purse. Henry transferred a thousand dollars to me? Thank you for your company tonight, Becky it says in the description.

I can’t help but smile, though it doesn’t last very long, because I know that I have to save part of this money to pay off mister Del Rossi and the rest for my debt.

Meaning that I can’t enjoy it yet.

But that’ll come soon, I’m sure.

October 3rd 2 p.m.

Henry takes me shopping like he promised, but after the morning I had in Retro House, I continue to yawn and feel absolutely exhausted. Even in the dressing rooms, I sometimes just sit on the little stool, hoping to regain some energy. However, I pull myself together fairly quickly when I realize Henry is here to pay for everything my heart desires. The least I can do is be a nice shopping partner.

We decide to take a bit of a coffee break at a nearby cafe and thankfully that means I can get some caffeine in my body. I sure need it.

‘You’re tired,’ Henry notes.

Okay, I’m not doing a very good job at hiding it apparently. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry. Rough morning at the restaurant,’ I say. I lean back in the chair and close my eyes as the soft sun rays shine on my face. ‘I also slept like shit last night.’

‘You want another job?’ he asks.

I open my eyes again, to look at him. ‘Oh absolutely, but I have very little to offer,’ I say. ‘I’m not qualified for anything.’

‘How about you just quit your job?’ he suggests.

I choke on my own spit. Did he honestly just say that I quit my job? As lousy as working at Retro House is, I can’t just stop. ‘Excuse me, what?’ I ask. ‘That I’m pretty dependable on you already is out of my own comfort zone, but quitting my job? Seriously? What do you want me to do with my time? Take your credit card and shop till I drop?’

Come to think of it, that actually sounds like something I would thoroughly enjoy.

Henry chuckles. ‘I was going to offer you a different job,’ he says.

While the fantasy of me walking downtown with Henry’s credit card in my thousand dollar purse, an assistant who carries my bags and a little chihuahua walking next to me in a matching outfit runs through my mind, I realize that another job might be better for my pride.

‘Oh,’ I say, as the idea of a new job sparks my interest. ‘What type of job?’

‘Midnight is looking for someone who can work in the archives. It’s currently a mess there and it’s only getting worse, unless someone is there to organize it.’

I think I can actually do that. ‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘I mean, I don’t want to work for you because you feel sorry for me.’

‘I don’t feel sorry for you,’ Henry tells me. ‘I want to give you an opportunity to make money, before your writing career takes off.’

I snort. ‘Yeah, like that’ll ever happen

He tilts his head. ‘It’ll happen, Becky, I’m sure of that. You know, the money you earn with this job, can go to your bank account and you save up.’

‘Are you serious?’

He nods. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered.’

This is an amazing opportunity. I mean, working in the archives, that’s a job I would actually quite love to do. This will give me the opportunity to provide for myself and work on my books, while Henry still does what he does as my… I really don’t want to think about the word…

The things he does as my sugar daddy.

But there is one thing that is holding me back. ‘I can’t take you up on that offer,’ I say. ‘You see, your office is too far from my place. It’s around an hour by car. I don’t have a car, nor can I drive and… Going with public transportation is just something I can’t afford.’

‘You can’t drive?’ he asks me.

I shake my head.

‘You want to be able to drive?’

I shrug. ‘Maybe on abandoned roads somewhere else, but not here in New York. That just gives me stress.’

Henry nods. ‘Well, I’ll arrange a car for you to pick you up whenever you have to go to work. However, on your first day, I’ll pick you up, so I can help you around, get you a bit more familiar with the place.’

My eyes widen. ‘Seriously?’

‘Of course,’ he says.

‘Isn’t that a hassle? I mean—’

‘I don’t mind driving,’ he interrupts me, ‘and I don’t mind picking you up.’

I feel like I can’t argue with that, so I nod. ‘How much money would I make?’

‘Around three thousand a month, but you and I can negotiate about that.’

I think three thousand a month is absolutely fine, especially because I can pay back mister Del Rossi in no time once I have a steady salary. ‘Henry, I don’t know how to thank you. This is absolutely amazing.’

‘You can thank me by accepting the job. We’ll sign something tonight.’ He pulls out his phone and says: ‘I’ll have my assistant working on that. I’ll call him right now.’

✤ ✤ ✤

Becky: LISTEN UP LISTEN UP

Becky: I quit my job!!

Genevieve: You’re a full time sugar baby now?

Genevieve: I mean, I thought the sites told you not to do that?

Becky: No, I have another job.

Viola: Oh really??? Tell us all about it!

Becky: Meet Midnight’s new archivist: Miss Rebecca Kim.

Genevieve: Beck, you serious? You’re gonna work for your daddy?

Becky: Yes I’m serious and whenever you refer to Henry, either use his full name or the term SUGAR daddy.

Genevieve: I’ll think about it 😉

Genevieve: It’s just that daddy has a nice ring to it.

Genevieve: Daddy Henry omfg

Becky: ANYWAYS

Becky: I’m gonna make 3000 a month!

Viola: I love my bf, but at this point I want what you have.

Viola: I want to make $3000 a month, whilst also getting lovely gifts too.

Viola: I’m so happy for you!!

Genevieve: BECKY!!! I HAVE A GOOD IDEA!!

Genevieve: GIVE HIM BLOWJOBS WHILE HE IS WORKING AND YOU’RE UNDERNEATH THE DESK!!

Becky: GEN, NO!!!!

October 7th 7:30 a.m.

We settled on the normal three thousand a month, since I don’t want special treatment simply because I am Henry’s sugar baby. We also decided that Henry offered me the job, after visiting Retro House a few times and we got to talk about something I want to do with my future. I mean, it’s not a total lie, so it’s easy to sell if anyone asks.

After he called his assistant, we went to even more stores, because I need to dress to impress, especially on my first day of work.

And today is the day. I would lie if I said I wasn’t nervous, because last night I couldn’t sleep at all. I was tossing and turning, to a point I fell off my bed.

Twice.

Henry kept his promise and picked me up and we’re already ten minutes on the road. But the traffic is really bad today, however I feel like it wouldn’t matter if I was late on my first day, when you drive along with your boss, a.k.a. the CEO of the entire company.

Henry leans back in his seat, as he watches the road. We’re standing completely still and that makes me even more nervous. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, ‘it’ll go fine today.’

‘Really?’ I ask him. ‘I mean… I don’t know why I’m so nervous. What if no one likes me?’

‘Impossible,’ Henry retorts within a second. ‘You have a very likable personality, Becky. If someone doesn’t like you, maybe I should fire them.’

That should not make me this giggly from the inside, but it still does. ‘You don’t need to do that.’

Henry pulls up, only to stop shortly afterwards. The road is jam packed and he is getting very frustrated now, though he tries his best to hide it.

‘Do I have breaks?’ I ask him.

‘You can have as many breaks as you want,’ he says.

‘Henry, I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your… You know what. I want to be just like one of your other employees.’

He chuckles. ‘Well, since you work from eight—though I think today you start at nine, with this traffic—till two or three, you should have two breaks of thirty minutes.’

‘That’s long,’ I note.

‘I like to give my employees a lot of breaks,’ he says. ‘Helps them to keep concentrated. You can grab your lunch in the cafeteria, it’s all free, so don’t worry about that. You can hang around there, but the view from the archives is lovely, so who knows you want to stay there. That’s up to you.’

I look to the side, at the exact moment Henry runs his tongue over his bottom lip. ‘On normal days,’ I say, ‘do I see you?’

‘You can come up to my office whenever you want.’

‘Henry,’ I mutter, ‘I’m just like your other employees.’

‘I know that,’ he says. ‘But I literally personally hired you. Meaning you’re not like my employees to begin with.’

I let out a chuckle. ‘Mhm, we’ll see.’

✤ ✤ ✤

The exterior of the Midnight building is magnificent, but the inside is even more ravishing. The floors shine, the walls are either painted or covered in wallpaper, I can’t tell the difference and even the ceiling is decorated.

I receive my own pass that gives me access to any room, including the upper floor, which is Henry’s office where only he, his assistant and people who are invited are allowed. He shows me the floors and I try to ignore every glare I receive from people who are obviously surprised and confused by the CEO giving me a tour of this place.

We finally arrive on the seventeenth floor and after we walked through a long hallway, we arrive at the archives.

And to call this a mess, is an understatement. I don’t think I have ever seen this much paper unorganized on the floor in my life. ‘How is your company this successful?’ I ask Henry, who stands behind me, taking in the mess. ‘This is absolutely appalling.’

‘It is,’ he admits. ‘You’re still up for the job?’

‘I think I am,’ I mumble. ‘Just tell me how you want it and I’ll start right away.’

Henry explains he wants everything put in folders, boxes and preferably both alphabetized and sorted out by year. That is something I totally agree with.

After I placed my bag in the only free space of this room (the right corner), I crouch down to collect some paper, making sure the entrance is sort of free from paper. Henry walks around the corner, trying to find a label maker, stapler and other office supplies I might need.

The door creaks and I feel this enormous pack of paper land on my back. I wince as I look over my shoulder, to see this guy with such a smug grin on his face.

‘Excuse me,’ I ask, ‘what’s your problem?’

‘Just bringing some paper,’ he says.

‘Are you blind? Can’t you see I’m trying to organize this place?’

‘Sorry, sweetheart, just giving you more to do.’

I clench my jaw. Is this man for real? Firstly, he attacked me with paper. Secondly, he has the audacity to call me sweetheart. What’s next? He asks me to take off my clothes and organize this mess naked, while he grabs some popcorn, to enjoy the show and gives me more to do here?

‘Well,’ I say, ‘since it’s my first day here, I don’t think it would be nice of me to ram this pack of paper up your ass, but let me tell you this: if you ever have the nerve to throw a something in this room, I swear to—’

‘Mister Miller,’ I hear behind me. ‘Causing trouble again?’

The color in Miller’s face disappears, as he gulps, realizing Henry has both seen and heard what he said. ‘No, sir, absolutely not,’ he stammers.

Henry walks over to us, placing a box next to my feet. ‘Let’s have a talk outside,’ he says, placing his hand on the guy’s shoulder, ready to escort him out of the room. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he says to me, before walking out.

I open the box Henry placed next to my feet and I see a lot of supplies. I massage the spot on my back, where the thick pack of paper hit me. I bruise like a peach, I know that. A strong wind could break my nose and I’m sure I’ll feel this unfortunate meeting of this pack of paper against my back for awhile.

‘You’re alright?’ I hear Henry ask, when he comes back.

‘I’m okay,’ I say. ‘What happened to him?’

‘Just a small downgrade of his job description.’ The nonchalance in his voice cannot be missed. He seems like a tough boss, someone who applies the rule ‘one strike and you’re out’, but at the same time, he seems like the boss that would give you as much time off as you need, when you have a personal matter and actually visits you to check in with you. ‘I have a last minute meeting,’ he tells me, ‘but you’ll manage, right?’

‘I’ll manage.’

‘If you need anything, just text me. I’ll arrange something for you right away.’

Of course he will. I nod. ‘Okay, thanks, Henry.’

He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He simply nods and walks out of the room.

✤ ✤ ✤

Working at Retro House, left me with defect: I can’t take a long break, not even one. If I took a fifteen minute break during an eight hour day, that would be a reason to celebrate. Now, I can take breaks whenever I want, how long I want.

That’s too much freedom in the work environment.

It just doesn’t feel good to chill around, while I could also be working. However, at around one in the afternoon, my lack of sleep is slowly catching up with me and I sit in the corner, stapling some papers together. It’s just that the way the sun shines onto the spot, that makes me even more drowsy than I already was.

As I stare out of the window, I realize Henry’s right. The view is beautiful here. My eyelids become heavier and heavier and I slowly drift off to sleep.

I don’t know how long I’m sleeping, but I wake up when I feel someone’s hand on my shoulder. I jolt awake, ready to karate chop the person who touches me, only to see it’s Henry. ‘Oh,’I say, ‘I’m so sorry. Don’t think I’ve slept the entire time. I just felt a bit tired and I guess I drifted off to sleep and—’

He shushes. ‘No, no, none of that. I can see how much work you’ve done in one day.’

He’s not mad? ‘You’re not mad?’

Henry frowns. ‘Why would I be mad?’

‘I don’t know,’ I stammer. ‘Just… Never mind. How was your day?’

‘It was good,’ he says. ‘I think you’re done for today. You’ve done enough.’

‘Henry, my shift isn’t over.’

He smirks. ‘Well, the boss says it is.’ He holds out his hand and helps me up. ‘I’ll take you back home.’

When we’re in the car, Henry doesn’t quite say anything. While I’m figuring out what to say to him, he takes a deep breath and says: ‘I’ll be busy for the next two weeks or so.’

I should not be disappointed, yet I am. ‘Oh, okay.’

‘I won’t be able to meet up or see you at work.’

That’s a bummer. ‘That’s fine,’ I say to him.

‘Tomorrow a driver will pick you up,’ he continues. ‘His name is Laurence, he drives me around from time to time. Very nice man.’

‘Alright,’ I say.

‘And if you need anything from me, you can always text me.’ He looks to the side as he waits for the red traffic light. ‘Promise me, Becky.’

I chuckle as I nod. ‘I promise, Henry.’

October 21st 9 p.m.

Working in the archives is pretty much a solo job. I’ve snapped at people multiple times, before they get a chance to throw papers into the room and now, everyone gently places their papers on a designated table.

Maybe people don’t like me because of I yelled at them, but come to think of it: I only yelled at men.

A group of women asked me to join them on their lunch breaks. While at first glance, they didn’t seem like the type of people I’d personally pick out to eat my lunch with, they are very pleasant to be around with and I’m happy they invited me.

They, of course, all have their own lives, with husbands and children, but it’s nice to not spend my time alone.

I do however have slight issues with stopping today, because the room finally looks a bit more presentable. It’s nowhere near done, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nice to see the entire floor.

With my bag over my shoulder, I wait for the elevator doors to open. These passed two weeks, I indeed barely saw Henry, but he did transfer a thousand dollars to my bank account (with the description ‘just because’). He sometimes texted me, reminding me to take my well deserved breaks and to not only work on organizing the archives, but also work on my book, as it—and I quote—“doesn’t write itself”.

While the elevator takes its sweet time to come up to the right floor, I see that Laurence texted me that unfortunately he has a family matter. I quickly text him back that it’s okay and that I hope everything will be okay for him soon. I step into the elevator. I want to press the button to go to the ground floor, but my eyes land on the button for the upper floor.

I know Henry is in the office today and I could… You know… Talk to him.

I’m not gonna lie, but I missed him. I really wished it wasn’t like that, because I don’t think you should attach to your sugar daddy that much, but I can’t help it. I miss being around him.

When I press the button to go to the upper floor, I have to scan my pass, granting me access. The elevator takes me all the way to the top and when the doors slide open, I can already see Henry sitting behind his desk.

He looks up and smiles when he notices it’s me. ‘I was wondering when I would see you up here.’

‘Well, I don’t have a ride home. Laurence has a family matter.’

‘Yeah, so I’ve heard,’ he says. ‘He texted me a second ago. It’s pretty severe, so he won’t be able to drive you for a while.’ He nods for me to come closer.

‘Oh, that’s too bad,’ I say. ‘If you give me his address, I’ll send him a card.’

‘I’ll text you the address.’ He pats on the wooden top of his desk and I carefully take a seat. ‘You know, I’ll drive you back to your place, just have to save something and log out. Tell me: how are you?’

‘I’m good,’ I answer. ‘I really like it at the archives and it’s finally getting a bit more organized, meaning I can properly start very soon.’

‘I’ve seen it this morning, before you arrived,’ he says. ‘It looked good, Becky. Very proud of you.’

When was the last time I heard those words? I don’t think someone—besides Viola and Genevieve—has ever been proud of me. ‘It’s nothing,’ I say.

He leans back in his chair. Henry looks tired, as if these last two weeks have been pretty hard on him.

‘How are you?’ I ask him.

‘Better now you’re here,’ he quietly says, almost like he doesn’t want me to hear it, but I heard it and I’m so gonna text this to Genevieve and Viola. ‘You know, I have an offer for you.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I say. ‘Tell me.’

‘I could buy you an apartment.’

My eyes nearly roll out of their sockets. ‘What?’ I want to add a ‘No, that’s not necessary’ to it, but I know Henry long enough to realize that’s not gonna work. ‘Where?’ I ask.

He seems surprised by me not resisting the idea (believe me, I’m quite shocked myself), but he quickly regains his composure. ‘Madison Square Park Tower.’

I gasp out load. ‘What? That shit is expensive,’ I exclaim.

‘I can afford it,’ Henry says with a smile.

‘I’ve checked those apartments out before with Viola and Genevieve. It’s very very expensive, Henry. Isn’t it even a bit out of your price range?’

He frowns. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, your profile said your fortune was ten million.

Henry scoffs, almost like he’s offended. ‘Well, you can multiply that by a few.’

I am in shock. By a few? What’s a few? How much money does this man have? I don’t think I can respond to this. He is honestly that wealthy? Oh my, this is unbelievable.

This man is a catch.

‘I have a penthouse in the same building,’ he says, ‘so you can travel with me to work if you want.’

‘Of course you have a penthouse,’ I mutter. ‘If I were to say yes, just know that I don’t want a penthouse. An apartment is more than enough.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks me. ‘I can buy you a penthouse.’

‘Promise me, only an apartment,’ I say in the same tone I use to everyone who walks into the archives, before they throw their paper in the room.

He smiles. ‘Okay, only an apartment. Want to check it out?’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now.’

I clear my throat. I should be asleep, but going to Madison Square Park Tower weirdly does not happen to me a lot, so I nod. ‘Okay, sure.’

✤ ✤ ✤

My jaw is probably dislocated by the time we finished our tour on the twenty-fifth floor in apartment 25B of Madison Square Park Tower. Henry is that rich, he can literally ask the receptionist for a key, because he wants to check out an apartment and she just gives him it!

What kind of sorcery is this?

The place is totally up my alley, if I were rich and able to afford it. There are so many opportunities and possibilities to redo this place with the walls and the floors. Decorating the interior to my likings.

‘You want it?’ Henry asks me.

Yes! ‘I don’t know,’ I say to him. ‘I really don’t know, Henry.’ I stand near the window, admiring the view.

Becky, you so want this apartment. Just listen to your gut, ignore that voice of reason.

‘It’s a lot of money and I feel like you are losing yourself,’ I say to him. ‘Remember, I am your sugar baby, not your best friend like Peter, or your girlfriend. What if you and I stop for this arrangement? I can’t afford this apartment, even with all the money I’m saving and are gonna save.’

Henry lets out a deep sigh, but doesn’t say anything.

‘I very much appreciate all the things you do for me. Really. The laptop, the phone, the job. You are giving me the opportunities in life I never knew I could have. But… This is not just a studio. This is millions of dollars.’

He sits on the windowsill, crossing his arms.

I have probably fucked up big time, but that doesn’t stop me from adding: ‘You only know me for a month, Henry. I can’t accept it.’

‘I’m paying for the place,’ he says, ‘and how you want to furnish it, allowing you to save the money you make and I give you. When you and I stop our arrangement, I’m selling the place again, probably with profit and you have the kick start you need on your bank account.’

Okay, I think I can live with that. Emphasis on think. ‘You really want to do that?’ I ask him one more time. ‘Absolutely positive?’

‘Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have offered it, Becky. I want to buy you this place, so you can move out of… the place you’re currently living in.’

‘For someone with my former salary, it was a great apartment. It even came with a hallway rat.’

He looks to the side, slightly mortified. ‘Please accept my offer.’

I take a deep breath. I know if I say no, I’m going to regret it and Genevieve will kill me. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I accept your offer.’

‘Good,’ he says, ‘it’s yours next week.’

✤ ✤ ✤

‘Mister Del Rossi,’ I say, as I run into the his condo. He lets out a loud scream from his bed and then I realize, it’s almost midnight. Of course he was sleeping. I should’ve knocked or he should’ve locked his door, because it’s not safe that I can just barge in.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks me. ‘Unless you have the money—’

‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ I say. ‘I’m moving out soon.’

While he first looked slightly pissed because I woke him up, he now seems furious and ready to strangle me.

Which is very understandable.

‘But,’ I quickly say, ‘if you have around one more month of patience, I’ll pay you five months worth of rent and you can keep my deposit.’

Now I have piqued his interest. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. I have an amazing job now, an opportunity to move to a different place and I promise you, I’ll pay you. Like, at the end of November probably.’

He thinks about it, but knowing he can keep the deposit, must make this decision quite easy to make. ‘Okay,’ he says, ‘but I need you to sign something, miss Kim. I’ve had it with you and your promises.’

I totally don’t blame him for that. ‘Of course, mister Del Rossi. Thank you so so much!’

‘And now get outta here.’

‘Oh yes, of course.’ I walk towards the door and before I close it I say: ‘Sweet dreams, mister Del Rossi.’

October 22nd 7 a.m.

Becky: Girls, I’m moving

Genevieve: What? Seriously? Daddy Henry bought you a place?

Becky: 🖕🏼🖕🏼

Genevieve: I’ll take that as a yes 😉

Viola: Finally you’re moving out of that dump.

Viola: Where are you moving to?

Becky: Madison Square Park Tower

Genevieve: You need a roommate? I’ll dump Greg right away to move in with you.

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