#chapter two is UP BAYBEEEEE

[yukkiji]

footnote: uncle kotaro

your brother was never subtle, and neither was his love. so when it came time to tell him your news, there was no way to keep it quiet—or simple. especially not with twins.

chapters of us. haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader ft bokuto kotaro

genre: fluff, romance, domestic fluff, timeskip!akaashi, pregnant!reader

wc: 1.1k

author's note: uncle kotaro finally made an apperance

the house is unusually quiet for a thursday afternoon. the kind of stillness that blankets the air before something momentous.

akaashi sits in the study, red pen tucked behind one ear, brow furrowed in focus as he marks up another page of his manuscript draft. the gentle scratch of pen against paper is the only real sound, punctuated by the occasional soft whistle of the kettle from the kitchen.

you’re perched at the edge of the couch, mug in hand, watching the second hand on the clock inch toward the top of the hour.

he’s coming.

you’ve held onto the news for over a week now—long enough that it’s settled into your bones, no longer a shocking new discovery but something you carry, quietly, with growing warmth. you’ve told a few close friends, your doctor, of course. akaashi was the first.

but one person, you needed to tell in person.

kotaro.

he’s been bouncing between prefectures with the jackals, volleyball tournaments, charity events, pr appearances. his texts have been short and scattered, half-lucid with exhaustion, peppered with blurry selfies and late-night voice notes. still, you’d waited. you wanted to wait. because when it came to bokuto, some things needed to be said face to face.

yesterday, finally:

[kotaro.bokuto] "back in tokyo baybeeeee!!! coming to you guys as soon as i drop my bag. get the snacks ready!! 😎🔥"

the knock on the door comes exactly as expected—three quick taps, then two more. his signature rhythm. like a fanfare announcing himself.

you’re already on your feet. the moment you open the door, there he is—kotaro bokuto, in all his chaotic glory. slightly windblown, hoodie oversized, duffel hanging off one shoulder, and hair a little less defiant than usual, probably flattened from the train ride. but his grin? blinding.

“heyyyyyy!!” he says, arms already open wide. “oh my god, i missed your face.”

“careful,” you laugh, stepping into his hug. “i’m not as sturdy these days.”

he pauses mid-hug, leaning back. squints at you. “huh? what does that mean?”

you just wink. “you’ll see.”

inside, the apartment is warm with the familiar smell of coffee and that soft domestic quiet that’s always settled around akaashi like a second skin. he looks up from his desk as bokuto steps in, smile faint but present.

“welcome back, bokuto-san.”

“akaashi!” bokuto beams, instantly charging toward the study, then stopping short halfway. “i brought snacks and—wait, no. i left them on the train. crap. i meant to bring snacks.”

“you brought yourself,” you say, guiding him to the couch. “that’s more than enough.”

he flops onto the cushions like he’s been away for years instead of weeks. then his eyes narrow, bouncing between you and akaashi. “okay. something’s up. you’re both acting weird. secretive. like… like you joined a cult and now you’re trying to convert me gently.”

“close,” you tease.

akaashi disappears briefly into the bedroom and returns holding something. a plain white envelope, slightly wrinkled from where it’s lived in the kitchen drawer all week. a secret between just the two of you. until now.

bokuto tilts his head, catching the shift in atmosphere instantly. “what’s that?”

“something we’ve been waiting to tell you,” akaashi says, offering him the envelope.

he opens it slowly. the moment stretches.

then his eyes freeze. they scan the photo again, slower this time, his brows drawing together. his breath catches.

“wait,” he murmurs, voice suddenly small. “is this…?”

“twins,” you say, barely louder than a whisper.

there’s silence.

then—

“twins?!” bokuto shoots up like he’s just scored match point, holding the ultrasound up like it’s a championship trophy. “you guys made two?! i’m gonna be an uncle?! oh my god—wait, do i get to name them? can i teach them to spike???”

you double over laughing, clutching your stomach. “no to the names. maybe to the spiking. once they can stand, at least.”

“indoor voice, bokuto-san,” akaashi says, calmly sipping from his coffee mug. but the corners of his mouth twitch.

bokuto ignores him, pacing now, hands flailing like he’s strategizing mid-game. “oh man. this is so cool. i have to tell kuroo—wait, no, he’ll tell everyone—nevermind. this is sacred. i’m keeping it locked down. totally classified.”

“you don’t have to—”

“nope! locked in the vault,” he says, miming a key and throwing it. then he turns to you, all that fire in his expression dimming into something quieter, gentler. “hey. you’re okay? both of you? the babies?”

you nod, resting your hand instinctively over your stomach. “yeah. we’re good. tired. nauseous. but good.”

bokuto smiles, and it’s that rare kind of smile—the one that strips away all his noise and leaves just the heart underneath. “i’m proud of you guys,” he says. “like… really proud. and stupidly happy. you’re gonna be the best parents.”

you swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. “thanks, ko.”

he stays for hours.

you all order delivery and eat on the floor. you talk about every ridiculous baby name suggestion he can think of (including, horrifyingly, "spikelyn"), and you tell him about your first ultrasound, how you cried even though you swore you wouldn’t. akaashi adds quiet observations here and there, balancing the chaos with a kind of grounding calm that bokuto clearly missed.

at one point, bokuto insists he’ll babysit “literally whenever,” and you make him promise to take an infant cpr class first.

“i do have gentle hands,” he protests, pouting.

“babies aren’t volleyballs, bokuto-san,” akaashi says dryly.

“yeah, yeah,” bokuto grumbles, “but you are gonna let me buy them tiny uniforms, right? matching ones?”

eventually, night creeps in.

bokuto hugs you again before he leaves—this time tighter, but with surprising tenderness. “tell the owlets i already love them,” he says into your shoulder.

akaashi walks him to the elevator. when the apartment settles into quiet again, it’s not the same kind of stillness as before.

you head to the bedroom and stop short.

there, on the pillow, are two plush toys: a soft, wide-eyed owl and a chubby little lion. you recognize them instantly—bokuto had won them at a festival game booth last year, declaring they were “for you and keiji to hold when i’m away on long trips!”

now they’re sitting side by side.

between them is a note, written in bokuto’s familiar, chaotic handwriting:

to the little owlets, i was gonna keep these for your mom and dad, but i think you two need them more. don’t tell them i cried (i totally didn’t cry). you’re already so loved. can’t wait to yell “i’m your favorite uncle!!” in your faces. love, uncle ko 🦉🦁

you sit on the bed, clutching the note in one hand and the owl plush in the other. akaashi appears in the doorway a moment later, quiet as always, and reads the note over your shoulder.

he doesn’t say anything.

but his hand finds yours. and he holds it.

in the hush of the room, with laughter still lingering in the walls, and two small plushies nestled between the pillows, it’s suddenly clear:

the twins already have a village.

and they are so, so loved.

[cicaedahums]

"Wait, who's Reiko Kashima?" "Oh, you know. Reiko Kashima. Anyway--"

I continue to appreciate that, in spite of her generally-irreverent demeanor and way of carrying herself, it ALSO is a HUGELY prominent trait of like. Reverence for the spiritual Seiko carries with her, in a way that kind of highlights and compliments her other character traits and vice versa. Idk she's not the most involved or deep character but i will not deny her cool factor.

hehe

So Dandadan is staaarting to hint at some powercreep that I specifically complimented it for NOT doing before, but considering that, even before this instance of hopping to Seiko and Turbo Granny, Okarun had technically hopped to the alien spacecraft as early as chapter 1 (even if turbo granny was 100% calling the shots there), it's not really getting too egregious yet.

Turbo Granny's in your 5G

It's nice to see a scene like this that DOESN'T focus on the rivalry over Okarun. There's genuine concern and it has nothing to do with jealousy or love triangles.

Aww

So kind of backing up to the topic of powercreep, I'm NOT entirely sure how I feel about the elements of spirals and words being put into the mix. I liked before that there WAS kind of a hard power element EXCEPT wrt Momo's powers, which she hasn't been able to use to the full effect since I think episode/chapter 1. I'll meter expectations either way but I'm not altogether EXCITED about these new/ish elements.

These panels are curious. I've pointed out before that Aira DEFINITELY has a clever/cunning edge that predates even her getting washbin'd, and looking closely, especially with the insert of those two books/magazines, like, this scene plays out very much like she has the human body book tucked into the hair magazine (there certainly SEEMS to be two there), but in such a way Momo CAN'T tell beyond the cover.

ONE FEAR

Ok I'm glad Okarun is in the cellar bc I was genuinely like "HOLY SHIT" when the house exploded lol.

Not related but I wish I had curry now. Mmm...

Oh FUCK yes. It's about time we started utilizing the power of overwhelming malice and evil in the pantheon of friendship powers. I'm always saying this.

Still not overfond of Jiji getting to have super awesome powers outside of just the evil eye shift, but with presentation like this I'll allow it tentatively.

Why doesn't HE have limiters on his abilities like Momo tho

HELL YEAH AIRA. HELLLLLLL YEAAAAAH AIRAAAAAAAAAAAA

Oh hai kinta

OKAY an aside on Kinta rq bc i keep forgetting but while I deffo get the dirty talk thing can be annoying, I was ABSOLUTELY That Guy in high school and was similarly frustrated in why I Couldn't Get It in a way my peers and even friends did, esp since I felt like, in part, I picked it up FROM them to begin with. Which made being chewed out for it even more annoying bc like!!! "You're doing it too! You JUST made a joke like that!!!" Being An Autism is so hard sometimes. 🙄

Anyway, it's about time he got some focus! It really feels like a lot of characters have been getting thrown in atm to the point where I missed that the Slit-mouthed woman was NAMED

...He's just like me fr

VAMOLA'S BACK BAYBEEEEE

FUCK

I FUCKING KNEW IT.

WE HAVE TO KILL JIJI.

"...You showed me the meaning... of yuri..."

Anyway no fucking way Vamola is dead. No fucking way. That is BRUTAL tho but if Aira can walk off like an entire building getting hurled at her and fricken laser beams So Help Me, Vamola is surviving this if we haven't even KIND of gotten to know her yet.

"Chapter 101: Vamola"

Aw shit.

Anyway I didn't know Momo's powers could actually HEAL, and I feel like there was no real suggestion they COULD. Yes, yes, I remember they brought Aira back to life, but there were extenuating circumstances and the suggestion seemed to be that there wasn't a physical cause or injury there and restoring her was as easy as moving aura around.

Oh, nice snap cut to Aira lying completely out cold on the ground.

When tf did Okarun get a transceiver?

"Hey Dandadan, what's your HUGE political statement, the people are clamoring to know." "Make Government big."

In all seriousness, I deffo appreciate Banga so far. This also does seem to make explicit the themes of children being let down by the forbearers's mistakes, which I appreciate.

I also didn't really expect Dandadan to tackle the subject of the brutality of war and colonization so directly. Again, I don't really think it's doing it The Best, but it's also not entirely shying away from being brutal here. Also, I wonder if the means by which the suits are produced are an influence

After all of that, of course it's Ms. Banga who gets ahold of the suit first

All considered, it's a wonder Vamola was at all adjusting as well as she was.

Also: I was wrong she was fleeing from someone she was betrothed to, but I was kind of right that there was a huge mix-up in what was going on with the marriage, even if it was still a lot more straightforward than I'd initially assumed.

Ok backing BACK around to Kinta: seriously is he just Like That? Explain how you have spiritual powers sir!!!

GSDHASDFAFDS

POV YOU ARE GOING TO GET DROP KICKED

Oh ok so Momo doesn't actually have the ability to restore injuries.

BUT THE SERPO DOOOOES...

I guess that makes sense since they've already shown the ability to do uh. Bizarre things with that appendage.

They're holding hands... <:3

"Rokuro is dead"

This isn't about him.

Ok so Momo seemed to have tapped into her latent potential again during all of that. Guess when shit REALLY hits the fan she can always start warping reality as a fallback /jk

I love the contrast between Acrobatic Silky!Aira's use of words like "respectfully" and "nobly" and the formal tone that implies and also the way she peppers her speech with "shit for brains", sometimes in the same breath.

Okay, seriously, does Jiji not have limits? You'd think with his chi training being used in part to limit Evil Eye, he'd be operating on WAY fewer cylinders to begin with. Even as sb who loves Jiji to bits, I do not care for him being able to throw spirit guns every other panel. I can't see it being BECAUSE of evil Eye--the arrangement therein kind of implies a water and oil situation

Ok.

gpoy

I mean she was managing before, but I'd never complain about some primo Airaisms, esp with the Acrobatic Silky flavoring hehe

Anyway really lucky that anyone even thought to give Okarun a transceiver considering as far as they knew, he'd be OUT out and still on the brink of death. Nice of them.

[amandacanwrite]

Violet Thread of Fate || Part Seven: A Bite

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person Elinna Inklynn (Tav)

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It’s not her fault; she hasn’t ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she’s read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn’t take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || Just under 1,400 words

Warnings || Graphic descriptions of blood and small, open wounds. Kidnapping. Coercion. Threats of violence. Ingesting of blood. Sensual/pseudo-sexual experiences, may not be appropriate/comfortable for all readers. Proceed with caution. As always, please let me know if I've missed something.

A/N || Admitedly, this installment is very self-serving. I love Astarion and I LOVE writing vampire bites from the perspective of the person being bitten. Hope you enjoy, and I can't wait for what comes next after this chapter. (Get ready for some hurt comfort baybeeeee.)

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear 

@mymybirdie 

@tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24

@laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog 

@circusofthelastdays  @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

She didn’t know how she’d gotten here. 

She tried to parse it out as the sharp blade of the stranger’s dagger pressed into the sensitive skin of her neck. 

She’d been walking as fast as she could, avoiding Gale as she had been overcome with embarrassing emotion from her little spat with him. She didn’t know why she had been so upset by what he’d said. After all, she’d heard similar things from dozens of people in her life. But for some reason, after the night she’d had talking with him and sharing some of the darker corners of her history, it felt especially painful to deal with his sour mood. 

She didn’t want him to see her cry; not over what he’d said. Not because she felt above expressing emotion, but because she didn’t want him to think she was fragile and silly. She’d been trying to prove herself and having a fit over a simple moment of abrasive communication wasn’t becoming of a young woman who wanted to try to meet him on his intellectual level. 

But she’d been going too fast; she hadn’t even realized Gale was having trouble keeping up. As soon as he’d told her as much, though, she stopped dead in her tracks and turned to walk back toward him. 

But before she could get a single step further, an unseen hand had grabbed her by her arm and pulled her back into a tiny crevice between two stones she hadn’t even seen. A man–an elf–pressed his lithely muscular arm against her chest and jammed her against the stone wall. She inhaled to scream, but before she could, a gloved hand pressed against her mouth. 

“Shh, shh, shh, darling. Not a peep out of that pretty mouth of yours, you know what they say. Three is a crowd,” A stranger’s voice cooed in Elinna’s pointed ear. “Stay very, very quiet so I don’t have to hurt your little friend…or slice open that delicate little throat of yours.”

Just a few feet away, Gale called out for her. He was so close…if she could just make some indication of where she was to him…if she could just get his attention. 

But the stranger’s crimson eyes pinned her in place, promising violence as he whispered even more quietly. “Not. A. Word.”

She closed her eyes, a single tear streaking down her cheek as she heard Gale’s steps recede and his voice get quieter and farther away. 

“That’s a very good girl,” he cooed. “Now, I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth and you’re going to continue being quiet, or I’m going to paint the ground with your innards. Is that clear?” 

Elinna didn’t move. 

“Nod,” he commanded. 

She did. 

He took his hand away from her mouth. 

And then…just…well. 

Then didn’t do anything at all. 

In fact, he looked a little uncertain as to what he should do with her now that he had her. He looked exhausted, his pale skin taking on an almost violet hue in the delicate skin beneath his crimson eyes. His tongue flicked out over dry lips in a futile effort to moisten them. 

When she could no longer hear Gale anymore she cleared her throat. 

“Wh-what did you…what do you want?” she asked. 

The stranger’s pale brows knit in the middle faintly as the knife blade bit into her skin. “I told you to be quiet,” he snapped.

She winced as the blade barely sliced into the skin of her neck. She felt a bead of warm blood bloom over it before dripping down her neck and into her leather armor. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered quietly. 

But he didn’t respond. 

His eyes were transfixed on her neck where the blood ran down her decolletage and between her breasts. 

Nine hells, was he some sort of pervert? 

She watched him wet his lips again, then saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed. His lips curled back as the knife slid out of his hand and he adjusted to grip the back of her neck.

“What are you–” she said before she let out a surprised gasp. 

He pulled her tight against him, curling his fingers into her hair and forcing her to reveal her throat to him. She felt the gash on her neck strain against the angle he forced upon her, and then just seconds later, the strangeness of a cool, wet tongue lapping at the line of blood on her collarbone. 

“W-wait,” she said. 

“Quiet,” he snarled.

And she obeyed. 

He closed his lips over the wound he’d given her, tongue tracing the cut. Her hands came up and balled uselessly in the fabric of his shirt as she pushed against him weakly. He let out a quiet moan–not the moan of someone in the throes of passion, but of someone who had tasted the finest meal they’d ever had. 

Her heart hammered so hard she could feel the pulse throbbing in her throat. She felt exposed and enticed all at once. Frightened and fascinated. Violated and validated. 

What was this? 

She heard a faint shaky inhale, like the stranger might say something to her. But instead of words there was only a sharp jolt of pain as he sunk his teeth into her neck with an unnerving sound.

She let out a shocked cry and pushed against him more insistently. His other arm only wrapped around the small of her back as he crushed her against his body and drank from the artery in her neck. Every point of contact between their bodies was equal parts tantalizing and abhorrent. She had never felt someone’s lips on the delicate flesh of her neck…and the stranger’s lips; the small traces of saliva left as he lapped at her skin…they were so cold.

She tried to hold onto her will; tried to continue fighting him off. But the initial pain and shock of the bite gave way to a pleasant numbness that flooded through her body starting at her neck and sluicing through her blood stream. 

She felt flush and warm in the same way she had when she’d located a particularly detailed tome called The Art of the Night. Her thighs squeezed together as memories of passages from the pages flooded her mind; the heated first nights of a newlywed king and queen and the ways they partook in eachother’s bodies. 

Her attacker’s hand in her hair loosened until he cradled her head as it fell back, accommodating him and granting more access. 

He broke away from her throat and huffed in private amusement. 

“That’s a good girl,” he cooed, lips still brushing the damp skin of her neck. She felt her hot blood leave the wound and drip once against down her decolletage and between her breasts. “It isn’t so bad, is it? To be my little morsel if just for a stolen, precious moment?”

Elinna sighed out a soft sound as her legs squeezed together. The strangers manicured fingers combed into the hair at her nape again, his other arm cradling her against his body as a lover might, rather than crushing her into him as he was doing moments before.

“So pliant, so willing, aren’t you?” he cooed.

But as he once again placed his lips around the open wound at her throat her mind drifted to other thoughts…other wants.

She thought sluggishly that she would prefer warmth and softness rather than this stranger’s cold, hard body. She thought of the rough texture of Gale’s tidy beard and the full swell of his lower lip. She recalled a distant, cloudy memory of her thighs braced in his hands as he carried her up the stairs to The Perch. 

She drifted into a daydream she’d never let herself venture into; a dream of what it would feel like to be wanted by him the way this stranger wanted her right now. To be devoured by him. To feel his rough hands stroke up the outer curve of her thigh–to feel that same hand grip needily into her thigh.

And then the darkness deepened. 

And there were no thoughts at all.

[rychick]

AT LONG LAST AND HALF A YEAR I HAVE FINALLY PICKED “MAYBE THE REAL TREASURE WAS THE FRIENDS WE MADE ALONG THE WAY” BACK UP

AAAUAUAYAYGH

SCHOOL HIT ME LIKE A SEMITRUCK BUT NOW THAT FINALS ARE NEARLY OVER I AM THRIVING !!1 TWO PAGES ON GOOGLE DOCS TYPED AND MORE TO COME

CHAPTER THREE IS GONNA BE A LONG ONE BAYBEEEEE

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Twenty Two)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: He’s finally back baybeeeee!

Simon’s out here making moves in this one. It's pretty long and a complete rollercoaster of emotions. I could have split this one into two chapters but I’m lazy so… lmao

Also, Mard means being a whiny little baby, just for reference. 

Placebo - English Summer Rain

Always stays the same, nothing ever changes

English summer rain seems to last for ages

Always stays the same, nothing ever changes

English summer rain seems to last for ages

I'm in the basement, you're in the sky

I'm in the basement baby, drop on by

I'm in the basement, you're in the sky

I'm in the basement baby, drop on by

Always stays the same, nothing ever changes

English summer rain seems to last for ages

Always stays the same, nothing ever changes

English summer rain seems to last for ages

I'm in the basement, you're in the sky

I'm in the basement baby, drop on by

I'm in the basement, you're in the sky

I'm in the basement baby, drop on by

Hold your breath and count to ten

Then fall apart and start again

Hold your breath and count to ten

Start again, start again

Hold your breath and count to ten

Then fall apart and start again

Simon's body felt like it weighed a tonne. He leaned against the elevator wall, eyes closed as he fought an exhaustion so deep, it clawed at his insides. The last ten months had been more gruelling than anything he'd ever done, but it was done now. He'd done it. The pride he felt tugging in his chest was almost overwhelming and he couldn't wait to see Lottie. She obviously knew he made it, but he wanted to tell her how well he did, wanted her to be proud of him. 

God, he'd missed her. Being away from her with zero contact had been worse than the RTI training and he couldn't wait to get inside and grab her. He wondered how she'd been these past months, if she was alright. He'd been planning on ringing his mum to let her know he was back and asking how Charlotte had been, yet he'd been far too tired. It was only 9.43 pm but he hadn't slept in what felt like forever. The training had ended and he'd been shoved right back on a plane back for his leave before it started for real.

His muscles were firmer, bigger, than before he left. He hadn't been out of shape in the least but all this training had toned him up even more. He wondered if Lottie would like it or not, wondered a lot about what went on in her head. As the lift doors opened, he breathed a sigh of relief before stepping out and trudging his way to their apartment. The second he'd got on the plane, he'd been itching to just get home, get in bed with Lottie all to himself so he could fall asleep with her in his arms again finally. He'd had to make one stop before getting home but now he was here. 

His lips quirked up as he saw the Halloween decorations on the door. A little spooky wreath with pumpkins and ghosts, a real carved pumpkin with a lit candle just outside the door to the right. There was still a couple of days until Halloween but clearly, his girl had been busy. He eased the door open slowly, instantly being greeted by music. Placebo. He tried to place the song and it didn't hit him until he heard some lyrics. English Summer Rain. 

He looked around, seeing Charlotte in the kitchen area in one of his t-shirts and either tiny shorts or just her knickers, he couldn't tell. She was messing about with something in the oven, her body dancing about a bit to the music. He watched her with an amused smirk as she took a tray out of the oven and heavily set it on the counter. The smell drifted over to him and he almost groaned at the delicious cinnamon smell. She was singing along, swaying her hips and having a good time. It was such a lovely sight to come home to and he wanted to burn it into his brain for the rest of his days.

She turned around, yelping loudly with a hand flying to her chest as he watched her with a fond grin. It took her a moment for her brain to register what she was seeing but then her eyes widened, a face splitting grin on her lips before she squealed and ran around the counter. He dropped his duffle bag just in time to catch her, lifting her up as her legs wrapped around his waist. 

He felt the same feeling he had after getting home with his last deployment, like his thirst was being quenched after being denied water for far too long. He held her close, greedily inhaling her scent as he nuzzled the side of her face. She pulled her head away to look down at him and his heart felt like it expanded in size at the look she gave him. She gripped either side of his face with her small hands, looking at him like she wasn't sure he was real. 

“Hello, love,” he murmured and her eyes turned glassy, her smile watery. 

“I missed you,” she didn't give him time to respond because her lips were then on his. He sighed softly, body relaxing as he kissed her back and enjoyed the comfort it brought him. When she pulled away, he couldn't tear his eyes off her.

“I missed you too,” he breathed, glad to be finally back with her. “Somethin’ smells good,” he commented, his stomach growling at the sweet scent filling the apartment. 

“Cinnamon rolls, your mum taught me how to make them,” a deep and steadying warmth wrapped around him at her words, something tugging in his chest at the idea of his mum being here and taking care of her, of teaching her things. She looked so proud of herself too. She wriggled until he let her go and he instantly felt the loss of her against him, watching as she rushed over to the kitchen. 

“Sit down, I’ll be over in a minute,” she smiled over her shoulder at him and he complied simply because he felt ready to pass out. He groaned as the couch swallowed him whole, sinking deeper into the cushions as his body started to relax thoroughly. She came over not too long later with a cinnamon roll in her hand and a can of Guinness. He raised a brow at her with an amused smile and she snorted, handing them over to him.

“Didn’t know when you’d be back, figured I'd get some in for you,” she explained sheepishly. 

“Appreciate it, love,” he murmured, popping the can open and taking a long swig of it with a content sigh. He took a large bite of the cinnamon roll, eyes practically rolling back into his head with how amazing it tasted. 

“Good then?” she asked hopefully and he nodded eagerly, munching the rest of it easily.

“Perfect,” he hummed, licking the icing off his fingers that was still wet. He presumed she’d just put it on when she was in the kitchen. She beamed a smile at him, so pretty it fucking hurt him. That smile was the only thing in his mind when the SAS was putting him through the ringer, making sure he wouldn't spill his secrets to the enemy. He knew he was strong willed, growing up with an abusive father would do that to you, but she’d strengthened his resolve even more. She’d helped him get through the whole ordeal, the prospect of getting back to her and making her proud driving him on.

“How did it go then? Was it hard? Did they hurt you?” she asked, hovering so close she might as well be on top of him, not that he’d complain at all. 

“Was alright, bit rough but I got through it. Made it through top five,” he couldn't help the pride in his voice knowing not only did he get through, but he ranked high up enough to get noticed. Her face lit up with a wide smile and his pride flared even more. 

“I knew you could do it!” she grinned and his heart stuttered in his chest. She leaned over, pressing her lips to his sweetly, making him melt all over again. When she pulled away, her eyes scanned his tired face as he blinked slowly at her and she smiled sweetly at him, taking the can from his hand and putting it on the coffee table.

“You wanna go to bed? You look shattered,” she murmured, her hand running through his short hair and making him shiver slightly. Part of him wanted to protest because he’d only just got home, felt like he’d spent no time with her. He was tired though and laying in bed with her wrapped around him sounded divine right about now. He had plans for the next day anyway and he knew he needed the rest.

“Sounds good, love,” he smiled and she nodded as she got up. She was already ready for bed and he stripped off to just his boxers before heavily flopping into bed. She wasted no time crawling in beside him, giggling when he snaked his arms around her and pulled her to lay her head on his chest. She wrapped a leg around him and he felt an overwhelming comfort at feeling her pressed against him like this. The last ten months had been hell trying to sleep without her.

“I love you so much,” he muttered sleepily, feeling her smile against his chest.

“I love you too,” she replied softly, snuggling closer to him. Having her so close, being able to feel her, smell her, it soothed all of his fried nerves and his body finally felt safe, finally felt okay to relax and let go. He drifted off to sleep easily, better than he had in months. 

“Riley, CO wants you.”

Simon looked over at the man who he couldn't seem to place, someone a little higher up than he was here. He nodded, wondering what he’d done to call the attention of his superior, hoping he hadn’t fucked up somehow since he was new here. He’d felt secure in his place in the army, knowing his squad and his CO there well. This was different and it was strange to be back at the start all over again, even if he was still ranked as a Sergeant. He made his way to his CO’s office, back straight, head held high. He was pretty sure he hadn’t messed up so he wondered what he wanted, hoped it wasn't about a deployment so soon. Lottie would kill him. 

He knocked on the wooden door and heard the man tell him to come in. He walked inside, standing at the other side of the desk, looking at the older man with greying hair.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked, feeling a pinch of nerves when the man frowned in a weird way. A pitying way.

“Sit down, son,” he ordered and something in his tone set Simon on edge, so much so that he ignored his CO’s order. 

“What is it?” he asked warily and the man heaved a sigh, running a hand over his weary face.

“You need to go to the hospital. They called and need you to identify a body,” he informed him and suddenly, Simon's world stopped turning. A body. Someone was dead.

“Who is it? My mum? Is it Charlotte?” he asked rapidly, swaying on his feet as his blood pressure skyrocketed. His CO stood up, rushing over to him and steadying him where he stood.

“They wouldn't tell me, Simon, I’m sorry. You just need to get over there,” he frowned sadly and Simon was sure he’d throw up. 

Everything was a blur. One minute he was in his CO’s office, the next he was standing in the hallway of the hospital. He wasn't sure how he even got here, his brain completely shutting down on him. The sign on the door in front of him said morgue and his chest caved in, ragged with his rough breathing. He pushed the door open, his lower lip wobbling at the table lay out there, someone under a sheet. He couldn't breathe, pitiful noises leaving his lips as he took slow steps towards the sheet. 

“Are you ready, Mr Riley?” he looked up, seeing a woman in a hospital uniform giving him a sad look, standing at the head of the body. He wanted to say no, wanted to tell her he couldn’t face knowing whoever was under there was dead, because no matter who it was, it would ruin him. He nodded his head though, needing to know. She pulled the sheet down, revealing his precious angel and the noise he made was that of a wounded animal. 

“No… no, no, no,” he wept, stumbling over to her as he shook his head frantically. She looked so peaceful as she lay there, serene, as if she was in a deep sleep. She couldn't be dead, she couldn't be, it wasn't fair. Deep gut wrenching sobs ripped out of his throat as he cradled her face. Her skin was ice cold and he internally begged her to wake up, for it all to be a dream. 

“Come on, Simon, what you being mard for?” a rough voice asked him and he tearfully whipped around to see none other than his weathered father standing there. Something was very wrong though because Simon had to look up to see him, not down at him like the last time he’d seen him. He frowned in confusion, turning back to the table with Lottie on it, only to be a few foot shorter. He yelped, a hard hand gripping the back of his neck harshly and jostling his body.

“Stop your whinin’, you stupid boy! Laugh!” his father bellowed, shoving him closer to the body of his beloved. 

“Dad, no! Stop!” he pleaded, his voice nothing like that he was used to, not anymore. His dad pressed his face against Charlotte’s, only now she didn't look serene, she didn't look peaceful. Her dead eyes were wide open in terror, mouth contorted in an unnatural way. He started yelling, pushing back the hold his dad had on him as his dad started to laugh like a man deranged. 

“Stop it! Please, stop!” he begged, tears streaming down his face as he couldn't fight against his fathers hold on him, couldn't get away.

He flew up with a heaving gasp, his lungs burning and his body on fire. There was a loud pitch ringing in his ears and he felt like he couldn't breathe. Suddenly, he felt hands grabbing at him, making him panic and lurch away. It caused him to fall off his side of the bed with a thud. He blinked slowly at the dark ceiling and then squinted when the bedroom light came to life with no warning. The ringing in his ears started to subside, his breathing regulating a little, but then Charlotte came into view, peering down at him in concern and he felt shame and embarrassment worm its way so deep inside of him that it was rotting his bones. 

A nightmare, of course it was. Or more like a nightmare mixed with a memory. How fucked was that then? He'd not had a single nightmare since he'd started his relationship with Charlotte, since the very first night they fucking met. It had been a pure relief for him, reprieve from the torment that always seemed to plague him. She'd made it all better, taken away his past pain, but now they decided to start back up. 

He knew why, he wasn't fucking stupid. The stress of his SAS training had cracked his fucking dome in, ripped down the walls that Charlotte had so lovingly put up for him to keep his nightmares at bay. The nightmare might not have been about the torture he endured in training but he knew that's what triggered it. 

It wasn't that he did badly, in fact he passed with flying colours unlike some of the other hopefuls that wound up too traumatised to carry on. But it was brutal and there wasn't a single SAS soldier alive who could say they came out of that training without some mental fucking scars. It had ripped barely healed wounds right open for him and he felt so disgusted with himself. He felt weak and it was only made worse by the barely concealed pity in his girl's eyes. He never wanted her to look at him like that. Like she felt fucking sorry for him. He was better than this, stronger. 

“Are you okay?” She asked sweetly, her voice low and calm like she was talking to a spooked animal. It poked at the raw wound pulsating in his chest and he felt an uncomfortable heat building inside of him. She held her hand out for him and he ignored it as he hopped to his feet. He could feel his face burning in shame as he refused to look at her.

“I'm fine,” he bit out, needing desperately to get away from her and those sad blue eyes. He started stomping off and out of the room, hearing her rushed footsteps behind him. 

“Simon…“ she murmured, pity and worry coating her words like she didn't know what to say and he couldn't take it. 

“I said I'm fuckin' fine! Just leave it!” He snapped, rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door so hard, the mirror above the sink wobbled. 

Regret hit him like a freight train instantly at talking to her like that and he gripped the edge of the sink, lowering his head as he heaved ragged breaths. She didn't deserve that, she just wanted to help him. Had a heart of fucking gold and he just ripped it to shreds. He hated himself. Hated himself more when he heard a pitiful sniffle from outside the door where he'd left her and his chest felt like it was caving in on himself. What a bastard he was, just like his dad. The rage flowed through him to such a degree it worried him, the urge to punch the mirror and shatter the useless piece of shit staring back at him. He pushed it down though, taking long and deep breaths as he tried to allow the feelings to pass. His poor sweet girl. Fuck. 

He scrubbed at his eyes, feeling sick when he found them damp and he shook his head. It wasn't her fault his father had been a mean bastard. Wasn't her fault that even though he wasn't a weak boy anymore that his past still haunted him. He didn't want to be that monster, didn't want to be his fucking father. He was better than that, he knew he was. He still felt that lingering grief at losing her that his nightmare had evoked. It felt so real, that loss of her, so harrowing he knew he’d fucking off himself if that ever happened. His life wouldn't be worth living. 

With a shaky breath and heavy chest, he pushed open the bathroom door. As he walked out, he saw Charlotte in the kitchen in only his shirt that swamped her. Her back was to him as she fussed over a cup and he noticed it was his cup, she didn't have one. He'd bit her head off and here she was, making him a fucking brew. And he knew before he even said anything she was blaming herself, somehow justifying his bullshit as her fault, that she deserved it and it made him feel nasty inside. Made him feel like a vile cunt for contributing to her already ruined self esteem. She hadn't noticed him as she stirred the tea and his heart clenched when her spare hand wiped quickly at her eyes. 

“Love…” he murmured contritely, shame weighing on him heavily only this time it was less to do with embarrassing himself. She whipped around to look at him and he wanted to strangle himself at her red rimmed and glassy eyes. 

“Are you-” she started as if on instinct but then her mouth clamped shut like she didn't want another earful off him. It made his shoulders slump as he carefully approached her. “I-I made you tea,” she muttered with a wobbly voice, forcing a smile for him as she grabbed the cup. He winced, eyes burning as he blinked quickly. 

“I'm sorry,” he breathed tearfully, his voice cracking as he looked at her and how unsure she seemed to be around him. She looked at him and then the cup still in her hands, shifting on her feet. 

“It's okay, you were going through stuff,” she shrugged with a shake of her head and he frowned. He grabbed the cup from her hand and put it on the counter, causing her to look at him warily. He grasped at one of her hands, pressing it against his chest where his ruthless heart lay beating steadily. 

“Don't do that. Don't ever make excuses for me when I act like a bastard, Charlotte. You never deserve me to snap at you like that,” he insisted firmly. He wouldn't do this to her, wouldn't become his father, wouldn't be a mean twat. He wouldn't tear her to pieces like a piece of paper. She looked uncomfortable and he knew her brain was having a hard time with accepting his words, always thinking she was at fault. He was grateful she didn't argue with him though, he didn't have it in him right now. She nodded, her thumb rubbing against his chest soothingly. 

“I forgive you,” she whispered and while he felt relieved, he still felt like a bastard about it because he knew she'd forgive him no matter what he did. Knew she'd never hold him responsible for fucking anything. 

“I love you,” his voice sounded pleading almost, but for what he didn't know. He hurt her and he needed her to know that he loved her more than anything. A pretty smile graced her face and she took his limply hanging hand. She mimicked him, pressing it against her heart that he could feel fluttering against his hand. 

“I love you too. And I'm always here, whether you need someone to talk to or you need space. Just let me know,” she said quietly and he knew she was right. He'd always kept his work away from her and he still intended to but she deserved to know what upset him like this. While nightmares were something he was used to, Charlotte wasn't aware of that. This was new for her to see him this way because she usually kept them away. 

He grabbed his cup with one hand, her hand with the other before he led her to the couch. He set his tea on the coffee table before sitting down and tugging her to sit with him. As she went to sit next to him, he grabbed her hips and pulled her to straddle him. She came willingly, settling against his chest like she belonged there, her head lay on his shoulder and her nose against his neck. His arms encircled her instantly, seeking out closeness and comfort. 

Maybe it wasn't a bad thing to go to her after something like this, instead of pushing her away. He felt his muscles relax instantly under her touch. She waited patiently as she lay there with him, her fingers drawing patterns on his bare chest and he allowed one of his hands to slide up her back under his shirt she was wearing, wanting to feel her skin. 

“It was a nightmare,” he started with a low voice and it felt like she pressed herself closer at his admission.

“Was it the training?” She asked in a whisper, her voice caring and gentle. He pressed his nose against her head, breathing in her scent deeply and allowing it to soothe him.

“Was and it wasn't. Wasn't about what happened there but… but it dragged a lot of shit up for me. Stuff with my dad,” he admitted. He could feel his cheeks heat up at talking about it so openly despite the fact she already knew about his father. She moved to sit up then as if sensing the gravity of the conversation. 

She gave him a soft look as her hands smoothed up his chest. His hands wandered her body before settling on her thighs, rubbing and squeezing them like they were a squishy stress toy. He could have left it at that admission and be done with it, she wasn't prying for more information, but he found himself wanting to tell her, needing to get the poison out of his system once and for all. 

“You know what he was like, the shit he did, but… one of the worst was… He took me to this metal concert, a band he liked. Drug use was just part and parcel of bein' there. At one point I couldn't find him so I went lookin’... Found him in the bathroom with a prostitute. They were shootin’ up in one of the stalls, only… only she was fuckin' dead. OD’d on the bullshit. And my dad, he… he found it fuckin' hilarious, forced me to stare at her, force me to laugh at her dead body,” he grit out, eyes unseeing for a moment as he felt the same feelings he felt all those years ago. Fear, disgust, shame, sadness. His dad hadn't saw any worth in the woman just because she was a sex worker but she was someone's daughter. Maybe someone sister or mother or aunt. She was a person and he'd been forced to look at her lifeless body and laugh like she was nothing but the butt of a bad joke. He couldn't bring himself to tell her his nightmare was a twist of that memory, that she’d been dead instead of the prostitute. 

He was dragged out of his miserable thoughts when Charlotte's warm hands cupped his cheeks, making his dark eyes snap to hers. Her brows were pinched together as her thumbs swiped over his cheeks. 

“You didn't deserve to go through that,” she muttered and his fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs at the concern in her eyes. It wasn't so much pity as just not liking the fact he'd been through something like that. The same feelings he had when thinking of her past. 

“I really hope I get to meet him one day so I can kick him in the nuts,” she huffed, a scowl on her pretty face. Despite everything, his lips quirked up at the image she’d provided him with. He knew she couldn't hurt a fly, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. 

“You gonna beat him up for me?” he asked in amusement and she gave him a wry grin.

“Damn right I will,” she said firmly and his smile widened. Fuck, he loved her. How she managed to bring him back from the brink of his own dark mind was beyond him. He wasn't sure how he’d cope if he didn't have her in his life. One of his hands left her thigh, moving to cup her cheek. He enjoyed how she always leaned into his touch.

“You mean the world to me, love,” he murmured, eyes shining at her affectionately. He was sure he looked moon eyed as he gazed at her, nothing but a lovesick fool. The prettiest smile painted her lips and he was breathless, struck by how absolutely stunning she was. And she was all his. She leaned in, pecking his lips with a sweet kiss as she smiled at him.

“You mean the world to me too.” He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve her love but he was damn sure gonna keep it. He’d do whatever it took to keep her by his side. His nightmare had been harrowingly realistic and he’d felt every emotion as if it had played out in real life. He knew what it felt like to lose her and he didn't think he’d ever shake that feeling for as long as he lived. He took comfort in her weight on him, in feeling her warm breath fanning his neck as she tucked herself neatly there, at feeling her chest expand with each breath, pressing against his. He’d make sure he never felt that feeling again.

When Simon woke up the next morning, his neck was stiff as a board. It took him a moment to get his bearings, realising he was asleep lay on the couch. The night before came back to him, the nightmare, Charlotte comforting him. They’d stayed on the couch all night and she’d wound up getting her Grimm’s book, reading to him. He must have fallen asleep. But now he was wondering where the hell she was and he sat up, looking over the couch and seeing her flitting about in the kitchen. He groaned softly, stretching his sore muscles from the way he’d slept and he felt bad for falling asleep on her like that, for waking her up with his nightmare to begin with. He stood up, rubbing his tired eyes as he padded into the kitchen. 

She looked over at him, radiant smile on her lips that always punched him in the chest every time he saw it. She was wearing just one of his shirts and he knew it was his favourite outfit on her. 

“Good mornin’, love,” he murmured, his voice slightly raspy from sleep. 

“Good afternoon,” she replied wryly, a smirk tugging at her lips as his brows shot up. He looked at the clock quickly, seeing it was indeed 12.46 pm. He hadn’t realised he’d slept for so long but fuck knows, he needed it. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he frowned, feeling bad about waking up so late. 

“Don’t be. You were proper knackered, especially after… waking up like you did. You needed the rest,” she smiled sweetly at him. He noticed the pan then and the smell of eggs and he felt a tugging in his chest.

“Eggy bread?” he asked hoarsely, so many memories hitting him all at once it made his head spin. The little smile on her face made him think she was aware of what was going on in his head.

“Your mum taught me how to make it. She said she’d try and make it for you and Tommy on special occasions, so…” she trailed off, looking somewhat uncertain. The tugging in his chest got worse and worse, the gesture touching him. He had so many lovely memories tied to this simple dish, memories of his mother trying her best for him and his brother, despite their awful father. 

“What we celebratin’, then?” he asked curiously, trying to rid the emotion clogging up his throat. She gave him a funny look, tilting her head at him.

“You,” she said simply and he just blinked at her. “You being back here, you getting through the SAS stuff with flying colours,” she added softly and he felt his ears burning at the tips. The idea of being celebrated was foreign to him, especially if it wasn't his birthday, but it touched him and he smiled down at her. 

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, making her beam a smile at him. He was excited for the food, he hadn't had it in a while and he always enjoyed it. 

“You're welcome. You can get something on if you want, it's almost done,” she grinned, gesturing to his state of undress in just his boxers. He did have plans for the day she was unaware of so it would do him good to get dressed. He leaned down, kissing her lips with a smile before he sauntered off to the bedroom. 

The bed was neatly made now, unlike the disarray he left it in after his nightmare. Everything was back where it should be. He got himself into some dark jeans and the sage green jumper she’d bought him at some point. She really loved him in jumpers apparently. He came out as she was plating up and his stomach growled loudly as he moved to sit at the dining table. A plate full of eggy bread and beans was placed in front of him and he didn't even wait for her, digging in and making her laugh at him. She joined him, her own plate with the same but a little less food as they ate together. It was so nostalgic for him, remembering every birthday he and Tommy had where his mother managed to make it for them. It had become a routine and one he’d cherished as a child. 

He couldn't help but steal glances at her as they ate, wondering if she was even real. He had half a mind to think he was in some insane asylum somewhere and this whole thing was a figment of his imagination. How was it possible for someone to be so kind and caring, to be so loving and giving? 

“What?” she asked after catching him, wiping her face as if she thought she had food there. 

“Nothin’, you're just…” he trailed off, nerves and excitement blooming in his stomach at the plans he had for the day, his feelings for her only getting stronger with each passing second he spent with her. 

“I’m just what?” she asked, eyeing him warily and he smiled warmly at her.

“Perfect,” he supplied simply. She flushed delightfully, looking down with a bashful smile on her face.

“We’ve been over this,” she rolled her eyes playfully but her blush didn't ease. He wanted to launch himself over the table and fuck her into next week when she looked all coy and shy like this. Wanted to make her sing.

“Yeah, yeah. No one’s perfect and all that. Except that's a load of bollocks, ‘cause you are,” he argued with a smirk and he didn't think it was possible, but she blushed even harder. 

She wouldn’t look at him for a moment, a shy smile she was trying to suppress still on her face. When she lifted those beautiful blue eyes to his, he wanted to drop to his knees in reverence to her. 

“If I’m perfect, then so are you,” she muttered, almost pouting and he chuckled at her. He wasn't going to argue with her because he knew she wouldn't hear any of it. If he had to go along with her bullshit so she’d accept a bloody compliment off him then he’d do it. They finished their food off with shared smiles and blushes on her part. before he got up, taking both their plates over to the sink and ignoring Lottie’s protests as he did.

“Get your arse dressed, got some shit planned,” he ordered from the sink, not even looking at her as his nerves expanded from his stomach to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“Oooh, where are we going?” she asked excitedly and he was surprised when she suddenly wrapped her arms around him from behind. She’d really turned the tables on him since this was what he usually liked to do to her and he knew it must of looked bonkers from the other side with her being so small. He smiled to himself as her hands slid up his jumper, smoothing up his muscles and drawing a happy little hum from her. 

“Not tellin’ you, so get dressed,” he smirked and she heaved a large sigh, resting her forehead on his back.

“Fine,” she almost whined but he could hear the smile in her voice even if he couldn’t see it. A kiss was placed on his back before her arms disappeared and he found himself longing for her again already. Was mad how he fucking missed her even though she was right there, how the fuck did that work?

As she dressed, he got the kitchen nice and clean, putting everything away when he was done. He noticed something on the fridge then that he hadn't noticed the night before, being as tired as he was. It was a picture tacked to the fridge with a little heart magnet and the picture made his heart stutter against his ribs. It was a picture of Lottie holding little Joseph. He hadn't seen the boy since he got back yet but he’d grown already so much. By Simon’s calculations, he’d be 11 months now. He wondered what milestones he’d missed, was he walking yet? Joseph was sitting on Lottie’s knee with a precious smile on his chubby little face and Lottie was looking at him like he was the second coming of Christ. It was the same look she’d worn at the hospital when she looked at him, now encapsulated in a photograph. It stirred so many feelings in him as he looked at it.

“Me, Beth and Jo went to town, had dinner at Cafe Metro. Beth took the picture, I didn't even realise she’d taken it until after she had it printed.” He jumped, not even hearing her come back in and he whipped around to see her now dressed. 

She was wearing an outfit he hadn’t been privy to yet and he wondered if she'd gotten it when he was away. The skirt was black, high waisted and long, reaching her calves and fitted to her silhouette exquisitely, a slit going up the side no doubt to help her walk with ease. She’d put on some black tights and her top was a cropped jumper, the colour almost matching his with the pretty green colour she loved so much. The amused smirk on her face had him wondering if she’d picked it to match him on purpose. 

“Is this okay?” she asked as she looked down at herself, still having no idea what he had planned. A hum reverberated low in his throat and he grasped her hips, pulling her closer to him greedily and making her giggle as her hands spread over his chest.

“Perfect. Love the skirt,” he hadn’t meant it to but his voice came out a mere growl as his hands slid around to her arse. The skirt hugged her perfectly and he was enjoying how it clung to her curves. 

“Remind me to wear it again, then,” she grinned cheekily, perching up on her tiptoes to give him a slow and languid kiss that set his blood on fire. He hadn’t taken her since he got back yet and as much as he wanted to put her over the table and rut into her until she was sobbing with pleasure, they had shit to do. 

“Stop distractin’ me, you little minx. Shoes and coat on,” he ordered, giving her arse a smack for good measure before ushering her off. She laughed as she moved away, eyes twinkling with mischief as she went off to do as she was told, pulling her Docs on with her leather jacket. He moved to put his hoodie on before slipping off into the bedroom. 

He shut the door before quickly hurrying over to his duffel bag by the bed that he still hadn’t emptied. He crouched, tilting his head to keep his ear out for a moment and when he couldn't hear Lottie at all, he unzipped the bag and rummaged around at the bottom of it. Once he found what he was looking for, he grabbed it, slipping it into his pocket. When he left the room, his girl was fully ready and patiently waiting for him. She shot him a beautiful smile as he approached and he smiled back, unable not to when she made his chest so warm.

“Ready?” he asked her, getting a nod in return.

“Ready.”

He was stalling and he knew he was but he really couldn't help it, not when nerves kept seizing his limbs in a vice. It wasn't that he was having second thoughts, his mind was firmly set and nothing would change that, but how the fuck was he to know how she’d react? That was the terrifying part, to put himself out there so openly and be rejected. He knew she loved him, he didn’t doubt that for a second but it didn’t mean she would go along with his crazy fucking plan now, did it? They were in the city centre and he’d taken her shopping. She’d outright refused at first, telling him they were supposed to be celebrating him and not her, but he promptly told her that since they were celebrating him, he should be able to do whatever he wanted, including spoiling his girlfriend. That had shut her up for a bit. He loved spoiling her though and eventually, she’d given in, knowing there was no use in fighting him and allowed him to just buy her shit. 

They’d gotten some Lush, easing her mind a little when he told her he fully expected to get in those baths with her and enjoy the bath bombs and bubble bars she’d gotten. He got her some clothes but she didn't want much, said the clothes weren’t worth the money and he had to admit he agreed, even if she did force him to treat himself to some bits and pieces. They’d sat in Waterstones too for a bit, gathering a small collection of books for the pair of them and enjoying the quiet atmosphere in there as they perused the shelves. 

It was a nice day, calming, to just walk about with her like this. But as the day had worn on, that biting anxiety had started to get more and more intense until he couldn't ignore it. Couldn’t ignore it when he took her to the same Italian place they’d gone to all that time ago. She’d been so happy about it and he’d spent the entire time feeling like he might pass out with how light headed he was feeling. She’d picked up on it embarrassingly enough. Apparently he looked pale and worse for wear and he’d lied right to her face, told her he was just feeling under the weather. Felt like a right bastard when she’d taken his hand across the table and suggested they go home so she could look after him. He only agreed because he needed to get this over with. The longer he waited, the worse these feelings would be and he really didn’t want to fuck the whole thing up because he was panicking. Knowing the potential to ruin absolutely everything, he was losing his damn mind. 

“Are we not getting the bus?” she asked softly, her hand clasping his as they strolled down the dark street. The lamp posts were the only thing illuminating it, giving it a slightly yellow tinge. 

“Yeah, just not this one,” he murmured and she looked at him with realisation and a pretty smile, curling her other hand around his arm, practically hugging it. 

“Are we taking a trip down memory lane?” she asked cheekily, fluttering those long lashes at him. It always surprised him that all he had to do was look at her and he remembered he was a fucking goner for her. Absolutely done in, had no chance. 

“Maybe,” he replied, making her smile widen as she leaned her head on his arm for a moment. 

She was practically clinging to him and he was soaking every little bit of her affection up. When they got to the same bus stop he met her at, the feelings inside his chest were whirling around like a hurricane. He watched her, completely enraptured as she looked around, not having been here in a bit. Was nothing remarkable, just a fucking bus stop, but it changed everything. She made a move to sit at the bench but his hand tightened around hers, pulling her back over to him as she blinked up at him in question.

“I… think about this bus stop a lot,” he confessed, his heart thumping hard against his chest. “It’s mad really… I coulda gone to any one of ‘em, yet… I was here and then you came along.” he hadn't really prepared a speech. God knows he bloody tried but this kind of stuff didn't come easy to him and he’d given up trying to script it, decided to just wing it but now he wasn't sure his words were the right ones or that it was coming out the way he wanted it to. His free hand moved to stroke her cheek as she looked at him with those wide and loving eyes, a sweet smile toying on her lips.

“I’m really glad you chose this bus top,” she murmured as she gave his hand a squeeze. He smiled but it was shaky, much like his breathing as he stepped even closer to her, his thumb swiping over her slightly flushed cheek. He needed to just get it out of him, purge it from his system and so the flood gates opened and the words just tumbled right out of him.

“You know I’m not good with words. I wish I could tell you just how much you mean to me but I don’t think there's any words in the English language to do it justice. Tellin’ you that I love you just doesn't feel enough. You came into my life with all your light and chased all the shadows away, you gave me things I never thought I wanted or deserved. I didn't think… I never thought I could love like I do with you, never thought I could be loved. You’ve changed my life completely and I’m a better man for it, for you. I realised somethin’ back before I went off for selection, fuckin’ hit me like a freight train and then I couldn’t shake it. I knew I wanted this, us, you, forever. I knew that you're it for me, all I’ll ever need,” she was watching him intently, eyes shining slightly as she looked at him like she couldn't quite comprehend his words and he knew her insecure brain was probably trying to wrap her head around it. He took a deep and shaky inhale, letting go of her hand and her face, making her brows furrow slightly. 

“Charlotte… I… fuck… “ his heart was galloping a mile a minute and he could feel his pulse in his neck. He was sure he was about to keel over from a medical emergency with the way his body was carrying on. He wanted to continue his grand speech, wanted to keep declaring his undying love for her but the words got stuck in his throat as he felt his blood pressure skyrocket. He shoved his hand in his pocket, grabbing what was in there before he dropped down heavily to one knee, opening the box to reveal a silver ring with a diamond in the centre. 

“Will you marry me, love?” his voice was bordering on hysterical pleading as his wide eyes implored at her from where he kneeled. The rapid beating of his heart only increased when she stared at him unblinking and he started to worry he’d made a colossal mistake by doing this. Maybe it was too soon, maybe she didn't even want to get married, he’d never bothered to ask her thoughts on the subject because he didn't think he was the marrying type himself. 

“You… you wanna marry me?” he was broken out of his musings by her soft and incredulous voice and he was just glad she started blinking again.

“Would be mental not to,” he confessed quietly, meaning his words wholeheartedly. His heart was in his throat, completely at her mercy on the floor with his beating heart in her hands. Despite his concern of her crushing it right before his eyes, soft tears fell down her pretty cheeks, a radiant smile curling her lips.

“Yes,” she laughed tearfully and he blinked dumbly at her for a moment, sure he’d heard wrong.

“Yes?” he breathed, hope coating his tone painfully. She wiped her eyes with a laugh, her smile the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

“Yeah,” she grinned. The feeling that exploded inside of him felt like a mini heart attack. He couldn't even put it into words, happiness felt too menial of a word. He’d never felt anything quite like this feeling of pure elation and he had a smile of his own on his face, grabbing her hand once she gave it to him and putting the ring on her finger with a shaky hand. He practically bounced up to his feet before capturing her lips in a desperate kiss that she eagerly melted into. She said yes. She was going to be his wife, he was going to fucking marry her. Charlotte Riley, he really liked the sound of that.

[gayazrael]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: League of Legends Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Shieda Kayn/Jarvan Lightshield IV, Katarina Du Couteau/Yasuo, Shieda Kayn & Katarina Du Couteau, Katarina Du Couteau & Jarvan Lightshield IV Characters: Shieda Kayn, Jarvan Lightshield IV, Katarina Du Couteau, Yasuo (League of Legends), Rhaast (League of Legends), General Marcus du Couteau, Jericho Swain, Sona Buvelle, Jinx (League of Legends), Viktor (League of Legends), Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, cosmic horror, Trans Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Odyssey AU, Pining, Mutual Pining

Summary:

Concerning the rise and fall of Ordinal Shieda Kayn, the hardships of cultivating a secret love for the most powerful man in the universe... and the fatal lure of absolute power.

[aberfaeth]

we don’t have to figure out what hasn’t happened yet

[Trees Nuts reunite for dinner, post Battle for the Cosmos.]

The six of them meet at a restaurant south of the tournament stadium, “A couple blocks away from the apartment,” Sestia says, through half a mouthful of garlic naan. Ekon can’t blame her. It’s truly fantastic garlic naan.

part of the sesdinikhil love languages series on ao3 by sav @grasslandgirl and i!

you can read it on ao3 here!

[dirtysvthoughts]

𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER THREE

pairing: prospective club owner! joshua x stripper! reader

word count: 2.2k

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, worldbuilding before the dirty stuff (be patient 😉), female! reader, mildly cocky! shua, dom! shua, power play/brat! reader, full nudity for reader, use of pet names (love, baby, sweetheart), shua tries to get reader to fall for him but to no avail (or yes avail?)

playlist songs: special affair - the internet, give me head - sweet the kid, na na - trey songz

notes: chapter 3 baybeeeee! sorry this took so long, but it’s finally here! i’m gonna start working on chapter 4 and that should be done vv soon! hope you enjoy besties!

taglist: @im-gemmy @enhacolor @hooniewnderland @svtup @kawaiikels @weeevrse @diorsfxck @kyexvly @woozarts @ifuckcheol @marsstarxhwa @haoxiaoba

“and i’m telling you, i don’t need any help, take your service elsewhere,” your boss, mia, says over the phone, curtly hanging it up afterwards. “fucking nuisance,” she mumbles under her breath as you enter her office.

“somethin’ happen?” you say as you shut the door behind you, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“shouldn’t you be getting ready, sage?” mia says not even looking in your direction, fiddling with whatever paperwork is in front of her.

you roll your eyes, “it’s 5 PM, i only came here early to practice my new routine. plus, i needed to ask you something, but then i overheard you. you know i’m one of the few people you actually trust here. so seriously, what was that all about?”

she stops messing with the papers and finally directs her eyes towards you, breathing a heavy sigh. “okay, so you know the club has a few more debt payments before i can solely own this place right? well, this man i was on the phone with can more than likely wipe away the rest of the debt with a snap of a finger.”

“so if he can do that, why would you tell him to fuck off? i don’t get it.”

“because he wants to own majority of the business! all of the creative decisions, finances, even down to the dancers’ employment would be his decision. i’m not doing that! i’ve worked way too hard to get to where illusion is today. and do you know how many strip club owners are women? not a whole lot. this is my pride.”

you both sit in a minute of silence, her words repeating in your mind. she was right, so much went into this club and those who weren’t on the pole proved that a club could run without a man’s help or approval. and you knew your boss wasn’t desperate enough to give in just yet.

“well no one but you is gonna run club illusion. fuck another owner or a co-owner,” you firmly say as mia shakes her head and smiles, now directing her attention at her desktop, moving her mouse around.

“why do i like you so much, sage?”

“i dunno, i guess i have that effect on people,” you smile as you push your hair back, opening the door so you could start getting ready.

“by the way,” you say with one foot out the door, “what was the guy’s name?”

“somethin’ hong, i kept forgetting the name, why? does it ring a bell?”

“nah, just wanna have a name in mind just in case he shows up, you know they like doing that.”

“well let’s hope not,” she groans as she stretches her arms out. “i really don’t need the extra stress - i can already tell tonight’s gonna be extra for no reason.”

and crazy enough, your boss was right. security had to break up two fights, one of the dancers ended up getting sent home (she was overly drunk), and a bartender ended up quitting - all in the span of four hours.

you look at the clock on the wall, readjusting your bodysuit straps and making sure your makeup was still intact. it was finally midnight, which hopefully meant the rest of the night would be better until it was time for the club to close.

“crazy ass night huh?” your closest friend and fellow dancer, hana (also known as chardonnay) approaches you. she finds her makeup kit and grabs a brush, dolling up her face.

“who are you tellin? and it’s only thursday! if heads into the weekend,” you say but hana finishes your thoughts.

“oh hello no, do not manifest that energy. this weekend can be busy, but not crazy,” she puts her kit back in her corner and checks herself out.

min then walks into the dressing room, hastily scanning the area for one person. “hana!” she calls out, slightly panicking. “you have a whole party waiting for you and you’re talking in the dressing room?”

“i know min, i just had to make sure i was ready, sheesh,” hana rolls her eyes. “gimme five and i’ll be out. they can wait.”

“you better hurry up,” min says walking away, “mia already has had to deal with a lot of shit and i’m pretty sure the last thing she wants to deal with is y’all acting out.” she closes the door behind her and the music becomes muffled again.

“lemme head out there before even more hell gets raised,” hana sighs as she switches her clear heels for her champagne-colored ones. “i guess i’ll see you out there in a bit.” she and a few others leave the room, leaving the space nearly empty.

——

after checking yourself out, you finally head back on to the scene, deciding to walk around and look for clientele since you already performed on the main stage for tonight.

as you get deeper into the center, you notice a figure at one of the small, standing tables. intrigued, you walked closer and your body can’t deny it’s reaction when you see how handsome he is. his dress white shirt had a few buttons opened, his black hair styled to where not all of it was in his face, and his eyes? oh you felt like you could melt in them.

when you finally get close enough, you place your hand on his shoulder and he looks up at you, putting his glass of whiskey down. “hey there,” you smile flirty at him, and he responds by smiling back at you.

“hey beautiful,” he says in the most soft, yet incredibly sexy tone. “i haven’t seen you around before, are you new here?”

“oh, so you’ve been here before,” you say going to the opposite side of the table, your eyes not leaving is. “that’s interesting, considering i’ve never seen you, i practically have a sixth sense when it comes to this place.”

“mmm, different days, different times, maybe,” he picks up his glass and takes a sip and when he puts it down, you reach for his hand and take hold of it.

“well that can’t stop us from getting to know each other better,” you rub his hands softly. “what’s your name?”

“hong. joshua hong, to be more specific,” he says. “and yours?”

you try to keep a poker face, but you fail drastically as your expression changes. “hong?” you think to yourself. “hong.. why does it sound so familiar?”

you mind then recalls the conversation with mia, and you slowly remove your hand from his. “w-wait a minute, hong? are you a club owner or something?”

“actually i am, how did-” you interrupt him by scoffing and shaking your head, not believing what could’ve happened.

“no fucking way.. you’re the man that called my boss earlier today weren’t you? about wanting to own this place?”

“yeah, that was me,” he says with all the pride he can muster and it made you a little annoyed. “this place has so much potential, and it’s becoming one of the most popular clubs in the area. with my help, it can reach that and more! everyone would benefit.”

“look, hong - whoever you are, this club is doing fine. mia didn’t need a savior before and she doesn’t need one now, especially from some cocky motherfucker who he thinks he can change everything just by walking into the room.” you walk away ready to find another customer, but he comes in front of and stops you.

“you’re bold as hell.. i love that in a partner,” joshus says grinning as he begins to kiss the side of your neck teasingly, his lips feeling like a soft pillow. your body and your mind are now drastically confused. yes, he was trying to take over the club and you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t deny your physical attraction to him either.

after a few more seconds, joshua pulls away and smirks at you, clearly enjoying the fact that you were starting to break down your walls. he takes something out of his pocket and slides it into your hand, and when you feel it - it’s a thick wad of cash.

“let’s go upstairs baby,” joshua says as he pulls you towards him, having you lead the way. watching your surroundings, you firmly grab his hand and you lead him to the vip rooms, walking up the steps and then finding the closest, empty room.

unable to hold back anymore (and away from any other eyes), you sharply pull him closer to you and smash your mouth against his, hands roaming his hair as he walks backwards. when he reaches the edge of the couch, joshua gently sits down and pulls you onto his lap, his hands now palming your ass. you lowly moan at the feeling as you begin to roll your hips into him, his touches becoming more firmer as he squeezes your cheeks.

“you couldn’t resist me, could you?” joshua laughs to himself. “just a second ago you were telling me off, and now you’re like putty in my hands.”

“fuck you,” you moan out when he starts playing with the crotch of your bodysuit, dragging two fingers over the cloth. he continues the motion until he can start to feel a familiar dampness.

“awww cute, you wanna fuck me,” he gloats, dragging his fingers into your bodysuit, playing with your inside lips. he continues the motion for a few moments and then you muster every good bone left in your body, to pry his fingers away from your now dripping core.

“fuck, i shouldn’t be doing this.. i really shouldn’t be doing this,” you say hesitantly.

“well why not? we’re already here aren’t we? no one has to know, baby. this’ll be our little secret, m’kay?”

and that was all you needed to hear. this was definitely something you’d be carrying with you to the grave.

“fine. one round and then that’s it-” you can’t even finish your sentence before joshua slams his lips once again on yours, this time with more vigor and fever.

——

for the millionth time tonight, your body and your mind are in two conflicting states. how could something this bad be so incredibly good?

“m-mmm, sh-shua,” you moan into his ear as he thrusts into you, your bodysuit completely off and his pants pooling down at his ankles. “you feel amazing,” you continue to feel him up, pressing down on his shoulders. joshua hisses at the feeling, guiding your hands down to his waist so you can see and feel what he was doing to you.

“that’s all you,” he smiles as you move a bit to match his pace, almost moaning with you at the new intensity you both set. “with me here, you could have this every night, hmmm, maybe even more than that to be real with you.”

he was really trying to get you over, but for your sake - it couldn’t happen.

“and with you here, you’d probably take out 20% of my pay,” you chuckle but it’s immediately cut off when joshua thrusts sharply into you, causing you to hunch over and moan, almost loud enough to where someone could hear you.

“i thought you needed to be quiet? you’re fucking the new potential owner, can’t have everyone finding out, right?”

“fuck, fuck, f-fuck,” you whisper, joshua not sure if that was from the sex or if you were still frustrated that your morals have gone out the window.

you feel a tightening in your core, and you knew any minute that you were about to come. as he continues to thrust into you, the coils in your become smaller and more detailed.

“joshua, shua, i- mmmm, i-!” you call out for him and moments later, you juices leak on him. you relax into his chest, regulating your breathing to a slower pace.

——

“this doesn’t mean anything you know,” your back facing him as he helps you fix the strings on your bodysuit. “i’ve already crossed some lines that i can’t return from.”

“i keep telling you sweetheart, no one has to know. you’re making it seem like you have to tell the whole world.”

several thoughts run through your mind, including ones of him railing you from behind in one of the secluded vip rooms. you try and push them out of your head when you finally speak.

“and if i did want to see you again, how would i go about that?” joshua then hands you a business card and pats your back, signifying that he was done.

“just gimme a call love.”

you both walk out the room, and he turns to face you again, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “see you soon, baby.” he walks away, leaving you dazed and in suspended motion. you almost don’t hear your name being called out.

“sage!” hana calls out to you and you walk over to her.

“who was that? he’s so fucking hot! how’d you bag him?”

you sigh as you lie through your teeth, “he’s no one special. just another customer.”

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: V

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

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

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

— Only Angel, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 34k 

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

///   

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

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

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

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

And much to his satisfaction, Harry gets just that. 

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

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

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

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

The jacuzzi sex sits at the top of that list. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I changed my mind.” 

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

“Idiot.”

“Try again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mortal swallows heavily, nodding her head a tad. 

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

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

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

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you want a repeat of that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, that’s so—so— fuck!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Say it.”

“I’m...I’m your filthy little slut.” 

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N rolls her eyes at his juvenile answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘What if’ what?”

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

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

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

“How do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you really not going, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry—”

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

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

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

“Get up. Now.” 

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

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

She obeys. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it, though, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

Harry drinks from Y/N that night. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.” 

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

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

“Karma’s a bitch, Winnie the Pooh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t help next time.” 

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

“You’re a literal child.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dickhead.”

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

“Go back to keeping your mouth shut.” 

“Mm. S’what I thought.” 

Harry keeps his sensual promise, as he always does. 

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

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

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

“Arms behind your back.” 

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

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

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

“‘Yes’ what?”

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

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

“Only for you.”  

“No one else?”

“No one else.”

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

“Go deeper. Want it all.” 

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Always.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s working his praise kink like a charm.

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

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

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

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

Harry loses it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No I don’t!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was your favorite part?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Asshole.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My pleasure. See you later, Holmes.” 

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

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

///

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

He should have gone on the trip. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is bad. This is really bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words sting for some unknown reason. 

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

“Alright.” 

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

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

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

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

“Because Fridays are our days.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right. Super classy.” 

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

“Fuck off.” 

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

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

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

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep going.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry is the first to break the tranquil atmosphere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I could have.”

“But you didn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“I refuse to take down Stevie!”

“And I refuse to take down Amanda!”

“You named it?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But could it really be worth the potential grievance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It would be my pleasure.” 

[votederpycausemufins]

me: you first started writing this story 12 days ago, take a break also me: CHAPTER 16 BAYBEEEEE

@petrichormeraki

Grian realized waiting was easy. No one was running around or trying to hurt him. People were trying to give him seeds and played music! And the voices liked how nice people were being too. But at the same time, the Watcher couldn’t help but worry. Why wasn’t Tommy back? Maybe he should go through himself. But it was a small portal. An enderman could barely fit, and to a watcher, those mobs were rather short.

What if you just got smaller? But he looks so dope like this! maybe he’s like a… i forget the animal but if he can get his head through he can get the rest through. Why’s he trying to go through anyway?; he’s basically a giant monster who’ll be attacked if he goes through. But he’s powerful. He’ll be fine!

Grian had move voices talking, and one seemed very convincing about going through the portal. Yes, it was a perfect idea. He just needed to squish himself through the frame. A number of Hermits tried to stop him as he started to move. He shook a wing as a lead caught on it. Another tried to catch him, but he moved out of the way and it managed to tie Mumbo up. Oh! He could bring Mumbo as well. Two heads would be better than one. He gave a chirpy laugh as Mumbo seemed to scream as he went through the portal. Grian followed behind, though he struggled squeezing everything through. There was a flash of white light, and then nothing.

Dream could feel the Watcher enter the world. He made sure that Tommy had no easy escape from his current prison before the former admin left the room. He walked in the direction of the portal. Everyone was here and his new piece of leverage had arrived. All that needed to happen now was destroying the portal and having the powers of admin returned to him.

Mumbo’s face hit grass as he ended up on the other side of the portal, tied up in the rope of a lead. He started to look up and had to squint at the bright sky. Had he blacked out and the storm had passed? But looking around, the only familiar thing in his vision was the infinity portal and Mumbo realized he had gone through it.

There was a squawk as Grian came through the portal. Mumbo tried to get up and reach his friend, but the fact that he was tied up had slipped his mind and he ended up just essentially wriggling around. Grian leaned down to look at him and Mumbo met the Watcher’s eyes with a gasp. Mumbo remembered when Grian was using his watcher powers, he could see how the eyes almost never looked at the same place, always focused on watching everything. The two main eyes may have just looked purple, but Mumbo could always see the symbol of the Watchers that seemed to have imprinted itself within the pupils.

But right now, all the eyes looked down at Mumbo. They all looked glossy and somewhat unfocused. Instead of their purple color they had a reddish-magenta hue and the symbol of the Watchers was absent. “G-Grian? Are you okay?”

I mean, obviously he’s not. Yessss, stare into his eyes! If Grian’s a bird, does that make Mumbo some kind of-

Mumbo immediately started to try and get out of the robes that tied him up. No. No this couldn’t be happening. He had told them no. They said they wouldn’t try again. Grian had made it very clear that Mumbo was under his claim as a Watcher. He shouldn’t be hearing voices.

After a bit more struggling, Mumbo was free. He was able to stand up and brush himself off, then start to put Grian towards the portal. “Alright Grian, back in the portal.” Grian just moved out of the way and chirped at Mumbo. “Don’t be such a spoon of a bird! In the portal!” He tried again with no luck. He was about to try again when he noticed someone approaching. Mumbo had no clue who they could be or what they might do. He had heard some of the horror stories Tommy had told, so Mumbo decided his best option was to hide.

Using Grian as a wall between him and whoever was arriving, the redstoner stayed quiet, trying to listen. He could hear them approaching, walking on the grass, and then they stopped. Mumbo nearly peeked out from behind Grian, but then they spoke. “No clue why the Watchers put up with you. You’re clearly out of your element Grian. But that being said, you’re useful. And now you’re in a world with people more like you than any of those Hermits. No reason to leave.”

Mumbo’s heart dropped as he heard what sounded like a beacon powering down and then the magic of a portal shattering. As if living in an unknown world wasn’t bad enough, now there was no escape. 

And we’re stuck here. Mumbo’s a genius, he can fix it. He’s only a genius at redstone, it’s hopeless. Maybe he-

Mumbo forced himself to stop listening. Grian had started to move and he needed to follow to stay hidden. Until they reached the nearby forest, there was no other place to hide. Mumbo slowly kept in step with Grian, creeping his way until they finally reached a tree. He used that as cover instead and to finally see what was going on.

The redstoner recognised the man donned in lime green that stood next to Grian. He was the one to show up in Hermitcraft and come after Tommy. One that many of the horror stories had been about. And for whatever reason, Grian was following behind him. Mumbo wanted to shout, to reason with Grian, but his fear for his own life kept him hidden and quiet. 

Mumbo watched as the two left, and then he felt safe enough to move. Grian had made Tubbo the admin, right? And he had made… someone else one too. But he couldn't remember their name, and Tubbo’s communicator still likely wasn’t working. Nonetheless, he tried, only to get an expected error message. Who else could he contact?

Tommy! Ranboo. Fundy might work? Tommy might be with Philza so either of them. Wilbur or Techno? Quackity! Sam. Why would you ever try Quackity? Because you can, lol. 

Mumbo didn’t know all the names, but Tommy and Philza seemed the most reasonable. Mumbo sent each of them a private message, summing up what was going on and trying to give a warning. There was no error message, but also no reply, so the redstoner could only hope they saw the messages. And then he started moving, hoping to find something to help him, like a place to stay or materials.

Dream toyed with Grian’s addled mind. If only he knew how easy it was to capacitate the dream slayer. He could hardly believe that this was what he had been terrified of for so long. He could enjoy this for a while, but right now, he needed to do what he planned to from the start. He had summoned Tubbo and Ranboo, knowing they would have their guards down. As far as they were concerned, Dream couldn’t do anything and they could do anything as admin. Oh how wrong them were.

Dream walked to another room and sat at the table, leaning back in his chair as he waited. It only took a few minutes before Ranboo and Tubbo appeared in the room. Tubbo seemed a bit disoriented from the teleport, but Ranboo as an enderman took it well. “Tubbo, Ranboo, how good to see you.”

“You should be in the vault Dream.”

“You two have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Grian made me the admin.” Tubbo spoke up, sounding confident. Dream smiled at it, he had no ideal anything he tried would be futile. Anything either of them did.

“Well, he doesn’t have to keep it that way.” Dream stood up, walking to the doors. Tubbo and Ranboo looked ready to attack, but then he opened the door.

“Grian?” Tubbo sounded hurt and worried for the Watcher. The essentially mindless beast gave a trilling coo which left the admin pair unsettled.

“Now, you have something that belongs to me.” Dream spoke. He filtered his own thoughts into the mind of the Watcher and then he could see the watcher magic flow around Tubbo and Ranboo. Dream felt energized as the admin powers were given back to him and he saw the pair grow exhausted from the energy being drawn from them. Now everything was just how it should be.

Mumbo kept chopping at trees with his netherite axe, gathering resources. He Put down an ender chest and was glad to see all the usual contents were there. He used some of the diamonds he had to craft a chestplate, thinking that would be a bit more useful. One shulker box was cleaned out of items Mumbo wasn’t completely sure he would need and instead house more essentials.

As he cut down another tree, there was a wave of energy leaving Mumbo looking around. There was nothing obvious that it could have been. It still left him on edge, and he put his supplies away, switching to his sword.

Creeping through the forest, Mumbo was prepared to attack. Even if he wasn’t the best fighter, or really a fighter at all, at least he might have an element of surprise. Above him, the sun was starting to set, helping him even more as his black suit and hair blended into the shadows. Mumbo was starting to wish he had gone to False’s sparring sessions more, but there always seemed to be one redstone project or another he thought was more important.

Light caught Mumbo’s eye and ahead he saw a fire. For a moment he thought it would be a lava lake, but there were blocks all over the place, some of sorts that couldn’t generate naturally. That could be someone’s home. Or possibly even former home. If it were the first, then Mumbo hoped it would be someone to ally with, if it were the latter, the land being abandoned could do well as a shelter.

Mumbo continued forward until finally he reached a place that seemed to be a crater. There had been some sort of explosion, destroying the place. While it made Mumbo sad to see what was likely a very nice build destroyed, it also gave him hope that it would be safe now. That was until he heard someone speaking.

“Stupid stupid stupid. Now I’m stuck here and have to rebuild and-”

Mumbo knew that voice. “Tommy!” He ran towards the blond.

“What the fuck?” He heard Tommy say before he slid down into the crater and stood next to the boy.

“Tommy, that Dream guy, he got Grian and-” Mumbo started to explain before freezing.

“Grian?” Tommy asked, staring at Mumbo with magenta eyes.

“T-Tommy?” Mumbo drew his sword. Was this some copy? A trap? What?

“Yeah, what the fuck do you want?”

“I… What’s going on? Who are you really?”

“Oi, I’m gonna ask the fucking questions.” Tommy crossed his arms. “Who are you and what are you doing in Logstedshire?”

[wetalkinboutbooks]

New Year, New Review 🤩

A Sky Beyond the Storm by Sabaa Tahir

Summary: The long-imprisoned jinn are on the attack, wreaking bloody havoc in villages and cities alike. But for the Nightbringer, vengeance on his human foes is just the beginning.

At his side, Commandant Keris Veturia declares herself Empress, and calls for the heads of any and all who defy her rule. At the top of the list? The Blood Shrike and her remaining family.

Laia of Serra, now allied with the Blood Shrike, struggles to recover from the loss of the two people most important to her. Determined to stop the approaching apocalypse, she throws herself into the destruction of the Nightbringer. In the process, she awakens an ancient power that could lead her to victory--or to an unimaginable doom.

And deep in the Waiting Place, the Soul Catcher seeks only to forget the life--and love--he left behind. Yet doing so means ignoring the trail of murder left by the Nightbringer and his jinn. To uphold his oath and protect the human world from the supernatural, the Soul Catcher must look beyond the borders of his own land. He must take on a mission that could save--or destroy--all that he knows. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: The final instalment of the Ember Quartet had us crying in the metaphorical club. It’s exciting, terrifying, and probably the horniest book in the series and we loved it!

~Spoiler-full discussion below~

The Good:

→ Elias and Laia

Geena: In the final instalment of the Ember quartet, Sabaa deprives us of an Elias POV and slaps us with the Soulcatcher instead… He’s very much an ‘emotions are bad’ type of dude, the opposite of Elias who always had so many… but both of them are so angsty? The Soulcatcher really likes to beat up trees when his memories from when he was Elias resurface which was so emo to me. Despite being possessed by Mauth he is also such a coward, especially around Laia, because Elias’ feelings for Laia scare him and every single time he is like *running emoji*. We were surprised that Sabaa let him remain the soulcatcher for so long, every chapter I was like ‘Okay, maybe this is where Elias breaks through…’ but no.. Elias remained buried UNTIL their night in the cabin… the Soulcatcher was like ‘k I’m out’ but ONLY for ONE NIGHT and that still makes me scream.. The Soulcatcher was like ‘you kids are too horny for me, I’m gonna take a nap for a bit and let Elias take over bc Jesus.’ 

Despite it all, the Soulcatcher’s chapters were enjoyable albeit painful because this man was so duty bound, like even Elias wasn’t that dedicated when he was a Mask. But near the end, when we finally get the chapter that starts with Elias…. Ngl I cried a little, and immediately wanted to reread the whole series (I feel like Sabaa did this on purpose to torture us). I want to fight Sabaa though, like she did an amazing job showing how Elias’ conscious and the Soulcatcher’s conscious were constantly fighting one another, and how Elias’ memories of the people he loved ultimately fuelled the Soulcatcher’s actions… even though the Soulcatcher was like ‘I’m doing this for the ghosts’ like okay… no ghost told you to keep protecting and kissing Laia but you still did it…  

Kae: Okay, so Geena summed up my boy Ilyaas pretty damn well. Also, we LOVE HIS ETHNIC NAME IN THIS HOUSE. But um, YES. Elias was a sad boy ™ the whole time while fighting his emotions and ultimately losing. It was so PAINFUL as a reader, seeing all of  his chapters except the ONE say ‘Soulcatcher’. But when it finally said ELIAS again, I too, started to cry. Because he was BACK. 

You can all thank the power of Laia’s determination to seduce Elias back to himself, because our girl was NOT giving up. She said ‘you gonna get this coochie, dammit’ and in the cabin, Elias was like ‘well i’ll be damned. I sure as hell am. I am BACK BAYBEEEEE’

Geena: Sabaa Tahir said horny rights like ksjdnfdsjknfsdk

Kae: AUFVAHLHVKJ. BUT YES. In the end, love won. And so did sex because everyone was doin it or TRYING to do it. I guess when the world is ending, you only get one last time to uhh…. Have a good time. So they made sure they did lmao 

Now, let’s get into Laia. 

Laia. My sweet little cupcake. My mug of tea with too much honey. This girl has been through literal hell and back, and yet, she kept going. She NEVER gave up. Laia woke up in book 4 like ‘Today i will commit crimes. Helene and I crave violence’ and they both just started kicking ASS and I LOVED THAT. I was really happy to see the progression of Laia and Helen’s friendship and how they genuinely grew to like one another and see each other as besties. They both deserved a girl friend and I’m glad they found a friendship within each other. 

Laia is the bravest character in this damn book. She went from poor scholar, to slave, to hero and she was brave because she had to be. Laia is strong and took on their entire world. She had help, but she did a lot of it alone and that takes some real guts. She is the most genuine, sweetest, bravest girl and I love her. <3 

Laia also single handedly brought the Ilyaas back from his Soulcatcher shit. During this whole book she was just like ‘You know what? I think I’mma go mess with Elias’ emo ass today to see if I can get him to kiss me or something’ THEN SHE PROCEEDED TO SHOW UP AT THIS MANS HOUSE (realm or whatever) BUTTASS NEKKID. And he saw her and immediately flew the hell out of there it was TOO MUCH and he LIKED IT but couldn’t admit it. 

Geena: You know what I love about that whole scene was like earlier she was like ‘He’s a lost cause idc’ and then Darin was like ‘Elias wouldn’t give up on you if that happened’ and Laia was like ‘you’re right, he would show up stark naked and try to seduce me back to my body’ and she did just that...

Kae: SHE DID. SHE SHOWED UP AND SHOWED OUT! Like, her entire mission was to bring Elias back while also planning on taking down the Nightbringer. But she was straight up like ‘okay but not before i get my man back through SEDUCTION’. Ugh, the mango scene?  Superb. 

Geena: Laia is hands down one of my favourite book characters to exist. Her journey from the first book being a scared girl with a missing brother, to being the face of a revolution… like the GROWTH. Like Kae mentioned, she and Helene end up as BESTIIEESSSS, and I was surprised at how natural they seemed. Because we went from them hating each other to close friends, but despite not seeing their development, it came off so natural? So, I loved that! 

Kae covered Laia’s character pretty thoroughly, she was both a horndog and a bad bitch. Like this girl has pretended to be a Slave for the Commandment to travelling a desert by herself and facing off a squad of Jinn… In retrospect, Laia is a unique case, she’s allowed to be kind and caring and doesn’t have to be a fighter type to be strong. She’s not the chosen one, which this book made clear, it could’ve been anyone to fight the Nightbringer… but only Laia was strong enough to love him AND defy him. And I just love her a lot… she was very much an anime protagonist with the power of love, family, and friendship… anyways I love her and that’s all I have to say

→ Helene 

Geena: The way I ended up liking and rooting for Helene this book? Came out of left field. To be honest, in previous books I didn’t feel much for her other than ‘stop chasing after Elias and Laia pls.’ But this book I wanted her to win, especially with the fight against the germanic-esque invaders. She goes through substantial development, no longer seeing Scholars as slaves and taking their opinions seriously.. Like Laia, Musa, and Darin were all a part of her crew. A stark difference from Book 1 Helene, who thought Scholars only had one role in the world and that was slaves. 

Helene… like Laia… really has the Ember equivalent of hot girl summer with Harper… all the time she spends denying it she is like *jumps on him the chance she gets*. The bath scene… Helene’s power was turning her tortuer into her MAN… But also Sabaa said that ‘yes she has changed, but she has to repent for her sins’ and that’s why Helene is basically left alone at the end (save for Laia, Elias, and Musa). 

Kae: So not gonna lie, I never actually disliked Helene. I saw her as the flawed character she was in the beginning. During her cat and mouse chase with Elias and Laia in the beginning, she would piss me OFF because like, that’s your BEST FRIEEEEEND. JUST STAAAAHP. But also, it was him or her and her family's death, so I get it. But I always saw potential in her to be better. And thank GOODNESS she went through all that character development. Because she was a damn menace in the beginning. 

Also like Geena mentioned; Helly and Harper finally hooking up? I swear the heavens opened up in that moment because EVERYONE could feel their tension. LIKE JUST DO IT ALREADY. You can’t fight love, baybeeee

Watching Helly grow as a person was really rewarding as a reader. Like Geena said, she went from hating scholars to being like ‘hmm, maybe my opinions are shitty?’ and straight up changed.  I also feel for her because she lost her ENTIRE family and like, honestly? I would’ve given up. BUT SHE DIDN’T. She’s a literal fighter, bred for this shit. So she FOUGHT. And I was really scared she was gonna get murked because y’all know Keris’ tiny evil ass doesn’t have a chill button. And when they were fighting? I was like LAWD PLS DON’T  TAKE HELLY. But instead he took Harper *upside down smiley face* SO THAT WAS FUCKED UP AND I WASN’T READY FOR IT. But a piece of me knew it was coming. 

The Bad:   

→ Darin and Harper

Geena: As Kae mentioned… Harper kicked the can in this book :’( His eventual fall came from loving and caring for Helene too much, which left him open and gave Keris the chance to stab him. Harper was basically Helene’s heart outside her body, and when he went down so did Helene. I had had a feeling when Book 3 ended that Harper wouldn’t make it, but I WASN’T HAPPY ABOUT BEING RIGHT FOR ONCE… Harper had finally met his brother (Elias) and hadn’t even had a chance to meet the real Elias and talk to him about their father or other sibling stuff. LIKE OF ALL CHARACTER DEATHS… AND THERE WAS A LOT… The other one that came out of left field was fucking Darin of Serra… DARIN… THE ONE DUDE WE SPENT TWO WHOLE BOOKS SAVING… DEAD WITH A SNAP OF HIS NECK!! I WAS SO MAD

LIKE SABAA HAD US THINKING HE WAS GONNA BE SAFE, SHE GAVE HIM A LIL GIRLFRIEND AND EVERYTHING BUT THEN SHE GOES.. AND KILLS HIM?? JUST LIKE THAT?? Then we had to read the scenes where Elias helps both Darin and Harper pass over into the afterlife and I was just *cries angrily* 

Kae: Well, THAT was sad. Have you ever just like, felt your heart break into a million tiny irreparable pieces? That’s how I felt when Darin and Harper died. Because like, they were both trying to save the women they loved. Darin to Laia, (foolishly so against the Nightbringer) but I would do it for my little sister too. And Harper with Helene against evilass Keris. Dude, that shit just sucked. It hurt to read. It hurt to imagine the girls feeling the pain of their deaths. They were both such good men. And DARIIIN. 

Darin didn’t have to go out like that, man. It was such a harsh death. No last words. It was just over and his body was just gone. I wish Laia would’ve been able to talk with him at The Waiting Place at least one last time. But it is what it is. I hated to see both of them go. Especially since Darin pretty much sparked this whole series. 

Sure, Laia, Helene, and Elias were the main characters. But Darin was the spark that started the fire. And he didn’t even get to see it’s flames extinguished. 

Geena: He was the ember in the ashes… literally like Sabaa uses that for Elias and Laia but it applies to Darin the most

Kae: LITCHRALLY gonna get teary eyed over here. Our boys deserved better :( 

Conclusion 

Geena: This was not at all a disappointing end to the series we’ve followed closely for so long. The different plot points and character arcs were tied up nicely, and Sabaa Tahir showed us once again why she’s one of the best fantasy writers on this side of the Milky Way. We didn’t even bother including a ‘The Ugly’ section because we loved it too much ksfmsd. The only qualm I’d have with the end was the empire remaining, Helene recognized the Scholars as equals but centuries of pain isn’t easily forgotten you know? SO THAT’S WHY I THINK WE DESERVE A SEQUEL SERIES… BUT I DIGRESS… OVERALL, I loved this book and the ending for all the characters ESPECIALLY FOR OUR GIRL LAIA <3

Kae: YES. I AGREE 100% WITH GEENA. It was such a beautiful end to the series. Sabaa is  GENIUS and her storytelling is phenomenal. I loved every little surprise she’s hidden in all of the books. ESPECIALLY WITH COOK BEING ALIVE? I DIDN’T SEE THAT SHIT COMING AT ALL. LIKE HOLY SHIT? So Laia had some remaining family afterall, and I think that’s very sweet. I’m really sad to see the series be over with and Geena and I are both *~HOPIIIING~* for an epilogue or some little crumbs or SOMETHING with the gang and how their lives ended up into middle adulthood or something. 

Geena: I would literally take a single paragraph… Ms. Tahir…. Blease…

Kae: But yes, in conclusion, Laia has a heart of gold and we LOVE HER. She’s brave and strong and smart, and was the only one out of THOUSANDS to stick for herself and defy the Nightbringer, and save the whole world. Helene has come a long way and she developed beautifully as a character. And Elias. Ohhh, Ilyaas. His continued self sacrifice and bravery and love still helped him live in the end and I think that’s beautiful. 

[davidmann95]

Comics this week (1/27/2021)?

X-Men #17: I guess Hickman told his editors “yeah this issue’s relatively filler and is pretty much here to set up a single straightforward Checkov’s Gun for later, so I guess you can put whoever needs to work on it” so that’s how that happened.

Shang-Chi #5: A nice little mini, but I’m happy Yang’s moving on to my boys.

Avengers #41 (got this late from last week): That patented Aaron-brand Avengers nonsense I love, how I missed you.

Daredevil #26: ...huh. Don’t take that as a condemnation on my part, that’s simply my plain reaction to the developments of an issue of comics I enjoyed. Huh.

Stillwater #5 (ditto): SO THERE’S SOME REAL SHIT FOR OUR TIMES

The Department of Truth #5: Love me that looooore, baybeeeee

We Only Find Them When They’re Dead #5: I did have to stop a few pages in to refresh myself on a few names, but gosh can I not wait for acts two and three.

Future State: Aquaman #1: I figured this one could go either way since I’ve read some work by Brandon Thomas I vibed with and one or two that baffled me, so happy to say this one worked out really well. And very happy to be getting Sampere on Action soon.

Future State: Batman/Superman #1: I’ve seen folks unsurprisingly let down by this as a pretty straightforward World’s Finest teamup for Yang’s debut that for the most part could have just as easily taken place now, but the more I sit on this one the more it grows on me. There’s a sense of melancholy knowing this is probably Clark and Bruce’s last adventure together like this before what’s about to happen to each of them in this timeline, a tension they don’t know exists even as we can see their friendship start to fray that crucial bit - not because they’re at moral loggerheads, but because the changes in their lives are driving them in such different directions. I like the idea of a little slice of a ‘future’ event like this having a chapter set just long enough from now that the changes in motion are irreversible, but not far enough out yet to have visibly shaken things up permanently, and how that changes the tone of the characters’ adventures at the unknowing last point where they’re still recognizable. Anyway, high-falutin’ aside, it’s Yang and Oliver, of course it’s a very readable superhero comic even sans context.

Future State: Dark Detective #2: Very much enjoyed the fleshing-out here of Bruce’s new means and methods of operation, and the Red Hood backup works surprisingly well too (between this and DCeased, is DC making Jason Todd and Rose Wilson a thing?). My confidence in the upcoming Tamaki Detective increases accordingly.

Future State: Superman vs. Imperious Lex #1: This is gonna disappoint a lot of folks, not because it’s anything less than really good, but because it’s ‘merely’ really good when it’s the Flintstones team reuniting for their big, basically continuity-free crack at Superman. Probably that’s in no small part because it feels like Russell modulating his voice a bit to prove he can play nice with the other books in the same way as his Sinestro one-shot awhile back. Still fine with me and still one of Future State’s better offerings, but not the clear home run it seemed at announcement.

Future State: Legion of Superheroes #1: Well THAT’S not who I was expecting the much-advertised traitor to be. Lots of cool details here I’m looking forward to seeing play out when the book proper returns.

Strange Adventures #8: I want Gerads on a Flash book and Shaner drawing as many forest landscapes as possible going forward.

Batman: The Adventures Continue #8: Pretty standalone after how #1-7 formed a loose arc, but this taps the best of BTAS’s treatment of its villains and is a nice little epilogue.

Batman: Black and White #2: 

* The King/Gerads Batman story is an extremely King/Gerads Batman story, in the best way.

* The Campbell Batman and Catwoman story plays with the format, such as it is, in the most amusing way of this mini so far or any of the preceding Batman: Black and White books I recall.

* The Hardman/Bechko joint is pretty and perfectly serviceable.

* The Weaver story I don’t even kind of get but it sure is lovely.

* The Aja story doesn’t live up to its art or its unique format, but it’s still David Aja drawing Batman so it’s fine.

* Love the Villalobos pinup, glad he’s still got the occasional DC gig even if he’s making his main comics home elsewhere these days.

The Other History of the DC Universe #2: It doesn’t blow the doors down in the same way as #1, but I don’t know that it could - it isn’t introducing the concept, and it’s juggling two characters with I believe much less defining history than the singular lead of the debut. Still a great comic, and it’s with this issue it hits me that in following B- and C-list characters specifically rather than your Green Lanterns or Cyborgs, the book gets to have its cake and eat it too by conveying a superheroic POV while still making them spectators to the biggest developments both world-shaking and culturally significant. And yes, very much looking forward to what Ridley will do with Superman in Red and Blue after the balancing act he continues to strike here, I feel like he could be to All-Star Superman what Snyder was to Morrison’s Batman in presenting what those books were getting at in a way the general audience can latch onto this time (though in this case probably with something a little more on the prestige side rather than a summer crossover).

[astral-domination]

Chapter 181: Sweet Meat has been posted!

still almost two years behind on catching up to the source material baybeeeee

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12620960/181/Astral-Domination

[wetalkinboutbooks]

Deathless Divide by Justina Ireland

Summary:  The sequel to Dread Nation is a journey of revenge and salvation across a divided America.

After the fall of Summerland, Jane McKeene hoped her life would get simpler: Get out of town, stay alive, and head west to California to find her mother.

But nothing is easy when you're a girl trained in putting down the restless dead, and a devastating loss on the road to a protected village called Nicodemus has Jane questioning everything she thought she knew about surviving in 1880's America.

What's more, this safe haven is not what it appears - as Jane discovers when she sees familiar faces from Summerland amid this new society. Caught between mysteries and lies, the undead, and her own inner demons, Jane soon finds herself on a dark path of blood and violence that threatens to consume her.

But she won't be in it alone.

Katherine Deveraux never expected to be allied with Jane McKeene. But after the hell she has endured, she knows friends are hard to come by - and that Jane needs her, too, whether Jane wants to admit it or not.

Watching Jane's back, however, is more than she bargained for, and when they both reach a breaking point, it's up to Katherine to keep hope alive - even as she begins to fear that there is no happily-ever-after for girls like her (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ x1000

Overall: A killer sequel to Dread Nation, you’re constantly on the edge of your seat and each chapter is a new layer of stress. There’s never a moment of rest and repose because Justina Ireland hooks you with the first chapter and doesn’t let go until you’ve turned the last page.

~ Check out the spoiler-full review/plot discussion below!

The Bad: 

→ Redjack and Redfern

Geena: We’re starting with the bad because as Kae said ‘So much bad happens before the good’ and that’s the best way to describe this book. Let’s start off with our fave rogue from Dread Nation who turns out to be a WHOLE BITCH!!! Once Jane and Katherine and Co. get out of Summerland and meet up with him to plan their next move, Jane and them want to go to Nicodemus (a safe town run by a black man and a council of freed slaves and indigenous ppl). Redjack is like ‘it’s an overpopulated place let’s not’ but Jane isn’t dumb and sniffs out that there’s something else, and after Katherine and Jane both needle him we find out that… THIS BITCH IS MARRIED… AND HAS BEEN FOR A WHILE?????? ALL THE WHILE HE WAS FLIRTING AND MACKING ON JANE HE WAS MARRIED????????????? This is the start of the downfall of men in this book, it only gets worse from here… Jane confronts him about being played and he’s basically like ‘Jane you’re fun and all but like you’d never settle down, I seen you fighting and stuff just because you want to… I need a home for Lily’... and like… ok.... Jane is immediately like ‘He wanted a doormat’ and I DIED… but karma works fast and he gets bit by a shambler literally the same night lmao… and guess who kills him? JANE.. though it’s quite emotional because she had feelings for him. 

Jane also steals one of his letters when she kills him and kjnsfdskj we find out his wife is preggers but who’s gonna tell her that Redjack is capital d DEAD...  

Kae: Alright. MF’n REDJACK. This man… With his cute ass… He was just TRASH. A real fuckboy and Geena summed him up perfectly. I was like, a lil sad to see him go? But good riddance to him for playing my Janey Jane. She may be a tough-ass, but she absolutely has feelings (THAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO COPE WITH) but still. She has feelings. 

So now, let’s talk about Redfern’s shady ass. I’ve always side-eyed Redfern. I didn’t trust him. I had a very hard time trusting him because how you gone help The White Man ™  help enslave black and other indigenous peoples for your own gain? Like, boy fuck you. Shady ass. He’s the one that transported Jane, Katherine, and Red Jack to Summerland in the first place. So it was definitely a shock to see his fool ass in Nicodemus as the damn SHERIFF. LIKE WHO TF?

Geena: RIGHT I WAS LIKE WHY IS HE EVERYWHERE? IS HE CLONING HIMSELF??

Kae: And like, he jails Jane because when her and the gang arrive, the surviving folks of Summerland blame her for the small settlement falling to the dead. Redfern is like “Look, Jane. I know you ain’t do that shit. But I gotta jail you so they can stfu. You’ll get a fair trial.” And Jane doesn’t trust this and neither do I. Because black people didn’t get a fair ANYTHING back then. (We still don't) BUT THAT’S ANOTHER STORY. ANYWAAAAAAAY. Jane catches Redfern shooting the breeze with Miss Duncan and they eventually set her free. All the while, Katherine, a few homies they met in Summerland, and a few homies from Miss Prestons, are planning to break Jane out and BOUNCE. When Jane and Katherine finally reunite, Katherine is like “JANE. MY BESTIE. I WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU!” And Jane is like “Lol, yikes. We’re not even friends wtf?” Because again, Jane can’t handle feelings or people genuinely caring about her. That has a bit to do with mommy issues. NOW.  Jane has been trying to tell the council of Nicodemus that the horde of zombies will break down the wall that protects the city. But they’re like “HURR DURR SHUT UUUUP. We have machine guns. And that Gideon scientist boy has been keeping up gucci.” And Jane knows walls don’t hold forever. So she’s like we need to get TF up out of here. So she starts making a plan… And that’s when shit starts going south.

Geena: Like Kae said, Redfern is a traitor in all sense of the word… The only time he seems normal is when he’s hardcore crushing on Miss Duncan, but even then… He ends up telling Jane that he only cares about self-preservation and that’s why he’ll stab even his own mother in the back if it means he’ll be safe… OKAY HE DOESN’T SAY THAT BUT REDFERN 100% WOULD… Well kARMA GOT IT’S KISS FOR REDFERN TOO bc when Nicodemus falls, Miss Duncan also turns shambler so kjndsfkjsdfnsd

He ends up being a double agent near the end of the book, pretending to be Jane and Katherine’s ally, only to turn them over to the VILLAIN.. But then also helps them escape? A very morally questionable character and also another example of Deathless Divide saying ‘men aint shit’.

Kae: He triple crossed their asses. Triple agent mf 

→ The Fall of Nicodemus 

Kae: WHEWWWW. The fall of Nicodemus was something else. I knew it was going to happen, but damn, it was bad. So, we have bitchboy Gideon, who Jane has taken a bit of a liking to. And he wants her to convince the rest of the town to get a ‘Shambler Vaccine’ to protect them. She refuses because she has no idea if the vaccine really works. At least, not yet she does. So at some point, Gideon convinces all the people of Nicodemus to get vaccinated. But he vaccinates all of the original inhabitants of Nicodemus first, then the assholes from Summerland. But the thing is, he runs out of vaccines by the time he has to vaccinate the Summerland folk, and they’re being PISSY about it like “waaaaa, you vaccinated all the black folks before us, WAAA IM A FUCKIN BABY” so he hurries and makes a quick vaccine. Well, THIS QUICK BATCH TURNS THE FOLKS OF SUMMERLAND INTO ZOMBIES. THIS DUMBASS BITCHASS GIDEON TURNS THE DAMN PEOPLE. So he and Miss Duncan stuff them all in a barn or whatever, then DESTROYYYYYY the fence/wall in the back of the town to try to lead them out. Redfern helps too, I think. And then shit. Gets. Real. The machine gun they had isn’t holding them off and some damn zombies done came around the back entrance they created by destroying the fence, and they start CHOMPIN. 

Geena: AS KAE SAID… GIDEON AND DUMBITCH CO. MADE A WHOLE BACKDOOR FOR THE ZOMBIES IN AN ATTEMPT TO COVER UP HIS OWN MISTAKE… Reading about the fall was really sad, because this group of well meaning people WHO BTW AREN’T WHITE, that established a community where black and indigenous folk can find SOME SEMBLANCE of justice is overrun by zombies bc of a bitchass white boy’s hubris. So, the zombies get through the backdoor and as Jane and Katherine are slicing and dicing they stumble onto the group they traveled with.. Who also turned.. And Jane has to kill that little baby boy because he too, got turned into a zombie… Also, during the fall of Nicodemus Jane gets bit :( and separates from Katherine and Co. to die alone at the sheriff’s office… But then she doesn't… because back in book 1 when Gideon gave her a vaccine… it worked. So, Jane wakes up to Gideon… the last person she wants to see… who is basically gloating about his vaccine working and he’s making excuses for himself? Callie (a new friend) tries to kill Gideon, but he escapes and she ends up helping Jane instead… where Jane loses her arm :( 

Literally, a White Man’s ego can destroy a whole town built on the blood and sweat of freed slaves and indigenous people, JUST BECAUSE he thinks he knows better… 

Kae: So like, when Jane wakes up, she threatens to kill Gideon, even though she’s sick and basically puking the zombie virus out of her. While Gideon is gloating, Callie (Jane’s friend and future girlfriend) shoots towards Gideon, but misses. She then cuts off Jane’s bitten arm. The two of them spend a bit of time in the fallen Nicodemus, looking at all of the zombiefied townspeople and healing so they can leave. They both want to track down Gideon and KILL HIS ASS. Which I support. And now we venture into PART 2 OF THE BOOK BAYBEEEEE. 

The Ugly

→ Gideon

Kae: WE’RE GOING TO OFFICIALLY TALK ABOUT BITCHASS, SKANK-ASS GIDEON. Dawg, when I tell you I HAAATED this man, I mean it. I have never wanted a character to die more than I wanted Gideon to parish. This man caused the fall of not one, but MULTIPLE TOWNS AND THE WHOLE DAMN CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO. 

After the fall of Nicodemus, Jane and Callie set out to track down Gideon. On their tracking adventures, Jane becomes a bounty hunter in order to make money so she can continue on her search for Gideon. Jane is like, a hundred times more badass now. She’s a one armed, zombie slaying, bounty hunter that kills people who have done immense wrong to others. She and Callie learn through their travels that Gideon escaped safely and went on to get funded by some rich folk. In Gideon’s own escapades, he has caused the fall of another small town. And guess how he did that? This IDIOT vaccinated another town and they all turned ‘Shambler’ (zombie). Then he fucks off and escapes so he can’t get in trouble. Jane and Callie make it to California, where Jane hopes to reunite with her mother. There, she kills a man, which pisses Callie off. So while they’re shacked up in a hotel, Callie leaves while Jane is sleeping. And Callie’s punk ass takes all of Jane’s money with her, leaving Jane without anything but the clothes on her back. 

Geena: We don’t stan Callie in this house. If she loved Jane that much she would’ve left her SOME money wtf

Kae: TRUE. SO FUCK, CALLIE. LIL BIIIEEETCH. But yeah, Callie dips tf out and leaves Jane with nothing. Callie DID give Jane the option to come with her and start a new life, but Jane is kind of being fueled by her revenge and it’s blinded her. I feel bad too because Jane is also being haunted by Redjack’s ghost. So there’s that. 

Geena: Gideon the perfect example why ~intellectual~ men don’t deserve ANY rights. He’s so obsessed with his own research and bullshit, he thinks that no one knows what’s best for humanity other than him, that he brings about death and destruction wherever he goes. He’s the reason Nicodemus falls, he’s also the reason that the West Coast (which is seen as shambler free because it’s protected by mountains) also falls… BECAUSE THIS BITCH CAUSES ANOTHER SHAMBLER OUTBREAK with a faulty vaccine. When Jane and Callie decided to hunt him down I was like LIVING!!! LIKE KILL THAT WHITE BOY!! Who cares for nothing other than being successful… Also, the fact that every boy Jane has thought to be cute was trash is killing me… Girl… needs better taste HONESTLY…

Also, while trying to make himself look like a Sad Boy he forcefully injects his vaccine into Katherine… WHICH ALMOST KILLS HER, but SIIIKKEE because Katherine ends up killing him instead 😎 I personally wanted his death to be WORSE and more PAINFUL for all the shit he’s done but Justina Ireland kept it SHORT and Sweet. 

The Good

→ Jane and Katherine

Geena: THE ONE… THE ONE GOOD THING THAT CAME OUT OF THIS DUOLOGY… JANE AND KATHERIN’S FRIENDSHIP… LITERAL RIDE OR DIES... BC JANE TECHNICALLY DIES AT ONE POINT LMAO

Like Kae mentioned earlier, Katherine has fully accepted Jane as a friend by the time they get to Nicodemus, but Jane is still unsure (kinda thinks she isn’t a friend type of person). Katherin reaffirms that she will be there for Jane, but Jane is like Sideyes… But, as the story progresses, after Jane “dies” Katherine spends the rest of the novel constantly thinking of Jane and wishing she had said more.  ALL THE WHILE JANE is killing her way to the West Coast.

When they do meet though it kinda hurt because Jane is essentially like ‘Sorry, the old Jane can’t come to the phone right now... because she’s dead’ and Katherine is like ?????????. Jane believes herself to be a monster, because um… she’s just been bounty hunting bad people and because she’s driven by her rage against Gideon - IMO I don’t think that would’ve made her heartless or a monster, but Callie reiterates that she doesn’t like Jane like that (as a killer)… obviously, her resolve was weaker than Jane’s but n e ways. Katherine is also like ‘omg Jane killed that dude without remorse’ (Jane kills a r*pist in front of her, but Katherine doesn’t know what he did). REGARDLESS, uNLIKE SOMEONE (Callie) Katherine doesn’t give up on Jane and accompanies her wherever Jane goes because she knows she can bring back the old Jane and… when I tell you a bitch was emotional :’) AND ALSO THE ENDING WAS BEAUTIFUL though bittersweet

Kae: Okay, let me just say, from the bottom of my heart, that I absolutely adore Jane and Katherine’s friendship. Jane thinks it was built on their shared experience of being kidnapped, but in reality, it was built on their respect for each other. When Kate first saw Jane, she was SHOOK. And Jane was like ‘oh fuck, be cool. Act like you don’t care.’ and so that happened, as Geena explained above. But Katherine stuck around because that’s her best friend and you never give up on your best friend when they’re going through something. 

Jane continues to be a meanass to Kate, but Katherine ignores it to the best of her ability and pulls her knickers up and keeps by Jane’s side. In this, Katherine notices that Jane calls her by her full name instead of just “Kate”, which was something Jane always did because she knew it annoyed Katherine. So when Jane starts to let down her guard, she slips up and calls her “Kate” and this takes Katherine to the moon! She’s so excited to see her Jane coming back! But Jane is like “whoops, I'm showing feelings. Can’t let that shit happen” and she hunkers back down. 

While Jane was off being dead and bounty hunting, Katherine was on a boat (but I don’t remember doing what) with Lily and Sue (Sue is from Miss Prestons and Nicodemus) and her new friend, a man named Carolina. When they get to California, they realize that it’s not as black friendly as they’d hoped, but it’s presumably safe so that’s what matters. Katherine here’s that San Francisco might offer them a better life, so she and her gang make the trip to get there. That’s when they run into Jane and all the above happens. 

One of my favourite parts is Carolina not liking Jane because his first introduction is killing a man without hesitation. But Katherine is like “Pfffft, oh that’s just Jane! It’s FINE!” all the while internally she’s like ‘omgomgomg wtf’. And that’s when Katherine agrees to help Jane kill Gidon and also find her mother. 

In the end, they kill Gideon’s horrible ass and end up finding Jane’s mother safe and sound in a small settlement in the mountains called New Haven. Jane’s mother is happy to see Jane, but is totally dismissive of Jane's experience and all she had to do to get to her mother again. I felt really bad for Jane because she did EVERYTHING to get back to her mother and her mom was a DICK. Anyway, Jane leaves with Redfern so they can find a new place (as reluctant homies, not as a couple) and Katherine is like “AYO, YOU JUST GONE LEAVE ME WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE, BITCH? I SAID I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND SO WHERE WE GOIN!?” And then all three of them prance off into the sunset with a new goal of finding a better life and man, a bitch (aka me and Geena) were CRYIIIIING because it was so sweet and we just love two best friends who are down for one another.  

Geena: YEEEEEEESSSSSSS, the ending was bittersweet because like Kae mentioned, Jane had been searching for her mother and her Aunt Aggie hoping to find comfort in their arms. But.. when she got to New Haven, the old life she had been desperately longing for was no longer there. Aunt Aggie was dead and her mother had remarried, and like Kae said, she ignored everything Jane had been through- not wanting to share in her daughter’s sorrows. Jane quickly realized that this wasn’t the place for her, and up and leaves, and this is where the sweetness comes in because the whole scene of Katherine running after Jane 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Like I had been so scared Justina Ireland wouldn’t give them a happy ending, because how can a zombie story end happily, but this was A LOT better than what I had expected… a bitch (Kae and I SDJKFNSD) teared up.. Just wanna thank Kae for hyping up this sequel before I read it because wow… IT REALLY LIVED UP TO THE HYPE 

Conclusion

Geena: Like I said before, this is one of the best sequels I’ve read. Usually, books end up falling flat when you get to the second but Justina Ireland didn’t fall into the same trap. We finally get Katherine’s POV and get to learn why she insists on wearing a corset, and that she’s not as perfect as Jane believed. There’s heart-stopping action and Jane kicking major ass and truly being The Devil’s Bride. Overall, once I finished this I was like Head Empty because I couldn’t read anything afterwards because I had to take time to digest the wild ride the book had been. Also, one of the biggest takeaways (other than ‘white ppl ain’t shit’) was ‘Men don’t deserve rights’ and honestly? Same.  

Kae: So there we have it! The story ended beautifully and I really, really enjoyed it. I still haven’t been able to read anything after finishing it because it was just THAT GOOD. It’s been about a month since I finished it and I’m still reeling from how beautifully written it was. It was really refreshing to read about two black women who had FEELINGS and were able to express them to the reader (because they had a hard time expressing them to each other lmao) and it was just really nice. Katherine’s backstory was great about how she was born in a brothel house and her mother tried to teach her that if she found the right man, she’d be fine. But Katherine didn’t want that. She wanted a life where she could provide for herself and be independent. What she brought with her from her old life was her corset and she wore because she basically felt it would hold her together and suppress her anxiety. 

Geena: Also, reading about the corset again can I say one of my fave details was Sue helping Katherine loosen it whenever they were in a fight… like the moment Jane disappeared Sue was there to help Katherine and support her …. Sue… the most underrated character AND THE FACT SHE GOT HER HAPPY ENDING MARRIED TO A MANS!!!!  

Kae: Jane learned, unfortunately, that not all things are golden. Her old life that she so desperately wanted a taste of, had gone sour. Her mother was no help to Jane and couldn’t even give her the smallest of sympathies. Those two things were initially what kept Jane going (along with her Aunt Aggie), until Gideon showed up and started doing dumb shit. What Jane also learned though, was that people do care about her and even though Katherine wasn’t blood, she was her family and truly loved Jane for who she was, flaws and all. 

It’s a beautiful story about two black women finding themselves and forming an unbreakable friendship. It’s more than fighting zombies and more than surviving. It’s about LIVING and finding a way to deal with all of the problems and anxieties they face along the way. It's a great story and I urge everyone to read it. Yes, it’s fictional history about zombies. BUT, it is very telling of the time period it takes place in and Justina didn’t sugar coat any of the prejudices Black people and Indigenous peoples went through back then and I appreciated that. Deathless Divide is beautiful and poetic and heartwarming in the best of way. <3