#Are the things ive never once wanted or enjoyed or expressed any interest in

[onlyjellyillputinmybelly]

I wish that presents for any holiday would stop being about how fancy of a thing you can get or how many things you can get someone. I will never use any of this shit and you are wasting your money. Gifts should be from the heart, not the wallet.

[lily-alphonse]

elliott x harvey/paper airplanes? i’ve been obsessing over these dreamers lol

OMG I love the ship name

Hmmmm lets see. This is interesting because I really like them individually and have not thought to pair them.

What I immediately think of is that they would like the same music. I think that could open the door for them.

Like Harvey sees Elliott, this beautiful charming man, and he's already sold but would never act on his fantasy. Elliott though, he doesn't think much of Harvey at first. He's too bland for his taste.

I think I would couple this ship with Elliott experiencing growth in his personal journey after moving to Pelican Town.

Initially he romanticizes the idea of living on the beach, then it's not what he thought it would be. It has it's moments, the breathtaking sunsets, the haunting wind. But there's so much sand. It's everywhere. It's in his bed. His hair is always tangled. And the thing he hadn't considered when isolating himself to write is just how boring it would be.

Everything is so boring, but that's what he wanted, right? To have an empty canvas free to create on?

The villagers are wary of him despite his charm so he doesn't make friends right away. But he watches. People-watching over a glass of wine is one of his favorite pass-times.

An old jazzy song comes on that he knows well and enjoys. He closes his eyes and loses himself to it for a moment before noticing Dr. Harvey's foot tapping just slightly against the bar.

He hadn't considered what music the good doctor might enjoy, if any at all. He'd always seemed as bland as the rest of this place. So this was intriguing.

He begins to watch him more. The doctor is a loner too but seems content in his bubble of boredom.

And every once in a while, Elliott is surprised to learn something new about him that implies a depth to him he hadn't expected. The fascination bleeds into the rest of his life as he begins to wonder if he just isn't looking closely enough.

After a few instances of small talk over wine Harvey expresses admiration for Elliott, for following his passion.

"Following, not quite sure where it's getting me, however," Elliott smirks.

"I think you'll make it," Harvey says with heartwarming certainty. Elliott finds his earnestness increasingly disarming, flustering him as much as Harvey is flustered by Elliott's charm.

Also Harvey's balloon ride but with Elliott? That would be incredibly precious. When ur artsy bf is so busy crying over the sunset he barely notices you having a panic attack lmao

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

@sonicsbigmassivepersonality (love that name btw lol)

[your-phantomfield]

HINATA = HIMEZURU

i .. ii .. iii circa 2051 for anonymous

Dating Hinata Himezuru...

I.

Loving Hinata Himezuru leads to the kind of relationship where everyone you know is calling you ‘married’ even before you’re officially dating. To be fair, that is what it looks like more often than not. Hinata takes anyone she grows close to and adopts them right into her family; anyone she runs into during the day is probably going to be invited over for lunch or dinner, anyone who stays for dinner sees a good chance of being invited to stay the night, etc.

Once you’ve got her heart, this behavior escalates. It’s already her love language! Hinata is a girlfriend who greets you at the door to her house as if you own it, tries to help you take off your jacket and/or shoes, knows your schedule well enough to already have a meal you’ll love waiting on the table, and will definitely want to feed some of it to you if the two of you are alone. This girl is 110% wife material.

II.

If she had it her way, she’d like to have you spending more time at her place than your own. She may not remember it well, but she spent a painful period of her childhood alone, and she’s been very social since. She just loves having you around. She likes getting to see you and touch you as much as she wants, she likes getting to hear your voice in the house, she likes to watch you getting along with the rest of the people she cares about, she likes when you’re the last person she says goodnight to before she goes to sleep and when she can be the first person to greet you in the morning… It’s a nice way to live, she thinks. It feels like you’re already one big happy family! It would be nice, to do this for the rest of her life.

III.

There are few days when you won’t be seeing her at all. Even when you don’t spend the whole day together, Hinata finds ways to sneak a little date in somewhere. She likes to invite you to join her on any errands she has, or ask if she can help you out with your own. If you can’t go together, she’ll still offer to do your errands for you, or pick up something for you while she’s out- that way she has an excuse to visit you while dropping things off!

It may feel like she spoils you too much sometimes. You don’t want to take advantage of her, or see her work herself ragged!

Still, try to let her help in whatever ways you’re comfortable with. This is how Hinata shows her love. She knows she isn’t the smartest or most capable person in the world- she knows there are a million things in your life that she can’t help you with. So it’s important for her that she has opportunities to support you in the ways that she can.

IV.

If we describe her preferred expression of love to give as ‘acts of service,’ then what she most likes to receive is ‘quality time.’ The sorts of dates she enjoys are focused on just being with you, rather than any specific activity. I mean, that’s obvious- what other explanation is there for a girlfriend who would list grocery shopping as one of her favorite date activities?

With that in mind; another one of her favorite things to do on your mini-dates is to just chat for a while. You don’t have to go anywhere fancy, you don’t have to do anything exciting- what Hinata wants most is to hear your thoughts and share her own with you.

Tell her about your day, tell her stories about you and your friends. Tell her about your hobbies or whatever you’ve been watching or reading! Tell her any fun, weird, or scary dreams you’ve had!

V.

She’s a great listener, always visibly interested in anything you’re talking about. She gets invested in even your most boring stories, and has something compassionate to say at the end of all your saddest ones. It comes naturally to her because it’s just part of who she is as a person.

She genuinely loves life! She finds something to appreciate in every single moment. From there, it’s easy to put an optimistic spin on anything.

She’s been through enough in her own life that you’ll never have to be afraid of her diminishing your problems or not empathizing with them- she’s overflowing with patience and compassion. But from that angle of understanding and appreciation, she’s always able to think of a way to improve the situation, whether it’s a concrete solution to try and move forward, or a hug and something tasty to start moving on.

VI.

Being with Hinata means being part of a huge family. She has no blood relations left, but a large circle of ‘found family’ that are eager to love you almost as much as she does- as long as you promise never to break her heart. Yuki and Akira both enjoy making their fare share of “I’ll beat you up if you ever hurt her!” threats at your expense. Don’t let their brash attitudes fool you- they get attached just as quickly as she does. They like you plenty, they just also like to run their mouths.

In turn, Hinata is very interested in meeting anyone in your life. As far as she’s concerned, any friend of yours is her friend too! She’s grateful to the people that take care of you and, by defaults, trusts anyone you trust. Whether it’s your family, your friends, or even your chummier acquaintances, Hinata’s excited to meet them!

VII.

Hinata loves most types of handcrafts. She does a lot of sewing, she’s tried embroidery and knitting and crochet, she’s done a little bit of origami and can almost make one of those fancy napkin sculptures that you find at expensive restaurants. She just loves to make things and work with her hands.

So, get comfortable finding places to put gifts! Hinata starts making you something warm every time she hears a weather forecast suggest it might get cold soon. She decorates her own cute cards to give you every holiday, and sometimes just for fun.

She especially likes when she can make something you’ll be using a lot. Something that will help with your lifestyle or hobbies. Patching up your clothes (or even better, customizing them with some cute embroidery) is am always helpful option that she absolutely loves to do.

VIII.

When you date Hinata, you have a relationship for the rest of your life. Even if something were to happen and things didn’t work out, she’ll always be your friend, and you’ll always be family to her. The point is, Hinata doesn’t do any relationship casually.

People are already joking about it all the time, but one day, she’d really like to marry you. It doesn’t have to be now, or any time soon; she’d like to go to nursing school next, and she already spends every day with you. You’re already family. She’s in no rush.

But it might be nice, someday. She could wear a big Western-style white dress like a princess from a fairy tale. You’ll be her true love, the sun shining haloing you like you just stepped out of a storybook. She’d like a wedding on a sunny day in a park, with enough space and food for everyone. You could send out a thousand invitations! Both of your ‘families’ would be there, everyone either of you have ever loved, all having fun together.

A perfect happily ever after.

[tinycatstars]

Could I mayhaps please get some regressed Mituna and caregiver Kurloz writing... my sillies :)

YESS of course!! the sillies!! im so sorry this took like forever, ive been having a lil writing block recently D: so this may be kinda bad and kinda simular to something i've written before. but please enjoy!! thank you for requesting!! <3 <3 <3

Mituna was grumpy.

He was regressed today and hanging out at Kurloz’s hive with the other troll. The two had originally made plans to go to a nearby park, but it was storming extremely hard outside, so plans had to be changed.

Mituna didn’t mind storms, he actually really enjoyed the rain! He loved the sound of it, the smell, how cozy he felt when it started to pour. But he really wanted to go to the park today, and unfortunately, Kurloz wasn’t going to let Mituna run around in the storm and possibly hurt himself. He was much safer inside, at least until the weather got a bit better.

The little was sitting in the living room in front of the T.V. He had been trying to focus on playing with his colorful building blocks, but it was really hard. He just kept thinking about how mad he was that he couldn't go outside!

He huffed, arms crossed tightly across his chest. Kurloz was sitting on the couch, silently monitoring the smaller to make sure he didn’t need anything. He tapped on Mituna’s shoulder to get his attention, he had noticed how restless the little had been ever since he told him he wasn’t allowed outside yet.

‘What’s wrong?’ Kurloz signs. Mutina huffs in response, grumbling something to himself with an angry expression on his face.

“Wanna-wanna go ou’side!” he said, a pout on his face.

Kurloz shoots him a look, signing ‘I know, but it’s not nice outside right now’.

Mituna just turns around, grumpily muttering to himself as he tries to keep his attention with his blocks again. The caregiver was left confused, Mituna never really had any interest in going outside this bad before. Maybe he was just bored?

The two sit in silence for a while, before it’s interrupted by Mituna asking “Food?”, a scowl still covering his face. Kurloz nods, getting up and making his way into the kitchen, a little bee following close behind him.

‘What do you want to eat?’ He asks once they reach the cooking area.

Mituna shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Y-you pick”, he mumbled, beginning to fidget with his hands. He picked at his nails, only for Kurloz to hand him his yellow fidget cube from his pocket. The other troll always kept Mituna’s fidget toys on hand, just so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt his arms or hands by picking (which seems to be the case most often).

Kurloz looks over his pantry and fridge; he really didn’t have too much food he knew Mituna would eat. He does find some cheese slices and bread, though, and an idea pops into his mind.

‘Is grilled cheese okay?’ he signs to Mituna. He looks up for a minute and nods, then all of his attention goes back to the cube that was in his hands. The boy could be entertained for hours by the littlest things.

The caregiver grabs the bread from his pantry, some cheese from the fridge, and a pan and spatula in order to prepare their lunch. It’s not until he’s unwrapping one of the cheese slices when someone is grabbing his sweater sleeve, pulling on it gently. Mituna had moved right next to Kurloz, grabbing his clothes to get his attention. 

‘Yes?’ Kurloz signs to the little.

“Help!” Tuna chirps, a wide grin on his face.

‘You want to help cook?’ the older confirms. Mituna nods so hard he thinks the little may hurt himself. 

Kurloz smiles, nodding back to indicate that it was okay. The regressor cheers, jumping a bit as he celebrates his little victory; he got to help!

‘Can you put the butter on the bread?’ Kurloz signs to Mituna. He hums happily, grabbing a butter knife from the drawer and the butter from the fridge. Kurloz knew he was old enough in his regressed state to use the dull knife without hurting himself, thankfully.

Mituna carefully spreads the butter across the bread as the older troll turns on the burner, setting the pan on top of it. The little’s hand shook a lot, as per usual, but he took things slow to minimize the mess. He smiles at his finished work, feeling so proud of himself. He didn’t get butter anywhere else, which was a rare occurrence.

“Look! Look!” He says to Kurloz, repeating himself until the other looks over. Kurloz grins with closed lips, signing ‘Good job!’ to the other.

Kurloz takes over from there, not wanting Mituna to accidentally burn himself. He lays the first piece of bread on the pan, butter side down. The troll then adds the cheese slices on top, then the final piece of bread to finish off the sandwich. All that was left was to let it cook.

They both knew that Mituna didn’t really need to eat in the dream bubbles. He just really, really enjoyed grilled cheese. It was his number one comfort food currently, Kurloz had made so many that it was practically just muscle memory at this point.

He flips the sandwich, patiently waiting for the other side of bread to cook. Mituna wiggled next to him, getting eager to eat his lunch.

Once the other side was golden brown, Kurloz quickly grabbed the grilled cheese with the spatula, putting it on a plate and cutting it in half for the little. He hands it to Mituna, who scarfes down the sandwich so fast the other troll is afraid he’s going to choke himself.

Thankfully, he doesn’t, and soon Mituna is handing Kurloz the empty paper plate to throw away.

‘Good?’ Kurloz asks, and Mituna nods.

‘Are you feeling less grumpy?’ 

Mituna thinks for a minute before nodding again, smiling to his caregiver. All he needed was food, apparently, to get him out of his grumpy mood.

[sai-lec]

The f1 community learned the frase regency bias and now every time someone compliments a driver they don't like and/or don't compliments a driver they like is regency bias. It's kinda tiring how they can't just enjoy the sport and have to play analysts when they don't have the credentials for it.

this is unfortunately how all internet spaces work esp with the average user becoming younger and learning new terminology through its social media reference. social media for a lot of young people and even ppl in their 20s like me is a primary spruce of information and socialisation and in so its natural that they will develop with their surroundings and what is prevalent on social media is performativity; which isn't technically a word but im using it to mean the act of speaking and acting in a performative nature. and im using that to mean that a lot of how we interact on one comes from trying to prove our credibility to the people around us and this is how it always has been in fan spaces- I remember being a kid and showing off tings like Pokemon trading cards or moshi monsters figurine collections and others doing similar things because we want to communicate that we are a credible part of the community and are knowledgable on the interest at hand. Im trying not to make this too long but basically what im saying is that the increase in accessibility to social media increases the range of people that you will be reacting with and want to fit in with and as particularly younger members of any community are introduced to. anew term they develop an understanding to it in a specific context in which it is always relevant to them. The understanding of what the words is intended to be used for becomes irrelevant in a sense because this is the only environment in which a lot of people will see it be used .

I talked about this on my other blog a while back but to give another example of how this develops look at the word 'victim'.

recently on twitter there was an incident in which a creator claimed to be a 'victim' of another creator- the highlighted incident was not being responded to in a video game lobby of 10 people. The use of victim rings alarm bells in peoples heads because that is a serious phrase but the question was never asked- a victim of what? the creator tried to say it was misogyny in the end because they are afab but again the referential event didnt show any misogyny- just a non response from someone in a video game where 10 people were talking at once but the internet took it by storm to spread awareness about this victims story. there was no harm or helplessness inflicted upon the creator nor was there a hoax to fall victim too there was no expression of why they felt victimised. victim in this case refers to anybody who has had a negative experience with another person.

'recency bias' faces a similar fate. yes there are conversations to be had about the recency bias in journalism and commentary in f1 and in toxic fan spaces but it is being applied to any instance of a driver who has faced recent success or misfortune. being a Ferrari fan you see both sides of the coin- instagram comments are full of middle aged men calling Charles washed up when that isn't true, and logging onto here ive had to block several accounts for complaining my appreciation for Carlos is just recency bias and I should look at the career scores for each driver . and thats where the issue is its being used to fundamentally compare two drivers it is used in arguments to demean another fan and prove someone else's favourite driver. the same with Hamilton and max. stroll and Alonso have gotten it recently. its not being used for its intended purpose because people have only perceived it in reference to driver comparisons and continue to perpetuate that relevancy.

its all to do with critical thinking really, as critical thinks skills are showing declines people are less likely to critically engage with the work at hand applying major bias to their perspectives or furthering the performativity of online spaces by engaging in discourse with a black and white perspective

[shirogane-oushirou]

🦎, 🎀 and ♟️ for the OC f/o ask game? :)

hello hi hi hi~ thank you so much for the ask!!! love having an excuse to talk endlessly about my beautiful boy <333 i'm just gonna stream of consciousness ramble about all three rens and hope it all makes sense in the end skdjfkjn ;; 💗

🦎 - does your oc f/o have any pets? if not, what pet(s) would they want? is there a reason why they don't have them?

not directly! ren never had pets growing up (strict family), and both doc! and v!ren are so busy, out of the apartment all of the time, that he knows it wouldn't be responsible to keep a pet, no matter how much he'd like one :( once i'm in the picture, though, and start living with him... i mean. i spend most of the day at home in bed KJNASKFJN so time for kibby~~ on one of his off-days we go to some cat cafes to see what we're both interested in cat-wise and how both of our energies play off of them. that way, once we decide to get one, we have SOME idea of the kind cat that would enjoy BOTH of our companies!! r!ren doesn't have pets of his own, but he DOES live with his sister who owns a small coop with a couple of hens! when he wants a quiet moment to think, he'll sit in the backyard and hold a hen and scritch around her wings while he listens to music. one of his niece's chores is to take care of the hens (as much as she can, at least), and he'll sometimes help her out with some of the more difficult things, like cleaning out and replacing the bedding.

🎀 - what aesthetic(s) do you associate with your oc f/o? bonus point if you make an aesthetic board for them!

may have gone... a little overboard with this one... KAJNSDKJN. to my credit, i decided it would be a good opportunity to make some "album covers" for my multiple in-the-works ren playlists teehee (so THANK YOU for choosing this q sjdkjnk i needed the kick in the butt). there's overlap in their aesthetics (especially doc! and v!ren) so i tried to divvy them up as best i could. i'll post these on their own over the next few days, but for now: [cw food, blood, trypophobia, open water, fungi, iv bags] 1: RenRo 2: General Ren 3: Retail!Ren 4: Doctor!Ren 5: Villain!Ren

♟️- how smart is your oc f/o? is it academic smarts, emotional smarts, etc? where does your oc f/o thrive and where do they lack?

(this is so long. i apologize in advance. o7 ) ough. they're all very smart book-wise. trained from an early age and all that, plus doc! and v!ren went to med school and now work in a specialty unit at a university hospital, performing both as a clinical mycologist and doing research when not tending to patients. r!ren went no-contact with his parents before he went to college and went straight into the work force. he's just as intelligent, he just hasn't gone through several years of med school on top of what he already knew. (i am debating the possibility of community college for him, though. need to do some research and cost comparisons... so that's still up in the air!! ;;) emotionally... hmmmmmm. it's complicated. he's VERY observant and people-pleasing, but to a degree that can be off-putting. for doc! and v!ren, this manifests as insecurities due to past failed relationships, which either due to the partner not being Great OR ren over- or under-pleasing them. tl;dr he puts so much pressure on himself to Mask Perfectly to be the Perfect Partner so as to avoid past mistakes... that he'll end up doing things like over-analyzing small details about whether my facial expression indicates that i liked his silly joke instead of recognizing that like. i might like him back and just enjoy his company? KAJSNdKJn. so i think he has the POTENTIAL for good emotional intelligence, but he focuses too much on his own behavior in response to other peoples' feelings instead of properly processing what he observes. if that makes sense. r!ren's a little more realistic about all of this, so his observational skills are more refined, and we start dating MUCH faster because of that lol. he does still have that matching-other-peoples'-energy thing but. yknow. i can make him better LMAO. street smarts-wise, all three are baseline okay. ren grew up in small-town maine and wasn't really allowed a rich social life, so he wasn't very street smart when he first moved away. doc! and v!ren have lived in a big city for several years since then, and he spends a decent number of free evenings walking around the city, so he can take care of himself. r!ren's jumped around to different locations before settling with living with his sister and niece in a rural area, so i guess he has a more shallow but wider breadth of different kinds of street smarts. he's spent a decent amount of time out here, so he's probably more rural street smart. again, still bad about picking fights, though. so i've gotta dock points for that. so uhhhhhhhhhhh in summary doc! and v!ren have higher book smarts, lower emotional smarts. r!ren has higher emotional smarts, lower street smarts.

(ask game)

[bisexualnamjoonie]

Thank you for your input, it's nice to have a laid-back conversation about it. It's true that we shouldn't expect them to express any aspect of queerness in the same way western artists are doing. I think there's a part of me that is simply tired of the twitter side of fans who basically block any attempt at queerness in guise of "don't assume their sexuality" but will speculate about het relationships lol. I think I'm also tired, as a queer living in Japan, to not be seen so I'm projecting. (1)

(2) and reading your thoughts about it actually remind me to just enjoy things without thinking that much about it. Also, I agree that JITB and Indigo were... some of the most disappointing promos I've ever seen. I still think these albums are the most interesting ones out of them (with Yoongi's album) but once again, the blatant favoritism of the maknae line is showing. JITB was such an incredible album and such an experience, even visually. IT DESERVED BETTER. I'm still listening to it <3

It's always nice to have laid back conversations about things! Stuff don't have to be dramatic all the time, we should be able to talk openly about issues without it being draining emotionally 🥰

Listen ive tried twitter in the past, couldn't get into it anyways, but I never got into army twitter and it sounds like. the worst place 🤪 although I also see a lot of army tweets that are making jokes or memes / pointing out how gay they are so idk? There's still a minority of armies on there that are LGBT+ and will openly refer to the boys as being LGBT+ as well, I guess you just have to find them and block the rest 😂

And oh my god I completely get it!! I mean I might be mixed race but I still live in a western country so like, my experience of queerness and coming out and being outspoken as an artist about it is completely different from yours! It's more that like, in the western side of fandoms, there's this pressure to be out if you wanna be recognize as an LGBT+ artist? And I think that's a dangerous thing to impose on ppl (especially non western artists). But the situation for you is totally different! Obviously the fact that you'd want to have LGBT+ role models/celebrities you like who come from Eastern Asia is completely understandable 🥰 do you know Holland? He's a queer kpop artist and has been really outspoken about his struggles in the past!

JITB deserved SO MUCH better. In general hobi just always gets the short end of the deal tbh, even though in my opinion he is overall the most well rounded and talented one in the group (in that he is artistically very good at both rapping and singing, but also producing and dancing and writing. Like he has it all, he's not the golden hyung for nothing). But he's been sacrificing himself for the sake of maknae line since the beginning, even though musically and artistically he's shown so much more so far and has, in my opinion, a versatility that nobody else in the group has, and he's always been the lest favoured one by both big hit and the fandom. Like so many ppl claim to be ot7 but never give hobi the recognition he deserves and it makes me so mad lol 🤪 but yeah JITB is an incredible album (should have been longer tho 😂)

[yesimwriting]

Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!! 

-- 

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread. 

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing. 

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly. 

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed. 

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds. 

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way. 

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night? 

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark. 

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan. 

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer. 

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty. 

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.” 

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.” 

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.” 

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?” 

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.” 

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down. 

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.” 

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting. 

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit. 

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?” 

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.” 

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” 

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.” 

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.” 

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?” 

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.” 

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” 

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.” 

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second. 

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?” 

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.” 

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?” 

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.” 

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.” 

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.” 

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t. 

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone. 

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways. 

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.” 

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place. 

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more. 

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.” 

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.” 

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.” 

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his  hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me. 

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches. 

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.” 

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.” 

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.” 

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.” 

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.” 

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.” 

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him. 

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact. 

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.” 

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not. 

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…” 

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?” 

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.” 

“More than I should?” 

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.” 

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?” 

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.” 

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.” 

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?” 

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?” 

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.” 

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--” 

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.” 

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.” 

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.” 

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.” 

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.” 

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh. 

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.” 

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown. 

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.” 

“Kirigan--” 

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.” 

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear. 

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it. 

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before. 

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.” 

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine. 

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.” 

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip. 

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.” 

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly. 

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more. 

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.” 

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.” 

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise. 

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.” 

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived. 

“I have to go.” 

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.” 

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--” 

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.” 

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?” 

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.” 

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible. 

 He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is. 

“Soon,” he promises again. 

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

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

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent. 

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it. 

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break. 

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before. 

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt. 

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever. 

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child. 

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life. 

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today. 

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth. 

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth. 

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code. 

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace. 

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.  

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs. 

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment. 

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time. 

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town. 

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips. 

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes. 

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers. 

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change. 

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional. 

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day. 

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot. 

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture. 

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever. 

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent. 

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth. 

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites. 

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out. 

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest. 

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught. 

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?” 

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders. 

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion. 

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink. 

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out. 

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night. 

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary. 

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows. 

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly. 

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite. 

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever. 

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did? 

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable. 

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what. 

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.” 

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container. 

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.” 

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks. 

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…” 

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship. 

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.” 

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.” 

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box. 

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.” 

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp. 

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night. 

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle. 

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully. 

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red. 

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.” 

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.” 

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp. 

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”  

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.” 

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently. 

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait. 

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth. 

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins. 

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity. 

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.” 

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind. 

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.” 

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.” 

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four. 

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.” 

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now. 

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now. 

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.  

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.” 

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.” 

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.” 

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?” 

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.” 

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“Mm-mm. What?” 

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.” 

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense. 

“I fuck them until they break.” 

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it. 

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room. 

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs. 

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.” 

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.  

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.” 

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win. 

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms. 

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.” 

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.” 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside. 

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face. 

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours). 

“You drool in your sleep.” 

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?” 

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep. 

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit. 

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.” 

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it. 

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.” 

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.” 

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.” 

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.” 

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession. 

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike. 

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.” 

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.” 

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak. 

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons. 

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass. 

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end. 

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting. 

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.” 

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name. 

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.” 

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?” 

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?” 

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.” 

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.” 

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.” 

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.” 

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.  

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.” 

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips. 

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that. 

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.” 

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.” 

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil. 

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.” 

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before. 

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.” 

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.  

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know. 

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave. 

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.” 

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again. 

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.” 

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.” 

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?” 

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now. 

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.” 

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop. 

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head. 

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue. 

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?” 

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.” 

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers. 

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.  

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out. 

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips. 

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.” 

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.  

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?” 

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.” 

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it. 

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck. 

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before. 

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.” 

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.” 

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.” 

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.” 

“Whatever.” 

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.” 

“Wow. I feel used.” 

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!” 

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.” 

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.” 

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.” 

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow. 

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?” 

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.” 

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.” 

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?” 

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.” 

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance. 

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.” 

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.” 

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.” 

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house. 

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally. 

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so. 

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece. 

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did. 

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link. 

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings. 

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom. 

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise. 

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.” 

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead. 

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that. 

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.  

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily. 

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video. 

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect. 

“Uber for Y/N?” 

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.” 

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.” 

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.” 

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”  

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her. 

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place. 

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago. 

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.” 

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.” 

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science. 

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement. 

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.” 

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person. 

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger. 

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.” 

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?” 

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.” 

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even. 

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time. 

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism. 

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.” 

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way. 

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her. 

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons. 

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”   

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist. 

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind. 

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.” 

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.” 

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter. 

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip. 

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction. 

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant. 

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin. 

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises. 

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?” 

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.” 

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.” 

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten. 

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils. 

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth. 

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones. 

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”  

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest. 

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.” 

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before. 

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left. 

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to. 

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock. 

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.” 

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one. 

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!” 

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.” 

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all. 

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.” 

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.” 

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.” 

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy. 

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core. 

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming. 

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.” 

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.” 

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo. 

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before. 

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.  

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises. 

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin. 

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture. 

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs. 

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted. 

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs. 

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have. 

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop. 

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him. 

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there. 

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought. 

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding. 

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type. 

“You like Hamilton?” 

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate. 

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly. 

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth. 

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?” 

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.” 

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.” 

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.” 

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!” 

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?” 

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.” 

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.” 

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.” 

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?” 

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?” 

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face. 

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part. 

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along. 

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room. 

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum. 

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again. 

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.” 

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.” 

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them. 

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did. 

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon. 

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer. 

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.” 

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.” 

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.” 

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would. 

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Then & Now (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past

A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.

A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!

~v~

“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”

Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?

“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”

“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”

Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”

“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”

Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.

As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.

They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.

The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”

“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”

“That’d be ideal–”

Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”

The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”

“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”

Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”

“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”

“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”

Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”

“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.

“Well, I am your boss.”

“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”

“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”

Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”

“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”

Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”

Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”

“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”

“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”

“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”

The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.

“We’re calling it a night.”

~v~

Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.

He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.

“Shit!”

He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.

Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”

“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.

“How long did it last?”

“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”

“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”

Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”

Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”

“Gotcha.”

“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”

There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”

“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”

Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.

They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”

The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”

“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”

“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”

Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”

“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”

“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”

“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”

“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”

~v~

“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”

Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.

“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”

“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”

“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”

“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.

“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”

Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.

“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”

“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”

Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.

Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.

“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”

“Okay.”

“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”

“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”

“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”

His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.

They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.

Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”

Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”

“Well what brings you down here?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”

“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”

“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”

“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”

“No thank you.”

“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”

“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”

“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”

The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.

The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.

Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.

The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”

When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”

Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”

“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”

“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”

“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”

The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: Hey Hey, it’s me, ya girl and I’m back with another collab! Ive always loved the roommates theme and have a few ideas for some other ones in my head making this. It’s kinda all over the place because it was a professing with their friendship! Yes I made a Zelda reference and I land about it no. I know Rapp is seen as violent and dense but but this is in a collage au so he’s just a bit...aloof I just love the idea of him actually being a big softie ʕ⊙ᴥ⊙ʔ. I hope you enjoy! ~ bunny ❥

Warnings : NSFW!!! (◎_◎;)

Sweet caring sorta himbo(meh?) Rappa, female oral, Big Dick Rappa , sorta size kink if you really sqint,cheater ex mentioned like once , language

Word count : About 5k! Yikes ^^’

Paring(s) : Kendo Rappa x F! Reader

Enjoy ♡

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Having Kendo Rappa as a roommate is an interesting feat in itself. He is big, and loud , very very loud. He wasn't a bad roommate he just..was like a cute large and fluffy puppy that didn't know his size...or power. Their interactions started as the two met during a halloween party one of the frat houses down the street thew. [ ] went as Midna, her best friend Rumi was dressed as Impa while the last two of her friend group , Amaya and Asa, a pair of sisters, were dressed as fairies. “[ ]! Rumi! you two are so cute! Zelda costumes?” Asa asked as her sister ran up to admire their outfits. “Yeah! [ ] wanted to do some characters that matched us y'know?” She said as she nudged her quiet friend , the girl jumped and laughed , scratching her neck as she gave the excited sisters a small smile “If i was coming out tonight I was gonna wear what i wanted to really wear” [ ] said as the group of them laughed and mingled with their other friends and classmates. While heading to get juice , she heard loud screaming , as the sport boys were starting to show up. First was the football team, then the basketball. Baseball and wrestling came next, then the smaller clubs finished them out. Sighing [ ] was content away from everyone as she watched mayhem ensure, chugging of barrels , more music, girls swarming around the players they crushed on as they did minor things, like talk to their teammates or eating from one of the big food trays laying around. Feeling a tap on her shoulder broke her from her people watching, Rumi giving her a bright smile as she took a cup and joined her. “How's my favorite antisocial babe doing now that all of the party has arrived?” She asked as [ ] gave her a pained smile, going to get more if something to drink “Well I don't feel the need to smack anyone is that a good sign?” she chuckled as she got a hug from the more energetic girl “That's my girl! Don't worry, i wanna get out asap but we’re gonna need our favourite pair of sisters before that can happen and it seems like they're fawning over some of the baseball boys as we speak” Rumi said as they watched a familiar tutu of blue go by, followed by a pink one going a similar way. “I don't get it… but at least their taste in men isn't too bad” [ ] joked as Rumi agreed , laughing “Yeah miss tsundere, you can't stand saps, or most of the jocks either” giving the white haired girl a look she rolled her eyes and gave her own laugh back “Yeah I guess i'm either picky or just got high standards” “Ain't nothing wrong with that we all do!” She said as she elbowed the girl beside her.

As the two of them sat there and talked Rumi glanced past her and her eyes widened, causing [ ] to stop talking “What is it-” before she could question her, the white haired girl jumped up, waving at someone “Rap! Over here!” Constantly yelling to someone [ ] started to ask again when a booming voice came from above her “HEY RUMI” a very loud voice called as stomping could be heard before it stopped “I see you took our idea huh?” With that comment [ ] turned around only to be face to face with a dark cover chest, only to then look up to some of the most warm and amber colored eyes looking down at her “Hello there little lady, I like your costume! Erm..Midna aint it?” The giant ganon dressed man questioned as all she could do was shake her head in agreement, causing the giant male to laugh “Awe don't be shy of me kitten i ain't gonna bite!” He chuckled some more as her friend jumped in “I told you she was shy! Be nice Rappa!” Rumi yelled at the flaming red head as he gave her a toothy grin “Oh I was just teasin’ , I bet I ain't hurt her feelin’s did I sweetheart?” Rappa questioned as [ ] face felt hot, hiding her face in her hands as the teasing duo laughed causing the girl to huff “I'm tired of you two already” She said as a giant warm hand touched her shoulders “Awe dont be like that hun, in time ya’l love me” Rappa teased as he gave her a smile,making her stomach flutter “Yeah! This is who wanted you to meet anyway [ ]! This is Kendo Rappa, our top wrestling boy, Rappa this is my adorable best friend [ ]!” Rumi said as the two gave each other a shy smile , a sly one creeping up on Rumis as she thought to herself “Yeah, this'll definitely happen”

Since then the two had become more acquainted , having many classes together and sharing some similar friends [ ] was used to the bruting and sometimes dense man making a random ( and loud) appearance. As [ ] sat in her mostly empty room thanks to her last roommate moving out after constantly breaking sound rules and getting into it with the girl downstairs for being in her bed with her boyfriend (Yikes) she felt a sense of calm. Closing her chemistry book and letting out a relieved sigh [ ] thought about the fact she was going to get a new roommate, the thought was nerve wracking but also it was exciting as well. It was almost too quiet , having the last room by the stairs meant she didn't have to deal with many people besides her friend group. They weren't loud , unless one of her friends decided to get laid and made way too many sounds, or if their neighbors under them threw parties or also had...extra partners coming around. She definitely could feel she was sorta excited she was going to have a roommate again. The sisters had a room to the left of her while Rumi had the one to the right, sharing it with a girl they knew from math. The rooms were not gender defined, some girls having rooms with guys and vise versa so it made it easy to get a room.

These dorms were also quite spacious, the walls not paper thin and a large enough area space that could house two or maybe even three people. So when she heard a knock on her door she expected it to be her new roommate she was advised would come today. Happily opening the door she was shocked and almost terrified to see just a box, well actually a few boxed stacked hiding whoever it was behind them. But if the faed rustic orange hair and wide shoulders meant anything she knew her new roommate already “K-kendo?” [ ] said as the boxes walked by her , landing with a soft thud as bangs covered the male “[ ]? Is that you?” moving his hair out of the way their eyes had the same expression, shocked. “Uh h-hey there sweetheart why isn't this cute, we’re roomies hun?” he laughed as she couldn't help but give him a smile back. “I never expected to see you as my roommate” [ ] teased as Rappa gave her a hardy laugh “Well it looks like me and you are gonna be close friends here darlin’!” With a wide smile he picked her up and gave her a tight hug, taking her breath away ‘ Oh boy i wonder how this will turn out’ she thought as she was eye leve with her giant puppy like friend, his eyes filled of joy

Which leads into now, [ ] trying her hardest to read up on what her next project could be. As she sat there thinking she heard the tale tell sound of her roommate entering with some of his teammates, the boys loud and rambunctious as they entered. Feeling a heavy hand on her shoulder she looked up to the towering boy that was her roommate, his eyes just as bright as usual. “Hey darlin, we're just gonna talk up sum strats a for the upcoming match and play some games in the back , is that alright?” He asked with pleading eyes as one of his more cocky and jock like friends spoke up “Well youre the man here, dont let some women say if we cant or can be here” Rolling her eyes and proceeding to stand up and push past the wide eyed boy who knew what was going to happen. [ ] took in a breath before opening her eyes to look up to the boy “Well it is my room, i pay shit here and the man over there didnt get this place, so i do choose who can and cant come through my place” She said as she pointed a finger to the boys chest. Trying to push his luck he pushed back against her finger “ I bet you just haven’t gotten a good enough dicking for you to just stay out of the way” He laughed. Before [ ] could hit him hard enough her rust haired friend moved in , clearly towering the boy “Yer better watch yer mouth, she has her right around here, im invatin her space so watch it before there's no place for any of us to relax without rules” He said as the boy sucked up any laughing and nodded his head in understanding. Surprised by her usually aloof roommate [ ] stood back and went back to her work, the other boys scrambling behind kendo as the boy who tried to challenge her jumped to follow, never making a move to mock or do anything again.

The boys picked back up and were having fun in the back room of kendo’s , sighs and groans when they lost and victorious laughs and screams if someone won. Once they all left and everything settle to a quiet rumble as the last few funneled out [ ] could here herself think, reading up on chemistry as she felt a presence behind her. “ ‘M sorry, i didn't know my question wouldve cause a roar outta ya..” Kendo started as she smiled gently, turning to face the wounded boy “Its okay….guess it just lit something in me i always did y'know?” She said with a small laugh as she went to type again, but was stopped by the hulking boy. “I gotta make it up to ya alright? I know i aint say anythin that he did but…. It feels like my fault y'know?” He admitted as his large hand covered hers. “You wont live this down will you?” She questioned as his eyes flickered up to hers, sparking. “Nope, not at all. Lemme treat ya right okay?” For such innocent words [ ] couldnt help the shiver that ran down her back at his words. Maybe it was because he was so close, or that the smell of his cologne was too much, either way her head was spinning as she let him still hold her hand as he tugged her away from her computer , his smile widening as she reluctantly shut the bright screen “Great! Now let's get something to eat im starvin” He rasped out as [ ] gave him a giggle that made the boy stop in his tracks. He always thought she had a cute giggle but this one,for some reason , made his heart and chest feel warm and tight. Ignoring the feeling he took the girl with him, the two headed out to get something to eat as they headed down , the sound of her giggling still running though kendos mind.

Getting a random frantic text from Kendo wasn't unusual, in fact it was quite common for him to do such, which now didn't faze [ ] at all but this one was...particularly odd giving what he was asking ‘Hair? And messy? What in the world is he up to’ [. ] thought to herself as she headed to her shared room with the boy, nervous of what scene she could be entering.

Sighing after his last text she hurried her way to their dorm room and in fact he did leave the door open, making her more nervous as she entered the living room. “Kendo?” [ ] called out as she heard a gruff sound come from her bathroom. Entering was a sight of its own; towels, a bowl of some..substance , bags and bottles of body wash and a one flustered and shirtless Kendo. “[ ]! ‘M so glad yer home here take this” The large man said as he handed her an old toothbrush that was frayed and covered with the same odd substance in the bowl. The lingering smell from the room eventually gave it away ; shampoos. “Uh why do i need this? And why is there shampoo on a toothbrush” She questioned as he groaned, taking the towel off his head as she blinked owlishly at his very faded red orange hair, the color now more of a neon pumpkin. Shaking off extra water caused even more of his hair to fall, landing between his shoulder blades as he gave [ ] a desperate look. “It wont come out, and the more i scub the more...orange i become. I look like a orange peel” He whined as [ ] figured out what he was trying to do

“ You wanna remove the color right? A bowl of shampoo and body wash isnt strong enough” Going into their kitchen she grabbed some baking soda and lemon juice , coming back to the hopeless boy “Let me mix something up ive used before okay? Then we can proceed with your hair” Two and a half hours later the boys hair was now a light peachy orange, just light enough to take up with bleach “Well, if were gonna go for blonde ill go get some bleach and some masks, deep conditioners too, your hair is definitely gonna need it and I don’t want it breaking off because you're impatient to take care of it” she sighed as he was amazed at his hair, running a large hand through the still damp mess atop his head “Wow yer good” He said as she smiled at him, taking her keys “And you have a lot of hair. I'll be back” She said as she hopped up “Wait! Lemme go with you?” He asked but also seemed to demand, pleading eyes looking down at hers as wet hair dropped onto his still bare chest.

Trying not to be hypnotized by where they landed and proceeded to slide down she looked up at her amber eyed friend, who was staring intently as he waited for her answer, soft “Please?” coming from his lips. Sighing dramatically on purpose [ ] laughed at him, giving him a grin “of course you can you big puppy” she said as he picked her up in a hug, a gesture that shows his excitement she's come to learn. Putting her down he went to go to the door before his friend called him out “uhm Kendo? You don’t have on a shirt” she said plainly as he looked at her, raising a brow as he gave his rebuttal “Its hot” He responded. Giving him a side eyed look she turned from him and towards their bedrooms, [ ] sliding into his. Soon she came out with a sleeveless one, throwing it at the hulk of a guy infront of her “You can't come in the store without one” She said as he gave a growl of his own, sliding the shirt over his head as they left their apartment “Well at least ya got me one without sleeves” He huffed as they started back to the door, heading out to finally go to the store to start another process on Kendos hair, the male just excited to finally get rid of his pumpkin hair.

As Kendo sat in the shared living room with [ ] , deep conditioning his hair at her yelling request (‘If you dont re nourish it before you want me to bleach it , I won't do it!’ ) he watched his roommate and now his best friend wanderer around and do housley things for their apartment, the girl content as she cleaned and sorted out things in the kitchen, her body turned away from him as he started to think over how beautiful he thought she was. He want the type to brag or gloat about having so many girls comment on his size , height wised and well sometimes other ways , trying to tempt him to them. All while his friends wanted him to explain how he got the attention from the other gender , Kendo hated to admit it but ,he only wanted his roommates' affection. He knew how put together she was, smart and kind. He saw what her previous boyfriend did, a cheater that didnt take care of the beautiful soul he lived with. He couldnt stand seeing her come home and cry herself to sleep broke his heart, and when he fought the cheater, in the act he didnt feel bad once. Of course it ended their relationship, and [ ] yelled at him for fighting , explaining how he couldve ended in jail for fighting her ex, but he argued it would be worth it.

Sitting and mulling over everything he realized Rumi was right, hed do anything for [ ] but not the same for the other females that passed through his life. She actually, was the first person he did that for and that thought made his head dizzy. Moving from his place on the couch he went to stand in the kitchen, waiting for [ ] to come back from her room. Hearing the iconic sound of her feet pittering across the wooden floor he gave her a lopsided smile as she jumped, smacking into the chest of Kendo. Before [ ] could fall from impacting with his chest he caught her, holding her arm to his chest. “K-kendo! You shouldve told me you were in here! Why are you in here anyway?”[ ] scolded as he laughed, moving out of the shorter girl's way as he started his staring again, this time [ ] noticed him “......What?” She asked as he looked down at her, an unreadable look on his face. “Kendo” she called as he hummed, moving closer “Yer gorgeous” Kendo blurted out as [ ] started to stutter, eyes going wide. Taking teo steps forward he essentially trapped his friend between the corner of their kitchen canopy. “Remember when I fought that bastard of an ex you had?” Kendo asked as he saw [ ]’s eyes go soft , shaking her head “What about him...i'm still mad you almost lost everything just to fight him yknow” she huffed as he poked her cheek “Id do it again if it meant you'd be happy again yaknow” Kendo said as he leaned down to push his head against hers, amber and [ ] eyes mingling. Lifting his large hands he traced each side of her cheek, analyzing over her face as he nuzzled against her nose “Stop playin hard to get would ya? Bad enough you got my heart all in your little hands” he whispered as [ ] just started at the giant , her arms gently coming over to cover his that were place on her cheeks “K-ken..i need to start you hair..” She hopelessly try to argue as he groaned, burying his face into her neck. Squealing at his damp hair touching her shoulder [ ] jumped ,pushing the large boy back “Your hair's wet!” She whined as he chuckleed, mo\ving back as it turned into a booming laugh “Oh my ‘m sorry babe , you look surprised” He said as she smacked hsi chest “Go to the sink, i need to rinse the conditioner” She yelled as he hwld his hands up in a mocked surrender, pulling his shirt up and off in one fluid movement. Caught up by him stripping his shirt off [ ] gave him a glance over, the heaviness of him admitting feelings for her in his own unique way still lingering in her mind as the toned and strong back of her friend made her head hazy. Turning around from the lack of notice of his smaller friend Kendo caught the eys of [ ] staring, her eyes quickly flickering to his curious ones as he grinned “See somethin you like darlin?” He teased as she grunted, reaching up to push his head in the sink “Shut up and let me do your hair”

And like clockwork, Kendo rappa was an icy blonde after two days, a break given to his long ,thick and wavy hair, the giant boy looking over his new look as he sighed happily, loving to have his hair finally look normal. “Well damn [ ]! Ya made it even better than what i was thinking. Look! My hair’s all wavy at the ends and it's soft! Whatever you made me do made it feel better!” He raved as the girl looked over her work. And in fact it was highly even, his hair consistent and lavishy soft. Giving him a shy look she giggle “That's what a deep conditioner will do to damage hair and the way i'm always untangling your hair for you, i knew it would need it before you wanted to go white” She said as he just kept running his hands in his hair, turning back to her “I could just kiss you right now!” He blurted out as they both froze at his words, eyes wide from both parties “I-I aint mean it [ ]” He croaked out as she giggled, stepping back from him “O-of course you didnt, why would you i mean aha..”She said as she moved away more , his own words started to hit him as he realized the reverse effect it was having “NO! No, I'd want to kiss you, I really really want to. I just...want it to be on your terms okay?” he said as he grabbed her arm, holding her in front of him as if she'd float away if he didnt.

“Kendo...I..” [ ] started as she came back to his hip, laying between his legs onto his thankfully covered chest “I just dont want to lose you if you decide you wouldnt want me around” She whispered as he pulled her even closer, kissing her forehead as he stared at her “Dont you ever say that again ya hear me? Youll be my princess and ill be your humble er..knight” He hesitated as he tried to think of a sweet way to explain his feelings. [ ] looked up to him as she felt here eyes feel heavy with tears. Before one even fell Kendo pushed his lips as soft as the strong boy could, wrapping a large and beefy arm around her waist as he slipped his tongue in her mouth, letting his hand slide down to pull her up to sit on the tops of his thighs while he leaned against his dresser. Softly [ ] pushed her hand on his chest and pulled away, now eye to eye with Kendo “Sorry , d-did i overstep my place” He asked as she let out a snot, before laughing. Confused, Kendo went to talk before she stopped him “No no, youre good, just that if we keep kissing on this dressed there's gonna be a hole in the wall” She said as she pointed to where the mirror kept tapping a spot, scrapes already aroring it “R-right!” He laughed too, picking her up to set her on his bed “Now then...lemme serve you princess” He said before kissing her again, not letting her rebuttal his own comment. As the two kissed he made sure to be as gentle as he could be , at times clumsily nipping her lip or his hand pulling hard at her clothes.

All in the name of wanting to show how much she meant to him. Soon he pulled away, a small string of saliva strung between them from the hearty kissing. “[ ]...i think i love you” He said as she gave him a soft look , trying to catch her breath from the dramatic kiss they came from “Good, because i love your loud ass too Kendo” She teased as he smirked,leaning down to bite her neck, causing her to moan loudly “We’ll see whos loud after im done wit ya” he gave his own tease back as he moved between her plump thighs, kissing the flesh there as he pulled her shorts to the side, exposing her flushed lower lips. Gasping she reached for his hand that held her legs apart causing the fresh blonde to look up at her, eyes wandering over her face for signs of him to stop “I-Im not used to being this bare sorry..” She whimpered out as it dawned on the other side of her words “Have you ever ate out baby?” he asked as she hid her face from him, shaking ehr head as he groaned, pulling her shorts down as he saw her lacy panties , a smirk placed on his lips as he peeled them off too, a string of arousal keeping them plastered to her lips “fuck, that bastared really didnt take care of you” he growled as she sat up to see his darkening eyes kiss up to her lips whispering out a “but i will” as he sucked one of her lips into his mouth, causing a lound moan from the woman he was inbetween. Slowly he licked up her lips, searching for that small pearl as she whined, a hand coming down to tug his hair. Grunting he soon found it, sucking onto her clit as she gasped, her thighs shutting over his head as he looked up to her, watching as her back arched off of the bed once her pressed his tongue hard against her clit. Softly he let a hand run under her thigh, a single thick finger tracing over her twitching hole as he pushed it in gently, making [ ] squeal. “K-Ken!” She called out as he looked up again, catching her eyes and flushed face on his actions. Making a show of what he was doing he let a second one join the first as he sucked hard on her bud at the same time making [ ]’s eyes roll back as her hand fell from his head, nervous od pulling too hard. Kendo however had other plans. Feeling her walls tighten around his fingers he made sure to find that spongy spot and hitting it, finally pulling his lips from her clit as he smiled “Uuh Uh doll, look at me” He growled as she hesitantly glances at him, regretting that she did. He looked way too good, hair a mess as he was panting, catching his breath from being down on her. With evry pump of his fingers his muscle in his arm twitched, making her own walls spasm as she watched it “Ya like it sweetheart?” He asked as she shook her head, watching him move back to her pussy “Good, cause i aint done” He said as he gave her clit kitten licks beofe slurping on it, throwing a wink at her as he picked up his pace, making [ ]’s voice rise as she felt herself getting close before quickly snapping at a particular hard thrust of his finger to her spot on her walls.

Letting out a light scream she came over his fingers and tongue, the male laughing gleefully as he sucked up her juices. LEtting her come down some he watched her face as bliss spread through her body and a sense of confidence whent though his. Slowly he picked up the pace of his fingers again, going from a shallow push to more stroking as he heard [ ] whine, grabbing at his hand “Uh uh sweetheart, you taste too good fro me to only let you cum on my tongue once” he said as he pushed her down by her stomach, letting her take his spare hand as he went back to suckling on her lower lips. He knew he had a lot in stored for her, and watching the newly admitted love of his life cum from his pleasing was enough for him to realized he needed to do more. Popping off her clit as puling his fingers gently out he looked at her ravished body, using his non wet hand to pull at his sweats. “Youre beautiful like this [ ]” kendo said as she took in heavy breaths, feeling her throat close as he stroked his massive size, rubbing the swollen head as he looked at her , giving her a soft smile “Ya dont have to take me just yet , hes just throbbin too much” He groaned as he twisted his hand hard over his leaking tip, feeling himself throb as he laid back on his bed. “Ride my face?” he asked with one of the most sinful looks [ ] had ever seen ; lustful eyes watching her as his large hand stroked his larger dick, the soft and fleshy muscle jumping at watching her crawl to him, throwing a leg over his neck

“I-i dont wanna suffocate you..” She said as he smirked before saying “Ya cant suffocate me i want it” Soon he grabbed her hip, pushing her onto his awaiting mouth as he picked up his pace, sliding his tongue into her twitching hole as she rocked her hips, keeping a steady pace as she held herself on his shoulder and headboard, ,depreate moand and cries tumbling out as he rocked her too, going from her clit to her dripping entrance, stoking his dick harder and harde as her moans spurred him on. Soon he felt the bud in his mouth twitch and throb harder, the sounds [ ] made increasing as his own hand sped up with his throbbing head, the telltales of them both getting close. A moan erruptred from the girl on his lips as she came again , her essence running down his face as he groaned, ropes of cum shooting onto his hand and stomach as he came himself, still stroking out what he could as the pressure he felt subside. Sliding off softly [ ] saw the mess behind her, taking it upon herself to lick up some of it as she was met with his same aber eyes, watching her move to his still hard member “Let me take care of you too?” she asked shyly. Fuck he was done for as he felt himslef hardend worse at her words, a large hand coming up to smack her ass as he psuhed her up and over his head, letting his tip and her swollen lips run over eachother. Slowly he pushed his tip past her budding lips, entranced by the way it swallowed her whole “Fuck...i love you [ ] and by the time im done with ya...youll know it” he whispered in her ear as she felet him push, more and moreof his large size spreading her lips father than shed ever had. Her eyes rolled up as she felt him bottom out, both moaning as he picked up his pace, making a soothing rhythm as little moans and whines came from [ ], deep grunts coming from Kendo as he kissed her shoulders and back, marking where he could as he felt himself get closer with how she was throbbing over his member.

Digging his fingers as deep as he could in her plush hips he let our a mantra of ‘Cummin’ i and ‘ I love yous’ in her ear as she pushed back against him, feeling herself teetering as he pushed as deep as he could go ,letting himself cum as she came too, the overwhelming feeling of him throbbing against her spongy walls and previous orgasms enough to push her over a third time. “[ ]” Kendo rasped as [ ] hummed , feeling her legs still shake with him in her “Im serious, i'm never leaving you...you're mine and i love you…” kendo said as he kissed the back of her neck, nibbling her ear as he stayed in her “Mhm….i love you too Rappa..”

[your-phantomfield]

TSUBAKI = YAYOI

i .. ii .. iii circa 2198 for @nkn0va

Dating Tsubaki Yayoi...

I.

Tsubaki grew up sheltered and incredibly lonely; an only child in a house that should have been full with her siblings, a cloistered princess in the garden of a radically conservative family. Even as she grew, her status and conviction pushed many away, leaving her with precious few friends.

All of this is to say, Tsubaki has so, so much love to give, and desperately wants to connect with someone. As a lover, her heart is tremendous.

From the moment you start dating, Tsubaki approaches your relationship as a lifelong partnership. Even if you two were to ever break up, you’d have to do something truly terrible to ever lose her as a friend. Once she loves you, she’ll love you all her life.

II.

She’s actually very shy.  She might initiate a little teasing, and she’s constantly admiring you, so compliments are given freely and often- but touch is complicated for her.  Hand holding, hugging, kissing, cuddling, that’s just not the way she was raised.  The Yayois don’t really hug.

This isn’t to say that she doesn’t enjoy physical affection- honestly, it’s one of the fastest ways to break her composure. She gets flustered quickly.

It’s just that unless you’re into a real slowburn, you’ll have to be the one to initiate most of what we’d consider ‘normal’ relationship activities.  Do go for it, though.  She is so touch starved.  Pet her head and watch her stutter.  Hug her, especially from behind, and catch the exact moment her heart stops completely.

Maybe go a little easy on her, though.  Everything she knows about romance comes from the historical dramas she loves to watch, or poets like Natsume Soseki, infamous for arguing that saying “I love you” directly was much too forward for Japanese sensibilities.  Her media consumption (and the daydreaming it’s inspired) has left her with a kind of 'storybook' idea of how these things work.

III.

Tsubaki does instigate affection- just, in her own way. She approaches those she loves gently. Where another lover might go for a hug or kiss, Tsubaki expresses the same sentiments by brushing dust off your shoulder, adjusting your clothes- or your hair, if she’s feeling incredibly intimate.

Her desire to be near you is expressed by taking care of you. She loves how you look, and she wants everyone to see you as she does, so she encourages you to look your best. If she could wash your hair or your back, that would be the most romantic thing in the world to her.

Her default as a caretaker can lean a little into her starting to nag you, though. Even if you’re in public, if you end up with some food on your face, she’s going to try to wipe it off. She’ll be horribly embarrassed once she realizes what she’s done, and she will apologize- but is she really that sorry? She can't help herself. She thinks you’re cute and she loves to be needed.

IV.

Tsubaki sees a relationship as a partnership. She sees so much good in you, and so much potential for even more amazing things. As far as she’s concerned, you could move mountains if you wanted to. So she wants to do everything in her power to make sure you’re living as your best self- and she really appreciates it if you can offer her the same push.

As mentioned above, this can manifest in some arguably annoying ways; she’s always reminding you to sit up straight, to speak clearly, to apologize less, not to procrastinate, etc.

On the more positive side of things, you will never meet someone more genuinely invested in your life. Tsubaki remembers every interest you share with her, and asks about them often. She wants to know what you did during the day, what you plan to do during the week. Even for hobbies she doesn’t understand, she’ll do her best to learn the lingo and keep an eye out for any events you might be interested in. Any project you’re working on, no matter how trivial you may consider it, she’ll be genuinely excited to see how it goes.

There's a bit of a cute double standard here, actually. Even though she thinks its obvious that she'd be interested in your hobbies, she finds it hard to believe that you would be interested in hers. Even the confident Tsubaki can get a little anxious sometimes. If you offer her some of that same investment and encouragement, she thinks you're some kind of saint.

V.

Speaking of her hobbies. Did you know she loves to paint? She may want to keep this to herself for some time, assuming you wouldn’t be interested in her silly little hobby, but she will eventually set out to paint something specifically for you. Something heartfelt, something connected to good memories. Maybe a landscape of a place you’ve gone on a date, or just somewhere special to you.

More than anything else, she’d love to paint you. She spends a lot of time admiring you and thinking about how she’d do it; where she’d start, what colors to use or mix, what background would suit you the best.

Of course, this can be a difficult ask. I don’t know if you’ve ever been on display like that, but the mutual awareness of the fact that she’s staring at you, taking in every detail, for so long, can be a vulnerable thing for both parties involved. And even then, she’d feel so bad for asking you to stay still, probably bored out of your mind, for the hours it would take to give your portrait the consideration it deserves.

When she does finally paint you, it’s the most romantic date she could ever dream of- and though she probably won't ever tell you, she has been dreaming of it.

She’ll chat with you quietly, teasing a bit if you seem embarrassed. Despite all her worrying before the event, she’s in her element here. You look amazing, and she knows that, so it’s adorable (and quite funny) to see you unsure of such an obvious truth.

VI.

Tsubaki has always imagined a certain path for her future. She would fall in love. Get married. Have children. Raise another generation to do good in the world, and never be lonely again.

Meeting you only strengthened that image. Now there was a face to imagine at the altar. Someone's taste to consider as she fine tuned the wedding in her head. Whether or not you and Tsubaki could have children together in our time, by the BlazBlue era there are numerous magical aids for family planning, and she often wonders about what kind of parent you'll be.

This is something she's always wanted.  This is something she's looked forward to.  Something she's proud she can promise you.  A bright future.

VII.

Of course, her status as a member of the Yayoi family presents some difficulties.  Dating any member of the Duodecim means entering into a life of court politics and all the manipulation and animosity that entails, even if you’re already coming from a high status family.  This is the top of the top.  And if you aren’t coming from a high status family, there are questions about your suitability at every turn.

And then there’s the main issue for a Yayoi. Tsubaki’s father still firmly believes in their family’s tradition, the Yayoi family’s pride; the Yayoi family are excellent with Ars Magus. They marry specifically to ensure that the next generation is just as exceptional as the last.

Raised in this mentality from her birth, Tsubaki does believe in her family traditions wholeheartedly. Her interpretation of things are shockingly innocent, though. She sees you in the best possible light all the time. Anything you enjoy, anything you’re skilled in, she sees as an exceptional talent. Who could be more worthy of the family name than you? Any hobbies you have related to physical activity prove your health and strength, any mental or artistic hobbies prove your genius.

Regardless of your skill in Ars Magus, in the absolute worst case scenario where her father is… hesitant, to accept you, she is willing to argue him on this one thing. The NOL themselves have asked that the Yayois loosen up on their marriage criteria over the past few generations, and it’s obvious to her that you are an incredible match who would honor the Yayoi legacy. She just needs to explain it to her father. She’s positive he will understand.

VIII.

Most of these are set in the year 2198, before Calamity Trigger.  But let's take a moment to jump ahead one year.  To 2199.  The year she received the hardest mission of her life.  The year she picked up the Izayoi.

The moment the weight of the Izayoi settles into her hands for the first time, that bright future she longs to share with you becomes clouded.

She goes to see you before she heads for home to retrieve the Izayoi. Before she starts her mission.

One last careless, happy day together before she'll have blood on her hands. Before the nightmares of a confidential mission she'll never be allowed to tell you about. One last look at your perfect, smiling face before she may never be able to see it again.

[plush-rabbit]

Kurogiri - Headcanons

Warning: Brief mention of AFAB on NSFW 2

A/N: Kurogiri is a really interesting characters while i dont keep up with vigilantes, i do know who he is supposed to be or who he was and i think it would be really interesting seeing the immediate aftermath of the whole thing and while I love the dadgiri headcanons, i would love to see the actual interaction between him and shiggy but given what the doctor(?) or someone honestly ive forgotten rn, they did state that kuro has the habit of babying shiggy or something of the like and i wish we could see more but uh,, yeah!! Enjoy!!

-

SFW:

As a partner, Kurogiri is very attentive. Always watching and listening, he knows very well what you like and dislike. He keeps a close eye on you, always knowing what you need before you can even voice it. He cares deeply for you and while he can be rather stoic and at times have an underlying of a harsh tone in his voice, he cares for you and will make sure that your needs are met. 

While he knows what you like and dislike, he does have trouble communicating. It’s often difficult for him to express what exactly he’s trying to communicate to you about his feelings. He’ll clear his throat, hold his hand out and with the buttercup yellow mist that makes his eyes might not be easy to determine their view, you know that he’s looking at you. His smoke tends to become a bit unruly, thicker as it puffs out, and there’s a nervous tap of his shoe against the floor. It’s times like these where he’ll simply nudge you into speaking first, wanting to hear what you have to say and then going off on that.

Oftentimes, you’ll find small gifts strewn about your home. Nothing extraordinary, just small, simple things that he knows you would enjoy. He’ll wrap the gift, place a nice bow on it and write a simple to and from note on it, and leave it on your bed. It’s both a selfish and selfless reason why he does this. He likes knowing that you enjoy what he’s gotten you but he enjoys it more when you come to him, hugging him and smiling up at him, thanking and praising him for the sweet gesture.

Late nights are spent together where he tells you what he can remember and talking about the upcoming future. He has complete faith in Shigaraki’s goal, and will follow him until the end, but because of that, he also knows that he’s willing to sacrifice himself for the young man. He doesn’t talk about reality, but rather fiction when speaking of the future. He’ll speak of owning a cat, making coffee for you and taking you on a proper date. He knows that you must know it’s all fiction from the way that you hold his hand tighter when he speaks of it, the way that you kiss him and how he’s certain that he can feel something wet touch his smoke for a second before it’s gone.

Kurogiri is highly devoted to you. He has a fair number of people that he’s grown to care for in his dead heart, and he’s loyal to every single one. But it’s different with you. For some reason, he feels as if he’s being split into two and he leans into you during these times. He holds your hand, something solid against something less than that, something less that you and he knows that he can’t remember much and when he tries to he’s left in pain, but he promises to himself that he’ll always remember you. It’s the few times that you can see him so deep in thought, your hand held in his, feeling the wisps of his smoke ghost over you.

NSFW:

Kurogiri isn’t necessarily the type to act out any wild fantasies but when he is in a rather frisky mood, he will use a portal during sex. He’ll have your upper half through one, splitting your body in half so your face is against his, and he’s inside of you, gipping your hips. Likes the intimacy of it, having the ability to have you from behind while also kissing your lips and seeing your expression. His quirk has many benefits and being able to have you in such a vulgar form is just one of them.

Due to experimentation, he is essentially infertile and due to that, he is free to spill inside of you without worry of an upcoming child. Perhaps, a part of him once wanted children, always helpful, a thought that lingers is blown away when you cusp his face and kiss him with needy lips and pull him close to you. The thought is ruined, gone with a simple kiss as he holds you close and pinches at your nipples, the smoke in the air becoming thicker as it surrounds you. He’ll spill inside of you, watching as semen escapes through your fluttering sex and spills onto his thighs.

He has the stamina of a never tiring man. While he mostly prefers to go for a few rounds, he is no stranger to going until you’re orgasms are nothing but quivers that shake your body, and your eyes heavy with drowsiness. He can go for hours, holding onto your hips and letting his hands roam your body, his thumbs barely grazing over your already overstimulated causing you to moan out his name all while your eyes fill with tears. He can be forgiving but he mostly falls onto the crueler, more uncaring side of his, wanting nothing but to vent his frustration against your willing body that clings and sounds his name so sweetly until your voice is hoarse and tear stains have made their mark on your lovely, flushed face.

As mentioned prior, Kurogiri has moments where he can lose himself with you, to endlessly pump himself inside of your twitching sex until you’ve orgasmed so much that tremors are now a familiar feeling. He has moments where he can be sweet, to press his face against yours in a mock kiss, to hold your hand and let his honeyed eyes look into yours as he promises to make you feel good. There are early mornings- or rather late nights- where he has to rise, where his body has surpassed the need for sleep but you lay on his chest, your hand lazily pumping at his shaft until he decides to turn you over and slip himself into your entrance, pre glistening on your skin like pearls.

Perhaps one of the best things about Kurogiri- when it comes to the bedroom, that is- is the wispy nature of the caring man has allowed him to become a grower in ways that benefit both him and you. Quite large as is, when deep into you, it’s almost as if he expands, trying to fill your entire being with his cock. His cock is slender, bulging towards the end, the tip flared as creamy, pale semen drips from the slit and down to the middle. He fills you so nicely, your gummy walls already molded to his shape only to leak upon him the more he grows aroused, his cock expanding in girth as it stretches your tight hole.

[ruewrites]

Wait asks being open means requests are open right??? If yes OH MY GOD IVE BEEN PRAYING FOR THIS DAY SINCE AGES

Could you pls pls pls pls do a dialuci fic except it's a royal au? Like dia and Luci are set to get married but Luci didn't want to until he saw Dia?? I know this isn't your primary ship but it would mean the WORLD to me (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡

Meeting His Prince

AO3

Ship: Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 2008

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi Anon! First of all, thank you. When I finished up WBT, I was thinking about writing a royalty au, and this request acutally made me plot it out. I guess this will be a psuedo prequel to it? But I want Dialuci to be a ship in it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Lucifer had his clothing pressed and his crown polished. A crowned prince had to make a good impression being the shining jewel of the growing empire of Arcadia. Yet it wasn’t his clothing that worried his father. It was Lucifer’s expression.

To say he was happy was far from correct. Lucifer never gave much thought to marriage. Honestly, he’d be happy ruling Arcadia without anyone by his side. He’d spent much of his time caring for his siblings and learning how to rule over the kingdom, so an heir wasn’t an idea he was fond of. It was something he knew had been expected of him as well. Producing a strong line of future kings and queens to lead Arcadia had been in the stars for him according to his father. 

Perhaps he had read the stars wrong.

The memory of Father bursting through the palace doors uttering curses under his breath. Apparently the prince had been rather persistent with his demands. His father wanted to make an alliance with this kingdom horribly so. Apparently the prince was rather effective in the way he ruled and was a skilled strategist. He would be a powerful addition to Arcadia, but he was stubborn once he’d made his decision. Strategist indeed if he could get the King of Arcadia to give into his demands. The anger in the king’s eyes when he told Lucifer that he had been chosen burned Lucifer’s very soul.

Lucifer knew where this anger was coming from, not that he cared all that much. He’d never really given too much thought to what his paternal figure wanted from him. Why start now?

His siblings had all had varying reactions: sighing about the ‘romance’ of the situation, poking fun at him, and in some cases offering sympathy. He just wanted to stay neutral about it. The end goal for him was to be a worthy future king of Arcadia, this was just a stepping stone he had to take to get there. Other issues surrounding this engagement could be figured out with time. He had time. He just needed to stay level headed. 

He hadn’t noticed the clock ticking down to his wedding day, he hadn’t even realized that he’d never met his fiance despite the flood of letters that were sent his way once a month.  It seemed odd. Lucifer wasn’t really sure how to react to the attention and aggressive affection. The entire situation felt more like a relationship with a paramour rather than an arranged marriage for the good of their kingdoms. For now, it was best to push it to the back of his mind and deal with it when the time came. There wasn’t any point in fighting anything lest he cause conflict that would certainly affect more people than just him. 

Ah the life of being a royal.

Lovely wasn’t it? 

The day of the foreign prince’s arrival, Lucifer spent hours pacing around the palace overlooking every tiny detail. Of course he could change his mind at any moment and Lucifer couldn’t have that happen. This was for the good of Arcadia. He glanced over the arrangement of food on the table one last time before letting out a sigh. 

Composure was key.

He was the pride of Arcadia.

Nothing could break him.

Nothing could throw him off guard.

Nothing-

“Lucifer!”

Lucifer didn’t even have time to process the situation. Strong arms wrapped around him, suffocating him in a tight embrace. He struggled, gasping for air and attempting to escape from the steel grip capturing him. When he did manage some distance, his hair was a mess and his clothes were disheveled. 

Golden eyes met his own, sparkling like gold coins reflecting the summer sun. 

“You’re even more beautiful in person,” the other prince’s voice came out as a whisper, as firm hands gently cupped his face, “You’re as radiant as an angel-”

He was a puppy. A giant puppy. 

“Oh how lucky I am to be married to such a gorgeous man.”

“We’re not married yet,“ Lucifer hoped he didn’t sputter as he pulled away.  This was hardly the professional meeting he’d been expecting. This was their first time meeting before their wedlock, and Lucifer had been thrown off balance.

He could do professional.

He couldn’t do whatever… whatever this was.

“Well, we’ll be married soon.”

“Your Highness-”

“Diavolo.”

Lucifer stopped in his tracks. All he could do was stare at those big shiny eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Please call me by my name. I’d like to hear how perfect it sounds on your tongue,” Diavolo repeated.

Heat rose into Lucifer’s face and he hoped it didn’t show. Quickly, he turned away and started walking towards one end of the table. “In any case, you’ve had a long trip. Why don’t-”

No sooner had Lucifer sat than Diavolo swooped in to scoot a chair closer to him. This man really didn’t have any sense of personal space did he? This was unfamiliar territory. Lucifer expected him to sit on the opposite end, allowing him to keep some distance between them. That’s how people were to stay. At a nice, respectable distance to be observed and to exchange pleasantries, but no closer. Diavolo was a stranger, yet he refused to act like one.

“I want to know everything about you,” Diavolo sounded as if he was marvelling at a being from another word. It was an unsettling feeling, “You’re favorite music, what you like to do in your free time, everything about you.”

Lucifer scooted away ever so slightly. Diavolo followed. 

“Why would you care about any of that?” 

This was business.

“Because we’re getting married.”

That didn’t mean he had to know anything about Lucifer.

But Diavolo had a nice laugh. It was booming and made Lucifer’s lips twitch upward ever so slightly. Everything about him was warm. Warmth Lucifer had never known before. 

He tried to touch his face once more, Lucifer turned away. It was instinct. Lucifer wasn’t accustomed to being touched. 

“You act like no one’s ever acted like this with you before!”

“That’s because no one has,” his eye glanced toward Diavolo, “My family isn’t exactly touchy.”

More specifically his father. He didn’t like touchiness, he thought it would make them weak. Therefore, physical affection wasn’t common when their father was around, especially not with Lucifer. He was their crown prince. He needed to be strong and rule without anything in his way. 

Diavolo’s demeanor changed, his shoulders fell, his eyes widened, and his mouth fell.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not anything worth pitying. It happened and there’s nothing that can be done to change it,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair, “It’s what he thought best for the future of Arcadia.”

You threw a wrench in his plans.

And for that, well, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied. After pushing him and his siblings to follow certain path all of their lives, it was nice to see something not go as planned for a change. Lucifer wouldn’t be having heirs, and that was fine by him.  Any interruption counted as a victory for him, no matter how small. 

“I am sorry,” Diavol’s voice was more even and calmer than it had been before, “For how I have been behaving though. It must have been startling to you. Please forgive me.”

Lucifer turned his head back towards him and quirked his eyebrow.

“My own father was very affectionate when I was young, I suppose I just miss it, and I’d like to share that with you, if you’ll allow me.”

Lucifer thought for a moment, allowing silence to permeate in the room. If asked, he’d say he did it to make Diavolo sweat, but in reality he was genuinely thinking it over. “I suppose, perhaps with time.”

The way he beamed made Lucifer’s heart skip a beat, “Then let’s get to dinner and start to know each other a little better, shall we?”

***

Enjoying the evening had not been on Lucifer’s list of things to do, but he wouldn’t complain.

“You like dogs? I could get you a dog as a wedding present.”

Lucifer laughed, “Father wouldn’t allow it. He’s not fond of animals.”

“Well he can’t stop me from getting a present that you would like. “

This man defying his father? Heavens help them. Perhaps Lucifer liked him a little more than he thought. It wasn’t something he was used to. He’d never had a relationship like this before. This was the first time he felt like he’d had a genuine conversation with someone outside of his family. For once, Lucifer felt a little relaxed. 

Diavolo was genuinely interested in what Lucifer liked. He wrote down how Lucifer took his tea, wanted to listen to all of his favorite songs with him, and what he liked to do in his free time. He wanted to play chess with him and spend time with him in any way he could.

It made Lucifer’s feel warm and his chest lurch. He loved the smile that found its way onto his face and how Diavolo’s voice surrounded him. Perhaps he’d found a new favorite song.

He felt like he’d known Diavolo for ages.

He made it easier for Lucifer to breathe.

“Diavolo-”

Diavolo froze. His eyes went wide again, “You said my name.”

Lucifer didn’t get a chance to move before he was being lifted off the ground and spun in the air. Diavolo’s booming laugh surrounded them. 

“Oh you said my name! And it was perfect! More than perfect!” he lowered Lucifer only to bring him into a kiss. Now it was Lucifer’s turn to freeze. His face quickly turned red as his eyes flew open. He stiffened, and tried to bring himself back. He’d never been kissed before. A crown prince had to be careful when it came to his image, and he’d had more important things to focus on than starting romances that would lead to nowhere. He’d always known he’d be married off to someone else, so he didn’t really see a point in seeking out others for romance.

Lucifer never thought about what it would be like to be kissed.

He wasn’t exactly sure about what to think now. 

When Diavolo pulled away the terror seemed to set it. “Oh I’m sorry! I- I went too far-” 

As he mumbled, Lucifer felt himself come back. It was when he realized how nervous the other prince was.  He was energetic and was the opposite of Lucifer himself. Instead of going silent like Lucifer did, Diavolo seemed to ramble even more. With a chuckle and the shake of his head, Lucifer put his finger tips under Diavolo’s chin and brought his focus back to him. 

Lucifer wasn’t one to be won over so easily, but there was something about this man that made him think their union wouldn’t be a bad one. Perhaps he could make his life a little more interesting. 

If he could force his father into doing something that he didn’t want to do, like agreeing to the condition of Diavolo getting to marry his crown prince, Lucifer figured he would like him.

“I will have to kiss my husband eventually, you’re an awfully excitable man Diavolo. I think I quite enjoy that about you,” he smiled, before placing a gentler kiss onto his lips. 

If Diavolo wanted to play the role of adoring husband Lucifer wouldn’t stop him. Maybe marriage wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Perhaps he could rule Arcadia with another person effectively after all.

When they pulled away, Lucifer caressed his face, “I think I could see myself participating in acts of affection in private.”

He and Diavolo walked a little closer on the rest of their stroll, and he found himself leaning into his shoulder every now and again. 

Perhaps he could get used to this.

Perhaps he would lead Arcadia into a new age, and be an even better ruler with Diavolo at his side.

It would be a future to look forward to.

[nekomc]

scenario : you are shy and do not believe that you have a chance with them ft. o. tooru, b. koutarou, k. tetsurou (f!reader)

T. OIKAWA

➞  oikawa was quite easy to find, due to the constant swarm of girls that surrounded him

➞  you silently wished that you had the confidence they had to go up to him

➞  because you were so shy, you felt as though you didn’t have a chance to talk to him, let alone be with him

➞  so it really surprised you when oikawa came up to you in class one day

➞  “yoohoo! you’re yn right? someone said that you’re good at this, can you help me?”

➞  you could only nod at first out of shock because oikawa just came up to you!! was this even real?

➞  it wasn’t that awkward, since oikawa was quite the talker, and knew how to fill the silence

➞  he was still attentive, though, and really appreciated your help

➞  so the next day, when he had trouble again, he came up to you once again for help

➞  this time, you broke out of your shell a little, contributing more to the conversation and throwing in a joke or two

➞  your heart swelled when oikawa would laugh and seemed interested in what you had to say

➞  oikawa started to come to you during class and breaks regularly, sparking up a conversation more often than asking for help

➞  you became more and more comfortable around oikawa, and you noticed that your confidence has grown the more time you spent with him

➞  one day, he invited you to a game, and of course you agreed, although you were a bit hesitant at first

➞  on the day of the game, you felt a bit out of place, since you didn’t know much about volleyball

➞  but you still tried your best to cheer him on 

➞  you try to meet him at the end of the game, but once you found him, he was already surrounded

➞  you immediately became disheartened and started to walk away

➞  but oikawa caught sight of you and called you over, asking you to wait for a bit, since he didn’t want to be rude to his fans

➞  when the crowd dispersed, he gave you a big smile and a hug

➞  “yn-chan, you came! did you have fun? you should come to our next game!”

➞  you felt a bit better as he asked you about the game, but he still noticed that you were feeling a bit down

➞  unfortunately, before he could ask about it, he had to leave

➞  the next day, he asked about it during class

➞  you felt uncomfortable talking about it with the chance of your classmates hearing, and told him so

➞  so you both decide to talk about it in the short period of free time he had after school

➞  “yn-chan, did something happen at the game?”

➞  what were you supposed to say? that you felt as though you weren’t confident? that you wished you had more courage to take the chance with him?

➞  instead, you said, “i was just tired after all the cheering, that’s all!”

➞  he saw through your lie, and he didn’t want you to continue feeling whatever negative emotion you were feeling, even though he wasn’t sure what it was yet

➞  his expression became serious

➞  “yn, don’t lie. what’s bothering you?”

➞  you didn’t want to lie again

➞  he put a lot of effort into building your friendship, and truly cared about your feelings

➞  so you told him the truth

➞  you told him how you used to feel as though being shy meant that you would never be able to be friends with him

➞  you wished that you had the confidence to come up to him to talk to him instead of the other way around, like his fans

➞  and you still felt as though the confidence you’ve gained through your friendship wasn’t enough to go to a relationship of beyond friends

➞  you didn’t realize that you had basically confessed to wanting something more than being friends until oikawa’s eyes widened

➞  “yn-chan, was that a confession?”

➞  you were too shocked at your own choice of words that you couldn’t speak

➞  he laughed, and said, “ah, you’re so cute! but i can’t believe you beat me to it!”

➞  “...beat you to it?”

➞  “to the confession. i like you too, yn.”

➞  before you could respond, he received a call from iwaizumi, telling him to hurry to practice

➞  you were left standing there, stunned

➞  oikawa called you after practice, and he told you that being shy isn’t something that has to be an obstacle

➞  he loved seeing you slowly breaking out of your shell as your friendship grew 

➞  he promised that he would still continue to help you build your confidence until you were comfortable with who you were

➞  “hopefully, i’ll be able to do that as your boyfriend, and not as just your friend. is that ok, yn-chan?”

➞  of course, you told him yes

➞  oikawa kept his promise throughout your relationship

➞  you were grateful to have him by your side, helping you become more comfortable and confident with your relationship with him, and most importantly, yourself

B. KOUTAROU

➞  you and bokuto began your friendship in the beginning in your third year

➞  you and bokuto shared a class together and you would often see him around at lunch as well

➞  hearing him talk was amusing sometimes, but you didn’t think much of it since you didn't think someone as cheerful as him would want to be friends with someone as shy as you

➞  you don’t talk much so carrying on a conversation wasn't a strong suit of yours 

➞  anyways….. One day during lunch your two best (and basically only friends)  suggested eating lunch in the classroom

➞  you bought snacks from the cafeteria for you and your friends and were on your way back to the classroom when suddenly you bumped into someone 

➞  startled and embarrassed that you weren't watching where you were going, you quietly apologized to the person you bumped into 

➞  you looked up and noticed it was bokuto from you class

➞  “OH!!!! Uhhhhh y/n-san right? From my class? Don’t worry about it !!!!! I should have looked where i was going too. OH COOL are those (insert snack)???? I love those!!”

➞  you felt overwhelmed from his very loud and friendly personality and gave pretty vague responses 

➞  you excused yourself and headed back to your friends 

➞  to your surprise, bokuto began speaking to you at school more often and frequently catches you at lunch 

➞  “HEY HEY HEY y/n-chan, do you wanna come with me to the cafeteria to buy some (favorite snack)?”

➞  after that you had a really nice friendship with bokuto and began joining him at lunch with akaashi 

➞  you enjoy the balance between someone so chill as akaashi and someone as cheerful as bokuto 

➞  bokuto might have been loud, but he never once made you uncomfortable or gotten you into situations that would make you nervous   

➞  You didn't talk much, so he talked for the both of you 

➞  After a while you start developing a crush on him 

➞  You loved the way he made you feel less insecure about your shyness

➞  However, you still felt like you could never reveal those feelings to him

➞  You felt as thought bokuto was someone who would be better off with someone who was as bright and cheery as himself, someone who would match his energy all the time and not hold him back from being himself 

➞  You felt like if you were with him it would just burden him 

➞  However you were dead wrong 

➞  One day your teacher had asked bokuto had asked bokuto to stay back for lunch so that they could talk about his grade, so you went ahead and met up with akaashi 

➞  You ended up sharing your feelings and insecurities about bokuto and when you were done, akaashi didn't say anything and was just staring behind you

➞  You turn around to see bokuto and you began to feel very very anxious 

➞  Akaashi got up and excused himself

➞  You refused to meet eyes with bokuto as you were starting to mentally prepare for rejection but instead you were met with a “OH THANK GOD Y/N-CHAN.  Ummmmmm ive actually liked you for quite a while now!!!!!!! I really really like you but youre just so quiet sometimes that i was pretty sure i was just annoying you this whole time and you were just too nice to say anything!!”

➞  Oh… well you definitely werent expecting that

➞  After this you guys had a talk, happy that your feelings were mutual 

➞  Bokuto re assured you sweetly that he didnt think any of those things you thought about yourself 

➞  He might not be the smartest student, but he was self aware and knew that sometimes he get really out of hand

➞  He would tell you that being around really helps to keep him calm and isnt bothered at all by your shyness or how little you spoke sometimes 

➞  Being around you really taught him to stop and listen to people, since he had to pick up on your non verbal cues in your friendship so that he wouldn't ever accidentally make you uncomfortable 

➞  You guys might have had very different personalities, but you're definitely the rocks that holds him down and are there to help him through every one of his mood swings (which he loves you so much for)

➞  In the end you both were insecure, but with your growing relationship and with how sweet bokuto treated you , you never really had the time to ever feel like you weren't enough for him 

K. TETSUROU

➞  midterms were coming up, and you’ve been trying to study these past few nights

➞  keyword : trying

➞  the more you stayed up, the harder it was to study the next day

➞  it was also hard to stay up in class

➞  kuroo noticed it in class, the way your head sometimes slipped past your hand, your lids visibly getting heavy as you almost doze off

➞  and one day, you do. doze off, that is

➞  he couldnt help but find you cute, but he also felt a bit bad, since knew what it was like to stay up, studying, and having to go through the day with little to no sleep

➞  so the next day, he decided to bring you a caffeinated drink (imagine that he brought you your preferred drink, like coffee, or an energy drink)

➞  you were already in class, getting your things out

➞  you looked down to pick something up from your bag, and when you looked back up, kuroo was standing in front of your desk, a drink in his hand

➞  you both stared at each other for a few seconds, both unsure of what to say

➞  kuroo was the first to speak

➞  “i noticed that you’ve been like, falling asleep. Wait i swear i wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything, i just happened to see it-” 

➞  he stopped and just placed the drink on your desk with a smile

➞  “anyways, i hope this helps.”

➞  you smiled back and thank him quietly before he walked away

➞  throughout the day, you drank it, and it helped you get through the day

➞  you felt too shy to go up to him and say thank you in person, so instead, you took a sticky note and wrote a note on it, placing it on his desk during your last break

➞  the next day, he brought you the drink again, with a sticky note attached to it

➞  on the sticky he wrote ~no need to thank me, you seemed like you needed it! if you ever want to study together just let me know, i’ll keep these drinks coming your way ;)~

➞  over the next few days kuroo would keep placing drinks on your desks with sticky notes that had chemistry jokes or pick up lines

➞  some of them were honestly really bad,,, but you couldn’t help but laugh 

➞  “what did one charged atom say to the other? i got my ion you” 

➞  “did you hear oxygen went on a date with potassium? it went OK”

➞  “do you have 11 protons? Cause you're sodium fine”

➞  “forget hydrogen, you're my number one element”

➞  (kuroo would stare at you from his desk just to see you laugh ) 

➞  one day you placed a sticky note on kuroos desk, accepting his offer to study a little bit during lunch,, so you two began seeing each other during that time

➞  you were still really shy around him, but thankfully kuroo didn’t mind a quiet study session with you, and he was really helpful!

➞  after a while you realized that you started to grow a crush on kuroo 

➞  he was a little intimidating at first, and looked like the sort of guy that messed around with girls (he certainly wasn’t shy to playfully tease you)

➞  but he was honestly a really kind person, who was intelligent and cared a lot about his friends 

➞  you also admired how hard he worked to keep up his grades and be volleyball captain at the same time 

➞  because of this you felt,,, very inferior to him

➞  he was attractive, smart, kind, friendly, and volleyball captain 

➞  compared to him you didn’t really feel like you were anything special

➞  you felt as though your crush would get you nowhere because you felt like kuroo deserved to be with someone who was way better than you 

➞  you felt like he was way out of your league 

➞  but one day during one of your lunch study sessions kuroo turns to you and starts talking 

➞  he seemed really flustered for some reason and said “ m-my favorite attractive force is van der waal’s force. Can you feel it? I'll move closer if you can't”

➞  you laughed at his silliness, until he actually went ahead and sat closer to you

➞  you were shocked and felt yourself grow flustered at his closeness 

➞  the both of you stayed silent until he spoke up and said 

➞  “hey y/n, i've been meaning to say this for a little while but, i like you” 

➞  well,,,, you certainly weren’t expecting that 

➞  you weren't sure of what to say, so you just looked at him like :o

➞  kuroo panics and starts to talk his mouth off

➞  “im sorry if you don't feel that way, i don't want to ruin our friendship so please forget i even said that-”

➞  you quickly shook your head, stopping him

➞  “no, no, I'm sorry, i was just surprised, i actually like you too.”

➞  when the test came around, you both get a really high score

➞  you both excitedly showed each other once you got the chance to during a break

➞  you were super proud of each other, seeing how all of the hard work paid off

➞  the upcoming weekend, the two of you went to buy drinks and walk around as a treat

➞  as you were walking with kuroo, you realized how happy you were to be with him

➞  he still continued to tease you endlessly but respected your boundaries and knew when to draw the line

➞  he was always attentive, caring, and mature, and always managed to make you smile

➞  he reminded you of your worth through little actions, and you were grateful to have someone like him by your side

requested by @teasbees-knees