#I’d like to do a few more chapters before fully tipping my hand

[shadow-and-purgatory]

Lil snippet of chapter 2 of Wrong Shade

Twilight takes a few halting steps forward, water splashing. He walks through the remnants of a wall of a wrecked house, running his fingers along the splintered, waterlogged wood. Whatever happened here clearly happened a long time ago, but it still makes him sad. He doesn’t know the name of this place, but he mourns it anyway.

As he wanders the village, he hears splashing and guttural noises and sees a couple of the strange lizalfos​ that seem typical for whatever region this is.

A low, canine growl rumbles in his throat. Seeing the monsters splashing around, downright gleeful in their- their desecration of the site of this tragedy, Twilight feels a sudden burst of rage flare up in his chest. He draws his sword.

(The village is the Deya Village ruins btw, which isn’t a detail that’s super relevant, but I like being able to point to the map and be like “they’re HERE rn”, and I wanted someone to know :) )

[deandoesthingstome]

Welcoming Committee - Part 10

Pairing: Captain Syverson X Reader/OFC (Drea); August Walker x OFC (Genevieve/Neve); Captain Syverson x OFC (Genevieve/Neve); August Walker x Reader/OFC (Drea)

Word count: 968

Series Summary: You and Sy have been together for three years, but you still like to mix it up. The new neighbors down the street give you a chance to do just that.

Masterlist for series warnings. Heads up: this is 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings: everyone's finally fucking, p in v missionary and doggy-style, p in v straddled, anal toys, lube, condoms

I made sure to sway my hips wide from side to side as I crawled my way back to August. I wasn’t trying to make Sy jealous, but I did want him to miss me a little. Instead, it was Neve’s attention I caught and I heard her tell him she’d been hoping she could return my favor before August got greedy again. The way the words slipped out of her mouth made both Sy and I moan. When I peered back over my shoulder just before reaching the other side of the room, I saw Sy sink all the way into her, one leg hooked over his shoulder, but they were both watching me. I bit my lip and turned back to August.

 “Did you enjoy yourself, darling?”

“Yes Sir. Thank you so very much for allowing it, Sir.”

“Here, let me have a taste,” he reached for me and pulled me up onto his lap to press his lips against mine. He lapped into my mouth and sucked on my lips, capturing Neve’s lingering sweetness from me. “Mmmm, she is delicious. Now, let’s get back to what’s in that box.”

I turned in his lap to face the table and bent over to drag the container closer. I picked up the second bottle of lube and the surprise he’d left for me.

“Would you like to use that while I fuck you, Drea?” he asked, kneading my hips and pressing his fingers into my flesh.

“You know I would,” I answered over my shoulder and was not surprised at all when he landed a smack on my ass. “Sir, please. Can you put it in?”

I popped the top of the lube and squeezed a generous amount on the tip of the plug. It wasn’t the largest thing I’d ever had up my ass, but it was nothing to sneeze at and it would take a little work. August was surprisingly gentle about it. He ignored me when I tried to hand him the toy and instead reached for the lube, pushing my chest down over the table in front of us to put my ass in a better position for him. After he added a few drops to the crack, he took some time massaging the liquid in and around my puckered hole, slipping first one finger and then two past the tight ring and eliciting a series of low moans from me. When he finally reached for the toy, I was almost vibrating with anticipation.

He teased the tip around my entrance, then began to push it slowly in. The exquisite stretch had me gasping, but I worked hard to slow my breath and just relax into it. I certainly meant to let him run this show, but suddenly I looked up and across the room and saw that Sy had flipped Neve onto her hands and knees. The sight of him fucking her that way made me rock back and forth wishing once again I was her and the force of my rock met his next push to send the plug fully inside me.

“You really need that, don’t you?” August asked.

“Need you to fuck me, Sir,” I cried out, then pleaded as he began to tug and twist the toy in my ass. “Please put your cock in me, Please Sir.”

“Condom, dear.”

I reluctantly pulled away, grabbed a packet from the box, and sat on the floor in front of him. He motioned for me to put it on, so I dropped a bit of lube on his dick and rolled the rubber down, squeezing the tip. Out of habit, I added a few more drops to the outside, not like my pussy needed it, then stood up, turned toward him, and waited for his next command like the good girl he wanted me to be. 

“No sass? No talking out of turn? You don’t want to make me angry anymore?” he teased.

“I only want you to fuck me, Sir. Please.” If I hadn’t already put the condom on, I might have sunk to my knees to remind him of exactly what he was missing, but I waited. Every inch of my skin was on fire, my nerves firing on all cylinders, muscles twitchy and aching for his touch.

��Climb on.”

He leaned back against the couch and grabbed hold of each leg as I placed my knees to either side of him. I reached down between us and took hold of his massive cock, positioning the tip at my entrance. I rubbed the head over my swollen lips a few times before angling him so I could simply slide down to spear myself on his gorgeous length. He could not hide the way it made him feel. I watched his eyes flutter and I started to smirk, but then he clenched his jaw to steel himself, determined not to give me one iota of an upper hand. 

I couldn’t take it if I tried. I was so full of his cock and the plug that I could barely sit still. I draped my arms around his neck and leaned forward a little so I could bounce up and down and feel him drag in and out of my pussy. The tension was divine. His hands traveled around my thighs and onto my ass, pressing and pulling and helping to guide me along his length. I felt him knead the flesh and spread my cheeks apart as he snaked a hand even further behind me to press and wiggle the handle of the butt plug. I’m sure the movement felt good against his cock inside me for him, but it drove me absolutely wild and I was coming hard in a matter of moments.

August was far from done.

Part 11

[ofstoriesandstardust]

operation: boyfriend teaser (b.r.b.)

note: as jordan would say, this is more of a full fledged chapter than a teaser but seeing as this is one date of THIRTEEN, y’all deserve a full date. the premise for this is that Rooster takes it upon himself to find you a boyfriend, not realizing the reason they keep failing is because no one’s him. 

warnings: surfing, kissing, swearing, unedited

date 3. his surfing buddy.

"So, no more baristas, got it."

You shake your head, grinning. "Works in the service industry and still yelled at our waitress. Didn't tip either."

He snorts, shaking his head. "Well, how was I supposed to know? It's not like I thought he'd be an asshole when I set it up." There's a pause as he looks at you once more, an incredulous look forming on his face. "Didn't tip? Really?"

"Said he didn’t believe in tipping culture.”

“How can he not believe in tipping culture? He’s literally a barista.”

You shrug, pulling your sunglasses down to shield your eyes from the sun as you watch the surfers within the waves. “I don’t know. Hey, do you think you could teach me how to surf sometime? I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“Sure! Hey actually, why don’t I set you up with my friend Reuben? He’s a local and surfs all the time. And the two of you would be great together! That could be your first date, him teaching you how to surf!”

You eye Bradley as you swallow the bite of food you had just taken, an ache in your chest appearing at his child-like excitement in setting you up with Reuben.

Surfing had really been something you’d wanted to do with him, share with him, ever since he first told you about how he grew up surfing. How a friend of his from baseball was getting a day lesson and had an extra spot with Bradley’s name on it. How Bradley had a natural talent for surfing, getting up on the board and riding waves by the end of the day when neither said friend or said friend’s brother could. How Carole had stashed away pennies and dimes for Bradley to start taking lessons, to get his own wetsuit and board instead of the rentals from the local surf shop. How, once moving back to San Diego, surfing had been something that was his, something separate of his team. How surfing was a stress-reliever, a way to just be.

He nudges your shoulder, causing your eyes to snap over to his. His hazel eyes are filled with concern. “Hey, where’d you go? Do you not wanna go on a date with Reuben? I’ll only set it up if you’re comfortable.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning it over in your head. If it wasn’t Reuben, then it would be someone else. And Bradley spoke highly of Reuben. As far as you knew, he was a pretty decent guy.

You sigh. “No, Reuben sounds great. I’d love to go out on a date with him.”

The smile Bradley gives you is wide, almost worth the ache in your chest. “Yeah? My phone’s in the Bronco. I’ll text him after we’re done here and see if he’s interested.” He takes another bite of his burrito, still grinning even as he chews. You watch the guacamole drip down the side of his burrito. “Oh, this is gonna be so great, you and Reuben would make a great pair.”

You weren’t so sure, but you’d let him think so.

-

Turns out, Reuben was interested.

And, just like you’d suspected, Reuben was a decent guy.

A great guy, actually.

He’s at the beach early, catching a few waves before you arrive. You watch him from the shoreline, the way he grins when he spots you, waving before he’s ever even fully off the board. He holds it under one arm as he walks towards you, extending his other hand. “Reuben.” He says, smiling wide as you shake his hand, introducing yourself to him.

“Is this okay?” You ask, gesturing to what you picked to wear for the morning.

Prior to the date, Reuben had reached out to you, nicking your number off Bradley, giving you instructions on the best place to rent boards and what to wear. He’d picked Pacific Beach as the place to go to, earlier in the morning, when it’d be only locals. He assured you PB was mostly locals anyways, but when you’d expressed your nerves about others watching you learn, he assured you that everyone would be supportive.

You didn’t think learning to surf was an ideal first date, but Reuben had been enthusiastic about teaching you and now that you were here, you didn’t totally hate the idea of him standing close to you and helping you learn. It helped a lot that Reuben was easy on the eyes.  

He nods, drawing you from your thoughts. “No, what you have on is great. Like I said in my texts, wetsuits are a bitch to put on and it’s not worth the money to rent one just for the morning, especially when you run the risk of it not fitting. I only suggest you buy one if you’re hoping to get into this seriously.”

You nod nervously, eyeing the waves crashing on to the shore. The fear of falling and hurting yourself, or worse, embarrassing yourself, is back tenfold.

“Hey, we go at your pace, okay?” He says gently, nudging your hand. “Even if you just get in the water, I’ll be proud of you, alright? I’m sure Bradshaw makes surfing look easy but for most of us, it ain’t.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Guess we’ll never know if I don’t try, right?”

He grins, reaching you to gently punch your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

-

You laugh, wet hair clinging to your shoulder as you walk out the water, sand sticking to your feet. “That was really fun, I have to admit.”

“Hey, for a beginner, you did good!” He calls as he trails behind you. You drop your board near your bags, practically collapsing on the ground next to it as you sigh dramatically. His wet curls stick to his neck as he laughs at you. “Tired?”

“Exhausted.” You confirm, moving to set your head on your board.

“Well, you got a little energy left in you? It’s only 10 and I haven’t eaten yet. I know this killer taco shop down the road.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Bet it doesn’t come close to my favorite in Mission Beach.”

He chuckles, crouching down now. “Oh, we’ll see about that. They make a mean California burrito.”

You sigh, pushing yourself off your board. “Alright, food it is. But you’re paying.” You quickly add, pointing a finger at him.

He holds his hands up in mock defense. “Of course I would, I am a gentleman. Let me go get my wetsuit off and than we can take our stuff to the cars and walk over.”

-

Breakfast with Reuben is nice. It’s simple, easygoing, the way things should be. There’s no forced conversations or awkward jokes, just smiles and giggles as Rueben pours what you consider to be an obscene amount of hot sauce on his burrito.

It almost makes you want to consider a second date as he walks you to your car.

You turn to face him, hair now dry with salt water as you smile at his figure. “Well, I had fun today Reuben.”

He returns the smile, something settling between the two of you as he steps closer to you. “Me too.” His hand cautiously reaches out for your waist, testing the waters.

You know what’s about to happen and you can’t bring yourself to push him away, even though at you core you know this isn’t fair to him or you.

Reuben’s lips are chapped, tasting like hot sauce and salt water, his kiss gentle.

As much as you want to force yourself to lean into it, you can’t bring yourself to kiss the shaggy haired brunette back, when all you can think about is what it would be like to kiss the man with pornstache that you’re sure would tickle.

Reuben must get the message, pulling away after a few moments, taking a half-step back as he sighs. “Reuben...” You mutter, watching the way he runs a hand through his now-dry curls.

He sticks his hands in his jeans pocket, giving you a sad smile. “I take it that’s a no on a second date then?”

You groan, reaching up to rub a hand over your face. “This is gonna sound so stupid, but it isn’t you. It’s me. I know that's the worst cliche I could use, but-”

He waves a hand, shaking his head as he cuts you off. “To be honest, I was surprised Bradshaw was so adamant about setting us up. He’s my buddy and he speaks very highly of you. Kinda talks about you like he hung the stars and moon for him. I wouldn’t want to step into his territory and take his girl from him.”

You sigh, head thudding back again the window pane as you look at Reuben. “He doesn’t want me like that.”

It’s silent for a moment as Reuben visibly fights with himself, struggling to figure out what to say next.

Finally, he sighs. “I don’t mean this in a vindictive way because I genuinely mean it. I hope the two of you figure it out.”

You swallow, feeling a familiar urge to cry crawl up your throat. Reuben had been nothing but kind to you, a perfect guy, and he's letting you walk away from this, no harm, no foul. He was better than what you deserved.

“Thanks.” You whisper, eyes suddenly stinging. “You’re a good person, Reuben.

The toothy grin he’d greeted you with at the beginning of the morning is back as he gives an awkward half-shrug. “Maybe not that good, because if Bradshaw can’t pull his head out of his ass, I’m serious about a second date.”

[bexreadstoomuch]

Magic Man - Chapter 11

After Winning your local Battle of The Bands competition, you don’t realise it’s your old school crush’s band that’ll you’ll be supporting for the next 4 months. Can you put the past behind you and forgive?

It's time for the new years eve party, buckle in - let go have some fun!

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, reader has weight/image issues light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use/language, angst, smut, fingering, confessions of attraction, EddiemunsonxReaderHenderson

A/N - So it says eventual smut, and the smut has arrived, it's only slight here, warning are above. This chapter also contains one of my favourite Scorpions songs - Still Loving You! I hope you enjoy

Masterlist Part 11/? [wc 6.1k] a/n - please please like, share and comment, your comments make me so happy and encourage me to write more! thank you <3

11 - Still Loving You

Sitting at the window of your motel room, you watch the snow slowly falling covering the parking lot out front in a blanket of crisp white snow.

Arriving early couldn't have been timed more perfectly, as you were expecting a large cold front and even the possibility of a blizzard here in Nebraska.

Looking across at the venue across the street, your face is illuminated by the blue neon sign of the motel, hiding the blush that was rising in your cheeks at the memory of Eddie's hands on you only a few hours earlier.

“please promise me, I'll see you tonight after the show for the party? So we can speak some more?” his words echoed in your head. Of course you’d see him, you were not going to miss out on this. 

Of course you were still worried that he wasn’t being fully truthful but you had promised Dustin you would give Eddie a chance.

“Listen y/n, Eddie was in bits after that night, kept asking me why you weren’t around anymore, I’d never seen him like that before” Dustin had explained to you back at christmas in the garage.

 “He kept asking about you every single day, I never even saw him get mad, he just went quiet after a while. Once he finally graduated, he packed up his stuff and moved out of Hawkins. I didn't know where he was going, but I heard a rumour he’d gone to California, I don't know maybe in hopes to find you”

The show had gone amazingly, you kept seeing Eddie on the side of the stage watching you closely with a smile plastered on his face, watching his eyes roaming over your body. When you'd notice him doing this you would bluff a few notes, causing him to stifle a laugh and mouth “sorry” in your direction.

Laughing to yourself you get up from your position in the window making your way to the shared bathroom to grab a shower. Upon returning to the room, Lula comes bounding in with a large bag with a logo you don't recognise. 

“OK don't get mad, but we got you something for tonight” Lula places the bag on the bed between them, tipping it upside down letting the contents cascade all over the bed.

Your eyes went wide at the sight. All you could see was a sea of black. Black Leather and cloth, and the glint of silver.

“What is all this?” you look up at your friend confused.

“So Gareth may have spilled the beans to me about what happened at thanksgiving and tonight with Eddie - please don't get mad” Lula throws her hands in the air seeing the shocked look on your face.

“So with that in mind, I was saving this for your birthday, but I thought tonight would be better,” Lula explains, picking up a few pieces to flatten them out.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and seeing.

“Lula, im, WOW, i mean look at these, they are beautiful but i'll look ridiculous in this” you say holding up the leather jacket which you now see is encrusted with small silver diamontes.

“Now remember what we told you before we left for this tour? No self doubting y/n, you are gorgeous and beautiful inside and out and we are gonna to show Eddie what he's been missing all these years,” Lula had made her way around to you, hands on your shoulders looking you dead in the eye. “You got this?” She may be small but she can be intimidating when she wants to be.

“Yes, YES, ok let's do this” you beam back at her. “Where's Jack anyway?” you ask 

“I don't know, she said she had some stuff to do after the show but would see us later back at the venue for the party”

Jack had been disappearing more so recently after shows, coming back to the bus in the early hours. She didn't think you’d both noticed but you had. You know not to question her about it. Like when she came out to you both it was on her terms, she told you when she was ready. And that's the rules you've taken ever since, Jack will tell you something when she is ready.

After about an hour or so of Lula backcombing your hair, applying more mousse and hairspray to your head, that it would even make Harrington jealous, you were starting to get really nervous, and she could see it. 

Squeezing your shoulder from behind you Lula gives a small smile and nod. That's the great thing about true friendships, you don't need to say much, and they will know what you need.

After applying your makeup it was time for your outfit. 

Lula had hung it up ready for you in the bathroom to get changed into while she finished off her own makeup.

Closing the bathroom door behind you you looked at the outfit hanging there and your body was awash with self doubt.

Thought came flooding into your mind of all the things that could go wrong. The pants wouldn't do up, even worse they would split.

You thought back to what Lula had said “we are going to show Eddie what he's been missing all these years”

Taking a deep breath you set upon getting dressed, trying your best to get those negative thoughts out of your head. 

This isn't just for Eddie this is also for you! You deserve this!

“LULA WHAT THE FUCK?” you shouted pulling the bathroom door open brandishing the bag in front of you.

“Oh yeah that, well you never know” lula trailed off raising her eyebrows up and you going back to the mirror to do her makeup.

“How do you know it’ll fit?” you ask annoyingly.

“Don't worry we know your sizes and made sure it would - you'll look amazing”

You shook your head at your friend making your way back into the bathroom, to examine the bag again. Inside were a set of black lace and ribbon bras and panties.

Putting it against your body you wouldn't believe you were going to do it, but you promised her.

Once your outfit was on, you couldn't stop moving your hands up and down your thighs, across your stomach, all the areas you hated. 

Taking a deep breath you make your way out of the bathroom, your new heeled boots clacking across the tiled floor.

“OMG Y/N you look amazing! He's gonna die!”

Looking at yourself in the full size mirror you start to feel a sense of power come across you. The outfit made you feel powerful, like you could take on the world.

You take in the leather trousers which are encrusted with stars made up of diamantes which matched the leather jacket which covered your torso which was in a tight black Harley Davidson tee, with a double buckled belt.

Lula had retired her plaid and vans for the evening and opted for a short little black dress, fishnet tights and borrowed your dr martens boots.

“Lula, aren't you going to be cold when it's snowing?” you express your concern looking at her outfit.

“Oh I'm not worried, hopefully someone can warm me up later” she giggled.

“Oh you are gross!” you laugh back at her. She had expressed that her and Gareth haven't gone all the way yet and she was hoping tonight could be the night. Looking like she did, I'm sure it’d be hard for him to say no.

Making your way over to the venue to get more and more nervous, walking a few steps behind Lula trying to take as much time as you could. Maybe thinking that if you walked slow enough you wouldn't have to go.

“Y/N, come on whats up?” Lula calls over her shoulder, noticing you behind her.

“What if it happens again?” you say in an almost whisper, “what if it's like halloween again? I mean look at me!” your hands gesturing across your body.

“Honey, it’ll all be ok, Eddie wants you to be there, he’ll be next to you, and if he doesn't he’ll have me to answer to ok?” She tries to reassure you, but you cannot push the daunting feeling away.

You nod slightly taking in what she was saying, you trusted her. It was everyone else you didn't.

Walking back into the venue, you see the room now transformed ready for the new year. Slivers of multicoloured foils hanging from the ceiling, lights flashing between different colours and the music so loud you could feel it vibrating in your feet.

Looking around you recognise a few people from Wyatts team back in California, over at the bar, he waves over to you both to join him, Jack already in conversation with him.

“Hello Ladies, you both look wonderful” Wyatt gushes, tipping his hat to the both of you.

“As do you Wyatt” Lula comments 

“So ladies, I wanted to have a quick chat with you before the party gets into full swing. I've been chatting with the boys and they are in agreement with me. This tour so far has been a triumph and once it's over, me and the team would love to sign you to add to our label, join the team! What do you say?” 

You all must have had the same look on your face as Wyatt quickly says “no need to rush to a decision now, but let me know as soon as you can ok?”

You all nod, watching Waytt turn and walk away back to the rest of his team.

“Oh my god what just happened?” you say exasperated grabbing both the girls arms.  

“I think we did it, we finally did it” Jack quickly responds.

“What do we do?” Lula asks, looking at you with a worried look.

“We say yes right?” you answer.

You're all looking between each other and slowly all nod in agreement.

No more words were needed between you all, this was it, you made it. Your only concern was you'd be on the same label as Eddie, no doubt working together, was this such a good idea?

You must have willed him into existence thinking of him, because as you turned around so your back was against the edge of the bar, he walked in the rest of the band in tow.

Tight black jeans, chains, black boots and a black sequined shirt, ludicrously open very low exposing his chest tattoos, with a chain dangling around his neck which you noticed had a pick attached. You wonder if this is the same one from high school he always had on.

You notice him scanning the room as though looking for someone, and as soon as your eyes meet, you notice him let out a breath, looking up and down at your body, raising his eyebrows in awe. This alone was making your cheeks heat up. 

He looks flawless, and there was that knot in your stomach again, making you shift your weight from side to side.

Your heart sank as you saw the band disperse but Kelly appeared next to him in a tight corset style black top with a long skirt attached, a large split going up one side. He must have noticed this in your face as he leaned over to Kelly whispering something to her, which must have not been good as she had a face of thunder as she stormed off.

Eddie looked back over to you with a look on his face as thought he was apologising on her behalf. Making his way over towards you, you were feeling hotter with every step he took.

“Hey sweetheart, you look, just wow, you look amazing” Eddie extends a hand out to you which you slowly take letting him spin you around so he can look at the rest of the outfit.

“Where have you been hiding this?” he asks you, his voice seemingly deeper than usual.

“Lula got it for me, early birthday present” you quickly respond looking down trying to hide your embarrassment.

Eddie's hand suddenly whips up, taking your chin with his thumb and pointer figure, tilting your head to look at me.

“No need to be shy sweetheart, you look beautfiul”

His words made your heart hurt, you always thought people were saying things like this just to make you feel better but never meant it. This must have been showing on your face, giving you away as he moved his hand from your chin to your cheek giving it a gentle rub with his thumb, leaning in close to your ear.

“I mean it y/n - i've always thought you were beautiful” Eddie's voice was soft and full of sincerity.

Your breath hitched in your chest when he said this. Taken aback by his honesty, you blurted out “I always thought you were too”

Eddie let out a little chuckle moving his hands to your waist guiding you towards the bar. “Ladies, how about you?” he asked Jack and Lula. You had completely forgotten they were still standing next to you, completely lost in Eddie.

“Thanks Eddie but were ok, i'm going to go find Gareth” Lula tells you both, making her way past you, whispering to you as she past “It’ll be ok y/n, you got this, don't forget he's got me to answer to if he hurts you again”

You give her a nod as you watch her glide across the room straight into Gareth's waiting arms, placing herself in his lap, on some of the leather chairs that were dotted around the room.

“You want shots again, or are you going to take it slow this time?” Eddie is asking you as you watch your friend leave, and noticing Jack was now missing too.

“Oh sorry” you quickly turn back around facing him “No, ermm, can i have a cranberry and vodka please?”

Eddie learns over the bar and orders your drinks. You feel awkward standing there. You feel like everyone is looking at you. Judging you. Talking about you.

“Y/n? You ok?” Eddie's voice from behind you makes you jump back to reality, standing there with a beer in one hand and your drink in the other.

“Shall we sit?” He tilts his head over to an empty booth area of seats.

Nodding you follow him to the secluded area and sit down opposite him, hands clasped tightly around your glass, knuckles almost going white.

Looking up you see Eddie's hand also tight around the bottle he was holding.

“I'm glad you came tonight” he says breaking the silence between you “I should of done this a long time ago”

“I spoke to Dustin over Christmas, he saw the letter you gave me and explained things to me, but I don't know what to believe. I was a mess that night, I felt so hurt, I felt small, I felt foolish. Foolish for thinking someone like you would like someone like me.” you thought if you never said it now you never would, taking a large gulp of your drink feeling the alcohol burn down your throat.

Leaning forward in the booth taking a drink from his beer Eddie have a defeating sigh “I thought you wouldn’t want to been seen with someone like me - like I said this afternoon I was an idiot teenager who didn’t know any better”

He reached a hand over the table between you reaching for one of your hands. You looked down at his heavily ringed open hand for a moment debating whether to take it or not.

You slowly extend your towards him, allowing him to encase his large hand around yours.

“Eddie, why did you react the way you did when you first saw us back in California?” You asked him with worry. You had been wondering this for sometime, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Oh that, well, I really don’t know” Eddie's grip on your hand becomes tighter and he searches for an answer lowering his head as though ashamed 

“I regret how I acted, I was a complete fool, you no doubt thought I was being some pompous rock star” he laughed the last few works trying to lighten the moment

“But I think it was the shock of seeing you after so long, you looked breathtaking standing there and I was afraid I was mess things up again”

You watched him try and explain himself, watched his eyes searching your face for forgiveness. Lowing your eyes you watch him adam’s apple bob in his throat and he swallows trying to find the words.

You didn’t say anything, just looked back at him moving your free hand to cover his that’s encased around your other hand.

“I’ll be right back” Eddie says as he moves out of the booth making his way over to the DJ booth. You watch him point to something behind the man and have a quick conversation and nodding between them both. 

Watching him make his way back over to your booth you see the man behind the desk place a record on the deck moving the needle carefully into place.

You instantly recognise the first chords of the song now playing over the speakers. It was the song Eddie was playing this afternoon when you saw him playing alone.

Scorpions - Still Loving You 

“Will you dance with me?” Eddie's voice is low as he extends a hand out waiting for you to accept it.

Taking a moment to consider your options you throw caution to the wind, shifting out of your jacket leaving it in the booth you stand taking Eddie's hand in yours letting him lead you to the dance floor.

Pulling you tightly towards him he placed both hands on your hips giving you no choice but to place your arms around his neck under his hair.

He let out a little noise from the bottom of his throat at the feeling of your hands on the back of his neck.

“How did you know?” You asked him looking up at him as he swayed with you to the music 

“Know what?” He looks down at you with a small crooked smile.

“This song, it’s my favourite, you were playing it this afternoon weren’t you?” You replied, questioning him.

“Ah well that would be telling, but I have my ways of finding things out” he learned forward pressing his forehead against yours.

The knot in your stomach was growing tighter, you felt like you had hundreds of eyes on you. You thought you could hear people talking about you.

Suddenly you felt the room was spinning, you felt your breathing get rapid, you were starting to panic, eyes darting around the room. 

You felt something on your face, snapping you back into reality you could see Eddie's face still in front of you, one hand still on your hip the other on your face.

“It’s ok y/n it’s ok, you're worrying again aren't you? Just breathe it’s all ok, I’m here I’m not going anywhere” His voice was calming, and soothing. You felt yourself settling again. 

“Eddie I feel such a fool” you lean your head into his chest fitting perfectly under his chin, which he rested on your head.

He didn’t say anything, just held you tight while still moving with the music.

He lifted your head of face him, wrapping his arms tightly around you, leaned into the side of your head and sang long with the song to you,

“If we'd go again, All the way from the start, I would try to change,Things that killed our love. Yes, I've hurt your pride, And I know what you've been through, You should give me a chance, This can't be the end, I’m still loving you”

For a split moment you meet his large brown eyes seeing them full of all the emotions he was trying to express. the knot in your stomach had gone, you felt calm and in control.

Wrapping your arms quickly around his neck again you pulled him down to you crashing your lips together in a hungry kiss.

No one else mattered but you both. You felt like you were the only people in that room for a moment. It was peaceful. Eddie responds with the same hunger, grazing his tongue over your bottom lip asking for access. The kiss was more intense than the one you shared this afternoon, both of you fighting for dominance over the other.

Breaking away from the kiss for only a moment you stared intently at each  other.

“I meant what I said this afternoon, I’m so sorry about what happened, but please let me show you how sorry I am” The tip of Eddie’s nose touches yours as he brings his face in closer again to capture your lips.

Letting your guard down you let out a small moan escape your mouth as he kissed you with more ferocity.

His hands moved from waist down to hips letting his thumbs graze your sides. You could feel his fingers slipping underneath your tee so his fingers could trace your skin.

The song was coming to an end, but you didn't want this to end. Eddie's hands still on your sides he pulls you closer, bringing your hips close against him.

He moves a hand up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear and whisper “follow me”

Your feet had a mind of its own to follow Eddie's command willingly. Passing the guests in the party you see a few faces looking at you with confusion, whispering to the person next to them. Your stomach sinks, and you abruptly stop, your arm stretching out, as Eddie still had hold of it.

Looking around he looks at your concern, slowly making his way abc to you.

“Are you ok doll?” His voice was full of concern.

“Everyone is staring Eds” you answer so quietly it was barely a whisper.

“It's ok, look at me” Eddie's hands are now on your shoulder, turning to face him. “Focus on me ok? Let's get out of here, get some air?”

You quickly nod your head and you allow him again to lead you out of the venue. 

To your surprise you're standing outside beside Bertha. Eddies reach into his pocket and bring out a key unlocking the door.

“How do you have a key for Bertha?” you ask

“Bertha?” his head spins around looking at you amused.

“Yeah she's called Bertha, we thought it was a good name, she's sturdy, albeit a little unreliable” 

Eddie just chuckles at this explanation going back to opening the bus doors.

“Lula gave me a spare key at the bar before just incase” he explains walking up the bus steps pulling you with him.

You’ll be having words with Lula later about that. Everyone seems to be talking about the pair of you, except to you.

“It's nice in here, homely” Eddie remarks looking around, touching the wooden panels on the walls and making his way to the bunks at the back, sitting down on the bottom.

“Yeah Lulas folks helped us set it all up, they're great” you say as you kick off your boots into the corner and grab your blanket wrapping it around you sitting next to him on the edge of the bed.

“Y/n?” Eddie's voice is quiet, his hands move back to your face, bringing it to meet his.

You could barely respond to him as he crashed his lips into yours again. You felt his tongue graze your bottom lip asking for entrance again and you oblige.

Your hands moved from their position in your lap wrapped in your blanket to rest on his jean clad thigh. Feeling your hand on him he pulled away from the kiss leaving you wanting more. He slowly moves so he's facing you ducking slightly so he doesnt hit his head on the bunk above. You move yourself from the edge of the bed moving in further as to give him more room next to you. Seeing what you were doing he dove across so he was now positioned above you.

“Is this ok?” he asks tenderly, looking at you for reassurance.

“Yes” you whisper to him, leaving all inhibitions behind you, reaching up, grabbing him around his neck, pulling him into you to kiss him once more. 

Your both breathless moans, and messy wet heated kisses. He moves his lips from yours, moving his way to your neck, leaving hot kisses in places you didn't know could make you feel this good.

His hands started to roam your body, tracing down your arms and you tense up when he reaches your stomach. Feeling you he stops looking up at you.

“Are you ok y/n? I don't want us to do anything that you're uncomfortable with, we can stop and I can just walk away” Eddies says, looking at you reassuringly.

“No, no please dont stop, its just….. just , oh god, now I feel stupid” you shuffle form underneath him bring your knees up to your chest, hugging your arms around them.

“Sweetheart, I know what you're gonna say, and please, don't worry. I think you're beautiful and I want to show you how beautiful you are, will you let me?” Eddie inches back towards you, placing his ring clad hands on yours.

“You're not just saying that? You mean it? I've had people say these things to me, just because they can then brag they've been with a Fat girl, and, and” your starting to feel your body shake as tears start to form in your eyes. 

Eddie's hand flew up to catch the tear before it fell, wiping it away.

“Please sweetheart, I'm not that type of person. I see you for you, nothing else. Like I said before, I see before me a beautiful, talented woman. A woman who can belt out a song like I've never heard before. You have no idea how long I've dreamt of kissing you, feeling you in my arms, holding you, I was an idiot in school, I wish I had told you sooner, helped protect you from those who would hurt you, will you let me?” You had waited for Eddie to say something like this to you all those years ago.

Unfolding your arms from your legs, you crawl your way closer to him. Leaning in to the side of his face you whisper in his ear “show me, please”

Without another word Eddie dove at you, pinning you beneath him to  continue the assault on your neck. Hands roaming down your sides squeezing your hips making his way down grazing your thighs. His kisses become more heated on your neck, biting down slightly, making you moan at this touch.

His hands tugging at the bottom of your shirt, he makes his way under grazing his hands up your torso, the coldness of his rings causing goosebumps to form. He grazes the underside of your bra feeling the lace under his fingers. 

“What's this?” he comments breathlessly from his position in your neck.

“Another gift from Lula, she said to me ‘you’ll never know’” you stifle a giggle.

“Can I see?” you nod as you lift your frame helping him raise the tee above your head revealing your ribbon and lace bra, your breasts heaving over the top threatening to spill.

“Oh my god doll, you're gorgeous” Eddie's mouth moves quickly from your neck to lick across the peaks of your breasts making you involuntarily hitch your hips up. Feeling this you feel him smirk upon your skin and move himself so he is positioned between your legs.

“If you want me to stop, you need to tell me ok? Do you know the traffic light code?” he asks you quickly, face flush, hair wild. 

You nod, which he raised his eyebrows at.

“Don't forget, green is carry on, amber is slow down and red is stop ok?” he makes sure you remember, you nod again.

“I need you to use your words sweetheart” 

“Yes, Eddie” you reply, raising your hips towards him again to reiterate your answer.

“Good girl” his voice was an almost growl as he dove back towards your chest, nipping and sucking at your skin causing you to throw your head back letting out a small moan.

Eddie would continue to ask you if it was ok for everything you did and you answered promptly gaining more praise from him.

Hands roaming each other, you reach down to the buttons on his shirt, opening them up and pushing the shirt off his shoulders.

Your hands stoke down his chest to one of his pierced nipples, asking him “when did you get these?” 

“When I left Hawkins for California, you like them?” his answer muffled from between your breasts.

“Yeah I do, a lot” your fingers grazing over the bar, causing Eddie to let out a guttural moan, the feeling vibrating through you.

Moving his hand down lower to feel him undoing the buttons on your leather trousers, asking for entry. “This ok?” he asks.

“Green, please Eddie” you reply breathlessly looking down at his position now between your legs.

Eddie's hand pulls down the zip and gestures for you to lift your hips to help him pull down your leather pants.

“Oh wow, I'm gonna have to thank Lula when I see her next” he says, kissing his way across your inner thighs.

Before you could respond you feel him tracing his fingers across the frilly edge of your panties, continuing to kiss closer to your warm core making you squirm.

“Oh doll, keep still, you have no idea how long i've dreamt of this” Eddies voice is full of want

“Me to Eds, please… don't stop” you encourage him by tracing your arms up and down his bare arms.

“Don't forget, traffic lights” With that you feel eddies fingers move to rest above your clothed heat finding your small wanting bud beneath, rubbing slowly in small circles. This action caused you to cry out a small moan. 

“Eddie please dont stop” you reached for his free hand beside you bringing it to your covered breasts helping him manoeuvre the fabric down exposing yourself to him.

“My god y/n your so beautiful” Eddie moans as his hand massages your large breast tracing over your nipples making you gasp.

His other hand doesn’t slow down rubbing tighter circles on your now swollen bud.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me doll, can I feel you?” Eddie looks up at you from under hooded eyes.

“Yes, yes please” your stutter your words out to him 

“So polite for me” Eddie grins up at you as he moves his hand under the waistline of your black lace panties moving lover to your folds. Moving his body back up your body you feel his cold rings against your hot skin sending a jolting sensation up your body.

Eddie places kisses against your skin making his way to your now heaving breasts quickly taking your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, as he pushes his fingers through your warm folds at the same time.

“You're so wet for me sweetheart, let me look after you, like you deserve” Eddie's voice was a low growl full of lust. 

Your head feeling all fuzzy from the sensations you were feeling just nodded, making Eddie stop.

“Your words doll, don’t forget” 

“Yes Eddie, please I want you too, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time too, please” you hurriedly said, thrusting your hips up into his waiting hand.

“Good girl, my good girl” Eddie growled as he continued his cruel pace on your swollen bud. 

His girl. His words sent your head spinning, lifting your hips to match his movements, wanting more. You could feel a coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with every move he made.

Stopping suddenly, Eddie makes his way up your body capturing your lips with his, reaching for the straps of your bra to manoeuvre it down completely. He looks at you with a silent question, eyebrows raised.

“Green, please green” your voice breathless.

Eddie is quick to remove your bra completely, moving his lips down to capture your nipples in his mouth sucking and licking, making you make noises you never knew you could.

Your hands move around his neck pulling at the nape of his neck letting him know you want more, pulling him toward your face. Moving a hand back down to your soaked panties he pushes them to the side tracing a finger up and down you, causing you to mewl.

“Can I feel you? I want to feel you wrapped around my fingers” Eddie asks seductively, not leaving your gaze.

“Yes, please I want to feel you, I want to come around your fingers Eddie please” you are practically pleading him at this point.

This was all the encouragement he needed, slowly pushing a digit inside of you causing you to moan loudly, pressing your forehead against Eddies, rutting your hips upwards matching this pace.

Dragging his finger slowly in and out of you, teasing you was torture, you wanted more. He must be reading your mind as he inserted another digit, slightly curling upwards hitting the spongy spot deep inside, manoeuvring his thumb to rubbing your clit quite vigorously.

You shut your eyes tight leaning your head back at the feeling of him pumping his fingers in and out of you, the coil was starting to get tighter in your lower stomach and Eddie could tell.

“Are you close y/n?” Eddie asks as he feels you getting tighter around his fingers, the moans and whimpers coming from your mouth encouraging him in speeding his pace up a little, making your legs start to shake.

“Y.. ye…yes” you could barely speak, concentrating on the feeling in your lower stomach thinking you might explode. No one had ever made you feel like this before.

Eddie learns down capturing your lips in an open mouthed kiss, tongue fighting for possession once more. Moaning into the kiss you try to find your words.

“Eddie please, i'm gonna come” you were now panting holding onto his shoulders tightly.

“Let go sweetheart, come for me” Eddie's tone was desperate, encouraging you.

With that, you could see stars behind your eyes as you came with so much ferocity, your legs were trembling, making Eddie grab one with his free hand stroking your leg to calm your muscles down. Pressing his forehead against your you open your eyes to meet his large chocolate brown ones. A smile spread across his face, one which you shyly returned.

As he pulls his fingers out of your aching centre, you sigh at the empty feeling, clenching around nothing.

Sitting up to reposition himself next to you he suddenly hits the top of his head on the bunk above.

“Jesus H CHRIST!” his curses rubbing his head with his hand, squeezing his eyes closed tight at the sudden pain.

“Eds you ok?” you sit up moving close to him, taking his face in your hands checking him over.

“Yeah, yeah I'll be good” he chuckles look back at you.

“That was err, that was amazing y/n, are you ok?” he's looking at you with concern on his face.

“Yes Eddie im more than ok, i just never thought we would do anything like this” you now sitting pulling the blanket back around you feeling exposed sitting there in just your now ruined panties.

“Well I hope we can do this again and maybe more?” he asks shly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I'd like that yeah”  you learn forward giving him a soft kiss on his soft lips.

“We should get back to the party, people will wonder where we’ve gone '' Eddie gets up, reaching out a hand to help you up, passing you your clothes.

“Eddie, can I ask you a favour? Can we not tell anyone what happened here? Maybe keep this quiet for a bit? I don't want to rush things too much” You felt foolish saying this considering only a few moments ago he had given you the best orgasam you've ever had.

“Of course doll, anything you need, just as long as I can kiss you at midnight?” wrapping his large arms around you pulling you close you giggled nodding at this request, leaning into his warm chest.

A/N - We finally got there, BUT how's Y/N gonna feel? Hope you enjoyed

tag list - @corrodedcoffincumslut @themrsmunson @emmalee-01  @bohemianrhapsody86 @jennk182

[fleckcmscott]

Do Not Disturb

Summary: During a much needed getaway to the Catskills, Arthur and Y/N make a few discoveries about themselves - and each other.

Words: 5,523

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

A/N: This request came from @sweet-nothings04​! It expands on the vacation referenced in the first chapter of Stepping Stones. @iartsometimes​ offered a little preview in this lovely birthday present. 😏 Switching from multi-chapter to short story mode was more challenging than I'd assumed; this request helped me scrub off some of the oneshot rust. Thanks for your patience! Thanks, also, to @iartsometimes​ for beta-ing! Please enjoy!

Arthur had finally cracked it.

Plucked from a windblown flier that'd caught on his prop bag, it'd been his fourth open mic night this week. Five-minute sets at Comedy Company, uncensored, no cost for entry. The club's two-drink minimum had been waived.

That old trick of looking at the back of the room to shake off jitters? Unnecessary. Thanks to a newly discovered setup-punchline meter, his communication with the audience had been fantastic. He'd been able to reach them all. The high of fresh material - good material - had joined the crowd's clapping to tickle his gray matter, seep into its grooves like the first kiss of the day. At long last, he'd crawled his way out of stand-up purgatory to make something of himself.

Mouth moving as fast as his feet, he pulled Y/N along beside him, striding up the sidewalk towards Burnley. A yard before their bus stop, a billboard crew crossed their path, bucket slings and ladders on their shoulders. They climbed one story and unfurled a 12' by 8' poster, a pitch for Buddy Shandler's one-man show "Ain't that America," a farce featured at the Gotham Forum. Garish and gaudy, the balding caricature twisted his bow-tie and winked.

Arthur sprung on a bench, imagination straightening the curlicues of B and S into the sharp angles of A and F. Flicking his cigarette away, he jutted his chin. "My name'll be up there someday."

"And where will I be when your star shines so bright?" Y/N asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I am a humble paralegal."

"Senior paralegal," he said, extending a hand to her.

She took it and hopped up next to him, tapped his knuckles with each example. "You'll have a manager, a makeup artist, a lawyer to write all your contracts. Are you sure there'll be room for a pencil pusher like me?" Fingers splayed above her heart, she offered a coquettish pout and leaned in for a kiss.

He held back. "I'm serious. Not just this billboard. All of them. Maybe I can be the next Murray Franklin, make jokes about you and tell Dr. Sally I'll try everything with my one and only wife." And you'll be prouder of me, desire whispered at the base of his skull. You'll love me more.

Her jaw slacked and shut before she spoke. "You've been working so much. More than me, even." Given all his street performing, moonlighting at Amusement Mile, and the usual clown gigs, that couldn't be denied. "You should take a break."

"But I'm not tired." In fact, part of him felt like he'd just woken up, learned to live fully in the present. Too much time had been wasted, lost to fantasy and detachment, second guessing and outright failure. Not again, not with success on his heels, not when the world was his for the taking. He bit the inside of his cheek. "I feel good. Aren't you glad I feel good?"

She touched the tip of her nose to his, which melted him in an instant. "Of course, I am. You know, I admire your dedication. But I've been thinking it might be fun to go away together, work and comedy be damned."

A slight cock of the head. Vacations were one subject she seldom mentioned. "Yeah?" he said, fingers weaving together at the small of her back. "Where would be go?"

The agent with salon steamer silver hair at Crowne's Travel studied their list of must-haves: good for couples, secluded but not isolated, hassle free. "It's a little close to be this choosy," she said. Then the grin of a dealmaker brightened her face. "A client of ours cancelled a trip this morning. Real nice couple, until his wife caught him in bed with the maid. How'd you feel about a mountain hideaway?"

The Catskills were a classic choice, a dream destination Arthur had seen in commercials during Penny's soaps and talk shows. It was a tourist spot for the rich and famous, the famous for being rich, the rich for being famous. As remote to him as a fantasyland, even two hours northwest.

He signed the travel agreement without delay. If it could be a destination for the soon-to-be-famous (and their humble senior paralegals), he belonged there.

~~~~~

Sunrise Valley Bed and Breakfast was the sole inn that both met their criteria and had a free room on the July Fourth weekend. Tucked into the side of Mount Tycetonik, its three floors lodged six rooms, and its slogan promised guests they would arrive strangers but leave as friends. Breakfast was served from 7:30 - 9:30 AM, made-to-order, not a buffet. The owners, a husband and wife who communicated in one-word bursts, ran a tight ship. No loud noises after ten o'clock, no running in the halls, no smoking outside of the patio area. Guests were invited to a campfire every Saturday, don't be shy.

En route upstairs, a man in his late sixties passed by on his way to the dining room. He greeted them through the bushy caterpillar residing on his upper lip. "Welcome! First time here?"

"Yeah, it is," Arthur said, switching his teal suitcase from one hand to the other.

Mustache's gander followed Y/N's form, her breezy summer dress as it disappeared around a corner. He hunched forward, pointed at Arthur for emphasis. "Make sure you get down here early. The scones run out fast."

Their room was on the small side, but calling it cozy would be sweeter, so that's what Arthur decided to do. Butted against the left wall was a double bed, homemade star quilt spread across it. A cream table lamp squatted on a nightstand, the shade's fringe impressively dust free. The door to the private bathroom was on the right, followed by a dresser, where a note welcomed them and solicited suggestions. A peacock armchair was nestled in the rear corner, white wicker, the kind that'd become an album cover cliche. Only a television and air conditioner were missing. A programmed VCR in 4A made the former irrelevant. A fan spun weakly by the double hung window, circling humidity with a lazy puff puff.

Once unpacked, they perused the brochures nabbed from the check-in desk. The weekend came with plenty of local traditions. A brass band blowing patriotic tunes at the closest park; an Independence Day festival featuring enough red, white, and blue to blind; an upcoming parade one town over. None of it appealed to him. Other than watching the fireworks from the roof or attempts to barbeque on a disposable grill on the fire escape, they didn't have traditions related to the holiday.

They could go horseback riding at a nearby ranch, hike the scores of trails surrounding them. There was rock climbing or biking. But Arthur already did enough running around the city. And who found hanging off the side of a fifty-foot cliff relaxing?

They chose an aerial tramway. Bright yellow with green trim, straight out of the 1930s, it shuttered its way to Little Tonshi's summit at five miles per hour. Cable loops whirled and squealed, the car swayed to and fro. Twenty people stood, packed like sardines in a can, but as long as the sardine Arthur was crammed next to was Y/N, he didn't mind.

Two minutes into their ascent, she put a palm to her forehead, nails dug his side. He knew she'd made the mistake of looking through the tram's transparent base. "Look at me," he murmured, knuckle lifting her chin.

Rose pink painted her cheeks, a shade that dove straight to his diaphragm and made it jump. "You always manage to steady me."

The cabin campfire blazed when they returned to the B&B. As soon as they put a toe on the property, Mustache waved them over.

"Watch out." Y/N's steps slowed to a shuffle.

Arthur shrugged. "He's friendly."

"That's true. But he's also the type of man who'll grab your arm and talk your ear off if you're not careful." She plucked his lighter from him, sparked it, held it out. The old-fashioned romanticism of the gesture (a stunner, since she hadn't quit nagging him to quit) swept over him, sparking his own fire. He bent to stick his cigarette in the flame. "Don't let your manners get in the way. And remember you're all mine tonight."

Log benches sat on either side of the inferno, one free seat each. Y/N sat beside an older lady in a Just Say No! windbreaker, leaving Arthur the spot at Mustache's left. While Y/N commented on the possibility of rain, asked the woman if she was far from home, the older man patted the bench. After a nicotine puff of compliance, Arthur obliged.

Mustache passed him a roasting stick and bag of marshmallows. "You two on your honeymoon?"

That marriage was clear stretched Arthur's cheeks to the point of pinching. He skewered the squishy treat and held it over the fire, high enough to be licked by hints of orange. "Just a long weekend."

"I thought I'd recognized that gaze," Mustache said, nodding towards Y/N. "Same one my wife had when we got married in, oh, forty-four? We come here every year. Used to bring the boys, too, before they moved west. You been married long?"

"Six years October 19th."

"You're still newlyweds. Got any kids?"

"No."

"Planning on it?"

"No."

The man crossed his ankles. "Well, that's all right. They're expensive and put a real damper on the bedroom."

Arthur's brows shot up. He tapped ash into the cinders, tucked his arm closer so Mustache couldn't grab it.

Y/N yanked her marshmallow out of the hearth, cupped her hand around it and blew. Her tongue circled the burnt sugar, drew it to her mouth. When her eyes shut and she hummed her satisfaction, he noticed the sweat glistening on her neck, the white thread that stretched from the skewer to her lower lip. Pulse quickening, he gaped at her, completely transfixed.

The spell broke in seconds. "Arthur, your stick's on fire." She laughed and lunged to his rescue.

He leapt to his feet, wagged the marshmallow, shoved the hot coal between his teeth. The bitter shell disintegrated, coated the inside of his cheeks, every millimeter of his gums. He winced. It was barely on par with attempts to toast them over his old propane stove.

She smoothed her palms from her waist to her thighs in one fluid motion. "Excuse me, but I wanted to catch the owners before lights out. Have a good night, it was nice to meet you." After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder, sent a message that would make Cupid's arrow fly.

Still chewing, he excused himself to let it strike.

~~~~~

"I have a surprise," Y/N said, closing the door with a low thud. "No peeking."

Overheated for more reasons than one, Arthur shook off his diamond striped short-sleeve shirt, stepped out of his brown trousers, peeled off white socks. What could she have brought? New lingerie? Garters and stocking that went on for miles? Maybe fresh romantic spray or a box of assorted chocolates. That last one would be the ideal complement to his own surprise. He turned to his overnight bag and rooted around.

A zipper ripped at the opposite side of the bed.

Adopting the stealth of a man sneaking into a gala, he slunk behind her and definitely peeked. The Couple's Game was scrawled across a black, rectangular box, a title that intrigued and allured. A man and woman lounged on a rug in the cover photo, scantily clad, wine glasses filled to the brim. "It was in the window at the hosiery shop on the corner," she said. "They're a romantic supermarket now."

From behind his back, he brandished a bottle of her favorite merlot. "It's perfect."

Cross-legged on the oak floor, he delivered the directions in the jovial intonation of a late-night monologue. The romantic adventure would recreate the excitement of their first meeting and strengthen their bonds. Players were to answer questions, listen to their partners with open hearts, and never argue or interrupt. Creativity was encouraged. The goal? To reach the red heart at the end of the track.

Arthur suspected that wasn't the only way to win. "'Make sure your clothing is comfortable and easy to remove?'" A sharp snort and he placed two token - one red, one black - on the starting square.

The commencing inquiries were easy, as light and pleasurable as a perfect evening, which this would assuredly be. What they'd tell each other if they lost their memories. ("I'll love you forever, if you let me," he said. "Every step that's led me to you is one I'd take again," she promised.) An order for them to lock eyes for ten seconds and remember how lucky they were. And, yes, they could see themselves together for the rest of their lives. ("That's why I wanted to get married," he said out of the corner of his mouth.)

But when he'd rounded a third of the track, the mood grayed. "What's your biggest fear?" he asked.

Her nails hit her goblet in restless repetition. Tap. Tap. Tap. She scoffed a sniffle. "What a terrible question for a romance game. Ask another?"

Snippets from a thousand conversations had clued him in: the options were losing him or getting sick like her father. Since her forty-sixth birthday, since The Change had crept up on her, her notetaking and list making had increased. Despite her powers of recall outmatching his, he'd come to understand her annoyance at occasional lapses in memory. Her organizational habits were acts to fight that future, a future the deepest recesses of his soul knew wouldn't come to pass.

A kiss to her fingertips confirmed that conviction. "Okay." He rolled a four, advanced to another square. "'Do you always tell your lover when they upset you?'" That didn't seem much better. Regardless of how blissful their relationship was, he had to admit it wasn't all roses. Occasional thorns poked, too. To have to think about them now, when the instructions said her panties were supposed to be halfway to her ankles?

Y/N refilled her glass. "No."

"Why not?" They were unfailingly honest with each other. Alright, there was his firing from HaHa's and the pistol that'd caused it, but beyond that-

"We both know we have habits to work on. There's no need to dwell on them and foster bad feelings. But I guess what's hardest for me is when you try to hide being upset. You don't have to pretend with me. We were past that the moment we met." She dismissed his internal protests with a wave of her hand. "I get it. That's your line to draw and I trust you. That doesn't make it any less irritating."

He nodded tightly, channeled his instinct to frown into twanging the cords of his neck. Tried to hear her answer as a comment rather than criticism. A deep breath and he gave his own. "I don't like it when you work too much. When you're gone sixty hours and bring files home. It doesn't happen a lot, not like before. But I miss you."

"My promotion's a little more than we bargained for, especially with the merger. It'll slow down soon. You're never forgotten or left out, it's just that-" Cutting herself off, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I broke the rules again. What's my fine?"

"Hearing one more thing."

"And what's that?"

Boosted on his elbow, he finished his merlot, readied himself by pouring another. Prepared to reveal the scandalous secret he'd kept since the earliest days of their courtship. "Your eggs. They're awful."

"But you gobble them up." Awareness flashed in her eyes, the disbelief that'd knotted her forehead loosening. "Is that why you put a bottle of ketchup on them? Why didn't you tell me?" Her small fists pummeled his bicep quarterheartedly.

Arthur caught her wrists, chuckled his reply. "Your pancakes make my morning batter."

"Uh-huh." She extricated herself and threw the die. It scuttled under the dresser, where she stretched and strained to reach it. "Three!" Her red pawn hopped two spaces ahead of his. "'Without embellishment, tell me about your first time.'" She peered at him like she was awaiting a performance review. "This isn't going to be like the egg thing, is it?"

A laugh escaped him, the rare kind that tingled his ribs until they ached with glee. "I liked it. A lot. You made it easy. But it was too short."

"And wonderful." She rolled onto her belly, kicked her legs up behind her, crossed them mid-calf. Her knee-length skirt flopped higher, dangling at her hips, teasing glimpses of her cotton covered bottom. "Six weeks before Jeff and I got married. I was done waiting. We were both nervous - he'd done it before but never with a virgin. But he was gentle and patient. And I discovered a new favorite hobby."

Fondness tinged her words, stirred within him a grudging relief. Grudging at not having been hers back then, relief that her initial explorations had been better than the bleeding and pain he'd heard about. Mirroring her position, he realized those good experiences may have paved the path to his own, allowed her to be the bold counterpart to his bashfulness.

His pawn rounded the last corner. "'What's my feature you like best?'"

"Your bedroom voice."

His timbre dropped to a velvet fog, rasp scarcely above a whisper. "My bedroom voice?"

"Mmm, just like that. When I hear it, I know I'm in trouble."

A long hum rumbled in his throat. Her position loosened her overlapping neckline, offered a world class view of her cleavage. Her breasts appeared larger at this angle, the slit between them long and deep. He really loved them. He didn't tell her that often enough. "I love your breasts."

"And here I thought you were the sweet one, Mr. Fleck. Have you had me fooled all this time?" She walked her fingers down his chest. Lip stuck in his teeth, he watched the descent. "Maybe that's what you should tell me if I lose my memory. It'd certainly sweep me off my feet. Well, that along with your big broom." At that, she snapped the waistband of his briefs, stole the die and threw a final throw. Her token landed on a silhouette of joined hands. "'How did you know you were in love? What did it feel like?'"

Fuzzy with drink, he rolled onto his back, followed the blurry orange peel pattern of the vanilla ceiling. Debating if the lovely woman at the store had actually spoken to him, standing behind her in line, their cautious but eager walk together. All of it projected on his inner eye in widescreen. A phone call replayed, made a week after pie, in which he'd chanced a mediocre pun and her laugh had thawed his apprehension into incredulous bewilderment. ("You really like my jokes that much?" "I like you that much.") Dreams of being spotted by Murray had become dreams of being spotted by her.

Negative notions and ruminations were what his brain was built for. An intruding army with ever stronger munitions, their returns tightened his sinews until aching became default. But she'd changed that, been a keyhole of light in the dark. "I didn't want to stop thinking about you. It made me feel like maybe my life could be more than living with my mother and paying bills. I'd wait for you to call. You'd say my name and it was like..." A smile thinned his lips, boyishly affectionate, intimate as a kiss. "Being wrapped inside the joy I wanted to give but never had."

"Arthur," she purred, the second syllable elongated. She planted her mouth under his left ear, the spot he wanted her mouth on every day. It was wet with wine. He imagined being tattooed with the print of her burgundy stained lips. Goosebumps broke out at the brush of her breath. "Falling in love with you was a gift I didn't expect. That you have the handsomest wrapping is a happy bonus." She caressed his nipple to hardness, traced the sparse black hair that circled it. "You've helped me allow myself to be vulnerable. I hope I've helped you know it's alright to not always be all right."

"You have." He pressed her to him, swept the pieces from the board to entwine their legs. "You do."

Teeth tickled his peck, a not altogether unpleasant sensation. "You smell delicious," she said, yawning. "I wanna eat you up."

"You're tired."

"No." Nuzzling his sternum, she yawned again. "I'm horny."

He grinned into her hair. He'd been tempted to take her this morning, but she'd busied them with packing. An increase in his ability to get hard and stay hard was a welcome companion to this summer's newfound optimism. But his vision swam. He wanted to be intoxicated not by merlot but by her. "Go brush your teeth. I'll put this away and be right there."

~~~~~

Heat rained on Arthur. Rivulets trickled down his chest, clung to lean hips and narrow waist, drops dripped from the ends of his curls. This shower had to be quick. If he got done before she returned from her coffee run, he'd have a minute to sneak out for a smoke. He shut off the spray, stepped onto the area rug, ran cotton fibers along his face, his neck, the solid plains of his slender frame. Patted boney kneecaps and put his foot on the closed toilet to dry between his toes.

He wiped steam from the mirror and opened the outswing window. The air was thick, heavy, as though the clouds could crack open and pour on them at any moment. A syrup of fog obscured the mountains, stealing their peaks. So much for postcard views. Toweling his locks, he opened the bathroom door.

Oh.

Legs folded under her in the corner chair, Y/N read this weekend's issue of Catskill Mountain News. She appeared absorbed, lips moving. Wisps of brown and grey hair softened her face, diffused shadow alternated with silvery light in the hollows of her neck. And she was nude save for his forest green cardigan.

A postcard view just for him.

Sidelong glance locked on her, he ambled to the dresser. The sweater remained unbuttoned, the opening cascading over her bust, displaying enough to taunt. Slivers of toffee areolas titillated, puffy and soft, begging for his touch. Had she started planning this the moment he'd revealed his favorite feature?

Arthur gripped the top drawer's handle, hardening already. He managed enough self-control to adopt his best bedroom voice. "I think you forget your panties."

Toes drew a line down his calf. He twitched. Her foot hooked around his ankle and he twitched again. The newspaper fell to the floor, a gentle rustling that echoed off the tension in the room. "That's what I get for neglecting to pack lace," she said.

He bent to cup her face. Eager and wet, his mouth opened hers, swallowed the moan in her throat. He clasped her hand, intending to curl it around his shaft, ease the pressure mounting in his groin. But she grabbed his ass instead. At her insistence, he straddled her lap. The wicker seat poked his knees.

She grasped him, a languid up and down. Arching into her palm, his erection skimmed her cleavage. His Adam's apple bobbed. She dragged the purplish-red tip of him across her nipples, first the left, then the right. Her areolas tightened as if he'd suckled them, their faint stretchmarks shortening to dabs. Her gaze dropped to watch as she pleasured herself, her breath fanned over his charged flesh. All at once she lifted her breasts, pushed them together, enveloping his length in her warm, velvety skin.

A jolt wracked him. The sight of her in his sweater combined with this new way of loving him made him strain at her sternum. It was messy and strange. He was torn between uncertain laughter and confident exploration. Reticent to put his weight on her, he paused the rocking of his pelvis. "Are you sure this is comforta-?"

"We've waited long enough," she said on a husky chuckle. "Shut up and fuck me."

He ground against her. The sensation wasn't euphoria, not compared to the bliss of being clutched by her walls. More akin to beating off. Yet, her delectable playfulness, the intimacy of trust, her desire to do this to him - for him - captivated. And it would've been a lie to pretend her ample breasts framing his cock wasn't quite the scene.

The channel she'd created soon turned sticky with sweat and lack of air conditioning, slow smoothness slumping to a sluggish stutter. Determined to switch positions and bury himself to the hilt, he squeezed her shoulder, his usual signal for her to stop, to let him take control. She appeared to heed him, dropping her rounded flesh in an instant. Then she seized the base of him, whispered a caress along his testes.

Shock clenched his jaw, he clutched the back of the chair. Her hot tongue waltzed about the head, singed the vein throbbing on the side. Swollen lips lingered, long, drugging kisses interrupted by fervent flicks on the underside of the glans. Swirling, stroking, searing him towards ecstasy. He took hold of his erection, guided it inside her mouth, swept her tresses behind her ear. His length glistened with saliva, inciting the shallow, rapid rhythm of his hips.

He panted her name, a plea cut off by a harsh grunt. One final thrust and he flooded into her, abandoned to release. Toes curled in the air, knees locked at her thighs, fingers clutched her scalp. For a split second, he forgot who he was, where he was, forgot all beyond how to feel. He doubled over, cradling the side of her neck for purchase.

Relief settled in him, loosening his biceps, sensation oozed through his limbs. He'd gone flaccid but she continued to kiss him, like she couldn't bear to let go. He pecked the crown of her head. Rose from her lap and withdrew a step to survey her. Half-lidded, she wiped her chin.

A knock came at the door.

Retrieving her mug from the windowsill, Y/N answered the caller in a steady if higher pitch. "Yes?"

"I realize you have your door hanger here," Mustache started. "But we didn't see you downstairs. Breakfast is over in twenty minutes. Want us to grab you something?"

Arthur had never been so annoyed to make a friend.

"That's thoughtful, thank you. We'll be down before long," she said. Cheery footsteps carried Mustache away, and she collapsed into the chair. A wanton smile lit her eyes, a look of lazy seduction that asked what was next.

His stomach's answer was a protesting growl.

A choked snicker. "Make sure you order extra eggs." She gulped the rest of her coffee, shifted her legs in an unladylike manner that bared her thatch of curls, flashed the shiny pink hidden within. His mouth watered.

Pulling her upwards, he scurried to the bed to plop in the middle of the mattress. She fell forward on one knee, climbed to sit astride him. The box spring squeaked and squawked, loud enough for anyone inviting them to breakfast to hear. When she stretched to put her mug on the nightstand, her breasts grazed his cheeks. He captured one in a kiss, lapped the valley between them. Her center rubbed his abdomen, smeared wet streaks below his navel. She dragged him from her stiff peak, stole his lips with her own. Whimpered and rutted harder, a swift series of strokes that'd soon have her shaking.

He cupped the dip of her waist, lifted her an inch. Pecked a mischievous line down her neck, her breastbone, her belly. He lay back, a gradual recline that brought her to his chest. Elbows hooked under her thighs, he coaxed her higher, until her core sat directly under his chin.

She scrunched her nose, fumbled at the pillow and sheets, as if searching for the right place to land. After six seconds, her elbows drew together, shielding her breasts.

Zigzags and figure eights, he traced patterns on her spine, simple calligraphy in the sheen of her sweat. "It's okay."

Giggling and girlish, she straightened a bit. "It's just a little odd, hovering over you like this."

He chuckled. There was a unique delight in her being the one having to regain her footing, in him being the one to introduce her to a new act. He pressed moist lips to her slightly stubbled leg, a humble request for permission. With a shiver, she gave it.

His touch trailed along her hip, traversed the curve of her abdomen, drifted below. Her folds were swollen, fanned out, a cherished invitation. She was the prettiest scarlet he'd ever seen. He kissed her springy curls, the pad of his thumb brushed her slit. A sudden impulse flared in him, an impulse to say something as reckless as her nude in a cardigan. The round tip of his nose met the heat of her sex. "I love your cunt."

"Arthur!" She covered her face, which had gone red as a flame. "What's gotten into you?"

He wasn't sure but he longed to keep it, this brashness that outmatched hers. His tongue spread her wider, followed her inner lips. She jerked forward.

"May I move?” she asked.

He groaned into her. "Shut up and fuck me.”

Short and firm, swipes teased her hood, splayed flat on her clit. Subtle rolls began to build, a delicate canter that met the movements of his mouth.

Her slick increased with each swallowed cry. She tasted sweet yet ripe, different from the tang of their earlier years. Muskier, like an antique perfume. The heady scent filled him, drove every fiber to please her, hold her to his greedy lips. His palm snuck beneath the sweater, memorized her heated skin centimeter by centimeter.

When he groped her breast, tested the weight of it, she gripped the headboard, splayed her knees wider, brought herself more fully over him.

"Fuck, Arthur..."

He'd fantasized women were soft and squishy, like a down comforter. Easily pliable, able to be wrapped in at the end of the day. And Y/N was all those things. But this part of her, the hat pin nub pulsing beneath his ministrations, was hard and stiff with want of him.

His grip on her thigh tightened, one leg folding behind her, foot flat on the bed. Her writhing hastened, stammering. Hurried weak thrusts as he sucked her off. Fingers dove through his damp curls, tugging as she froze. Quivering, she let loose a moan, which turned into an elated giggle. He licked her through her spasms, craned his neck to keep at it as she tried to back away. A distinctly masculine rush surged through his veins, the satisfaction of displaying his talents, of fulfilling her and thereby himself.

Of being pretty damn good at getting her off.

Once she'd caught her breath, she clambered off him, his arm at her waist anchoring her. Half supine, she faced the wall. The cardigan hung at her side, ribs rising and falling in an ever slowing current.

The board game's box beckoned from the top of the dresser. He scooted up behind her. "Did anyone else do that to you?"

"Not like you do." She paused and a laugh cracked out of her. "I still can't believe you did that our first night together."

Part of him had believed he'd never see her again. He hadn't been about to waste the chance to finally have that experience. But there'd been more to it, an underlying layer he hadn't discerned seven years ago. Although she'd said he'd allowed her to be vulnerable, she allowed it for him, too. To be naked with her, to exist in his natural state. To be himself when he didn't comprehend everything he was. To learn to love her without fear. Losing himself with her was an act of sharing that thrilled despite being old hat, one he craved even after the hundreds of times it'd already occurred.

He ran his hand down her body and cupped her mons. "I wanted to."

Her hand covered his, interlocking their fingers. "It's nice to be wanted."

Neither of them moved to get up. Spent and content, he snuggled closer, arm tucked under his head. He dozed lightly, listened to her even breathing. The room’s sticky air settled over them both.

Suddenly, Y/N flipped over, pushed him on his back. The look in her eyes was a bit concerning. "How long before you're ready again?"

Arthur huffed, did a quick calculation. "I dunno. After lunch? Why?"

She caught his lower lip in a kiss and sucked, snaked her palm between them and squeezed his sleeping sex. "I need seconds."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​​​ @rommies​​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​​​​  @another-day-in-chuckletown​​​​​​ @hhandley80​​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​​ @rafaelbottom​​​​​ @ralugraphics​​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​​ @fleckficgirl​

[honeytae]

if you’re open for regular requests i’d love to request lil scenarios of the boys learning english alongside their english-speaking s/o! this is totally self-indulgent i’m doing the TEFL program and i’m going to south korea next year to teach :)

first of all, that’s amazing omg!! congratulations my love, i hope you have the best time over there and please don’t be shy in sharing your stories with us!!! i tried to stick to the boys actually learning english with their s/o but i strayed from that with a few members just bc i ran out of ideas lol but i hope you still enjoy!

fair warning....i’ve never ~seriously~ tried to learn korean, so i’m not entirely certain of the parallels between korean and english. i just hope these are wholesome enough to override that lmao

namjoon:

“You know,” Namjoon looked up from his phone, “I understand expanding your vocabulary, but why are there so many weird slang words?”

“Kids these days?” You shrugged, the man chuckling in response before flipping his phone around to show you what had puzzled him.

“If something slaps, that’s...good?” He wondered, watching as you suppressed a smile at the tweet he was showing you.

You could tell by the profile picture that the user was an ARMY, one of the many fan profiles on the platform, and the tweet was written completely in English.

Although there was a ‘Translate to Korean’ option readily available with just a tap of his thumb, you knew Namjoon never missed an opportunity to challenge himself to be able to fully comprehend what a native English speaker was trying to say.

You nearly snorted at the tweet’s content, smiling as you read it out loud.

“The Dis-ease bridge just saved my life. Seriously, this song slaps.”

Glancing at Namjoon, he raised his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for you to translate and explain what that could equate to in Korean.

“It’s definitely a good thing, Joon. They love it.”

At your interpretation, Namjoon grinned, nodding to himself as he pulled his phone back in front of his face to scroll through more reaction tweets to the new album release.

seokjin:

“What the hell is that?”

You picked your head up from your sketchbook when you heard Seokjin whine from beside you, eyebrows knitting together at his distressed tone. Taking a glance over at his laptop screen, you found his mouse bouncing from letter to letter on one of his weekly english lessons.

“What is that, like 15 letters? How do you even use that in a sentence?” He went on, obviously flustered by the word on the screen.

Pulchritudinous.

You placed your hand over his to stop his panicked counting of the letters, causing him to look over at you with a sigh as he frowned.

You nearly giggled at his reaction, but the genuine fear in his eyes made you stifle it as you soothingly held his hands in yours. 

“It’s just an over complicated way of saying beautiful. I don’t know why they’re teaching you that, nobody ever uses it.” You assured him, his eyes going down in size a bit at your words before he nodded.

Watching as a smirk tilted his lips, you raised your brows at the sudden expression.

“What?”

“Well like, I could say I’m...that?” He said, eyebrows raised cockily as he gestured to the long word stretched across the screen.

“Well it’s actually not used like,” you paused, giving in with a shrug as you grinned back at him.

“Sure, love.”

yoongi:

“Why did I skip English class all the time?” Yoongi sighed, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he plucked at the skin in frustration.

“Because you were trying to be a rebel.” You answered without looking up from your phone, the man obviously not liking your answer as he reached over to where you were laying beside him to pinch at your hip.

Yelping, you scooted across the mattress to get away from his hand, whining his name with a scoff before looking over at his notepad.

“What are you doing, anyway?” You asked, leaning on your palm as you scanned the rows of scribbled English letters written on the page.

“I’m trying to get better at writing.” He admitted shyly, a small grin on his face to match the fond one on your own. 

“Aw,” you pouted, Yoongi raising his eyebrows at your tone, “but I like your chicken scratch.”

“You’re such a brat.” He chuckled, adjusting the velcro on his brace with a grunt.

Since Yoongi’s shoulder surgery took away obvious straining activities like dancing and performing, he’d turned to studying English from the comfort of your bed during his recovery as one of the only safe activities he could partake in for a while.

It was now one of his favorite past times, learning new words and phrases he could potentially use in the future. It worked for you both because it took his mind off the pain and kept him motivated, and since you could speak both his and your language, you could help him out whenever he got stuck on something.

Usually he did lessons verbally on his phone, but it seemed today he had taken the old fashioned route.

“Your handwriting really isn’t bad, Yoongs.” You observed, the carefully placed tails at the end of each ‘a’ making you smile out of fondness for the man.

“My man has the prettiest handwriting.” You cooed, pushing a strand of his stark black hair out of his eyes as he blushed down at his notebook.

“Stop that.”

hoseok:

“Hey, babe?” Hoseok called for you, listening to your footsteps growing closer before you popped your head into the kitchen doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I’m having a little trouble.” He gestured to his open laptop on the counter, you recognizing it as an assignment from his English course.

“What happened?”

“Pronouns. Pronouns happened.” He pouted, his disdain for the new chapter quite obvious as he stared down his computer screen.

“What about them?” You asked, stepping closer to the man sitting at the kitchen island and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I need to make ten sentences using proper pronouns and I feel like I’m doing it all wrong.” He explained, causing you to hum as you looked over his sentences.

“These look great, Hobi.” You smiled as you glanced over the first three he’d written, flawlessly executed on the document.

“Can you help me with the next one?” He wondered, you nodding your head as you took a seat on the stool next to his.

“What do you want the next one to say?” You asked, watching as he glanced off to the side in thought, slightly squinting his eyes at the tile floor beneath the sink.

“My house is next to,” He spoke in English, pausing as he searched his brain for what pronoun to put next.

“Theys?” He answered as more of a question, then shaking his head as he switched back to Korean, “wait, no.” He sighed, placing his chin in his hand in thought before glancing over to you.

“I know it’s wrong, I just don’t know what the right answer is instead.” He explained, you shooting him a loving smile as you pushed the dark raven hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss to the newly revealed skin.

“I’ll help you, Sunshine. No worries.”

jimin:

Flopping onto the bed, you let your tired body fall on top of Jimin’s hoodie clad chest, his arm encircling your body as he mumbled a soft greeting to you.

“Hm, what are you learning about today?” You nuzzled into his chest, peering at his phone propped up on his thigh.

“Animals. Birds, mostly.” He answered, briefly turning from the screen to press a kiss to your head before focusing back on the row of English words matched with pictures of popular birds glowing from the device.

The first was a robin, the next a blue jay, and then a dove.

You listened as the virtual instructor prompted Jimin to repeat after her, spelling out the letters before stating the whole word. You smiled as your boyfriend followed instruction, pronouncing the words the best he could after the microphone chimed for him to do so.

“D-o-v-e. Dove.”

“Dove.” He repeated, smiling to himself as the app announced he got the point with a little heart.

“That’s cute.” He went back to his native language, you humming in confusion as you lifted your head up off his chest to look at him.

“The heart?” You asked, reaching up to twist a stray strand of hair out of his eye as he shook his head.

“Dove.” He said again, making you tilt your head, not knowing what he meant.

“It sounds like ‘love.’” He connected the two English words, you smiling fondly at him in response before scooting up the bed to kiss the tip of his button nose.

“You’re so cute.”

taehyung:

Three knocks at the door announced someone’s arrival to your bedroom, causing your head to lift from the novel you’d been so immersed in. Taehyung was home, but you’d wanted to give him space because you knew he needed to work on lyrics for his mixtape in order to submit them on time. 

“Hey,” he poked his head in with a small smile, “can you help me with something?” He asked sheepishly, stepping further into the room when you nodded.

“Of course. What is it?” You set your book down, marking your place before closing it to pay full attention to your boyfriend.

“Well, I’m trying to write this verse in English and,” he trailed off with a shrug, “you know.” He finished, you nodding in response with a gesture for him to come sit next to you.

He eagerly walked over to you with his notebook in hand, lowering himself to the mattress before rolling his way over to where you were leaning against the headboard.

Honestly, Taehyung’s English wasn’t bad at all. He was insecure about it, but you’d never really understood what the reason for that feeling was. His vocabulary was more than decent, his comprehension was good, and his pronunciation was great for having such a thick accent.

But there were many times where Taehyung came to you for guidance, as you were a native English speaker yourself.

And so, as he rested his head on your shoulder confiding in you about everything he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it, you patiently took him through what would work and rhyme best, smiling as he hummed the melody to himself to see if the phrases would work in his creation.

jungkook:

“Baby, can you read it to me again before we go on? Just one more time.”

You glanced over at your boyfriend in his makeup chair, several employees bustling around the man as they attempted to get him ready to go on stage while they had him seated.

With his arm extended backward to where you stood behind his leather chair, he offered his phone to you while shooting you a grin through the reflection in the mirror.

Taking the device from his hand, you opened it to the notes app where he’d written what he wanted to say in his statement on stage in just a few minutes.

You were in London tonight, which meant that all of the boys had been rehearsing their English so that they could communicate easier with their audience.

Jungkook, ever the over-achiever, was determined to do the toughest English tongue twister he could possibly find. Not only that, but in a British accent for his British ARMY’s.

“Betty bought a bit of better butter to make her bitter butter better.” You read from the phone, barely able to read the sentence yourself before you glanced up at Jungkook through the mirror again.

You watched your boyfriend nod as his brain took in the words you’d just said, taking a deep inhale before he began speaking the phrase back to you.

You gawked as the man effortlessly repeated after you, a few of the makeup artists stopping as well as Jungkook raised his eyebrows back at you.

“Was that okay?”

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Sleeping together

Series masterlist

Word count: 2497

Genre: Soft angst and fluff

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: A lot of mentions of sex but it is never in a sexual way, brief mentions of past sexual abuse/consent issues (let me know if I need to add any)

Chapter summary: You and Natasha have a bit of a miscommunication but you talk it out and your date night goes much better than planned.

A/n: Okay so this is part five in the flustered series so I finally decided to turn it into a proper series and hopefully by the time this is out I have edited the previous chapters to add proper links and stuff. I forgot who asked for a part five, it might have been an anon, but I hope that person likes it! Because this series isn't planned, I don't have an end goal so if people want more I'll write more but I don't have to if nobody is interested. As with every chapter in this series you don't have to read any of the other chapters for it to make sense, but I do recommend reading them. I hope you enjoy!

“Pass me the plates,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the stack from her hands and carry it over to the sink. She follows and hugs you from behind as you wash, which makes it much more difficult to move but you are definitely not going to complain.

“Hurry up,” she mumbles, resting her head against your back, near where your shoulders meet your neck.

“So demanding,” you tease, “maybe I could be faster if a certain somebody wasn’t restricting my movement.”

“Fine then, you won’t get any hugs,” she says, taking a step back and giving a small laugh when you frown. “I need to set up Netflix first anyways.”

You still frown a little but focus on finishing the dinner cleanup as soon as possible so you can go cuddle with her on the couch. Even after months you still can’t believe that you’re allowed to do things like that. She means absolutely everything to you and although you still haven’t told the rest of the team yet you want to move forward in your relationship a little bit. Which brings you to your current problem; how to ask Natasha to stay the night.

You’re trying not to think about it too much because if you do you know you’ll end up chickening out and you really want to know what it feels like to cuddle as you fall asleep and to wake up next to her. You’ve imagined the smell of her hair in the mornings would be like far more times than you would like to admit. You can’t really help it, there’s something about her that makes you want to always be around her and hug her and protect her from the world. It’s ridiculous you know, she’s a complete badass and you already spend a ton of time together but you want more, as selfish as that sounds.

“The Office or Lucifer?” she asks, scrolling through to get to your continue watching list. “Y/n?”

You curse yourself realizing you heard the question but didn’t actually answer. “Oh um, The Office if that’s alright with you.”

“I wouldn’t have presented that as an option if it wasn’t.” she responds. “Now come here.”

To her obvious displeasure instead of sitting right next to her like always you take the far end of the couch, playing with your hands nervously.

“I was wondering if you would maybe like to stay the night after.” you say, watching her reaction carefully.

“Sleep together?” Her voice and face are blank so you can’t read her reaction at all.

“Yeah.”

Your throat tightens nervously as it seems to take hours to respond when really it’s just a few (way too long) seconds.

“Okay.” She says finally, a little unsure.

“Okay?” You ask in confirmation, relieved.

She nods and says more firmly, “Okay.”

You smile and scoot over on the couch so you’re beside her as normal, wrapping your arm around her shoulders to pull her towards you. She presses play before setting the remote down and relaxing into your body.

---

After a few episodes you’re almost fully stopped paying attention to the show and it seems Natasha is having the same problem. The show is amazing, you love it, but nothing can ever compare to having the girl of your dreams in your arms so ignoring it completely you lean over and give her a kiss.

She responds eagerly and when you move to pull away for air she doesn’t let you, wrapping her hands around the back of your head to make sure you can’t leave. You smile into the kiss and give in to her demands for more, gently pulling back and leaning your head against hers after a couple of minutes.

“Bedroom?” you ask, knowing both of you are done with the show.

She hesitates for a split second, so quickly that you wonder if you made it up. “Bedroom.” she confirms.

She leads the way and you trail behind, stopping as you remember to turn off the tv and lights before joining her. She seems nervous as she sits down on the bed and you sit down on the bed beside her, trying to calm her but it seems to have the opposite effect which is strange because usually your presence comforts her.

“What’s wrong?” you ask gently.

“Nothing.” she lies. You can tell that there’s something she’s not telling you but you don’t want to push her so you back off.

“Okay, just if you need to talk…”

She smiles a bit. “I know, thank you.”

You lose yourself in her smile a little, staring at her face. She’s really pretty, it makes you lose your proper train of thought.

“I love you.” you tell her.

“You mean the world to me.” she says back. She still hasn’t told you she loves you yet but it’s okay because you can read between the lines and know she is just as serious about you, it’s just hard for her to say those words.

Leaning in to kiss her gently you expect to pull away quickly so you can get ready for bed but she deepens the kiss. You have no complaints so you kiss back harder, one hand on the back of her neck the other weaving through her hair. She makes a small noise of happiness and tries to pull you closer with her hands on your hips. Her hands move as you continue to makeout and the tips of her fingers tease the hemline of your shirt. You gasp at the cold feel of them as she slips them just under the edge but she pretends nothing is happening and swallows your gasp, focusing your attention back to her mouth.

For a second you forget about her hands but you gasp again when you feel them move upwards. It’s not bad per say but it’s the first time Natasha has done this so it’s surprising. You had always assumed she wasn’t interested in the sexual parts of a relationship because she complained about how people are only in it for sex and has never expressed interest in it before.

Reluctantly you pull back slightly, breathing hard. “Tasha.”

She frowns and retracts her hands a little. “What? Am I doing it wrong.”

“No, no,” you reassure, “it’s good. But I just wanted to make sure that this is what you want.”

“You mean sex?” she asks and you nod. “We’re in a relationship so of course we will have sex.”

“We don’t have to just because we’re in a relationship.” you tell her.

She frowns again, confused. “But I thought this is what you want.”

“I only want it if you want it.” you say. It worries you how she talks about sex as if it’s something that has to be done just because you’re in a relationship and you might want it. You want to punch whoever made her think it doesn’t matter what her wants are.

“But you said you wanted to earlier.” she says in explanation, looking away. “I’m sorry, I just thought you did.”

“Tasha,” you reach out an arm to touch her so she turns back to you, “first of all, I have no idea what you’re talking about and second of all you did nothing wrong, you don’t have to apologize.”

“You wanted to sleep together tonight.” she tells you. “You said you wanted me to spend the night and I asked if you wanted to sleep together and you said yes.”

Your eyes widen when you realize how your earlier conversation sounded. “I’m so dumb, I meant it in the literal sense of just sleeping.” you tell her, laughing slightly at your mistake.

“Oh.”

“A good oh or a bad oh?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she says, “Is it because you don’t want me?”

It’s your turn to be unsure. “I never really thought of it much to be honest because I didn’t think that sex is what you wanted.”

“I’m fine with it if you want it.” she says and you look at her sadly.

“No,” you tell her, “you shouldn’t have to be fine with it.”

“I don’t hate it,” she insists, “just because I’d rather not doesn’t mean I won’t sometimes. Our relationship is more important to me than not having sex.”

“And our relationship is more important to me than having sex.” you counter. “All I want is for you to be comfortable.”

“Are you sure?” she asks and there’s a dull pain in your heart because you can’t bear to see her so hesitant. You don’t want to imagine the number of people over the years who hadn’t respected her boundaries or who had demanded things that she went along with even when she didn’t want to.

“I’m very sure Tasha.” you say, looking into her eyes so she knows you’re telling the truth. “We can talk about it more tomorrow but right now I want to sleep with my girlfriend in the literal sense and maybe cuddle if you want that.”

“I like cuddling.” she says and you laugh at the way she says cuddling, like she’s embarrassed to admit it.

“Good because I like it too.” you tell her. “Would you like to go back to your room to get something to wear to bed or are you fine with some of my stuff?”

“Your stuff is fine.” she says so you get up and ruffle through your drawers. For yourself you just grab your usual pyjama pants and a t-shirt and for her you find some sweatpants and a t-shirt from college. Maybe it's a little self indulgent that it’s the one thing you own that has your name on it but sue you if you want her to wear it. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind when you hand it to her so it’s not like it’s a big deal anyways.

You both sort of stand awkwardly looking at each other when you have your pyjamas, unsure of what to do but after a few seconds you turn around to give her privacy and start changing, not knowing if she’s doing the same. When you turn back she’s already changed and you gesture wordlessly to the bathroom that is attached to your bedroom so you can finish getting changed.

Luckily the last time you bought toothbrushes they came in a three pack so you’re able to find an extra one for Natasha and you both brush your teeth in silence before taking turns washing your faces. As you finish you turn off the water but instead of drying your hands you flick them at her playfully so the water lands on her. She scowls with her lips but laughs with her eyes at your antics, making her way out of the bathroom and back to your bed.

“Left or right?” you ask her.

“I don’t care really.”

“Okay then, I’ll take the right.” you say brightly because that is your favourite side.

“I was hoping you would say that, I secretly wanted the left.” she admits, climbing into bed after you.

“It works out perfectly then.” you say, smiling at her. You don’t know if you should make the first move to cuddle or you should wait for her. She did say earlier that she liked that but you don’t want to make it seem like you’re pressuring her.

Luckily for you you don’t have to stress out for too long because she hesitantly moves closer so her side is slightly touching yours so you take that as an invitation to shift and pull her closer so that you’re the big spoon and she’s the little spoon.

“Is this okay?” you ask just to be sure and she nods. It feels nice to hold her and you could get used to this but for now you’re too jittery to fall asleep first. You just want to stay up all night so you don’t lose any time spent cuddling.

She’s cute as she falls asleep. First her breaths deepen a little but then she lets out quiet snores, not enough to bother you but just enough to make you giggle. You didn’t expect the Black Widow to snore but somehow it’s fitting.

---

You feel something shaking you but you feel too sleepy to figure out what it is so you try to roll over only to find yourself trapped by arms.

“Y/n,” you hear Natasha whisper, “are you awake?”

You open your eyes and can faintly see the outline of Natasha’s face in the dark. “I am now, what is it?”

She’s silent for a minute and you take the time to try to focus your eyes more, rubbing at them until you can see properly. She is peering down at you with an expression you can’t place. It looks nervous but happy at the same time.

“Tasha?” you ask, trying to prompt her into speaking.

She takes a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I love you Tasha.” you say back immediately, knowing that she needs to hear it so she’ll stop gnawing at her lip nervously.

“I love you so much Y/n.” she says. “I’m sorry for waking you up but I was awake and wanted to tell you and would have chickened out if I didn’t do it now.

“Don’t apologize.” you tell her, reaching up to gently trace the side of her face with your hand. “I’m glad you could tell me because I love you so much.”

“I’m glad I could finally tell you, I’ve been wanting to ever since you first said it to me on our rooftop date.” she admits. “And I want to tell the team about us now if you still want to.”

“I don’t think they would appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night just so we can tell them we’re dating.” you joke. “But I definitely want to tell them still.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

You both nod awkwardly at each other for a second before bursting out in laughter. You feel light, like the stupidest thing could make you laugh because you’re in such a good mood. Natasha loves you. You! She could have pretty much anyone but she loves you. You know that it isn’t that much of a step in your relationship and that she already chose you but you didn’t expect how giddy you would feel when you heard her say it.

“Oomph.” You let out a noise and Natasha collapses on top of you before rolling off.

“Sorry.” she giggles, not sounding very sorry at all.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say sarcastically, “now we should get some more sleep.”

You open your arms and she moves back into them like how you were when you first fell asleep. You feel overwhelmed by everything Natasha and you fall asleep to her cute snoring sounds and her hair that smells really good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt happier.

---

<<<previous chapter // next chapter>>>

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x Reader) p.3

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: ok last chapter! It’s just smut basically... or my attempt at it. @darkficsyouneveraskedfor did the best she could to clean it up for me. Poor girl.

Chapter 3:

You squeak in surprise as your weight is supported mostly by your ankles, head slipping dangerously close to the knife above you. He laughs as he watches you wiggle on the board, blood rushes to your head quickly.

“Perfect” he says as he removes the knife from near your scalp and cuts the lace bra from your body.

He lets out a low hum, dragging his long fingers over your tits. He pauses a moment to pinch each nipple, twisting harshly and pulling before letting them go. You hiss at the slight pain while he admires your hardening buds.

He draws tantalizing circles around each nipple with the knife as you try to keep still, afraid he might cut you. You can’t fight the goosebumps that rise due to the cold knife on your hot skin.

“Stop” you sob as tears run across your forehead and into your hairline.

“I thought all women enjoyed a little foreplay” he jokes.

“No, I don’t want this, please stop” you try to shake your head but your cheek grazes a knife still implanted in the wall next to you.

“Lies” he says tossing the knife to the ground.

He brings both hands up, tickling along your chest and gives a harsh slap to each breast. He cups them roughly, digging his fingertips in to the tender skin as he squeezes them.

You try not to scream at the overstimulation, you’ve never had someone give them this much attention before. He plays with them until they are so sensitive you pant and push your back into the wooden wheel to try to get away from him.

You bite your tongue to hold in any noise, knowing that is all he wants. He wants you to submit.

“Let’s see what else you have for me to play with” his large soft hands slide down, or up, your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

More tears fall as he slips his digits into your shorts and teases the sensitive skin of your pelvis. One finger slips down your slit, dipping in to find your clit. You flinch as he rubs slow circles over it.

You try not to react, but the adrenaline, the blood flowing to your head, and the shadow of his touch on your chest makes it hard to focus on anything but the way he touches your clit.

He slips one hand out from under your shorts but leaves the other to play with you as he unbutton them. Your head tilts to look at what he’s doing, he can’t possibly get the shorts off in this position.

To your horror, he grips the fabric on each side of the zipper and tears the shorts straight down the middle. You let out a startled scream at the display of pure strength, the fabric tearing along the seam and he pulls each piece away until you feel the cool air along your panties.

“Mm, already wet for me,” he hums in delight seeing your wet undies cling to your lips.

He crooks a single finger and pulls the underwear aside and leans in to lick a firm line along your slit. His tongue is warm and slippery and you tense as you try to fight your growing arousal. He licks long and slow and brings his hands to pull your lips apart, exposing your pussy to him fully.

“Such a pretty little whore,” he smirks before diving in.

He alternates between circling your bud and dipping his tongue into your hole. Each time he changes it makes you twitch and without thinking you arch your back. A moan finally breaks free as he sucks on your clit hard.

“That’s it. Sing for me,” he orders, voice deep with desire.

He feasts on you, getting more wild with each sound you make. It’s as if he wants to push you to your climax as quickly as possible. He pulls your clit into his mouth again and shakes his head side to side and you wail as you push your pelvis against his bewitching tongue.

You tense as you prepare to fall over that pleasurable cliff but you are left wanting when he pulls away suddenly. You sob as the ache of your orgasm fades away and your head snaps up to look at him.

“Wha-?” You mumble.

“You didn’t think I’d let you come before me,” he laughs at the pathetic desperation in your eyes.

You close your eyes, disgusted at yourself for falling for his tricks. Just a few light touches and he has you burning for him.

Your eyes pop open when you hear the gentle zip of his slacks. He slips his hands into his briefs and pulls out his throbbing cock. You watch as he pumps it a few times, precum dripping from the tip as he nears your face.

“Open wide, darling,” he lilts.

You bite your lips and close your eyes again, just to spite him. You aren’t sure you can take all of him, and your head is already pounding.

“Not wise to fight me with those knives so close to that pretty face,” he snickers as he taps his velvety tip against your mouth.

You open your mouth, let’s just get it over with, you think. He slips inside slowly and lets out a long breath. You can’t see his face from this angle but you feel himlooking at you.

He gently places his hand on your neck as he pushes in steadily, and plunges to the back of your throat. You gag as he fills your mouth and you hold back a heave. Your eyes roll back as he blocks your ragged breathes. The lack of oxygen and the pulsing of blood in your head is intense and uncomfortable.

He stays there, deep down your throat for a few seconds, his public hair tickling your chin, as you struggle against your bonds.

With a sigh he pulls back allowing you a choking breath. You cough as you try to recover.

“Would you like me to spin you back upright?” He asks softly and runs his fingers lightly over your lips and down your neck.

“Yes, please,” you beg.

“So polite,” he praises. “But no.”

He cackles as he shoves his cock back into your mouth and fucks your face. You can do nothing but hang there as he pounds the back of your throat, slowing now and again to push further down making you gag around him. He speeds up at every cough or gag.

“You pretend not to like it, but look at this dripping cunt,” he says slapping your pussy and you scream around his dick.

The stimulation of your voice tips him over the edge and he pours his seed in the back of your throat. Gravity makes it difficult to swallow so you cough and spit up his cum as he pulls away.

You’re still coughing and dizzy when he twists the board back into place so you are upright. The pressure in your head takes a moment to subside. You make a show of spitting out as much of his seed as you can, aiming in his direction. He smiles at your attempts and proceeds to remove the remaining daggers from the wall, using the last one to slice away the stray bits of your clothes.

He tosses the knife away and kneels down in front of you and you tense in anticipation. With a smirk, he pops open the cuff on your left ankle, and moves over to release the right, letting your feet drop back to the center so that you can support some weight on your toes. You breathe a sigh of relief as the bite of the metal around your feet relents.

“You know, you make me almost miss performing,” he grins and flashes his sparkling white teeth. “I loved making the crowd hang on my every move. Oh, the way they used to gasp or cheer with just a flick of my wrist. Mmm, maybe I’ll keep you as my assistant.” He hums as he stands in front of you, taking you all in.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’d make a very good hooker,” you insult.

His eyes flicker at your comment and his smile fades so fast it almost makes you regret your jab.

“Let’s see how long you can keep that fire” he growls deeply, grasping your hips.

His fingers dig into your bones before he drags them down the outside of your thighs. He hooks them under your ass and lifts up your lower half. He pins your legs around his hips as his hardening cock prods at your entrance. His green eyes bore into yours as he finally sinks into you.

He is larger than any other man you have encountered and he relishes in the pain painted clearly across your face. As he brings his pelvis flush to yours, he pauses and hums at the feeling.

“I knew you’d have a tight cunt. Hng. It’s delicious, darling.” He groans as he slides in and out.

“S-stop calling me that,” you grunt.

You shriek when he responds with a jarring smack to your ass. You clench around his cock by accident. He laughs and pounds into you harder between spanks. You can feel him beating against your cervix and you twist your hips as you try to relieve the pressure.

“Please, oh god, it hurts,” you sob as you shake your head.

“You love it,” he hisses.

“No, no. Please!” You scream and pull against the cuffs, trying desperately to put some space between his cock and your cervix and wiggle his hands from your ass.

He digs his nails into your ass cheeks and picks you up and drops you on his dick until you scream in agony and pleasure. The pleasure catches you by surprise but you feel that coil twisting in your stomach no matter how hard you fight it and no matter how much it hurts.

He sees your eyes go wide and you bite your lip when he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you and he focuses his attention there.

You gasp when he drops one of your legs, opting to use his fingers on your overstimulated clit. He rubs hard circles until you are crying and pleading him to let it end. A shiver rolls down your spine as you race to your peak, your body tensing and your breathing erratic. Just a little more, anything to push you over that last hurdle.

“Should I let you come this time, darling?” he whispers into your ear.

“Yes. Fuck. Please, please,” you beg frantically, terrified he will deny you again.

You no longer recognize yourself, reduced to a needy pathetic mess. Nothing else matters except for that ache, the desperation to come overloading every other sensation or thought.

His deep chuckle in your ear makes you cringe and your pussy clenches as he speeds up his thrusts.

“Very well, come for me now, darling,” he commands and pinches your clit between two fingers.

You curse and scream as the squeeze tips you over the ledge, your cunt constricting around his length as your body arches into him. He pumps into you as you continue falling, toes curling and shoulders scraping the chipped wood board at your back. You delight in the euphoria and relief that washes over you all at once.

You come down from the longest orgasm of your life, your pussy easing slightly as your vision returns slowly, though your ears still buzz. Through your lashes you see his face, smug and cruel, as his hips stutter announcing his own release.

“Yes. I think I’ll keep you for a while longer.” He breathes into your neck as you feel him pull out of you.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Proposal ~ T.H

chapter four: the party

synopsis: fake marriage, real trouble

Series Masterlist

That night, you went to Paddy’s room after dinner to watch movies with him. Tom was already in his room, sitting on the floor and fumbling with a projector. You waved to Paddy and sat on the ground, putting some distance between you at the boys.

“All set.” Tom patted the projector before taking a seat on the other side of Paddy. Paddy looked between the two of you curiously, noticing how far apart you were.

“Don’t you guys want to sit together?” He asked. You and Tom exchanged a knowing look before returning your eyes to the screen. You let out a sigh and walked over to Tom, kicking his legs open with your feet. Tom watched you curiously as he spread his legs out further to make room for you. You gave him a sarcastic smile before taking a seat between his legs and leaning on his chest. Tom blinked a few times as he processed what was happening. Something about the position seemed more initiate than your forced kisses. He slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, letting his chin rest on the top of your head. You shifted uncomfortably in his embrace, not used to being that close to another person. His cologne wafted into your nose every time he moved and you could feel his heartbeat against your back. It occurred to you that before all of this, you and Tom had never even hugged. You decided for Paddy and the deals sake to just relax and stay in his arms, but a part of you felt weird. That being said, another part of you kinda liked it.

You spent the next morning playing more golf with Dom before he had to get ready for Paddy’s party. It was a close game, but he ended up taking the win in the end.

“Great game today.” Dom smiled as he went to high five you. “I should’ve known Tom would end up with a golfer.”

“You did great too.” You said as you avoided the Tom comment. “I didn’t realize you could work up such a sweat by playing golf.”

“It sneaks up on ya.” He agreed. “There’s a bathroom connected to Tom’s room. You can shower there. It’s nice and private.”

“Thanks.” You smiled at him. “I’ll see you at the party.”

You headed back inside and went straight to Tom’s room. You were dripping with sweat and didn’t want anyone to see you until you had showered.

Elsewhere, Tom was jogging around the neighborhood to clear his head. He knew everything that was happening between you for just for show, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like it. And to make matters worse, his family totally loved you. He’d be lying if there wasn’t a big part of him that wished you weren’t just pretending.

Tom finished his jog just as you were finishing up in the shower. He went into his room and shut the door behind him, immediately peeling off his sweaty t shirt. The music from his headphones kept him from hearing the sound of you turning the water off.

“Fuck.” You mumbled when you stepped out of the shower. “No towel.”

You continued looking around for a towel while you tried not to get water everywhere. His bathroom was completely empty of linens, but you figured he’d have some in his room.

“Tom?” You called. “Are you in the room?”

Tom couldn’t hear you over his music, so he remained silent as he peeled his sweaty shorts and underwear off. When you didn’t hear a response, you assumed no one was in the room and it was safe to go out. You left the bathroom right as Tom was walking towards you, resulting in your naked body smacking right into his.

Tom did his best to catch you, but you slipped right out of his arms and landed on the floor. You looked up to see a very sweaty and very naked Tom standing above you with a terrified expression.

“AHH!” You screamed and quickly covered yourself.

“AHH!” Tom screamed back and threw his hands over his dick.

“Why are you naked?” You yelled from the floor.

“Why are you naked?” He yelled right back.

“I was in the shower!” You shouted. “What’s your excuse?”

“I was about to get in the shower!” He shouted as well. “Where’s your towel?”

“You didn’t have any in your stupid bathroom.” You snapped at him. “Who gets naked outside of the bathroom?”

“Who comes out of the bathroom naked?” He shot back.

“I do when my half wit assistant doesn’t put any towels in his bathroom.” You sassed him.

“I haven’t been here in two years!” He protested. “Of course I didn’t leave a towel in there. Maybe if you gave me some time off now and then, I’d come home and replenish the linens in my bathroom.”

“Oh, so this is my fault?” You raised an eyebrow as you stood up.

“Pretty much.” He nodded.

“I...” You lost your train of thought as your eyes traveled down his body. He had sweat dripping down his defined abs, momentarily knocking every work you knew out of your brain. You swallowed a little as your eyes fell on his dick, which his hands were doing a poor job of covering.

“Why are you so ripped?” You asked as you shifted your arm to make sure you were fully covering your boobs.

“I work out.” Tom said quietly as he struggled to maintain eye contact. There were you, his boss that he’d been crushing on for two years, standing in front of him fully naked. The water dripping off your body didn’t help, and the fact that you were covered by nothing but your hands made it even worse. Tom gulped and let his eyes flick down just once. He was only human after all.

“Well, if you have that much time to work out, I must not be working you hard enough.” You quipped, desperately trying to change the subject.

“You work me just fine.” Tom mumbled. You made awkward eye contact upon hearing his words and quickly looked away.

“I’m gonna get dressed now.” You decided.

“I’m gonna get in the shower.” He nodded profusely and cleared his throat.

“Right. Good. Take a shower. That’s an order. From your boss.”

“Yes, miss.” He replied as he moved past you.

“Tom? Y/n? Are you in there?” Nikki’s voice suddenly came from outside the bedroom door. You and Tom looked at each other in a panic before scrambling to find clothes.

“Oh my God.” You whispered harshly. “This isn’t happening.”

“Forget the clothes!” He whispered back. “Get in the fucking bathroom now.”

Tom picked you up and threw you over his shoulder before running into the bathroom. He quickly slammed the door behind the two of you and pressed your back against the door as he listened for his mom

“Hello?” She called from the room. “Is anyone in here?”

You and Tom were pressed chest to chest in total silence as you impatiently waited for her to leave. Finally, you heard footsteps and the door shutting.

Tom let out a breath of relief and took a step back from you, accidentally getting a glimpse of your uncovered body. You quickly put your hands back over yourself and straightened up.

“As fun as this has been.” You said dully. “I’m leaving. Enjoy your shower.”

“Yes, miss.” He mumbled as you left the bathroom.

You shut the bathroom door behind you and covered your mouth with your hand. Your shy little assistant didn’t seem so shy anymore.

And he definitely wasn’t little.

Ten minutes later, Tom emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. You looked up at him from you the bed and gasped.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “There was a towel in there the whole time.”

“But I looked everywhere.”

“You didn’t check under the sink.” He shrugged as he went to his dresser. Your body felt hot with embarrassment as he picked out his party clothes.

“I’m gonna get dressed now.” He told you. “Close your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes at him but did as he asked. You gulped when you heard his towel hit the ground, not daring to open your eyes until he gave you permission.

“Okay.” He said softly as he sat across from you on the bed. “You can open them now.”

Your eyes fluttered open and you were met with Toms gentle smile. His curls were still damp from the shower, and he was clad in his party clothes for later.

“Hi.” You said softly as you hugged your knees to your chest. You felt slightly intimidated by him at the moment and you weren’t sure why.

“Hi.” He smiled shyly. “Nice to see you found some clothes.”

“Shut up. I saw you too, you know. Your hands are barely big enough to cover all of that.” You said as you gestured to his crotch. Tom’s face went red and you once again had the upper hand.

“That says a lot.” He joked. “My hands are pretty big.”

“No they are not.” You scoffed.

“Yes they are. Look.” He said as he held up his hand.

“Maybe mine are just small.” You shrugged.

“I doubt it.” He shook his head. “Let me see.”

You wordlessly held your hand up and pressed your palm against his. His hand was objectively bigger compared to yours, enough so that he could curl his finger tips over yours.

“Well, would you look at that.” He chuckled. “I’m right.”

“Wow.” You nodded. “There really is a first time for everything.”

“Why can’t you accept that I’m right sometimes?” He asked you as he slipped his fingers between yours and closed them. You didn’t even notice you were holding hands as you looked into his eyes.

“Because I hate being wrong.” You told him.

“I think you’re wrong about me.” Tom pushed his limit with you. “I know what you think of me. You think I’m all shy and submissive. I’m really not.”

“Please.” You smirked. “You let me walk all over you like a rug.”

“Maybe I just like being underneath you.” Tom said lowly. Your eyes widened at him and you quickly withdrew your hand,

“I’m sorry.” He stammered. “I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, wanting to leave the topic. “We should go see if your mom needs help with the party.”

You managed to avoid Tom for a few hours as you helped Nikki set up the party. Once the guests arrived, however, you had to remain by Toms side and play the part of his fiancée. You didn’t really care about lying to Paddy’s friends when they asked who you were, but Toms grandma asking you when she’d be getting a grandchild sent you over the edge. You quickly excused yourself and ran out the front door, not stopping until you were halfway down the block. Tom caught up to you just as you were catching your breath, not knowing he was the last person you wanted to see.

“Tom, please.” You panted. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

“I can’t just leave you out here.” He shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t want to tell him the truth, which was that you were having serious doubts about the fake marriage. Seeing him in his childhood home and interacting with his family humanized him in a way that made it impossible for you to dislike him. He wasn’t just your assistant anymore. He was someone who was willing to put their freedom at risk to help you, and that terrified you.

“I’m fine.” You lied. “I just didn’t realize faking a marriage meant lying to your grandmother about when I was gonna push out her grandchildren.”

“We have to lie.” He reminded you. “My family are the first people the IRCC will go to to see if our marriage is real. If we tell them it’s fake, they could get in trouble for knowing.”

“I know, I know.” You sighed. “But they’re all so nice. I hate lying to them.”

“Then I’ll do all the lying.” He assured you as he rested his hands on your shoulders. “Let’s just go back inside and stand off by ourselves. You won’t have to lie to anyone, okay? No one will even know we’re there.”

You looked into his eyes and let out a deep sigh, allowing him to keep his hands on you for once.

“Okay.” You agreed. “I’ll go back in. Just keep your grandma away from me.”

“I promise, I won’t let her be in the same room as you.” Tom chuckled as he lead you back into his house. As soon as the two of you walked in the front door, everyone’s eyes were on you.

“There they are.” Toms grandma pointed at you. “Nikki just told us you two were engaged. When’s the wedding?”

“Oh, um...” Tom looked at you in a panic, but you were prepared.

“There won’t be one.” You said with a tight smile. “Tom and I are just gonna get married at city hall. We were going this week actually.”

“No wedding?” Nikki frowned. “But you have to have a wedding.”

The entire party murmured in agreement, making you want to die on the spot. Tom could sense you getting overwhelmed, so he slipped his hand into yours and took charge.

“We would love one, but we’re just so busy with work.” He explained, which was partially true. “Y/n doesn’t have the time to pick out a wedding dress and I don’t have time to plan everything. City hall is much easier for our schedules.”

“But this is your once in a lifetime chance to throw a party to celebrate your marriage.” Tom’s grandma protested. “You’ll regret not having a ceremony when you look back on it in a few years.”

“I can promise you, we won’t.” You mumbled under your breath.

“I don’t have anything planned for this Friday.” A priest in the back of the room piped up. “I could officiate your wedding.”

“Why the fuck is there a priest here?” You harshly whispered to Tom.

“He’s our neighbor.” Tom whispered back. “He always stops by for parties.”

“Of course he does. How convenient?” You grumbled to yourself.

“Thank you so much, Father, but we wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.” Tom replied. “Besides, we don’t have a venue.”

“You can have it at our hotel.” A lady you hadn’t met you chimed in. “There’s a huge ballroom on the fourth floor. And it will already be decorated for the gala this Thursday.”

“Of course there’s a gala.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation. “Who is that?”

“My aunt.” Tom whispered back. “She owns the hotel in town.”

“Of course she does.” You nodded. “Of fucking course she does.”

“I can cater it.” Sam spoke up. “And I’ll get my friends from culinary school to help me out.”

“Of course your brother is in culinary school.” You laughed again to yourself.

“Really, it’s okay.” Tom told the crowd. “We-“

“Ah, and she can wear Nikki’s dress.” Tom’s grandma clapped. “The dress is stunning, Y/n. You’ll love it.”

“Tom.” You growled out of the corner of your mouth. “Do something.”

“Thank you all. Really, thank you.” Tom said. “But we’d much rather have a small wedding just between us.”

“It can still be small. It’ll just be a family affair, plus whoever’s in this room.” Dom suggested. “And you can invite your friends from school. They’d never miss your wedding after not seeing you for two years.”

“Well.” You smiled suddenly, making Tom shudder in fear. “Isn’t this all just so convenient? It’s like the universe is telling us to have a wedding.”

You grabbed Toms arm suddenly and pulled him down so you could whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna kill the universe for butt fucking us this hard.”

Tom couldn’t help but laugh at your foul language before he quickly composed himself.

“Thank you all for offering to help us.” Tom announced. “But we’d really prefer-“

“Please?” Nikki interrupted. She had on the most hopeful smile you had ever seen, complete with her hands clasped under her chin. You chewed your bottom lip as you watched her, feeling torn over what to do. If you were getting married anyway, a small wedding couldn’t hurt right? If it made Toms mom happy, you figured you could deal with one ceremony.

“You know what?” You sighed. “Sure. Let’s have a wedding.”

“Yay.” Nikki ran straight to you and hugged you, bouncing up and down with excitement. You hesitantly hugged her back as you made eye contact with Tom over her shoulder. He gave you a small shrug, telling you he was just as thrilled about it as you were.

“I’m so happy.” Nikki said in your ear. “Welcome to our family.”

~

“Tom? Y/n?” Nikki asked as she knocked. It was a few days after the party and you had accidentally slept in. You quickly shot up in bed when you heard the knocking, eyes immediately going to Tom. If she came in, there would be no way to explain why your supposed fiancée was sleeping on the floor while you slept in his bed.

“Tom!” You said in a hushed tone. “Wake up! Your moms at the door.”

Tom didn’t move, even when his mom knocked louder.

“Tom!” You tried again. “Wake up. You have to get into the bed.”

“Hello?” Nikki knocked again softly. “Are you guys awake?”

“Tom.” You said a little louder. “Wake the fuck up!”

Tom stirred in his sleep but didn’t wake up, making you grab a pillow off the bed and throw it at him.

“Who’s there?” Tom mumbled as he sat up.

“Get in bed.” You whispered harshly.

“What?” Tom groggily replied.

“Your mothers at the door.” You whispered. “Get in the bed!”

Tom woke up enough to understand what you were saying and scrambled or get into the bed. You awkwardly wrestled with the sheets as you tried to make it look like he had been in the bed with you the whole time. Tom ended up getting behind you and positioning you between his legs as he let a hand rest on your stomach.

“Oh my God.” You whispered when you felt something on your leg.

“What?” Tom wondered.

“Your penis is literally stabbing me!” You whispered harshly.

“I’m sorry.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s morning.”

“Come in.” You called before giving Tom an angry glare. Nikki opened the door with a bright smile, which you and Tom matched.

“Good morning you two.” Nikki greeted. “I just wanted to tell you that everything is set for Friday. Ive been making phone calls all morning. Ah, I couldn’t sleep. I’m too excited. Only two days away!”

You and Tom exchanged a panicked look but never dropped your smiles.

“So are we.” You lied. “We can’t wait.”

“Me either.” Nikki gushed. “I just wanted to drop this off.”

Nikki stepped forward and handed Tom a list before explaining, “I made a guest list for Friday. Let me know if there’s anyone else you want to add.”

“Will do.” Tom nodded, praying for her to leave. “Thanks, mum.”

“All right. I’ll leave you guys to it.” Nikki blew you two kisses before leaving the room.

“That was a close one.” Tom blew out a breath of relief and handed you the list. “Here’s the list.”

You took it from him and began to read it over, eyebrows furrowing when you saw how many people were on it. Tom read it over your shoulder as his thumb absentmindedly rubbed your stomach.

“Wow.” You gulped. “Who are all these people?”

“Mostly family.” Tom answered. “But the rest are my friends from university.”

“Hm.” You pouted. “You have a lot of friends.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tom shrugged. “I guess so.”

You slumped in Toms arms, never taking your eyes off the list. Tom noticed you quieting down and squeezed you a little.

“Do you have any friends you want to invite?” He asked kindly, craning his neck to look at you. Your eyes flickered away from the list as you slowly folded in it in your hands.

“No.” You said softly. “I don’t.”

“I’m sure a few more people wouldn’t matter. We can invite whoever you want.” Tom offered. He was very aware of the fact that you hadn’t moved from your position on his lap, and he hoped you were aware too.

“There’s um...there’s no one I can think of who would want to come to my wedding.” You laughed weakly before staring at your lap.

“What?” Tom tried to lighten the mood with a smile. “I’m sure that’s not true. What about the people at the office?”

“No one at the office likes me.” You reminded him.

“That’s not true.” Tom shook his head.

“Yes it is.” You said as you looked over your shoulder at him. He could tell you were upset, so he sat up a little and wrapped his other arm around your waist.

“No, it’s not. Because I like you.” He smiled softly. “And I’m in the office.”

“You don’t like me.” You said softly. “You just put up with me so I don’t fire you.”

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be marrying you.”

“You’re marrying me so you can get a promotion.”

“That’s part of it.” He agreed as he took your chin between his fingers so you’d look at him. “But I wouldn’t want to be the editor if you weren’t my boss. I’m marrying you because I want you to stay here.”

You slowly turned back around when you heard him say this, shifting your position so you could full face him.

“You want me?” You asked quietly as you stared into his eyes. Tom nodded slowly as his eyes dropped from your eyes to your lips.

“Of course I do, darling.” He said softly. “I’d miss you if you were gone.”

Tom was close enough that his breath was fanning your face. He could feel the warmth of your hand gliding up his chest and coming to rest on his cheek. Tom sat up even more and pulled you closer to him, beginning to lean in as he shut his eyes.

Instead of feeling your lips against his, Tom felt a sharp smack against his face.

“Ow!” Toms eyes shot open. He put his hand on his stinging cheek and looked at you. You had one hand raised and one covering your mouth in shock.

“Oh my God.” You gasped. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“You slapped me!” Tom exclaimed with hurt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” You repeated. “I panicked.”

“Why?” He asked as he rubbed his cheek.

“Because you were about to kiss me.”

“You could’ve just told me to stop.” He grumbled, grateful that you couldn’t see his embarrassed flush since his cheek was still red from the slap.

“I didn’t want you to stop.” You said before you knew what you were doing. You put your hand over your mouth again and pulled away from him as he processed what he heard.

“What?” He asked. “You wanted me to kiss you?”

“I didn’t say that.” You said quietly as your eyes darted to the side.

“You alluded to it.” He insisted. You looked at him, speechless from embarrassment.

“Shut up.” You said weakly, feeling frazzled at your loss of words.

“You were the one that-“

“I said shut up.” You hissed as you pulled him into a heated kiss. Toms eyes widened before fluttering shut as he leaned into you. Years of pining after you made him hungry, and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from taking advantage of this moment. He gripped your hips and pulled you into his lap, letting his hands roam wherever they pleased. Tom tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You put your ego aside for the time being and slid your hands up his shirt. You dragged your nails down his chest before pulling his shirt off all together. You had to pull away from the kiss for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, and he took this as an opportunity to pull yours off as well. Tom brought a rare smile out of you as he put his hands on your face and softly rubbed your cheeks with this thumb.

“So beautiful.” He whispered. “My wife.”

You responded by putting your hands over his and leaning in to kiss him again. Tom eagerly kissed your back before trailing open mouthed kisses down your neck. You moaned his name softly, so wrapped up in the moment that you didn’t hear the door opening.

“One more thing.” Nikki’s voice sounded in your ears, making you jump away from Tom. You were so startled that you fell right off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud.

“Oh! Sorry.” She apologized. “I just wanted to tell you Sam made pancakes. They’re ready when you are.”

“Thank you.” Tom stammered, sheepishly pulling the covers over his bare chest. Nikki gave him an apologetic smile before shutting the door. You popped up from the floor once she was gone and held your shirt over your body.

“Um, hungry?” You smiled weakly at him.

“Starving.” He gulped before pulling his shirt over his head.

“We should go eat breakfast then.” You pulled your own shirt on and stood up.

“I’ll go first.” Tom quickly got out of the bed. “I’ll um, I’ll see you out there.”

“Yeah.” You forced a smile. “Bye.”

“Bye”. Tom stammered before running out of the room. You let out a frustrated sigh before smoothing your hair and leaving the room. Before you made it to the kitchen, you bumped into Harry in the hallway.

“There you are.” He chuckled as he caught you. “You look a little frazzled.”

“Oh, um, yeah.” You forced a smile. “Just a rough start to my morning, is all.”

“What happened?” He asked. “Did mum catch Tom sleeping on the floor and not in bed with you?”

You let out a small gasp and looked at him in fear. Harry looked back at you with an innocent smile but eyes that told you he knew everything.

“How did you know he slept on the floor?” You whispered.

“Oh, you know.” He shrugged. “I just figured you wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed as the assistant that you’re forcing to marry you.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

“Don’t worry, sis.” Harry patted your back before walking away. “Secrets safe with me.”

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[angryschnauzer]

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together. 

Characters: Werewolf!Captain Syverson, Werewolf!Female Reader, Vampire!Walter Marshall.

Warnings (for this chapter, all small mentions but warning just in case): Breastfeeding, Accidental Cutting Injury/Blood loss, blood transfusions. This chapter contains no sex scenes or scenes of a sexual nature.

A continuation of previous Werewolf!Sy stories Moonlight on the Sand and Castle Under The Stars. This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

The late spring day brought pleasant scents and mouth watering flavours, Blackwater Lake’s town May day parade in full flow as you held two month old Luna in her carrier to your chest, turning to smile at your husband Sy as he balanced Mikey on his shoulders so your son could watch the floats whilst they slowly cruised past. You knew he would be most excited about the Fire Department bringing their trucks past. At the first whoop of the siren Mikey squealed with joy, the ice cream cone in his hand tipping slightly and setting a blob of blue bubblegum flavour gelato into Sy’s cheek;

“Hey, no wriggles! Its raining ice cream down here”

Pausing the consumption of your own cone you handed it to Sy as you reached into your bag and found a baby wipe, moving to wipe his cheek before stretching to wipe your son’s face. Finding a trash can to toss the wipe into, you smiled as you watched your two boys as they waved to the Fire Trucks, the crew making sure to honk their horns when they saw Sy.

Everyone in town loved Sy. You’d moved there together when you’d found out you were pregnant with Mikey, your army days behind you and wanting to seek somewhere quiet where you could live in the woods to allow for full moon runs whilst being close enough to civilisation to raise a family. The aging receptionist at the realtor had pulled you aside the second you’d arrived in their office when you’d visited the town, recognising one of her own as her nostrils had flared and she’d explained that there were ‘all sorts’ in the town. That was your first meeting with Edith, and you’d gone on to move in just up the mountain from her. Once Sy had finished in the Army and baby number two was on the way, he’d started working alongside retired detective Walter at his construction company where they specialised in commercial buildings. They were always on call for when businesses had emergencies, so had come to the aid of half the town after storms and accidents.

As the parade dragged on Luna woke, grumbling for a change and a feed. The two boys were transfixed with the parade and you’d lost your ice cream cone to Sy who was now mindlessly munching away on it. Tugging on his sleeve you caught his attention;

“Luna’s woken up, i’m gonna take her into Sue’s Coffee Shop to change her and give her a feed”

“Sure thing Darlin, we’ll come find you in a bit”

-

The coffee shop was quiet, its doors opened onto the sidewalk and as the radio played soft rock music, just one or two tables taken outside but the inside empty. Sue - the owner - smiled at you as you walked in;

“Hey Sue!”

“Hey there! What can I get'cha?”

“Can i get a decaf iced latte? I just need to change Luna if that’s ok?”

“Of course, no need to ask, the restroom is empty”

A couple of minutes later your little girl had a clean butt but was still grizzling, now hungry for your milk. Sue had set your drink onto a table in the corner, a soft window seat she knew you liked to sit at to feed. Settling in you pulled your cami top down and unhooked the strap of your nursing bra, helping Luna to latch on as she cried before a blissful quiet descended over you as she happily suckled on your breast. In the quiet of the coffee shop you reached for your drink and sipped on it, smiling down at your beautiful daughter as she gazed up at you;

“Hey there my little Luna, better now? Is that the good stuff? Yeah? Well that’s what your Daddy says it is…” you said with a whisper and a smirk.

“Hey”

The sudden greeting made you jump, looking up to see Walter standing near your table;

“Oh, Hi Walter”

“Sorry…” he glanced away, averting his eyes from where you were feeding; “I just asked if you wanted anything?”

“Oh no, i’m fine, i’ve got a coffee… but you’re welcome to join me if you like? Sy and Mikey will be along once the Parade’s over”

Nodding once the quiet man went to order before returning with what looked like a quad espresso but faltering when it came to taking a seat;

“Where did you want me to sit?”

“Oh anywhere you like” you shifted Luna as she had finished on one breast, hooking that side up before shifting and moving her to the other breast. You’d mastered the art of switching breasts without revealing anything, the baby's head blocking any view of a nipple, and you were a vehement supporter of breast feeding - in fact any feeding - and had been known to get into loud shouting matches with anyone that told you to cover up something that was completely natural.

“I mean, i don’t want Sy to think i’m here oggling his wife’s tits”

Laughing, you kicked out a soft chair with your foot;

“This is fairly low, take this one and here…” you moved the upright menu on the table in front of Luna’s head, knowing that she would now be shielded from view and with your breast, and saving Walter’s embarrassment.

Just as Walter sat down Sue brough over his sandwich, the scent of it hitting your nostrils and making your stomach audibly growl;

“Oh wow, what is that?”

“A steak wrap with chimichurri sauce” he lifted one half and offered it to you, but you shook your head.

“Thanks, but that’s just a little too rare for me… looks like a good veterinarian could bring it back to life”

Walter laughed as you called out to Sue, ordering one of the same.

“You want yours still mooing too?”

“Medium, please” you laughed as she nodded and walked away.

As she cooked your meal you turned back to Walter. You’d had a few conversations with him over the 11 months he and Sy had worked together, but knew very little about him apart from his reputation of being quiet and surly, generally sleep deprived and a little pale most of the time. He’d been medically retired from the Police Department after an accident where he’d lost a lot of blood and had never fully recovered.

As Luna happily fed and Walter devoured his sandwich you sipped on your drink, watching with curiosity as the man ate in silence, savouring each bloody bite. When he finally crumpled the napkin onto the plate and sat back he caught you watching him;

“What? Do i have something on my face?”

“No” you laughed softly; “Just watching how quickly you devoured that sandwich. Rachel not feeding you at home?”

Walter’s face dropped;

“She left”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry Walter, i wouldn’t have said anything if i’d known”

“S’ok. She got fed up with the way i lived my life, but i can’t change who i am”

“True”

Just then Sy and Mikey came running into the coffee shop;

“Hi Darlin! Hi Sue! Hi Walt… be right back, Jnr has a bathroom emergency!”

The two Syverson boys disappeared into the restroom, and you could clearly hear Sy’s voice;

“Point! POINT IT AT THE TOILET! That’s it, stand on your tippy toes… there we go! Got here in time!”

You suppressed a laugh, Walter raising his eyebrows;

“Potty training?”

“Uh-huh… it's been a challenging few weeks to say the least, but Mikey wanted to give it a go”

The sound of the dryer could be heard as Sy and Mikey reappeared, Sy giving you double thumbs up from behind his son who ran to you;

“A perfect aim Darlin, no leaks. Think this deserves a cookie!”

As Mikey squealed with joy you groaned;

“Sy… not more sugar! He’ll be up all night. Mikey, honey, how about some fries?”

“And Eggies?” Mikey asked

“Sure thing honey, get Daddy to ask Sue”

As the afternoon wore on and the boys chatted, you listened as Sy and Walter discussed work stuff, Luna sleeping peacefully in your arms as you ate with Mikey. Finally glancing at your watch you motioned to Sy the time;

“Hun, i’ve gotta go collect our meat order from Walkers Meats”

“Oh yeah, sure. Here…” He opened his wallet and peeled off a bunch of $20’s as he turned to Walter; “She makes the best Steak Tartare… it's unbelievable”

“You make that?” Walter asked

Angling Luna into her carrier sling you adjusted the straps and nodded;

“Sure do! Hey, did you want to join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, join us!” Sy parroted; “And before you say anything, you wouldn’t be intruding”

With a weak smile Walter nodded;

“Sure, that’ll be nice. I gotta go to the lumber yard before though… pick out the stuff for next week's job”

You noticed that Mikey had finished his meal and was looking sleepy, holding your hand out to him he slid off the chair and stood next to you;

“How about I take the kids home, Sy you catch a ride with Walter?”

With everyone happy with the arrangements you made your way along main street to where Sy had parked his enormous truck, helping Mikey into his seat before unlatching Luna and settling her into her carrier. They were both fast asleep by the time you got to the drivers seat. 

You managed to park directly outside the door to Walkers Meats, and Freya the weekend girl helpfully brought everything out to you when you called inside that the kids were asleep in the car and you didn’t want to leave them.

-

Dinner had been fun. The two kids were peacefully sleeping as the three adults chatted after the meal, before you finally stood to load the dishwasher and start hand washing the items that couldn’t go in there. Just as you were about to start you heard a cry from the kids, Sy standing;

“It’s Mikey, i’ll go”

As you started to handwash the various knives and delicate glasses, Walter stood at your side to dry items, the two of you talking casually before you let out a cry and pulled your hand from the soapy bowl of water. The dark crimson of your blood flowed from your finger, the knife you’d forgotten you’d put in the sink the cause;

“Fuck… hand me a towel…” you asked Walter, but were surprised when he sucked in a sharp intake of breath and turned, hunching over. Clutching your hand to your chest, you were surprised by his reaction, before he suddenly turned and you let out a shriek.

Sy appeared at the doorway in a panic before rushing to you, wrapping a napkin around your hand before he finally turned to look at Walter;

“What the fuck…”

Walter was pale, paler than usual, but that wasn’t what shocked the pair of you. No, it was the fact his eyes were pure white except for dark pools for his pupils, and as he opened his mouth to speak you saw his fangs;

“It’s… it’s the blood…” he gasped out; “It drives me…”

Sy wrapped his arm around your shoulders, but looked at his friend as he slumped onto the floor, shaking and sobbing;

“Think we need a chat Walt”

-

The three of you sat around the kitchen table, a hefty glass of scotch in front of each of you as Walter spoke;

“So umm yeah… this is why i left the Department. Went into a supposedly abandoned building, but it wasn’t empty. Two what we thought were junkies in there, looked like they were frail and would snap in a keen wind, but they had this strength and speed… They overpowered me, latched onto my neck. Drained my blood, and when the last drop was about to pass their lips one of my officers finally found me and shot them. They bled into me. The EMT’s took me to New Mercy and gave me a massive blood transfusion, and treated me for severe anemia… well guess what, the fangs and fucked up eyes were a surprise a few weeks after i was discharged”

You sat wide eyed and mouth agape, not touching your drink;

“I have so many questions...”

“Okay”

“Garlic. Crosses. Being invited in. Sunlight…”

Walter chuckled;

“Most a load of complete bollocks. Garlic? Well you put some in your steak tartare didn’t you? In fact it helps with the anemia. Crosses? No issue. Being invited in, again that’s just rubbish. Sunlight however… why do you think i’m so pale, huh? Have to wear factor 50 all the damn time otherwise i end up looking like a Maine Lobster at a cookout”

Both you and Sy were transfixed, Walter chatting away but his eyes hadn’t returned to normal and his fangs occasionally caught on his lip as he spoke.

“What ‘bout blood then?” Sy asked

Walter cleared his throat;

“Well, i’ve been making do with cows blood since Rachel left”

“You used to suck her blood?” you asked in a high pitched voice

Again Walter cleared his throat, this time just the faintest hint of a blush crept over his cheeks above his beard;

“Err yeah, about once a month… but she had enough in the end and left”

“I got another question” Sy interjected; “Why are your fangs still out?”

Although he answered Sy, Walter looked directly at you;

“Because she’s bleeding”

You looked down at your hand, puzzled as the wound had now sealed, before it hit you;

“Oh… I should go and sort that out”

Sy caught up quickly, glancing at the back of your dress;

“You’re fine Darlin, Walt caught it in time”

When you returned to the kitchen the two men had knocked back their drinks, Sy pouring another hefty glass for the pair of them. Pouring your drink into Sy’s you smiled at him;

“Luna won’t appreciate it”

Making yourself a herb tea you sat down next to Sy, leaning on his shoulder as you sipped your tea. Walter cleared this throat;

“You two have taken this a lot better than i envisioned anyone would… better than Rachel did…”

You looked up at Sy and smiled, his own grin crossing over his face before he nodded and you both turned to Walter as Sy spoke;

“Oh… we have a bit of understanding of this kinda thing”

With the full moon starting tomorrow night you knew that you could both force your eyes to turn orange, the bright ring of fire in your irises flaming like a pyre, shocking Walter so much he slipped back on his chair and fell to the floor. Greeted by both of you giggling, he pulled himself back up using the table as he righted his chair, knocking back the rest of his glass;

“What… the… FUCK?”

[yuulina-vre]

Strawberries

Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter: three

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader, Uncle Steve, Aunt Wanda

Summary: Y/N loves her favorite treat.

Wordcount: 2185 words

Y/N might be small but she’s fast if she wants to be and she knows it. Especially if strawberries are around, she doesn’t want to do something relating to bath times and yucky food or her daddy doesn’t pay much attention. Right now, two of these factors are the case. Her little eyes caught the bowl of her red favorite treats in Wanda’s hands a few minutes ago. It’s now resting on the island in the kitchen area. She can see but not reach, which is mean. Daddy had said she can’t have any now since she just had lunch but that won’t stop her from trying. The only problem that she has to face is that daddy’s still holding her on his lap and he doesn’t look like he’s going to set her down anytime soon since he’s too distracted talking to uncle Stevie and auntie Wanda. Okay… maybe she has two problems. She knows she won’t really be able to reach the berries if she manages to escape daddy’s lap since they’re so high up but she had noticed the chair at the counter, so maybe she will be fine. Uncle Tony always uses a chair for things high up. She can do that too, right? If daddy just will let her down! She wriggles a little on his lap but he only tightens his hands on her and looks down with a light smile on his face. Before she knows what’s happening, she has his lips on her forehead. “All good, baby girl?” She stares up at him, a little startled. Suddenly daddy handles her in his hands, turning her a little so she’s almost lying against his chest, nestled in his arms. He presses more kisses to her cheeks and nose, tickling her with his beard. She immediately starts giggling and pushing at him. “Noo...” A gasp from Bucky lets her abruptly stop and stare in shock. He starts pouting. “No more kisses from daddy?” She frowns a little at his face. He does look sad… “Don’t you like daddy anymore?” His pout deepens. Steve snickers from the side though he stops as he notices a shift in her. “Sad?” Somehow, the fact that her daddy might be upset with her makes her sad, too. Her lower lip starts trembling and her eyes start to water, which seems to make everything worse because her daddy doesn’t only look sad but shocked too.

 “No! No, baby girl. It’s alright. I’m sorry. I made a joke.” He presses her tightly to his chest now, kissing her hair, and his hands run up and down on her back as she sniffles. She doesn’t really understand what’s happening. Daddy looked sad but now he’s saying he’s sorry. What’s wrong here? Her fists tighten in his shirt and she hides her face in his chest, strawberries forgotten for the moment as tears start falling. Is she bad to make daddy sad? “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His voice sounds sorry… maybe distressed. She sniffles a little longer, the confusion still mingling in her head, making her uncomfortable but she looks up at daddy. He still looks sad but he smiles now. Is he sad or not? Y/N feels a little overwhelmed and suddenly a little uncertain. So she looks around, searching for her best friend. She spots the blue bunny uncle Stevie got her at some point and stretches her hand out for it. Bucky quickly catches in and passes it to her. She wraps it in her tiny arms, instantly taking one of its ears, and rubs it gently against the tip of her nose. This usually calms her down pretty fast. “Oh, oh. You messed up big time Buck.” Steve pipes up, looking a little amused but concerned as well. Y/N quickly concentrates back on the stuffed toy. “I know.” Bucky whines, continuously rubbing his metal hand on the back of his girl. “Isn’t she only doing this when she’s uncomfortable or overwhelmed?” Wanda pipes up and ears a glare from Bucky that probably means nothing. Steve nods though. Y/N doesn’t really know what they’re saying but she calms down. She leans on Bucky’s shoulder and he presses his lips yet again against her cheek. “Better, baby?” She nodes and looks up at him. “I know you love me, sweetheart. It was a dumb joke. Daddy won’t say it again.” She nods again but this time her eyes catch the strawberries again. Might be the best chance she gets. She wriggles again, this time fully intending to get off daddy’s lap. “Hey, alright. Would you- Y/N! Stop struggling.” Bucky starts laughing and tickling her sides. She’s startled and screams which turns into a laugh. “I’m setting you down, okay? Just stop wriggling.” He smiles at her, presses another kiss to her forehead, and sets her down. He really likes kissing her forehead and Y/N loves when her daddy does it, though, it does tickle terribly. The moment her naked feet hit the carpet she runs off, not right into the kitchen but behind the couch, her daddy is on. He won’t pay much attention to her this way since he has to turn around. Though she sees him look at her and grin. She smiles back flops on her diapered but and starts playing with her bunny, only waiting for her daddy to lose interest.

Of course, Bucky knows instantly that she’s up to something. Y/N isn’t pretty good at hiding things. Even worse now that she does the same things every time. He knows that, as soon as she hides out of sight, that she has something on her mind she pretty well knows she’s not allowed. His little girl is just a year and then some but she’s damn smart. But he really wants to know what she’s up to so he pretends to turn back to Steve and Wanda, starting a half-hearted conversation once again, still paying attention to any naked feet on the cool floor around the carpet.

Y/N looks up again and sees daddy not looking. In a matter of seconds, she’s up, clutching her stuffed friend to her chest, and rushes off to the kitchen. The chair’s still standing there and Y/N is quick to throw her bunny on it before climbing up on it with only mild struggle. She has practiced climbing with uncle Tony recently. She has already managed to put her hands on the counter as she hears a startles shout. “Y/N! No, god! That’s dangerous.” She tries to ignore the shout, struggling to get her leg on the counter, and… yeah. The leg is up but now she’s stuck. She won’t get forth or back. But before she can start to struggle or cry in distress as her dawns that’s she doesn’t know how to proceed, two hands grab her under her arms. “My… You troublemaker.” The voice isn’t daddy’s since she can see daddy. He’s standing there, hand on his chest breathing fast with auntie Wanda beside him. She has a hand on his shoulder, looking at him in concern. Did daddy hurt something? He looks like her auntie when she falls and cries. “Y/N! You can’t climb on chairs and the counter. You could have fallen down and hurt yourself.” Her eyes instantly switch to the person holding her. Uncle Stevie looks mad but somehow not. He has her in a tight grip but it doesn’t hurt. Her eyes dart from him to her daddy and auntie and then to the counter. “Berry!” She points at it and back at stave. “Daddy no.”

“Yes. Daddy said no because you had lunch.” She pouts at Steve’s answer but hears a chuckle. “She’s quite fast and smart, huh?”

“Wanda!” Bucky looks at her with a stern expression but Wanda only laughs. Y/N continues pouting and starts trashing as soon as Steve gets away from the counter. “Nooo! Berry! Berry!” She quickly gets passed to Bucky who holds her just as tightly, not paying attention to her struggles. “No! There are no berries for naughty Y/N’s.”

“Berry.” Her eyes well up again and she reaches for the bowl that’s way out of her reach now. She sobs loudly but daddy doesn’t give up. He carries her away until Wanda sighs. “Buck. Give her a strawberry.”

“No, she just ate.”

“Come on. Just one. What’s the deal? It’s not like she’s getting sick from one and it’s been almost fifteen minutes since she ate. She will be fine and satisfied and we might not have to fear her climbing the counter for a while.” Y/N doesn’t really know what they are saying, only knowing that it has something to do with her favorite treat and that she’s currently getting farther away from it with every step her daddy takes. She cries louder, now seeing her stuffed friend still at the chair. This is just mean. Her daddy won’t give her any berries, she doesn’t have her blanket or pacifier and her best friend’s currently lying on that chair all alone. He probably is sad, too! “Berry! B-bunny!” She cries louder again not knowing which is worse. No berries or no bunny. “Fine. Fine! Oh my- Sweetheart, please. Stop crying. Daddy’s ears hurt. See, Stevie’s getting your bunny and Wanda will give you a strawberry. Okay?” She feels herself getting rocked and she hears daddy say something but words are hard to understand right now. She only knows her friend is sad. But suddenly the blue friend looks over daddy’s shoulder. “Hello Y/N. Please don’t cry. I’m fine and I’d like a hug. Can you hug me?” The head of her bunny tilts funnily and its arms stretch forward so Y/N forgets about crying and reach for it, pressing it tightly against her chest with only small sobs in between. “Ahhh… This is nice. Thank you”, the bunny says and goes still in her arms again. While she’s busy hugging her bunny, Steve breaths out in relief, glad he prevented further messy crying from his niece. Bucky sighs in relief as well, settling back on the couch with his girl on his lap now. He wipes some of the tears away and lifts her chin so the little girl has to look at him. “Y/N. no more climbing on counters, okay? It’s dangerous and pretty girls aren’t allowed to sit on them, remember?” Y/N frowns a little but nods. She remembers faintly that daddy said she can’t sit on the counter but uncle Sam and Tony always set her on them. It’s a bit confusing. She decides to listen to daddy for now. “Y/N, look what I got you. You up for one?” Her eyes look at Wanda and the… the strawberry. It’s the biggest one she has seen so far. It's almost the size of her hand. Her eyes go wide and her auntie laughs a little. Y/N almost reaches for it but then she remembers daddy’s words. ‘No berries for naughty Y/N’s.’ New tears form in her eyes and her animal gets lifted to her face to hide. She doesn’t see the adults frown and look at each other. “What did I do?” Wanda looks a little startled at the strawberry and then at Bucky. “Y/N, sweetie. It’s alright. You can have it.”

“N-no. Daddy no.” She sobs and leans against her daddy whose arms circle tighter around her, embracing her with comforting warmth. “Oh. Yeah, you’re right but you can have this one. You’re my good little girl again, right?” Y/N nods shakily. “G-good.”

“There we go. Now, do you want the strawberry auntie Wanda has for you?” She nods again but doesn’t look up so Bucky takes it from Wanda with a kind smile and holds it close to Y/N’s face. “There, sweetheart. A sweet treat for a sweet girl.” The thousands kiss gets pressed to her head and she shakily looks at her daddy before she gently takes the huge berry from him. Uncertain she looks at daddy and only starts nibbling on it after he nods encouragingly. It is sweet and proven once again that it's her favorite. She takes her time eating it, getting its juice all over her. But daddy only laughs and that’s fine. She figures if daddy laughs- he’s happy and if daddy’s happy then it means she’s a good girl. A good and tired girl. So as soon as the berry is gone, she reaches for her bunny but daddy quickly catches her hands. “Not yet, Y/N. let's clean your hands and face first so that Mr. Bunny doesn’t get all dirty, yeah?” Y/N really is too sleepy to complain, so she lets him wipe her face with the hated towel before her bunny gets passed to her. In a meter of moments, she finds herself nestled in the crook of her daddy’s arm, favorite blanket around her, pacifier in her mouth, and bunny on her chest. Bucky only needs to rock her a few times before she’s drifting off to a dream with gigantic strawberries and a big blue bunny hopping on grass fields with candy flowers.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: V

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

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

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

— Only Angel, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 34k 

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

///   

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

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

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

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

And much to his satisfaction, Harry gets just that. 

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

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

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

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

The jacuzzi sex sits at the top of that list. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I changed my mind.” 

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

“Idiot.”

“Try again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mortal swallows heavily, nodding her head a tad. 

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

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

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

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you want a repeat of that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, that’s so—so— fuck!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Say it.”

“I’m...I’m your filthy little slut.” 

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N rolls her eyes at his juvenile answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘What if’ what?”

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

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

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

“How do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you really not going, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry—”

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

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

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

“Get up. Now.” 

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

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

She obeys. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it, though, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

Harry drinks from Y/N that night. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.” 

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

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

“Karma’s a bitch, Winnie the Pooh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t help next time.” 

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

“You’re a literal child.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dickhead.”

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

“Go back to keeping your mouth shut.” 

“Mm. S’what I thought.” 

Harry keeps his sensual promise, as he always does. 

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

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

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

“Arms behind your back.” 

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

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

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

“‘Yes’ what?”

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

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

“Only for you.”  

“No one else?”

“No one else.”

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

“Go deeper. Want it all.” 

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

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

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

“Mmhm.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Always.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s working his praise kink like a charm.

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

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

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

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

Harry loses it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No I don’t!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was your favorite part?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Asshole.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My pleasure. See you later, Holmes.” 

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

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

///

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

He should have gone on the trip. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is bad. This is really bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words sting for some unknown reason. 

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

“Alright.” 

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

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

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

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

“Because Fridays are our days.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right. Super classy.” 

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

“Fuck off.” 

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

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

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

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep going.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry is the first to break the tranquil atmosphere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I could have.”

“But you didn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“I refuse to take down Stevie!”

“And I refuse to take down Amanda!”

“You named it?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But could it really be worth the potential grievance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It would be my pleasure.” 

[hello-everyfandom]

“You are the one person I care for, who I love.”

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Remus x Reader

Words: 1.9K

Summary: Your love language is Acts of Service 

(This is apart of my series “Love Languages”)

You weren’t dumb. Although you seemed to be quite oblivious to the classes such as muggle studies and divination, you weren’t dumb. In fact, you were smart. Smart enough to realize what Remus was. Besides being the sweetest, kindest and funniest boy, he was a werewolf. You noticed, even in First year, Remus’ frequent disappearance from classes every month. At first, you believed his excuse of visiting his sick mother and barely regarded his scars. You were happy enough to have a friend who just enjoyed sitting and talking. 

Truthfully, you didn’t mind the fact that the boy you were in love with was a werewolf. Who cares? He was more than his “monthly condition,” and though you’d never admit it to his face, it was your sole duty to ensure he felt comfortable and loved.

When the bags under his eyes became more prominent, and his flinches were more frequent, you knew that time was ticking down towards a full moon. Days leading up to it, you’d pour him a cup of coffee in the morning and butter his toast before he’d arrived. The first time you did it, Remus looked at you warily, however, the smile you gave made his worries disappear. You took note of the way Remus enjoyed his coffee. On regular days, Remus had his coffee plain and dark, but on the days before his transformation, he wanted it sweeter. You made sure to include some milk and a dash of cinnamon as you saw how he sipped slowly, eyes closed, enjoying the taste. Then, when he disappeared for a few days, you took vigorous notes in classes. You, truly, were not the type of student to find notes helpful and much-preferred listening and watching, however, Remus needed the notes to study over. 

Your hands would be stained with ink by the end of the few days and by the time Remus resurfaced with tired eyes, you would hand him the in-depth detailed notes.

“Thought I’d write you some of the things we did in class,” you said, placing them next to his plate. 

“I hope I got it all down, but if you have any questions you can ask.”

Remus looked over the notes at your splotchy and messy handwriting and felt a calming sense wash over him. You had included some of your own thoughts in the margins and doodles that showed that as much as you were bored, you were focused.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Remus put his hand on top of yours, making you blush red.

“Oh please, those notes are nothing to write home about.” you pointed to a splotch of ink, “see there? I accidentally fell asleep and the quill was pressed on the parchment.”

Remus laughed despite the ache in his ribs. “I love them nonetheless.” 

As you sat in the library, your hand in his, Remus squinted at the pages. He let out a huff of frustrated breath and put a hand on his forehead. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, putting a hand on his forearm,

“I can’t seem to focus on the bloody words,” he moaned, wiping his cheeks with his palm.

You bit the inside of your cheek and studied the way his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Come with me,” you stood and held your hand out for him. He looked at you and then at your reaching hand and took it as softly as he could. He nearly gasped as you began to pull him through the library and out into the corridor. Your pace was fast and he could barely keep up, but every few steps you’d turn back to look at him with a grin on your cheeks. 

Finally, you had pulled him up the hill that faced the Black Lake, just south of the castle. You paused, holding out a finger to him, and pulled out a blanket from your school bag. Taking off your shoes, you sat and patted on your lap.

Confusedly he asked, “What’s going on-”

“Darling, stop being a worry-wart and come sit with me,” you teased.

Remus complied and nestled his head in your warm lap, feeling the comfort from the skin of your bare thighs. “Shouldn’t we study?”

“Who said we weren’t going to study?” you pulled out your textbook, despite it being heavy you held it with one hand. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed, pulling out a small bar of chocolate. “Had this in ‘m bag, though you’d want a bit.” 

Remus hesitated, “Well I-”

“Remus, take the chocolate.” you said sternly, “you’ve a headache and sugar helps with headaches.”

He took the chocolate and popped a square in his mouth.

“Now, where had we left off?” you asked, turning the pages swiftly.

“Chapter, well I think it was... chapter... four?” Remus mumbled, his tongue tasting the bittersweetness of his favorite chocolate.

“Right! Exactly, alright,” you cleared your throat and began to read out loud.

Remus listened for a few moments, basking in your melodic voice. 

“Y/N, you really don’t need to read out loud, I’m sure I can catch up-”

You interrupted him, “Do you think this is for you?” you smiled at him, “No no, I need to read with my heart in my voice so I can fully understand, you, my dear, must listen as I stutter through the words.”

Remus chuckled and you felt the vibrations on your skin. “Alright,” he put his hands up in surrender, “read away, honey.” 

The afternoon was spent with you stuttering through difficult words and Remus correcting your pronunciation. Remus knew, though, that you were not doing this just for yourself, but for him as well. A sense of loving and compassion swelled from your chest and Remus could feel himself falling, faster than ever, for the sweet acts you gave and the kindness of your heart. 

A few days after the full moon, you anxiously searched for your love in the corridors, in classes, and in the Great Hall. When you could not find him, worry hit you like lightning bolts down your spine. You waited another day before seeking out one of his mates.

“Sirius,” you yelled through the halls, making him stop. His black hair was pulled back and he too had bags under his eyes. His sleeves were rolled up so you could see some of the scratching and bruising. Looking from his arm to his eyes, you struggled to find the words. If Sirius was like this, Remus must feel even worse. 

“Y/N,” he said cooly, “to what do I owe the lovely pleasure of being in your presence.”

“Where is Remus?” you asked instantly, making his charming grin drop. “His mother was sick and-”

“Please, Sirius, please just tell me,” you begged. Sirius scanned your worried and helpless eyes and sighed. Remus would kill him for this, but he could not ignore your frantic and anxious demeanor.  

“He’s in the dorm, but-” before you could turn to race down the corridor, Sirius caught your elbow, “He’s not doing well, Y/N. Be aware, he may be more sensitive than usual.” 

You nodded stiffly and made your way to the common room. 

The stairs up to the boy’s dormitory seemed to elongate with every step. You felt panicked and uneasy as you huffed and tried to catch your breath. Pausing before their door, you focused and tried to hear if there was any movement. You had been to his dorm before, but this time you were anxious to see Remus. 

As you knocked on the door, softly and then one harder, your breath became shaky when you heard a weak, “Come in.”

Turning the doorknob, you peered into the room and slowly drifted in. You couldn’t see as well, but the candlelit next to Remus’ bed served as a lighthouse that guided your way.

“Hey,” you said, voice soft and tender. Reaching Remus’ bed, your eyes caught one another and Remus felt nothing but dread in the pit of his stomach. 

“Y/N,” he stuttered, covering his face with his comforter, “You shouldn’t come any closer, I must have gotten what my mother had, please go back to class.” he begged, feeling desperate.You sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed, shifting your weight. 

“My love,” you whispered, attempting to pull the covers from his face, “please do not hide,”

Remus shook his head, “Y/N, go back to class, I’m begging you.”

“You know I won’t leave,” you insisted. Remus could feel the warmth from your touch, even under the blanket. An internal war played out in his head, fearing what would happen if you saw him like this. 

“Please,” you whispered again. The love of your life whimpered, but allowed his heart, his soul, you to pull the covers back.You couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of your beloved. His face was scratched and red, his lip was busted and you could see a cut beginning to heal on the tip of his left eyebrow. Remus winced at your gasp. 

“Got in a fight, must have-”

You shook your head, “Remus,” your hand reached out, as slow as you could manage and while Remus flinched away at first, he let himself rest his cheek in the palm of your hand. Rubbing gentle strokes on his cheek, you gazed at him with love and affection.

“Y/N, I-” Remus dropped his eyes, “I need to tell you something.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything, my love, I already know.”

Remus thought you’d run away, terrified and screaming. The thought made him sick inside but instead, you sat there, holding his face with your hands, whispering sweet words. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” you said under your breath. 

Pulling out a few plasters, you worked as tender as you could, cleaning his wounds and placing bandages on his cuts.

“Aren’t you scared?” Remus asked timidly, his voice portrayed a lost and helpless boy.

“No,” you shook your head, “I could never be scared of you.”

You scanned him over, looking for any other wounds before asking, “Can you walk?” He nodded and began to sit up, his body betrayed him as he groaned and held onto his aching side. Immediately, you put his arm over your shoulder and helped me walk to the bathroom. 

As you ran a bath, you helped Remus take off his clothing, leaving him in his boxers. “Come, sit,” you motioned to the tub filled with warm water and bubbles. 

Again, Remus complied and lowered himself into the bath. There, you motioned for Remus to lean his head back and you began to wash his dirty hair. The feeling of your fingertips moving and brushing through his hair made Remus whimper, cowering into your touch.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you said again, “you are the one person I care for, who I love.”

Remus held your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, “I love you too. More than anything.”

Helping Remus back into a set of pajama bottoms and back into bed, Remus whimpered again, worried you would leave.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, taking off your sweater and your skirt. Getting under the covers, Remus tucked himself into your side, smelling the perfume from the crook of your neck and sighed in content. 

“Will you stay?” Remus asked,

“Of course.” You answered, honestly. Running your fingers through Remus’ tangled hair, he began to drift away in the loving of your touch.