#Specifically spinning it around in butterfly circles to throw up and catch it

[rhaenys-queenofkhyrulzz]

Sup moots it's ya girl rhae coming to you live from her home 2 days after brutally stabbing herself in the eye with a wooden staff

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

Baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just naked

So take what I’m willing to give, love it or hate it.”

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

A/N: alright SO!!!! the original part 3 ended up being at the cusp of 50k words (because i have no self control) and that is a LOT to read in one go so it’s getting split into parts 3 and 4! which means!! double update laidese and germs!!!! part 4 will be posted this SUNDAY, AUGUST 16th at 5PM PST/8PM EST :D we hope you enjoy this chapter, feedback is greatly appreciated, and please please PLEASE!!! if you like it, reblog it!!! and if you want, go nuts in the tags!! every single one is read!!! it keeps content creators motivated 💌leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ took the liberty of making an incredible playlist to go along with our story, so feel free to check it out and see if you can find any clues as to what’s in store for the characters 👀without further delay, here she is...buckle up 👁👁this is gonna be quite the ride

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

word count: 24.2k

content/warnings: cheeky banter over texts, The Crew dragging Niall to shit, more banter over a glass of cheap wine, vampire!harry showing up to “interior design” sessions looking like a runway model, some fwb smut, degradation kink, very mild mentions of blood, and some ugly tapestries that somehow lead to sexting

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Y/N definitely puts Harry’s number to good use. Very good use.

In fact, during the span of the next month or so, Harry reckons that she pulls up his contact on her phone so often that she probably has him listed on speed dial. The assumption is dramatic and probably incorrect, on behalf of his arrogance, but with how much time they start spending together, it’s hardly a stretch.  

It all begins exactly a week after their first time meeting. 

Harry still hates clubs. 

He hates them more than he did last week. He hates them more than he did yesterday, more than he did this morning, and even more than he did a minute ago. He fucking despises them. 

And yet, as Harry stands here before the mirror in his enormous double-sink bathroom, fiddling with his damp hair as his flouncy dress shirt hangs unbuttoned from his broad shoulders, he’s absolutely positive he has never hated clubs more than right now. 

Niall got to pick the venue this time. He’d texted his choice in the groupchat (which is respectfully named Dinner Plans) about four hours ago, making sure to get the word out decently early so that everyone could start making their preparations, all in order for the crew to be on the move by nine P.M. 

It’s now nine thirty-seven, and everyone is fully set to leave at the agreed upon hour. Everyone except Harry. 

This, however, is not uncommon. He’s always the one that takes the longest to get ready, no matter how soon he starts. No one can remember an instance where Harry has ever been ready on time— which says a lot, considering most of the gang has years of memories from which they can pull. Mitch especially. With almost a century of friendship behind them, not once has the older vampire ever seen Harry stick to a deadline. His flare for being fashionably late is less a flare, and moreso an irritating burn. It always throws off their game a bit, but at this point, everyone has gotten used to the seemingly young vampire’s theatrics. 

So on this Friday night, there isn’t much more to do other than mold to his habits; Harry answers to no one except himself and it’s been that way for decades now, for a reason he’d rather not reminisce. He doesn’t owe anything to anyone, especially since he’s the one that always takes charge of getting them where they need to go, as well as getting them inside said destination. Complaining about their leader wouldn’t do the gang any good for a number of reasons, especially because Harry rarely ever listens. It is what it is— he’s just the way he is, and they’ve all learned to live with and respect that.

The funny thing? Harry does it on purpose, though his friends aren’t aware of it. He drags out the process of getting prepared simply so he can put off having to step inside one of those circus acts people refer to as clubs. He goes as slow as possible and does as much as possible, spreading seconds into minutes, and maybe— if he’s insistent enough and feeling particularly pesky— an hour. His record is an hour and twenty-eight minutes, which he wears with pride, much to his group’s unamusement. 

Harry knows no one will ever say anything about his annoying tendencies, unless they’re willing to volunteer themselves to take the reins for the night. Vampires are alert and productive, but only when they want to be— which is usually only when it benefits them— and only if they can muster up the patience for it. And frankly, none of the creatures he associates with have the patience required to deal with security, driving, and other obstacles the way Harry does. He’s indispensable, and therefore, everyone puts up with his shit. Quid pro quo has never been more effective. 

So here Harry stands, now thirty-eight minutes past the original time sorted for departure, carefully combing volumizing mousse into his slightly wet curls and spinning each ringlet around his index finger to give them the definition and bounce he’s so well-known for. Here he is, finishing up his post-shower routine as all of his friends mill around downstairs in his living room, waiting for him to come down so they can pack into his car and head out for the weekly hunt at whatever establishment has been deemed fit for the night. And here he is, taking his sweet time so he can be the signature pain in the ass that everyone hates to love. 

Once Harry has thoroughly coated all of his hair with the fluffy white cream, he pulls out his hair-dryer from the cabinet below his sink, snapping its accompanying diffuser into place and flipping his head upside down. He carefully scrunches his curls to his roots with the attachment, moving in thoughtful circles as he hums to the rhythm of a song he can’t be bothered to remember the name of. Staring down at his polished jet black heeled boots, he absentmindedly taps against the porcelain ground to the beat of the music, sighing wistfully as warm air circulates its way across his scalp. 

Harry turns his shoes to the side, admiring the detailing along the back of the heel. Across the curved surface is the word SUCKER, bedazzled onto the article with multicolored jewels, glitzing beautifully under the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom. The shoes had been a gift from a friend with connections in high places; more specifically, connections to the man who sits on the throne of the Gucci brand. Harry hadn’t questioned the present when he’d received it— only an idiot would bat a cautious eye at such a luxury. He’d fallen in love with them the second they landed in his palms, decked out in a gorgeous satin box and wrapped with sparkly black tissue paper. The only words that had dared leave his lips were, “Fuck, I think I just got hard.”

The shoes had fit like a charm, and he had wanted to save them for a special occasion. But given that he has hundreds of years worth of special occasions lined up for his future, he’d shrugged off his pickiness and yanked them out the back of his closet for tonight. What better way to show them off than at an overhyped disco hall? 

Harry flips his head right-side up once again, ruffling his fingers through his soft, shiny curls to check for any wet patches or stringiness. He rolls up the wire to his styling tool and puts it back in its designated spot, grabbing his favorite paddle brush and attentively filtering it through his hair until he gets the tousled waves that he’s grown so fond of sporting. He musses them until he’s satisfied with his appearance, nodding at himself casually in the mirror as he proceeds to wrap up the last few necessities he has left. 

Harry buttons his blouse, admiring it in the fogged mirror. It’s a flowy sheer black piece with holographic threads sewn through its expanse, the fabric continuously shimmering with every shift of his muscles from underneath. He leaves the last three holes empty to better show off the dark butterfly inking on his lean chest and the swallows suspended in flight along his collarbones. He doesn’t really have to leave the shirt open, given that the material is see-through to the point where it leaves very little to the imagination, obvious in how all the tattoos along his arms are clearly visible. But he does it either way— he likes it when people stare. He’s got the assets, he might as well flaunt them.

Harry loosely tucks the hem of the shirt along the brim of his high-waisted beige slacks, which he’d ironed with precision to an ideal fold. He opts out of a belt tonight, wanting to display the array of elegant buttons that line the front of his pleated trousers. The pants hang slightly flared around his ankles, and if someone’s interests were intent enough, they might catch a glimpse of his favorite socks underneath the cusps, the words FUCK IT printed across the dark cotton fabric. He always makes sure to have an aspect in his outfit that could make for neat conversation.  

The vampire pulls out one of his drawers, ghosting his fingers over his collection of jewelry before picking out a pearl necklace and his father’s gold-plated cross necklace, as well as a colorful array of rings. He makes sure to retrieve the most significant two, as always— his lionhead amethyst daylight ring and his mother’s opal. He never goes anywhere without them. 

After he’s slipped on those accessories, bending and stretching his fingers for good measure and feeling everything settle into place, he picks out the gold cross earring that matches his necklace. It used to be part of a pair that belonged to his sister. As he watches the gold twinkle in the artificial light, he briefly wonders what happened to its twin, but pushes the thought away before it leads him down a path of pessimistic speculations. 

Harry loops the dangly piece through his earlobe, sighing through his nose as his gaze jets around his entire look, searching for any possible faults he could tend to that would prolong the inevitable— another night of drunken morons and thick synthetic smoke. 

Harry decides to fold the cuffs of his shirt up to his elbows, knowing that it makes his veiny forearms look appealing. He rummages through his selection of colognes before deciding to go with his trusty Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, spritzing a bit along specific pressure points on his neck where a pulse would otherwise be present, following along with the insides of his wrists. The scent of cloves, sugar-frosted vanilla, and cedar wood envelope him in a warm ambiance. After that task is complete, he fusses with his necklaces for a minute or so, settling the cross between his pectorals and resting the rosey pearls across his clavicle, fingering at their smooth surface in thought. Much to his defeat, everything seems to be in order, down to his freshly lacquered black nails. It’s not his fault he’s nearly flawless. His long— and unfortunate— extension on life had given him a plethora of years to work himself into a state of physical perfection. There’s only so much one can do to their appearance before it becomes superiorly stagnant. 

Harry tunes his heightened hearing for a second, listening in to the conversation his friends are entertaining on the first level of his condo. Niall’s voice is the first one that comes through, unsurprisingly. He’s always the loudest and has zero filter, present in how he’s freely ranting about Harry’s exaggerated mannerisms as he paces back and forth across the floor, footsteps heavy. No one seems to be paying him any mind— As usual, Harry thinks to himself, snorting softly— because everyone appears to be caught up in their own personal lives, too lost in gossip and exchanging opinions to give the Irish vampire any thought. 

None of his gang seem bothered by his lack of rush, but Harry knows he can’t keep them waiting forever. Fridays are the day they’d all collectively agreed to hunt together and it had been as so for almost twenty years. Being the leader, Harry can’t let his childish distaste for nightlife get in the way of what’s best for the group. He needs to hunker down on his selfish inclinations and be a responsible friend, or else a human might not be the only person Niall sinks his fangs into tonight.

With one final lingering stare at his reflection, Harry goes to retrieve his phone from its face-down position on the dark marble counter, simultaneously reaching for the light switch to begin powering down his apartment for the next couple of hours until he returns. Hopefully with a pretty girl hanging off his arm and less of a burn in the back of his throat. Although Harry may be cynical, he’s also practical; if he’s going to have to spend eternity on this planet, he may as well try to conserve enough energy to make it bearable. After decades of adjusting to electricity, the last thing Harry wants is to return to candlelit rooms and going to bed in time with the sun. 

The sudden chime that shrieks from his device causes him to jump a tad, brows furrowing in mild confusion for a few reasons. First, because it’s such an odd coincidence that right as he went to grasp it, his smartphone had gone off; it’s almost spooky. Second, because anyone who would normally dare message him at this hour is currently sequestered downstairs on the cushions of his sectional sofa, waiting for him to emerge from his room. Who else could possibly need to contact him this late, especially at the beginning of the weekend? 

Harry flips his red iPhone curiously (yes, he’d bought it in red for the purpose of irony), peering down at the unknown number shining back up at him from the screen. 

The text is simple enough: Hey, accompanied by three disco ball emojis. 

After a few seconds of blank blinking and adamantly searching through his mind for a clue as to who this could be, the answer smacks him square between the eyes. The memories come to him in quick flashes. 

A bald bouncer with a stupid name. A two-story room with seven foot tall speakers and a bar nuzzled in the corner. A group of loud, tipsy girls in stilettos and glittery dresses. One girl, sitting amidst the ruckus looking alone and indifferent while everyone around her gave into inebriated chaos. Mitch urging him to go talk to her. The overwhelming smell of honey and lavender. Gentle caresses placed across the tattoos painting his arms. Pretty lips the color of fresh blood, drained glasses of liquor, and witty banter exchanged between suggestive glances and cheeky grins. Shouldering through a crowded dance floor with the young woman in tow. Settling her into the passenger’s seat of his Cadillac and feeling heat explode across his cold cheeks when she’d yanked him down by his collar, kissing him like his lips were her only source of air. 

A quaint apartment complex, flickering lights in a corridor, and a worn couch. A warm mouth, smudged lipstick, teary eyes, and the gentle, shaky echo of, “I want to make you feel good.” High-waisted silk pants discarded on the floor, a cream lace blouse, and pastel pink lingerie. Thighs squeezing his head as her sweet taste spilled across his tongue. The mortal’s bare back pressed to his chest as he worked his hips roughly into her, mumbling dirty promises against her ear. Sugary whimpers and needy pleads. The warm, tangy flavor of her blood filling his mouth and sedating the burning in his throat. Childish giggles shared in a tiny flat, her warm fingers sewing between his icy own and tugging him into her room. A sleepless night full of steady breaths and only one heartbeat. A stupid tapestry and an ugly popcorn ceiling. A late morning strewn with sarcastic jokes mumbled over the rim of a coffee mug. Pulling his favorite t-shirt over his head and inhaling the sweet smell that had been glued to every thread. 

Making a drastic decision and typing his information into her phone. 

Harry doesn’t mean to speak aloud, but the name slips down his tongue as easily as he’d drawn moans from hers. “Y/N.”

It’s not like he didn’t remember her, because he did. And it’s not like he hadn’t thought of her since, because he had. But it’d been in passing and barely relevant— faint recollections in the form of fleeting seconds. 

He’d thought of her a couple days ago, when he’d been wandering around the mall with his friends. They’d passed by a candle shop where, among all the mixed scents, there had been the unmistakable aroma of lavender and honey somewhere inside, smelling vaguely like her. She’d unwillingly made her way to the forefront of his mind when he’d gone to do laundry, picking out his baby blue Marc Jacobs t-shirt from his hamper and feeling his eyes dilate and fangs protrude— a result of animalistic instinct. As it turns out, she had left a bloodstain along the inside of the yellow collar of his tee. It was dried and crusted over by the time he found it, but the effect it had on him remained the same as the night he’d drawn it fresh from one of her arteries. He’d chucked the garment into the wash carelessly with hardly any hesitation. 

The girl had even elbowed into his brain during an important self-care session. He’d been sitting in his glorified bathtub— which, in shallow honesty, is just a jacuzzi— with his cock twitching in his palm while his head hung over the edge, an orgasm teetering along the trench of his stomach as he’d repeatedly thumbed over his tip. When he’d finally coaxed himself into a climax, moans running freely across the empty halls of his home, the image he saw in those short moments of pure bliss was of her. It was Y/N, sitting in front of him with her hands clasped between her bare thighs obediently, his prick running along the length of her warm tongue as her eyes pleaded for him to cum. 

But, as he’d stated before, the picture had only lasted a handful of seconds. As soon as his high had died down, it had disintegrated to ash, and he’d been left with a slightly startled mental imprint in its wake, which had faded away within minutes. He hadn’t thought of her since. 

That is, until now. Until the surface of his jade eyes are reflecting the message his phone had just received at nearly ten P.M., her identity obvious in her choice of emojis. 

A disco ball. The exact same character he’d assigned himself beside his name in her contact list. It was an inside joke; a result of the hatred they both shared for clubs, juxtaposed by the fact that they had met in one. It was a cute determining factor in their minimal acquaintanceship, and he’s always a sucker for a good paradox. 

Harry continues to stare down at the text message, trying to conjure up some type of answer. She couldn’t have caught him at a better time, quite literally. She could be his saving grace tonight, if he plays his cards right. Maybe if he swoons her enough, she’ll invite him over again, and he can avoid another night full of shit-faced idiots and blinding strobe lights. 

After careful consideration, he swipes open into their new text conversation and taps back a reply he deems appropriate, satisfied with how it shows his personality— the same one the mortal girl had been so taken with upon their first encounter. 

Well, this is awkward. I don’t remember giving my number to a disco ball.

The vampire waits idly for a response, watching as the message delivers and is immediately marked by a read receipt. He doesn’t know why, but he likes that she has them on. 

A swift pause follows— in which he has no doubt she’s probably attempting to come up with some type of witty remark to his— and then the three grey bouncing bubbles pop up, signifying that she’s typing back. His device bloops with her response, vibrating in his large palms.

Funny as ever, I see. It’s Y/N, from the club last Friday. 

Harry’s slightly disappointed by her humor-lacking answer, but he’ll keep the interaction going for curiosity’s sake. Some people are fun in person and just not that bright virtually. Can’t always have it all.

Oh, hey, Y/N! So are you translating on behalf of the disco ball that wanted to talk to me or…?

He can practically see her eye rolling up at the grungy ceiling of her room and that notion makes his lips twitch. 

Ha. Ha. Hilarious! But no, I’M the one who wants to talk to you, actually.

Harry can feel her sarcastic tone through this specific message and that gives him hope. Maybe she does have social networking skills. 

Oh. Well, give the disco ball my best regards then, will you? Don’t want it to think I’m being rude and casting it aside.

The creature can’t see it, but now Y/N’s lips are the ones jolting as she sits on her bed in nothing but a towel, damp hair beading water down her naked shoulders and back.

How caring of you! I’ll pass on the message.

A full grin begins to edge across Harry’s cheeks as she returns his banter just as easily as she would face to face, dimples threatening to indent into place. That’s more like it. 

His fingers poise over the keyboard, mind flicking through the different scenarios he could steer this conversation towards. He has to be perceptive and respectful, but also keep her entertained. He figures asking about her intentions is the best route to take, but he’ll do it subtly. Being too direct could come off pushy. 

So...what gives me the honor of basking in your presence tonight, hm?

He adds a thinking face emoji to the end of the text as an afterthought. He rarely uses emoticons, but now is as good a time as any to start, especially because he has to seem like someone who belongs to her generation, rather than a Victorian era immortal.

Well, you said if I wanted more interior design advice to shoot you a text so...here I am, seeking your expertise.

Harry allows himself to break into a wide simper at the shrouded compliment. It goes right to his ego, just as he likes it. She’s smart. 

My expertise, huh? I take it that my taste in wallpaper left you pretty satisfied last time, then?

A similar grin buckles Y/N’s face at his playful smugness and she bites into the side of her index finger to try and suppress it. After a moment of thought, she releases her digit from between her teeth and taps back. 

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

Harry scoffs coyly, leaning his shoulder against the lightly fogged black marble wall of his bathroom, his friends and plans for the night all but forgotten. He’s having too much fun flirting to pay anything else much mind. 

My pleasure, love. I’d be more than happy to give it again, anytime you need it. Just make sure to fill out the customer service survey my boss emailed you. I’m shooting for a raise and could really use the brownie points. 

“Cute.” Y/N murmurs to herself in amusement, her chest fluttering as a result of the pet name, alongside how well they’re getting on. It’s almost like no time has passed at all. Almost as if they’re friends. 

She’d been nervous to reach out, fearing that he’d see it and ignore her— or worse, leave her on read. Needless to say, this is going way better than she could’ve hoped

Already filled that out. Gave you five stars and everything. Would’ve given you six if it was allowed. 

Harry shifts his weight against the surface he’s using for support, chuckling softly as he gnaws along the inside of his cheek. He feels like a teenager with all of this borderline childish back-and-forth. He’s not mad about it, though. It’s pretty enjoyable. 

Thank you so much for your input! It’s taken into deep consideration. VERY deep consideration, if I recall correctly.  

Warmth pours into Y/N’s cheeks at his innuendo, and she somewhat hates that he can get her all flustered without actually being present. He’s really good at this. A true lucky strike, to put it in his own words.

I’m glad my standards are held so highly, especially since I’m trying to book another advising appointment with you. 

Is that so?

Very much so. How about tonight, if you’re free? I’ve got a dire situation with some wood paneling that I just can’t handle alone.

The vampire’s irises flare crimson red in triumph. It looks like he won't have to put himself through another mortifying ordeal tonight, after all. 

I’m on a tight schedule, Y/N. These expertise are highly sought after, yanno?

Y/N snorts at his pompous joke. “Moron.”

Another text comes in from Harry before she can even think of a response.

However, I think I might be able to squeeze you in for a help session today. Say in about 10 to 15 minutes? 

With newly brightened eyes, Y/N gives the message five repasses to make sure she’d interpreted it correctly. She can’t believe he’d agreed, especially at an hour when most people already have weekend plans cemented for the night. And by the length of time he’d given her to prepare, she’s extremely thankful she’d decided to shower prior to attempting a booty-call. 

Sounds perfect. Do you need me to send you my address or do you remember, by some miracle?

Don’t worry about it, pet. I have a pretty good memory of that night. You made it hard to forget. 

Another layer of heat crawls up her neck and into her ears. She knows this is a casual thing, at best, but for some reason, the idea that he had deemed her unforgettable makes her entire body feel like it’s glowing. She tries to brush it off, chalking up his compliment to how they’d seen each other barely a week ago so of course he remembered. It was fairly fresh in both their minds. 

But Y/N is from an area where she was just another face in the crowd— another timid girl in an ocean of a hundred small-town carbon copies— and she’d certainly never referred to herself as anything particularly special. To have Harry, who is such a refined and attractive person, who most likely has dozens of hook-ups under his belt, call her that? Of all people? It just hits differently. 

She shakes herself out of her head, remembering that a very interesting boy is waiting for a response on the other end of her phone.

Alright, then. See you in 10 to 15 minutes, Mr…? 

Y/N comes to the realization that she doesn’t even know his last name. She doesn’t know the last name of the guy she’d let into her house and between her legs. God, if her parents could see her now...They’d blow California into a crater. 

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles. 

She immediately recognizes the reference, chewing at her bottom lip to keep a tab on a girly giggle. It’s probably not healthy how easily he reduces her into such a dopey puddle. 

Alright, then, Mr. Harry Styles. See you soon?

Very soon. Can’t wait to show you the wood samples I just found.

With a sly smirk dimpling his cheeks, Harry pushes off the elegant stone wall of his luxury bathroom, locking his device and absentmindedly tapping it along his palm as he does a quick mind-sweep of the interaction he’d just had. He’s going to get his needs taken care of—both intimate and carnal— by a girl with whom he meshes with so well, no less. This night has taken an unexpected turn for the better, and he’s never been more thankful for making such a rash decision the morning after a one night stand. 

The shrill boom of an Irish accent breaks Harry out of his flirty stupor, the sound bounding up the stairs of his flat and echoing off the tiles in his bathroom. “Harry, did you fucking desicate up there, you prick?!”

The vampire’s head snaps to the side towards where the sudden intrusion is originating, clearing his throat softly before answering, mostly to anchor himself back into the present. He’d been too busy floating in a daydream bubble to give his friends any proper attention. “I’m on my way down!”

Harry flicks off the light switch to his master bathroom, heading into his dimly lit bedroom and scooping up his wallet from its usual spot on top of the dresser. He tucks it into the wide front pocket of his slacks along with his cell phone, rounding the king-sized mattress at the center of his space, footsteps muffled by the thick maroon carpeting across the ground. He stops under the doorframe, giving his room one last calculating glance to make sure he isn’t leaving anything important behind. Once the creature is sure he’s set, he reaches over and slides the switch meter all the way down until the hanging lamps on the ceiling fade to black. 

Harry clambers down the glass and metal staircase, passing the collection of original paintings organized across the expanse of the largest wall in his home. His friends spot him from the huge couch once he’s halfway down the steps, and of course Niall is the first to make his presence audible.

“Fucking finally.” The blue-eyed vampire groans in exasperation, shooting up from his seat beside Xander, arms falling across his lean chest. “I thought you’d died. Really died.”

Harry dismounts the last stair carefully, heeled boots making a soft clicking sound against the polished light-wash wood of his floorboards. He pushes a few rogue curls out of his eyes, the corners of his mouth jilting upwards teasingly as he regards the fellow immortal. “If I have to keep staring at that shitty paisley button-up you’re wearing, I just might.”  

Niall’s irritated expression shatters into one of sheer hurt, hands fumbling with the silk fabric of his shirt, lips melting into a pained pout as he contemplates it sadly. His tone comes out whiney and defensive. “Hey! I really like this one!”

Harry side-steps the boy, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Your fashion sense makes me question my friendship with you.”

Niall’s face pinches with anger, thick brows furrowing as he roughly swats the brunette’s wrist away. “And your dickhead attitude makes me question mine.” 

Harry’s jade eyes dance with evil glee as he returns his palm to where it had been resting before to give a curt squeeze, his rings playfully digging into the muscle beneath Niall’s top. “And yet here you are, sitting on my couch, waiting to get into my car. Funny how that works, innit? We benefit from one another. Mutualism at its finest.”

The Irish man shrugs himself free of his friend’s hold once again, glaring at him with darkening eyes, but there’s no true malice behind it. “More like parasitism.” 

“So are you two gonna kiss now or what?” Mitch’s soft, mocking voice butts in as he drifts up beside Niall, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark denim straight jeans and his long hair tied back into a low ponytail. He’s wearing a light-wash Rolling Stones t-shirt he’d gotten at a concert he and Harry had attended back in the eighties, along with a pair of scuffed up sneakers. Pretty casual for a club— too casual, in Harry’s opinion. “The sexual tension is killing the audience.” 

The green-eyed boy cranes his sight back onto Niall, raising his eyebrows in question and puckering his lips. “What d’you say, Ni? Wanna kiss this little disagreement better? I’m down.”

The pale young man makes a gagging noise, stepping away. “Don’t know where your mouth’s been. But if your bed fellows have anything to say about it, it’s nowhere good. I’m going to respectfully decline.” 

“There was absolutely nothing respectful in that response.” Adam chimes in, chuckling as he bumps Niall’s shoulder with his own, hands clasped casually behind his back. “You need to work on your people skills.”

“My people skills are fine.” Niall quips back sarcastically. “Harry just isn’t a person, he’s a demon.” 

“Technically, we all are.” The curly-haired vampire points out, walking over to his matte leather couch and retrieving a pin-striped, grey-black fitted blazer from its backrest. He tosses the jacket over his shoulders, shrugging it on and fixing the material over his torso, the curves of the piece accentuating the strong muscles of his back and the dip of his slender waist. “I just don’t care to hide it, really. Especially not when it comes to Niall’s taste in clothes. Which is rubbish, by the way. If that wasn’t clear before.”

“It was.” Niall deadpans, gaze half-lidded and petty.

Harry fixes the sleeves of his coat around his forearms, smoothing out any wrinkles and buttoning the cuffs. He momentarily ducks into the kitchen, his enhanced eyesight spotting the small digital time-stamp of the oven even from across the room. He has less than thirteen minutes before he has to be at Y/N’s flat. He should’ve suggested a longer time span.

Harry turns back around to fully face his crew, situating his collar into place by folding it along the back of his neck, appraising their expectant appearances. They’re all waiting for him. He’s the one driving, after all. 

The immortal clears his throat, hands dropping to pat at his blazer pocket, making sure that his keys are in his possession. He sighs lightly through his nose, a knowing grin trying to force its way onto his lips but he keeps it at bay, wanting to maintain a straight expression to garner less backlash for the news he’s about to break. 

“I’m not going.”

The pause that fills the atmosphere and the blank faces his friends dote are almost comical. Harry bats his eyelashes at them without a single twitch or jerk of his features. He wants them to understand he’s being serious.

After at least ten heartbeats— a guess, considering no one in the room has one to provide an accurate measurement— a raging exclamation explodes from behind the other three vampires in front of him. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Harry watches in mild amusement as Xander stomps up from behind the group, shouldering between Mitch and Adam and sticking him with a glower dark enough to instill fear in any living being. But Harry is hardly living, and he’s definitely not scared of a vampire who’s practically a newborn. Xander’s the youngest of them in terms of the immortality scale— he’d transitioned back in nineteen ninety-six when he was thirty, which gives the illusion that he’s older when in reality, he isn’t— so Harry’s strength easily outmatches his. Xander is basically the puppy of the circle, and he’s certainly yappy and annoying enough to support that title. His lack of age and wisdom is also probably why he’s the most explosive. 

Harry kinks an eyebrow up at the taller, tanned man, looping only one button through its designated hole in the middle of his jacket. That will allow him to show off what lies beneath it while also making sure the article won’t be a pest in the windy California night. “I’m not kidding. Something else came up that...peaked my interest.”

Xander’s fists momentarily clench by his sides and he then folds his arms across his lightly heaving chest, trying to hide his anger away along the insides of his elbows. He spits his words through gritted teeth, attempting to keep his cadence level. “What could have possibly come up so late that you only let use know after we waited for you for over an hour?”

Harry can’t stop himself from smirking this time around, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards with condescension. The statement that he produces is all too familiar to Xander, given that it mirrors the reply he had used on Harry exactly a week ago, when the leader of the group had asked him what his intentions were once they’d gotten inside their club for the night. “I have a date.”  

Xander’s entire face flushes a faint shade of cherry red. His forearms tighten across his body, tone more strained than before as he actively wills himself to remain calm. “A date?”

The shorter vampire smiles at him with fake innocence, working his every nerve like it’s his job. Harry doesn’t know why, but pissing Xander off is always such a delectable pastime. “Yup. With a girl I met last week, actually.”

“You don’t go on dates.” Niall pipes up, looking around at the other men in the room in confusion, almost as if his comment should be obvious. “You rarely even spend the night. Said so yourself.” 

Harry shrugs one shoulder indifferently, checking his reflection in the closest section of the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline, the lights of the cars and buildings below twinkling otherworldly. “I guess it’s less a date and more a booty-call, to be honest. I only agreed ‘cause it’s easier than having to drag my ass to that horrid club you chose to spend hours trying to find someone. This meal’s already prim, proper, and served. And I know for a fact I’ll enjoy it, so there’s no real harm.” 

He turns back to Xander, the man’s peeved reaction tickling him more than he thought it would. “What was that you said last time, Xanny?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Oh, yeah! I'm just grabbing a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry’s friend’s cheeks dye a deeper shade of crimson, dark veins webbing across the iridescent whites of his eyes for a flickering second. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Harry counters the angry expression with a bright smile, his dialect dripping with arrogance. “Girls dig it. And you seemed to dig it, too, if I recall correctly. Remember? You might not. Post-orgasm amnesia and all that.” 

Xander takes a measured inhale, releasing it slowly and allowing his anger to ebb away gradually, ignoring Harry’s blast from the past. His next question is physically directed towards their ex-chauffeur, but is truly aimed at the gang as a whole. “Who’s going to take us, then?”

The curly-haired vampire shrugs his shoulders once again, uninterested in the topic that is quickly growing old. “You could take Niall’s car. Problem solved.”

The whole clique lives in the same condo complex, mostly due to convenience. It’s already tricky for vampires to find others of their kind, so it’s a miracle that they’d all managed to end up together in the first place. And it’s an even bigger miracle that they got along well enough to form a tight-knit coven, which is the closest thing any of them now have to family. Living in close proximity is the ideal way of maintaining that rare bond, plus it allows them to help each other in staying safe and keeping their urges in line. 

Since they all live in the same building, Niall’s car is in the garage right beside Harry’s, so transportation shouldn’t be an issue. They just always take his vehicle because he’s the only one that actually enjoys driving. 

“Are you mental? Like actually, genuinely insane?” Xander sputters in appalled shock. “Niall drives like a lunatic!” 

“Oi, piss off! Maybe you should learn to drive then, huh? Instead of having all those guys you shag take you everywhere.”

Xander ignores Niall’s insult, putting his palms up in disgust, backing away. “I refuse to get in a car with him behind the wheel. Dying once was good enough for me.”

“Did I miss the memo?” Niall snaps, glimpsing around at all the monsters standing around him, attitude tight with annoyance. “Y’know, the one where you all just decided to shit on me tonight?”

Harry bursts into an airy cackle, listing his head to the side as he gives Niall a humorous once-over, his dangly cross earring dabbing across the crisp cut of his coat’s shoulder blade. “You don’t necessarily make it hard, love.” 

Niall’s jaw clenches as he narrows his icy blue eyes. “Xander’s right— you are an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, he’s also right about you driving like you’re on tranquilizers.” Adam sighs, running a palm up his face, using his index finger and thumb to massage either of his temples, despite the fact that they lack a pulse. “I guess I could drive? I hate it, but Mitch hates it more, so I’m our best bet. Better than Road Runner over here.” 

“Yeah, just keep talking about me like I’m not present. That’s fine. I’m spitting venom in all your drinks tonight.” 

“Well,” Harry boasts abruptly, interrupting the game of verbal ping-pong happening in front of him, taking a quick peek at his phone for the time. As much as he loves causing some good-natured chaos between his friends, he has less than ten minutes to make it to Y/N’s apartment on time and traffic’s a bitch at this hour. “I have nothing to do with this anymore, so I’m just gonna take my leave. You lot have fun figuring this out.” 

He swivels around on his heel, striding away with his usual haughty air straightening his back, heading towards the corridor that leads to the front entrance of the apartment. The softly lit hallway swallows his silhouette and for the first time since he’d left the secluded confines of his bathroom, he allows a giddy smile of excitement to tweak his lips. Just for a second and not a moment longer. If his friends had seen it, they would’ve taken the piss.

Niall’s accent cuts through the air, prickling at his ears as the glossy, cold doorknob comes into contact with his even colder fingers. “I can’t believe you’d abandon us just to get laid!”

“Lock the door on your way out!” 

///

When a sharp knock echoes across Y/N’s flat, she nearly screams. 

Her nerves have been on edge since the last text she’d received; only after reading that final cheeky message had the reality of the situation hit. 

This isn’t her. This isn’t her at all.

Inviting a total stranger into her home and into her bed was something she’d never experienced before last week. One night stands were very few and very far for her— she could count all the ones she’d had on a single hand, and even then they had been with people she had known to some extent— and it was due to the fact that this type of situation is slathered in mystery and unsureness. Giving herself up in such an intimate manner to someone she wasn’t acquainted to in some shape or form…It comes with a certain amount of risk, both physically and emotionally, which is why she hardly ever engaged in such activities before Harry.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with having that type of exhilarating fun in your life— she praises the women who can go around so confidently and express their sexuality however they please— but she herself had been raised under a roof that was moderate and conservative, and that environment had molded her into the person she had grown up to be. Those traditional concepts ran through the core of her being, and no matter how hard she tried to shake them, they refused to break loose. They weighed on her shoulders, constantly making her second-guess her motives and desires, most of which go against the status quo that had been implemented into her brain from a young age. This— whatever this is— is a huge step for her; it’s the first attempt she’s made to take over her own life and go against the grain she’d been accustomed to her whole existence. 

From the second Y/N had arrived here in Los Angeles and set a foot off the plane, she had been alone. Everyone who cared for her was miles and miles away and she was starting a new chapter on a completely blank page, with no one to guide her hand as she wrote. For the two months she’d spent settling in and trying to meld into her new environment, she had gone at it with a sense of emptiness hollowing the pit of her stomach. No one was there to comfort her during the rough patches, and no one cared enough yet to assure her that things would turn out alright. No one had bothered to tell her she was safe and that nothing would hurt her. No one made themselves available the way people did back home. 

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago. 

Their encounter had been purely for sexual gratification, but during that short time they shared, she vividly remembered him telling her that she could trust him. It was a preposterous statement to make— asking someone to trust you when you didn’t even know their last name— but the gaze in his emerald eyes had seemed so genuine and encouraging, and his voice had been so gentle and soothing, and his touch had been so delicate and consoling...That strange young man— with the pretty curls, intriguing tattoos, and dazzling smile— had somehow managed to untie the knot of unease that had been sitting in her belly for the last couple of weeks. She’s stumped on how he’d managed to wriggle it free; the only thing she can effectively say took a part in it was his eyes. There was just such a glass-like quality to them that reminded her of a mirror. It was like they were reflecting all her emotions back at her, using their familiarity to compel her into a state of mental peace. She’d appreciated it more than she’d let on. 

Something tells Y/N that this is the reason she had contacted him. She wanted to feel that safety net he had provided her with once again. She didn’t need an emotional connection from Harry, she just needed a bit of mental relief. She wanted something to take her mind off all her troubles. Something to distract her, even if it was only for a few hours. And with the way Harry had handled her last time, she knows he’s more than capable of helping her reach those goals. 

Y/N doesn’t think anyone has ever made her feel how Harry had that semi-drunken Friday night. She’d been with a few other people before, and had even been in a long-term relationship with someone she had once thought would end up being her husband, but none of those men came close to this peculiar stranger. 

In the town she was from, it was typical for people to marry their high school sweethearts. It was a small region where everyone either knew one another or knew of one another, so it wasn’t difficult to find someone that could fit into the role that needed to be filled. The person she had found was a boy by the name of Bradley, who she had begun to date their freshman year of high school. 

They’d met through mutual friends and he’d invited her to their first ever homecoming dance, where she had felt like everything was falling into place almost like in a movie. He was cute, with hazel eyes, sun-bleached hair, and freckles that jolted every time he laughed. He was polite, funny, and treated her with enough respect and dignity to keep her hooked for a while. Things had gone pretty well the four years they were together in high school; their relationship wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exciting either. It was just...secure. He was there, and he was willing to give her his attention, and that’s all that really mattered to her at the time. She thought that was all she needed. 

Then graduation came and went, and so did Bradley. He left for college, set on the intention that they would make long distance work somehow. To keep a long story short, it hadn’t worked out how they expected. As the months passed, she noticed he started to separate himself from her more and more. The video chats are what disappeared first; what used to be a daily FaceTime call turned into a weekly one and then, if she was lucky, a monthly one. Phone calls followed the same fate. Texting became a chore rather than something to look forward to and she could feel him slipping, which left her feeling helpless because he was in another state, far away and too out of reach to appropriately solve anything. Energized conversations slowly faltered into five-word messages, which eventually teetered into barely any communication at all. 

When Y/N heard the news that he’d cheated on her, it didn’t even come from him. It came from his roommate. Things ended swiftly after that, which was the saddest thing of all. Almost five years of her life, completely gone to waste. Handling the pain was a whole other misery she’d had to shoulder, alongside the embarrassment and humiliation, which stemmed from the fact that she was aware her peers had heard about the whole ordeal. With the help of her family and friends, she’d eventually gotten over the heartbreak. The weird thing is, she doesn’t think she loved him. She loved the idea of him— loved that he represented everything she had been raised to seek in a relationship. They’d grown up together, their families knew one another, they shared the same friends, they had common hobbies. It was like a match made in heaven, though after it broke off, she quickly came to the realization that it hadn’t been made in heaven at all. Made in a test tube was a more fitting analogy. 

Y/N’s love life after that painfully slow cliche disaster consisted of random boys around town she recognized from school and work. The hook-ups were fleeting and hardly satisfying, but at least they were something. She soon found out that she could do better on her own, but whenever she craved someone else’s touch, she was grateful to have anyone she could get. She’d mainly stuck to the same guys for the sake of consistency; it was easier having people she already knew how to please and vice versa, though she’ll admit it was mostly a one way street. Men can be so clueless sometimes that it’d be funny if it wasn’t so irritating. 

Then Y/N had skipped town and closed off sexually for a while. She had stayed shut down until Harry had walked into her life with that stupid sly smirk and his unorthodox— yet surprisingly attractive—fashion sense, sipping straight tequila like a fucking psycho from the cup in his jeweled fingers. He’d waltzed right onto the stool beside her at the bar, right out of the club with her hand in his, and then right past the doorframe of her apartment, kindly gifting her the best sex of her entire life. He’d worked her every desire with a certain skill and awareness she had never experienced (not from any of her past lovers, and definitely not from Bradley’s vanilla tendencies), dismantling her body as if he’d known her for decades, leaving her sore and aching in a way she didn’t know was humanly possible.

And now here Y/N is, pacing back and forth from her small living room to her even smaller kitchen, chewing along the knuckle of her forefinger as she tries to tie down the jitters running amuck in her belly. 

She repeatedly smooths down the dress she’s wearing, claiming that it’s to get rid of the wrinkles, but in truth, it’s to wipe the dampness from her palms. The outfit had been a birthday present from her cousin the year before and she’s rarely worn it since the move, which is a direct result of her lack of socializing. She only ever really leaves her home for groceries and to attend work, neither of which call for a pretty sundress and strappy tan sandals. Despite having gone out to the club a few times, the dress doesn’t fit that scene either. LA gets a bit chilly at night and she has yet to grow accustomed to the city’s weather. Wearing this after-hours would surely end with her acquiring a mild case of hypothermia. 

The garment is a light blue baby doll design, littered with tiny daffodil prints of varying shapes and colors. It stops about three-fourths down her thigh, fluttering outwards in layered flares, its bandeau-style top held in place by thin straps of the same fabric. She figured she’d deck herself out nicely; from the one interaction she’d had with Harry, she can tell he’s a person of refined taste. It was evident in his expensive clothing and his wide variety of precious rings. She doesn’t know why, but there’s a toiling in the pit of her tummy urging to impress him. 

Y/N’s hair has been freshly washed and blow-dried, her legs thoroughly shaved into silk, and she’d applied a light layer of makeup, done in anticipation that anything heavier would likely end up smeared across her face— a result of sweat and Harry’s dominant persona. Simply reflecting on his commanding sensual presence makes her self-pedicured toes curl in her sandals. 

Y/N hadn’t been sure on how to prepare for his arrival. She wasn’t versed in advanced hook-up culture— her raunchiest experience was in the backseat of someone's 2004 Toyota Corolla. She doesn’t want to get this wrong. Going overboard would make him feel smothered and awkward, but underselling would give him the impression that she doesn’t have any respect for him, save for what lies between his legs. Those are the last two things she wants him to gather from this. 

She’d settled for pulling out a bottle of red wine that had been a house-warming present from the landlord. Not too shabby, but not too loud. And who doesn’t enjoy a cup of half-decent wine on a Friday evening, right?

Y/N had just finished arranging two glasses— which she’d found at the thrift shop down the street for a steal— onto the counter of her kitchen when that swift rapping sound had broken through the tense air of her home, echoing from the front door and causing a yelp to lodge in her throat. 

Ice shoots through her veins. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She takes a handful of penetrating breaths, concentrating on how the cool air feels expanding her lungs. The technique aids in calming some of her nerves, grounding her just enough that she can will herself to move without her knees giving out. Y/N tentatively makes her way down the corridor that leads to her front door, heart hammering against her ribs. She shouldn’t be this riled up— he’s literally already been inside her. There’s pretty much nothing she can hide from him at this point. 

On the other side of the door, Harry is blissfully ignorant to the panic attack threatening to overcome Y/N. 

The vampire leans his shoulder against the frame of the somewhat raggedy door, arms crossed over his thick chest as his gaze bounces judgmentally around all the patches of peeling paint. He chews at a piece of gum— which he’d popped into his mouth on the drive over to make sure he tastes as delectable as always— in slow, lazy motions, jaw flexing as he unconsciously pops an array of tiny bubbles with his teeth, waiting for Y/N to emerge. 

Harry glances up at the flickering light bulb in the hallway of the complex, nose scrunching in distaste at the annoying flashing. She really needs to get a better place, he thinks, reaching up and dragging the pad of his middle finger along the curve of his bottom lip, absentmindedly wiping off a bit of extra chapstick that had colored outside the lines when he’d applied it. He always tries to keep his mouth soft, especially when he knows he’s going to be using it. Plus, the vanilla bean flavor pairs well with mint. 

The sound of a seal cracking open yanks his attention, the door before him slowly swinging inwards. Cool air pours from inside, bathing him in a scent that his frenzied instincts had been subconsciously craving the last couple of days. Harry cranes his neck over his shoulder, spitting his gum out and not bothering to watch where it lands. He turns back just as Y/N’s familiar figure comes into view.

The first thing he notices is the dress. 

Fuck, the dress. 

It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sundress, but it fits her like it was made specifically for the purpose of testing his restraint. He rakes his gaze up and down her body shamelessly, much like he had on the night they met. 

The light blue background and rainbow miniature floral print compliments her skin tone nicely, making it stand out below the dingy light hanging above their heads. The piece lands about halfway down her thigh, fanning around her legs slightly in frilly folds, tempting him with that bit of innocent exposure. An image of him ripping the dress up her thighs races across the forefront of his mind and he can feel his fangs momentarily break through his gums.  

As Harry draws his sight upwards, the minimal throbbing between his legs only amplifies. The dress cinches just below her bust, accentuating her chest, and he comes to the painful realization that she’s not wearing a bra underneath; she doesn’t need it due to the bralette-like top. One simple tug of his index finger would leave her completely bare and that conclusion causes a sweltering itch to erupt along the back of his throat.

Harry’s irises finally come to rest on her face, finding that the rest of the human girl’s look appears just as it had last week. Minimal makeup, no accessories, and the smell of chamomile shampoo strung through her hair, though it’s easily smothered by her natural scent of flowers and sugar. He also finds that while he had been blatantly undressing her with his eyes, she had delighted herself in doing the same. Watching her gawk at him hungrily caresses his ego immensely, evident in how the edges of his mouth kink. 

Y/N doesn’t mean to ogle, she really doesn’t. But from the instant he’d come into view, standing there propped against her threshold with his ankles crossed and his lean arms folded over his strong chest, she couldn’t control it. He just looks so fucking good— better than last time, which she didn’t think was plausible— and she gets the feeling that he knows he looks borderline godly. 

Harry’s clad in what appears to be a sheer mesh flouncy button-up with holographic threads speckled through the material, shimmering under the dim atmosphere of the hallway. The last three holes of the shirt are left open, exposing his tanned pectorals and thoroughly inked chest. Last time they had been together, she’d been too distracted by the aching between her thighs to properly notice the swallow tattoos along his collarbones and the giant butterfly at the crest of his stomach. But now, she stares at them freely as they expand and contract with his easy breaths, her mouth beginning to water. 

The blouse is covered by a dark pinstriped blazer, the crisp shoulder blades of the jacket complimenting his broad frame as the curves dip along his waist alluringly. The loose top is tucked in along the brim of yet another pair of high-waisted trousers, though they are creme-colored instead of copper. The ironed pants give way to a pair of glossy black heeled boots, which are bedazzled along the back of the two-inch elevation, the jewels twinkling in the shape of a word that she can’t make out at this angle. 

Harry’s collection of luxurious rings and necklaces adorn their usual spots and she gets the impression that he never leaves home without them. His gold cross earring sways back and forth lightly, her warped reflection cast across its surface and staring back at her numbly. 

Harry breaks through the haze his physique had cast on her brain.

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.” 

A shiver slithers down her spine at the deep baritone of his voice, English accent slathered across every syllable and dripping with suggestive teasing. She’d forgotten how sultry he sounds, even when he’s not actively striving for it. 

Y/N’s attention jets up from where it had been pasted to his body, the expression across his handsome features one of snarky self-assurance, which tells her she’d been caught. Indents cave into his cheeks, twitching with glee as he bats his lashes slowly, eyes going half-lidded in amusement. He looks so sinful with those shiny ringlets curling around his small ears, framing his sharp jaw and kissing the nape of his neck, alongside those raspberry red lips and the emerald hue sparkling around his pupils. She can’t tear herself away.

After an elongated second of silence on her part, Harry raises one of his sculpted brows expectantly, letting her know he’s waiting for a response. Heat overflows Y/N’s cheeks and buzzes across the shells of her ears.

“H-Hi. Uh— Nice to see you. Too. Nice to see you, too.”

An odd sense of déjà vu flags in the back of her skull and she’s reminded that this is exactly how they’d met the first time around— with her making an utter fool of herself, much to his entertainment.

The crescent above his top lip curves upwards as a result of his grin widening. He taps the tip of his elegant shoe patiently against the cement ground, arms shifting against his chest and she can see the way his biceps strain the fabric of his coat. He’s just so fit.  

Harry���s tone comes out playful and lighthearted. He doesn’t need to be invited in again since she’s already explicitly allowed him in before, but he asks anyways, out of courtesy. “Can I come in? Or are you planning on taking me dancing or summat?”

The laugh that escapes Y/N is dense with a nervous edge, but it’s better than a stuttering jumble of incoherent words. She moves out of the way, flushing her back to the wall of the tiny entrance corridor and leaving just enough room for him to squeeze by. “Yes, come on in! Sorry.” 

“You’re alright, darling.” The tall vampire steps forward into the mortal’s home, turning sideways as he does so, chest pressing against her own. He glances down at her lips for a flash of a moment, then back to her eyes. “Thank you.”

Y/N’s grip on her doorknob tightens. She looks up at him through her lashes, bottom lip barely trembling. “No problem. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.” 

Harry runs his tongue across his teeth, pressing it to the inside of cheek as he absorbs the mildly erotic image of Y/N decked out in a frilly dress, glancing up at him shyly as her chest heaves slightly against his own. “Well, I couldn’t leave you to handle that pesky wood paneling all on your own, now could I?”

A smile ghosts over her delicate lips as she shuts the door and locks it, not breaking eye contact. “How generous of you. My hero.” 

Far from it, love.

Y/N slips out from where Harry had wedged her to the wall, beckoning him after her with a gentle turn of her head. The creature tucks his hands into his front pockets, following her down the narrow stretch. They drift past her room (he makes sure not to look in and spare himself the horror of seeing that dumb tapestry) and past her bathroom, into the expanse of her living area. It’s just as small and cozy as he remembers it and he can’t stop himself from scoffing lightly as his sight drifts over the couch. Good memories. 

“Would you like some wine?” Y/N’s question carries softly from inside her kitchen. She’s already gripping the glass bottle in her hand, attempting to pull out the cork, and she hadn’t thought of needing a wine-opener until now. Fuck. 

Harry makes his way to join her, passing underneath the archway and taking the spot across from the girl. He leans his lower back on the counter, hands remaining perched casually in his slacks. “I’d love some.”

“Great.” She huffs, twisting stubbornly at the spongy cap with all the might she can muster, the rough surface scratching her palm. “Let me just— just get this open.”

Harry’s head lists sideways as he wards off a chuckle. “Want some help?” 

Y/N releases an irritated grunt, shoulders slumping a tad as she fails to get the top loose. She holds out the bottle towards her visitor, titling it from side to side in surrender. “Be my guest.” 

The immortal pulls his hands out from his pockets, taking the container from her grasp and the human notices how they dwarf the bottle. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. 

Harry wraps his ring-clad digits around the cork, giving it one easy twist and Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off as she hears a pop tinge the air. Harry offers her the wine and cap in return, licking his lips to avoid laughing in her face. Supernatural strength always delivers. 

“How��?” Y/N’s owlish eyes flicker back and forth between Harry’s cocky expression and the object in his hands. “How did you even...?”

The brunette gives her a nonchalant shrug. “Guess you loosened it up for me, Thor.” 

She gingerly takes the beverage and its accompaniment from his outstretched palms, blinking at him in mild shock. Her slight unease is swiftly phased out, however; a result of his cute banter. It was probably just a lucky coincidence. “I guess so.”

Y/N pours out two glasses of the dark red liquid, handing one to Harry, feeling her heart skip a beat when he wraps his hold around the stout flute and their fingers brush. He stays like that for a heartbeat, with his icy digits sifted between hers, the amber specks in his irises glittering like diamonds. Then, the moment is over and he pulls away slowly, guiding his drink up to his plush lips. She hates how he can leave her so breathless without a single hitch. 

The girl watches as Harry takes a leisurely sip of the alcohol, his gaze dancing around her kitchen curiously as she finishes recapping the bottle and scooting it into the corner of the counter. 

A thought dawns on her as soon as she focuses back onto the boy before her. Harry looks weird. He looks so weird standing in her small, dingy kitchen with its worn wooden cabinets and fake marble tabletop. He looks so out of place, dressed head to toe in designer brands and fancy fabrics, hands and neck decorated with posh jewelry, and the unmistakable smell of an expensive cologne wafting from his masculine throat. And he most certainly is out of place when it comes to who he’s associating with. He’s out of Y/N’s league, not only physically, but in his behaviors, as well. It’s so obvious it almost hurts. 

Yet here Harry is, looking polished and stylish, while she’s sporting a mere sundress that was probably bought off the clearance rack at Kohl’s. It just doesn’t mix, and she finds herself wondering why he’d chosen her in the first place. When she had voiced similar concerns the day they’d slept together, he had told her it was because she was timid and he wanted to see if he could break through that. But Y/N isn’t stupid. There has to be some other reason. Why else would a rich bachelor pay attention to a small-town runaway in a measly floral—

“I like your dress.”

Y/N glances up at Harry from where her mind had fallen, startled by the sudden interference in her dark thoughts. She’d been tracing across the slope of his structured jaw, mesmerized by how it would grow taut every time he swallowed down a gulp of his beverage. 

She had ambled so deep in her head, she barely manages to mutter a passable answer. “Oh, thank you! I’ve had it for a bit, but I barely wear it.”

The edges of the vampire’s mouth quirk around the rim of his glass, creases wrinkling along the corners of his bright eyes. “It suits you nicely. A beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.” 

Y/N’s belly somersaults, a sheepish giggle running along the undercurrent of her next mumble, so low it’s hardly audible. “Thank you. Again. Thought I’d bring it out for a special occasion.” 

Harry’s eyebrows jump upwards at her comment. He draws his wine glass from between his lips, resting it against his hard stomach and gifting the human a cheeky once-over. “So I’m a special occasion, now, am I?”

Y/N looks down at the straps of her sandals, fighting off a grin. She shrugs one shoulder offhandedly, bringing her cup to her mouth and taking a long drag of the sweet liquor, feeling it wash across her tongue and leave a warm glow in her tummy. “Maybe.” 

Harry hums teasingly in his throat, tapping his pinky pensively along the bottom of his glass, opal ring clinking against the crystalline surface. The color of his drink makes the black polish on his nails stand out almost artistically. “I’ll take any compliment I can get, especially from those pretty lips.”

Another wave of heat flushes across the apples of Y/N’s cheeks. “You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?”

The monster tips back another swig of wine, savoring the notes of wild cherry and pomegranate in its palate. Not bad, especially for what he can tell is a ten dollar bottle. 

He cocks his head to the side, irises glitzing knowingly amidst his long lashes. “I think we’re both aware that I most certainly know how to flatter a girl.” 

Y/N’s stare snaps up to lock with his, the faintest whimper stringing her vocal chords. If it wasn’t for Harry’s heightened hearing, he would have never known it’d happened. But he does, and he can feel the throb between his thighs spike as a result. The sounds she makes are just as wonderful as he remembers.

The sexual tension suspending in the room is practically palpable. After a bundle of her heartbeats— which is gradually rising in intensity— echo in his ears, he decides to speak up again. 

“I’ve been thinking about you.” 

The statement can be taken into so many different contexts and that’s why Harry chose it. She could interpret it as innocent admiration on behalf of a smitten lover, or as another layer of sensual praise. It’s versatile, successful either way. 

Y/N blinks at him exactly three times in surprise. “You have?”

She’d been thinking about him, too. Non-stop. And now that she knows it’s mutual, she doesn’t feel so nervous anymore. It reassures her that they’re on the same page of this messy novel written about their undefined association. Or that they are at least within the same chapter.  

Harry bobs his head in confirmation, indulging another sip of wine, letting it filter through his taste buds slowly. His glass is almost empty. “Mmhm. Walked past this candle store at the mall the other day and they had one burning that smelled just like you.”

His confession is sweet and it makes the tips of her fingers tingle. Y/N copies his action, taking another gulp of her beverage, attitude airy and inquisitive. “Is that so? And what do I smell like?”

Harry’s response is immediate and confident, almost as if he’s spent time thinking on the subject prior to today. “Honey and lavender.” 

Y/N nods her head in wonder, laughing gently. “That’s oddly specific.” 

Harry feels like he’s been smacked between the eyes with an iron rod. That was an idiot move. Absolutely moronic. 

He just now comes to terms with how intimate the comment he’d made had been. It suggests that he’s pondered on this topic, which gives the impression that he could be more interested in her than he actually is. He doesn’t need this loose connection turning into some type of cliche romantic comedy; he doesn’t have the space, patience, or emotional stability for it. And certainly not with someone he’s only fucked once. 

The vampire clears his throat, figuring that he can clean up this metaphorical spill by throwing a bit of crudeness at it. “Then yesterday I had a donut, yeah? One of those cream-filled ones. And when I took a bite of it, all the cream just came oozing out and I was like, ‘hm, this reminds me of someone…’”

The slightly endeared expression on Y/N’s face crumbles to dust, voice shrill and indignant at his lewd analogy. “You fucking perv!” 

Harry sputters into a round of boyish cackling, nearly wheezing when her foot reaches over and strikes him on the shin. He clasps over his stomach with his free hand, head falling back in glee as her features pinch in embarrassed disgust. He manages to speak between bursts of giggles, water gathering along his tear ducts due to how hard he’s laughing. “I’m just being honest!”  

“No, you’re being a gross little fourteen year old asshole!” Y/N exclaims incredulously, but she can’t keep herself from joining in on his boasts of amusement. 

His laughter is contagious. It’s loud and unapologetic in a manner she rarely sees in anyone and he just looks really fucking cute with his dimples jolting and smile lines creasing. It’s hard to stay mad at him, though it’s not like she’d truly been upset in the first place. 

Harry reigns himself in, inhaling deep breaths and wiping at his tears with the back of his large hand as a joyful groan rumbles in his chest. A few more giggles sneak out when he sees Y/N’s flat expression, but he manages to stifle the rest. His tone is jesting, poking fun. “If it makes you feel any better, I was respectful enough to wipe the donut down with a napkin, as well.” 

“Fuck off.”

Harry grins down snidely at the last inch or so of alcohol left in his glass, bringing it to his mouth and downing it all in one go. He places the cup down carefully on the counter behind him, his arms finding their way across his stomach, fingertips momentarily tapping at his elbows. He appraises a playfully grouchy Y/N, pursing his lips to hide a smirk. 

He watches as she takes another small taste from her drink, her pulse lulled by its contents. She’s not drunk by any means— not even buzzed— but it had helped calm the tittering in her throat that Harry had been able to detect earlier. She’s relaxed now, all anxiousness washed away by the small serving of liquor and his inappropriate (and extremely funny, if he does say so himself) jokes. 

The creature thinks it’s proper time he gets what he came for. 

“I really am glad you reached out, though.” Harry starts, an easygoing smile nudging across his alcohol-swollen mouth. “Truly.” 

Y/N snorts sarcastically, attempting to hide how his comment had made her pulse sharpen. He’d heard it anyways. “Oh, are you? Truly?”

Harry pushes himself off the edge of the counter, slowly sauntering over to Y/N, who instinctively draws back further against the tabletop behind her. She ogles at him from below heavy lashes, glass still perched between her tinted lips, excited anticipation written all over her body language. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her, rising a few notches the closer he gets. 

“Yeah.” Harry’s arms unfold, one stretching over her shoulder to prop his palm against the cupboard behind her head, the other fiddling with the seam of his blazer. He slides his forefinger and thumb along the single buttoned hole, giving it a rough tug and allowing his jacket to spring open. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun interior designing with anyone. Not for a while.” 

Y/N glimpses down at where his coat had parted, drinking up the sight of his lean torso behind the see-through material of his shirt. Now that he’s nearly pressed against her, his scent is stronger than before, burying her under smoky notes of vanilla and seasoned firewood. A familiar heat pools between her clasped thighs. 

When she pipes up, it’s shaky and whispered, covered in a dreamy undercurrent. “Yeah, me either. It felt...nice.”

Harry’s irises flash crimson for a millisecond, but she’s too occupied gawking at his tight stomach to notice. His dialect takes on a low, seductive twang, the breath of his words fanning across her face. All she can smell is wine, mint, and...vanilla chapstick? 

“It felt really nice.” 

Y/N’s view drags up to land on his lips. They look as soft and appetizing as last time, tempting her to just drop her flute onto the floor and replace it with his mouth. “Extremely nice.” 

An outside force suddenly tips her glass upwards and she realizes it’s Harry’s fingers. He nudges her cup until the liquid inside funnels towards her mouth, his intentions set on helping her finish it off. She drains the wine obediently, staring up at him dazed and moony, feeling a few drops escape along the sides of her mouth and tickle down her chin. The jade-eyed boy then gently pries the glass from her fingertips, reaching over and placing it inside her sink to be handled later. 

Y/N’s hands fall flat against his thick chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily below her grasp as he takes a step forward, their bodies completely flushing together. His palm trails up the exposed sliver of her thigh, diving a couple of inches below her dress and giving the outer area a hard squeeze. He doesn’t go any further; he won’t until she explicitly asks for it. He’s a prick about a lot of things, but never consent.

Harry leans down, running the tip of his cold nose along her clenched jaw, his warm tongue peeking out to collect the streams of wine that had dripped out. The contrast in sensations makes her knees buckle and what he murmurs hotly against her skin doesn’t help in calming those motions at all.

“Wouldn’t mind making you feel that nice again.” 

Y/N’s mind stalls, overwhelmed by his touch and smell. She can feel him sponging tender kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she can feel the palm of his hand massaging at her thigh needily. She can feel his breaths quickening in pace the longer he’s around her, and she can feel the foundation of a moan building in his lungs in the form of small vibrations, which run across her palms and twitch her fingers. She can feel everything; she’s never been more hyper-aware of her surroundings than now. And all because of this one mysterious young man. 

When Y/N finally speaks, Harry feels relief flood his system, though it is swiftly replaced by intense desire. 

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.” 

That’s full permission if he’s ever heard it. 

Harry’s other hand drops from its spot against the cupboard behind her, joining its partner on her opposite thigh. He coasts his palms fully below her flowy dress onto her hips, a lascivious simper crawling across his cheeks at the lack of extra fabric beneath her clothes. “No panties tonight?”

The human swallows heavily, shaking her head as she leans it back against the wooden cabinets, giving him access to her throat. At the sight, the vampire’s fangs protrude, cutting into the inside of his lower lip as venom fills his mouth. He wills himself to maintain control. It’s difficult, considering his sharp eyes can make out the chiseling of her arteries pumping blood just beneath her delicate skin, but he forces composure into his behavior nonetheless. With all of the lights on and Y/N completely sober, he knows he won’t get away with another mid-fuck stunt like the one he pulled last time they were in this position. 

Instead, he distracts himself with what he can draw from her at this very moment— another unbelievable orgasm. 

“Such a filthy little fucking thing.” Harry growls, smearing his lips down the center of her jugular, nipping love bites into her flesh but making sure not to split it open. “S’that how bad you wanted it when you texted me? So bad that you didn’t even bother to wear anything underneath?”

Y/N whines softly when he passes over a particularly tender spot along her neck, shuttering against his chest. “Y-Yes.” 

A low chuckle rolls from Harry’s wandering tongue as he hones in on the area that had coaxed such a delicious reaction. “Fuck, that was such a pretty noise. Are you sensitive here, baby?”

Y/N nods with fervor, running her touch up his pectorals and over his strong shoulders, diving under his coat and fisting at the mesh that strains across his muscular back. Her eyes roll closed, her next confession coming out in the form of a feathery sigh, legs parting wider for him to comfortably fit in between. “I just...I just need you.”

Harry eagerly accepts the invitation, sifting between her thighs and hiking them up onto his hips. The fact that he can suspend her so effortlessly, almost as if she weighs nothing, makes the pit of her tummy boil. “You need me now, d’you? How much, doll? Want you to tell me how much you missed my cock.” 

The young woman winces ever so slightly at the crude word and it amuses him to no end. “So fucking much, Harry.” 

He can confidently say his name has never sounded sweeter than when it trickles from Y/N’s tongue. 

When he speaks, it’s packed with all the pent up turmoil radiating deep in his abdomen. “Did you think about me the way I thought about you?”

Y/N’s reply falls breathily from her mouth without any hesitation. “Y-Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

A cocky hum tinges the air on his behalf. “And why’s that?”

“Because…” The girl struggles to swallow, finding it difficult to match how easily brazen he can be. She pushes through. “Because you fucked me better than anyone else ever has.” 

The compliment is one Harry gets often, but for some inexplicable reason, it hits so much deeper coming from Y/N. “Mm. Poor baby just needed to get properly rawed, didn’t you?”

“Had no idea how badly I wanted it until you came along.” 

A dark chuckle rolls from the creature’s lips at her bluntness. He repeatedly passes his textured tongue over the pressure point on her throat, flames igniting in his chest when she releases another watery, desperate mewl. “God, look at you. Practically already dripping. Like it when I play with you like that?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

And so Harry keeps going, and he doesn’t stop. Not at her neck, and not anywhere else. Not until she begs him to hours later, when he’s whittled three orgasms out of her trembling body, each one more intense than the last. 

The first one takes place right there on top of the kitchen counter. He boosts her up onto the table, bunching her pretty sundress around her quivering thighs— as he’d fantasized prior— while she fumbles with his trousers. He tends to her every breathy whimper as she eases him out of his briefs, marking his teeth all over her throat with the assurance that his blood will fade the bruises by morning. He tears his jacket down his broad shoulders, panting into her mouth as she undoes all the buttons that line his elegant iridescent shirt, moaning softly when she breaks their kiss to paint her hot lips down the expanse of his heaving chest and tight stomach. Y/N ducks down as far as her angle will allow, wanting to taste as much of his skin as she can. She wants to memorize its salty smoothness for as long as she lives. 

Harry watches her with bliss-drunken fondness twitching his mouth, head falling back to hang between his shoulders as a low, “Such a good girl.” rumbles from his throat. His ring-clad fingers tangle into her locks and scratch at her scalp lightly, strained exhales encouraging her to keep going as she delights herself with tainting love bites all over him. He yanks the girl back up by her roots, grabbing her hips and roughly scooting her forward towards him, clammy foreheads pressing together as he fixes to fill her up for the first time in what feels like eternity. 

The monster’s voice is as dominant and thick as she likes it. “Eyes up here. Want to see you come undone while I fuck you.” 

The way he spreads Y/N open makes her choke out a scream like nothing else she’s ever heard. Harry simply clamps one of his palms over her mouth, continuing to ram into her at a harsh stride, gasping against her ear with every thrust as she rakes her nails across his back. “Gotta keep that pretty mouth quiet. Thin walls.” 

The human feels like her heart is going to break through her ribs and what she doesn’t know is that with every passing beat, Harry feels it tenfold. And it’s driving him fucking insane— she drives him fucking insane. Especially when she looks at him with that glossy, begging gaze, biting into the mound of his hand as he slams his hips inside her so hard, the glasses in her cupboard shake. “Like it when I give it to you rough? Yeah, I thought so. Just like that? Harder? Say please…Christ, you’re a fucking angel.”

Y/N is dirty. So fucking filthy, and Harry loves every second of it. Loves that anything he throws out, she returns with as much enthusiasm, if not more. Loves that she can take his cock as hard as he’s willing to give it, which says a lot, considering his stamina and strength usually surpasses most humans. He’d met very few mortals who can match his sexual prowess and she happens to be one of them. She not only takes it, but pleads for more. She doesn’t just seek her own pleasure, but insists on delivering his own. And though they’re polars opposites at their core— she’s timid, physically standard, and boringly normal, whereas he’s confident, attractive, and unusually superior in every sense of the phrase— they fit together better than he’d ever care to admit. They’re perfectly compatible, down to their personalities and their intimate needs. 

As Harry stands there— fingertips leaving welts across her waist as he grunts brokenly against her throat, stretching her out like she was meant to take him this deep, her moans sounding like classical melodies to his ears— he thinks that maybe...maybe he’ll keep her around. A friends with benefits situation would be the most ideal. And to quote his own clever motto from before, it would be mutualism at its finest. 

The alliance would be nothing emotional; simply for the sake of providing each other with requited relief, as well as providing Harry with a convenient feeding arrangement. Neither of them would have to submit themselves to going to those terrible clubs, they both already know what the other enjoys, and the banter they share is pretty fulfilling. Plus, her blood is one of the sweetest he’s ever had. Whatever magic lies in her veins tides over his cravings in a fashion he’s never quite experienced. They both get what they want and don’t have to deal with the disasters of real commitment; neither are in a place in their lives where they can shoulder such a big responsibility. Harry is emotionally unavailable, as he has been for the past two centuries and as he intends to be for the next dozen. Y/N has just started anew in a place where she has so little to give and so much to lose, dating is the last thing on her mind. A casual no-strings-attached arrangement would be a perfect gift, bow and all.

And with the way they make each other cum multiple times that night— once on the counter, and twice on that trusty old couch— there’s not a single doubt in Harry’s mind that this is most definitely mutualism at its peak. 

///

During the span of the next few weeks, Harry learns a lot about Y/N. It’s surprising how informational someone’s sex habits can be. 

The second week after they had met— and the first since their second very heated, very satisfying encounter— she shoots him a text on Wednesday, of all days. 

Harry isn’t doing anything particularly interesting when he receives her message. He had gone to see Mitch play at the bar that had recently booked him as a semi-permanent gig, sitting in the booth furthest in the back from all of the ruckus, fingers tapping along the waxed table to his best friend’s skilled jazzy guitar chords. Mitch always teases Harry about how he doesn’t have a job, which the vampire always waves off. Working for money is stupid and unnecessary; any materialistic wants and needs that plague him, he can get with the help of compulsion. Therefore, what’s the use in condemning himself the horrors of customer service or a constricting office cubicle? 

His best friend is halfway through his set when Harry’s device vibrates against the sticky surface before him, tittering fingers coming to an abrupt stop. He flips over his iPhone, eyes flickering over the screen, a coy grin spreading its way across his blushed lips. Y/N’s contact beams up at him in return. He’d set her profile as just her name alongside three disco ball emojis, for the sake of their little inside joke. 

I’m getting off work a bit earlier than I thought today and was wondering if you wanted to help me with my ceiling fan.

Harry bites into his bottom lip to muffle a chuckle, shaking his head lightly as he stares down at the comical request. 

That’s odd. Last time I was there, you didn’t HAVE a ceiling fan.

Y/N sits on her lunch break in the backroom of the cafe where she’s employed, a veggie wrap halfway suspended towards her mouth when Harry’s text bloops in, pointing out her embarrassing mistake. She blinks at his correction blankly, eyes closing in faint humiliation as her true intentions are now painfully clear. 

After a second of recollection, she types back some damage control, though it hardly has an impact. Harry’s already chortling to himself just thinking about how contorted her face must look at the moment.

I’m aware, thank you. I meant I wanted help picking one out. I’ve got a few tabs saved as potentials. 

He decides to be a little shit about this whole thing, continuing to mock her.

You could just send me the links right now and I can tell you which one I like. You know that, right?

Y/N knows that. She also knows, by the tone and texture of his response, he’d only mentioned that alternative to be annoying. He knows she’s not talking about ceiling fans, and he just wants her to chase after him. Unfortunately enough for Y/N’s pride, she’s more than willing to.  

I just think your opinion would be much more valuable and effective in person, since you’d be able to help me search for other ones at the same time. We’d cover more ground. Two heads are better than one!

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

I personally think so. A dynamic duo for the books, honestly.

A soft round of applause cuts through the air around the vampire, signaling the end of Mitch’s performance. Harry glances up to see his best friend mounting his guitar back into its case, smiling bashfully at the crowd and nodding his head in thanks to all their praise. Harry coins his luck; things couldn’t have wrapped up at a better time. 

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

Y/N stops mid-chew through a bite of her meal, cheeks puffed as the corners of her mouth twitch at his nerdy reference.

I’m off at 6:45. Should be home by 7. 

I’ll see you there, then. 

See you there. Also, why do YOU get to be Sherlock? Seems a bit sexist. 

Harry rolls his eyes at her quip, smirking to himself as he types out his final response.

Well, first and foremost, I’m literally English. Secondly, last time I checked, I’m always the one in control. And frankly, you seem to like it that way. See you at seven, darling.

And at seven on the dot, Harry’s outside her apartment. His friends would be amazed at his punctuality. He only shows it when it’s worth the trouble.

The creature walks up the steps to the mortal’s complex with his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, keychain tucked into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, and his tan Chelsea boots clicking against the cement ground. A light wind whips his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt against the broad muscles of his back, drawing a soothed sigh from his lungs. He loves the California weather. 

He gives her door three swift knocks with his ring-clad knuckles, stepping back from the entrance and clasping his large hands behind his back as he waits. 

When Y/N answers, Harry tilts his chin down a smidge, looking at her over the brim of his chic black glasses with his signature dazzling smile dimpling his cheeks. He lists his head slightly in a formal greeting. “Detective.” 

The girl’s irises flit up to the ceiling as amusement twitches her lips. She plays along. “Nice to see you again. Detective.”

She moves off to the side, beckoning him to come in and he gladly takes the offer, striding into the flat and down the narrow corridor he’s grown quite familiar with. Y/N follows him back into her living room, gaze quickly drinking up his appearance. He’s casual today— less jewelry, more comfortable clothes— and he works the normal fit as effortlessly as he works his fancy brands. Especially with those tight dark jeans. They hug his thighs in a fashion that should be illegal. 

Harry twists around on his heel to face her, reaching up to remove his sunglasses and tucking them along the collar of his tee. A handful of curls fall across his forehead, framing his face and sculpting his jaw, as usual. A sweep across Y/N’s physique tells him everything he needs to know. 

She’s still in her work clothes, clad in a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark skinnies similar to his. Her hair is down, though the strands have a dent that suggests she’d been wearing a ponytail. Her mascara is smudged a tad under her seemingly tired eyes, but her attitude is as bright and lively as always. She appears messy, but he likes it. It’s a type of unconventional beauty that’s natural and genuine, which he can appreciate.

He contemplates her with a certain slyness that makes her shift in her socked feet. 

“I got a message earlier. Sounded kinda frantic.” He drifts closer to the human, a sultry tension growing taut between them. He glances upward for an instant, as if recalling a thought. “Something about ceiling fans…?”  

Y/N chews into her cheek to keep from giggling, allowing him to press his chest to hers. He slowly begins to back her up towards the shabby couch, which has seen this interaction happen one too many times. “Yeah, I’m thinking of getting one. Figured it’d help. It just gets really hot in here sometimes, y’know?”

“Mmm…” Harry thrums in agreement, deep in the back of his throat. His hands crawl onto her hips and grasps them somewhat roughly, index fingers hooking into the belt loops of her jeans as he leans down to brush his soft lips over her own. She’ll never grow tired of the electricity that passes through them every time their mouths touch. It kindles her needs unlike anything else. “It does get pretty hot in here sometimes. Especially if you’re working up a sweat.” 

He pushes her further towards the sofa, movements gradual as she drifts backwards, careful not to trip her. She glimpses down at where their lips are flirting, breath hiccuping when he licks his lightly in anticipation, his tongue just barely grazing her Cupid’s bow. “Absolutely. A fan would definitely help relieve some of that stress.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nudges the tip of her nose with his own, feeling her grab at his biceps for security as he continues inching her backwards blindly. “It can work wonders for when you’re all pent up, too. Especially when you’re really tight, which I know for a fact you are.”

The backs of the girl’s knees hit the edge of the couch and she topples into its cushions. She sits up onto her elbows, sheer need inking into her irises as he patiently begins to undo his belt. His long, nimble fingers work with ease and he seems to be in no particular rush, which pricks at her nerves because she feels completely the opposite. She’d been thinking about him since Friday night— or rather, Saturday morning, when he had actually stayed for breakfast that time around. 

Y/N had sat on top of her small dining table while he took the seat before her shirtless, leaning forward with his arms crossed nonchalantly over her lap as she fed him bites of lemon blueberry pancakes. The pads of his calloused fingers had drawn random shapes across the warm skin of her thighs, attempting to cheekily slip beneath her pajamas shorts and he’d giggle boyishly around mouthfuls of food every time she would swat his hand away. He looked so fucking pretty that morning, with his curls tangled in tuffs and the vague imprint of her teeth scattered across his grinning mouth, angry red scratches decorating his bare shoulders. That wholesome yet dirty image had left her head spinning for days. 

The sound of Harry’s zipper ripping open blinks Y/N back into the present and she nearly gawks as he grabs onto the hem of his graphic t-shirt and yanks it over his head, arms crossing as he does so. He tosses it onto her playfully, laughing as she smacks it away from her face and gives him a deadpan look. Harry leans forward, propping his palms on either sides of her head and bracketing her in, the unmissable scent of his delicious cologne invading her senses as his dark tattoos ripple over the lean tendons of his stomach and arms. His strangely cold forehead flushes against hers and he nips at her top lip, tugging it between his teeth and releasing. His voice comes out as deep and hypnotizing as ever. 

“Get undressed for me. Want your thighs wrapped around my head.” 

Harry comes to find that for such a reserved girl, Y/N has a pretty intriguing sexual mindset. She’s open to a lot of stuff he’d never expect from a rural-town escapee. Her kinks surprise him, but pleasantly so, considering they cross over with a lot of his own. She’s into choking, which he adores. There’s nothing hotter than feeling her pulse slam against the palm of his hand as his array of rings mark into the delicate skin of her throat. She likes being restrained, which translates into Harry pinning her wrists above her head while he slams between her drenched thighs. It’s difficult to achieve that on the sofa, so they end up rolling across the rug on the floor, her legs tangled around his hips like a vine as he pants into her mouth, damp hair flopping over his forehead and tickling her eyelashes. Ideally, he would have used his belt to tie her hands to a headboard. If they were at his place, he would’ve just reached for the metal cuffs he has hanging casually off the railing of his bed, which he keeps there for easy access. But they’re in her living room, so he makes do with what he can. 

The vampire doesn’t stay over that night, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he promised Niall he’d help him out with a car issue. Apparently the motor is making a weird noise and Harry isn’t shocked one bit. Niall barely has the brain cells to be alive, much less to handle the upkeep that comes with owning a vintage vehicle. He thanks Y/N for a good time as he slips into his tight jeans and recovers his sunglasses from the floor, pulling his tee over the already fading hickies littering his collarbones, fitting his accessory into his sweaty curls. 

Harry leans down to where she lays limply, splayed over the couch where he had placed her after picking her up off the ground (only after he’d made her cum twice). He plants a nonchalant farewell kiss to her parted lips, thumbing over her bruised nipples jestingly and grinning into her mouth when she whimpers. “I’ll see you later, Watson. Let me know which fan you decide to buy.” 

Two days later, Harry’s phone chimes again, this time with the unique ringtone he’d assigned just for her. 

He’s relaxing in his bathtub, submerged up to his chest in hot water mixed with Epsom salts and jasmine bubble bath, his locks sudsy with shampoo. He’s in the middle of shaving his face, dragging the straight razor (his time in the nineteen thirties made him picky towards any other tool, especially those simpleton plastic ones) down his jaw carefully, making sure not to nick the little moles under the corner of his mouth. When his device goes off, he halts all his motions, glancing over from the hand mirror he’s holding before his face. He’d changed her contact name to Watson as homage to their funny little dynamic, but he’d kept the disco balls in their place. He respects the roots of their acquaintanceship.

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

He had a nagging suspicion he’d hear from her today. It’s another Friday night, after all. He’s just happy she’d texted earlier than last time so he can flake on his friends without forcing them to wait for an hour. 

Wow, you chose two day shipping? You must be itching to see me.

Don’t let it go to your head. The only thing I’m itching for is your professional opinion. 

Right. Well, me and my professional opinion are washing up at the moment so give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there, yeah?

Sounds good to me, Sherlock. 

Harry decides on an outfit that falls at the center of his dressing spectrum— something comfortable but not lazy. Something semi-formal. He doesn’t really have to impress her anymore (not that he had to try that hard in the first place) but he wants to look good, either way. There’s nothing wrong with showing off what he has, both physically and wardrobe-wise. He chooses a horizontal-striped fitted tee made of thick cotton, the lines alternating between brown, beige, and a light caramel. He tucks the shirt into a pair of mid-rise corduroy flared pants that are a dark mustard shade, shrugging on an olive green jacket with red and white stitch detailing along the edges, large images of cacti embroidered along its expanse. His pearls, cross necklace, and he opts out of his earring this time. Rings, vanilla chapstick, mint gum. Keys, wallet, starch white Vans. 

Before he knows it, he’s being roughly pulled into her home from his spot just outside her threshold, his cherry-lacquer nails carding into the silky hair along the nape of Y/N’s neck as his teeth skim over the hollow of her throat. The human grapples to push his coat off his wide shoulders, backing further down the small hallway of her flat and kicking the door shut. She holds his head firmly to the sensitive spot in her neck that he’d toyed with a week prior, and he can’t resist the way his eyes blink crimson— a hunting impulse, stemming from the sound of her blood rushing through her carotid artery. He hadn’t fed last time— vampires only need to feed once a week to avoid desiccation— so he surely intends to tonight. 

Harry’s hands fit perfectly around the dip of her spine, pulling her body tight to his as he paints sloppy kisses over her jugular. He gets his teasing words out in between desperate gasps and breathy chuckles. “And here I thought this was genuinely going to be about the fan.”

“Shut up.” 

Y/N makes a sharp turn, tugging him into her room instead of the living room and it dawns on him that this is the first time they’re going to fuck in her actual bed. All those instances of sleeping together and not once had they done anything on the piece of furniture that was intended for that sole purpose. It’s ironically hilarious and he voices that opinion as they stumble onto her mattress. 

“You know,” Harry murmurs into her mouth as she shoves him flat onto the rumpled sheets (she hadn’t made her bed this morning and that’s endearing, for some reason), straddling his lap as she hurriedly pulls his t-shirt out from along the waistband of his trousers. “Out of all the times we’ve done this— which is quite a few— we’ve never done anything on your bed other than sleep.” 

That’s a lie. He’s never actually slept in her bed. After staring at the ceiling blankly two weeks ago for about eight hours, he had been smart enough to grab his phone from his pants the second time around. He spent that stretch of time playing Mario Kart and watching Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix with the volume down just out of human earshot, so as to not disturb her slumber. 

Y/N ducks in order to drag her wet, pillowy lips down the butterfly inking on his tummy and over the spines of the two ferns on his pelvis, licking across his happy trail. He jerks in response, a soft grunt gurgling in his lungs as she uses her index finger to trace the outline of his hardening cock through the velvet fabric of his slacks. Her voice is distant, giggle breathless. “Yeah, you’re right. How counterintuitive.”

Harry swiftly pops the button of his trousers, helping her coax them down his legs, releasing a stuttery moan when she immediately bends down and mouths at his prick over his briefs. The soiled stain forming around the tip of his cock would be embarrassing if he didn’t know she found it hot. 

His tone is tight but humorous as she continues licking at him eagerly through his underwear, nails digging into his inner thighs. “Am I your first?”

Confusion flickers in her eyes for a moment before she realizes the joke. He’s referring to if he’s the first person she’s slept with on her new bed in her new home. “Yes, you are, actually.” 

Harry’s juts his bottom lip out into an overly-sweet exaggerated pout, talking in a honeyed drawl. “Aw, I get to christen your bed with you? We’re practically married now. When’s the baby due?” 

“God, you’re a moron.” Y/N bursts into a fit of laughter as she mounts back onto his lap, pinching at his torso in fake spite and feeling her insides flutter at the airy giggles that escape him. She gnaws on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, watching with hunger as he finishes removing his shirt and momentarily sits up to chuck it onto the ground over her shoulder. 

Harry falls back onto the mattress, folding his taut arms behind his neck, biceps flexing with the movements as his strong chest and toned stomach look as appealing as ever. She runs her palms over his tanned skin, feeling the sturdy muscle shift beneath her touch. Shit.

The immortal slinks his head to the side, eyes going half-lidded in suggestive mischief as he sees the way she’s objectifying him. He doesn’t mind; he actually lives for it. “Are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna fuck me?”

His lewd comment washes warmth across Y/N’s ears and spurs her into action. In less than a minute, she’s fully unclothed, bouncing on his cock with a type of need that boils the pit of Harry’s belly. His fingers are digging bruises into her waist, slamming her down onto his prick with enough force to make the old bed creak wildly. She may be on top, but he’s still the one pulling the strings. 

Y/N collapses forward, anchoring herself onto her forearms on either sides of his head, burying her face in his auburn ringlets. She bites onto her tongue, trying to keep a tab on the atrociously loud sounds threatening to spill from her mouth. They come out as broken whines instead, which Harry drinks up like a glass of aged bourbon. She fists at his roots, jolting with every thrust he gives upwards, her knees digging into his love handles to keep balanced. At this point, she’s barely riding him at all. He’s just ramming himself into her from below as he guides her hips and she doesn’t have an issue with that at all. She likes when he leads.  

His growl comes out low and raspy, riding on a moan, his warm, choppy exhales pebbling her bare nipples. “How’s that, darling? How’s that cock feel?”

Y/N nods her head frantically, not trusting her tongue to form an appropriate response. 

“Tell me.” He grits out through bared teeth, back arching a bit as he feels the knot of white hot pleasure in his stomach twist and turn. 

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

One of Harry’s hands coasts down the small of her back and onto her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. She yelps at the new sensation, pain and bliss intermingling. “Yeah, you fucking can. You will. Use your words. Tell me how much you like it.”

A violent shutter runs through Y/N’s limbs and she instinctively pushes back against his palm. Harry’s eyebrows kink in question as he feels her draw her face back from his hair. One look at her eyes tells the entire narrative: She wants him to spank her. 

Harry slowly lifts his hand from her skin, brows raising a bit higher for confirmation. Y/N smears his lips against his forehead and left cheekbone, bobbing her head desperately, whispering a tiny, “Yes, please.” that sends smoky tendrils of hot air cascading down his straining neck. 

When the vampire’s hand comes down, it’s fast and hard, his cold rings biting into her flesh and leaving welts, the sound echoing off the glossy walls and tall bookshelf in her room. The cry that betrays her could probably be heard down on the main floor of her complex. 

The shattered noise makes Harry sanity slip and he’s lucky she’s too lost in her own bliss to see the way his eyes glow dangerously red. “Fuck, you’re such a slut for it.” 

Harry suddenly boosts himself forward, toppling Y/N backwards until she’s the one wedged against the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, nestling her face into the crook of his sweaty collarbones, cracked cries pooling into the junction of his clavicle as he hikes her roughly up his thighs. He sinks further between her legs until he bottoms out with a loud garbled groan, pushing so deep she can feel him in the trench of her belly. 

“Oh my God, Harry— I— fuck, just—just— oh!”

His pace rises in intensity, strokes messy and unforgivable as he fucks her into the bed, the cracking of the frame warning him that it might give away. “Oh, so you liked that, did you? Like it when I call you a slut and stretch you out like one?”

Harry feels Y/N’s teeth rip into his shoulder in order to evade a scream; a strong shiver pin-balls down his spine as a result. Her voice is absolutely wrecked as she talks over her muffled mouth. “Loved it. Loved it so much. Want—Want more. Please, please, please.”

Harry holds her down firmly to the sheets, pounding into her with a form of unrestrained force he’s never exhibited. She just drives him to the brink like no one else has in nearly twenty decades. “Can you feel me in your tummy, pet? Can you feel how I fill you up?” 

“Yes, yes— it’s so good, Harry. You’re incredible.”

“Such a proper little whore.” He has to actively hold back from digging into her throat with his fangs, his eyes screwing shut in concentration as his orgasm begins to burn through his veins. “Begging me to fuck you like one, over and over. You’ve never had it this good, have you?” 

“N-No. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.”  

“Hands off.” 

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

Y/N obeys, throwing her arms above her head and letting them hang off the edge of the bed as he’d instructed. It’s not like he wants her to stop scratching down his back, but he knows that if she continues, he’s going to black out. He’s already teetering, obvious in the black webs he can feel materializing over the whites of his eyes.

“Ask for permission.” 

The mortal unclamps her teeth from his bruised shoulder and swallows heavily, her words sputtering out from how hard she’s jerking against the bed. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

“‘May I cum.’” The boy corrects, half because he wants to be a cocky ass, and half because it’s automatic. He was raised during an era where intellectual accuracy was of utmost value in society. It’s hard to leave those lessons behind. 

Y/N hiccups another mewl, hands curling into loose fists above her head as he continues to fuck her deliberately into the duvet. She repeats his phrase shakily. “May I cum? Please?”

Harry’s lashes flutter open and as soon as he sees her, all doe-eyed, covered in his love marks, with her bottom lip trembling...It’s like a switch flips. When he speaks, it’s soft and encouraging; a drastic contrast from his mood a few seconds ago. “Yeah...Yeah, baby, go ahead. Cum for me.” 

That night, as Harry lays there awake staring at that awful popcorn roof with the taste of her blood fresh on his tongue and her steady heartbeat throbbing in his heightened ears, he catches himself smiling in the dark. It doesn't have to do with emotions or feelings or any of that complicated bullshit. It just has to do with the fact that he found some consistency in his life, as unattached and materialistic as it may be. They don’t have a complex bond or a deeper meaning. They simply just coexist. They provide some common stability to each others’ lives and it helps keep an important balance. Stability is so rare to find, especially for an immortal who is condemned to witness the world constantly evolve around them while they remain frozen in time. Society will change, people change, appearances change, alliances change, and though it can be exhilarating, at times, Harry never truly has a say in it. He’s always just strung along for the ride.

This is different. It’s static, and that’s all he really needs it to be. Sex can be so emotionally messy if lines aren’t drawn and boundaries aren’t set. But with Y/N, it’s like they have a silent understanding— an unspoken agreement signed by both parties. It’s a notion that could have spared Harry his life in the past, and it’s an ideal that— even in death— took him centuries to learn:

Some people are meant to be loved, while others are just meant to be naked. 

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better. 

Specifically, Tuesday night. That’s when the sexting starts. 

It’s a pretty calm evening and Harry finds himself with nothing to do. Mitch is out with Sarah, who had come into town two days ago due to the band she’s touring with being on a three week break. She’d said she wasn’t staying for long— maybe a week, because she has plans to visit some other bloodsucker friends in Canada. Even though Mitch tries to hide it, Harry can tell he’s bummed about Sarah’s short visit. The older vampire is good at hiding his emotions, but Harry’s known him for so long that he could read Mitch’s mood even if he was blindfolded and gagged. 

The jade-eyed boy had been honest with his best friend, asking him what the point was in continuing to see someone whose depth of interest in the relationship wasn’t as developed as his own. Mitch had simply shrugged one shoulder and told Harry that he wouldn’t understand. He mentioned something about how eventually, the freshblood high would wear off and Sarah would find herself wanting to settle down somewhere with someone she could trust for the rest of eternity. Mitch explained that he cared for her enough to wait until then. 

His best mate had been wrong. Harry does understand. He understands the concept of chasing after someone who, in the end, didn’t want anything to do with him. He understands it a little too well, sadly. He figures that’s the same fate Mitch is bound to suffer, just on a less extreme level. 

But then again, Harry’s perception of love is majorly skewed, so who is he to judge?

With Mitch tied up with Sarah (probably literally, though Harry doesn’t dwell on that; it’s none of his business), his options dwindle to the rest of the crew. Niall and Xander had invited him to a concert they were attending, but Harry politely declined the offer. The musicians were some wannabe indie band and Harry would rather swallow a nicotine addict’s blood than listen to a couple of morons sing in cursive. Adam had suggested he tag along with him, Ny-Oh, and Charlotte to a new art exhibit that had opened up in the next town over. It was a thirty minute drive, so it wasn’t that bad, but Harry declined that invitation, as well. He loves art, if the giant collection on his wall has anything to say about it, but he doesn’t get on well with Ny or Charlotte. They say he’s “too much of an arrogant dickhead” to be around for an extended period of time. They’re right, of course, but it still hurts. Plus, Ny has a mullet and Harry knows he wouldn’t be able to withhold from making a Billy Ray joke. It’s best he stay away, lest she end up with an achy-breaky heart.

So that leaves him here, all alone at eight P.M. on a Tuesday, plopped on his couch in nothing but a pair of maroon plaid boxers as Hamilton plays on the ninety inch flatscreen mounted on his glass wall. He had left the curtains open, not really caring that he’s practically naked. The sun’s already set and it’s almost pitch black outside; plus, he lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the condominium complex. The only living being risking an eyeful is a peepy pigeon. Even then, Harry’s more than happy to put on a show. He’s confident enough in himself that nudity is practically second nature. His friends can attest to that. 

Harry lays across his leather sofa with a large checkered throw cushion snuggled into his side, one of his hands slung across the backrest of the couch as the other remains submerged wrist-deep in a bag of Veggie Straws. His socked feet are propped up on his round marble coffee table, ankles crossed and posture anything but eloquent. The apartment is silent, except for the musical streaming through the speakers of his television set and the gentle pattering of rain just outside his glorified window pane, accompanied by the faint flickering of the city lights below. The atmosphere of the room is relaxed and cozy and it lulls his soul in a manner he can’t put into words.

Harry has always liked the rain. Ever since he was a child, he would sit by the small round window of the attic room he shared with his older sister, watching it fall from the sky in sheets of glittering sapphires, soaking into the dry ground and turning it into a slush of dirt he would later sneak out to play in. When he got older, he would prop his shoulder against the doorframe at the back of his father’s blacksmith shop and gaze at it, mesmerized by how it would trickle down the streets of the public market, washing away all the grime that came with a bustling city’s reputation. Sometimes he would stand in it, feeling its cool touch run down his arms and soak into the back of his sot-covered work shirt. He enjoyed how it would cleanse the sticky sweat from his face and neck, its gentle nature leaving him feeling like he could float through air. Then his father would call him back into the store and playfully scold him for allowing himself to get drenched, warning that his mother would kill him if he caught a cold. 

Harry’s changed a lot since then, he knows that, but it comforts him that his love for rain is the one aspect of his personality that two hundred years of Hell had failed to take from him. 

The melodies swimming out of his TV reign him back in from memory lane. 

Harry’s not really one to enjoy musicals, but back when Hamilton had first hit Broadway, he’d used his persuasive supernatural abilities to sneak into one of the first showings. He’d been curious as to what all the hype was about, and the play did not disappoint. The songs were catchy, the acting was good, and the characters were brought to life through raw emotion and comedy. He respected that. And the plot of the story itself resonated with him deeply, as well. A protagonist that rose from nothing, fell in love with the wrong woman, and made terrible life choices that seemed correct at the time, which would all eventually lead to his death. It hit a bit too close to home. 

If he had a dollar for every time he’s seen it since it had come out on Disney+, he could probably pay rent himself instead of compelling others to do it for him. 

The play is halfway through one of its most famous ballads when the monster’s phone dings with a familiar tune. A smirk is already etching itself across his face before he even unlocks his device. 

I need interior design advice. 

I’m still a little sore from our last help session. How’d you bounce back so quick?

Funny, but I need ACTUAL interior design advice this time. 

Harry’s brows furrow in mild confusion and slight disappointment. He draws his hand from the junk food container, dusting off the crumbs. Oh. 

Genuinely? 

Yup!

He guesses he’ll give it a go. He does have pretty exquisite taste; the modern gothic aesthetic of his condo proves that. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

Alright, shoot. 

Y/N releases the breath she’d been holding in. Thank God he’s agreed to help. As much as she’s ashamed to admit it, Harry’s really the only person in LA that she deems relatively close to a friend. She hasn’t managed to mesh well with her coworkers much, despite the fact that she’s been trying extremely hard. She just doesn’t wanna force herself into unfulfilling fake friendships for the sake of having people to flaunt. It’s not right and she knows she’d grow to resent it. 

So instead, she’d reached out to the one California resident who doesn’t make her skin crawl. 

Whew, okay, thanks in advance! So I went out yesterday and got a new bedspread and I wanted some help choosing a new accessory to go with it, which is going on my wall. 

Harry’s ears perk up and his back straightens at her statement. Could she finally, by the grace of fucking God, be getting rid of that shitty tapestry? 

Well, let me see it, then. Don’t keep a man waiting, I’m dying to play Property Brothers over here.

A picture comes through of the two new accessories Y/N is referring to and the way Harry’s face drops instantly is almost comical.

Which tapestry fits better? I’m thinking the Van Gogh style painting of a lighthouse. The blue goes well with the dark turquoise of the comforter. But then again, the forest canopy has those pretty exotic flowers that compliment the coral stitching. I can’t decide. 

The vampire’s face pinches in disgusted horror as he blinks down numbly at the image on his screen. He’s going to be sick. Those Veggie Straws are about to make a hideous comeback. 

…two new tapestries? Did the other one rip or…?

What? No!! I just saw these down at the thrift store and thought they were cute. Why? Are they really that bad??

They’re not just bad, they’re worse. He’s going to ask her to blindfold him next time he visits. 

They’re…kinda immature, dove. I just thought you’d go for something cooler this time, like a vintage painting or a couple vinyls to mount on the wall. 

Immature? 

Oops. He should have picked his words more carefully. Now he’s gone and offended her and she’ll probably bite down the next time he puts his—

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

I know you didn’t just call ME immature when you compared me to a cream-filled donut, Harry. 

The playful tone in the text delivers a wave of relief that is almost as pleasurable as what lies between Y/N’s legs. 

Can I speak freely for a second? Full disclosure, no consequences?

That preface makes me think you’re about to chew me out.

I’ll be gentle, I promise. I know it’s not our usual dynamic, but I’ll give it a go.

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks. 

Alright, go head.

I just think tapestries are kinda stupid. They scream “confused teenager trying to find myself.” But that’s just my opinion. I’m only telling you so you know that I’m probably not the best bloke to go to with tapestry inquiries. 

Harry watches as a read receipt stares up at him for a few seconds. Just when he thinks he might have truly upset her this time, her message bubble pops up. 

So...the one I’ve had hanging in my room the last three times you’ve been over…

I had to actively restrain the urge to strangle myself with it.

Y/N breaks out into laughter. The image of waking up to Harry laying facedown on her bedroom floor, balls naked and mummified within a sunrise tapestry...It’s sending her. 

Well, you know what? That’s not fair! You can’t judge my house when I haven’t even had the chance to judge yours. 

Harry nods once to himself in surrender, reaching up to finger-comb a few rebellious curls out of his eyes. She makes a valid play. 

Fair enough. You’ll have to come over and give me your opinion sometime.

I’d be honored to. Now, would you be so kind as to put your own personal bias aside this once and help me choose which one to put up. I promise I’ll spare you any more tapestry-related problems in the future. I’ll remove it from my customer contract.

Harry sighs defeatedly. He can’t believe he’s giving up his integrity for sex. 

Fine. Send me a picture of both of them up on the wall. It’ll give some perspective. 

Y/N giddily obliges, deciding to send a video instead. That way, she can get all of the angles in one go rather than having to send multiple pictures. 

Harry waits patiently, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth as he taps his foot against the coffee table to the tune of Wait for It, which is playing in the film that has now become the backdrop of his night. When Y/N’s next message comes through, he’s mildly surprised to find it’s a video. He clicks play, watching intently as she circles the two pinned tapestries slowly, making sure to get a proper view from all sides. By the time the thirty second clip is coming to an end, Harry’s leaning more towards the tropical canopy painting. It’s not as loud and she was right about the flowers matching the stitching on the duvet. 

He’s about to tap back “the forest one” when something flashes across the screen that makes him choke on his snack, launching him into a coughing fit.  

It’s within the last three seconds of the video and if he had cut it off in order to text back, he would have missed it. But he hadn’t, and now it’s burned into the back of his eyelids, causing a buzzing sensation to string right to the area between his thighs.  

The last few frames of the video, Y/N had lowered her phone from the position she’d been suspending it, probably thinking she had already stopped filming. She hadn’t. And because of that, Harry gets a full frontal view of her body, covered in nothing except a pair of lace panties and a mid-thigh oversized Avengers t-shirt. The entire screen fills with bare, silky skin and raunchy lace and he can feel his fangs poke into his tongue. 

Harry’s not a pre-teen; he’s not going to drool over seeing a pair of legs. What really gets to him is the fact that it appears Y/N still has a few hickies across the inner area of her thighs, which have failed to fade as quickly as the others. They should be gone, given that anytime Harry feeds (like he had the last time they’d slept together), he always gives her a bit of his blood to heal. Meaning, normal bruises like that should be gone. Maybe he just hadn’t given her a high enough dosage, or maybe he’d marked her more than he remembers, but either way, the stains are there.

The vampire ogles at the paused image with a dry throat and wide eyes. Just seeing her like that, dressed in comfy yet effortlessly sensual attire with no bottoms on whatsoever, freely flaunting his love bites around her apartment, probably looking at them in her mirror, thinking about how his teeth had felt grazing her skin…

It’s enough to pop a stiffy into his briefs. 

Harry glimpses over the top of his phone, swallowing thickly at the large bulge beginning to tent his boxers. His socked toes curl as he feels a longing throb begin to swell at the pit of his clenching stomach. Great. This is just fucking perfect. 

He attempts to tap back a reply, but his hands have started quivering slightly, clumsy thumbs ruining his message to the point where he has to retype it three times.

The forest one. I agree with what you said about the stitching. 

Okay, thank you so much! Your input is highly appreciated, as always.

The immortal finds himself gnawing at the inside of his cheek, weighing on whether he should mention the little softcore porn moment she’d unknowingly shot, or if he should just let it slide and go take care of the issue that is literally weighing on him— he can feel it getting heavy against his thigh. 

His fingers seem to take on a mind of their own, printing out a quick sentence and hitting the send button before he can rethink his motives. 

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

Uh no...It looked pretty okay to me while I took it. Why, do you need a different one? Was the lighting too dark? 

The fact that she sent it by accident only adds to the appeal. She’s such a good girl. So fucking innocent and sweet, she could practically give him a toothache. 

Do me a quick favor and rewatch it all the way to the end. I think you’ll be surprised with what you find.

Y/N leans back against her bookshelf wall, chewing on her bottom lip as a sly grin ticks the corners. She doesn’t have to rewatch the video. She’s fully aware of what she had done, which had been completely on purpose. She’s only playing dumb to see his reaction, getting off on how flustered he seems to have become. Yes, her intentions for contacting him had originally been purely for his opinion on decor. But when she saw the chance, she decided to jump headfirst and take it. What are friends with benefits for if not for times like these, when you’re too lazy to come over but need a bit of relief? 

The human allows a full thirty seconds to pass, simulating that she’s watching the video, and then thoughtfully taps out her response.

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

Harry shifts in exasperation against his sofa, the radiating in his abdomen crawling up to his chest and down to his knees. He needs to take care of himself now.

It’s fine, babe. You just might wanna be more careful, cause this time around you got lucky that it was me and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Could go south if it were someone else. 

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly at his scolding, but continues to play the clueless act, curious to see where it’ll take her. 

You’re absolutely right, I’m so sorry. 

Harry clears his throat, flinching as he feels a soft twitch run up the length of his cock. He exhales tightly, trying to steer the conversation into a lighter mood. He doesn’t want her to feel bad; it’s not like he’s angry about this. He’s hot and bothered and needy, but not mad.

I just think it’s funny you exposed the fact that you go around your house without pants. 

Oh, fuck off! No one ever wears pants around their own house, especially if they’re alone. It’s one of the laws of physics. No human resistance, no pants. 

Harry glances down at his body symbolically, where he’s clad in only his underwear, as well.

Touché.

Exactly. 

A pause befalls the conversation as both parties fish for something new to say. The situation’s become less lively and more intense now and neither are sure how to navigate without crossing a line. In a surge of courage, Y/N decides to just directly communicate her intentions, praying that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. 

I have an idea, just hear me out. For the sake of evening the playing field, I think that since you saw me pantsless, it’s only fair that I see you the same way. It balances out, right?

Harry’s jaw drops in an open-mouthed simper, impressed by her blatant suggestion, but also by how smoothly she had delivered it. He mumbles his next words to himself, voice amused and somewhat awed at how she had managed to spin this to her benefit. “You clever little minx. Bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

Y/N purses her lips, shrugging her brows cheekily.

Maybe.

The vampire scoffs, taken aback not only at the ploy she’d pulled off, but at how unapologetic she is about the whole thing. It’s hot. 

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack. 

The photo that comes through makes Y/N choke on her spit. It’s not anything too revealing, but it packs a lot. Literally. 

It’s a pretty casual picture, and she gets the feeling he took it as so just to be a tease. In the frame, all she sees is a snapshot of Harry’s lap, thighs straining against the flimsy material of a pair of crimson tartan boxers, the large tigerhead tattoo he totes somehow prominent in the low lightning. Of course it stands out, though. That’s to be expected; his thighs are thick in the most satisfying fashion and they’re one of his most defining features. She can also see the bottom half of his lean tummy, the cutoff being the crest of his belly button. His fern inkings are peeking out of from below the waistband of the Calvin Kleins, dark and matte on his lightly bronzed skin, and she spots the nonchalant position of his crossed ankles in the background. 

As appetizing as every little detail is, the centerpiece of the portrait is the obvious bulge pressing into the fabric of his briefs. The outline is so prominent, the picture borderlines on graphic. His cock looks pretty as ever, even when it’s covered; the thin underwear leaves very little to the imagination. 

Y/N has to bite down on her tongue to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Wow, okay, well...Your picture was much more explicit than my video. That’s not fair at all. Throws off the equilibrium we were trying to establish. 

Harry chuckles aloud, shaking his head in amazement at how well she can bend the game to her will. Three weeks ago, when he’d first laid eyes on that shy girl at the club, he would have never expected her to be so bold. Now, she has him wrapped around her pinky like a string.

You’re absolutely right. My apologies. Maybe you should send one similar so we can even out the stakes. 

You read my mind.

Y/N’s next picture causes a hiss to stream through the cracks of Harry’s teeth, eyes glinting red.

It’s a picture taken on top of her bed, the angle set from above. She’s laying on her side, her torso twisted so that her backside is in the shot, her huge tee pulled tight against her waist so it creates an enticing cinching effect. Her thighs are clasped together, the collar of her shirt pulled away just enough that he can see where the valley of her chest begins to curve, and the cheeky lace panties are working utter wonders for her ass. He can’t stop staring. He physically can’t pull himself away, his eyes bouncing across every pixel, attempting to commit the picture to memory to keep it locked in the back of his brain forever. 

Y/N awaits anxiously for his reaction, biting into the pad of her thumb as the seconds list by, wondering if he had enjoyed the nude or if he was just sitting there judging all her flaws. It’s been so long since she’s sent a risky photo like that, she can’t help but stress. Sharing your body with someone digitally is almost as intimate as real sex and it comes with similar worries and insecurities. Was the angle good? Are her stretch marks unattractive? Are the dimples along her backside gross? Is he second-guessing their arrangement? Is he wishing they hadn’t met?

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

God, you look stunning. Like a proper fucking dream.

All of her concerns immediately disintegrate, replaced by an odd sense of pride. She’s happy that he enjoyed it, and she’s thankful for the caliber of his response. Most men don’t care to comment that nicely, if they comment at all, and Harry’s enthusiasm only excites her further. She wants to keep going. 

You look pretty fucking good yourself. Wish I could just kneel between your thighs, take you into my mouth, and make you feel good for hours. 

Harry struggles to get saliva down his parched throat, her words bouncing around the inside of his skull, sending a current of bliss directly to where he needs it. 

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

For hours, Harry. I’d literally just sit between your legs and let you fuck my face again. Let you use me to make yourself cum.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry’s broken whine echoes off the tall walls of his home, one of his big hands finding a path to his curls and tugging in desperation. He needs to keep composure. 

Harry’s next snapshot comes through and Y/N has to screw her eyes shut for a second to brace the bolt of electricity that zips down to her core. 

The boy’s thighs have parted wider, his feet now down from the table, knees hanging off the edge of the sofa. His free hand has delved below his briefs, pulling them up just enough to show a tad of the neatly trimmed area beneath. His fingers are cupped over his cock, hiding it from plain view, but the imprint of his knuckles on the fabric suggest he’s gripping it tightly. The longer she looks, the more she notices— specifically, a dark damp patch spreading at the middle of his boxers and she knows damn well what it is. The fact that she’d got him riled up enough that he’s leaking through like that...She can hardly breathe right. 

Shit, you look so good. How do you always look that fucking good? I just want to feel you stretch me out while you moan into my mouth. 

Harry slowly starts pumping his palm up and down his cock as he rereads her words, catching his lower lip between his teeth, his naked and flushed chest stuttering. He doesn’t want to be the douche that tells her to send another picture, but he really needs her to. He wants to see what she’s doing, how she’s fairing. Wants to know if he has her as fucked as she has him right now. 

It’s almost like they share a telepathic link because not even five seconds later, another beautifully filthy photo is decorating his screen. 

This time around, Y/N has decided to fully lay on her back, spreading her legs open and drawing her knees up slightly so that her thighs are not only flexing, but displaying all the love bites he’d left only a few days prior. They’re all different shades of purple and brown, scattered over the satin suppleness of her skin, painting a canvas of the heated night they’d shared. It’s art at its most prestigious, if he’s ever seen it. And she has her hand ducked below her panties, the outline of her fingers situated right over her clit. 

Harry’s own hand instinctively tightens around his length, pulling a weak groan from his parted lips. He throws his head back against the backrest of the couch, bucking into his palm and teasing his forefinger over his bubbling tip. He spreads the precum all over the sensitive head, whimpering when the draft from the air conditioning caresses it and sends a quiver toppling over his shoulders. 

Fuck, she’s driving him mental. There’s only one way to take care of this effectively, despite their distance. 

I’m going to call you.

Y/N gulps heavily, licking over her chapped lips and feeling her pulse jump at the realization that she’ll be getting to hear his throaty voice coax her through an orgasm. Not only that, but she’ll get to hear him cum, too. She’ll get to hear every shattered gasp and needy mewl, almost as if he were pouring all those sounds of pleasure right into her ears in person. 

The mortal’s heart hiccups when his contact pops up on the Caller ID, phone vibrating insistently. After a deep breath taken to ground herself, she slides her shaky thumb over the glass, slowly bringing the device up to her ear. Her voice is soft and timid as ever, a tremble running through its undertone. “H-Hello?”

Harry’s words come through the crackling speaker as dark and smoky as whiskey, pouring into her mind and intoxicating her as easily as the real liquor would.

“Flip onto your stomach and take off the lace. Now.”

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Request from @iwannagotospaceforever​: Could u do a Fred Weasley x reader maybe with prompt 12 and 13???

12: “I’m Fine!” “Y/n, there's blood coming out of your head!”

13: “You’re cute when you want to stab me”

A/N: I love this!!! I hope you guys enjoy, feel free to leave me any feedback or requests you might have <3

Prompt: You and Fred have been friends for a while, you’ll hang out together on school grounds, pull pranks with Fred, and just seem to get along well, unless its on the quidditch pitch, where your competitive natures can get a bit out of hand.

Warnings: Reader is not in the same house as Fred (Gryffindor), Swearing, mentions of blood, Frenemies type shit, Fluff, terrible quidditch writing

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You walked onto the quidditch pitch, resting your broom against your shoulder as you swung your other arm, excited for game day. You were determined to win this round, Gryffindor having won the last couple games, and you were not going to let your house fall into the same fate. You had been getting up early the past two weeks, trying out new flying techniques, working on your stamina, and practicing chaser moves with Fred. 

You and Fred have been friends since fourth year, having met in Snape's potions class when your concoction may have blown up in Snape’s face. After that you were constantly hanging out. Fred joined in of course, pulling pranks and just talking about random things in general, but for some reason, you and the older twin just had a connection. It might have had something to do with your competitive natures constantly keeping each other on your toes.

You spotted him on the other side of the field with George, each carrying their beaters gear and walking to the Gryffindor rest area. His eyes met yours and a smile spread across his face as he waved. 

“You’re going down” He mouthed, his hand that was once waving now having a thumb pointing downwards. You smiled back.

“Fuck off” You mouthed back, going to give him the bird before you suddenly remembered Dumbledore was watching, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

Fred made a fake sad face, making you laugh a bit before returning the gesture. Suddenly Lee Jordan's voice rang through the bleachers.

“Good afternoon everyone and welcome to the third game of the season, today we have Gryffindor against (Y/H). Lets have a good game, and may the best team win.

This signaled for you and the rest of your team to get on your brooms and fly up to the starting point, forming a circle with the other chasers on your team as well as the chasers on Gryffindor.

There was a bit of silence, before madam Hooch opened the trunk, releasing the bludgers and the golden snitch, before finally throwing the Quaffle into the air, officially starting the game.

After a few minutes you had finally gotten your hand on the quaffle, headed to the goal, and towards Fred and George. You saw George moving to block your left, and moved right, now having to face Fred. You had been practicing with him for the past few weeks, so you knew his weak spots, but he also knew yours. You faked going for the far right goal before quickly turning and going through the middle, scoring your team a point.

“That's ten points to (Y/H)!” Lee’s voice rang out, causing cheers and boos to ring through the crowd. You flew up beside Fred, having a moment before the next play started.

“You need to up your game Weasley” You said jokingly

“Please I saw you from a mile away” He joked back, suddenly making you think that he might have let you score.

“I swear to God Weasley, if you are going easy on me im going to kill you” You said, giving him a look, before starting to fly off, but not before Fred got in the last word.

“You look so cute when you want to stab me!” He said, causing you to look back at him and giving him a pose, causing the both of you to laugh, but secretly you had butterflies going insane in your stomach.

Did Fred Weasley just call you cute? You weren’t blind, you thought the twin were quite attractive, but every once in a while, you couldn’t help but think about Fred specifically, about how the sun caught his hair, or how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or how he was able to laugh every day, but also made sure that you felt heard. 

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts however when you made it back to the starting circle, putting your focus back into the game.

A few rounds later and you were 20-20 with Gryffindor. You had just gotten the ball again and was headed towards the goal, Fred facing you, a smirk on his face which only motivated you more. You were only a few seconds to scoring the goal, when Fred's face changed from irritating smugness, to worry. You didn’t have time to make out what he was saying before the right side of your head suddenly erupted with a sharp pain, and you were spiraling towards the ground.

The fact that you were still on your broom didn’t make the fall to bad, but before you knew what had happened, you were laying on your back looking at the sky.

“Looks like one of (Y/H) chasers got a good knock by one of the bludgers, that gotta hurt” Lee Jordan said

Madam Hooch was knelt beside you, asking you about the pain when Fred suddenly landed next you, running over and kneeling by your side.

“I know you said to not go easy on you but I swear it wasn’t me” He said, quickly, causing you to laugh a little.

“Fucking coward” You mumbled suddenly realizing that the game was still going on.

“Fred what are you doing go play I’m fine!” you said, finally sitting all the way up, your head spinning a bit.

“Y/n, there is blood coming out of your head!” Fred said, making you lift your hand to poke the side of your head, only to pull it back to see blood. Before you could say anything else to get Fred back to the game, Lee Jordan's voice rang through the crowd.

“Harry Potter has captured the Golden snitch! Gryffindor wins!” Lee said, causing the crowd to cheer.

“Well that sucks” You groaned. All the practice, only for the golden boy to catch the snitch AGAIN. You reached out your hand to Fred, motioning for him to help you up, which he took. However as soon as you were on your feet your head started to spin, but Fred saw you sway and caught you.

“I want you to go straight to the medical wing to make sure you don't have a concussion, Weasley can you take them?” Madam hooch said, making you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need to-” You started, not thinking your injury was such a big deal

“I would be happy to” Fred said before smiling at you, you glaring at him in return.

A few minutes later and you were sitting cross legged on on of the bed in the hospital wing, Fred making it his job to annoy you while  Madam Pomfry to checked on you.

“Be honest doc, how long do they have” Fred said, causing you to roll your eyes and swat his arm, which caused him to laugh.

“Y/N will be living for a long while, but you do have a very mild concussion, so I don’t want you to do anything labor intensive for the next week.

“What? But quidditch!” you practically yelled, horrified at the news.

“I don’t want to hear it, now at the end of the week, I want you to come back in so we can see how you’re healing, as for the rest of the day I want you to relax” Madam Pomfry said, giving you a sympathetic look before leaving to check up on someone who had a bad encounter with the wrong Polyjuice potion.

“It could be worse” Fred said, trying to lighten the mood, causing you to glare at him.

“How could it be worse?” You asked

“Well you could not have me to keep you company!” Fred said, causing you to groan.

“Death would have been a kinder fate” You said, before quickly laughing at Fred’s shocked expression. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding” You said, moving to get up, which Fred helped you do without fully realizing it.

“Are you sure you want to stick around? I can’t do any strenuous activities so I’m basically the most boring person in the world right now” You said, causing Fred to shake his head.

“Impossible, you could never be boring, but I have an idea if you’re up to it?” Fred asked, quirking a brow which made you suspicious, but you agreed non the less, nodding your head.

“Excellent, adventure awaits!” He said, before walking off while still having his arm around you.

A while later and you were sitting outside by the black lake, underneath a tree. You had been spending the last few minutes throwing rocks in the water, just watching the ripples.

“You think the squid is mad that we keep throwing rocks in his house?” You asked, causing Fred to laugh a bit.

“Why do you think I brought you along? If he suddenly wants to kill us I know you're going to be way slower than me.” Fred laughed, laughing even louder when you shoved his shoulder.

“Typical, you only bring me places to benefit your secret agenda” You joked, leaning your back against the tree.

“Nah, you're to pretty to sacrifice” He said, suddenly tensing up realizing he just said that.

You were feeling something similar, your face heating up as you shook your head, trying to dismiss the comment as something platonic. He just felt bad because you got hit.

“Fred, I am in dirty quidditch clothes, with crazy hair and a bruise on the side of my head, I wouldn’t describe myself as pretty right now” You said, thinking he would make a joke and that would be the end of it.

“Well I disagree” He said, the sincerity in his voice surprising you, you turned to look at him to see he was already looking at you, before looking down at his hands.

“You really scared me today” He started “When I saw you get hit, and saw you falling, I was so scared. I kept thinking of how it happened, how I could have stopped it, how you were probably out cold, but then I got down there, and you were the same you always were, calling me lame for not intentionally trying to kill my friend at quidditch” He finished, his joking tone returning a bit.

“I think the term I used was coward” You said, smiling a bit.

“Yeah, that I am, not because of quidditch though” Fred said, smiling a bit, but you weren’t, stuck trying to think about what he could be talking about.

“Fred, you pull pranks on professors for fun. You stole your parents car, for fun. I don’t need to say all the crazy things you’ve done to know you’re not a coward. Why do you think that?” You asked.

“Because I never told you about how I really felt” Fred said. Suddenly the butterflies in your stomach returned, causing your face to heat up.

“What?” You asked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

“I like you Y/n, I have for a while, but I haven't said anything because I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship” He said, still not looking in your eye and instead looking out on the lake.

“Well then I guess where both cowards” You said, causing Fred’s head to suddenly snap to look at you, which made you laugh a bit.

“What?” It was now Fred’s turn to look shocked. Instead of answering, you just shake your head and put a hand on his cheek, closing the space between you two and connecting your lips. Fred took no time to respond, moving his hand to gently cup the side of your face that wasn’t bruised. We stayed like that for a moment, before finally pulling away for air.

“Well, that was unexpected” Fred said, making you laugh.

“What that I like you back or that I’m such an amazing kisser even with a head injury” You said, making him laugh in return.

“Speaking of which, maybe we should stop, Pomfry said no strenuous activity and I wouldn’t want to-” Fred started but you knew he was joking.

“Just shut it and kiss me dumb ass” You said, smiling as he reconnected your lips again, this time the kiss going a bit further, his tongue sweeping your bottom lip. You opened your mouth, your hands moving to his hair and-

“Oi no snogging with a concussion!” George suddenly yelled from a bit a ways, Oliver and some of your team mates following.

“Mind your own business” Fred said, making you laugh.

“And here we are, trying to be good friends and make sure you haven't died or something” George said, shaking his head in feign disappointment. “This couldn’t have waited a week?”

“No!” You and Fred said in unison, causing the group to laugh before making their way back to the school, wanting to give you two some privacy, but not before George gave Fred a quick thumbs up, glad that he finally made his move.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t wait to tell me” You said once everyone was out of earshot.

“Me neither, except we still have to wait a week to-” Fred started, a suggestive smirk on his face.

“Fred Weasley I swear to God!” You yelled swatting his chest, causing him to fall into a fit of laughter which you quickly followed. Maybe getting hit by a bludger isn’t the worst thing that could happen.

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Ah, to be hit in the head by a giant ball and be comforted by Fred Weasley. The Dream. TBH I know this ending is trash! But still I hope you enjoyed it, let me know if you have any recommendations or feedback! Also @iwannagotospaceforever​ I hope you liked it!

[kazuharem]

“The Most Important Person” ↠ Lucien x MC [SMUT]

AO3 Link: Here

Pairing: Lucien x MC (Female)

Warnings: overstimulation, unprotected s&x, multiple orgasms, jealous!Lucien

Description: Jealous Lucien smut from “True Love Date.” That’s it

Summary: Lucien shows her just exactly who the most important person to him was.

Word Count: 4,013

Author’s Note: This is my entry for Day 6 of Kinktober. I used this Kinktober 2020 Prompt

Day 6: Free Use

Also, requested by Icy~ ^-^ Inspired by this little section from my "Partners in Pleasure" fic: The Lucien who had slammed her into the wall with a dangerous “Tell me,” hissed angrily through clenched teeth when she was asked about the most important person in her life. The Lucien who had tortured her so ardently that very night as he grit out a “You don’t want to make me jealous again, kitten,” before thoroughly ravaging her.

I'm pretty sure every Lucien stan who is a writer have written some version of this. This is my take. Also, I've taken "overstimulation" as in "fucking brainless" which also translates to "too many damn orgasms" in my book. Enjoy!

[DISCLAIMER] As always, the characters, art, music do not belong to me. The only thing I own is the plot. Lines that are taken directly from the "True Love Date" will have * in front of the text.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰ 

“If you don't mind, I'll walk that line Stuck on the bridge between us Gray areas and expectations But I'm not the one if we're honest But I wanna sleep next to you And I wanna come home to you I wanna hold hands with you I wanna be close to you”

Troye Sivan – “Talk Me Down”

*“So, Professor Lucien, is there anyone you’re crushing on here?” Kiki asks Lucien amidst boisterous cheering.

Lucien chuckles as he looks over at the girl, whose cheeks were blazing scarlet. “Yes,” the answer slips easily and naturally out of his mouth.

She ducks her head then, trying to tug her hand free from Lucien’s grasp, but he holds on tight. The crowd of her coworkers cheer and spin the bottle again. The neck of the bottle comes to a stop in front of Lucien again and everyone burst into loud exclamations once more.

“Who is it? Who?” Everyone clamors around Lucien in excitement, trying to force the answer from his lips.

He gazes back at her and her eyes skips from him, staring pointedly at the wall behind him. Lucien smiles amusedly and downs the shots, much to everyone’s disappointment. A wave of warmth spreads from his throat, blossoming outward from his chest.

Her coworkers continue to play until the bottle stops in front of her. “Finally, it’s the boss’s turn!” Kiki grins widely as the mood suddenly changes, everyone leaning forward in anticipation.

“Tell us who is the most important to you and why,” Willow announces after a dramatic pause. She winks at Kiki and adds, “Be specific.”

Lucien could hardly admit to himself how eagerly he awaits her response, stiffening up and holding his breath.

She sighs and chances a peek at Lucien, cheeks and ears turning a rosy shade of pink as she prepares herself. *“Because I got to know this someone…” she begins shyly, blushing harder. “He…showed me a brand new world. He’s gentle, but not pretentious. A mystery, but also clear as day.” She starts slowly, but her voice begins to pick up enthusiasm as she goes on. “He can see all of my thoughts and he teaches me the ways of the world.”

Lucien’s hand tightens on his glass as he desperately tries to swallow the prickly feelings that were threatening to engulf him. For some reason, he didn’t like where this is going. There was a thought that nagged at him in the back of his mind. He had seen her chatting cheerfully with that officer…that-Gavin. Had heard her burst into excited laughter when she was on the phone with Kiro. Had witnessed that damn CEO, Victor, picking her up in his stupidly expensive sports car. Could she be talking about any one of them?

She leans forward unknowingly, as she continues, *“When I meet setback, he’d guide me with patience and understanding.” Her voice has a tender lilt to it.

Lucien savagely downs the contents of his glass and sets it down before he could crush it. The warming effects of the alcohol disappears and all he could feel is the thudding of his heartbeat roaring in his ears. The only thought that rages through his mind is who, who, who?

*“He is…very important to me,” she concludes softly with a small sigh, a rare smile breaking through her features.

Her coworkers collectively release their breaths.

*“That was visceral! I bet the person isn’t here or else Boss wouldn’t have said all that!” Someone chimes teasingly.

“Yeah! You know how shy Boss is!” Another person laughs noisily.

The comments grate at Lucien’s ears and he grinds his jaw. A different kind of warmth, one that is white hot, courses through his veins.

“I really want to know who it is!” Kiki wonders aloud.

Lucien silently takes another shot, trying to quell the rage that was slowly building inside him. His vision starts to blur, but he pays it no mind.

She laughs quietly and shakes her head. “Let’s just continue the game,” she hastily directs their attention back to the bottle on the table.

Coming here tonight…was a bad idea, a thought pops up unbidden. Lucien tosses back another shot, missing the worried glance she throws in his direction.

The party continues, but Lucien’s mood worsens, along with the drunkenness of the crowd.

At some point, she slips to the bathroom and when Lucien couldn’t take the burning question any longer, he says some stupid excuse to her coworkers and leaves to go find her. The question bores a hole in Lucien’s mind as he stalks silently along the dimly lit hallway.

Who is this important person?

His fists clench and the scowl on his face deepens. The alcohol he had drunk earlier blurs all thought, all reason.

Remember your purpose, Ares. A voice whispers in his mind, but Lucien shoves it aside. He could care less about his purpose at this moment.

A sudden movement catches his eye and before any reasonable thought occurs, he’s pushing the girl against the wall, his hand grabbing her wrist.

*“What are you doi-“

*“That person who’s most important to you…Who is he? Tell me,” his mouth is moving before his brain registers the words. A look of confusion spreads across her face and Lucien presses harder against her. “Tell me!” Nothing but fiery rage runs through his entire body.

Her expression softens, “It’s you…” she says, but Lucien presses harder against her, only hearing a soft buzzing. “Lucien,” she calls his name and her words finally gets through the buzzing in his ears. “It’s you I was talking about,” she murmurs, smiling. “You’re very important to me…” Stunned, Lucien loosens his grip on her as he backs away. He hears his heartbeat thudding in his ears, a roaring that reverberates throughout him and she continues. “Everything I said was meant for you to hear but you misunderstood…”

The relief flooding through him was instantaneous and he nearly stumbles. There is nothing in his eyes except for the sight of her smiling face. “I’m sorry…did I hurt you?” Lucien asks as he drops her wrist.

“A little…but I’m okay,” She smiles, and Lucien rubs her wrist gently.

“I’m…sorry,” Lucien pulls her into his arms as he breathes a sigh of relief into her hair. It should’ve unnerved him with how relieved he felt, but Lucien couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Shall we go?” She asks, voice muffled into his chest, “I think I’ve had enough.”

He agrees readily and ignores the whispers of “Stupid. You’re a fool, Ares.”

The girl in his arms robs all reasonable thought, but Lucien thinks to himself that he prefers it that way as she slips her hand into his. His only colors in the world, he would follow her blindly wherever she goes.

They say goodbyes to her coworkers and Lucien fights the urge to claim when he sees a male coworker smiling at her. Kim, Lucien remembers.

The two of them chat a little too long for Lucien’s liking, and he walks up to the pair, offering the singer a tight smile. “Shall we go?” He asks the girl, his hand naturally finding purchase on her shoulder.

She nods cheerfully as she waves goodbye at Kim and allows herself  to be led away by Lucien. Lucien clenches the hand not holding hers.

Fool, a voice creeps up in the back of his mind again, but Lucien ignores it.

Lucien is silent in the cab ride home and he can feel her sneaking glances at him, questions as clear as day written on her face.

He could sense her reluctance to part as she squares her shoulders, physically preparing herself to say goodbye when they reach their respective doors. Gently, he places his hand on her shoulder, thumb rubbing a soothing circle as he maneuvers her to face him. “Come inside for some tea to sober up. You’ve drank a lot tonight.” Her eyes instantly light up and Lucien’s mouth curls up in an answering smile. He lets go of her shoulder to unlock his door. She follows him inside eagerly.

No sooner did the door close behind her, Lucien is tugging her into his arms. “Lucien, wha-mmph!” Her question is muffled by the sudden press of Lucien’s lips. “Lucien!” She gasps against his lips.

“Shh,” Lucien murmurs, taking her lower lip and biting down gently. “I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I saw you today.” The sudden confession renders her speechless, but she accepts his kiss, earning a pleased sound from Lucien. She tastes the sweetness of the wine he drank earlier, and a heady feeling fills her veins, as if she could get drunk on his lips alone. He kisses her slow and sweet, pulling her snug against his chest. “I’ve missed you, my little butterfly,” The hushed whisper floats between the languid presses of their lips.

“Lucien…” her arms automatically snake around his neck, pulling him closer to her. The tantalizing way she whispers his name sends heat rushing through Lucien’s body. “I’ve…missed you…too.”

Her admission makes him pause. Pulling away slightly, he peers into her beautiful eyes and swallows hard when he sees nothing but the reflection of himself. Her eyes had only him. Lucien tries to push down the prickly feelings he had been feeling throughout the entire night, but to no avail. He wanted to claim her, to make her his, so that she wouldn’t ever look at another man. “Butterfly…” he lets out a breath, the small puff of air hits her lips and she shivers. “Won’t you give yourself to me tonight?”

She gazes upwards at him, and Lucien knows he’s hopelessly and irrevocably fallen into her trap.

So much for the feeble attempt to stay away.

“Yes…” her voice is quiet, but Lucien hears it all the same. He tucks a finger under her chin and leans closer, their breaths mingling.

“Then would it be okay for me to have you however I like?” His words ghost over her lips and he could see her lips tremble from the sensation.

Her cheeks flush and Lucien’s eyes were dark. The unmistakable hunger swimming in his irises makes her swallow. “Have me…Lucien…”

With that invitation, Lucien surges forward, slotting his lips against hers. His tongue prods the seam of her lips, asking for permission. When he was granted, his tongue enters to taste her mouth as he slips a leg between her thighs, trapping her against the door. “Will you give all of you to me?” Lucien asks, fingers caressing her face.

She nods breathlessly, “Yes…I’m all yours...”

It was like a switch had flipped. Lucien grinds his leg against her as he presses a hungry kiss against her open mouth. She gasps at the friction and Lucien slips a hand under her blouse, teasing and tracing tantalizing circles on the heated skin. “That’s good to hear, kitten,” he growls against the shell of her ear before licking at her lobe, “Because you sure didn’t act that way earlier.” His lips trace blazing kisses along the span of her neck and his hand ducks under her skirt. “You’re already so wet,” he whispers silkily. “Naughty girl, don’t you know what I’m about to do to you?” He curls his finger into her as she arches against him with a whimper.

“Lu-Lucien,” she stammers as her knees buckle. She holds onto Lucien’s shoulders for dear life.

“Shh,” Lucien shushes her by laying the slick finger he had just buried inside her against her lips. “Look how drenched you are for me.” And only me, he adds silently as he dives back to attack her mouth, picking her up when he did so. He maneuvers them expertly into his bedroom, setting her down with care on the bed and undresses her reverently. Lucien shrugs off his turtleneck and takes a moment to admire the sight of her naked body, a stark contrast against the black sheets. “Look at you,” he sighs as he settles between her legs. “Look at how perfect you are.” Her entire body flushes the prettiest shade of pink and she averts her eyes. “Don’t hide from me,” Lucien chides as he kisses a trail up her thigh, across her stomach, between the valley of her breasts, up, up, and up until he comes to a stop in front of her lips. She sucks in a shaky breath and holds it as he watches her, violet eyes nearly black. “Do you trust me?” His question is electrifying, causing the blood in her veins to heat up. She nods slowly.

Much too trusting, Lucien thinks, if only she knew…

He pushes these thoughts away and presses a quick kiss against her lips before undoing his belt. Before she could ask what he’s doing, she feels warm leather wrap around her wrists. “Lucien…” Her hands are bound with his belt and he pulls her arms over her head.

“I’ll make you feel good, kitten,” he promises as he trails fiery kisses across her collarbone. “Like no one else ever did,” his words are muffled by her skin. He presses open-mouthed kisses on her chest, and she inhales. Lucien smiles as he slowly takes one of her breasts into his mouth, tongue running circles around the nipple. He makes a noise of approval when it receives sufficient stimulation. Lucien descends upon her other breast and she moans breathily. “You sound so nice,” he murmurs, voice muffled by her breast as he teases the sensitive skin, and it pebbles under his touch. He moves downward, tongue washing a lazy stripe across her belly and she shudders. “I’ve thought about this all night,” Lucien whispers when he reaches her inner thighs. “Actually I’ve thought about this for many nights. But particularly tonight,” he laps close to her heat and her breaths hitch. “I’ve thought about the way you would taste; how would you look when you’re in the throes of pleasure, pleasure that I have given you.” He doesn’t give her time to react to his words before he buries his head between her legs

“Lucien!” The sudden movement makes her jerk in surprise, but the belt prevents her from releasing her arms. Lucien holds her down as he pushes his tongue into her, and she moans helplessly.

“You taste absolutely divine, kitten,” his low voice is electrifying and sends sparks throughout her entire body. “Just like the way I imagined.”

She bucks into his mouth and he growls approvingly, fingers digging into her hips. His tongue delves faster, and her moans get steadily louder. “Lu-please, please.” She’s begging and Lucien doesn’t hesitate to suck at her swollen clit with relish.

Lucien works his tongue sinfully and she’s positively keening, “I need you to come into my mouth, kitten,” he says as her thighs begin to shake, squeezing his head. “Come on.”

He nips at her clit and all of a sudden, she’s coming hard, Lucien’s name spilling out in a broken cry from her lips. Lucien licks her quivering slit obscenely as she turns into a trembling mess.

“Beautiful,” Lucien breathes. He doesn’t give her time to relax before he’s sliding two tapered fingers into her wet folds, tongue lapping lazily at her sensitive nub.

“Lucien-ah!” She arches off the bed as he furiously pumps his fingers in and out of her. Her wrists strain against their bindings only to struggle helplessly with nowhere to go.

“I have to say, this is better than my imagination,” Lucien’s voice is deep, seductive, and lazy even.

“Lucien!” She whimpers and her walls clench on his fingers.

“You want to come?” Lucien tongues her clit, “Then come for me, beautiful girl.”

As if his command was a spell, Lucien watches, enraptured as she falls apart again, her fluttering walls clenching and unclenching his fingers. Her eyes rolling back in pleasure, her body arches only to fall back down onto the sheets. Lucien’s name is the only thing on her lips as she pants, dazed and quivering.

He quickly sheds his pants and crawls back to her, taking the incoherent girl in his arms. “You’re perfect,” he whispers before flipping her onto her stomach. “You’re perfect in every way.” He cages her in with his body and presses soft kisses along her shoulders. “Beautiful. I am forever awed by you,” He punctuates every word with a kiss.

She feels his throbbing length at her backside, and she whimpers, “Lu-Lucien…”

“Tell me you want me, kitten, tell me you want only me.” Lucien whispers into her as he hooks an arm under her stomach and holds her upright against him.

“I…want only you,” she gasps, hips unconsciously grinding against his cock and Lucien hisses.

“Good,” Lucien sounds pleased, “You don’t want to make me jealous again, kitten.”

That was the warning she receives before Lucien sheathes himself fully in her wet folds and she moans lowly, arching into Lucien’s chest.

“God…” Lucien bites back a curse as he begins to move, “You feel so good.”

She whimpers at the praise, hips struggling to keep pace with Lucien’s thrusts. “Lucien…Lucien…”

“Let it out, kitten,” Lucien growls into her ear as his other hand reaches between her legs, “Let me know who’s making you feel this good, who’s fucking you like this.” Every savage roll of his hips accompanies every word.

“Lucien!” She cries out, knowing that every thrust brings her closer to destruction.

“That’s right,” He hisses as he laps at her pressure point, “Only I can make you feel this good.”

The girl is sobbing and nodding deliriously as Lucien rams into her. “Yes-yes… only you… Lucien…” She’s chanting incoherently. “Please, please,” she doesn’t even know what she is begging for at this point.

Lucien pinches her swollen nub and suddenly the coil in her stomach springs free. She’s crying as she comes, her orgasm ripping through her body in pure pleasure. She falls against Lucien’s chest, the only thing keeping her upright was Lucien’s arm around her waist. “Beautiful,” Lucien whispers as he sits back, taking her with him. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now, undone because of me.” He leans back and spins the boneless girl to face him. “You’re absolutely perfect, beautiful butterfly,” He murmurs reverently. “You’re mine. Mine alone.”

She only nods as her chest heaves. “Y-yours…” she chokes out.

Lucien rearranges her legs, so she was straddling him and pulls her tied hands to rest on his shoulders. Without warning, he grabs her hips and slips his cock within her folds again. A sharp cry escapes from her as he brings her hips down on his.

“Lucien… please,” she’s moaning as he repeatedly thrusts upward into her, fucking hiccupping sobs from her.

 “Come for me, kitten,” he growls as he holds her limp body against his chest. She’s too far gone to respond and shakes her head weakly as her body trembles from Lucien’s merciless onslaught. “You can do it,” he grits out, “Come for me. Only me.”

“Lu…” she chokes out, unable to form complete words. “Please,” The plea falls on deaf ears as Lucien relentlessly impales her on his cock. “I can’t…” Her words end with a broken sob.

“You can,” Lucien hisses as she clenches deliciously around his cock. “You’re doing so well, taking my cock like this…” He whispers praises as he continues to abuse her oversensitive bundle of nerves. “Won’t you come for me, butterfly? I want to feel you coming on my cock.” Lucien’s fond voice belies the filthy words.

“Lucien…Lucien…” she babbles his name in incomprehensible moans, head lolling to the side. Lucien follows her head and captures her gasping mouth in a heated kiss.

“Come for me, butterfly. Come. For. Me.”

And suddenly her body seizes before she trembles violently, the full force of her orgasm tipping her into Lucien’s chest as she twitches from the sheer pleasure coursing through her body. Lucien languidly fucks her through her orgasm as he presses kisses into her temple. Gasping, she struggles for breath, utterly boneless.

“You did such a good job,” Lucien groans into her hair as his hips slowly comes to a stop. He sits up and gently flips them so she’s on her back. Lucien removes the belt binding her wrists together. “You…are so beautiful…” he whispers as he leans down to press his lips everywhere he can reach. Lucien cups her face carefully, as if afraid she’d break, his thumbs swiping across her tearstained cheeks. “You are entirely perfect…So kind…So caring…You leave me in absolute awe.” The praises rain down like his kisses.

Shakily, she opens her eyes as Lucien’s words register themselves slowly in her dazed mind. He watches her, a look of unmistakable tenderness is on his face. “Lu…Lucien…” she pants as she reaches her freed wrists towards him. He leans in closer so she can wrap her arms around his neck.

“Do you know why I was away for all these weeks?” Lucien murmurs as she tries to kiss him sloppily. She mouths aimlessly at his chin, his neck and Lucien continues. “It was because I was scared and overwhelmed of my feelings for you…”

The hushed confession bade her pause, her eyes widening. “Lucien…” she whispers shakily and raises a hand to cup his face.

Lucien nuzzles into her touch, pressing soft kisses to her fingertips. “I’m…not a good man,” he says haltingly, and she opens her mouth to object, but Lucien shakes his head at her. “I’ve never pretended to be a good man in the first place…I didn’t have…good intentions….I don’t deserve you…”

“Stop,” she says, and Lucien closes his eyes, sighing. “Lucien. Stop.”

“You’re much too trusting,” Lucien murmurs and there is a touch of self-deprecation.

“Don’t say that again,” she implores, “You know how I feel about you. You know I made my choice.”

There is a light chuckle as Lucien opens his eyes again and she is floored by the infinite amount of love that pools in those violet irises. “You didn’t let me finish,” Lucien smiles, reaching up to caress her hair. “I may not be a good man, but what I feel for you…is absolutely sincere. That is something you can count on.” He says those words with finality, leaving no room for argument.

“Lucien…” she whispers and her eyes are teary again. He presses his forehead against hers, inhaling her scent.

“I’m sorry I got carried away…The thought of someone else having you…the thought of you looking at someone else…” Lucien’s voice drops off apologetically.

It’s her turn to shake her head as she embraces him tighter. “Lucien…I’m yours…I’m all yours…”

Lucien’s voice is hoarse with emotion as he speaks, pressing her into the mattress gently, “Then allow me to have you, to love you…”

“Absolutely,” She whispers against his lips and he begins to move, their fingers interlacing with each other as he sets a slow pace.

With every thrust he drives into her, she feels the amount of Lucien’s love for her. With every kiss he gasps against her lips, she knows that the kisses were cementing Lucien’s love, sealing his love deep within every inch of her, a secret branding that only the two of them know.

She comes first with Lucien’s name leaving her lips and she holds onto Lucien as he pants. His hips stutter to a stop as he gasps her name, spilling heat deep within her.

“I love you…I love you…” She murmurs when Lucien slumps forward into her, panting into her neck.

He shakily reaches for her as he rolls onto his back, taking a moment to catch his breath. And when he speaks, his voice is full of raw and pure emotion.

“I know I don’t deserve you…I’m not going to be any greedier and ask for forever, but…can I trouble you to stay with me at least a little longer?”

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

For more of my work: 📖

[shadow--writer]

And I'm Gonna go There Free, Like the Fool I am and I'll Always be

How chaotic can one Shade with the ability to word get? just learned to do a fancy thing too look at me go

The answer is very. Will I make a series after this? Who knows it’s very tempting. God I should make a post about this au as well lol. I pounded this out in one sitting btw. (song btw). 

--Maeve x Lucas (WITH some Amani x Zora in there too bitches look at me)--Modern au but not fight club lol my own kinda modern au-ish--4.2k words holy shit--

TW: none!

Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, tHEY ARE SO CUTE OMFG, Amani is a shithead, good lord I hope I got Zora’s character right, dancing, how much domestic fluff can I fit into one fic, FRIENDSHIP, dorks in love

In which dance lessons take a...different turn. Also Amani breaks into Maeve’s apartment and steals a barstool.

@mineshaft-birdie @dela-png

The day was a slow one. It was midafternoon and they had just finished up spring cleaning. 

She swayed her hips, humming along to the music playing. Lucas watched her from his spot on the couch, his off tune hum making her smile. She arched her back, leaning back with another sway. Her fingertips brushed the floor before she brought herself back up to her feet. 

He clapped making her giggle. “Amazing,” he said, a smile clear in just the tone of his voice. 

“I can teach you, you know,” she said, looking back at him. He held out a hand for her to grab, leading her to sit down on his lap. She straddled his hips, tucking her feet under his thighs. “How to dance, I mean,” she said, kissing his cheek. 

“You’ve seen me dance.”

“Exactly. You’ve seen me cook and yet you still try to help me. I want to do something for you in return.”

“Like teach me to dance?”

She leaned back, smiling. “Yeah! It’s fun. It’s great to let off steam, and it’s quite a workout. Besides I just...want to see you dance.”

“...I look like a dead fish a little kid is playing with.”

“Whoa that was specific.”

“...mmmmhm.”

She snorted, kissing the tip of his nose. She was not going to ask.

She pushed up off his lap, shrugging her jacket off. He let out a low whistle, making her laugh as she tossed the jacket aside. 

“Didn’t know it would be this kind of dancing.”

“Oh hush.” She shot him a look over her shoulder, throwing her hair up into a messy ponytail. “Can you help me move our furniture? Unless you want to move to my studio?” Her aerial silks studio. Only reason she bought this apartment. 

That and the nice view (along with walking distance to work but shush). 

“...I might wreck your TV.”

“Studio it is then. If you want to get changed that’d be good too. Jeans aren’t uhh...the best to learn a dance in.”

He let out a low sigh before getting to his feet. “Studio?”

“Yeah I just need to clean it up a little.”

“...you’re not gonna back down from this, are you?”

“Nope! Now go change.” He ruffled her hair against her protests, steps heavy as he walked to their bedroom. “The shirt is optional!” she called after him. 

He snorted, yelling back. “So is yours!”

She bit her lower lip to keep from grinning, fixing her ponytail. She grabbed her phone, going over into the studio to pin up her silks. On her way she picked up a little green box from the table in the hall. That same table Lucas kept bumping his legs against. 

She giggled at the thought, feeling nerves and butterflies flutter in her stomach as she looked at the box. She told Amani about what she was planning to do and today felt...right. 

Shoving it in her pocket she went to pin her silks up. 

He walked into the studio by the time she was finishing pinning the last one. She knew he had walked in due to the laughter. 

So yeah maybe she was on her tiptoes on a ladder. 

Har de har har.

“You know if you needed help you could’ve just asked,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. She turned to look at him with a little huff, the ladder shaking under the abrupt movement. 

“Well I’m sorry I was cursed with being short.”

“You sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m doing just fine thank you,” she sniffed, turning back around. She finished pinning the last silk, climbing down and putting the ladder back where it was. Smoothing down the front of her crop top she turned to look at him. 

“Okay now. That’s done, we can get into it!”

“...hurray.”

“Oh come on a little more pep please.”

“...hurray?”

“....that’ll have to do for now. Now where do you want to start?”

“Something easy?”

“...hmm wanna try mambo?”

“Is it easy?”

“Well not easy easy but it’s not that complicated. We can start with some of the simple movements, like the forward back step. If you’re feeling up for it I can also teach you how to dip.”

“Dip?”

She pursed her lips, walking back over to him. He had shed his jacket and opted for sweatpants. She was a little disappointed he still had his shirt on but she could wave it off. They both were in socks, making mambo a little harder but she was up for the challenge. 

“Here I can show you…” she said, grabbing his hands. He just watched her as she shifted one of his hands up on her shoulder, the other on her upper arm. She did her best to keep her hands on his upper back, leading him into a small side shuffle to lead into the dip. 

Keeping her body straight she shifted her weight into dipping him. His hands gripped her arm and shoulder, eyes widening. 

Good gravy was he heavy. 

“The hell are they feeding you?” she breathed. 

He blinked before laughing. “Ouch firefly, that stings.”

She rolled her eyes, lifting him back up. She let out a little huff of air as he kissed her softly. After pulling away he stood upright. “So that’s a dip. Think you’d be up for learning it?”

“It doesn’t seem super hard.”

She brightened. “It really isn’t! When you do dip me though, don’t lean close, it hurts my back.”

“Ah! Gotcha.”

“For now it’s forward backward mambo steps!” She grinned a little, adjusting the ribbon in her hair. He stared at it for a moment, the deep blue bringing out the darkness of her hair. She smiled, grabbing his hands again. 

“Where’d you get that?” he asked. 

“Aislin bought it for me a while back. Haven’t had the chance to wear it.”

“It’s beautiful on you.”

“O-Oh,” she stuttered, her cheeks warming. She ducked her head a little, embarrassed. She still wasn’t used to his out of the blue compliments even after being with him for so long. 

He coughed, squeezing her hands. “Dancing?”

“Yes! Right! Dancing!” she chirped, head snapping back up. Her brows were set with determination. 

She was going to get him to dance well. She would or she’d die trying. 

“So...where do we start?” he asked, just standing there awkwardly. 

“Well first with foot movements. Then hand placements. Put it together. Forward and back are the easiest steps, but it gets harder with more complex hand movements and spins.”

He looked horrified, she quickly cut back in. “For now though, forward and back. After you learn to dip me maybe we can learn side to side.” 

He nodded, a stubborn gleam sneaking into his eye.

“So first is how you move your feet.” She let go of his hands, moving to a spot in front of him. “We start on the second beat, and when we dance together we start on our right foot.”

She stepped forward on her right foot, brought it back to the middle with her left, back behind her, and finished by bringing it back to her left in the middle. 

“Oh that...doesn’t seem all that bad.”

“When you move faster it gets a little tricky, but yeah! Not super complicated. When you add the hips in…” she repeated what she did, but swaying her hips side to side along with her arms. “Now you try it with me!”

His movements were a little jerky, and he kept overstepping the middle but…

“You’re doing great!” she said with a large grin, backing up to set up music on her phone. Soft riffs of a guitar played as she shuffled her playlist.

“Can we...try it together?” he asked, eyes lighting up at her praise. He held a hand out for her to take. She walked closer to him, his hand warm and all encompassing around hers. 

“Sure. Arms.” He squeezed her hand once before letting it go and held his arms out. She lifted his left arm up, lacing their fingers together. She moved his other hand to the small of her back, resting her arm on top of his, not quite reaching his shoulders. One issue with a height difference was that dancing would be a pain. 

“Like this?” he asked, fingers tapping on her back. She squirmed a little at the touch, making him smile.

“Yeah! But not as tense,” she said, starting them off. He fell into it pretty quickly, what she dubbed his ‘focused face’ coming back into play. She felt a dopey smile climb across her face as she looked at him. 

When he got closer she shifted him back with a small glare. “Dance space, my love.” She let go of his arms to gesture. “This is mine.” She made a circle with her arms, he did the same. “That is yours.”

She grabbed his hands again. “No looking down,” she said with a giggle. “My eyes are up here. You can do this.”

They quickly fell into a rhythm, he was catching on quickly.

Then his arms got too loose. And he got very grabby, his hands traveling down south to her butt. 

“Noodle arms!” she gasped, moving her arm from his shoulder to swat his hand. “No wandering hands!” He pretended to pout, falling back into the dance again. 

He went in for a kiss, she moved her head so he got her chin and neck. His lips traveled down her neck as she squirmed, pushing at his chest with a laugh. “You are invading my dance space!”

She let go of him, pointing to her space again. “This is my dance space.” She pointed back to him. “That is yours. Let’s try it again.”

They went back to it for another moment, her eyes darting to her feet, before he tugged her closer, tilting her head up. “Don’t look down,” he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Look right at me.”

She snorted, stretching up on her toes to kiss his neck. “Hey now! Dance space!” he said with a laugh, pushing her back into position. His hair was escaping the little ponytail he had tied at the nape of his neck. She fought the urge to run her hands through it as it curled around his face in an adorable way. 

After their laughter quelled they settled into the movements. His tongue peaked out from between his lips as he concentrated, brows furrowed. He was slowly getting the loose but structured part of the arms, them moving in sync. 

Then ‘Toxic’ started blasting. She started humming along, lip syncing to it. He snorted, losing the rhythm a little as he watched her lose the mambo, moving her shoulders to the beat.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“Very much, but you’re still ridiculous.”

She arched her back away from his hands, spinning out of his grip, lip syncing but with passion. He laughed, moving back closer to her. She held and shook her head at ‘spinning round and round’ as he hooked his fingers through the belt loops of her pants. 

“Do you feel me now?” she sang softly, smiling. He rolled his eyes once before kissing her. She giggled, swaying back and forth in his arms. 

“What’s up bitches!” someone yelled from behind them. They jumped apart, Lucas yanking his hands out of her belt loops, her tripping over her own feet, face burning crimson. Toxic still merrily played behind them. 

“Amani, you spooked them.”

“Good.”

Maeve spun to look at the intruders. Ah. Of course. Amani. Oh but Zora was with her. That was great. The only voice of reason in this fucking group had just broke into her house. Ah yes that bode well. 

Maeve rubbed her temples before cracking an eye open. “How the fuck did you get into my- ...is that a barstool from my kitchen?” 

“Yeah,” Amani replied with a shrug. 

“...you just broke into my apartment, grabbed a stool from my kitchen, and brought it into the studio with you?”

“Well there’s no other fuckin places to sit in this studio besides the floor and I’m not an animal!”

“...yeah. Sure.”

“Maeve!” Amani gasped, offended. 

“Well sweetheart, we did break into her apartment.”

“Not my fault she keeps the spare keys by her bed!”

“So that’s where they went!”

“...Zora I can’t believe you fed into this,” Lucas said once he got himself together from the embarrassment of being walked in on. “I thought you were the smart one.”

“Oh no I’m the one who acts smart but is the worst out of all of you.”

“WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?!”

Amani had set the stool down and was sitting on it the way a man on the subway would sit. 

Aka Legs spread and looking like she was going to melt right off of it. Maeve could feel a headache coming on. 

“Was bored,” Amani offered. 

“...so you decided to commit a crime?”

“Yeah.” 

“Amani I’m gonna need a better answer than that for I am three seconds away from throwing you out a window.”

“Ouch Maevey that hurts.”

“One...two.”

“Got bored and decided to say hi. ‘Sides I brought the keys back.”

Maeve turned to look at Zora. Not the answer she wanted but it would do. “And you. What is your excuse?”

“Amani dragged me along. I was also bored.”

She turned to look at Lucas. “So these are the people we surround ourselves with?”

“Apparently.”

“Look without us you two would’ve been gettin it on in the studio. Woulda made a mess,” Amani cut it. Maeve felt her ears go red.

“We were not,” she sputtered. “I was teaching him to dance!”

“...uh huh.”

“That’s it!”

“It’s true! She’s teaching me mambo.”

“...can he actually dance it though?”

“Amani I’m hurt by that statement.”

“Well can he?”

“We’re learning forward backward steps Amani. He can’t mess those up.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Amani I thought we were friends!”

“Exactly.”

“Amani!”

Maeve snorted, looking over at Zora who was trying not to laugh. “Bored you say?”

“Well that and Amani just wanted to see you two.”

“...see us?” Lucas asked. “Why?”

“Uhh to congratulate the happy couple on their engagement, duh.”

“Amani!” Zora hissed, gesturing to both of their very empty ring fingers. Amani didn’t see her girlfriend’s increasingly panicked hand movements. 

Maeve felt her heart stop and sink straight into her feet. All the colour drained from her and Lucas’s faces. 

“...engagement?” Lucas peeped. 

Amani watched their reactions, face growing more confused. “What? You did ask her, didn’t you?”

“...no.”

Amani’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Oh SHIT.”

Zora smacked her forehead. “Oy vey,” she muttered. “Amani, baby, I love you but-”

Maeve didn’t hear the rest of her sentence, she only turned to look at Lucas. He still looked broken, she swore she could hear dial up streaming from his ears. 

“Darling?” she asked softly. He turned to look at her, cheeks reddening. 

“I have something to tell you,” they both sputtered at the same time.

She blinked. “You first.” Again said at the same time. 

“No you,” she said.

“No no, yours sounds important.”

The box in her pocket grew heavier with every heartbeat. God damnit Amani. 

“Well I...um,” she looked away, fidgeting. She never really felt nervous like this but...it was a big moment. 

She turned to shoot a low glare at Amani who only offered up a small nervous smile. God fucking damnit. 

“Well I was planning on doing this while we were alone,” she huffed, looking back at Lucas. She shoved her hand in her pocket, trying to fight the stutter out of her voice. “But apparently we had two guests coming over.”

“Just get it over with- OW!” 

She looked just in time to see Zora elbow Amani in the side. Amani muttered bitterly about how that ‘fuckin hurt’. Zora only shot Maeve a smile and a thumbs up. 

While she appreciated the sentiment…

She looked back at her boyfriend, letting out a low sigh. “I love you.”

“...uh oh.”

“Oh hush you.” He chuckled. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. “Fuck, I love you,” she whispered. He blinked, almost shell shocked. “I want to marry you,” she blurted out. 

“Yeah I love you- w-what?!”

She pursed her lips, letting out a little sigh. “Goddess I’m no good with words. Sometimes I wonder how I even got to date you. I’m blunt and mean and rude and vulgar but…” she dragged the box out of her pocket. “I managed to fall in love with a dumbass and a dork so it isn’t all that bad, right?”

“Maeve?”

“Holy fuck Lucas she’s asking you to spend the rest of your lives together!” Amani yelled from where she was sitting. 

No yelp, in fact Zora was nodding. The look Maeve shot her said all she needed to know. “What? Ami isn’t wrong.”

“You two are the worst,” Maeve groused. 

“You want to...marry me?” Lucas finally let out. 

She opened the box she was holding, rolling her eyes with a little smile. “Well yeah. After I kill Amani.”

“HEY!”

The ring itself was simple. It was only an engagement ring after all. Her grandfather made it a while back when she brought up the whole ‘getting married’ thing (he talked her ear off too. Her phone bill spiked). It was a silver band with a deep green stripe running through the middle. The green shimmered into something lighter when she moved it. 

“That’s funny,” he said, hand disappearing into the void that was his sweatpants’ pocket. He could shove both her and his hand in that thing. Of course she was jealous of it. 

He pulled out a ring. Not just any ring but her mother’s wedding ring. 

She felt tears well in her eyes. She had told him about it a while back when they first started dating. She didn’t know he remembered. The ring was a simple small silver band. It was braided into a celtic knot with a little turquoise at the top where the knots met. 

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.” He shot her a lopsided grin, her heart skipped a beat. “I uhh...I’m also no good with words but I love you, firefly. Of course I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I fucking love you giant.”

“There she is. I was getting worried with all your sappy talk.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughed. 

“But I didn’t get an answer.”

“Neither did I.”

“Well mine is ‘of fucking course’.”

“Hey you stole my answer!”

He chuckled as she slid the ring onto his hand. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. My answer is yes.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“You stole what I was gonna say.”

He laughed again, kissing her knuckles as he slipped the ring onto her finger. “You love me.”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t.”

“FUCKIN FINALLY!”

“Amani you’re the one that almost ruined it.” “I DON’T CARE!”

A little sigh. “Sometimes I wonder why I love you so much.”

“For my stellar personality obviously.”

Zora giggled, Maeve turned in time to see her plant a kiss on Amani’s cheek. “That and just because I love you.”

“I cannot believe Amani almost ruined this,” Lucas muttered. She turned back to him, laughing as she got closer. She grabbed his left hand with hers, liking how their rings glittered when they moved. He ran his thumb along her knuckles, pausing at the jewelry. 

She lifted her head up, him leaning down to kiss her. 

Then Amani started screeching like an alarm. “THIS IS THE PURITY UNTIL YOUR WEDDING NIGHT ALARM. No handholding of any kind.”

Maeve giggled, joining in on the tomfoolery. Lucas sighed. “No need to worry, I am pure. We haven’t even shared a kiss.” 

Oh yeah they all knew that was a fucking lie.

“Oh? Not one kiss?” Lucas asked, grinning. 

“Nope. My lips are innocent. Saving them for my wedding.”

He bent down close, surprising her with an open mouth kiss. She let out a little squeak as his tongue tapped her teeth once before he pulled away. “That good enough for a first kiss?”

“Well it was supposed to be on my wedding night but…” she smiled, fiddling with the ring on her finger. “It’ll do.”

Amani let out a dramatic gag. “You two are disgusting.”

“Imagine what they’d be doing if we weren’t here,” Zora said, love clear in her tone. 

Amani gasped. “You’re right! Defiling the name of marriage I say!”

“Oh like the two of you are any better,” Maeve shot back. “Do I have to recount the amount of times I’ve caught you two in the storage closet at the pub?”

Zora chuckled. “Well you and Lucas in the pantry aren’t any better.”

“Let’sjustcutitandsayifanyofuswerecaughtbyourbossatworkwe’dbefired,” Lucas sputtered out, face going red. 

“Aww, but baby I thought you liked the thrill,” Maeve cooed. 

He shot her a low glare. Amani cackled. “Degenerates!” she yelled. 

“Amani, my love, my sweetness. Pot. Calling. Kettle. Black,” Zora said.

Amani gasped, melting completely off the stool. “My own girlfriend! Betraying me! Oh woe is me! The agony!”

They all giggled at Amani’s actions, she and Lucas scooting closer together. He wrapped his arms around her waist, swaying back and forth. The music and dancing lessons were long forgotten. 

“How about we go out for dinner tonight,” Maeve offered. 

“What? Like a double date?” Amani asked from her spot on the floor. Zora was laughing too hard to help her up. 

“Hmm...no. More like a party!”

Amani’s eyes lit up. “HELL YEAH A PARTY! We gonna get smashed and cause chaos?”

“...well sure.”

“Fuck YEAH!”

“...you are making my life so much harder,” Zora sighed, smiling. She looked back at Maeve again. “Who knew a pip squeak like you could hold your liquor so well.”

“I am not that short!”

“I will beat you at one of those games Maevey!”

“Maeve, you are the shortest out of all of us. You look like a kid.”

Maeve pouted. “Yeah I can still drink you all under the table. Yes even you Amani Ms. ‘can’t-play-guitar-sober-but-somehow-can-drunk’.”

“OH SHUDDUP!”

Lucas laughed, squeezing Maeve’s hip before going over to squat by Amani. 

Zora walked over to the now abandoned Maeve. “Well...how are you feeling?”

“Like I’m gonna wake up any second?”

“That’s fair.”

“You think you and Amani will do this?”

“What?”

“Get married.”

Zora’s eyes remained on Lucas now crying about how gravity was increasing on him. Amani let out a squeal as he fell on top of her. 

“Well...maybe. I haven’t thought that far. I love Ami but who knows where our future lies.”

“A wedding with you two would be pretty chaotic.”

“Oh yes definitely. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“LUCAS GET OFF ‘O ME YA SEMI TRUCK!”

“Amani that hurts my feelings!”

“GET OFF!”

“For that comment? No!”

Maeve and Zora giggled. “I am happy for you and Lucas. Sorry Amani almost ruined it, don’t think she realized.”

“Oh no I’m more mad about the fact you two broke into my apartment again. You should just take the key.”

“...you sure about giving us the key?”

Maeve sighed. “You’re gonna take it anyways. I can just get another spare made.”

“Amani is gonna take that as an invitation to come over as often as she can.”

“Good to know. My room locks will be changed.”

Zora snorted. “Once again, congrats. Sorry you had to do that infront of us.”

“Remind me to strangle Amani later.”

“...mmm fine but don’t wreck her pretty face.”

“Noted.”

“When are we gonna go! I wanna party!” Amani whined from where she weaseled out from underneath Lucas.

“You do realize this is a celebration of mine and Maeve’s engagement right?”

“Yeah it’s also an excuse to tell embarrassing stories.”

“...oh no.”

Maeve perked up. “Oho? Stuff I don’t know? Let’s go.”

“First we’re gonna give you a makeover,” Amani said, walking over to drag Maeve out of the studio. 

Zora untied her blue ribbon, handing it over to Lucas. “Milady’s token of her affection,” she said with a curtsy. Maeve’s protests went unheard. 

He bowed, making Zora smile. “I thank you for the token of her affection. I will treasure it always.”

“You better be planning to give that back later,” Maeve groaned as Amani dragged her away. 

“Depends. It is a token of my love’s favour.”

“Ugh I hate you.”

“But you’re still marrying me~”

She sighed. “Of course. How could I forget.” She looked back at Amani. “And the fuck are you doing?”

“Gods you need your ears checked. I am giving you a makeover for your engagement party.”

“What? Why?! I look fine!”

“Well the high waisted pants with your crop top is cute and all, I want to make you so fucking hot Lucas kneels over.”

“She does that every time I see her,” Lucas called from the doorframe. 

Maeve glared at him. “Don’t encourage her.”

He only smiled, waving at them as they made their way to her room. Zora was making sure Maeve wouldn’t escape. To her short ass it was like two very tall amazon ladies were her escorts. 

Or in this case prison guards. 

“I’d like to see them try to make you even more gorgeous,” he said with a wink. “It’d be a fun challenge.”

“We have Zora on our side!” Amani grinned. “You get dolled up too and then we go cause a ruckus!”

Maeve sighed. 

It was going to be a long, chaotic night. 

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints

A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous Chapters at AO3

Chapter Four

“Hmm, I’m sorry sir, this is a fake. I know that’s hard to hear. I will speak to the police if you want to make a report.”

“You bloody well look again. That vase is Ming so that means you are an idiot.”

Jamie walked to the appraisal room at Christie’s where Claire was working today. His fists balled up listening to the man yell at the Sassenach.

“I assure you it’s a fake sir and I’ve decided not to help you with a report, you can go.”

“If you move one step, I will stop you until you prove why it’s a fake.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, fine.”

Claire picked up the vase and threw it against the wall making the man gasp, red-faced, while Claire pushed past him and picked up a shard. Jamie’s eyebrows went up and he tried not to laugh, completely spellbound by her.

“The only true test of a Ming is the blue color of the clay after it’s fired. See, this is white. Oh all right you big baby, I’ll pay for it, I’m sure I have a dollar bill in my purse.”

The man screamed like a banshee and lunged for her, feeling his feet leave the ground, his face changed to shock as he reached behind him trying to open the hand that held him. Jamie shook his head when the man started yelling for help. He dragged the man to the door and whispered in his ear.

“Get near the lady again and I’ll rip your throat out, okay?”

The man bolted out the door and spun around to look at Jamie who smiled and thanked him for coming before closing the door. There were only two more people waiting for Claire to appraise their art and both looked nervous, clutching their prized paintings and looking at the shattered mess on the floor. One lady left, and the other was thrilled she had an authenticated treasure. Claire was a popular appraiser and seemed to know exactly where to find proof of her valuation. She would spin her laptop and there it was, selling price and picture of a comparable piece from the same artist.

Christie’s was very good at locking the doors at six o’clock, even when people pounded to get in. The room was suddenly empty except for Jamie and Claire. He helped her pack up and though she seemed normal in every way he could feel a disturbance in her energy.

“Sassenach, we have been up late every night this week. If you’re as tired as I am, maybe you should rest tonight and not be pestered by me.”

“Did you just suggest room service and a movie before early shut-eye? If so, then I accept!”

Jamie smiled and exhaled gratefully. It would have been a supreme sacrifice to lose a night with the Sassenach and he loved her suggestion.

“It’s our last night together, so we can celebrate the holiday a day early in our pajamas okay?”

Jamie’s palm itched as he thought about running his hand up the satin nightgown. He would miss her when they both went home and he wondered what promises they would make, if any.

“Javier has invited you to dinner tomorrow night. He throws a lavish party on Christmas eve at his restaurant and wants to meet you. What do you say?” She wrapped her arms around his middle for a hug.

“Of course, it would be my honor.”

Claire laughed seeing Jamie load his arms up with all her belongings, “you are super hot and so darn useful Jamie.”

That made him laugh but truth be told, like it or not, he was living for her next statement of endearment, whatever that might be. He just wanted to matter to her because that was the first step in building something that would change their lives. As long as there was a chance he might catch Casper, there was a chance at a life with the Sassenach.

“Jamie, I want to hire you to show me some exercises to build up my upper body strength, what do you say? There’s a gym at the hotel and I am worried because I can barely do three pull-ups anymore.”

“It would be a pleasure to assist you Sassenach,” he smiled realizing they would have the entire day tomorrow. No work for either of them, but such a strange request from one so fair.

When Jamie knocked later that evening, Claire felt the now familiar butterflies take flight in her stomach. She was convinced he had no idea she was Casper so she could just be herself, a professor with a crush on a cop. She asked several questions over the last few days about which agency he worked for but he was vague with the answers, saying the task force he led was a multi-agency effort. She didn’t want to pry and assumed his partial answers were a testament to an underlying boredom or unhappiness with the job. She might overthink her way right out of these hot nights with him, so she stopped analyzing him and just looked forward to the next time his hungry eyes devoured her.

Jamie had shamelessly taken possession of her body and mind every night this week and tried to calm himself down as he walked to her door. Even if he needed handcuffs it was the Sassenach’s turn at seduction and he just had to wait. He groaned inwardly trying to think of anything except her long legs, tiny waist, long hair, perky breasts, and her sweet kisses. He felt defeated already.

After a delicious meal brought by room service, Claire curled up in Jamie’s arms for a new movie they both enjoyed. Halfway through Claire turned toward him and unbuttoned his shirt pushing it off his shoulders. She moved her hand down the arm that was wrapped around her waist and tried to concentrate on the movie. She twisted to face him ten minutes later and kissed his neck and chest, pulling his face to hers she kissed him deeply and touched him everywhere.

The movie ended and Claire got up to lite the candles and hand Jamie another beer. She pulled him to the side of the bed and straddled his lap, kissing him slowly and then sinking to the floor. Jamie was fascinated with her moves, feeling like she was trying them for the first time, but that was ridiculous.

Getting his jeans off seemed to take an eternity while Jamie studied her. Keeping his hands to himself allowed him to experience Claire’s world and it was so different he was astounded. When she put him in her mouth, he could see this act pushed her arousal and she lost herself until Jamie pulled her away. Her mouth was open and eyes half-closed when he pulled her face to him for a deep kiss. I promise to try again to let you lead Sassenach, but I’m taking over, he thought.

Later, in the dark, Jamie ran his fingers through her hair and marveled at the mystery of Claire Beauchamp.

“Sassenach, how does one so tender throw a vase against the wall in front of the owner?”

“It really got his attention,” she giggled in her sleepiness. “He’s an opportunist that got hustled is what he is. I have no respect for people like that. He knew nothing of its providence or even which dynasty and had the audacity to challenge my authority on the subject. He deserved it.”

Jamie cataloged her answer in his brain and smiled to himself when she asked him to come closer. He wrapped her up in his arms and listened to the human equivalent of purring. A low soft moan that came from a happy place deep within her. He slept and dreamed of Lallybroch feeling her shift position through the night and reach for him. His sweet Sassenach.

Jamie was up and dressed early to conclude some new hire business. He gently pushed the hair out of Claire’s face, and she smiled trying to pull him in for a hug. He kissed her cheeks and whispered he would meet her in the hotel gym at noon and then left her to her dreams.

The morning blew past as Claire wrote reports, made phone calls, and returned email. She was feeling happy like sparklers were going off inside of her. It was Christmas eve, a holy holiday, and Jamie would be with her to celebrate tonight. She bounced into the hotel gym and saw Jamie sitting on a bench, red-faced and sweating. A long bar was racked behind him with three large weights at both ends. Impressive, she thought, as she walked to him. He carefully kissed her cheek trying to avoid sweating all over her.

“Ah, my Sassenach, what is your goal with this workout?”

“I want to do at least five pull-ups, underhanded and over-handed, without effort please.”

Jamie walked around her and listed the muscle groups she needed to work, touching each while he circled her.

“You need specific strength building for biceps, triceps, pectorals, deltoids, trapezius, Rhomboideus major, and teres major. Are you joining the circus Sassenach?”

“Certainly not, but I carry heavy canvases that are getting more difficult to manage and it’s required to be a decent cat burglar.” She gave her best ‘I am a professor smile’ and giggled.

“Uncle” was muttered after an hour and she clung to Jamie. He walked her back to her room and gently massaged her tired muscles. He could feel them shaking under the skin and hoped he hadn’t pushed her too hard.

“You need to soak in a tub of hot water mo chridhe. I will watch the game and guard you. Okay?”

Jamie was asleep when she got out of the tub. He looked like a handsome angel, so serene in his rest. He was relaxed, unguarded, and he looked ten years younger. Something about Jamie made her feel hopeful and happy for some reason. She tried to imagine going back to Chicago, getting Frank out of her life, starting another semester, and the big decision about stealing art. That was the reality of her life, and this week was a sweet tryst with an incredible man, and that was all.

“Sassenach, come lass.”

He held his hand out to her and pulled her to him so he could make her forget whatever made her look so sad.

In late afternoon, Claire straightened her hair and lined her eyes putting two coats of mascara on her lashes, powder on her cheeks that shimmered, and red lipstick. She wore a silver sparkling wrap-around dress and thigh-high boots that stopped an inch from the hem. When she opened the door for Jamie, she was shocked. He wore a dark blue suit, white shirt and a paisley blue tie. He looked scrubbed with his hair slicked back. His eyes looked like blue diamonds.

“Wow, you clean up nicely,” she said wrapping her arms around him.

He had a gorgeous bottle of Italian Merlot in a gift box for Javier and Claire was very impressed. Rubbing her lipstick on a tissue she reached for him and kissed until his toes curled. He looked closely at her face and hair and she knew he loved the way she looked. What a fine way to start the evening, she thought.

Javier opened the door to greet them and was quite happy about the snow falling outside. He shook Jamie’s hand with a warm smile and kissed Claire’s cheeks. They were brought into the dining room of the restaurant where a huge table was set with finery. Javier made the introductions and Jamie sat down next to the host while Claire made her way around the table, hugging and kissing the people in Javier’s inner circle. When she came back to Jamie he was in a lively conversation with Javier and another man about the European football leagues. The men were laughing and Javier told the other man in French, “this kid knows his football.” Jamie thanked him in French making them all laugh.

Course after course was placed in front of Claire. Soup, salad, a sumptuous duck and roasted vegetables, followed by coffee, and a delightful chocolate mousse with fresh whipped cream. Claire would take two or three bites of each in order to finish the meal. Jamie ate every bite with a smile on his face and Javier almost cried. She watched Jamie engage any conversation that was offered, with the appropriate grace, humor, or sympathy. She was so grateful he came. When he was bantering with another guest, Claire watched is face until he turned his head and smiled at her. She could feel the blush spread across her cheeks as she quickly looked away. Two old women snickered to each other and talked behind their napkins.

Jamie shook hands with Javier who handed him a business card and asked him to call when he was in town. The blush on Jamie’s cheeks showed how much he appreciated the gesture. They piled into the back of the Rolls Royce and Joseph took them back to the hotel. He watched them kissing and was happy they were going to separate ends of the earth tomorrow. He could see no good coming from this relationship.

Joseph hugged Claire and when she turned around his smile disappeared and the look he gave Jamie made his blood run cold. The older man got behind the wheel and drove away without a backward glance. Jamie wasn’t sure what to make of that but he looked up and saw his pretty girl beckoning him out of the snow.

“Merry Christmas Jamie.”

“Merry Christmas Sassenach. Come here.”

At three in the morning, Claire’s cell phone started ringing and didn’t stop. Jamie whispered that her phone was ringing and it could be an emergency of some kind. Claire sat up and grabbed her phone, suddenly afraid that something bad had happened.

“Hello!”

“Claire darling you come home tomorrow right? Yes, well I am making sure because it’s Christmas and you have been gone.”

“Frank why are you calling me in the middle of the night you scared the shit out of me!”

“If I wasn’t so drunk I would think you were yelling at me. That’s ridiculous because I’m a fuckin Senator and you are a measly teacher. Now listen Claire, this is your last trip to wherever, from now on you are here or at the school. Got that?”

Frank was so drunk she could hardly understand him, and she was getting mad. “Now tell me how to unlock your computer.”

“Why are you in my house, Frank?”

“Why not.”

She heard a loud bang, the sound of glass breaking, and Frank in the background yelling profanities.

“You fucking computer!”

Claire clicked off and ran to her laptop to look up the police precinct closest to her. She gave a report that her ex-boyfriend broke into her apartment and was destroying everything. She explained she was in Paris and told them his name.

“His name is Frank Randall.”

“Is it spelled like the Senator Frank Randall?”

“It is Senator Frank Randall.”

The cop who was taking the report smiled to himself. Senator Randall had voted to defund the Chicago police and they hated him for being a ball-less politician parrot. He wouldn’t enjoy his time with them tonight.

Claire was fuming and slipped her nightgown over her head, filling a glass with bottled water.

“What can I do to help Claire?”

“Nothing Jamie, I’m fine, I’m just going to wait for the police to call. Go back to sleep.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, honestly, it’s taken care of. A rather unpleasant episode with my soon to be ex.”

Jamie could not believe she was shutting him out of this incident with Frank like he didn’t matter and had no business in her real world. He was being respectful when he didn’t ask her about after they leave Paris or maybe he just didn’t want to know.

“Claire, were you going to call me when you go back to Chicago?”

“What?”

He could see it in her eyes, confusion about a question that seemed so simple to him. She never planned to see him again, or even call. He was nothing to her. He dressed quickly and left her room. He couldn’t think of anything to say to her so he said nothing. He went to his room and changed into jeans for a long walk through the city while he worked this out in his head.

Claire couldn’t stop crying as she watched him out her window. He walked away hunched into his coat against the cold. She sobbed, realizing she had lost herself in the arms and charm of Jamie Fraser. She never told him she would call, she never said she had feelings for him. She would never forget his face as he figured out what this week was to her. She laid on his pillow with his wonderful smell and cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, Claire called Jamie’s room, and looked for him in the dining room and gym. She asked at the front desk and was told he checked out. It felt like an emotional bomb going off inside her and she struggled to get to her room before falling apart. She looked at his name in her contacts and wrote him a text about how sorry she was, then deleted it. She was dreadfully sorry she hurt him but knew all along they would go separate ways. She didn’t think it would feel so bad.

Claire boarded her plane with puffy red eyes and a pounding headache. About every ten minutes she felt the tears start again and finally ordered whisky so she could sleep. Her life stretched out before her and never seemed so bleak. Jamie Fraser showed her a fresh new day where anything was possible, and he held her like a precious treasure. Now she was going back to her life in a dirty, crime-ridden city, with a drunk Frank telling her what to do, and she could not find a ray of light in all that. She raised her hand for another whisky.

Claire walked toward the baggage claim and could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Geillis hugged her gushing questions about Paris and going on about her new man. The doorman at her building helped carry her suitcases to the elevator asking if she needed help to her apartment. She tipped him and said she would be fine. Her key slid into her door lock and she bent to take the first case inside. A large fist came out of nowhere and cold-cocked her. The assailant left her on the floor with her door open and suitcases in the hall. She was unconscious.

Jamie walked through Paris for hours, but the decorations and lights were not noticed this time. His brain crunched the facts that were heartily ignored for the last four days realizing he believed what he wanted. She was an enigma with an enchanting personality that drew him to her, she was mysterious because she shared little about who she was inside. He didn’t believe she wanted to hurt him, but it hurt nonetheless.

Jamie flew back to Scotland pounding whisky and sleeping to avoid thinking about the Sassenach. He retrieved his car and drove the country roads to Lallybroch, feeling better with each passing minute. He would hurt and miss her, but he truly hoped to forget her in time.

Claire’s face was swelling badly when the paramedics arrived, she was asking for Jamie, completely disoriented. When she saw only strangers around her, she started to cry like her soul was dying. The EMT’s brought her suitcases into the apartment and tested her for a concussion, asking her to come to the hospital but she refused. When they left, she turned in a circle and saw destruction everywhere. The glass-top computer desk was shattered on the floor, cables yanked out, monitor smashed, furniture was in pieces, and the kitchen floor was inches deep with shattered glass, crystal, and dishes.

Two officers were lifting prints in the bedroom and walked out to see a young woman looking as shattered as the apartment. They knew this was done by someone she knew, this was personal and laced with violent hatred. Both were afraid for her and asked where they could take her for the night.

Claire looked up at the officers taking a moment to understand the question. She shook her head and opened the door for them. Other than have a cruiser drive by her building during the night, there was little they could do without her cooperation. They left reluctantly, both fearing he would come again, this time for her life.

Claire recognized she was in shock. All she could see was Jamie’s face, at dinner when he smiled at her, sleepy and hugging her, laughing at her banter, and crumbling from the truth. If there was whisky and a remaining chair she would have stayed right there, but there wasn’t. She took her suitcase and left to stay in a hotel where she sat in the darkness staring at nothing until Paris woke up.

Javier listened to his goddaughter cry and explain being knocked out and the destruction of everything she owned, even her clothes had a knife taken to them. Javier took the call in his office and accepted a glass of water and a baby aspirin from Joseph who recognized a dangerous tone of voice in his employer, and lifelong friend. Joseph closed his door so Javier would not be disturbed and took a position nearby to stop anyone from knocking. Javier called his name, and Joseph, not liking where the dominoes were falling, prepared for the worst.

“The bear is in trouble, he’s going to kill her!” Javier ranted the story out as Joseph felt the magma rising in his soul. They knew she might go to jail someday until they could get her out, but being struck and terrorized by that perverted piece of shit had Joseph on the edge of reason. Javier was packing up his briefcase and told Joseph to get packed, they were going to Chicago.

Claire clicked off her phone and sat still. She had not stood up since coming to this room in the middle of the night. She dialed Frank.

“Hello darling, Merry Christmas! What time will you be ready for dinner?”

“Come anytime, Frank.” She disconnected.

She had not intended to confront him, but he would have to start pretending, shock, concern, anger, protectiveness, all the emotions a real fiancé would have when he stumbles into her wrecked apartment. She expected her phone to start ringing in about twenty minutes.

“Hello Frank, did you get a good look at the mess you made last night. Shut your mouth or I will..” He kept sputtering a string of words and talking louder. She clicked off and waited. This happened three more times before he remained quiet on the phone so she could talk.

“If you want to stay alive to pursue whatever it is you’re pursuing you only have one rule, never speak to me or see me again for as long as you live. Even if you see me by accident…bye-bye baby. I’m not the meek teacher you think I am, and you have fucked with the wrong person. Don’t believe me? Try it Frank, and I’ll be more than happy to order your life extinguished.”

Claire felt some weird kind of closure with that and stumbled to the bed where she passed out from exhaustion. She dreamed of Jamie whispering in her ear and felt the happiness bubble up inside her. The ringing of her cell phone pulled her out of sleep. She didn’t know where she was or how long she slept and Javier’s worried voice on the phone was asking where she was. Her face hurt so badly she couldn’t remember the name of the hotel until she looked at the branding all around her.

Javier almost fainted when he saw Claire’s face. He was no stranger to violence, but the Bear’s face was beyond recognition, black and swollen with one eye puffy and closed. He hugged her gingerly and walked her to the bed. Claire was telling him she was fine, but she was very much not fine. Joseph had turned away from her to hide his tears and get control of himself. Javier handed her a pill and a glass of water. Once she was asleep, Joseph stayed in the room and Javier went looking for a new residence for her. He was gone all day and she slept peacefully.

Joseph looked down at her, deep in sleep. He saw the fifteen-year-old, fresh from the jungle, quiet and self-protective, completely vulnerable. He remembered her locked in the bathroom for hours, showering, flushing the toilet, showering again. Her fingers were puckered for the first several weeks from so much washing. Joseph and Javier bent over backwards to make her welcome and finally, after two weeks, she smiled, and then laughed at something said and Joseph thought his heart would explode with happiness. They were devoted to her happiness, and when she grew up, she returned their kindness by becoming the most extraordinary woman. Now here she was, beaten and broken. He took a deep breath and went back to his seat to pull himself together.

Javier arranged for a medical doctor to examine Claire at the hotel because she refused to leave the room. He gave her antibiotics and pain medication and ordered rest for a week as the swelling came down in her face. He was happy to say her eye was not damaged, and her sight would clear up in time. Claire took the medicine as directed and slept like the dead. Javier would go out each day making arrangements for her apartment and filling it with furniture, dishes, crystal, flat wear, pots and pans, linens, towels, shower gels, shampoo, even some makeup. He had impeccable taste, but he was not a thirty-year-old female in Chicago, so he hired a decorator to make the selections. All of it was the best quality money could buy and Javier was in heaven to be spoiling his Bear.

Claire had put the brakes on Javier’s extravagance at age eighteen. She allowed him to finance school and a simple wardrobe and saved her money for anything else she wanted. Joseph would drive her to her job each afternoon at a nearby printer. She sat on plastic for the ride home because she was covered in ink smears and dirt from crawling into the machines. Javier would wince seeing her filthy and exhausted but could never convince her to quit.

Everything changed for Claire when she was hired by Christie’s auction house to be a runner during auctions. Every other day she assisted the appraiser, the decorator, or anyone else that needed help. She was exposed to the great artists of the Renaissance, Baroque, Rococo , Neoclassicism, and Romanticism periods and she was hooked. During dinner one evening, she laid out her plan; what schools she would attend, what graduate school she would choose for her PHD, and her choice of career, teaching fine art at a respected University. She apologized for not knowing which University yet and Joseph shot a few peas across the table before he could raise the napkin to his mouth. The original plan never wavered, she did exactly what she said she would do.

After two weeks of rest, Javier checked them all out of the hotel and brought Claire to her new home, a high security, luxury apartment overlooking Lake Michigan. It was extravagant and huge, filled with high-end furniture and decorations. Claire found beautiful crystal stemware, glasses, mugs, plates and everything in between. Her closet was filled with basic clothing, drawers filled with undergarments, sweaters, belts and socks. She pressed her fingers against her mouth and couldn’t stop the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. She hugged her godfather, and then Joseph, shaking with emotion, so grateful for all their help.

Claire utilized the gourmet kitchen to cook an American favorite for Javier and Joseph, filet mignon, lobster tail with butter for dipping, baked potato and herb-roasted carrots. Javier hovered in case she needed help and Joseph laughed and told him to sit down and enjoy the sun setting on the Chicago skyline. Javier planned to rave over this simple, no sauce meal until the beef melted in his mouth and the lobster exploded with flavor. He lost himself in the unusual and primitive meal and Claire mentally high-fived herself. The meal was symbolic. She was a grownup who could manage life on her own, thanks to their help.

Claire hugged them goodbye at the elevator and promised to visit at Christmas next year. When the elevator doors closed, she took her first steps in independence, free of Frank, free to pursue her career, free to choose her every next step. The only thing still missing was color. The apartment building was opulent and surely full of beautiful colors, but she only saw shades of gray in the objects she passed.

Geillis made arrangements for Claire’s senior graduate student to start her classes when the new semester started. The administration was told her face was heeling after a car accident and they were too happy to help. The first day she walked into her lecture hall there was only sympathy on the faces watching her. She was grateful and soon her love of teaching took over and life returned to normal, albeit colorless.

[retrovirge]

Camp Starlight (+ Contest!)

Hey y’all!

So, I had an idea for a contest!!! So basically, here’s how it goes:

Artists can draw any scene from this very story that they so desire, whatever image comes into their head for inspiration. You post it and tag it with #starlightdrabbledraw and leave a link to this post in your own (you dont have to, but it would be preferred!) and boom! You’re done! (I’m holding this on amino too so the winners will be selected from both platforms.)

I’m gonna make it so entries are due October 15th :3 you can totally enter after that, you just won’t be eligible for prizes :))

And uh I’m also gonna be giving out prizes! So here they are!

1st Place

Either: a longer short story (A story that’s anywhere from 2000-4000 words, maybe more), two short stories/extended art drabbles (at the most 1500 words) or four drabbles/art drabbles (under 1000 words) (keep in mind if you choose the longer story it will take me quite a while due to my own personal reasons.)

2nd Place

Either: A short story/extended art drabble (at the most 1500 words) or three drabbles/art drabbles (under 1000 words)

3rd Place

Two drabbles/art drabbles

4th Place

One drabble/art drabble

(Please keep in mind I can’t write all prompts because some give me a lot of writers block, so I may have to ask to change prompts with you if you win. Also, for art drabbles, I will need proper, linked credit to the artist so I can message them and ask if I can repost.)

So yeah, there you go! There will also be honourable mentions and stuff, but yeah! AnYways, onto the story! (Which you can totally just read on your own if you don’t feel like entering the contest ^w^)

⚠️Triggers⚠️

Remus’ innuendos, mentions of fire, mentions of bugs

Word Count - 3132

~

”Come on, kiddos! Let’s go camping, it’ll be fun!”

Those were the words that Patton had spoken a few nights ago. Roman had mixed feelings about it. Virgil was anxious. Logan was... Quite eager, actually, but didn’t show it. There was so much nature to study out there, he was very much excited. Janus didn’t seem to care, and Remus seemed to be marvelling at all the mischief he could cause while camping.

And that’s how they found themselves in the car a few days later. Roman and Patton loudly singing in the front seat, Remus occasionally butting in and changing the lyrics to ‘more fun ones’ (Patton did not like that very much), with the other three sides covering their ears in the backseat, passing around looks of mutual annoyance.

The car ride felt like forever, but they had eventually pulled up at the campsite. They parked the trailer, pitched the tent (cause there wasn’t enough room for everyone in the trailer), and set up anything else they needed to. And then they went off, deciding to check out the campsite. Patton decided to have everyone split up into groups of two, and allow them to rotate whenever they wanted. After making sure everyone was okay with that, off they went. Logan went with Janus, Roman went with Patton, and Virgil went with Remus.

So what were they all doing? Well, Janus and Logan decided to go through a walk in the forest. Logan was going a little nuts and jotting down notes for any unknown piece of nature he spotted, while Janus was simply admiring everything. Holding leaves in his hands, smelling flowers, stuff like that. He looked over at Logan, sighing as he watched him zip around. “Nerd, come here-“

Logan looked up, a look of confusion spreading over his face. He hopped up from where he was kneeled, walking over to Janus. He raised an eyebrow. “How may I assist you?”

Janus surprised him by simply sNatching his notebook. “Hey-! Janus, you can’t-“

”Shush, Logan. You /don’t work enough/, alright? Why don’t you just live in the moment with me for a bit?” The snake man asked, head tilting to the side as he cocked his eyebrow into a raise.

Logan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, letting out a sigh, realizing Janus would not let up if he refused. “...Fine.”

They walked on, Logan’s eyes flickering around curiously as Janus took his time to admire nature. Logan would occasionally glance over with pleading eyes for the notebook, but Jan just shook his head at him, giving a small smile when Logan sighed.

Eventually, they found some animals. Some bugs, some squirrels, even some birds. Logan found himself kneeled down, holding a White-spotted sawyer. Janus on the other hand, took out some bird seed and got a bird onto his hand. They were both silent, growing content with their current actions and habitat.

• • •

Meanwhile, Roman and Patton were off discovering the children’s playgrounds of the campsite. Roman found himself going between sliding down a slide and spinning on a... Spinny thing, while Patton was going between swinging on the swings and sliding down a pole. The pair ignored any weird looks they got from kids, along with other adults that happened to be around. They were just having fun, and they knew that.

Roman let out a loud laugh as he slid down the slide for the umpteenth time, looking to Patton with a grin. “We should go to parks more oFten, Padré! It’s so much fUN!”

Patton responded with a big smile as he swung as high as he could on the swing, a loud laugh escaping him. “I know!! Good golly miss molly, we really do.” He grinned, slowing down the swing a bit before hopping off with a laugh. “I wonder if there are any more parks down here??”

Roman let out a gasp, now on a spinning pole. “Patton, you’re a genius!” He hopped off of his pole, stumbling over to Patton due to being dizzy from the spinning. The moral side tilted his head, smiling at the prince. “We should look around more! I’m not sure how long we’ve been at the park, actually.” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck, then clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s okay! We can change that!” He smiled at the eager nod in agreement he received from Roman.

And then they were off. On an adventure to find another park. Wandering through the campground, skipping and admiring animals and flowers, singing random songs, all in all, just bois bein bois.

Soon, they stumbled upon another park, eyes widening at just how much bigger this one was. The last one had a small playground and some swings, but this one had two climbing areas with slides, one of those circular shaped things where you could hop on and spin it, and last but not least, a swingset for both babies/toddlers and anyone older than that. It made the last playground pale in comparison.

Patton and Roman were of course quick to get to work testing all the playground equipment, the two coming up with a number system to rate the ‘fun-ness’ level of each one. Because why the heck not?

Patton even discovered a cool looking bug, and Roman snapped a picture of it on his phone so they could ask Logan about it later. Patton found the bug kinda creepy, but Roman held it no problem, only letting out a high pitched scream when it flew away. Because let’s be honest, bugs can look kinda scary when they fly away, unless it’s a butterfly.

All in all, they were enjoying themselves, happily playing and discovering and laughing like a group of kids.

• • •

Then you got Virgil and Remus.

The pair had decided to go searching around for anything to do really, Virgil trying to keep Remus’ head out of subjects such as what he could possibly throw in the fire, or how easy it was to set everything aflame. He claimed it was for scientific reasons, but Virgil knew this wasn’t Logan he was with.

So he simply gave Remus a small jar with some dirt, telling him he could get some worms because a few of the sides had mentioned wanting to go fishing at some point. More specifically, Janus. Logan said he might join in, and Roman had said he wanted to watch to see what they would catch. (Janus did not look amused, knowing Roman would probably scare all the fish away.)

Virgil kept a close eye on Remus, wandering around himself. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him what to do, so he just went and bought some firewood. By the time he emerged from the store, Remus was there, jumping up and down and yelling about how he caught a twisty pink earth noodle.

After a bit of chatter, Virgil and Remus wandered back to the campsite, where Virgil tried to get a fire going. However, his fear got the best of him and he chickened out. (But luckily, Janus came back to get something and gladly lit the fire for him, before leaving.)

So now they were simply sat around the fire, roasting hot dogs for dinner. Well... Virgil was. Remus was just throwing them in the fire. After about three hot dogs being thrown in (Virgil telling him “stop it.” every single time-) Virgil looked up with a sigh. “Remus!” He hissed. “Quit throwin’ hot dogs in the fire! They weren’t very cheap and we’re gonna run out!”

Remus just let out a laugh, smirking at Virgil with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I guess if we run out, I’ll just have to use yours then~” He laughed at Virgil’s reaction, aka an obnoxious groan and facepalm. “Oh my g o d, shut up...” Remus just grinned at him. “M a k e m e.”

Virgil stared at him for a few seconds, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He shook his head and looked down at his own cooking hot dog, twisting it in circles slowly. “You’re paying for the next batch if we run out.”

Slowly, the rest of the sides began to make their way back to camp, just in time for the sunset. Remus did in fact have to go buy more hot dogs, and soon the sun was setting, and they were all roasting and or eating hot dogs around the fire, laughing and talking.

Eventually the conversation got to sleeping arrangements. They brought three tents, so that meant two people per tent. After some decision making, they chose the same groups they went off in today. Logan and Janus, Roman and Patton, and Remus and Virgil.

They roasted marshmallows around the fire, most of the sides roasting golden marshmallows, unlike Remus, who completely burnt his marshmallow and ate the s’more in one bite.

After dinner and s’mores, the sun had completely set, and they chose to go on a walk down to the dock that was by the lake. At first, Logan hadn’t wanted to go, but soon after, he was proven very wrong, and he knew damn well he was extremely glad that he was dragged on the walk.

The reason? Upon arriving at the dock, Logan took one look up and any negative thoughts, emotions, and words all just faded away.

Stars.

Hundreds of beautiful stars freckled across the night sky, the light of the moon reflecting in the ocean. He swore he could almost see galaxies among the bright lights, his eyes widening as a shooting star bolted across the sky.

It was truly beautiful.

Logan could sit out all night and admire every star individually, and he knew even then he wouldn’t be able to take in the full beauty of all the stars visible to him, even by morning.

Sitting down at the end of the dock, Logan let his eyes flicker among the stars. He tried to take in the beauty. Take in the light. Truly enjoy the stars. And he was. Well, until...

”Hey- guys?”

Everyone perked their heads up to look at Virgil, who had spoken. He had his eyebrows furrowed and he was looking around. “I... Don’t mean to be a party pooper, but... Could we go back-? It’s... Kinda spooky out here.”

Roman let out a loud groan, making a dramatic noise. “Come o n ! We ju st got here! Look at the stars!” He threw his arms out, flopping down next to Logan. “Look at the beauty our universe holds! Look at mE, for crying out loud!” He pointed at himself, making Logan facepalm.

Virgil sighed. “...Okay. I can just go back myself, then.” He mumbled, crossing his arms and turning to leave, only for Patton to stop him. “Ah, ah ah! You aren’t leaving on your own, us 6 have to stick together! So we’re all going back right now!” He said, making Roman huff. “But- but Patton! We’re adults!! We can stay out here alone!”

“Yes, and I’m well aware of that. But I don’t want you guys to stay out here alone! Something could happen!” He said, making the other groan. “Come on, we’re going.” He began to walk back with Virgil.

Logan had a visible frown on his face as he got up, making Roman tilt his head and go over to him, letting Jan and Remus walk ahead of them. “You good, nerd?”

Logan sighed. “Satisfactory, yes.” He said as they began to slowly walk. Roman frowned. “You’re a bad liar. You can talk to me, y’know?” He said quietly, starting to look around.

Logan was silent, and Roman didn’t push it. He didn’t want to make Logan mad at him, so he simply left it. Until Logan did speak. “...I am simply... Unhappy about leaving the dock. The stars were quite remarkable to look at, and... I’m unsure if they’ll resemble this exact, beautiful state again.” He said quietly, frowning and letting his head bow, quietly watching his feet move forward and drag back with every step he took.

Roman frowned a little, letting out a sigh. “...I see. I’m sorry, Logan.” He said quietly, pushing his hands into his pockets. “That’s quite an understandable reason to be upset, if it makes you feel any better.” He pointed out, making Logan sigh and nod. “Thank you, Roman.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “...Well, we are almost back at camp. I suggest we put out the fire and make use of our tents for the night.” He said, receiving a nod in response from Roman.

After arriving back to camp and talking a little more, they did just that. They put out the campfire, confirmed sleeping arrangements a final time, got ready for bed, then ducked into their tents. Everyone fell asleep quite quickly, except for Remus, who kept getting mumbles from an annoyed Virgil saying, “Go to hell to sleep.”

Oh, and Logan. He was laid out in his tent, his glasses next to his sleeping bag as he lay curled up, shivering from the cold and sighing. He could hear Janus’ soft breathing from the sleeping bag next to his, and part of him wanted to wake him up so the nerd wouldn’t be confined to his lonesome, but he wasn’t going to take sleep from Janus for his own comfort.

He eventually did lure off to sleep, soft snores escaping him as he lay curled up in the beanbag, his mind slipping into a dreamless, yet relaxing state.

It was a long night, yet peaceful.

• • •

”Logan- Logan! C’mon, wake up-!”

”Mmh...?”

Logan stirred in his sleeping bag, eyes slowly opening as his head turned to face wherever the whisper-shouting voice was coming from. His eyes fluttered open, and he let out a small gasp as Roman was suddenly there. The prince pressed his fingers to his lips and shushed Logan, whispering to him. “Shh... C’mon.” He carefully left the tent, and Logan was just confused at this point.

He glanced around tiredly, grabbing his glasses and putting them on after rubbing his eyes, turning to look at Janus’ sleeping bag. He was still there. Still fast asleep, unphased by Roman’s sudden appearance.

Logan opened his mouth and then closed it, letting out a sigh. He carefully crawled out of the tent, frowning confusedly when he noticed it was still dark. ...What was Roman planning?

Getting up, he quietly zipped up the tent, then made his way over to Roman. “...What are you doing?” He whispered, a confused frown on his face.

Roman just grinned at him, taking his hand. “You’ll see.” He whispered, taking him out of the camp area containing the tents- where everyone was still sleeping, Logan assumed- turned left, and began to walk.

Logan asked questions all the way to their destination, until they eventually began to near it, and it clicked in Logan’s mind.

They were going to the dock.

”Roman, why...” Logan’s face was full of confusion as he turned his head to look at the prince-like side, who just smiled at Logan. “You said you wanted to see the stars for longer, did you not?” His voice came out in a soft, gentle tone as he guided Logan onto the dock, stopping near the endHe smiled at the nerd, carefully going down and laying on the dock, ignoring the wetness of the wood below him. He gazed at the sky for a few moments, then looked to Logan again. “...Well, are you going to watch the stars with me, or not?” He said, to which Logan shook his head as if he was snapping out of something, then carefully nodded, slowly laying down next to Roman.

They were quiet as they silently laid there, gaze flickering among the pretty stars that rested above their heads, just enjoying the stars and each other’s company.

”Mmm... Logan?”

”Yes, Roman?”

”...Do you know a lot about astrology?”

”...I’d say so, yes.”

”Can... Can you teach me a bit?”

”Why... Certainly, Roman.”

And so Logan began to talk quietly, falling into a ramble. About constellations, about the solar system, things like that. Roman stopped watching the stars, turning to gaze at Logan with fond eyes. He could listen to him talk for hours. Although Logan’s voice may have seemed monotone and lacking most emotion, Roman liked it. Adored it, even. He wasn’t sure why, but Logan’s voice was just beautiful to him. God, Logan was just...

Roman wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but it happened before he could stop it. Next thing he knew, he was moving closer and closer, until eventually...

His head moved up, and his lips were on Logan’s.

Logan was shocked by it at first, his eyes wide. Roman realized what he was doing and pulled away, letting out a gasp. “Oh- jesus, um- I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean to do that-“ He started to get up. “I-I can just-“

Logan pulled him back down before he could go, pressing their lips together once again. Roman let out a gasp, freezing for a moment before slowly melting into the feeling, closing his eyes and returning the kiss. “...Hm.”

They stayed like that for god knows how long, just smoochin’ under the stars. They both felt calm, and quite good.

Eventually, they pulled away for air, both panting as they stared at each other. Roman was the one to break the silence. “...W-Wow.” Logan blinked, nodding in agreement. “...Y-Yeah. Wow.”

Roman gazed at him for a few more minutes, eyes slightly wide. He eventually took a small breath and let out a little laugh, Logan responding with a flustered smile. The creative side carefully laid down next to Logan, and they stayed quiet. They could talk about the kiss later, but for now they just wanted to enjoy the stars, and enjoy each other.

Eventually, they fell asleep under the night sky with a small smile occasionally coming up on both of their faces, fingers intertwined which eventually led to the two scooting closer to one another.

You can imagine the fun that pursued when Patton woke up and was unable to find Logan or Roman anywhere.

~

apologies if this seems rushed ^^;

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 98) "Ring Around The Ruby"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3 @crystalbaby12 @mgkobsessed @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @5sosfam1dlover @lovemythsworld ...still trying Bra 🖤

Are we sure we have everything??" Luna asks as she plays with her padlock, she finds herself doing that whenever she's nervous.

After breakfast with Casie. A morning ShowerFuck, lines and a burn session with Colson in the bathroom. Luna's dressed in a simple, white, silk dress. Black chucks and light makeup. Shockingly, she throws on no jewelery except her ring, which never comes off. Her long hair flowing around her. Looking around their hotel suite, Luna has a hard enough time keeping track of herself, let alone two other people's stuff.

"You double checked that you've got your necklace, Diablo shirt and sunglasses?" She asks Casie.

"Yup." She nods proudly at Luna.

"What Diablo shirt?" Colson whips around.

"Your purple one....." Luna answers.

"Why didn't you give her yours? It's smaller." He challenges her.

"Because I've already altered mine... To fit me." She answers with her eyebrows raised.

Fully aware of what she's hinting at, Colson's dick twitches. The memory of their first performance and Luna's homemade Diablo shirt floating around in his brain.

Colson sighs out a Fine with a smile at Casie. She can have anything she wants. Of his or The World's. Not even caring as long as His Peanut is happy. Unknown to him, Luna had already grabbed a replacement. The Three of Them taking care of each other in ways they don't even realize. --------------------------------------------------

Outside The Jacquard, Colson's Eleven are the same Assholes they always are. Each loudly squeezing Casie tight with huge kisses on the cheek. Slim spinning her in circles until they're both dizzy and laughing.

"Uncle Slim!!!" She giggles as she sees triples.

Finding her balance, Casie spots Sam. Through the week they had become great friends.

"It was really rad to meet you." Sam says as she squats down to do her secret handshake with Casie.

"Will you be at EstFEST for our wedding? She asks.

"I'll be at both. I wouldn't miss them for a thousand crabby patties." Her response making Casie laugh as she jumps into Sam, knocking her down.

Caught off guard, Sam laughs loudly with her as she falls back onto the pavement. Shockingly pleased by The Cool Ass Kid's grip.

Baze and Luna both watching them. Luna's soul flittering at this new side of Sammy. Baze almost sure he's in love with the Wild Drummer.

Hugging her bestfriend, Luna teases her lightly in her ear. "Fuck you." Sam laughs.

Gripping each other tight, they agree to see each other in Seattle. Behave... Luna smirks to another one of Sam's Fuck Yous.

As Luna and Ashleigh hug GoodBye, she Thanks Luna again. To her solid squeeze and Stop. Both knowing their friendship is genuine. Flowing beyond their relationships with Colson.

"Alright... Alright... She's only gonna be gonna for two days!" Colson laughs at the two of them.

"Two days too long!!" Ashleigh complains, loving another woman on The Bus with her.

Ashleigh and Sam get along very well but Luna helps Ashleigh run shit. With Luna by Colson's side, this has been Ashleigh's least stressful tour. In almost 10yrs.

With the uber arriving to carry The Three of Them to the airport, The Boys hug and kiss Luna and Casie a dozen more times. Laughing at Colson and giving him daps when he complains about Where's His Love.

"We'll see you tonight, Bitch." Rook laughs at him as he squeezes Luna. "Good luck, Bro.... Not that your badass needs it." He grins after pecking her cheek as they squeeze GoodBye.

Rook is Luna's favorite Drummer Boy. Luna is Rook's favorite Bitch. She rocks with all The Boys but those two are true Roll Dawgs. Both appreciating each other since their first conversation the night of Colson's Birthday Dinner at Tao.

"WE LOOOVE YOUSSSS!!!" Luna hollers out the car window as she heads off with Casie and Colson.

Preparing for the 13hr ride in front of them to Boise, The Remaining Eight fuck around a bit longer. Climbing on, The Bus feels a little off without Their Core. This does not stop the smoke, music and drinks from flowing though. It just makes it feel.... Different.

--------------------------------------------------

Sat in first class between Luna and Colson, Casie is talking a mile a minute. Both Luna and Colson requesting a Bloody Mary immediately. Grinning at each other over her talking head.

It's a 3hr flight. Having them hit Cleveland before 4P. Pulling out her carry on, Luna shares her art supplies with Casie.

Colson sips his drink as His Girls draw. Casie excitedly talking about Their Weddings.

"You know what we've still gotta do?" Luna asks the rambling child.

"What?" She asks as she lifts her face from her artwork

"Get you fitted you for your dresses." Luna shines into her sketch book.

"Dresses!!! Like TWO!!" Casie yells with wide excited eyes.

"Yeah, Dill. Two weddings. Two dresses, SugarPop." Luna laughs at her, looking up from the drawing she's working on.

"Jesus fucking Christ, I fucking love her." Colson thinks as uncharacteristic tears well in his eyes.

"AHHHH!!!" Casie shouts in excitement to both of their grins.

Colson reaches over, turning Luna's chin to sink a grateful kiss onto her lips as Casie's mid squeeze. The girl not minding being crushed in between the love of the two of them.

Just as they're about to land, Luna hands Colson her sketch. It's a crude drawing of the two of them embracing.

"Fuck. I love it." His heart beats faster as he studies it. "Tuck it in your book until we get home?" He asks to her smiling nod.

-------------------------------------------------

"Oooh!!!! My BAAAABY!!!" Emma exclaims as Casie runs into her open arms.

"I missed you so much, Mommy!!" Casie says as she falls into her tight grasp.

Colson and Luna watching the two. Their love for each other overflowing all over their front yard as they roll around in hugs and laughter.

"She's such a good mom." Luna whispers to Colson in admiration of Emma.

"She really is." Colson says proudly as he throws his arm around Luna.

Smooching her cheek, he grabs Casie's bags. Carrying them inside. There are many things that can be said about Colson Baker. Attentive to His, should truly be the first description.

Inside Casie erupts into the details of her week long adventure. Performing OnStage, swimming, jumping and diving last night, sitting with Patti during the taping of Ellen, The Planetarium and The Butterfly Exhibit. Forgetting about the Splash Park as she happily yells about how the butterflies flew all around them, kissing her and Luna's skin. All the while, simultaneously showing Emma her new treasures.

"We went EVERYWHERE, MOMMY!!!" We even bought a house in NY. MOM!! I LIVE IN NEW YORK CITY NOW!!!" She shouts while bouncing around the kitchen.

Those words cause Emma to shoot a quick Look between Colson and Luna. Wondering WHAT THE FUCK HER CHILD IS TALKING ABOUT.

"We're about to make settlement on a brownstone so we have a place in The City. Kinda like here and LA." Luna speaks up to reassure her.

Emma giving Luna an accepting and understanding nod. She turns back to the chattering little girl.

"So, you had fun?" She asks her daughter.

"SO MUCH FUN, MOM!!" Casie screams to Emma's laughter.

Colson and Emma touch base as Luna helps Casie with her luggage. Alone in the kitchen, Emma speaks freely.

"Don't fuck this up, Kells. She's good for you and Case already loves her. I know you're getting married next month, but, PLEASE. Don't fuck this up. For you or her." Emma pleads with the man she's known almost longer than half of her life.

"I don't want to, Em...." Colson replies with concerned eyes. "But, I'm so fucking afraid I will."

Emma reaches to hug him. "Keep that fear and you won't." She tells him honestly as they embrace tightly.

There's something to be said about co-parents who are friends that genuinely care for each other. It's a beautiful thing. Truly.

-------------------------------------------------

Outside, before Luna and Colson catch their uber to his house, The Family embraces each other GoodBye individually. There's a comforting warmth that flows through them.

As Colson and Casie say their GoodByes, Luna and Emma hug each other tightly. Probably tighter than they've ever held each other before. Emma whispering a Thank You for Taking Care of My Baby Girl. Luna squeezing her a smidge tighter to Thank Emma for Trusting Her With Casie. Breaking apart, the women look each other in the eyes. Both happy to have each other in their lives.

"I loooooove YOOOOU!!!" Luna swings a laughing Casie around. "See you soon?"

"Yup." Casie grins.

"Find a new home for your necklace for bed and shower time?" Luna asks with a tinge of authority.

"YES." Casie asserts, grin wider.

"Good shit. Love you, Dill." Luna holds Her Girl close and tight.

Emma appreciating the way they interact with each other as she watches them. Knowing Casie is safe with Luna.

"Ready, Kitten?" Colson asks as he kisses the top of Luna's head.

Before leaving, he grabs Casie again loving on her like there's no tomorrow. Giggling as his kisses tickle her skin.

After setting Casie down and saying their final GoodByes, he grabs Luna's hand. Leading her to the waiting uber. While in Cleveland, Colson has a specific mission.

-------------------------------------------------

On The Bus, somewhere between Colorado and Idaho, Sam has convinced Ashleigh to get fucked up with her and The Boys.

Cards are being thrown with jokes as music flows. Smoke billowing throughout The Bus.

Leaning into Baze, Sam seductively asks "How pissed you think they'd be if we stole their bed tonight?" Wicked grin spreading across her pretty face.

"Wanna find out?" He grins back to her tantalizing giggle.

--------------------------------------------------

Inside The Cleveland House, Colson heads straight upstairs. Luna outside to smoke a cigarette. She doesn't like smoking around Casie so it's been HOURS.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Opening the door to his safe, Colson pulls out a tiny box. Opening it, the huge ruby gleams at him. Solidifying that he knows he made the right decision.

Having been almost a month since he last gazed at it, he can't help but be proud of himself. And Rook. "It's perfect. Beautiful and unique. Just like her.... She's gonna love it." He thinks excitedly.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Luna's chain smoking on the picnic table out back. Letting the warm summer sun kiss her colorful skin.

"Come're...." Colson tries to coax her.

"Whhhhyyyy.....?" Luna whines as she scrunches her face, wanting to light another cigarette.

"Just shut the fuck up and come here." Colson tells her.

"Fine." Luna pouts as she takes his hand.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Walking into the kitchen, Colson hits play on a remote. Taking Luna in his arms as Clapton begins to float around them.

He sings to her the same way he did the night they first met. Holding her close and changing whichever lyrics he chooses. Luna's so dumb she doesn't know what's happening. She just thinks Colson's sweet as she rests inside of him.

As the ending guitar chords float away, Colson drops to his knee. Having the song on repeat, he takes Luna's hand as it continues to drift around them.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She asks, slightly bewildered.

"Doing this shit right." He asserts.

Looking up at her, Colson sees his entire future in Luna's eyes. Taking a deep breath, he has nothing prepared as usual. Their whole relationship is based off of instinct.

"I know you love the ring I made for you but I bought you a real one way before it. If you don't like it, we'll fix it or...." He says as he holds her left hand, slipping the metal string off her finger and setting it on the kitchen island. "You can keep the one you have.... Just as long as you promise to still marry me." He says as he pops the lid.

It's a gorgeous 10 carat oval ruby. Surrounded by small diamonds. Taking Luna's breath away on sight.

"I know you don't do diamonds, so, it's your birthstone with mine wrapped around it to protect you.... Not that you need protec...."

Colson can't even finish his sentence before Luna's on her knees in front of him. Tears falling down her cheeks as her kisses shut him up.

Her bare hands run up the sides of his face as she sinks her deep kisses into his mouth. Pushing him off his knees to straddle him. Their kisses are passionate and heavy as Colson tangles his fingers in her hair. Pulling out of her kiss, he gently holds her face in his large hands.

"Is that a Yes?" He asks.

"That's a FUCK YES." She laughs as she pushes her mouth back onto his.

Unable to contain themselves, Luna unbuckles Colson's belt. Lifting up, he helps her pull them down. Only bothering to pull her panties to the side, Luna guides him inside of her. Both groaning in pleasure.

Kissing each other sloppily as Luna slides up and down on Colson's cock he needs her body. Pulling her dress over her head, he's beyond pleased to find her braless as he suckles her pierced breasts. Naked, she bucks against him. Wanting her more than ever before, he carefully flips her on her back.

Throwing her legs over his shoulders, Colson pushes deep inside of Luna. Making her moan in pleasure as he fucks her on the kitchen floor. Mouth kissing hers as if they'll both die without the other. Moving to her cheeks, he kisses anywhere he can reach. Both whispering Sweet Nothing's instead of their normal Dirty Words.

Feeling her thighs grip his waist and walls clench his cock, he nuzzles into her neck and ear. Claiming I FUCKING LOVE YOU as they cum for each other.

Satisfied, Colson rests on top of her. He's by no means fat but Luna's tiny and with her gunshot wound he feels like he has to be extra careful with her. Kissing her forehead, he rolls out of her. Reaching blindly on the ground around them, he finds the box.

Sliding his arm under her head, he presents the symbol of their commitment. Asking Yes? With love pouring out of her eyeballs and heart, she gives him a teasing smile.

"I mean I guess I could say Yes for the 110th time." She laughs as she rolls towards him, locking her lips onto his.

Their kisses say EVERYTHING. Things that even couples who've been married for 50yrs still can't say.

Holding her hand out, Colson slips his ring upon her finger. Holding her hand out in front of them, they clutch each other while they both try to hold back tears.

"It's fucking beautiful." She happily sighs.

"I told you not to doubt me." He lightly chuckles as he pulls her tighter.

Teasing her about how he knows what she likes. Laughing out a Fuck You, she climbs back on top of him.

Taking her time as she slowly rides him. Enjoying every inch of his dick along with every touch from his hands and mouth.

Luna and Colson don't make love. They fuck like animals but on the kitchen floor with his ring on her finger their touches are softer. Kinder. Gentle as they enjoy every inch of each other in the afternoon sunlight.

It's a long, hard cum. Both feeling like they may seize out from the pleasure. Completely entwined in each other, they take a light, naked, engaged, snooze on the kitchen floor.  The excitement of a life together dancing in both of their heads.

--------------------------------------------------

Colson stirs first. The hard floor waking him up against Luna's warm body. Brushing her hair from her face, he looks down. The huge ruby glistening on her finger catches his eye as her hand rests on his chest.

"Fuck.... How'd I get so fucking lucky?" He questions himself. "Em's right.... I can't fuck this up." His heart begins to panic.

Feeling his chest pounding under her hand, it's as if her sixth sense kicks in. Opening her eyes, she asks if He's Okay.

"As long as I'm with you." He answers, kissing her sweetly on her forehead.

"Mmmm..." She nuzzles into him contently. "What time is it?" She asks.

"I don't know, but we should move. We gotta be outta here by 9P...." He answers.

Luna pouts as she nuzzles into his chest. Asking if They Can Quit Their Jobs And Be Pirates. Please. Colson lightly laughs at her fantastic request. Asserting that Being Pirates Would Be Awesome Buuut He Doesn't Think It's That Easy. Leaving Luna to sigh in disappointment.

"Come on...." He begins to shift off the floor.

"Noooo.... I don't wanna...." She whines as he moves to pull her up to stand with him.

"I know... Me neither. 10 days though." He reminds her with a twinkle in his eyes.

This makes her move. Slapping his ass, she shouts Race You as she bounds up the stairs to the shower.

"Grab my real ring, please?" She hollers down the stairs.

Unable to stop the smile that is hurting his face he hits his IG before following her upstairs.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

"110xs I've asked her and she keeps saying Yes. I'm lucky AF and she's crazy insane. Imma 🔐 that sweet ass down quick. Bet. Saturday at #EstFest One of the most IMPORTANT days of my life. BE THERE. CUZ SHITS GONNA BE 🔥🔥🔥 #badthings WILL happen bc I LOVE A FUCKING LUNATIC 😈❤🐈 💯"

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Luna's upstairs waiting for him. Naked. Joint in mouth. Lines cut out. Drink in hand. Hot shower running for them.

Tossing her arms around him, he lifts her up. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she holds the joint as he hits it and carries her into the bathroom.

The way they easily move with each other makes their synchronicity enviable. Puffing on the joint, Luna drops it in an ashtray on the sink before he takes both of them into the shower.

Slowly and softly fucking each other. For a moment, before their hunger and animal instincts take over.

"Bend me over..." Luna huskily begs in Colson's ear.

Happily indulging her, he pulls her hair and fucks her the way they both like. Gripping her hips as he pushes himself deep inside of her. Leaving Luna to shake in pleasure as she feels his cum fill her insides.

--------------------------------------------------

Out of the shower they blow the lines waiting for them. Lighting a joint as they get dressed. Kissing and playfully teasing each other as they burn along the way.

"Where's my other ring?" Luna asks.

"Right there..." Colson points to the dresser.

Luna grabs it, slipping it onto her right hand. Wiggling her fingers she admires both.

"You're gonna wear that one too?" He asks.

"Uhmmmm. Fuck yeeeaahhh." Luna looks at him weirdly. "It's my original."

Thinking she would toss it, Colson adores her logic. Along with her Love of Them

Throwing on black skinnies and a cutoff hoodie, Luna laughs as Colson pulls his black Chucks on too.

"Come're Kitty....." He swings her around on the bed to tie her shoe.

"I fucking LOVE yooou." She states as she watches him with adoration.

"Love-LOVE YOU." He grins, kissing her newly blinging finger as he pulls her up.

Colson orders an uber as Luna collects their things. Pulling off the black hoodie he had put on, Colson looks for the particular one he wants. They're both headed out. On separate flights. Him to Boise to meet up The Boys for another show. Her to Mexico City for a performance with Ashley.

Getting the alert that their ride is there, Luna grabs Colson. Gripping him tightly around his waist as she burrows into his naked chest. Inhaling his sweet smell. It's a mix of weed, his cologne Jean Paul and Luna.

"I love you." She states as she looks up into his brilliant blue eyes.

"Forever?" He asks.

"Beyond." She answers as she pulls him down for a kiss before letting him go.

Finding the grey hoodie he wants, Colson grabs Luna's ass cheek. Also kissing her face cheek as he asks If She's Ready.

With her nod, he shouts "We Out!!!"

Her laughter tickles his soul as they head back on The Road. Holding hands along the way

--------------------------------------------------

Luna flies out at 10P. Colson 11P. Walking her to her gate, they hold each other for as long as they can.

Calling for boarding, Colson grabs Luna. Lifting her high for her to wrap her entire being around him. The way they both like.

"Two days." They reassure each other with laughter at their jinx.

Pulling back, Luna tells him She Loves Him before kissing him solidly.

"I love you. Go kill Mexico City and come back to me." He tells her, causing a rise of small tears in her eyes. "Heeey... Two days, Bunny Love." He tries to reassure her again.

"I know...." She lightly whimpers. "I just hate to leave you...." She sighs as a solid tear drops.

It breaks Colson's heart as he wipes it off her cheek with his thumb. He hates when they're apart.

"Then... Seven days. Me and you. Married. With nothing else.." He grins as he reminds her of their short and long term goals.

Squeezing him tighter with her thighs and arms, Luna kisses him with everything inside of her. Pulling back, she looks him in the eyes before softly pecking his lips.

"Seven days." She asserts with a woeful sigh.

"Go." He tells her with a kiss on the lips and solid slap on the ass.

Luna can't help but break out into a grin over and for him. Kissing him quickly, she grabs her carry on before heading down the terminal.

"Seven DAYS!!!" She shouts as she looks over her shoulder. "I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!!" Her voice lingers in his ear as she disappears.

Heart throbbing for Luna immediately, Colson halls ass through Cleveland's airport. Barely making his own 7hr flight. Missing it would've been worth it to him just to see her off.

-------------------------------------------------

Settled, Luna touches her new ring. It's so big and different from her original. Looking at both, her eyes well up at Colson's words. Looking down at the new one, she sees him wrapped all around her. Missing him instantly.

"Seven days......" She sighs to herself. Already missing her puzzle piece. Popping two bars to sleep through her own 7hr flight.

--------------------------------------------------

To be continued.....

[chocolatemillkk]

Baby Steps (JS)

Request 1: y/n is more of a thick girl, and one day buttercream squad comes over and joke about y/n weight and she always felt insecure about that so she stopped eating and started to work out really hard, nearly passing out and then joe finds about that...sometime later the buttercream squad comes over and she's afraid to spend time with them and joe says something like eat and then you can go, and boys are confused and then y/n and joe have argument...

Request 2: could you do a joe imagine where you meet the butter creams for the first time and they make you feel really insecure and you go home and joe has a go at them for being horrible

These two were similar-one more specific than the other so I've just combined them. Alsooo this could be a sensitive topic so a tw for anyone dealing w issues mentioned above! 💙

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Are you sure she can borrow a shirt?

The one line circles my mind over and over as I up the speed on the treadmill. I was never self conscious about my weight around Joe, he treated me like he would anybody else. And he only ever called me beautiful. But it was when his friends came over a few weeks ago, I'd decided to join them all. Joe and I had been dating for over a year but I rarely spent time with his friends. Joe mentioned something about me borrowing something of his if I wanted to have an early night and one of the boys made a comment low enough that Joe didn't hear but whether they intended or not-I had.

If Joe's not planning on wearing it anymore, somebody else had responded but by then my vision was too blurry to catch who said it.

My heart rate goes faster and faster as I pump my legs to keep up on the treadmill. There was a reason I didn't want to meet my boyfriend's friends but he thought it was long overdue.

Are you sure she can borrow a shirt?

I grab a salad in a cafe nearby and ride the tube to work. I drink three coffees-all black of course and the morning's negativity begin to wear off. I was in control; I was working out and eating very little which meant nobody could make fun of me soon.

My phone dings with a message on my way home from work. Joe's snapped me a picture of dinner's ingredients and my stomach churns at the sight of the carbs he's planning on loading it with. Are you sure she can borrow a shirt?

Y/N: I don't know if I can make it. I lie to my boyfriend. Well, I didn't actually know if I could make myself eat. Not exactly a lie, I reason with myself.

Joe: I can come over in the evening with a tupperware if you want?

I couldn't say no to that so I tell him yes. I enter my empty flat and decide to get some work done but as I sit in from of my screen I begin to feel nauseous. I grab a glass of water but the feeling creeps back up again. I should lie down.

I don't hear Joe enter but he rushes to me when he arrives. "Y/N, are you not well?"

My eyes flutter open to see the concern on my boyfriend's face so I quickly put a brave face on. "I was just taking a nap I'm alright." I sit up and grab the bags in his hand.

"I've bought dessert too in case you haven't had anything to eat." He follows me into the small kitchen.

"Oh I had a bite earlier maybe I'll have some later." I kiss him thanks but he pulls me back to him.

"You sure you alright? You've been acting funny the past few weeks." He makes sure I'm looking at him but I put on my biggest smile.

"Never been better," I say. I'd been working out twice a day and keeping my calories low. I was doing great.

Joe's continues to watch me intensely before kissing me tenderly. "I love you you know that?"

"I do," I laugh. "I love you but you know that."

"It's nice to be reminded," he says against my lips as he kisses me again. "If you're not too busy the boys are going out for drinks. You want to join?"

If Joe's not planning on wearing it anymore

"No I'm really busy," I say. "Maybe next time?" So Joe leaves to hang out and I finish up work before working out one last time. Before bed I make sure to toss the dessert, I didn't want it to tempt me.

•••

All throughout the week I decline Joe's offer to eat out or to go for drinks but on Sunday I have no excuse left. After the gym I head to Joe's place where he's prepared breakfast but after the first few bites I feel bloated so I stick to the coffee.

"Is it not good?" Joe asks me during breakfast.

"No it's amazing, I'm just not that hungry." I say. My guilty conscious nudges me, I was lying to Joe so much but I had to. He wouldn't understand.

"You're not...have you been eating?" Joe sounds hesitant but he holds my hand across the table.

"Yeah of course!" I put a piece of toast in my mouth to prove my point.

"You don't look so well," he says quietly.

"What's that mean?" I demand. I looked the best I had in ages, why didn't he like it?

"I just mean you don't look like you're well," Joe pleads but I shake him off and I stand up quickly. Too quickly. The blood rushes to my head and my knees buckle as my vision swims in black and I faint.

When I come to I'm on Joe's couch and he's pacing back and forth. I try to sit up but my head spins so I lay back down. "Y/N," Joe sits beside me. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I turn my head away but Joe goes on.

"Y/N listen to me. What you're doing isn't healthy! Don't think I haven't noticed your excuses and your salads and all the times you're at the gym! I understand if you want to get fit for yourself but what you're doing right now is not healthy do you not see?"

"You don't understand," I whisper.

"I do!" Joe jumps up. "I know what you're doing but I want you to understand it's not right, love! It hurts me to see you putting yourself through this unhealthy diet! You're beautiful Y/N I love you the way you are you don't need to starve yourself!"

"I do!" I lash out. "Don't you see the way people always look at us! They eye me thinking 'poor Joe why's he going out with somebody like that?' Don't you hear the things other people-even your friends say about me? You're perfect and toned and I'm flabby and just..." And without meaning to I begin crying. All the pressure I've put on myself finally hits and soon Joe has wrapped me up and is holding me close.

"I'm sorry you've felt this way," he tells me after I've calmed down. "Talk to me. And you need to take care of yourself. I love you just the way you are. I wish you would love yourself the same," Joe says to me as if reassuring the thoughts I'd just been having. "Promise me you'll try. Take it easy with baby steps. I don't want to lose you."

I look at Joe and he has tears in his eyes which mirror mine. I didn't want to lose him too. "I promise I'll try," I say and he kisses my forehead.

•••

It's hard at first, my stomach heaves at more than a few bites and my mind keeps whispering bad thoughts but because I promised Joe I try to eat a little bit at each meal. It becomes a thing between Joe and I for me to snap him my meals or boomerang me eating them and he joins in and sends them himself. But I do sometimes skip meals and I can tell Joe is still worried. Yet throughout the week I continue getting texts asking me if I ate and the gentle reminders help me. I continue going to the gym but I begin to feel better with the portions I take.

A few weeks later Joe invites me to his for an end-of-the-summer get together with his friends and I want so badly to say no but I'm forced to come. I dress in a long sleeved dress that comes to my knees and make sure to feel nice so any comments I can try to deflect. But as soon as I get to his flat I freeze outside the door, unable to open the it.

Are you sure she can borrow a shirt?

My heart races. Deep breaths. I reach for the door but it swings open.

"Oh, Y/N! Hey!" Caspar leans in for a hug. "Sorry just need to step out I forgot to get the beer."

I make my way in, butterflies working up a storm inside my stomach and my lungs restricting, making it harder to breathe. Suddenly a hand grabs my arm and I know by the shape of it it's Joe.

"Hey love, glad you came." He kisses me on the cheek.

"Yeah, here." I hand him the bottle of rosé I brought.

"You look gorgeous," Joe admires me and I'm suddenly embarassed for my earlier doubts. He kisses me more passionately this time and I get lost in it until I remember his friends were in the other room.

"I should go say hello," I laugh, wiping the lipstick from Joe's mouth. He pouts but we walk in anyway.

"Oh Y/N is here," one of Joe's friends calls out. "We were wondering when you'd show!"

"Hey," I wave at everybody who asks how I am.

"Y/N brought rosé, Jack will be seeing the bottom of this bottle." Joe jokes and all the boys laugh. The attention shifts and I let out a sigh. I was in the clear.

Everyone slowly relaxes, mostly me, after the alcohol runs freely and I get more comfortable with the boys. I only pick at the foods Joe's ordered in, drinking a few beers instead and I can feel Joe keeping an eye on me.

"You should get something in you if you're planning on drinking any more," Joe whispers to me once we've all gathered in front of his projector, scrolling through our phones with conversation scattered about.

"I'm fine," I say curtly. I didn't want Joe to bring it up, not in front of his friends.

"You're gonna throw up later and be hungover for days at the rate you're going," he says a little more aggressively.

"Don't worry." I say quietly and turn back to Jack who was addressing everyone.

"...and we should check out that new club in central," Jack calls out. Most of the boys are ready to go but Joe reminds them they said they'd help clean up after the mess they made when Josh dared Mikey and Conor to have a drinking contest.

I get up to clear away the table of bottles but Joe grabs my hand. He speaks low enough so only the two of us hear. "You have to eat something or you're not going out to drink more."

"So what?" I whisper but it must be louder than intended because a few of the boys look our way.

"Don't be difficult," Joe pushes me over to the side of the room. He leans in closer, "I'm not letting you go out if you don't eat something. I don't want to go over this again love."

"You're being a downer Joe," I cross my arms over my chest.

"Y/N if you don't eat something we're staying home," Joe raises his voice, unbothered if his friends hear anymore.

"What's happening?" Someone asks.

"Nothing! I'm talking to her," Joe says angrily.

"Don't treat me like a bloody child!" I say louder than a whisper. "I'm perfectly fine going!"

"Y/N I'm saying it because I care and you know that! Skipping meals is not healthy!"

"No! You're suffocating me! And why don't you just tell everyone some more!" I yell. I couldn't believe he'd said that out loud. I push past Joe and leave the room-why did anything I do seem wrong!? I start to cry and I definitely did not want his friends to see.

"Y/N!" Joe calls after me but I make my way out.

"How long..." I hear one of his friends ask and the embarassment washes over me in waves. I already felt so insecure in front of them and now this! The tears roll over and down my cheeks and I'm sobbing by the time I get to the bus stop.

My phone begins ringing but I silence it. I hated arguing with Joe and I didn't want to talk.

"Y/N!" A voice yells out from the top of the street. "Hold on!"

Joe's tint frame gets larger as he comes closer, out of breath. "Y/N I'm sorry."

"I hate arguing with you," I tell him.

"Me too," he pulls me in as soon as he reaches me. "I'm sorry I said that in front of my friends. I shouldn't have."

"It's okay," I say. "It's just easier said than done."

"I know," he rubs my back. "I want you to get better I'm sorry if I'm too pushy."

"Hey!" A shout from afar has us looking towards Joe's house. All his friends have gathered in a group. "We're all grabbing a bite then hitting the club. Are you two lovebirds joining?"

I can't stop the smile on my face. They were being understanding, they hadn't made fun of me. I'm relieved. I look to Joe and he's looking back at me for an answer.

"Yes!" I shout back and so Joe and I begin heading back towards them, hands looped together. Baby steps, I think. I had to get better with baby steps.