#and ive been warning you about how bad this could get for over ten years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…”

Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane.

Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot.

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form.

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds.

They were his favorite.

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this.

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month.

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity.

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings.

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream.

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him.

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping.

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since!

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind.

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck.

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching.

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go.

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen.

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins.

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?”

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.”

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.”

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here.

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action.

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes.

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high.

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time.

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down.

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.”

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now.

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly.

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist.

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy.

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can.

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck.

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer.

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question.

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets.

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.”

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides.

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry.

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes.

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be.

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest.

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly.

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?”

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign.

He strikes while the iron is still hot.

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion.

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort.

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months.

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it.

Kinda.

Probably.

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over.

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing.

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders.

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off.

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face.

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing.

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting.

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.)

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you.

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone.

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more.

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs.

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it.

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him.

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top.

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror.

He’s never seen you like this before.

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life.

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips.

And then something unforgivable happens.

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information.

Your hand.

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness.

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face.

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant.

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.”

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.”

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him.

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him.

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip.

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now.

The sympathy doesn’t last long.

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams.

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand.

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this.

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches.

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are.

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out.

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him.

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead.

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.”

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands.

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!)

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead.

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises.

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock.

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon.

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time.

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.”

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago.

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap.

There was never a choice.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts jungkook #mine #skirtfic

2K notes · View notes

rommahh · 3 years

Text

I Carry Your Heart

Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 4k

{Ahhhh ok so this is my first work like ever. There will definitely be a second part because ive got more to say and it needs a second part. I hope whoever sees and reads this imagine enjoys it. I appreciate comments, likes, reblogs, ideas on what could go into the story, and any form of help and redirection as to how i should write things. Much love, R.}.

Part two

All Y/N wanted tonight was to hang out with her boyfriend, eat a mass amount of junk food, and watch a marvel movie or two. That was all she wanted and that was all she asked of her boyfriend. Instead of any of that happening, she found herself sitting on the nasty kitchen island of her boyfriend's frat at a party that she was trying to avoid going to.

This party was supposedly ‘the party of the year.’ The last rager before finals and then christmas break. Y/N had spent the whole week studying and finishing up end of semester projects hence the want for a chill night. When Harry came to her saying his frat was throwing a party tonight and that he just HAD to be here, Y/N didn't feel like she had a choice but to let him go. She came because she thought this would be the only time she would be able to have some time with Harry after a long week of barely seeing each other. With two vastly different majors, the couple wasnt able to find a lot of time in the middle of school work to make time for just the two of them. Obviously her hopes of quality time with her man were futile because here she was sitting by herself in the kitchen of the frat while Harry drank and got high with his friends in other parts of the house.

Of course she was disappointed. She felt a knot in her throat and a weight on her chest just sitting there in that kitchen. Her white claw was warm now- not that it was any cold when she opened it. She was starting to form a small headache from the too loud music and the ache in her heart was growing.

She stood from the countertop on the search for her boyfriend, hoping he wasn't too far gone from sober. Wiping the back of her jeans from anything that was left on the island, she began walking around the house. She doesn't remember the last time the two of them spent time together by themselves. Of course they occasionally ate dinner together in the dining hall but they were normally surrounded by friends. Y/N wanted to be alone with her boyfriend to talk and bask in his presence.

After pushing through groups of partying humans, she found Harry and at least ten other people sitting around playing some sort of drinking game.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” Luca, one of Harry's frat brothers yelled out to her from the circle. Luca was cool, he was one of the only tolerable boys in this frat aside from Harry. Hearing his girlfriend's name, Harry turned around from where he sat on the ground and reached out for his girlfriend to sit beside him. Much to Y/N’s dismay, Harry was wasted. His eyes were half mass and his words bumped and slurred together. “We are playing truth or dare, wanna play?” Luca asked.

“I don't wanna play but Ill sit and watch.” Sitting next to her boyfriend, she grabbed one of his hands holding it in her lap. She was annoyed at him but it did her no good to show it when he was this drunk.

This game of truth or dare was childish. Dares of licking people's shoes and taking multiple shots had been done and truths about money and relationships were being spilled among the group. It had finally become Harry’s turn to do something, making Y/N tense.

“Ok Harry, I dare you to…” One drunk frat boy started looking around the room trying to come up with something clever. His eyes landed on a pretty girl in the room, Yara, a stuck up girl who for sure got her way no matter what. “I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room- obviously not your girlfriend because that defeats the purpose.” The frat boy smirked knowing what his intentions were. Everyone in the group giggles and gasped shocked by the dare but ready to see what was going to go down. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she became angry with the stupid dare.

The ache in her chest seemed to tip over the edge when she felt her boyfriend in the room move to stand up. She grabbed at the bottom of his shirt as a way of stopping him. Harry halted his movements to look down at his girlfriend. He giggled a little.

“You’re not actually going to do this right?” She asked Harry with wide eyes of shock. Harry laughed at her like she made a joke, making her heart hurt even more.”Harry I do not want you to do this just take the shot and lose the dare.” Her tone held warning.

“Don't be silly of course I'm going to. It's just a dare, nothing serious. Don't be so clingy.” He stood walking over to Yara and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. Yara gripped Harry’s shirt and kissed him harder. The kiss went on for a few more seconds, the room absolutely silent out of shock. Harry stepped back from Yara slightly sobering up from his actions. Yara smirked at Y/N, hand gliding down the front of Harry's shirt.

Y/N stood from the seat she was in and scoffed. Scoffed because she should've known Harry would do something like this. Scoffed because it hurt to see her boyfriend do something so careless without any regard for his girl's feelings. She pulled herself together, feeling her throat tighten once again. She was quick to leave the room and down the hall of the frat.

Harry's clumsy steps could be heard from behind her as he mumbled her name. Or at least he tried to. He was still so out of it, his words not making much sense. Y/N was crying now, the strength that she had slowly dissolving as she walked further away from her boyfriend.

“Y/N wait. P-please wait. I cant-” Harry stumbled over his legs behind her falling into the grass of the front yard. The girl couldn't help but turn around looking at her stupid boyfriend. She was choking on sobs now. She wasn't crying over a measly little kiss but over an extreme amount of burnout from school and exhaustion from simply existing. She was crying because her boyfriend ignored her boundaries, crushing and erasing the boundaries she had set in their relationship. Harry tried reaching for her once she had stopped walking. His hand clasped around her wrist, he laid his head down on her shoulder. He hated seeing her cry even if he was too drunk to see why.

“Baby don't leave, Im-Im Sorry.” He hiccuped and burped due to the alcohol. Y/N felt her rage build. Shoving Harry off of her, she crossed her arms across her chest as a way to shield herself from Harry physically. He was hurt by her distance and the wall she put up around her.

“You're an idiot Harry. An idiot!” her sobs grew louder, some stray party goers watching in amusement- some even snapchatting it for shits and giggles. “I didnt want you to kiss her and you did. What provoked you to think that was ok? All I wanted was for us to hang out tonight and just be us and you did this!” She was yelling now. Her hurt is beyond her now. Anger and rage simmered throughout her body making her head dizzy and her fingers curl within themselves. She didnt like being angry. It wasn't an emotion she liked acting on, it felt impersonal.

“Baby I don't under-” Before Harry could finish his sentence he was barfing at his feet. Y/N stepped back disgusted with her boyfriend. She couldn't even feel remorseful because of how angry she was. Luca, the frat brother from earlier, caught up with Harry and his girl only to find Harry doubled over heaving. Luca wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

“I'm sorry Luca but I can't do this tonight. Can you please make sure he gets some water and goes to bed. I-I can't do it tonight, I wish I could but I can't.” Y/N didn't want to leave her boyfriend in this state but she didn't deserve this. She wasn't going to care for her drunk boyfriend when all she wanted to do was care for herself. Selfishly, she enjoyed seeing him this way because of the anger he caused her.

Luca shook his head in understandment. “Of course, I'm really sorry for tonight. He's going to seriously regret this in the morning, especially since it will be circulating all over snapchat in the morning.” Luca waved to Y/N then proceeded to pull Harry into the house. Harry called out for Y/N not wanting to be away from her but Luca pulled him harder.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling like the bottom of a dumpster. He wasn't shocked by that. He knew he got trashed last night, he had planned to. He, just like Y/N, spent all week studying and completing projects while also fulfilling certain responsibilities for his frat. He wanted one night to be a normal teen. So he drank and drank and drank and maybe even smoked some weed. As he tried to recall last night's events he came up with nothing. He didn't understand why Y/N wasn't here with him like she normally would after a party on the weekend. They were normally always together during the weekend. A bad feeling loomed over him. He could tell something wasn't right but decided to put his feelings to the side.

He saw a bottle of water beside his bed making him think she was probably here and left early. Chugging the water he started to go through his socials to see if anyone had posted about the party. He had multiple tagged pics and videos in his notifications from snapchat. Way more than he normally would.

The first video he saw was a video of him and Y/N standing in the front yard of the frat house. Turning the volume all the way up he could hear Y/N yelling, it shocked him. She doesn't normally raise her voice, especially not at him. The angle changed showing her face which was red with anger, eyes filled with unshed tears. He could hear her yelling about him kissing someone else. He felt his heart stop. He had kissed someone else? On the next snap was a picture of him keeled over vomiting on his shoes with the caption saying, ‘are yall seeing this shit?’ Harry was embarrassed but he was more concerned than anything.

His head was hurting but it didn't stop him from rolling out of bed, washing up, and putting on a fresh set of clothes. He checked his phone hoping Y/N had messaged him but nothing was there. He walked into the kitchen only to see luca sitting at the counter eating cereal.

“Hey Harry….” Luca said warily. Luca pushed the cereal around his bowl feeling the tension begin to rise in the room. He felt horrible about his friends.

“Luca...what's up?” Harry was confused by Lucas' wariness.

“So do you remember anything about last night?” Luca asked, setting his cereal down in the sink behind him. Harry started playing with the frayed edges of a bracelet Y/N made for him. It had little beads with her name on it. They made them together at an event on campus.

“I don't, I only saw the videos of Y/N screaming at me. I think I fucked up but I- I don't know what happened.” Harry's cheek flushed with even more embarrassment. Luca awkwardly chuckled scratching the back of his neck.

“You got dared to kiss the hottest girl in the room and um actually did it in front of Y/N...even though she didn't want you to. Which led you guys outside and yeah you know the rest...Im sorry dude, I wish I had stopped you.”

“Who- who did I kiss?” Harrys stomach lurched when he heard Yara’s name come out of Lucas' name. Y/N didn't like Yara and it was understandable. Yara has been pining after Harry since their first year of college. Harry couldn't breathe. He felt disgusted with himself. He could only imagine how Y/N was feeling.

Y/N woke up the same morning, eyes puffy and crusty from tears and head hurting. She probably cried herself into dehydration. She was lucky enough to have no roommate because she wouldn't have wanted someone else to see her breakdown. She still couldn't believe last night went down the way it went down. She couldn't tell if she was just being overdramatic or if her emotions were in the right place. She didn't want to be mad at Harry. He was everything to her, she had an odd connection to him. Meeting him during their freshman welcome week they quickly became best friends with a growing romantic connection in the mix. They started dating before Christmas break. They had grown close so fast that he even came home with her to meet her family for the first few days of break. Even though they were in their junior year of college, Y/N could see them beyond college. She's imagined them getting married, travelling, sharing a home. She saw the whole future with him. She had her doubts though. He was immature just like every other boy in college. He was dumb with his actions and tended to only do things if they benefited him. He had a lot of growing to do as a person, so did she but she wanted to grow with him.

She heard a knock on her door hesitating to answer it because one, it could be Harry, and two, she looked like a wreck. Answering anyways, she was met with a very sorry looking Harry holding a small coffee and bagel from their cafe.

“Hi baby…” He sheepishly said holding out the items. She silently let him through the door not once looking him in the eye. He stepped into her room, setting her treats on her desk. He could see that her bed was messy meaning she recently woke up. Y/N never went about her day without making her bed. He turned back to her and finally their eyes met. He took in all of her facial features, from her puffy eyes, to her downturned lips that looked chapped, to her flushed cheeks that longed to be held for warmth. He hated to see her like this, the last time he saw her so upset was when her parents moved out of her childhood home. It took alot to make Y/N this upset. She was normally really headstrong and vigilant. She knew how to ease her way out of problematic situations and could talk her way through anything.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Y/N holding her hand up in front of his face. “Don't talk. I'm really hurt Harry, so if your plan was to come over here and apologize over bagels- think again.” She snapped, backing up to put space between the two of them. She sat down on her bed while Harry pulled the desk chair out and sat down. He much preferred to be on the bed with her holding her tight but he didn't want to overstep boundaries.

“Love, I don't know where to begin. I'm really sorry for what happened last night. I was really drunk and obviously wasn't in the right headspace.” Harry reached out and touched the tips of her fingers with his. She wanted to move but it felt good to be touched by Harry.

“I told you that a measly little apology won't do Harry. I didn't want you to kiss Yara and you did anyway. You know how Yara feels about you and you just let it happen!” She pulled her hand away remembering the prior night's events. Harry felt himself getting angry too. He felt like he needed to defend himself- even though it would be a very bad idea.

“I think you're being over dramatic.” Wrong move Harry. “It wasn't like I was making out with her!”

“You're joking right?” She scoffed and scooted further up her bed to create more distance. “Harry it's the simple fact that you did something that made me uncomfortable that shouldn't have even happened. I see myself getting married to you and it makes me worry that right now in our relationship you can't respect my boundaries!” She yelled. Harry’s eyes widened as he laughed sarcastically.

“Married? What the fuck are you on about? I'm a junior in college. In what world would it make sense for me to be prepping a relationship for marriage? Once again I think you're being over dramatic.” Her eyes watered hearing Harry's statement.

“I- I guess I'm the only one in this relationship thinking about the future? I thought we were on the same page. I'm not planning our marriage now, obviously. I'm thinking about how elements of our relationship now could play out in the future when we do want to get married. You cheated on me last night. I went to a party you begged ME to go to only to be there for you. I wanted to be here cuddling with you, pigging out on fast food but I was at a party with you and got cheated on!” Her volume rises once again, making Harry shove his chair from underneath him when he stands up.

“You're doing too much right now. I'm not planning a future right now because I don't want this future! I want to be myself without thinking about how to appease my girlfriend. I invited you to the party so you could lighten the fuck up. I love you, I do, but I'm not thinking of marriage and futures. I'm thinking about my life right now and having fun.” Harry snapped right back at her. Her chin wobbled. Obviously her and Harry were on different pages. It hurt so much to hear him say that he didn't want a future with her. Harry didn't mean it though.

“Ok, well I guess that's my fault for assuming we were thinking along the same lines. Um, I don't want to hold you back from being yourself so with that being said, you are a free man Harry.” She pushed herself up from her bed walking to the door ready to escort Harry out.

“Huh? Love, what?” Harry was confused on how they got to this point. Just a few days ago they were in love, meeting in the library to share a lunch and exchanging sweet words determined by their love.

“Listen I have a day full of exams tomorrow so if you could just leave that would be best. You don't really want this so I'm letting you go, Harry.” She had tears rolling down her face, falling from her eyes down to her chin where they fell to the ground in droplets. Harry’s eyes welled up watching his love cry before him.

“I don't-”

“Harry, leave, please.” She opened the door making room for him to go through. He walked through the door turning to look at her. She turned her face away from him whispering a small goodbye before shutting the door. Harry was left in the silent hallway, so silent he could hear his thoughts and the tears hitting the tile floor beneath him. He thinks he stood there for at least thirty more minutes before accepting what had happened and walking away.

Leaving Y/N in her room sobbing like she had never done before. Her tears coated her face and she thought her head could explode right then and there. She didn't want to accept what had happened but she had priorities. She composed herself enough to start studying for her exams.

The week rolled by quickly, Monday meeting Friday in a flash. Exams were done and Christmas break was on the horizon. Students were piling off of campus in a hurry ready to get home to their loved ones. People were outside by cars loading up their winter necessaries and saying their goodbyes to their close friends.

Harry cried everyday this week. He wasn't normally a crier. He hated crying, he hated the feeling of crying and the headache that came from it. He cried because he realized how wrong he was. He missed Y/N. He missed finals week dinner together where they tried to get off campus at least once and be alone for a moment. He missed watching her relax while eating food that wasn't from their school's cafeteria. He would pay for their meal just so she could have one less thing to worry about. They would normally get frozen yogurt right after too, Y/N getting as many toppings as she wanted because Harry would be the one paying. He missed her tight after exam hugs. She would squeeze his shoulders tight, smiling into his neck, telling him how proud she was of him. She would bring him tea in the morning when they met for breakfast. Sometimes they would spend the night in one or the others room so they could have time together to destress and just talk.

Y/N wasn't doing any better. She normally went into exam week feeling confident. She studied too hard not to. But this week she felt like shit. Her heart hurt and she kept thinking about the fight. She feels like she overreacted but hearing Harry talk about their lack of a future hurt nonetheless. She really assumed that they did have a future that included marriage and a life together. She didn't understand where his sudden lack of commitment came from. She regretted dumping him but at the same time she wished he did more to get them back together but he was silent. He hasn't contacted her at all and avoided all of their spots on campus all together.

She stood by her car prepping for her six hours car ride back home. Packing away her clothes and some essentials in the trunk of her car, she heard light footsteps behind her. Closing her trunk she turned to see Harry standing with his hands in his pockets.

“Hi.” He said. She looked at him, putting her own hands in her pockets. It was cold outside, the nippy air hinting at a possibility of snow.

“Hi Harry.” They shared a moment of silence together. Just staring at each other. It felt good to be near each other again. They felt like they could breathe again.

“I had to see you before you left. I know the break is only a month but I didn't want to leave without seeing you.” He replied quietly. She made him feel so shy. Her beauty always made him awestruck. Even in a hoodie with their college's logo and some large sweatpants and some fuzzy crocs, she was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I don't know what to say harry.”

“It's ok. I don't deserve anything from you after what I said. I just wanted to apologize and wish you a good break before you left. I also wanted to give you this.” He pulled a small box and envelope out of the front pocket of his backpack. “I know we agreed on no presents but I think thats a dumb rule and I love you too much to not get you something.” She smiled at his words, taking the gift from his hands.

“Thank you Harry, it means a lot to me. So what are your plans for a break?” She asked him, the tension that was in the air slowly dissipating.

“I couldn't get a flight home until next wednesday so i'll stay here on campus until then.” He shrugged.

“Oh ok. Well tell Anne I said hi. I have to go Harry but I'll see you after the break, ok?” She didn't want to leave him but she didn't want to drive through the dark.

“Ok, love. Drive safe. I lov- I mean have a good break.” Her chest tightened at his hesitation. She wants to hear him say the words but she knows he won't.

“Have a good break Harry.” She whispered. Before getting in her car she stood on her toes placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Rubbing her thumb across his cheek and turning away and into her car.

She drove away knowing that her heart was left in that parking lot in the hands of someone she loves way too much.

Harry stood in the parking lot watching his heart drive away for winter wanting nothing more than to be with her.

Part two

#harry styles x reader #frat!harry #i carry your heart #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #college!harry #part 2 coming soon #harry styles smut #fratrry #boyfriend!harry

413 notes · View notes

smellslikemultifandomimagines · 3 years

Note

Jason is ruining me this season because despite all the bad shit he’s done I just want to hug him & let him know he is wanted 😫

Okay but like what if Crane actually just left Jason at Snowy Cones tied to the chair and the Titans get him back or something like that somehow they get him away from Crane & back and there’s a fight about what to do with him (mainly Gar & reader fighting to like at least get him clean before doing anything else) and idk just something soft with Jason detoxing and reader helping him and showing him people do care about him 🥺

THIS 😭

➣ pairing: jason todd x gn!reader

➣ fluff / angst

➣ word count: 1.2k

come join the titans sleepover!

Jason looked horrible.

You hadn't seen him since he left San Francisco with Rose, and though that was months ago, you hadn't stop thinking about him. You were mad, to say the least, but all of that was pushed aside when you heard the devastating news about him, one that almost broke you.

Redhood was the worst thing to become of Jason. You felt helpless and so aggravated that he was doing such things, but at the same time, you knew it was not his fault. It was Crane's, and everyone knew it too.

Tonight's mission was to take down Crane and 'Redhood's' mission to distribute the anti-fear drug, putting all your energy into fighting the guards. Perhaps it was your anger towards Jason that got you through. He had become the person that he solemnly swore he'd never become. But here he is.

But as your nearly teary eyes gaze sullenly at his sunken face, which is wet with drool and god knows what else, you know the right thing to do.

"Jesus Christ," Gar mumbles as he stands beside you, looking at the mess of a boy Crane left behind.

"We need to get him out of here," you glance over at him. He nods in agreement, unable to peel his eyes away.

"Tell me what we need to do,"

"Guys, stop." Dick cautions, putting his hands on either of your shoulders. Gar and you look at each other before glancing back at Dick. "It could be a trap."

"We can't just leave him here!" You shriek in disbelief.

"We don't know what Crane has up his sleeve right now. The best thing for us to do is to leave him here."

"Absolutely fucking not," Gar grits his teeth, knuckles almost clenching in a fist. "He's coming with us."

Jason coughs himself awake, eyes rolling as he slips in and out of consciousness. You crouch beside him, taking his hand in yours.

"Jason, can you hear me?" You ask softly, ignoring Dick's sigh of discontentment from behind you. Jason groans, eyes slowly dragging up to meet yours.

"[y/n]," he slurs with a raspy voice. You gulp and pull yourself together, knowing that now is not the time to have a breakdown.

"Yes, darling, it's me. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?"

"Hey, buddy, you doing alright?" Gar kneels on the other side of him. You run out to the car, only to return with a wet cloth and further bickering from Gar and Dick.

"We're at least cleaning him up," you snarl at him before crouching beside Jason. In your head, you count to ten, trying to find anything to distract your eyes from pricking with tears. God, he really does look awful up close. You dab his chin, wiping off the drool that drips from the corner of his mouth.

"Uh, what is going here?" Kory asks with Conner and Blackfire behind her. She stops in her tracks when she notices you and Gar, tending to Jason with such care, a sense of fear runs over her.

"I'm trying to warn them, but they're not listening," Dick murmurs to her.

"Guys, no, stop it. We need to go," she tries and pulls you away from Jason.

"Get off of me!" You almost yell, swatting her away before putting the cloth down. You move behind him and help Gar untie the rope from around Jason's waist.

"Stop and think for a second!" Kory snaps. "He could be a weapon; you don't know that."

"Yeah, and you don't either," your voice slick with venom. You were so sick of everyone blaming Jason for everything when none of them even remotely believed that they had something to do with his meltdown. "We are getting him out of here. End of story."

"[y/n]…" Dick sighs, approaching you and Gar slowly.

"No, enough. I've had it with all of you giving up on Jason like he's some piece of disposable waste. What was your speech a year ago about not giving up on family? You really seem to live up to that, now, don't you," Gar snaps.

"I-"Dick sighs again. "I know, okay. But as I said before, we all know he's working under the guise of Crane. We don't know if Jason is just a ploy, okay? It's safer—"

"For who? You or Jason? Because from the way I see it, Jason is being manipulated. You said it yourself. The best thing we can do is save him now before it's really too late," you sigh. "Now, can we please stop fighting and help him into the car, for fucks sake," you roll your eyes, having enough of this bickering. The sooner you all get out, the better.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Barbara helps you hook Jason up to an IV drip. He lays in his bed, so entirely out of it, you're not even sure if he's ever going to be okay again.

"Are you okay?" Babs consoles, knowing that this has certainly not easy for you. She knew you have been taking this the hardest out of everyone. Being one of Jason's closest friends, your time in Gotham has been spent grieving and wishing you were all in San Francisco and normal again.

Your lip trembled, eyes overflowing with tears that wet your cheeks. You practically collapse on the chair beside the bed, and Babs pulls you into her.

"I hate seeing him like this," you sob, arms stretching around her. She rubs your back, letting out gentle coos to help you calm down.

"You should go join the others," you smile weakly, pulling away and wiping your eyes.

"Are you sure? I can stay here if you need me to?"

"It's okay. Please, go enjoy tonight's successes."

She rubs your arm, apology laced in her touch before she makes her way to the kitchen, closing the door behind her. Your head drops onto the mattress beside his body. How could you have let this happen? Was this your fault too?

“[y/n]?” Jason coughs, and you swear you've never lifted your head faster.

"Hey," you smile weakly, taking his hand in yours. "How're you doing?"

"Oh, you know, pretty damn fucking great if you ask me," he scoffs. You don't mean to, but a minor chuckle releases from your throat.

"Here, you should probably have some water," you hand him a glass, and he looks at it with caution. "I haven't done anything to it if that's what you're concerned about."

He hums before gulping it all down.

"Jason," your lips trembles once again. "I'm so sorry."

Jason doesn't say anything. He rests back onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

"Why're you doing this? Don't think I'm coming back to you guys because I'm not."

"Because I care."

"Do you?" He turns to look at you.

"You know," you chuckle, looking down at your fingers. "I had the biggest crush on you. Of course, I never had the guts to say anything; you were too special of a friend for me to ruin that."

"How do I know that you're not lying?"

"Because I'm the one who saved you back there. I wasn't going to leave you, I would never to that."

There is a moment of silence that surpasses you both; neither of you knew what to say. Was he to thank you or be mad at you?

"I should probably let you rest," you cough slightly before standing up.

"Wait," Jason takes your hand in his. "Stay. Please?"

═══════*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*═══════

tag list: (click here to be apart of the tag list!)

@dylanobrienhehe //@jermaee //@boxofsteampunkplaces //@mollyknm //@greengarsstuff //@caswinchester2000 //@fandomfoodiedancer //@tsukyo //@kim23ivy //@cottonvioletsposts //@lildylsprayberryswhore //@msfandomfreak //@karleetakeenan //@theonewiththenerds //@i-love-scott-mccall //@elenapatricia99 //@zealouspursecowboydeputy //@hellraiser13-102407 //@ghostlygooppeanutwobbler //@theonewiththenerds //@sambucky8 //@thegirlyouworryabout // @littlemaladaptivedaydreamer

═══════*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*═══════

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #titans!jason #titans!jason todd #titans sleepover

258 notes · View notes

tteokggukk · 3 years

Text

summer heat → jjk

–pairing: twin!jungkook x reader

–genre: fluff, mature (? but no smut), drabble, a minor attempt at humor, best friend’s twin brother type of thing

–words: 2.9k

–warnings: explicit language, sexual tension, tiny bit of humiliation, a hint of jungkook and reader having some sort of “history” if u squint hard enough

–summary: in an attempt to calm you down and prevent your mood from swinging due to the blazing heat, your best friend decides to go out and buy you some ice cream. you’re shocked, however, when he quickly returns and looks different, making you see him in an entirely new light and leaving you trying to resist the urge to give in to your raging hormones and just jump on him.

–a/n: i was thinking of this scenario in the shower but didn’t have the brain power to turn it into a full length story so i might just add this to a pile of drabbles that i may or may not develop heh + ive been in my jungkook feels too lately sigh + also this is unedited

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum @mochisjoon @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd

It was a scorching hot summer’s day. Sweat was beginning to trickle down your temples and your shirt was getting stuck to your skin, causing an irking feeling of discomfort. Looking around, you quickly grabbed an empty long folder from your best friend’s messy desk and began fanning yourself to cool down. The two of you were just there, sitting in his room in a not-so-comfortable silence.

You were currently plopped down onto a chair with your legs resting on the desk in front of you, too lazy to come up with ideas to kill your boredom.

It was a tradition for your family to travel every summer and visit a new country you hadn’t been to, but this year you had to pass the plane tickets and sight-seeing due to your best friend, Junghan, asking begging you to help him out with a month-long film project. You didn’t have the heart to decline, so you told your parents you’d stay behind and help him out which resulted in you having to stay over at Junghan’s place for the rest of the summer.

You had to admit though, a small part of you felt disinclined to stay because the project sounded like it would’ve been a tedious workload, but working with your best friend was so much more fun than you’d imagined and even the project itself turned out to be enjoyable. So far, your summer break has been spent filming and hanging out with Junghan—though hanging out usually meant staying in his room and watching romcoms all day while crying over fictional characters, ranting about how you two would never meet such perfect men in real life. It was great.

Until the air conditioner broke down.

You glanced over at Junghan, who seemed to be just as spiritless as you were while he sat in front of a fan, eyes looking empty and distant.

“I told you the air conditioner needed to be fixed,” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling, completely missing the harsh glare he sent you.

“I said I was gonna get it fixed,” He replies and turns back to the fan, his voice quieting down a little, “But the number for repair wouldn’t answer.”

“Right,” You muttered absent-mindedly, eyes staring at the ceiling while your mind was too busy trying to come up with suggestions to beat the heat, “We could go to the pool?”

“Closed,” Junghan grunts, “The mall?”

“As if we’d both drive in this state,” You rolled your eyes as you tried to get your shirt to stop sticking to your skin. Junghan glances over at you when he hears you grumbling, one of the many cues that you were beginning to feel peevish. Deciding that it was pointless to keep tugging on your shirt, you opt to take it off instead.

“You don’t mind do you?” You asked before completely removing your shirt, only leaving you in your bralette. Though you knew he never did because of the countless times he’s helped you change and pick out different outfits, you always asked out of politeness. Additionally, his zero interest in women made you feel much safer and comfortable enough to undress around him.

“I really don’t care,” He says and stands up. You hear him rumbling for a moment while you were neatly folding your shirt, and seconds later you recognize the jingling sound of keys.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“The nearby grocery. You’re about to get grumpy and I am not going to listen to a rambling bitch for the rest of the day,” He says, rubbing his temples as he makes his way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna leave me here?” You asked, too exhausted to even glance at him. He probably wasn’t, you only asked for the dramatic effect.

“No, dumbass. I’m just gonna go and buy ice cream. See you in a bit.”

And with that Junghan leaves and closes the door shut. Only a few minutes later after the sound of the engine had gone did you decide to exert a little effort and move over to his previous spot to sit in front of the fan, the air immediately cooling your skin. You sighed in relief and grabbed a few tissues to wipe your temples dry before grabbing your phone and texting Junghan to buy some lemonade, followed by a second text telling him you’d pay him back once he returned.

You were surprised to hear, not even ten minutes later, that the car was already back and pulling up in the driveway. It couldn’t have been Junghan’s parents as they were out working, and it was only you and Junghan around—not like you two had many friends who would come and visit. Instead of rationalizing with yourself on how Junghan came back home in supersonic speed, you decide to drop it and wait for him to come up back to his room.

Someone knocks on the door, causing your brows to furrow in confusion. Since when did Junghan knock?

“Come... in?” You answer, though it came out more as a question. Your head turns at the sound of the door opening, and your eyes widen at seeing Junghan standing by the doorframe.

Looking oddly different.

“Dude,” You stood up from your place and stared him up and down, “Is that what you were really wearing when you went out?”

His eyebrows raise in shock and you catch his eyes taking a quick glimpse from your chest before quickly looking back at the perplexed look on your face, a small smirk forming on lips. You decide to ignore it.

“What a warm ‘welcome home’,” he chuckles.

“You didn’t answer me,” you replied, still oblivious to the difference in his tone.

He was wearing an all-black ensemble—a black cap, a black leather jacket, black pants that outlined his toned thighs (how have you never noticed?), and some chunky black boots—a huge contrast to his normally colorful and baggy clothing. You were genuinely curious because you hadn’t noticed what he looked like before he left the house as you were too tired and lazy to even look up and say goodbye.

“Uh, yeah. This is what I was wearing?” He narrows one of his eyes, looking confused, “Why?”

“I don’t know… since when did you wear all black?”

“Since way back then? I don’t know,” He replies, and you now noticed how his voice was unusually low. Junghan steps inside and averts his eyes from you, looking around in his room before scrimmaging through drawers as if in search for something.

“What are you looking for?” You asked, folding your arms and following him around.

“A charger,” He replies, and a chill runs down your spine at the sound of his voice. You thought maybe you’d detect how he was just trying to change his manner of speaking, but it was effortlessly low; like he wasn’t faking it or anything. It was weird because Junghan normally sounded a little more high pitched.

“What charger?”

“A laptop charger, mine broke,” He continues searching and not once does he meet your eyes.

“Oh okay, let me help you then,” You begin to look around and help him search, “Though I don’t know what it looks like, I’ll let you know if I see a charger.”

He looks up at you and smiles, but you don’t catch him watching you as you were already busy searching, “Thanks.”

The two of you continue searching in silence, though occasionally you’d look up and glance at Junghan. What exactly was he doing? Was this for his film? Is he supposed to be in character? This new look and manner of talking that he somehow adopted after a quick trip to the grocery store did things to you. Every time he grunted in annoyance after a failed search, something in your stomach would twist and you found yourself suddenly feeling drawn, or maybe even more than drawn, to your best friend. Your gay best friend.

You shook your head to get rid of those thoughts.

Only a few minutes later did you find something that looked like a charger hiding underneath a pile of unfolded clothes before presenting it to Junghan, “Is it this?”

“Yes! Exactly that,” He jumps up from crouching over one of the drawers at the bedside and walks over to you, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t know why you took such a long time searching for something in your room, though,” You rolled your eyes.

“My room?” He smiles, voice a little deeper but with a hint of amusement.

God, you could just jump on him right now.

“Yeah?” You knit your brows, “And stop doing that!”

“Stop doing what?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he was looking up at you. He leans back a bit a folds his arms, a smile still tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Maybe it was the summer heat doing things to your head and making you think about all these things that you never thought you’d ever want to do with your gay best friend, but he seemed so in character it was actually beginning to bother you. What store did he go to exactly? And where the hell is the ice cream?

“That! What’s up with your voice? And your outfit? You look so different, it’s weird,” You folded your arms as if to mirror him.

“Weird, huh?” He asks and looks at his clothing before looking back at you.

“Not in a bad way. It looks good, it’s just not you,” You squirmed slightly before shaking your head to snap out of it, “I don’t know what store you went to that made you look like this—and congrats I guess, if you’re trying to switch up your fashion, but you completely missed the ice cream, so good luck trying to handle this rambling bitch.”

He laughs at the words “rambling bitch” and oh god that is not what his laughter sounded like before. When did the sound of his laugh sound so deep and sultry? You subconsciously sucked on and bit your lip at the sound of his laughter, trying your best not to visibly drool in front of him. He catches your subtle action and his brow raises at the sight.

“Despite all the things you said, you think this looks good?” A playful smile rests on his face and your heart beats erratically at his expression.

“Y-yeah, I don’t know,” You mumbled. He shifts on the edge of the bed to move closer to you.

“And because there’s no ice cream, you’re going to turn into some rambling…” He reaches his hand out, the back of his fingers feeling the skin on your exposed waist before resting his hand on your back to pull you in closer.

“…person?” he continues, brows raised and eyes staring intently at yours, not using the vulgar word you had just used to describe yourself (or the word he had just called you before he left to go to the store).

“I...um, we’ll see,” you replied, and he only chuckles deeply. Your voice had transformed into a murmuring mess and it annoyed you, but you couldn’t really do anything about it, right now he reminded you so much of—

“I think you look good too, you know. Maybe I did miss you a lot more than I thought I did,” he whispers, pulling you in even more so you were now standing between his thighs.

Missed you? After an eight minute trip to the grocery store?

You didn’t question it. Your mind was blanking out, malfunctioning, even. Here was your best friend, your gay best friend (as you had to keep reminding yourself), placing his hands on your bare skin in a way that you knew wasn’t going to turn out to be so innocent. Right now you were extremely attracted and possibly even turned on by whatever the fuck he was doing, all you could do to save yourself was blame it on the heat. Was this absolutely weird? Hell yes. Did you want to stop him? Fuck no.

Were you now completely devoid of all reason and logic?

Definitely.

Softly, he tugs on your arm and pulls you into him so you were now sitting on his lap with your hand resting on his chest. One of his hands was still attached to your waist, the other was resting itself on the bed, gripping on a blanket.

Chills run down your spine for the second time now as his mouth moves closer to your ear, “Lucky for you I know the perfect way to handle rambling bitches.”

Your breath hitches for a moment and Junghan moves back to face you, his lips grazing your cheeks a little before you meet each other’s gaze. The summer heat was definitely nothing compared to this, but you didn’t mind. Your faces were only mere centimeters apart now and you could’ve sworn he was beginning to lean in by the look in his eyes, which were now fixated on your lips.

Seriously, you could just grab him by the collar right now and speed things up. He’s the one who pulled you in first, anyway, you just wanted to get things going. Though you haven’t exactly a clue as to where this would end, you wished he would hurry up a little to find out.

But for some strange reason, your senses were enveloped with the distinct smell of a signature fragrance that you knew did not belong to Junghan and it snapped you out of your thoughts. The scent was strong enough to flash some memories back in your mind, making you frown. Did he use this perfume on purpose? Or was your mind just playing tricks on you? In a flash, you could suddenly think straight and you couldn’t help it, the moral side of your brain had turned far stronger than your currently raging hormones (thank goodness). Something was definitely off.

“But, Junghan… aren’t you… gay?” You asked, your voice trailing off a little.

His eyes widen and he pulls back from you. He stares at you for a few seconds before it hits him, and he starts erupting in laughter. You narrowed your eyes at him and got off his lap, moving over to the side and sitting beside him instead.

“Junghan?” He stresses on the name. You’re staring at him blankly now, like you knew he was just messing with you. His laughter eventually dies down and he places a hand on your thigh, though it seemed much more innocent now, “I’m so sorry, ____, you’ve got the wrong person.”

With one hand, he quickly grabs the blanket off the bed. The back of his other free hand endearingly caresses your jaw, and you notice how he lingers for a while as he moves a bit lower down to your neck—before wrapping the fabric around you and covering your whole torso with it. Your face immediately turns pink as you clutched onto the blanket to further cover yourself, feeling slightly humiliated, though you were still confused.

“Wrong person? What do you mean?”

“I was wondering why you had no shirt on, I thought that was just a regular thing for you now. But it’s probably cause you’re more comfortable around my brother, huh?”

“Your brother…?”

“Has it really been that long?” He chuckles, and instantly your mind began connecting the pieces together. Could it actually be him? You haven’t seen him in years, and no one even bothered telling you he was coming back today. No way, surely this was Junghan playing a joke on you.

“I’m not Junghan. I’m his twin brother, Jungkook. Remember?”

You hastily stood up in defense, still clutching the blanket close to your chest, “Shut the fuck up, Junghan. No one said anything about Jungkook coming back today!”

Junghan Jungkook only laughs and stands up, the melodious sound filling the room, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the wide open bedroom door.

“What a shame, but it was a surprise. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home today,” He folds his arms, “And if I am Junghan, then who is that?” He points at the doorframe and true enough, Junghan was standing there holding grocery bags in his arms wearing his usual oversized colorful jacket and khaki colored pants.

You and Junghan both looked at each other with mouths dropped down to the floor before you looked back at Jungkook, who had the same smirk tugged on his lips, clearly amused at the whole situation.

Jungkook bends forward and leans in to your face, his voice in a lower tone but still audible enough for his brother to hear, “Probably shouldn’t take your top off so leisurely around the house anymore, huh?” He grins and winks at you, causing you wince and force an awkward smile, internally cursing yourself at everything that just happened.

“Anyways, I should probably rest up in my room. See you around,” Jungkook flashes you a smile before placing a chaste kiss on your (now dry, because your body had frozen up) forehead before walking away from you, taking the charger and dangling it in his other hand. He taps his confused looking brother on the shoulder before turning his head back to take one last look at you before walking out, leaving you and Junghan staring at each other in shock.

Junghan walks in slowly and sets the bags of grocery on the floor, shutting the door behind him.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asks you, eyes wide in anticipation.

Your mind replays everything that had happened between you two. Was Jungkook really just about to kiss you minutes before? Heart racing, you clutch on your chest from underneath the blanket he had covered you with. No way was Jungkook back. No way is he back and looking even more attractive than he did the last time you saw him. Not when you had just gotten over your small crush on him a couple of years ago.

The heat returns to your body, but it mainly pools on your cheeks. You look back at your best friend, but no words of explanation come up.

“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing.”

404 notes · View notes

alrightberries · 4 years

Text

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

If you want to be added to the tag list, click this link!

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagine #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin imagine #snk imagine #writing

877 notes · View notes

lebrookestore · 3 years

Text

epiphany — ◌ l.tn

pairing: ten lee x (gn) reader themes: doctor! ten, surgeon! ten, angst, in ten’s pov, mentions of war, nurse! reader, food and water, inaccuracies because i wrote this really quickly on a whim after listening to epiphany, medical camps (?) warnings: mentions of death, blood, mentions of needles, food, heavy but subtle angst wc:1.6k summary: there were somethings med school did not teach ten. he had so slowly learn these things all by himself- except he didn’t have to do it alone. authors note: every time i listen to this song, i get very emotional even though i don’t quite get it? and today i was listening to it and the urge to write something short was really strong so here! this fic focuses more on emotional trauma and pain and is a little heavier than what i usually write, but i hope you enjoy it!

The little boy waiting outside reminded Ten of himself.

Just before he had disappeared into the tent, he had caught sight of the child, sitting on the ground playing with a stethoscope one of the nurses had given him to keep him occupied. His clothes were dirty, and he had come hand in hand with his father before the latter collapsed in front of his eyes.

The scream he let out was high-pitched and full of fright, he didn’t understand what had happened. He didn’t understand why his father had fallen to his knees out cold, he didn’t know about the gunshot wound, and he didn’t understand the chaos around him. He didn’t know that his father had taken him to the camp so he wouldn’t get caught, to keep his son close by.

God knows what had happened to the mother, perhaps she had passed away. Ten had met many like that, motherless, fatherless, sometimes orphans. Bright-eyed children who had no place being in the cruel world they had been unjustly brought into.

He had been one of them, years ago of course. As he grew, he learned the truth and thought about how he could change it all if he tried hard enough. His mother always told him he could do anything if he wanted it if he willed it to happen. Perhaps it was foolish, to think he could save the chaos and cruelty that reined the ground he walked upon.

Maybe the next generation.

He pulled the mask over his face, turning to look at the man lying in his bed. It was something he could never quite understand, the way the strongest of men, the ones defending them could look so small and helpless in the beds. This was obviously someone of higher rank, someone who had devoted his life to helping just like Ten had, just in a different manner.

How many times had he been in this situation? He should have been used to it, the blood, the look in their eyes. He felt like a child again, holding a butter knife. He couldn’t screw up because fuck, this was somebody’s life.

The IV had already been attacked by one of the nurses, one who had given him a hug before she left to help another doctor. One whose eyes shined brightly even in the dim lighting on the camp, even when the electricity was weak. One who had always believed that he could change the world.

“Doctor, we need to start before he loses any more blood,” someone called distantly, and he snapped out of it, nodding. The light was bad, the wind was strong. He could hear a faint gunshot, and Ten wanted to scream, but he couldn’t because he knew that person- if he had been shot- would land up right where he was.

The hours were like a blur.

He staggered out of the tent and saw the little boy sitting there, still playing. He swallowed the lump in his throat and broke into a run, away from the camp. He missed the way people carried out the man’s body, the way the little boy innocently tried following and asking questions.

His fault, it was his fault. His mind screamed at him, telling him he should have tried harder. Someone lost a father, the father lost the son and the doctor lost his patient. He saw a few dragging another injured person in, and he shut his eyes, leaning against the pole in the center of whatever tent he had walked into.

Blood on his coat, blood on his hands. This hadn’t happened before, he had never lost a patient. He had never had to see the lifeless look in someone’s eyes, and the machine screech at him, indicating a flatline. He had never witnessed someone’s final breath, their last moments.

“Ten?”

Your voice timidly rang out amongst the storm of his thoughts, and he looked up, tearing off his coat. It was suddenly too hot, he couldn’t see properly, he wanted to scream. How had he let this happen? How had he, who had graduated at the top of his class in med school, manage to fail? He was the reason that boy would never see his father again after the funeral if he was lucky enough to have a funeral.

You stumbled over, taking his face in your hands. He looked so lost, confused and angry at the world. Ten was angry because he should have been competent enough to save the man. Swallowing thickly, you forced him to look at you, muttering his name under your breath.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. You had seen him wander here, and had connected the dots the moments you saw the body being taken away. You ran your hand through his hair, trying to calm him down, “You did the best you could.”

“The child,” he cried out, sounding so distraught your heart broke. “It’s my fault, because of me he doesn’t-” He couldn’t continue, eyes tearing up. He inhaled sharply, fingers fisting the material of the uniform shirt you were wearing. A sob escaped his lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

He felt responsible, and even though he didn’t know the man at all. There were so many people that walked in and out of the camp with wounds from the war, and that was the extent of his knowledge. Ten never learned their names, or what they had done. All his job was to get them back to their original state as best as possible. All he knew was what was wrong with them, and his job was to help it.

Death was inevitable, especially where he was working. He was supposed to expect it, not everyone survived but he still couldn’t comprehend the fact that it had happened on his watch.

“It’s not you,” you said, arms around him as you held him, shifting your weight from foot to foot to rock him comfortingly. He felt like a child again, a child who had fallen and hurt himself, in desperate need of comfort. “He had lost too much blood, you tried everything you could.”

He knew you were right, the internal bleeding had made the person’s body weak beyond repair. He knew this and had yet hoped to somehow save him, he had hoped for a miracle. It was ironic, miracles went against science, which was something he had studied.

Weren’t doctors supposed to be strong? He was used to exiting the surgery with a tired but triumphant look on his face. He was used to your smile greeting him, cheering him on.

And yet, he felt so, so weak. His legs were going to give out if it weren’t for you holding onto him. Why was he crying? He didn’t know the man, he shouldn’t be in pain. It weighed down on him, the consequences of this person passing. His thoughts kept wandering back to the child who had been waiting for his father.

“I could’ve tried harder,” he whimpered out. Guilt flooded his system, it was like his mind was playing the blame game and he was the only contestant. He clutched onto you and you didn’t move, understanding he needed you. You tried your best to convince him he had done whatever he could, kissing his hair comfortingly.

How did the others deal with it, he had seen so many deaths, and the doctors somehow managed to move on because they had other patients. Were they used to it? He couldn’t fathom even looking someone else in the eye and promising to save them, because he had just failed at it, and fuck, what if he failed again?

How did they learn to cope? Where had they learned to do so? He had attended medical school, he knew how many bones were in the human body. He knew how to identify an ailment almost on sight and could figure out the procedure that followed at the drop of his hat.

But Ten Lee didn’t know how to cope with loss. The loss of a patient hit him hard, it felt like he as responsible and he didn’t understand the pain that raged through him. Pain that tied him down, making him weary. School didn’t teach him how to do this.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, “I’m here.”

Solace was something he could only find in your arms. In twenty minutes- more or less- he’d have to get back out there. He didn’t have much time to make sense of his emotions, just those few minutes with you as you tried to bring back the Ten you knew. Would you see a smile on his face again? That seemed so long ago, the recent events seemed like centuries.

Epiphany, a realization that this pain would maybe last for as long as he continued to help the world. He would learn how to manage it if he wanted to move on, with your gloved hand in his. He could fall back into you when he needed to, but now he had to get back on his feet. He had to get back out there, even if he didn’t understand how to figure this pain out.

He couldn’t speak about it, because of some things you just couldn’t speak about. Ten couldn’t put it into words, but that was okay.

One day it would be okay when the war was over. When relief would carry through when he could put his scalpel down. When the rifles would be thrown away, and he wouldn’t see people carried out.

Until then, glimpses of relief would carry him through the grief that haunted him with every move.

It would be okay.

97 notes · View notes

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 26.4k

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, thank you!

My pleasure.

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

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

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

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

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It happens Thursday on two occasions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to regret that.

Pinky promise?

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What...What are these?”

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

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

Then it all clicks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just...it’s like…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it fucking worked.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, I can’t hold—”

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

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

“Do I make myself clear?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?”

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

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

“Mm-mm. What?”

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

He feels her heartbeat trip.

“And you know what I do to brats?”

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

“I fuck them until they break.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

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

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

“I...I want you to spank me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yours.”

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

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

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

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

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

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

“You drool in your sleep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truly. His dad was hotter.”

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

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

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

“Couldn’t be me, either.”

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

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

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

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s definitely something.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How chivalrous.”

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

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

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

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

“You’re a dick, you really are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever.”

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

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

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

“Wow. I feel used.”

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

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

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

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

“We could UberEats some iHop.”

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re so dumb.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, like you’re any better?”

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uber for Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh...my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The irony of it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like Hamilton?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You are vile.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry, I’m serious—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2K notes · View notes

atlafan · 4 years

Text

Sweet Tooth - One Shot

a/n: dentistrry is here!! I only researched a couple of things, so if you’re in the dentistry/medical field please don’t come for me if things are inaccurate, it’s just a fic, you know? This ia really cute, sweet, datey fic, so I hope you enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful! (not proofread) Consider buying me a coffee if you’re able!

Warnings: fluff and smut (the word molested is used, nothing bad happens or has happened to the main characters, it’s just mentioned during a conversation)

Pairing: Harry x OC

Words: 18K

“Dad, I can go by myself.” Abby groans to her father.

“I have to make sure everything gets billed correctly. Your dentist said only two are impacted, so only half is covered my medical and the other half is covered by dental.”

She huffs out a sigh, but nods her head as they enter Tufts Medical Center. Abby was finally getting a consult for her wisdom teeth. Perhaps at the age of twenty she felt a little late to the game for this, but her mouth had only started to hurt a little this past year. She was a little nervous about being knocked out for surgery, but she also just wanted her mouth to feel better. It was the summer before her junior year of college, so now was the perfect time to get it done. Abby and her dad make their way through the building, and get to the floor they need to be on.

“Abigail Simmons.” Her dad says to the receptionist and she nods.

“Someone will be out for her shortly. Did you have her most recent x-rays sent to us?”

“Yes.” Her dad says, and they both go to take a seat.

Abby’s leg was bouncing and she was chewing on her bottom lip. It was just a consult, there was really nothing to be worried about.

“Abigail?” Her eyes widen as she looks over at the person who just said her name. He had a toothy smile and was wearing a set of blue scrubs. She and her father both stand up. “Hi, I’m Harry, you can follow me.” He smiles to the two of them as he leads them to the consult rooms. He gets Abby situated in the dental chair. “Just so you both know, I am a student, but a competent one, which is why one of the other nurses isn’t here, but one of them will come by shortly, and so will the doctor.” He sits down on the stool and wheels over to Abby as he puts his gloves on. “Heard your mouth’s been sore, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

“She called me at school in tears.” Her dad says and she glares at him.

“College student?” Harry raises an eyebrow and looks back at the computer to review her x-rays. “How old are you?”

“Twenty.” Abby says.

“Your teeth are, like, really straight. Did you have braces?”

“When she was in middle school. She stills wears her retainer.”

Harry and Abby both look at her father and blink. He was really starting to piss her off. She could answer for herself.

“Well, you’ve got a very good girl here, don’t you, Mr. Simmons? Listen, uh, this is going to take a few minutes. I need to look at all of her teeth and confirm the ones that are impacted and if the other two have room or not. There’s another waiting area right over there. I’ll call you back over once the doctor’s here. Would that be alright?”

“It’s just…Abby’s really nervous-“

“Dad, please, I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Her dad sighs. “I’ll be right over there.”

“Bit of a helicopter you have there.” Harry smirks at her.

“Thank you for getting rid of him. I bring myself to the doctor all the time, but for whatever reason he was adamant about coming to this.”

“It’s major surgery I don’t blame him.” Harry grabs a bib to put around Abby. “So, you go by Abby?”

“Mhm.” She blushes as he clips the bib in place and adjusts her hair.

“Is it true, are you nervous?”

“A little…mostly about the surgery, not so much about the rest. I’m not one of those people that’s afraid of the dentist.”

“No worries, love, you’ll be in good hands with us.” He smiles. “I’m gonna put the chair back now, alright?”

“Okay.”

The chair slowly goes back, and he situates a pair of sunglasses onto her before fixing the light over her eyes.

“Could you open up for me as much as you can? I’ll try to be as gentle as possible since I know you’re experiencing a lot of discomfort.”

She nods and opens up wide. She feels his pinkies enter her mouth and feel around her gums. She winces a few times when he brushes up against the back of her mouth. She hears him whisper sorry a few times. Abby tries to focus on anything else. She focuses on how green his eyes are, and how seemingly perfect his skin is. Her mind wanders to how people get skin like that. What’s his routine? How could she get skin as smooth? Does he see a dermatologist regularly?

“Okay, Abby, I’m gonna out the chair back upright, and go grab your dad and the doctor. Hope that didn’t hurt too much.”

“It was fine, thank you.”

Abby’s dad, two nurses, Harry, and the doctor all come over to her to discuss her teeth. She definitely needed all four removed. They settle on a date for her to come back and have the procedure done, and Harry gives her the rundown on how to prep for the surgery.

“We’ll see you in a couple of weeks, Abby.” Harry smiles.

“You’ll be here?”

“You bet.”

Even though she was nervous as fuck to go under, she was almost excited to see the handsome dental student again. At least it was something to look forward to.

Abby had an early morning surgery, and she had to stop eating the night before. So she was exhausted and starving, not to mention she was a ball of nerves. Her dad drove her in for the appointment, and assured her he’d be there afterwards.

“Abby?” Harry comes out all scrubbed up and ready to go. She stands up and waves back to her dad before going with him. He brings her over to a consult chair and types on the computer. “Alright, whatcha have for breakfast?”

“N-nothing, I haven’t eaten since dinner last night.”

“Good girl.” He says without looking at her. “And what about a midnight snack?”

“Harry, I haven’t eaten since dinner last night.”

“You remembered my name?” He asks as he turns to her, and she blushes.

“Sort of hard to forget the British guy that told my dad to go sit somewhere else.” She smirks, and it makes him laugh. “Will you be in the operating room?”

“Yup, I’ll be there the whole time. I’m the hand holder.”

“The hand holder?”

“Mhm, while they’re helping you get to sleep I’ll be holding your hand, making sure you’re alright. I also get to put the IV in your arm.”

“Lucky you.” She deadpans and it makes him laugh again.

“What are you in school for?”

“Psychology. I’d like to be the type of doctor that doesn’t have to deal with all this.” She gestures around the room.

“Helping people on a whole other level, I see.” He nods.

The doctor comes over, and she must have gotten asked about four more times if she had eaten breakfast. She gets settled in the chair in the new room where she’d be operated on. She watches as Harry gets the IV in her arm, and then he holds her hand, just like he said he was. He was wearing a mask now, but she could tell he was smiling.

“Don’t worry, Abby, the next time you wake up these nasty teeth will be gone.”

She nods at him and squeezes his hand as they get the oxygen hooked up to her nose. His thumb rubs the back of her hand as a nurse puts the mask over her mouth, and her eyes slowly start to droop. The last image she has is Harry’s hand in hers.

When Abby wakes up, her eyes immediately well up with tears as she looks around the room. She sees her dad sitting in a chair reading a magazine, and she sees the IV still hooked up to her arm. She makes a whining noise and her dad looks over at her.

“Hey, you’re awake.” He smiles. “Everything went really well, honey. You did great.”

After about ten minutes a nurse comes in and takes the IV out. In her daze she tried looking for Harry, but she couldn’t find him. She was so delirious she could barely walk, and her dad had to help her to the car. She just wanted to say thank you to Harry for holding her hand, but she never got the chance.

Several years later, Abby had finished her master’s degree in counseling, and just finished up her licensure program. She already had a few different job opportunities lined up. The one she wanted most was at a local university at a counseling center. Being a student in today’s age was tough, and Abby wanted to be someone they could open up to. She had done extremely well in her postgraduate internship, so she had impeccable recommendations. She just needed to narrow things down to what school she wanted to work for, and that ultimately came down to benefits. She ended up going with UMASS Boston. It was a school a lot of her friends attended, so she sort of knew the campus, it was easy enough to get to by train, and the benefits were great.

After getting the first semester under her belt, Abby was feeling confident in what she was doing. She was truly helping students. She’d even be able to go for her PhD for free after she had six months under her belt. With winter break underway, Abby was getting caught up on some self-care, which meant going in for her annual cleaning.

“Hello, this is MidCity General Denstistry, may I please speak with Abigail Simmons?”

“This is she.”

“Hi, Abigail, this is a call to remind you of your appointment this week.”

“Right, Wednesday at 3PM?”

“Correct, and I have to inform you that your usual dentist, Dr. Morgan, has recently retired.”

“Oh…I mean good for her, I just liked her a lot.” Abby chuckles.

“Don’t worry, our new doctor, Dr. Styles, is amazing and everyone’s really like him so far. He’s taking over all of Dr. Morgan’s patients.”

“Okay, that should be fine. See you Wednesday!” Abby hangs up the phone and puts an extra reminder on her phone so she wouldn’t forget.

On Wednesday, she checked in and was brought into the back by a nurse, Marie. She was the dental assistant that would be doing her cleaning, nothing out of the ordinary. Although, Abby was starting to get aggravated because Marie kept sticking the pick into the same tooth in the back of her mouth. She hears Marie sigh.

“Abby, it seems like you may have a cavity. Dr. Styles will be able to confirm it. Let me polish you up, and then I’ll go get him.”

Before Abby has a chance to respond, Marie was already polishing her teeth. She was left to lay back in the chair while Marie went to get Dr. Styles.

“Hello, Miss Simmons.” Abby’s eyes widen when she hears his voice. He sits on a stool and wheels over next to her. “I’m Dr. Styles, nice to meet you.” He extends his hand to her and she takes it. “Mind if I take a quick peak at everything else before I inspect this possible cavity?”

“N-no, go ahead.”

“Thank you, open wide for me.”

She does so, and he sticks his gloved fingers into her mouth, feeling around her gums, and making sure everything’s alright. Next he grabs the tools and does a quick inspection of her overall mouth before poking at the tooth that Marie said was the problem. Abby notices how he hum along to the music playing on the radio. It was almost soothing.

“Okay, I’m gonna hit the button so you can sit up.” He says to her. Marie moves the light, and Abby takes the sunglasses she was given off. Her eyes widen again when she gets a good look at him.

Abby had come into contact with a lot of people in her life since the time she was twenty. It would be odd to remember someone that helped with her oral surgery, but too much was adding up. A man with a British accent, the same green eyes, and he was in the dental profession. She was finally going to get a chance to thank him.

“You have a cavity.” He sighs.

“I’ve never had one in my life.” She shakes her head.

“Happens to the best of us.” Dr. Styles chuckles. “Are you eating a lot of sweets?”

“Um, well, I’m a counselor at UMASS Boston, and I tend to suck on jolly ranchers when I’m meeting with students. Helps remind me to just sit and listen and not interrupt.”

“Ah, that’s a pretty good trick. Maybe try sugar free gum?”

“No, gum gives me a headache.” She shakes her head. “I prefer to suck than to chew.”

“Right.” He swallows. “Maybe try sucking on some mints then?”

“Sure, I can try that.” She smiles at him.

“Good girl.” He smiles back at her. That just sealed the deal it was definitely him. “Marie here will help you set up an appointment so I can take care of this for you.”

“You’ll be doing the procedure?”

“Mhm, you’re stuck with me now…unless you want to switch to another doctor, which I hope you don’t. Hope you’re not missing Dr. Morgan too much.”

“Not as much as I thought, that’s for sure. Um…this may be a weird question, but did you happen to be a student at Tufts Medical Center?”

“I was! It’s where I went after I got my bachelor’s. I can perform oral surgery, but I much prefer doing stuff like this. Can fill a cavity in my sleep. How did you know I went there?”

“I…this is going to sound so weird, but, like, six years ago you…held my hand when I got my wisdom teeth out.” Harry’s eyes widen at that. “Normally I wouldn’t remember someone so well, but…it’s not every day I have a British doctor.”

“Oh, wow, you remember me doing that?”

“Yeah, and we left before I ever got a chance to say thank you for keeping me so calm. So…thanks.” She blushes.

“I wish…I wish I remembered that. They often had me as the hand holder. How nice for our paths to cross again, huh? Promise to be just as good a dentist as I was at holding your hand.”

“That’s all I could hope for.” She smirks, and it makes him chuckle. “Right, well, Marie, please help Miss Simmons set up her appointment with me so we can get this cavity filled.”

“Sure thing, Dr. Styles.” Marie says as she makes a few clicks on the computer.

Just like that he was gone. He had grown into quite the handsome man since she last saw him. Not that he wasn’t before, but he looked more adult now. She wondered how much older he was than her. More importantly, she wondered if he was single.

It was about a week later when Abby came in to have her cavity taken care of. Marie was the dental assistant again which brought Abby some comfort. Marie gets her prepped in the chair as they wait for Harry to come into the private room.

“Alright, good morning, Miss Simmons.” He says brightly.

“You can just call me Abby if you want…” She says shyly.

“Okay, Abby, it is. Let’s fill this cavity, yeah?” He sits on the stool and wheels over to her. “Gotta give you a spot of nova cane, but before I do that we have to numb the area a bit, so this little thing that looks like a lollypop is gonna go in.” Abby nods. “Open up for me.” She does so. “Good girl, thank you.” He places the numbing stick inside her mouth and she scrunches her face. “I know, it doesn’t taste very good, sorry.” He stands back up. “I’ll be back in about five minutes.”

True to his word, Harry comes back five minutes later, and takes the numbing stick out of Abby’s mouth. Next he has her open up so he can administer the nova cane. He tells her she might feel a slight pinch, and she accidentally grabs onto his thigh.

“S-sorry.” Abby says as she takes her hand off him. “I may not be afraid of the dentist, but I really don’t like needles.”

Harry and Marie share a glance, and then Harry looks at Abby.

“Marie, would you mind handling the nova cane so I can hold Abby’s hand?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Styles.”

Harry hands the needle to Marie, and then Harry grabs onto Abby’s hand. He smiles softly at her, and she’s able to focus on him and not the needle going into her gums. Marie says it’s all set, so Harry gets back into position with the drill.

“If it hurts, just let me know and we can numb you a bit more.” Harry says to her. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Abby pinches her eyes closed the second the drill comes into contact with her tooth. Thank god Harry was wearing a mask because he couldn’t help but smile at how cute she looked. Luckily, Abby didn’t suffer too much. The procedure didn’t take too long, and she was sitting upright before she knew it.

“You did great.” Harry smiles at her. “So, that side of your mouth will be numb for a bit. Give it a few hours before you eat anything, avoid hot foods.” Abby just nods her head along, too embarrassed to speak because she knew she would sound stupid. “Have you made your appointment for your next cleaning?” She nods again. “Great, Marie, I’m just gonna go over another few things with Abby, feel free to go on your break.”

“Oh, alright. See you in six months, Abby.” Marie smiles, and leaves the room as Abby waves to her.

“I actually already went over everything with you. I…uh…just wanted her to step out.” Abby’s eyes widen at that. “I was actually wondering, um, if you’d like to go out for coffee sometime…you know, when you can have hot liquids again.” He blushes and so does she. She nods yes at him quickly. “You do? Great, um, can I have your number then?” Abby frantically reaches for the phone in her pocket, unlocks it, and then hands it to Harry so he can add his contact. “I’ll call you in a couple of days so we can set something up, yeah?”

She smiles and nods as she takes her phone back. Her heart was fluttering. She felt like she was in a dream or something. Coffee couldn’t come soon enough.

Harry called Abby a couple of days later, just like he said he would, and they agreed upon what coffee shop they should meet up at on Saturday. Her mouth was feeling much better, and she was really excited to see him. She was still in shock that he asked her out in the first place. She thought she’d have to wait another six months to see him again.

He got to the coffee shop first, and decided to wait outside for her. He smiles when he sees her and they step inside.

“It’s on me.” He says. “Get whatever you like.”

“Oh! That’s so nice of you.” Abby blushes. “Thanks.” They each order and grab a table to sit at. It was too cold outside to go for a walk.

“I just want to preface by saying I’ve never asked out a patient before.” Harry says to her.

“So…why ask me out then?”

“I just found it really endearing that you remembered me, and all you wanted to do was say thank you to me for doing something so simple.”

“Harry, I had just turned twenty, I was practically still a kid. I had never gone under or had a surgery before, I was petrified. My dad was just as nervous, you were the only thing that calmed me down.”

“So, that would make you roughly twenty-six now?”

“Yes it would.” She smiles as she takes a sip of her coffee. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be thirty-two next month.” It was an age difference both of them might have been against those years ago, but not now. They were both well into adulthood, had their careers, and had some life experience under their belts. “It’s killing me that I don’t remember you.”

“It’s really okay. You’ve probably seen so many patients. I’m sure years down the line I won’t remember every student I’ve met with.”

“Right, you said you’re a counselor at…?”

“UMASS Boston.”

“And how do you like doing that?”

“I love it, honestly. I feel so bad for these kids, they have so much on their plates, under all this pressure. It’s really brave of them to come ask for help, so I like giving them a safe space. Some meetings are more serious than others, so it’s never boring. I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

“That’s amazing. Feel like I do better talking to people in small spurts, that’s what’s so great about being a dentist. People can’t strike up small talk when you’ve got your fingers in their mouth.” He laughs and so does Abby.

“How long have you been at MidCity for?”

“Like…six months, I think. I like it a lot, everyone’s really nice. Marie’s my favorite assistant, though, sometimes her kids come in and they’re really cute, and her wife bakes the best brownies.”

“She’s usually the one to do my cleanings, I like her a lot too.”

“Can I ask why you chose jolly ranchers to suck on? I mean, how many students are you meeting with? You must go through a ton.”

“I do.” She blushes in embarrassment. “I got them when they were on sale after Halloween…I’m definitely going to try the mints like you said.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He smiles as he takes a bite of his bagel.

“So, how does a doctor such as yourself not already have a girlfriend?”

“Getting right to it, huh?” He smirks and she nods. “Medical school takes up a lot of time, and then when I first started as an intern, I was constantly overworked. I was doing surgeries left and right, I was too exhausted to try and make anything serious work. Then I decided I’d rather be working at a practice. I still do a lot of teeth pulling, but not as much as I was. And now that things have slowed down a bit, I just haven’t met someone I’ve wanted to be serious with.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

“Same thing, sort of.” She giggles. “Grad school was a lot, and then interning was a lot. Now I’m just really settling into my job. I survived the first semester, now I feel like a pro.”

“That’s a good feeling to have. Is your commute long?”

“Not really, I just take the green line to the red and I’m there. Obviously the trains can be unpredictable, but it beats having to pay for a car and car insurance. What about you? Are you in the city, or out in the suburbs.”

“Oh, I’m in the city. I drive to work, though, I’ve got my own parking spot at the back of the building.”

“Well, we can’t all be so special.” She smirks.

“No, I suppose not.” He smirks back at her. “How’s your tooth feel, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s fine, thanks. You’re really good at your job. It was nice of you to hold my hand when Marie did the nova cane.”

“I felt so bad that you were scared.” He reaches across the table and places his hand over hers. “When you grabbed onto me I knew I had to do something.”

“God that was embarrassing. I would have felt so violated if someone did that to me.”

“It’s not like you grabbed my dick, Abby, it’s alright.” He gives her hand a squeeze.

“Right.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “So, do you work a standard Monday through Friday at MidCity, or how does all of that work?”

“Yup, pretty much.” He takes his hand away from hers. “I mean obviously if there’s an emergency we have to cancel appointments, but for the most part we leave spots open for surgeries so people are able to book those easy enough. I usually pop by the cleanings in between cavity fillings and other stuff.”

“What made you want to become a dentist?”

“Well, I knew I wanted to work in the medical field, but selfishly I didn’t want the long hours at hospitals. I don’t have to be on call, like, I don’t have to worry about emergencies in the middle of the night. Not often, anyways.”

“I feel like I would get grossed out looking at teeth all day.” Abby chuckles.

“It’s not as bad as you think. I try to separate the teeth from the person. Like, I was able to give all new teeth to this recovering meth addict. She had this incredible story, and I knew I had to help. She had been sober for five years, but no one would hire her because of her teeth. Now she’s working a corporate job doing great.”

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing.”

“You must have some great stories with your students.”

“Yeah, I’ve really bonded with a few of them. Sometimes they just need someone on their side, you know? A lot of them are first in their family to go to school, so they’re doing a lot on their own.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, it’s good they have a nice person like you to help them.” Harry smiles warmly at her and she smiles back. “Would you, um, would you be interested in going out for dinner some time?”

“I…yeah, I’d love to.” She blinks a couple of times. “I’m free most nights right now because we’re on winter break.”

“You don’t have to go into your office at all?”

“I just answer emails from home.” Abby shrugs.

“Sweet deal.” Harry grins. “So, how would Thursday night work for you?”

“Thursday works great.” She smiles.

They both throw out all of their trash and step out of the coffee shop. They share a gentle hug, and go their separate ways. Harry said he’d call in a couple of days to let her know where he’d be taking her, and she was beyond excited.

Friday night, Harry picked Abby up in front of her building. When he saw her, he got out of the car to open the door for her and she giggled.

“That’s a nice coat.” He says to her.

“Thanks, I got it on sale at L.L. Bean back in August. Keeps me nice and warm.”

“Oh, I love shopping there! Once in a while I’ll take the drive up to New Hampshire to go to the actual store to get the really good stuff. The boots I got from there for the winter will last a life time.”

“Yeah, it’s just good quality stuff. I usually get a decent coupon in the mail or online.” She chews her bottom lip. Clearly Harry had a little more money than she did. “Where are we eating?”

“You’ll love it, it’s this nice Italian place at the North End. I remember you said Italian was something you liked when we spoke on the phone.”

Abby smiles at him and he looks at her briefly to smile back. He finds a place to park, somehow, and they walk towards the restaurants. She hadn’t been to the North End in a while since most of the places were expensive. Harry puts his hand on the small of her back as they walk in, and he tells the hostess he has a reservation. She leads them over to a table for two and he pulls out the chair for her.

“So, how’s your week been?” Abby asks him.

“Pretty good, fit this one person with a new tooth, did a couple of crowns. Same old, same old.” He shrugs. “How about you?”

“Good, I did some virtual sessions with some students who are having shitty winter breaks. I went into the office for a team retreat, and then I updated some spread sheets.” She chuckles.

“That’s nice of you to do virtual appointments.”

“It’s all part of the job.”

“Good evening, folks.” A waiter comes over with water and a basket of rolls. “I’m Parker, can I start you off with any drinks or appetizers?”

“Abby, would you care to get a bottle of white for the table?” Harry asks her.

“Oh, sure, that’s be great. Would Pinot Grigio be alright?”

“It’s perfect. A bottle of Piniot Grigio, please.” He looks down at the menu and furrows his brows at the appetizers. “Calamari?” He asks her and she nods. “Calamari, Parker.”

“Sounds great, I’ll be back in a moment with the wine and to take your dinner orders.”

“The calamari here is excellent, it’s lightly fried in peanut oil so it doesn’t feel heavy.”

“What do you recommend for an entrée?”

“Everything’s good. What are you in the mood for?”

Abby looks down at the menu and her eyebrows raise at the prices.

“Maybe just one of these pasta dishes.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t get the cheapest thing on the menu. Get whatever you like, it’s my treat.”

“Harry, this is gonna be really expensive.”

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I couldn’t afford it, please don’t worry about it.”

“O-okay, then…maybe the steak tips with the pan seared peppers.”

“If that’s what you want then you should have it.” Harry smiles. Parker comes over with the bottle of wine, and pours the first two glasses for them. “I’m really glad we could do this tonight.” He grins. “I…found something when I was going through some old things the other day.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow as she sips on her drink.

“It was killing me that I couldn’t remember you, but then it hit me.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a card. “I’ve never been so thankful to be a packrat in my life.” He opens it and smiles. “Dear Harry, I never got a chance to say thank you when you held my hand before my surgery. I figured I’d drop this off when I came in to have my stitches removed. I hope this finds its way to you. You’re going to be a great doctor someday. Sincerely, Abby Simmons.” He smiles at her as he places the card back in his back pocket.

“You…you kept that?”

“It wasn’t often I got cards like that, so I kept it, and once in a while when I needed a pick me up I’d read it. As soon as I re-read it the other day I completely remembered you. I even remembered telling your dad to go sit in the other waiting room.”

“Oh my god.” Abby chuckles. “That was the greatest thing I had ever seen. Think that solidified the crush I had on you.”

“Telling your dad to basically leave you alone?”

“Yeah.” She smirks. “Super hot to see you be so sure of yourself and confident. Plus, he was really pissing me off, talking over me and answering for me.”

“Wow, so I guess I’m the one that away, huh?” He smirks.

“You certainly were. Although, I hadn’t thought about you in quite some time. It’s crazy that you ended up becoming my dentist.”

“Very crazy.” Parker comes over with the calamari and tells the two he’s going to put their orders in now. Harry watches as she sticks her fork into a piece and takes a bite. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She smiles. “This is really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The rest of the date goes really well. Abby and Harry continued to joke around and flirt. It wasn’t until the check came that she felt a little uncomfortable.

“How much is it?” She asks him nervously.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He smirks and slides his card into the slot, letting Parker take it. “Would you like to walk around for a bit, maybe get some dessert by the water?”

“That sounds great, but only if I can pay for dessert.”

“Deal.” He smiles.

Harry holds Abby’s hand as they walk through the little park by the water. Even though it was cold out, it was still a beautiful night. They duck into a gelato place for a little dessert. They decide to split something, which ends up being insanely romantic when Harry lifts his spoon to her lips. She makes a show of it as she takes a bite, licking her lips after and everything. He holds her hand during the drive, and lets her pick the radio station. He gets out and walks her up to the door once they get to her building.

“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.” She says to him.

“Me too.” He steps closer to her. “Do you see a third date in our future?”

“Definitely.” She nods. “Do you like bowling?”

“Love bowling. Are you, um, free Saturday night?”

“I can be.” She smiles. “Pick me up around seven?”

“It’s a date.” He smiles. The two stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure if they should kiss or not, so instead Harry opens his arms for hug, and she wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses his cheek, and then he kisses hers. “I’ll see you Saturday, Abby.”

“See you Saturday, Harry.”

Harry was on cloud nine the next day at work. He couldn’t stop thinking about Abby, her smile, her laugh, the little beauty mark she has under right eye. He thought she was gorgeous, charming, and kind. Normally he’d never get involved with a patient, but he couldn’t help it with her. He thought it was so sweet that she remembered him after all this time, and he felt so relieved that he remembered her.

“You’ve had this dreamy look on your face all week, what’s with you?” Marie asks Harry while they’re eating lunch.

“I…sort of met someone, and we’ve been out a couple times…she’s great.”

“That’s great! Anyone I know?”

“Um…well, you know Abigail Simmons…”

“Of course I know Abby! Oh my god, is that why you asked me to step out of the room when you filled her cavity?!”

“I didn’t wanna ask her out in front of you.”

“Harry, since when do you date patients?” She whispers.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but it turns out I met her a long time ago. When I was a student at Tufts I assisted in removing her wisdom teeth.”

“Oh, wow, that’s incredible.” Marie blinks. “When are you seeing her again?”

“Tomorrow night. We’re going bowling, how fun is that?”

“Should be really fun.” Marie grins. “Look at you, putting yourself out there. Now Leigh and I can stop trying to set you up.”

“I’m excited about her. She’s got such a cool job too. I can’t wait to keep getting to know her.”

Since they were going bowling, they could easily just take the train, so Harry takes a cab to Abby’s building Saturday evening. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans and a sweater under his jacket. She comes down the stairs in her long coat, and a Patriots hat on top of her head.

“Hey.” He smiles at her, taking her in for a hug. “How are you?”

“Good.” She smiles up at him. “How are you?”

“Good, great, actually.” He takes her hand and they walk towards the nearest t-stop. They both swipe their Charlie Cards and hop onto the next train.

“I hope you’re okay with candle pins…I’m not good with the big balls.” Abby says to him as they hang onto the same pole of the crowded train.

“I love candle pinning.” He chuckles. “No worries.”

They get to the bowling alley, are given a lane, and get their shoes. Abby takes her hat off and fixes her hair, and then unzips her jacket. She had a pair of jeans on with a red turtleneck. Abby was a short, curvy thing, and Harry absolutely loved it. When Abby first met Harry back when she was twenty, she was a tiny size two, but now she was a comfortable size eight and was fully embracing it. She was healthy, and that was all that mattered.

“Do you want anything to drink? I could get us a pitcher of beer.” Harry says to her as they settle into their lane. “I could get us some pizza too.”

“That sounds great, thanks.” She smiles as she slips her shoes on.

“Be back in a tick.” Harry goes over to the snack bar and gets two slices of pizza and a pitcher of beer. “Here we are.” Harry fills two of the plastic cups up with the beer, and hands one to Abby. “Shall we?”

“Mhm, I already set up the score sheets.” She shows him the large sheet of paper. “Not that I care that much about the score…it’s just fun to keep track.”

Abby bowls first, knocking most of the pins down, and then gets the rest on her second throw. Harry couldn’t help but smile as he watched her to do a little jog and hop as she threw the ball down the lane. He goes up next and immediately gets a strike.

“Woohoo! Go, Harry!” Abby says as she takes a sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a strike before.”

“I could show you how if you want.”

“Isn’t it just luck?”

“Nope, it’s all physics.”

“And…you’re good with physics?”

“Had to take it during pre-med, I even tutored for it. Come on, I’ll show you.” Abby gets up and grabs one of the balls. Harry goes behind her, and puts his hand on one of her shoulders, moving her hair so he can speak closer to her ear. “Okay, so what you’re gonna want to do is walk a little closer to the line, swing the ball back, and let it fly.”

Abby turns slightly to look up at him. Her cheeks were flushed. She nods at him, and does exactly what he said to do, and she gets the strike.

“Oh my god!” She squeals and throws her arms around him. “I can’t believe that worked! You’re amazing!” She kisses his cheek.

“You did great! Nice to know you’re good at following directions.” He winks at her and grabs his next ball.

After three rounds of bowling, and two pitchers of beer, they both head out. They take the train back to the stop nearest to Abby’s apartment, and Harry walks her home.

“I had so much fun tonight, Harry.”

“Me too, I’m glad you suggested bowling.” They both stop in front of her steps. “Can I see you again next weekend?”

“I’d like that.”

“Maybe if it’s not too cold we could go ice skating at Frog Pond.”

“Oh, I’d love to do that! I have my own skates and everything.”

“Perfect.” He smiles and steps closer to her. She looks up at him with her big brown eyes. He didn’t think brown eyes as beautiful as hers existed. “Abby, can I kiss you?” He asks softly.

“Yes.” She nods and smiles up at him.

He cups her cheek and leans down to her. His lips press to hers, and he uses is other hand to cup her other cheek. It’s soft and gentle at first, it grows a little needier as she presses her body to his, but she stops him from walking up the stairs. She pulls away first and blushes.

“Um, well, goodnight.” She says to him.

“Yeah, goodnight.” He rubs the back of his neck. He was sorting of hoping she’d invite him up. It was the third date, after all. Maybe she was a fifth date kind of girl, which he had to respect. “I’ll call you at some point during the week. I’ve got a few different surgeries, though, so if you don’t hear from me a lot that’s why.”

“No worries.” She shrugs. “I’m getting ready for the students to return, and I have some meetings to go to, some seminars, so I’ll be busy myself. Wanna just plan for next Saturday?”

“Sounds good to me.” He leans again to kiss her again, and she happily kisses him back.

“Okay, goodnight for real.” She giggles and walks up her steps. She waves goodbye as she goes into her building and he sighs.

Abby sighs happily as she gets into her apartment and squeals. She immediately texts her best friend everything about her date with Harry. She was so excited about him, and couldn’t believe he was actually interested in her.

They texted here and there during the week. Abby got a little brave and sent him a mirror selfie of her dressed up for work, and he sent one back of himself in his scrubs ready to go in for surgery. Her jaw nearly dropped when she saw him. She had seen him in scrubs before, but it was ages ago. He filled them out so differently now. Plus, the thought of him being a doctor just did things to her insides that she couldn’t even describe. He thought she looked gorgeous in her pin striped slacks and blouse. He couldn’t but think about how lucky each student was that got to sit and talk with her.

Harry was exhausted by the end of the week. He must have extracted over a dozen teeth, filled a stupid amount of cavities, and put on ten different crowns. He couldn’t wait to see Abby Saturday. He asked her to go to the pond a little earlier in the evening so they could get dinner afterwards. The decided to just meet at the pond. She was easy enough to spot now that he knew what her long coat and Patriots hat looked like.

“Harry.” She smiles when she turns to see him. They hug and share a quick peck on the lips. “Did you catch up on some sleep?”

“I did.” He sighs as they find a bench to sit down on to put on their skates. “Been looking forward to seeing you all week. How’d your seminar go?”

“Oh, it was great! It ended up being more of a training, I have a new certification too.”

“That’s amazing, good for you. I’m constantly going to lectures and stuff to stay up to date. I’ve published a couple of things too to some medical journals.”

“That’s so cool! Once I’ve been at UMASS for six months I can start taking classes for free. I’m gonns go for my doctorate, so hopefully I can start publishing some work too.” They both stand up and make their way into the rink. Abby puts her hand out for Harry’s and he takes it as they start to glide on the ice.

“That’s great that they have a program like that for you.”

“I know! I was super happy when I saw that in the benefits package.”

They skate around the rink a few times, enjoying the music that was playing. Harry guides them over to the side for a little break. He presses her against it, his hands going onto the railing, caging her in. She looks up at him, and he leans in to kiss her. She tugs on his coat to pull him closer, and the kiss deepens slightly. Abby really liked kissing Harry. He always tasted like mint, probably because he was constantly chewing gum, and his lips were insanely soft. She starts smiling and so does he, and he presses his forehead to hers.

“Do you feel like going to eat now?” He says to her.

“Yeah.” She nods.

They end up going to a Mexican restaurant not too far from the pond. They each get margaritas and laugh a lot. Harry talks about what it’s like to extract teeth during a surgery, and Abby asks if people ever want to see their teeth afterwards. He asks Abby how she copes when she has to deal with a heavier situation at work, and she says her little Shih Tzu, Marvin, helps make her day a lot better.

“That’s nice your apartment allows pets.” He says to her.

“Yeah, he’s only, like, nine pounds, if that. He’s so cute, do you wanna see a picture?”

“Of course!” Abby pulls out her phone to show Harry a few pictures of Marvin, and even a selfie she took with him. “He’s so cute, and so are you.”

“Thanks.” She giggles.

“He looks like a little stuffed animal.”

“He really does.”

“Why a Shih Tzu?”

“They’re really smart. They’re tough to train because they’re so stubborn, but once they get a little older they start to listen, and they’re pretty self-sufficient alone during the day. Although, sometimes I sneak him into the office.”

“How old is he?”

“About two. Do you have any pets?”

“Nah, I’m not home enough to take care of anything else. But I love dogs, I think they’re great.”

“Well, maybe at some point you can meet little Marv.”

“I’d like that.”

They square up the tab and Harry walks Abby home once again. They kiss for a while outside her front door. He desperately wanted to feel her tongue on his, but she wouldn’t open her mouth up. His hands squeeze at her hips, and she tugs on his jacket like she had done earlier.

“Well, I better get up inside.” She says against his lips and he hums his response as he continues to kiss her. She giggles into him. “Harry.” She smiles and steps back from him.

“Sorry, I just really like kissing you.”

“I like kissing you too.”

“When can I see you again?”

She takes her phone out to check her calendar.

“Are you free on Friday?” She asks as she furrows her brows at her screen.

“I think so. We could go to dinner, if you like. There’s this really great Chinese place in China Town that I love going to if you’re interested.”

“That sounds great, Harry.” She smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Maybe…um, maybe we could meet up for lunch, or something at some point during the week.”

“Do you have time for something like that?”

“I’m sure I do. I can look at my calendar and let you know which day works best.”

“Okay.” She nods. “I’d love to meet up for lunch.”

“Great.” He leans in to kiss her again. “Hope you and Marvin have a good night.”

“Oh, we will. He’s probably antsy for me to get up there and give him all the cuddles I can. Text me when you know which day works for lunch.” She smiles and heads inside.

Harry couldn’t believe a little dog was going to be getting all of her cuddles tonight and not him. She was slowly killing him. He respected that she might want to take things slow, but to still not invite him up? He sighs and orders an uber back to his condo, hoping he’ll be able to fall asleep easily, and not stay up thinking about the girl who was slowly creeping her way into his heart.

Abby was able to meet up with Harry on Tuesday, but only for a quick walk, which she thought would be a great opportunity for Harry to meet Marvin. She gets his sweater and harness on, leashes him up, and out the door she goes. Harry was standing outside her building, in his scrubs, and a jacket, with two hot chocolates.

“Thank you.” She smiles and takes the warm drink from him. “Harry, this is Marvin.”

“Aw.” He pouts, and squats down to put his hand in front of Marvin’s nose before he pets him. “Nice to meet you little guy.” He looks up at Abby. “He’s even cuter in person.”

“Right? I’m really excited we could get out for a little bit today. He loves when I can take him for a good walk.” Harry stands back up straight and they all start walking. “Were you in surgery today?”

“Yeah, early this morning, and I’ve got another one later this afternoon. Didn’t make much sense for me to put my other clothes back on.”

“You look cute in your scrubs.” Abby says, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Harry nudges her and he looks down at Marvin.

“He’s pretty quiet, huh?”

“He was yappy when I first got him, but he’s calmed down a lot. First summer I had him I spent a lot of time training him. Pretty much taught him not to bark unless someone’s trying to break in.”

“You must be good with discipline then.”

“I try to be. Although, I’m more of a fan of positive reinforcement.” They pull to the side as Marvin takes a tinkle near a fire hydrant. “Good boy, Marvin.” She says and gives him a kibble as a treat. “Kibbles are great treats. Can’t get fat off what he normally eats.”

“That’s really smart. Have you, uh, been laying off the jolly ranchers?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dr. Styles, I didn’t realize we were in your office.”

“Abby…”

“I’ve been trying to, but I have a horrible sweet tooth. They’re the only candy I really eat. What’s the harm?”

“Your teeth rotting out?”

“Okay, good point. I mean, I haven’t had nearly as many since I’m not really meeting with students right now, and I’ve already gone out and bought a ton of mints for the next semester.”

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

“What do you say to your male patients?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s just…you say good girl a lot…do you do that with all your female patients, and if so…what do you say to your male patients? Also, I’m an adult woman. Do you say good girl to all adult women?”

“Abby.” Harry chuckles. “I think I’ve only ever said that to you.”

“Oh, fuck off, I bet you say it all the time.”

“I really don’t.”

“Then why me?”

“You’re cute, and I tend to be a flirt sometimes.”

“You consider calling me a good girl flirting?” She stops short and he turns to look at her.

“I do.” He nods, a smirk growing on his lips. “Do you want me to stop saying it to you?”

“N-no.”

“Alright then.” He grins and they continue walking until they get to Marvin’s turn around spot, and make their way back to Abby’s building. “I’m glad we got to meet up for a bit. Still on for Friday night?”

“Definitely.” She goes up on her tip toes to kiss him goodbye and inside she goes. Harry left her with butterflies in her stomach.

Harry was really hoping tonight would be the night something more happens between him and Abby. He just wanted to feel her body on his. He drives to her place around seven Friday night, and he waits outside the car for her.

“Hello, beautiful.” He says to her as she steps outside.

“Hey.” She smiles and kisses him. He opens the door for her and he jogs around the other side to get back in. He takes her hand in his as she drives towards China Town. “How was your day?”

“Good, really busy, but good. I tend to get a lot of kids on Fridays since it’s an easy day for them to miss school.”

“I bet the little kids love you.”

“They do, I like being goofy with them.” They get to the restaurant, and are seated. “Do you want to share a few things?”

“Sure, that sounds good.” She smiles. “I hardly ever come out here, how’d you find this place?”

“When I was at Tufts I used to come to China Town all the time since it’s close by. I got sick of eating at all of the same places, so I decided to come around here and branch out. This is obviously nicer, but I like it a lot.” They decide which dishes they want to share, and tell the waitress when she comes over. They both also order a couple of drinks. “The semester’s starting soon, right?”

“Yeah, on Monday, actually.”

“Oh, wow! Do you feel ready?”

“For the most part.” She nods. “The first week is usually quiet, and then I start to get booked out. That’s how it was last semester, anyways. I already have some of my regulars from last semester on my calendar for next week.”

“I bet they’re excited to see you, I know I would be.” He places his hand over hers and gives it a squeeze. “Abby, um, after dinner…I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my place for a bit.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to offer, but I don’t want to leave Marvin for that long.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Another time, though.” She smiles and he nods at that.

A food runner brings their dishes over, and luckily nothing feels awkward, but Harry was sort of hoping that she’d offer to have him over after dinner instead. They both enjoy the food, and share a few laughs before heading back to Harry’s car. When he pulls up to her place they both linger for a moment.

“Thanks again for dinner, Harry, I had a great time.”

“Me too.” He looks at her. “Can I ask you something?” She nods yes at him. “Are you, uh, seeing anyone else? It’s okay if you are, we never said this was exclusive, I guess I’d just like to know.”

“No, I’m not seeing anyone else. I would have told you if I was dating around. Are you seeing anyone else?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “Good to know.” She leans across the console to kiss him, and he kisses her back. He turns his body more so he can cup her jaw. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“I…I don’t think so, I mean, just usual weekend errand type stuff. Might be grabbing drinks with some friends in the evening, why?”

“I was just thinking maybe, um, you could come over for dinner, but if you’re busy-“

“I can cancel. I can get drinks with them any time.”

“Don’t be silly.” She smiles. “We can do it another night. We’ll figure it out. I better get upstairs.” She pecks his lips. “Goodnight.” She gets out of the car, leaving him speechless. He wanted to rip his hair out at this point.

“Harry, how things going with that girl you’ve been seeing?” Greg asks him as they sit in a booth at the bar.

“Yeah, you still like her?” Lenny asks.

“Things are going well.” He nods. “But I can’t seem to figure her out. We’ve been out, like, six times and she still hasn’t invited me up to her place. I invited her back to mind last night, and she said she didn’t want to leave her dog alone for long.”

“Have you kissed?” Greg asks.

“Yeah, we’ve kissed plenty of times. We just haven’t done anything else. I mean, we don’t need to jump right into bed, but it’d be nice to do a little more.”

“I get what you’re saying, man.” Lenny says. “Maybe she’s just nervous.”

“I didn’t think I was giving her a reason to be.” Harry sighs. “She invited me over tonight, but I stupidly told her I had plans with you lot.”

“What are you doing with us then?! Go pick up some dessert, and go get your girl!” Greg says.

“I can’t just show up at her place…I’ll look like a stalker. What if she’s not even home?”

“So text her.” Lenny shrugs. “See if she’s around and ask if you can stop by. Tell her you’re at bar in the neighborhood.”

“But I’m not. She’ll know I’m lying.”

“Dude, just text her and see if she’s around.” Greg says.

Harry takes out his phone and types out a text. He hesitates before hitting send.

Harry: Hey, Abby! Are you home? I’m finishing up with my friends a bit earlier than I thought…maybe I could bring some dessert over?

Abby: Hey! Yeah, I’m home, snuggled up with Marv. I’d love it if you came by, especially if there’s dessert involved lol

Harry: Great! I can be by in about 30 minutes

Abby: sounds good! See you soon

“Alright, I’m gonna go up to the bar and get a lava cake to go. Thanks for being so cool about this guys.”

“No worries, H.” Lenny says. “Good luck.”

Harry races to Abby’s once he’s gotten the cake, and she buzzes him in. He knocks on her door, and she opens it for him.

“Hey.” She smiles and steps aside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” He pecks her cheek. “Hope you like chocolate lava cake.”

“Love it.” She takes it from him. “So…this is it. It’s just a studio.” She blushes. “But the kitchen is its own area, which is nice.”

“It’s great.” He smiles at her. “You’ve definitely utilized the space.”

There’s a large monitor mounted on the wall, a desk underneath it with Abby’s laptop, and an HDMI cord connecting both. There’s a small couch a few feet back, and then her bed is up against the opposite wall. Everything was neat and tidy.

“I use this wireless mouse as a remote, and I have a Fire Stick.” She says. Marvin comes trotting in from the kitchen. “Marv, you remember Harry. I’m just gonna stick this in the kitchen. Feel free to make yourself comfortable.” She walks into the kitchen as Harry sits down on the couch. Marvin jumps up to sit in his lap.

“Hey, little guy.” Harry pets his head and scratches behind his ears. Abby comes back out. She looks really cute tonight. She was wearing glasses, her hair tied to the side in a braid, leggings and an off the shoulder sweater. “Hope I’m not intruding on your cozy evening.”

“Not at all! I’m really glad you texted, actually. Did you have fun with your friends?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Are they dentists too?”

“Mhm, we lived together while we were in medical school. Lenny and Greg.”

“Where do they both work?”

“At other practices around the city. Greg’s actually an orthodontist. They’re both junior partners, though, I’m the first of the three of us to become a senior partner at a practice. Guess that was the one good thing about Dr. Morgan leaving MidCity.”

“You’re so successful.” She bites her bottom lip and looks down at Marvin in Harry’s lap. “Look at that, you’re here five minutes and he already liked you better than me.” She reaches and takes Marvin from Harry, snuggling him to her chest before putting him on the ground.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Oh, I don’t. They’re just blue light blockers.” She takes them off and sets them on the side table next to the couch. “They help a lot when I’m on the computer for a while.”

“Ah.” He nods.

“What’s your place like?”

“I’ve got a condo, uh, it’s a three bedroom, but I use one as a home office.”

“Wow, good for you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t always get to live so comfortably.”

“You’ve earned it, I bet you work really hard.” She smiles.

“I’m sure you work hard too.”

“True.” She nods. “But I’m paying off loans, and this is all I can really afford.”

“It’s a great place.” He assures her. “I wish the studio I had when I first started out was half as nice as this. I certainly didn’t keep things as neat as you.”

“Oh, I just rushed around to clean things up before you got here. It was a mess.” She laughs.

“I’m glad you were cool with me coming by.” He puts his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. “I’ve been having a great time with you this last month.”

“Me too.”

“My birthday’s next weekend, and…um, a ton of us are getting together at this pub…I’d love it if you could come.”

“Oh! Sure, would it be Saturday?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m there, I’d love to go. That’s so nice of you to invite me.” She leans in and kisses his cheek.

He looks at her, his eyes locking in on her lips. He leans in and presses his lips to hers. Her arms go around his neck to pull him closer, her fingers tangling with the curls on the nape of his neck. His arms wrap around her, hands splaying on her back to have her chest pressed to his. He lightly sucks on her bottom lip, and she opens up wider for him. He nearly groans as he licks into her, finally. She tugs on his hair as her tongue molds to his. One of his hands slides down her back and around to the front of her stomach. He just about reaches the band of her leggings when she grabs his hand, and moves it to her hip. He gives a squeeze and she whimpers into him. He plants kisses along her jaw to her earlobe, nibbling on it gently until he kisses on her neck. He mouths at her skin before sucking on her and she gasps.

“Don’t leave a mark.” She grunts, and she feels him nod against her skin. “H-Harry, is this the only reason you wanted to come see me tonight?” She blurts out and he stops to look at her.

“What? No.” He shakes his head. “I genuinely wanted to see you and split that cake. And…I mean…yeah, I’ve been wanting to do a little bit of this.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I like you a lot, Abby, I can’t help it.”

“I like you a lot too.” She gives him a soft smile. “We can keep kissing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” She nods and brings her hand to the back of his neck to pull him back to her. This time she nibbles on his bottom lip and his hands go to her hips, squeezing and kneading. “Mm, but I don’t wanna go any further than this…not yet anyways. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course it is.”

“I just…sort of wanna see where this is going before something so serious happens between us.”

“I get it.” He smiles. “I know you’ll be worth the wait.”

Harry: hope the first day of the semester has been treating you well!

Abby couldn’t help but smile at her phone. She knew Harry was extremely busy at work, so the fact that he took a moment to text her meant so much. The only thing was he texted her during a staff meeting, and her colleague Maya noticed her goofy smile.

“Abby, how was your break?” Maya asks her after the meeting.

“It was good! Um, I sort of started seeing someone.”

“Shut up! That’s amazing, who is it, how’d you meet?”

“His name is Harry…he’s, um, my dentist.”

“Oh, my, a doctor?”

“Yeah.” Abby nods. “We actually met years ago when he was still a student, and he just so happened to take over for my other dentist who apparently retired. It’s been a little over a month. He’s super nice, and funny…and he’s really fucking handsome.” She says the last part quietly.

“Good for you. Do you have a picture of him?”

“There’s one on the practice’s website. I haven’t, like, taken a selfie with yet. Although, I wish I had when he took me ice skating.” She pulls up MidCity’s website on her phone and shows Maya.

“Holy shit! He is handsome.”

“It’s going really well too. He’s met Marvin, and he invited me to his birthday party this weekend.”

“Wow, so you’re gonna get to meet his friends already?”

“I guess so.” She smiles. “The only thing is…do I get him a gift? And if so, what do I get him? I feel like it should be casual because everything’s so new still, but if it’s too casual he might think I’m not as into him as I am.”

“Shit, yeah, that’s a tough one.” Maya steps further into Abby’s office. The girls were close, so they were used to talking about personal things. “Have you slept with him yet? You could wear something for him to unwrap.”

“No, we haven’t.” Abby sighs. “I’m trying to take things slow with him because I really like him. We’ve made out a couple of times…”

“So…is that a no?”

“I don’t know, birthday sex as a gift? I feel like that’s so…cliché or something? Plus, I feel like he’ll be expecting it. I want it to feel more special than that.” She bites her bottom lip in thought.

“Oh! Have you been out to eat with him much?”

“Yeah, a ton, why?”

“Did you notice him order any specific types of alcohol?”

“Yeah! On our first real date he had this really nice bottle of white wine ordered to our table. It was delicious, and he loved it. I remember what it was, I could just get a bottle of that and a card, right?”

“I think that’s a totally acceptable gift. It’s sentimental, so it shows you put some thought into it, but also casual enough to show you’re not a psycho.”

“Exactly.”

Abby: you’re so sweet! It’s been a little busy with meetings and stuff, but other than that no fires to put out. Thanks so much for thinking of me, I hope you’re having a good day too! 😘

Harry didn’t want Abby to walk into the pub by herself, so he said he’d pick her up on his way. She insisted he didn’t need to, but he insisted that he did. She had a black dress on with black tights and blue heels. She zips up her long coat and runs her fingers through her hair. Her phone buzzes with a text from Harry that he’s downstairs with the uber. She takes a deep breath, grabs her gift, and heads downstairs.

“Happy birthday.” She smiles and gives him a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, beautiful.” He opens the door for her and goes around to the other side. “Is that for me?” He points to the bag she’s settled into her lap.

“Maybe.” She shrugs a shoulder.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” He places his hand on her thigh.

“I said maybe, so this could easily not be for you. I guess you’ll find out later.” She side eyes him and it makes him laugh.

“How was your first week back to campus?”

“Exhausting.” She sighs. “But I caught up on sleep this morning. Everyone was excited to see Marvin.” She chuckles. “And it was good to see my friends and students.”

“That’s good.” Harry smiles.

“What about you? How was your week?”

“Busy. I had four different surgeries, a ton of cavities, and a fuck ton of cleaning check ins. I think a lot of college kids were getting in their bi-annual visits before going back to school.”

“Ohhh, yup, I bet that’s what it was. Is there ever a time of year you’re super busy?”

“I would say summers I do a lot of wisdom teeth removals, so I get bogged down there. Everything’s pretty consistent, though.”

“So, who’s going to be at this party?”

“My friends Greg and Lenny, who are very excited to meet you.” Harry smiles and gives Abby’s thigh a squeeze. “Some people from work, you know Marie, and Dr. Morgan’s going to be there as well. Some other med school buddies will be there. I’m only thirty-two it’s not really a big deal.” He shrugs.

“I’m excited to meet your friends too.” She smiles. “And it’ll be good that I’ll know a couple of people so you won’t feel like you have to babysit me.”

“Aw, babe, I wouldn’t feel like that. I wouldn’t leave your side if that’s what you wanted, no worries.”

She nods and smiles nervously at him. He just called her ‘babe’ and it filled her tummy with butterflies. The driver pulls up in front of the pub, and Harry gets out first so he can open Abby’s door. She smiles at him as he puts his hand on the small of her back to lead her inside.

“There he is!” Greg exclaims. “Happy birthday, H!” The two hug.

“Thanks, mate, this is Abby. Abby, this is Greg.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She says to him.

“Same to you, you’re even lovelier than Harry described.”

Abby giggles at that, and Harry leads her over to the coat room. It seems the whole pub had been rented out for his party. There was a small table for gifts, so she sets hers down.

“Wow, you look amazing.” Harry says, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“Thanks.” She smiles and leans in to peck his lips. “Wanna introduce me to some other people?”

“Yeah, come on.” He takes her hand and leads her back to everyone.

Abby gets introduced to Lenny, and some of Harry’s other doctor friends. She then gives Dr. Morgan a big hug, and she says hello to Marie and her wife. Harry gets Abby a glass of wine, and much to her surprise, he keeps his arm hooked around her waist for most of the evening. He clearly wanted her close by. His friends were kind, not at all arrogant, which was a tad unexpected since there were a lot of people with deep pockets in the room. Maybe doctors weren’t as snotty because they also had large student loan debts. They engaged her in conversation, asking about her work, and why the heck she wanted to spend her time with Harry, which made a lot of people laugh. Harry lit up when he was explaining how he and Abby actually met ears ago, and he talked about the card she had sent along to him, making her blush a bit. Everyone found the story to be quite endearing.

“Are you having a good time?” Harry asks Abby as they go up to the bar together.

“I am, your friends are great. Are you? It’s your birthday.”

“I’m having a wonderful time, even more so since you’re here.” He kisses her cheek and hands her a new glass of wine.

A tray of cupcakes is brought out, and everyone sings happy birthday to Harry. He blows out a few candles and thanks everyone for coming. The cupcakes were delicious, clearly from a nice bakery. Harry notices Abby getting a little bit of frosting on the corner of her mouth, and before she can grab a napkin, he’s catching it with his thumb and sucking it into his mouth. Her eyes widen as he winks at her.

“Th-thank you.” She says, clearing her throat.

“Don’t mention it.” He pecks her lips. “I was wondering something…”

“What is it?”

“Would you like to come home with me tonight? I thought it would be nice to spend some time alone after being so social.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I’d like that.” She nods.

“Will Marvin be alright without you?”

“Yeah, my, um, neighbor’s kid is actually watching him tonight. She’s a great pet sitter. I…I told her I may not be coming home tonight, so she’s fully prepared for a sleepover.”

Harry’s smile grows, and he kisses her again. After making the rounds to say goodbye to everyone, getting their coats, gathering all of the gifts, the two get into an uber to head to Harry’s condo. There’s a doorman that says hello to Harry and gives Abby a warm smile. She follows him through the lobby to the elevators. They step inside, and Harry hits a number on one of the higher floors. He leads her to his door, and he gets it open. She follows him into his living area, and they set his gifts down. He takes her coat for her, and hangs it up in his front closet.

“This is…a really nice place.” She says as she looks around.

“I’ll give you the full tour in a moment, I’ve been dying to open your gift all night.”

“Oh.” She blushes. “It’s really nothing special.”

He gives her an unconvinced look, and grabs the bag he remembers her bringing. They both sit down on the coach, and she watches him reach inside.

“A card, classic.” He smirks and sets it aside. He reaches back inside and pulls out the bottle of wine. “This is one of my favorites! How did you know?”

“I remember you ordering it when we went to that Italian place.” She smiles and he hugs her.

“Mind if I open it, or have you had enough for the night?”

“I’d love some.”

“Great! Just hang tight.”

Harry goes into the kitchen with the bottle. While she’s waiting patiently on the couch, Abby hears music come on. She sees a Bluetooth speaker light up, he must have turned it on from his phone. He comes out with two glasses of wine, and hands her one as he sits back down.

“Thank you.” She says as she takes a sip.

“No, thank you. This was really nice of you. You’ve got a great memory.” He takes a sip and sets the glass down on a coaster on his coffee table. She does the same. “My friends adored you, by the way. I’ve already got the texts to prove it.”

“I’m glad I made such a good first impression.” She inches closer to him.

He reaches to tuck some hair behind her ear, and he leans in to kiss her. She wraps her arms around his neck, and opens her mouth for him. One of his hands falls to her thigh as the other one cups her cheek. Her fingers work their way into his hair, and he squeezes her hip.

“Abby.” He breathes, and moves to kiss on her neck, just under her earlobe.

She lets her heels fall off as she pushes him back farther on the couch. She moves to straddle one of his thighs, and she brings her lips back to his. His hands move up and down her back until they reach just above her bum. She grabs his hands and moves them down to her ass. He groans into her as he squeezes, loving how plump she is. She kisses along his jaw and to his neck, and she rolls her hips down onto his thigh. He raises it to help press into her. She whimpers into his neck, and he cups her cheeks so she’ll at him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bedroom?” He asks softly.

“I don’t wanna go to sleep yet.”

“I didn’t think you did.” He smirks.

“No, I just…I mean, if we go in there…that’s all I’ll want to do.”

“Sleep?” She nods her head yes. “Oh.”

“Harry, I’m sorry.” She sighs. “I know it’s your birthday, and you were probably hoping for some…stuff to go down between us, but I think we should wait a little longer. Is that okay?”

“Abby, I wasn’t expecting us to do anything. I mean, if we had of course it would have been nice, but it’s okay.” He assures her. “I’m just happy you wanted to come back with me.”

She leans back in to kiss him, and they continue to grope each other as they kiss. Their tongues swirl around each other, and she continues to rock back and forth on his thigh. She lets him puts his hands on her breasts, and he kneads them through her dress. He moves her to lay down on the couch and he settles himself between her legs as he hovers over her. He kisses on the tops of her breasts that were now spilling out of her dress. He sucks and bites on the plushier areas, eliciting a moan from her.

“H-Harry, maybe we should cool it before you turn me into a leopard.”

He chuckles against her and pecks her lips before he sits up.

“Would you spend the night?”

“I’d love to.”

He helps her up off the couch and leads her to the bedroom. He flips the switch for the lights, and her eyes widen. His bedroom was neat, almost a little too neat. She raises a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“I…um, have a housekeeper.” He clears his throat. “Let me just grab a few things for you. I’m assuming you’ll want something to sleep in?”

“Please.” She chuckles, watching him move to his dresser for a tee shirt and pajama bottoms.

She follows him into his en suite as he opens the closet inside to look for a spare washcloth and toothbrush. He sets everything down on his double vanity and smiles at her.

“Use whatever you need, beautiful.” He kisses her cheek and steps out to give her some privacy.

Abby strips herself of her clothes, and then washes her face. She brushes her teeth, runs her fingers through her hair, and then puts on the clothes Harry set aside for her. They were so soft and smelled just like him. She sighs happily and makes her way back into his bedroom. He smiles at her and stands up from the bed.

“Get comfortable, I’m just gonna do my thing.” He tells her and she nods. “There’s a spare phone charger on that side of the bed if you need it.” He points to the right side and she smiles.

When he’s done in the bathroom he comes out in a pair of plaid bottoms, but he’s gotten rid of his shirt altogether. He was littered with tattoos which really surprised her. She thought he only had the one little cross on his hand.

“When did you get all of those?” She asks as he gets into bed with her.

“All of what? Oh! My tattoos? Years and years ago, when I was a stupid teenager.” He chuckles. “Haven’t added to the collection in a while.” He looks down at himself. “Do you, uh, not like tattoos?”

“No! I think they’re really cool.” She furrows her brows as she scans his chest. “They’re so interesting.”

“Thanks.” He smirks.

“Did they hurt?”

“Some more than others. You sort of get used to it after a while. I’m assuming you don’t have any?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Just a few piercings.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” She tucks some hair behind her ear. “Got my cartilage, and three holes in each lobe.”

“Noticed those, I love the earrings you wear.”

“And…” She pulls the blankets back a bit and pulls the shirt she’s wearing up slightly to reveal her belly button. “Got this done when I was twenty-two. I always wanted one and said fuck it.”

“It’s cute.” He smiles as he admire the jewel attached to her naval. “Now that had to have hurt.” He says as she puts her shirt back down.

“It honestly wasn’t as bad as I thought. It was just a little pinch, the guy took really good care of me. I was a little light headed after, and it was sore for a few days, but other than that it was fine.”

They stay up talking for a bit until they eventually fall asleep. Abby had moves to rest her head on Harry’s chest, and that’s how she fell asleep, to the smooth rhythm of his heartbeat. Harry couldn’t remember the last time someone spent the night in his bed and it didn’t involve sex, there was something sort of sweet about not doing anything and still be able to fall asleep together comfortably. Maybe there was something to this taking it slow thing.

The next morning, Abby woke up being spooned by Harry. His breath was fanning over the back of her neck, and he had a leg between hers. His arm was strung across her lower stomach lazily. She grabs her phone and sees that it’s about 8:30. She yawns and wiggles a bit to adjust herself. She feels his lips press a kiss into the back of her neck and his arm tightens around her stomach.

“You awake, darling?” He coos and it nearly makes her melt.

“Mhm.” It’s all she can manage to say.

“Good morning then.” He kisses the back of her neck again.

“Good morning.” She rolls over to her other side to look at him and he gives her a sleep smile. He leans into peck her nose, and he rubs at her side.

“Sleep alright?”

“Yeah, did you?”

“Mhm.” He nods. “I’m gonna wash up and then make us some breakfast, how does that sound?”

“Sounds amazing, Harry.”

He gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. When he comes out he’s thrown a shirt on, and Abby gets up to freshen up herself. She washes her face and brushes her teeth, putting her bra on under the shirt he had given her so she wasn’t putting on a show for him. She comes out to his kitchen and smells fresh coffee. She wanted to roll her eyes as she saw him using a French press.

“Hope you like hazelnut, it’s the only flavor I’ve got.”

“It’s perfect. Got any creamer?”

“Mhm, in the fridge.” He points to it and she opens it up, grabbing the creamer on the top shelf. It was pretty much full.

“I don’t use it myself, mostly keep it for guests.” He pours the coffee into two mugs.

“Ah, and do you have guests often?”

“None that I’d want to have a sleepover with, if that’s what you’re asking.” He kisses her cheek, and she pours the creamer into her coffee. “Now, what can I make you? What do you like for breakfast?”

“Oh, nothing fancy.” She shrugs. “Whatever you feel like making is fine.”

“Eggs and toast?”

“Works for me. Can I help?”

“You can help by just having a seat.”

Abby smiles and sits down on one of the stools at Harry’s kitchen island while he works to get the eggs out of the fridge. He ends up making scrambled eggs for the two of them to keep things quick. It was a pleasant breakfast. Abby thought it was cute that Harry genuinely read from the morning newspaper. She was resting her chin on her palm watching him.

“Anything interesting going on?” She asks him.

“Nah, it’s all negative.” He sighs as he flips a page.

“Could I have the funnies?”

“Sure!” Harry finds the chunk with the comics and slides it over to her.

“Thanks, I used to look forward to this every Sunday when my dad would pick up The Globe.”

“What was your favorite?”

“There was this one called Opus. There were all these different characters, and the story was pretty linear, which I thought was cool. I actually saved the last comic strip in a scrap book. The main characters, Opus the penguin, had gone missing or something and he was trying to find himself. It really tugged at my heartstrings.”

“Sometimes I forget not all of the funnies are just for kids.”

“I’m also partial to Family Circus, and I loved Zits.”

Harry smiles and goes back to reading the paper. He liked going over the sports and arts sections most. Abby helps him clean up the dishes and then she goes to get dressed.

“Do you want some sweat pants to wear so you don’t have to put all of that back on?”

“No, I’m okay. I’m just gonna put the dress on.”

“Won’t you be cold without the stockings?”

“I’ll be alright, but thanks.”

“Let me at list drive you home.”

“Okay.” She nods.

The ride was comfortably quiet as Harry kept his hand in Abby’s. He pulls over to the side to stop in front of her building, and they look at each other. Smiles grow on both of their faces.

“You already know what I’m going to ask.” He says to her.

“I know, but I wanna hear you say it.”

“Alright, when can I see you next?”

“Hmm…what about Tuesday night? We could go to a movie. Tickets are cheaper on Tuesdays so we can splurge on snacks.”

“I like the way you think. I’d love to go to a movie. You pick, and just tell me what time I need to meet you.”

“Sounds good.” She leans in to peck his lips. “Talk to you soon.” She gets out of the car and heads up to her apartment. Chrissy, the teenager watching Marvin, was sitting on her couch watching TV. “Hey, Chrissy. I already paid you on Venmo.”

“I saw! Thanks so much.” She stands up.

“Thanks for watching him all night.” Abby scoops up Marvin and cuddles him to her chest. “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all, he was great. He was my little study buddy.”

“Perfect. Well, enjoy your Sunday. Tell your parents thanks too.”

“I will, have a good day.” Chrissy heads out and Abby sets Marvin back down.

“Alright, Mumma’s gonna take a shower and then she’ll take you for a nice, long walk, sound good?” Marvin yips excitedly at her. “S’what I thought.”

Harry was fucked. He was running late and couldn’t get to a phone because he was in the middle of a surgery. Of course the one time there’s a few delays and complications he actually has somewhere to be. He was supposed to meet Abby at 6:45PM, it was already 6:30, there was no way in hell he was going to make it. He did his best to stay focused so he could do right by his patient. By the time he was done it was 7:45PM. He tried to call Abby, but her phone went right to voicemail.”

“Shit.” He says to himself.

“Dr. Styles.” Marie says. “You should change, you’re still scrubbed up and you have blood on you. Go home and shower, she’ll understand.”

“I just wish she’d turn her phone on…”

“Maybe she went to the movie alone.” Marie shrugs. “She could be one of those good people who actually turns their phone off.”

“Right, yeah. I’m gonna freshen up here, and then I’m gonna try to catch her outside the theater.”

Harry does just that, using the hospital locker room to have a quick shower. He rushes to the movie theater and waits outside. The movie they were supposed to see should be wrapping up any moment, so he goes into the lobby to watch for her. Hopefully she was actually there.

Abby throws out her trash and walks towards the main lobby. She was just turning her phone back on when she saw Harry standing there with a very apologetic look on his face. She sighs and walks over to him.

“I’m so sorry.” He starts. “I tried calling as soon as I could, but your phone went right to voicemail.”

“I turned it off when the previews started.” She chews on her bottom lip. “What happened?”

“My last surgery of the day got delayed, and then there were some complications…everything’s fine now, but it wasn’t an easy extraction. I had to really take my time, I’m so sorry. I swear this won’t happen a lot.” He looks down at his shoes and then back to her. “Was it a good movie at least?”

“It was alright.” She sighs. “Would have been better if I had someone to make comments to.” She nudges his shoulder.

“How can I make it up to you? Are you hungry? We could-“

“I already ate, it’s okay. I know you didn’t do anything on purpose. It’s getting late, so I’m just going to head home.”

“I feel terrible.”

“Don’t.” She smiles. “Shit happens.”

“Let me at least take you home, I drove here.”

“Sure.” She takes his hand in hers as they walk out of the theater. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved, actually, but I can just eat when I get home.”

“Don’t be silly, I have leftovers. You can come up and eat if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

Once they’re up in her apartment, Harry plays with Marvin while Abby heats up her leftover stir fry and rice. She hands Harry the warm bowl and they both sit down at the small table she has in her kitchen.

“Is it hot enough?” She asks him.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” He eats a little and then looks at her. “I really do feel terrible that you waited and had to sit alone…”

“It’s really okay. It’s not my first time going to the movies by myself.” She shrugs. “I’m pretty independent.”

“I just don’t want you thinking this is something that’s going to happen a lot. It’s so rare for a surgery like this to not be timely.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s really sweet you still showed up at the theater like you did. We’re together now, that’s all that really matters.”

Harry finishes eating and cleans up his bowl. He stands with his hands in his pockets by the door and she stands with her arms crossed. Neither were sure what to do. It was really too late to hang out any longer since they both needed to work the next day.

“Are you free Friday night?” He asks her. “We could go to dinner if you like.”

“Sure, that sounds nice. Wanna say seven?”

“Works for me. I’ll pick you up then.” He caresses her cheek and kisses her. They both linger for a moment before letting go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She sighs after he leaves. It sucked being at the movies alone, but it meant the world to her that he still showed up at the end. It really showed his character, and for that she was grateful. She was still trying to gauge what kind of guy Harry was, and she had finally come to the conclusion that he was a good one.

“Two months and still nothing?” Greg asks Harry one Sunday evening as he and Lenny came over to watch the hockey game.

“Yeah.” Harry sighs as he sips on his beer. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love kissing her and, and she’s let me touch her over her clothes, but…I don’t know, she’s not as desperate and grabby as I am. What if she’s just not as into me?”

“I don’t think she’d be seeing you still if she wasn’t into you.” Lenny says. “How old is she again?”

“Twenty-six, why?”

“Well, maybe she’s hoping for things to be a little more official before she goes all the way with you.”

“Define official.” Harry mutters.

“Maybe she wants to know if you’re her boyfriend.” Lenny states.

“God, do you really think she’s hung up on some stupid label? We’re dating, we’re together, I think that’s pretty clear.”

“Remember when I dated that younger girl? She was, like, twenty-three?” Greg says and the guys both nod. “Well, she wanted to know what the status was after a few months. Obviously it didn’t work out because of the age difference, but these things matter to the younger women. They wanna know what to refer to you. Boyfriend is a lot easier to say than having to say the guy I’m seeing.”

“So, you have to ask yourself, do you want to be Abby’s boyfriend?” Lenny asks him. “If you don’t see things working out long term with her you should break it off.”

“I definitely don’t want to break it off. I really like her, and I like spending time with her.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to her place on Thursday for dinner, maybe we can talk about it then.”

“Yeah? She cooking for you again?” Greg asks.

“Mhm.” Harry smiles. “She really likes cooking for me, I don’t know why. I don’t mind it, she always makes something delicious.”

“Do you ever cook for her?” Lenny asks.

“Sure.” Harry shrugs. “We take turns.”

“That’s good, those things should definitely go both ways.�� Greg says. “I bet you she just wants to make sure you’re not going to up and leave the second she lets you hit it.”

“I don’t know why she’d even think I’d do something like that…”

“Maybe she’s been burned in the past.” Lenny shrugs. “Have you had the ex talk?”

“No.” Harry shakes his head. “It doesn’t seem like something we’ve needed to talk about…but maybe we do.”

Thursday night Harry goes over to Abby’s with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolate chip cookies. He liked bringing dessert the times she made dinner for him.

“Hey.” She smiles and kisses him once he’s inside. She must’ve had a long day at work because she was still in her work clothes. Most times when Harry came over she had already changed into comfier clothes. “How was your day?”

“It was good, how about yours?” He hands her the wine and cookies and follows her into the kitchen.

“Long.” She sighs. “I had some heavier appointments today.” She blinks a few times. “I…I cried with a student today.” She looks at him, tearing up.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, come here.” He opens his arms for her and she’s comforted by his embrace. He rests his chin on the top of her head. “Are you allowed to tell me what happened?”

“Yeah.” She sniffles and looks up at him. “This male student…he had a rough go of it in high school. A teacher…molested him, and it was this whole thing. He’s from a small town in Vermont so everyone knew. He came here to get away from it, you know? Make a fresh start? He’s started to see this girl that he really likes, and he’s petrified of her finding out, and he’s not sure if he should just tell her or if he should keep it to himself. But he’s afraid she might find out anyways somehow. I felt terrible. I mean, what kind of sick fuck uses their position of power over a kid like that, you know?”

“That’s…awful, beyond awful.” Harry frowns down at Abby.

“I just couldn’t keep it together, especially when he started crying, so I cried too. Then we both started laughing, and he was able to calm down and we talked about things more.” She steps back from Harry and wipes under eyes.

“I guess the upside is that you created such a welcoming environment that he felt safe enough to be so vulnerable with you.”

“Yeah.” She nods. “I suppose that’s a silver lining, thanks.” She smiles. “Anyways, we’re going to meet bi-weekly now just for little check ins.” She sighs and moves to stir the pot of pasta that’s on the stove. “I’m making pasta and meat sauce, hope that’s alright.”

“It’s great, Abby. Can I do anything?”

“No, everything’s just about done. Um, would you actually mind taking Marv out quickly for me? He just ate and I haven’t had a chance to take him out to do his business.”

“You got it.”

It wasn’t Harry’s first time taking Marvin out, so he really didn’t mind. He leashes him up and takes him down to the street. Marvin does his business, and Harry gets him back upstairs. By the time he comes back, Abby’s plated up dinner, and gotten the wine open and poured.

“Thank you.” She says to him, and leans down to pat Marvin’s head. “Ready to eat?”

“Mhm, thank you for cooking.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” She smiles. “I like when we get to have dinner together.”

“Me too, babe.” He takes a bite of food and moans. “This is amazing, Ab.”

“Thanks.” She blushes and takes a sip of her wine. “Harry, um, there’s something I…well…I’m just gonna come right out and say it.” She takes a deep breath as he looks at her. “Am I…am I your girlfriend?”

Harry’s concerned face softens into a smile.

“I’d like you to be.” He says to her. “I was actually going to bring this up tonight, guess you beat me to it.”

“Oh.” She says, a little surprised. “Well, good, okay.” She nods and takes a bite of food.

“I like you a lot, and I know it’s been a couple of months. I’m still having a great time with you.”

“Same here!” She assures him. “I just, you know, I don’t know what to tell my friends sometimes when they ask about you.”

“Well, now you can tell them about your boyfriend, yeah?” He smirks. “When do I get to meet these friends, hm? You’ve met all of mine.”

“That’s true.” She chews her bottom lip. “Well, I could arrange for a night out at a bar some weekend. We all love going out to dance and stuff…”

“Sounds like fun.”

“You’d be into something like that?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You just don’t exactly seem like the type of person who would enjoy going to a stuffy club with a ton of drunk people.”

“Hey, I know how to hang. Set it up and I’ll be there.”

“Great, I’ll text them.” She smiles, her body was buzzing with excitement. Harry stands up abruptly and comes over to her side of the table, cupping her jaw. He slots his lips over hers, sucking on her bottom lip and then letting her go before he sits back down. “Wh-what was that for?”

“Just wanted to give my girlfriend a kiss.” He shrugs, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Oh.” Her face had to be beat red at this point. They look at each other and smile. This time it’s Abby who decides to be bold. She gets up and sits on his lap side saddle. She grabs her phone and opens up SnapChat because it was better for taking selfies.

“What are you doing?”

“We hardly have any pictures together. Now that you’re my boyfriend that’s going to change. Smile.” She says to him, and he does as she says, taking a very cute picture.

“Send that to me?”

Abby presses her lips to his. Getting through dinner was going to take a little longer tonight.

Harry could, in fact, not hang. It was midnight and he was fighting to stay awake. He wished Abby had planned their big night out with her friends for a Saturday not Friday. It was a long week, and Harry just wanted to go to bed. He thought her friends were interesting. There was Billy, Abby’s absolute best friend. Billy happens to be trans, which Harry didn’t care about at all because Billy’s life was none of his business. Then there was Amy and Gina, Abby’s roommates from undergrad. They were all getting along fine, but the club was loud, packed, and sticky. Abby was having a good time, though, so what could he do?

“Another drink, Harry? Next round’s on me.” Billy says to him.

“Oh, no thank you. Think I’m gonna cool it.”

“Cool it?” Amy scoffs. “The night just started. Ab, hold old did you say he was again?”

“Don’t tease him.” Abby hooks an arm around Harry’s waist. “He’s thirty-two, a doctor, and he had a long week.” She looks up at him. “You’ve last two hours, go home if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow.” She puckers her lips and he kisses her.

“It was really nice meeting all of you. We’ll have to do it again sometime…maybe on a night I didn’t have two different surgeries.” He kisses Abby again. “Text me when you get home so I know you got back safe?”

“Will do, bye, babe!” Harry heads out, and Abby looks back at her friends. “He’s cute, right?”

“Very.” Gina says. “He seemed like he was having fun at the beginning.”

“He’s just tired.” Abby sighs. “We should have waited until tomorrow. He really is a lot of fun.”

“I’m sure he is.” Billy says with a smile. “So, you really haven’t slept with him yet?”

“No.” Abby shakes her head.

“What’s the hold up?” Amy asks.

“I just haven’t felt ready.” Abby shrugs. “He’s a really good kisser, though, so I know I’m close to getting there with him.”

“You haven’t even sucked his dick?” Gina asks.

“No, but I’ve felt it. We grind on each other a lot. But I always have us stop before it gets to be too much.”

“I’ve literally never known you to not want to fuck a guy you’ve been seeing.” Billy says.

“I know…I just…it all just feels like a dream come true still, and I’m afraid that once we do it something will go wrong and we’ll stop seeing each other. I have no idea why I feel like that, but I do.” Abby says.

“He’d be an idiot to let you go.” Amy says. “Do it when you’re ready, but I think I speak for the three of us when I say we approve of him.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.” The four share a group hug and go back out to the dancefloor to enjoy the rest of their night.

It was a rainy Saturday at the beginning of April. Harry told Abby to bring Marvin over to his place so they could get cozy for a lazy day of watching movies and being cozy. She happily accepted. The two of them really needed a day to relax. Abby was booked solid at work right now, and Harry was starting to get booked out with more and more wisdom teeth appointments. Harry liked when Abby would bring Marvin over. He had gotten a little dog bed for him and some toys. Harry even got him a little food and water bowl.

Abby was really falling for Harry. He made her feel safe, and he was beyond considerate. She also couldn’t believe how patient he was being. They were together three months, just entering the fourth, and they still hadn’t had sex yet. She knew he wanted it, of course, and she really wanted it too.

They were curled up on the couch together while Marvin was snoozing on his little dig bed. Neither had ever watched The Mindy Project before so they were binging it. Abby couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but she couldn’t help from blurting it out.

“Harry?” She looks up at him.

“Yeah?” He looks down at her.

“I…I love you.” His eyes widen as he looks at her, his mouth falling open. “Oh my god, it’s too soon, right? I…I…I…” Before she can ramble on anymore, he’s kissing her, hard.

“Christ, Abby.” He presses his forehead to hers. “I love you too.” He kisses her again.

“Really?”

“Of course I do. You couldn’t tell? I’ve got your picture framed on my night table, and I’ve got all this stuff here for Marvin, and I keep your favorite snacks in the pantry…”

She moves to straddle him, pushing his shoulders back into the couch. She slots her mouth over his, and he holds her close to him. She sucks on his bottom lip, making him groan.

“Harry, bring me to your bedroom, now.”

“Y-you wanna go to sleep?” He looks at her confused.

“No, I want you to fuck me.” She looks at him with dark eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

He doesn’t question her again. Instead, he lifts her up and quickly carries her down the hall to his bedroom. He gets her on the bed, hovers over her, and starts by getting her shirt off. His eyes widen when he sees the lace bra she was wearing. He furrows his brows as he gets her leggings off. He glares at her when he sees that her panties match her bra.

“What is it?” She asks innocently.

“There’s this old saying that goes along the lines of if the girl’s wearing matching underwear, then she’s the one who decided to have sex.” Abby blinks at him. “Were you planning for this tonight?”

“I was hoping.” She sits up on her elbows. “I…I’ve been fucked over before, and I really wanted to make sure I knew how we felt about each other before we did this. I’m sorry that I made us wait so long.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby.” He caresses her cheek. “I’ll admit I was a little frustrated in the beginning, but…I’m sort of glad we waited. It’ll be more special now.”

“Exactly!” She beams at him. “Can…can we get back to it now?”

He chuckles and takes his shirt off and pants off. He hovers over her and kisses on her neck and chest. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra, and tugs it away. His lips wrap around one of her nipples, and he licks around it. He sucks on her, and it makes her moan. He licks over to her other breast, and sucks on her other nipple. She pushes his head closer to her chest and tugs at his hair. He kisses and nips his way down her soft tummy. She lifts her hips as he tugs her panties off. He opens her legs and sucks a bruise into her thigh. She gasps at that and groans. He licks a flat stripe up her slit and to her clit. He does this a few times, just to get a good taste of her.

He looks up at her as his tongue flicks back and forth on her clit. He presses a hand on her pelvis and pushes up so he can see her better. He sucks on her clit and she moans out. His fingers work around her folds, feeling her wetness, and then he slides his middle finger in. He gets his ring finger in as well, and starts to pump in and out of her. He moans into her as his hips rut against the bed. She grabs at his hair as his fingers start to rub against her front wall. Abby starts panting and breathing heavier.

“Fuck, Harry, please don’t stop!”

He groans into her as his answer, and keeps doing everything exactly the same to help get her there. Her hips move along with his face, and her body starts to feel warm all over. She cries out as she comes to her release. He retracts his fingers, and he sucks on her wet center before sitting up. She catches her breath and smiles at him. He smiles at her and gets his boxers off. She whimpers when she looks at his hard dick. She crawls towards him and wraps her hand around him. She kisses his tip and wraps her lips around him.

“God, I’ve been dreaming about this.” He groans as his head rolls back while she starts to bob up and down on him. She goes down enough to choke on him, and then she pulls off. “Do you want me to use a condom?”

“No, I’m on the pill. I wanna feel you.”

He nods and gets back onto the bed with her. She opens her legs back up for him, and he rubs the head of his cock along her folds and clit. Her hips press up towards him in anticipation. He slowly presses into her, and her mouth falls open.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight.” He grunts as he bottoms out.

“Move.” She tells him. “Move, Harry.” She whines, and he starts to rock in and out of her. She clutches at his biceps and digs her nails in. “Oh my god.” She moans.

“Feels good?”

“Feels amazing.” She bites her bottom lip. “Go harder.”

“Yeah, want me to fuck you hard?”

“Fuck, yeah, really give it to me.”

He gives her a wicked grin, and then pulls out of her. He flips her onto her stomach and slides back in. He grips the back of her neck, and his other hand rests at the base of her spine. He takes a deep breath, pulls out almost all the way, and then snaps his hips back into her. She gasps, and he does it again. He smacks her ass, and continues to fuck into her hard. The hand at the base of her spine slides around to her clit and he rubs it. It doesn’t take her long to lose it again. He pulls out and sits up against his headboard. Abby sinks down on him as he grips her hips. They move in sync together as she rides him. She licks into his mouth and they both moan. His hands grab all over her body, unsure of where he liked squeezing the most. He fondles her breasts for a bit before deciding to stick with her ass.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Abby.” He says as he kisses on her neck. “I want you to come for me again.” He snakes a hand between them so he can rub her clit again.

“Fuck, yes, oh my god, Harry!” She grinds faster on him. “I want you to come inside me.”

“Shit, fuck.” He moans out and they come at the same time. “Fuck, Abby.” He breathes and kisses her, sucking on her bottom lip. Her fingers tangle back into his hair.

“Was it, um, worth the wait?”

“Oh my god, of course it was. I wanna fuck you over and over.” He smirks at her and she giggles.

“I think that can be arranged.” She pecks his lips. “Would you ever want to, um, tie me to the bed?”

“Oh, baby, if I didn’t love you before.”

#sweet tooth #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x oc #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #dentist!harry #dentistrry #harry styles oc #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic

816 notes · View notes