#but since i don't have time to draw anything new right now i figured i might as well

[eveningrainstorm]

cycle knots

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; your best friend, Rafe, finds out that you're dating someone else and he's not happy about it

warnings; some angst, jealous!Rafe, SMUT, praising and degrading, spanking, oral sex (fem receiving), hickeys, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up you all!)

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

While you were sitting on your bed doing your homework, Rafe suddenly entered your room, looking at you with anger in his ocean blue eyes.

"When were you going to tell me?" he questioned, not even bothering to say hello.

He had showed up unannounced, clearly annoyed at you; but the thing was you had no idea why he was so mad, since you hadn't done anything that could have upset him.

Or so you thought.

"Tell you what, exactly?" you asked.

Your confusion only grew as seconds passed, luckily, Rafe broke the silence and said, "That you're dating someone."

His statement surprised you, you didn't expect him to figure it out that soon; only a week had gone by since you had started seeing the guy. But guess what, Rafe Cameron seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere.

"I don't know, Rafe," you answered him, then added, "I mean, I've barely know him for a few days." You saw his stoic features harden as you talked.

"So what?" he replicated. "You didn't think I would want to know?"

You rolled your eyes at his hypocrisy; he dated a new girl every week and he for sure didn't talk to you about any of them —not that you wanted to know anyways. Why should you tell him then?

"Know what? That I'm fucking someone? I don't recall you telling me such things" you declared as you frowned, starting to get mad at him.

You stood up, taking some steps in his direction, while his eyes widened at your words. He clearly wasn't expecting to hear that.

"You've fucked him?" the blonde snapped; his jaw was visiblely tense.

"Yes, it is wrong now?" you asked him with raised eyebrows at the same time that you crossed your arms.

Your breasts poked out from the neckline of your tank top, drawing Rafe's attention for an instant. Though he looked away quickly, his intense stare made you blush a little and you let go of you arms unconsciously.

"Yeah, it is," he stated, then he added, "you said it yourself, you don't even know him that well."

He was being so unfair to you that your blood started boiling. When he fucked girls at parties, he didn't care about not knowing them; he didn't even ask for their names.

"So what?" you mocked him. "Do you know every girl you've put your dick into?"

He gasped, not knowing how to argue with that; he knew that you had a point, but he wouldn't recognise it.

"It's different," he ended up saying.

"The hell is not," you refuted.

After a few seconds of silence, in which you gave each other a deathly stare, you sighed and decided to speak again, "Sometimes I don't get you, Rafe, I just don't."

Rafe's attitude pissed you off so much; one minute he was all over you, like you were the most precious treasure he had, and the other he was fucking other girl that wasn't you. And it enraged you because you liked him, a lot, even if you didn't want to admit it out loud.

"Bet he doesn't even fuck you properly." His sudden statement made you gasp because he was, in fact, correct.

You couldn't deny the guy sucked at sex, but he was popular and good-looking and just happened to be at that party where Rafe stood you up for some blonde chick; and given that you wanted him to feel as jealous as you felt when he fucked other girls, you couldn't prove him right.

So you held your head high and, then, you lied, "I think he does it quite well actually."

You had to look up at him after he took a step closer, fixating his fiery eyes in yours. Suddenly, you were so close together that you could feel his warm breathing in your skin.

"Bet I could fuck you so much better."

He left you open-mouthed and your heart started hammering in your chest as he spoke. When he finished talking, he licked his lips with a smirk and your eyes betrayed you, looking closely at his mouth.

On a normal basis, you would have been intimidated by him, but that day you were feeling bolder than ever, so you rose up on your toes to reach his ear and whispered, "Then fuckin' prove it."

He shortened the distance between the both of you, grabbing your chin between his fingers and connecting your lips with his; the action took you by surprise and your eyes widened for a moment. In just seconds, the kiss became so hungry and desperate that your breath hitched and your legs started feeling like jelly.

Your hands caressed his cheeks, feeling the stubble on his jaw, while you closed your eyes. As the kiss deepened, you felt his bigs hands grabbing your butt and then Rafe lift you up so that he could place you in top of your bed. You felt your notes getting crushed, so, without breaking the kiss, you fumbled on the mattress for the sheets to toss them to the ground.

After that, you took off his cap, throwing it aside, to tangle your fingers in his messy hair. You pulled his blonde locks to push him away in order to start undressing; your eyes didn't leave his as you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and removed it. His eyes dropped from your eyes to your exposed breasts and his breathing became heavier.

He stood still for a few seconds, just staring at your body, before saying, "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

He leaned over you to take one of your nipples between his lips, sucking at it like a man starved. You moaned at his action as your hands sneaked under his polo shirt to touch his soft skin; when he let go of your nipple with a loud pop, you decided to take it off.

As you put his shirt aside, he started to kiss and lick your neck, marking it. You were sure he'd leave love bites all over it and the thought of everyone seeing his marks on your body only made you wetter.

You had waited so long for that moment that it felt unreal.

"I want that fuckin' asshole to know who you really belong to, baby," he stated, gently bitting your collarbone.

His hand wandered over your left thigh, caressing your naked skin, until it reached your shorts. He looked at your face, asking for permission to undress you completely; you nodded to make him know that it was okay. Rafe smirked and, then, took off your shorts and underwear.

He didn't waste any time after that; he just buried his face between your legs. His action took you by surprise and you gasped for air while you grabbed at your bedsheets, moaning loudly when he sucked hungrily at your clit. Your back arched because of the pleasure his talented tongue was giving you, licking every sensitive part of your pussy from your entrance to your bundle of nerves.

Seconds later, you felt how Rafe placed his tongue right onto your clit again, licking it up and down at a tortuous pace. Your legs started shaking and you grabbed his hair to bring his head closer to you; he was almost suffocating in your pussy, but he couldn't think of a better way of dying. You felt a little bit ashamed when you started cumming after just a few minutes of stimulation, however, Rafe encouraged you to do so.

"That's it, baby, cum in my face like the little slut you are," he said, rubbing your clit with his thumb to help you ride your orgasm.

"Oh my god! Rafe!" you moaned, desperately grinding your pussy against his mouth.

The pleasure clouded all of your senses for what seemed minutes and when the feeling went away, you looked down to find his blue eyes staring at you, mesmerised.

"I love you," he admitted, climbing over you to kiss your lips hungrily but you couldn't return the kiss.

"What?" you asked, totally surprised by his confession.

"I love you, baby, do you love me?" he answered, caressing your cheek while he placed himself between your legs.

It took you a few seconds to react, but you finally said, "I love you, Rafe."

He smiled at you, giving you a short kiss before unbuttoning his short dress pants under your attentive gaze. You tried to help him undress but he didn't allow it, grabbing your hips to turn you around and place you over your stomach. After that, Rafe couldn't resist the urge to spank you and his action made you moan.

"Stay still, baby," he ordered while he finished undressing.

"Again," you demanded, ignoring his request.

You heard his laughter.

"So my little slut likes to be spanked... Interesting," he pointed out, positioning behind you and lifting your hips from the mattress.

Then, he slapped you again, harder that time, and you moaned, feeling your pussy getting wetter —if that was possible. You looked back, finding him in all his naked glory and your cheeks turned red at the sight.

He was gorgeous, every part of him.

"Please, Rafe," you begged, shaking your butt in need of some sort of friction.

"Fuck, baby, you have the prettiest cunt," he told you, rubbing the thick head of his cock over your clit and you squirmed in response, "I'm going to fucking destroy you, sweetheart."

He penetranted you in one single thrust, taking your breath away because of the sudden intrusion. He was big and it took you a few minutes to adjust to his size, but he didn't push your limits, thrusting into you slowly and carefully at first, which made it more pleasant for you.

When he felt that you were ready to take more, he started pounding into you faster; his dick filled you perfectly, it was like he was made to fuck you, and in no time you were a moaning mess under him. With each thrust, his pelvis hit your ass cheeks, pushing you hard against the mattress.

"I wish you could see yourself, baby," he panted, slapping your thigh while he screwed you hard, "You look like a fucking goddess."

The bedroom was too hot; his skin was covered in sweat and it felt sticky against yours. He leaned over you, reaching for your neck to cover it with wet kisses. At the same time, his right hand trailed toward your pussy, pressing and rubbing your clit with two fingers. You held onto his arm, digging your fingernails into his skin unintentionally due to the pleasure.

You bit your lower lip so hard that your drew blood. He noticed it, so he grabbed your jaw with his free hand to bring your mouth closer to his and licked your lip clean.

"I'm so close, Rafe," you announced, whimpering on his lips.

"I know, baby, I can feel your pretty pussy tightening around my cock," he moaned next to your ear, giving you goosebumps.

Hearing Rafe's moans was your new favourite thing in the world.

"My little slut is gonna cum all over my cock?" He asked, caressing your back until he reached your ass, spanking you again.

"Rafe, yes! I'm cumming!" you almost screamed in pleasure, trembling in his strong arms.

Your muscles became so thigh that your orgasm triggered his own.

"Fuck, baby, I'm cumming too," he warned, trying to pull out because he wasn't wearing a condom, but you stopped him from doing so.

You didn't want your orgasm ruined.

"Inside, please," you begged.

Rafe pounded into you one last time before he came with a loud moan, filling you with his cum. He kept thrusting into you for a few seconds to ride his climax and then he collapsed over you on the mattress. It took him a moment to move to the side to cuddle with you; both of you were gasping for breath.

"Who fucks you better then?"

You couldn't help but smile and answered, "You do, Rafe."

[kquil]

SIRIUS BLACK | HIS FUTURE WIFE

request : Hi, this is my first time requesting so I don't really know how 😅, but can you write something with Sirius being in love with reader and basically just like jily type of love where he always follows her and calls his future wife — @moonlightwonderland

length : 1.1k

“There’s my girl,” Sirius grins, walking up to you with his arms open as if he was expecting a hug. 

“I’m not your girl, Sirius,” you huff, clutching your books closer to your chest and side stepping, avoiding his arms entirely. It’s been a year since Sirius Black has decided to pursue only you and abandoned his playboy persona. Now he was a committed man. His entire focus has zeroed in on you and you hate it. You hardly used to draw any attention but now, most of the female population at Hogwarts was glaring you down. It’s not your fault Sirius Black decided to turn over a new leaf and made you his primary objective; these girls need to stop making it seem like you forced Sirius to take amortentia. 

But, from the circumstances, you might as well have given him the love potion. He follows you around and does whatever he can to get your attention, even if he makes a fool of himself. He goes out of his way to buy and give you your favourite treats from Honeydukes and helpfully does your bidding wherever, whenever. It would have been a nice gesture when he brought down books from higher shelves for you that one time…if only he didn’t immediately demand a kiss as ‘thanks’ right after. He deserved being hit upside the head for that.   

You just want to be left alone so you wouldn’t have to worry about constantly being stared at by envious girls or gossiping teens who had nothing better to do with their time. 

“My future wife then,” Sirius’s boyish grin grows wider the instant you roll your eyes at him and stomp away, figuring a different route for your journey to class would help you avoid the rebellious teen. But Sirius is unrelenting, following after you with a skip in his step. 

“Stop following me, Sirius,” you groaned and quickened your pace but it was no use. His persistence is challenging and you eventually succumb to his irritable company. 

“But I don’t want to, wifey,” he protests. 

“Don’t call me that, and it doesn’t matter; I want you to leave me alone,‘ you counter. 

“No,”

“Yes,”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Your bickering is commonplace in the hallways and within classes now, although it’s more a legitimate argument for you and Sirius is just playing along. It truly was a mystery to everyone why the Sirius Black, notorious fuckboy and ladies man was suddenly abandoning all that for one girl. Only he knew the real reason. And it was frustrating, especially to you. He can’t just change everything about his mannerisms and force all that attention on you, his good looks, fun personality and enchanting eyes could only absolve him so much. You’d rather be dead before you ever confess that to him, though, it’ll only worsen your situation. 

You did have one saving grace, however. When classes were over, you could find peace and quiet down by the black lake, teetering on the borders of the forbidden forest. This was where you had met your year-long dearest friend, Snuffles. Injured and quivering from the cold, you nursed him back to health a year ago, abandoning your classes for the day so that you could make sure he got better. You knew that dogs weren’t allowed at Hogwarts so you didn’t want to risk anything by taking him to madam Pomfrey. Thankfully, his injuries weren’t too bad at the time and he just needed some company to care for him lovingly. 

“Hello handsome,” you smile upon seeing the familiar black dog through the trees of the forest. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, he bounds over with enthusiastic barks and happy tail wags, “I’m happy to see you too boy!” kneeling down, you hug him around his neck and press kisses into his soft fur, “How are we today, hm?” as if he could understand you, Snuffles barks and sits before laying down to rest his head in your lap. 

Cooing at the large beast, you begin your usual pets as you delve into how your day was going, making small jokes and giving the occasional complaint over workload and stress build up. Snuffles gives a gentle whine as he paws at your thigh as if distressed over your worries and you smile warmly. He seems so human, someone that really cares about you and your wellbeing, it was nice to have. 

“Thank you for worrying about me Snuffles,” you muse softly, “but I’m really okay…so long as Sirius Black stays the hell away from me,” you huff in annoyance. It’s only natural that the conversation directs itself to the man in question as he’s made himself a prominent part of your days for the last year, “ugh! He’s so infuriating,” you frown down at the black dog still resting in your lap, “he won’t leave me alone no matter how much I tell him to. He’s been doing it for a year now and I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Today, he actually called me his future wife! What’s that about?!” you groan and push your head back. 

The sky is a pretty blue and you stare at it for a while before you continue, looking down when you feel a significant shift in Snuffles’s postion. The large black dog sits up and leans over to prop his head up on your shoulder and press his muzzle into your neck. He finds a sensitive spot and elicits a dulcet giggle from you, “if only he was as sweet and gentle as you, Snuffles,” you sigh, a small heat climbing up your neck and settling into your cheeks, “maybe then he could finally get me, just like he wants,” Snuffles pulls away and huffs, his version of a subtle sneeze. 

“Excuse you,” you tease, reaching up to scratch at the fur on his neck before you cup his face and bring his nose close so you could boop it with your own. 

“It’s a real shame, though,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around Snuffles’s neck once more and tucking your face into his fur, “his looks are exactly my type…”  Snuffles stiffens under your embrace but you don’t notice, “and he has some good personality traits too…if only he wasn’t so irritating,” there was a stutter in Snuffles’s movement when you lean back and pet his head softly, “you know, he started acting strange like this after I met you, Snuffles…I-” it was just a passing thought but there was a sudden realisation that slowly consumes your features, reflecting primarily in your eyes. It doesn’t help that the large dog before you slowly morphs into the man you were just complaining about. 

“Clever girl,” Sirius grins as he takes your chin in his fingers and pulls you in close, his breath ticking your lips as he continues to whisper, “I expect nothing less from my future wife,”

When he kisses you, sweet but amorously, you kiss back.

a/n : my first request! lets go! i hope i did it justice darling, and i hope everybody enjoyed the read!

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taglist : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @tiensmamains @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @rosaleenablack

[roosterforme]

How Old Are You? | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob only gets one birthday every four years. When his wife, Molly, realizes it's almost Leap Day, she throws him a party any nine year old would love. And it's the perfect celebration for a thirty-six year old, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, implied smut, 18+

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC!Molly (this story accompanies The Curveball)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob was half asleep in bed, post orgasm, when the weird conversation started. "So technically you're about to turn nine? Even though you'll be thirty-six? Is that right?"

He cracked his eyes open again as he watched his wife stretch her arms above her head, her nipple piercings glinting in the soft candlelight that had their bedroom aglow. She was nibbling on her lip, and he could practically see her mind working.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Why do you have that expression on your face, Mo? Like you're plotting something scary?"

"I've never plotted something scary a day in my life!" she told him before leaning down and gently biting his bicep. "I was merely considering what I should get you for your special day."

"I don't need anything," he replied quickly, remembering the naked cowboy statue wearing glasses that she gifted to him last year.

"Well," she said, drawing out the single syllable. "That's where I think you're wrong, Bobby."

"Molly, I don't even want anything." Then he had an idea that he hoped would throw her off. "How about you get some pretty new barbells or rings and let me play with them?"

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a gift for me."

He shrugged as she draped herself across him. "Kind of for both of us when you really think about it."

Her soft lips found his jaw as she whispered, "But it's not every day you turn nine, Coach Cute Glasses. You deserve an extra special treat."

He shook his head in exasperation and said, "I'll really be thirty six though."

"Not according to the calendar." She kissed him sweetly before climbing over him to get out of the bed. "I'll go check on Charlie and Flora one last time before we go to sleep." Bob watched her slip his discarded undershirt on and smooth it down over her gorgeous body, perhaps a little more filled out now that they had two kids.

He reached for her hand and said, "Mo, we really need to sell the condo and get a bigger place. They can't share that tiny room forever."

Even though she told him all the time that she loved the condo and didn't want to leave it, she was finally starting to come around. "I think I'm ready to admit that you might be right about that, Uncle Bob."

"Really?" he asked, jolting up in bed.

She nodded and hummed. "Yes. Besides, your birthday party would be a lot easier to plan if we had more space to accommodate all the guests."

Bob groaned and flopped back down again, and Molly removed his glasses for him. "I don't need a birthday party," he insisted. "I just want a nice, quiet evening with you and the kids. Maybe your sister, Ev and Bradley, too, but that's it."

"We'll see," she replied before leaving the bedroom with a wicked smirk on her face.

----------------------------

"Can you get to my sister's house by noon on your birthday? For your party?" Molly asked as she watched Bob feed a mashed up banana to their one year old daughter. 

"I thought we ended that discussion with us both accepting the fact that I do not need a birthday party."

"Yeah... it's too late for that," she replied easily as she and Charlie both ate their own dinners. Molly's favorite hobby was keeping her husband on his toes. She figured his life would be sad and boring without her in it, and since he chose to be with her, he must have a deep-seated love for nonsense. She always made sure to bring it out for him, especially for his birthday. 

He gave her a stern look. "It's just a small party, right?"

"Sure, Bobby."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come on," she whined. "This is your first real birthday since we met!"

She knew he would crack. He gave her what she wanted the vast majority of the time anyway, but when she whined for something harmless, it was always hers. 

"Fine."

And with that single word, Molly executed the most epic ninth birthday anyone could ever have. She called the vendors. She ordered the piñata. She invited the guests. She procured a balloon arch. And on Bob's birthday, her own sister and brother-in-law were looking at her with shocked expressions from their back deck when she started setting things up at eight in the morning. 

"I thought this was going to be a small party?" Bradley asked as he watched her assemble the red and yellow balloon arch. 

Molly just laughed. "That's just what I told Bob. I lied. The pony should be arriving soon."

"Pony?" gasped her sister. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. Did you say a pony is arriving?"

"Yes," Molly said, speaking a little louder now to make her point. "How the hell are we supposed to have a cowboy birthday party without pony rides?"

Then Everett came tearing out onto the back deck, still in his pajamas, shouting, "Someone is bringing a horse around from the driveway!"

"See?" Molly asked as the pony and handler appeared in the backyard. "Ev is excited. He has good taste."

"He's ten!" Bradley snapped as he went running across the yard. "Is this thing going to tear up the grass that I spent months watering so it looked this nice?" But as soon as he saw how excited Everett was to pet the cute animal, Molly knew her brother-in-law would be on her side. It was just her sister glaring at her now.

"Whatever you mess up out here, you need to clean up. That includes the horse poop!"

"It's just a pony," Molly assured her, although the animal was a lot bigger than she expected. And yes, it was actually pooping. "It's fine. It'll be fine."

She was hoping it would be fine.

--------------------------

When Bob buckled Charlie and Flora back into their car seats in his truck at Myers park, he checked the time. It was almost noon. "Oh god," he groaned as he opened the driver's door. He had no idea what to expect, but the text from Bradley about how he was going to need help filling in the hoof prints in their yard next week had him on edge.

"Birthday party!" Charlie cheered from the backseat as Bob pulled out onto the main road. Molly had been talking about it so much, their son kept saying it over and over.

"That's right," Bob told him calmly. "But I'm pretty sure Mommy went bananas over the entire thing."

"Nana!" Flora crooned before she burst into tears. He should have known better than to mention her favorite food right in front of her like that. So he drove to his sister-in-law and brother-in-law's house with one delighted child and one who was crying hysterically. When he pulled down their block, there was absolutely nowhere to park, and there was a horse trailer parked right in front of the house. 

"Oh, no. No no no. Molly, no," he whispered. When he got closer, he saw the massive banner hanging on the porch that said Happy Birthday, Cowboy Bob. He had to squeeze his truck into the driveway behind the familiar blue Bronco while he gaped at the sight before him.

"Horse!" Charlie screeched. He wasn't wrong. There was some sort of pony walking around the backyard with Everett perched on top of the saddle wearing a cowboy hat. "I want the horse!"

"Okay," Bob told him as he shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the back of the house with one child in each arm, and thankfully when Flora saw the pony, she stopped crying, perhaps out of fear. 

"Bob!" Molly shouted over the classic country music that was playing as she popped out of the enormous rodeo themed bounce house and ran to him. Literally everyone he'd ever seen in his life seemed to be here, and they were all wearing cowboy hats. Everyone from work was here. Like everyone. Cyclone was wearing a cowboy hat and drinking a beer. Bob thought he saw the doctor that Molly worked with who delivered both of their children. His parents and both of his sisters were here. His niece Piper was taking a turn riding the pony. There were indeed hoof prints in the yard.

Then Molly was somehow in his arms along with both kids, and she was kissing his neck as she said, "Happy birthday," in a voice that would have been a lot more appropriate for their bedroom. 

"Mo," he said, shaking his head. "There's a pony. It's making Bradley look constipated." 

She just rolled her eyes in response. "He'll get over it as soon as I offer to watch Everett for a few days over spring break so he and my sister can go away and do nasty stuff to each other."

Bob just smiled down at her and said, "You told me this would be a small affair."

"I guess I lied. Oops. Come say hi to Phoenix." She dragged him up onto the deck where Natasha took both kids from him with a kiss to his cheek, and then Molly was yanking his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, standing there in his undershirt with his glasses askew. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was pulling another shirt over his head. It said Birthday Cowboy, and there was a number 9 that looked like it was shaped out of rope.

And that's when everyone started hugging him and running around to get him drinks and chat with him. Mickey was wearing cowboy boots and a cow print vest. Maverick was teaching the kids how to line dance. Bradley's scowl had started to ease up since Everett seemed to be having the time of his life. 

"Happy birthday, Uncle Bob," Everett said when he walked over. He hugged Bob and added, "Your birthday party is my favorite birthday party ever, and I can't believe it's in my yard!"

"Thanks, Ev," he replied with a laugh as he watched Molly and Flora dancing with Javy. "It is pretty cool."

"Happy birthday, Bob," his sister-in-law said, handing him a card. "You can open it later. We got you opening day tickets for the Padres. Also, I'm so sorry that my sister is so chaotic, but you should have known what you were getting into when you started dating her."

Bob accepted another kiss on his cheek. "She really can't be stopped once she gets going." 

"It's a waste of time to even try. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."

He did, and the looser he got, the more fun he started to have. He pet the pony while Piper rode around on it. He smashed open a cowboy piñata with one of Everett's baseball bats. He jumped in the bounce house with Charlie and Everett, and Bradley even joined them.

"I'll help you fix your yard next week," Bob promised as Everett did a backflip. 

Bradley just laughed and said, "It's hard to be mad about it when Molly just wants everyone to have the time of their life. You're very lucky. Also, I don't know how you deal with her on a daily basis."

Bob laughed, too. "Sometimes I just take it one hour at a time."

"Get ready for cake!" Molly shouted, and it took five people to carry out the biggest sheet cake he'd ever seen in his life. It was cow print and decorated with boots and spurs, and said Happy 9th Birthday, Cowboy Bob!

After he blew out the nine candles he reached for Molly. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I didn't know I needed a ninth birthday party, but I guess I really did."

"You're only a kid once, Bobby," she replied, smiling against his lips.

"You do know I'm actually thirty-six, right?" he asked, pulling her snug against him as her sister started to cut up the cake. 

"Not according to the calendar," she responded, patting him gently on the cheek. "Your mom and I had a lovely conversation about how terrible you look for your age."

He tried not to smile, but it was useless. "I'm actually having the best day, Mo."

"I knew it all along."

---------------------------

Both kids were sound asleep as soon as Molly tucked them into bed. Charlie went on a sugar high and then crashed, and Flora was played with and held by seemingly everyone at the party. They would probably sleep for a solid twelve hours. Which was good, because Molly wanted to give her husband the rest of his birthday presents. 

She found him in their bedroom where he was opening up the cards he got with a soft smile on his face. "You have so many friends," she told him, and he turned to look at her. "Everyone loves Bob Floyd."

He actually blushed which made her want to rip all of his clothing to shreds and have her way with him. He shook his head slightly and said, "Everyone loves the amazing Molly Floyd and her beautiful imagination."

"Bobby," she moaned softly, taking the card from his hand and wrapping her arms around him. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."

He laughed and whispered, "You threw me the equivalent of a kids' ninth birthday party, just because you could. My dad participated in the pie eating contest. My mom learned how to line dance. Bradley almost popped a vein in his forehead. It was wonderful."

She sighed in contentment. "In four more years when you turn ten, we'll be in a bigger house, and we can host your party there. But we'll have to wait and see if you're still into cowboys or if your interests change, Kiddo. Now will you please open your present from me? And put on your cowboy hat? I've always wanted to suck a real cowboy's cock."

Bob grinned. "Molly, you suck my cock when I'm wearing my cowboy hat all the time."

"But you've never had assless chaps before."

Bob let out a strangled sound, and when he opened the box that was wrapped in cowboy paper, there were in fact assless chaps inside. "Please, please, please put them on," Molly moaned. "God, I feel like it's my birthday."

As soon as she started whining, he always gave her what she wanted. It was impossible not to. Five minutes later, Bob was standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing the chaps, his birthday shirt, and his old cowboy hat. Molly was panting and biting her knuckle, already obviously raring to go down on him, which just made him harder.

But she took a step toward him and then stopped, a devilish smirk on his face. "Now wait. I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma with you in that shirt. How old are you again?"

"I'm thirty-six," he replied blandly. 

"You sure about that, Cowboy Bob?"

"Molly! I'm thirty-six!"

"Okay, okay. Just checking," she said, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. "But let's just remove this anyway."

------------------------

I had a blast revisiting these two! I'm so deeply in love with Molly. I hope you enjoyed Bob's birthday celebration. Thanks for reading! And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[sonotpattismith]

I'll Never Cross The Line (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

don't touch, I'll never cross the line, so I pushed you down a million times / if I don't try, then it's my loss- an inch away from more than just friends. word count: 11.2k (SORRY) warnings: bartender!sukuna au, suggestive content, 18+ a/n: This wasn't a request, just an idea I had inspired by Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan. I HIGHLY recommend listening to it to set the vibes. Side note, if ANYONE can find or knows the OG artist for this drawing PLEASE lmk so I can credit them. It was the only art I found that fit the vibe I had in mind for bartender Sukuna 😮‍💨

You know, maybe retail wouldn’t be the worst option. Sure, you would definitely make significantly less without the steady stream of tips, but surely it would be better than dealing with drunken groups of men every weekend, right? You’ll grow a backbone-- you’ll tell them to quit being assholes. Of course, that was about fifty tables ago, and you knew you would never have the nerve to stand up for yourself, much less piss off a table bad enough to leave you a shitty tip. So, you forced a smile and said ‘of course, I’ll have the bar remake this for you’, and, no, you wouldn’t say anything about the disgusting little nickname that continued to roll off their tongues at you. 

Gulping back the bile that rose in your throat at the feeling of their eyes on your ass as you walked away, you begrudgingly made your way to the bar. It had been almost a year since you had quit your cashier job in favor of something that could make you a little more money. It’s not that you hated your job, but you did wish you had a little more courage to stand up for yourself in instances like these that seemed to happen more and more as your hostess experience grew. In addition to having to suck up their complaints with your non-confrontational, fake smile, it didn’t help that the new bartender that was hired a few weeks back was even more terrifying than the belligerent men you were exchanging drinks for. 

Sukuna, you recalled another hostess saying his name was, never really did anything to warrant such fear from you, or any of the other staff for that matter, but his aura was definitely no sunshines and roses. He stood at a staggering height as he maneuvered nonchalantly behind the bar, intimidatingly bulking muscles flexing under his typical black t-shirt as he shook a drink over his shoulder. His face was littered in mysteriously intricate black tattoos that were complimented by the black studs in his ears. The man was fairly quiet, save for the rare occassions you’d hear his booming laughter echo throughout the dimly lit restaurant when chatting up a customer. Other than the rare small talk with some random customers that happened to catch his interest, Sukuna kept to himself. 

So, realistically, you shouldn’t be so scared to ask him to kindly remake these old fashions so that your table would stop bitching to you about how ‘watered down’ they were. Still, as his brooding figure grew closer and closer, you couldn’t stop the pounding in your chest. Shaky hands placed the three glasses onto the bar before him. His seemingly bored eyes looked down at the full glasses before darting back up to you with a raised brow. As if the dude couldn’t get more intimidating, you now noted with how close he was that his eyes were almost a deep ruby color. Who the fuck has red eyes? 

It was a moment of silent staring at one another before he noted you were too scared to open your mouth and spit out whatever the problem was. Sukuna was used to the timid looks by now. As far as he was concerned, it came with the tatted up, quiet, and large territory. Most of the hosts and hostesses seemed to want to keep their distance from him, but he never took it personally. 

“Problem with the drinks?” 

“Um.. well, I’m sure you made them fine, but…” You chewed on your bottom lip apprehensively, trying to figure out how to not make it sound like you didn’t think he knew how to do his job. His marked up face remained neutral, towel drying a glass in the meantime as he awaited your explanation. You glanced over your shoulder to the offending table, cursing under your breath when you noted they were looking back at you and whispering to each other as if asking ‘what the fuck the hold up was for’. Quickly turning to face Sukuna again, you were unsure which party you were more intimidated by. He had followed your gaze already though, regarding the group of men with an unimpressed expression. Opening your mouth to explain before you pissed either off even more, the bartender cut you off. 

“Those assholes giving you a hard time?”

Your mouth hung open like a fish for a moment, and a glimmer of hope sparked in you. Closing your mouth, you grasped the edge of the bar and desperately leaned closer to him. 

“Yes, they’re total creeps, and they keep saying that you watered down their drinks, and I know you probably didn’t, but they’ve been bitching at me for like ten minutes. So if you could please just remake them, I would forever be in your debt.”

Sukuna stared down at you throughout your desperate, breathless explanation, and you could swear you saw just a glimmer of amusement behind those intense eyes. Without a word, he brought one of the abandoned glasses up to his lips to try it. Licking his lips boredly, he shook his head. 

“Doesn’t taste watered down to me. Does it taste watered down to you?” In an instant, he was holding the drink up to your lips. Already flustered at the predicament you were in, you hesitantly took a small sip, cringing as the bitter liquid hit your tongue. The man before you hummed in question, setting the glass back down between you. 

“Uh… I don’t really drink anything that doesn’t come with a little umbrella in it. So, maybe I’m not the best person to judge?”

A small, amused smile graced his lips, and, in just that second, the new bartender appeared far less intimidating than you previously believed him to be. Shaking his head, he grabbed the glasses and emptied them into the drains, moving to begin remaking the drinks. Usually, he would have sent the drinks right back to the table with a scoff, but it wasn’t too busy at the moment, what with everyone’s eyes glued to the game playing on the screen above him, and he had a feeling you would combust on the spot if you had to return the same, unaltered drinked to the group of degenerates that had been oogling you since you walked up to his bar. 

“I’ll remake ‘em, but do something for me, will ya?” 

You leaned forward, watching the muscles beneath his tight shirt flex with each calculated movement he made. In your head, you were practically floating through air knowing you were dodging the bitch-out you had been positive he was going to give you about bothering him with such a thing. You glanced up at him in question as he began pouring the mixed drink into the three, clean glasses he had set in front of you. 

“Tell ‘em if they don’t stop acting like a bunch of lowlives, you’ll spit in the damn drinks next time.” 

Your eyes widened at his proposal. His brow quirked up in challenge as he pushed the drinks forward. Nodding his chin toward the table, he urged you on. 

“Go on, I wanna see their faces.” 

“I-I can’t say that, Sukuna…” You refused, shaking your head with a nervous chuckle.

“Why not? You the type that lets assholes walk all over you?”

“Well,” You blushed furiously in embarrassment, wishing you could defend yourself against his accusations. He was right though; you should grow more of a backbone. The other hostesses, while they knew how to pick their battles, seemed to have no problem putting their foot down to disrespectful customers like these. You had been like that for as long as you could remember, not speaking up unless spoken to, and certainly not speaking up when you were being spoken against. “No, but I’m the type that at least wants a good tip if I’ve had to put up with borderline harassment for two hours.”

As if on cue, your table hollered at you with a low whistle to question what was taking you so long. Grasping the glasses between your fingers, his large hand quickly stopped you, taking the drinks from you. Your eyes widened in horror as he moved to step out from behind the bar, nodding to a customer that he’d be with them in a minute. From outside his usual post, the large man appeared that much taller as you came face to face with his broad chest. 

“I’ll do it then.” 

If there was one thing Sukuna couldn’t stand-- it was weak people. Even more so, the people that were so weak they prayed on the smaller people, the kind that were too nice to do anything about it. Sure, it pissed him off that you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but that was a problem for another time. At the present, there was a table of three drunk men calling the nice, sparkly eyed young waitress over like a dog. Not only that, they had already pissed him off by making him redo the perfectly fine drinks he’d finished not even five minutes ago. 

He felt a pair of small hands grasp desperately at his bicep as he moved to deliver the fresh set of drinks. For a moment, you felt intimidated once again as he glared down at you. Without a word, you quickly released him, deciding the dock in your tip was a better fate than whatever was lurking behind that terrifying glare. Chewing anxiously at your fingernails, you watched with bated breath as Sukuna approached the table, slamming the drinks down in front of them. You almost wished you could hear what he was saying to them-- what with the way their faces morphed before the six-foot something beast standing threateningly in front of them. If you weren’t so fucking anxious, you would have laughed. 

Before you knew it, he was making his way back behind the bar with that nonchalant expression back on his face. You stared incredulously up at him in question. 

“Well?”

“Don’t worry, doll. They’re gonna be real nice to you the rest of the night.”

And they were. You weren’t sure what the bartender said to them, or threatened them with, but they were saying please, thank you, and calling you ma’am the rest of the night. Hell, they’d even still left you a decent tip. For the weeks that followed, you regarded the bartender a bit more comfortably-- greeting him with an appreciative smile each time he came in, making sure to wave goodbye to him on the nights you clocked out before him. He was still quiet and reserved, but would engage in the occasional small talk with you when you’d bounce over to him with a bar order. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks after that incident that you found yourself actually requesting his… services again. There had been a few instances when you considered getting the big, scary bartender to come set your table straight for you, but the last thing you wanted to do was annoy him when he was busy enough as it was. This night though, the family before you damn near had you in tears by the time they were done with you. It started with an incorrect substitution, which, okay yeah, that fuck up was on you, but you apologized profusely and even offered to comp the entree for them. It all only went downhill after that though, and you had already been called incompetent, useless, and bimbo all in the span of an hour. 

So, as you tentatively approached the bar that didn’t seem all too busy at the moment, you just felt like that much more of an idiot. Sukuna was speaking casually with a customer as he screwed off the top of a fresh beer bottle and handed it to him. He leaned against the counter, too engrossed in his conversation to notice the timid waitress anxiously awaiting him to finish talking. His ruby eyes drifted absentmindedly to where you were standing, doing a double take when he saw your flushed cheeks and wringing hands. 

As he excused himself from the conversation and walked toward you, you silently set an already half-drank piña colada on the counter. He regarded it with a scoff, nodded up at you in question. 

“What’s with the face? You look like someone killed your puppy.”

“Table three says that you made this a virgin.” 

“And they only noticed after drinking damn near the entire thing? I can smell the rum from here. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

You glanced up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, praying he’d get the hint and go straighten them out for you so you didn’t have to deal with it the rest of the night. Catching on to your puppy-dog eyes, he quickly shook his head, pushing the drink toward you. 

“Uh-uh,” He refused, and your shoulders dropped in disappointment. “I ain’t always gonna be here. You gotta grow a pair, doll.” 

For a moment, you thought he was completely brushing you off when he walked back over to the wall of liquor behind him. After snatching a low level, glass bottle off the shelf along with a shot glass, he made his way back over to you and filled the tiny cup. He shoved it forward and jutted his chin at you. You stared incredulously at him. 

“Go on, take it.” Sukuna urged, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning closer to you. His ruby eyes stared at you with an intensity that was almost making you forget how shitty that table was making your night. “Drink that, then I want you to waltz your pretty ass back over to those degenerates and tell them if they wanted a double then they should have asked you for one before you rung it up.” 

“B-But… they--” You stumbled over your words, not anticipating this turn of events. Hell, you figured he would just have to glare over at them and that would scare them enough to stop fucking with you for the night. His brows rose challengingly at you. 

“I ain’t makin’ anymore of your drinks till you do it.” 

When you continued gaping at him apprehensively, he picked up the shot glass with one hand and grasped your chin with the other. A furious blush spread across your cheeks as you tipped your head back in tandem with his fingers’ urging push. The bitter liquid ran down your throat, burning all the way down to your stomach. You sputtered pathetically as he released his grip on your chin and placed the forgotten piña colada back in your hand with a devilish, yet encouraging smile. Nodding dumbly as you wiped the remaining alcohol from your chin, you turned back around to head toward the table, your fingers trembling with each step. 

Sukuna felt his chest swell with pride as he watched the family’s face contort in shock at the timid waitress finally standing her ground. Cackling shortly in amusement, he shook his head and moved to clean your leftover shotglass.

You were absolutely buzzing as you walked cooly away from the stunned table, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the shot Sukuna had practically forced down your throat, or the thrill of having actually stuck up for yourself for once. With an excited beam, you bounced back over to the bar as soon as you had finished checking up on your other tables. Your smile slowly faded upon seeing that the man you were looking for wasn’t there. 

“Hey, where’s Sukuna?” You asked your coworker who had seemingly taken over as bartender for the time being. He appeared slightly flustered trying to figure out the mixes of certain drinks. Glancing up at you absentmindedly, he nodded toward the back, muttering something about a smoke break. Without thought, you made your way through the kitchen and out the back door. 

The man in question was leaning against the brick wall, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he typed out a message on his phone. You suddenly wondered if you were bothering him by coming out here during his break. It was too late though, and he was already looking up from his phone at the sound of the door opening. Timidly, you slid out from the crack of the door, attempting to find that excitement that had led you out here in the first place. 

“Well?” He questioned, removing the cigarette from his lips and puffing a cloud of smoke out the side of his mouth. You watched as he slid his phone into his back pocket and easily pushed himself off the wall to approach you. Something about his sudden, undivided attention made you forget your shy nature all together, that eager smile lighting up your face once again. 

“You should’ve seen their faces!” You giggled energetically up at the man who somehow looked even scarier under the dim lighting of the back alley. 

“I did see ‘em. I told you, assholes like that only shit on you so much cause you let ‘em.” Sukuna smiled amusedly at the excitement clearly ripping through you, ruffling a hand through your hair. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” You mused, fixing your now frazzled hair before sighing and leaning back against the wall. “I’m definitely not getting a tip though.”

The man beside you scoffed before flicking his cigarette to the ground, smushing it carelessly under his heavy, black boot. 

“What are you so damn worked up over your tips for anyway?” He questioned with an annoyed expression, recalling that being the excuse the last time you refused to confront your less-than respectful table.

You looked down at the ash left behind under his boot, shrugging nonchalantly before glancing back up at him with a shy smile. 

“Oh, I’m saving up the tuition for a program I really wanna get into.” You explained, light pink dusting your cheeks. He hummed gravely beside you, regarding you silently. “Almost there, too. The sooner the better, y’know?”

It had been silent for a beat too long, and you were suddenly very aware of his intense, unwavering gaze on you. His head leaned against the brick wall as he stared down at you thoughtfully. Your head span a bit under the pressure, seemingly trapped within his shadow. 

“What about you?” You squeaked out, desperate to break the unexplainable tension that had risen between you. He quirked a brow at you. “Y’know, why are you working here?”

You sighed in relief when his eyes drifted to the side pensively. It was almost impossible to think clearly with those intoxicating ruby eyes bearing into your soul as if he meant to rip it out and eat it. 

“Told my brat nephew I’d stay outta trouble if he got into college.” Sukuna explained, casting a sidelong glance your way as he crossed his bulky arms over his chest. As you watched him now, you noted that the designs that defined his face and arms were also poking out the neckline of his shirt, and you wondered if he was completely covered in them. A small smirk tugged at his lips upon noticing your stare, but he didn’t mention it. “He’s a smart kid. Helluva’ lot smarter than I ever was, anyway.”

Warmth spread in your chest at the way he spoke so fondly of his nephew, even if it was in his own, guarded way. It made you want to learn more about him. The longer you spoke to him, the more you realized all those assumptions you’d held about him were quite possibly completely false. Maybe it was guilt that had you digging for more-- at least that’s what you would tell yourself. 

“What kind of trouble were you getting yourself into, Sukuna?” You pressed teasingly, but the dark, guarded smile that fell upon his lips told you that you probably shouldn’t have asked. Leaning down till his face was a mere centimeters away from yours, he tutted. 

“You don’t really wanna know the answer to that, doll.” He whispered challengingly at you, revelling in the way your cheeks lit up under his gaze. It wasn’t very nice of him, he knew that; you were that shy, bubbly type that never had a chip on your shoulder-- the kind that you couldn’t really joke around with cause you were too gullible to tell the difference. Sukuna just couldn’t help himself though, he found himself wanting to test you, to break you out of that shell. His eyes dropped to your lips, the ones that were currently being abused between your anxious teeth. Reaching up to cup your chin, his thumb gently pulled the irritated, plump skin to safety. 

“I have a boyfriend.” You quickly stammered out, heart pounding against your chest. In the back of your mind, you knew you probably should have said something earlier, but there was just something so alluring about the mysterious aura that shrouded him. 

He paused, an amused smile lighting up his face once again as he allowed his hand to drop from your chin as he backed up a respectable amount. 

“‘Course ya’ do.” He laughed lightheartedly, running a hand through his pink hair that had become tousled with the wind. “Shoulda’ started with that. I wouldn’t have been so damn nice to ya’.”

A surprised expression struck your face, words getting stuck in your throat. 

“C’mon, I’m just fucking with ya’.” He laughed again, shoving gently at your shoulder as he began walking back toward the door of the kitchen. Slowly, you began laughing too. He was sending you on a rollercoaster of emotions you could barely keep up with, but he did it so effortlessly it was as if it was second nature to him. “Geez, you were gonna let me get away with that one too, huh? Hope you don’t let your little boyfriend walk all over you like that.” 

Despite the teasing undertones in his voice, he was seriously thinking about what you’d allow from a partner if you let him and all the lowlife customers throw you around like a ragdoll without complaint. Looking down at your shoes, you let that comment slide with a shake of your head. Quickly trying to collect your thoughts, you followed him as he opened the door for you. 

“So, you’re trying to stay out of trouble.” You recounted, desperately trying to change the subject. He hummed in acknowledgement as he made his way back behind the bar, nodding to your coworker who appeared eternally grateful to put down the drink he was making and allowing Sukuna to take over. “Why bartending then?”

“Why? Think I could’ve made it in insurance?” He quipped with a knowing smirk, watching you shrink down, not wanting to answer his question for fear of offending him. The man shook his head, placing the now finished drink down on a napkin for the customer beside you. “No mornings, decent pay. Probably easier than whatever the hell they got you doing.”

You hummed in thought, watching him expertly pour a round of shots to place on one of the host’s awaiting trays. Sighing tiredly, you looked around at your tables, noting you’ve probably already been away for too long. Brushing the hair from your face, you grabbed your notepad from your apron to get back to work. 

“You should let me train you back here.” Sukuna suddenly suggested, not looking away from his concentrated mixing to see your shocked expression. “Don’t gotta be running around all day, rack up helluva’ lot more tips too, ‘specially with a face like yours. Have the money for your school crap in no time.”

You blinked up at him when he finally turned to face you. 

“The boss probably wants more help on the floor.” You explained dejectedly, despite the hope still hidden in your tone at the prospect. 

Sukuna tutted dismissively with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ll talk to ‘em. Asshole’s scared of me anyway.”

He wasn’t sure why he was doing so much for you. After all, when he had fulfilled his end of his promise to Yuji and gotten himself a real job, he said he’d keep to himself. People pissed him off too much, and they usually had a bad impression of him anyway upon first meeting. It was easier, and less obnoxious, for him to allow their imaginations to run wild about what could be lurking under that quiet, brooding persona of his. Maybe it was that beam of sunshine personality that reminded him so much of his damn nephew, or maybe it was that ambition to keep on getting bitched at everyday just so you could make it through school. It was admirable, that type of determination. 

Either way, the excited expression that washed over your face softened his hard-ass heart just a little. So, when you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck from across the counter, he let you, hoping damn well he knew what he was getting himself into. 

For the coming weeks, you came in an extra shift each week to train with Sukuna behind the bar. He taught you the basic drinks all bartenders should know, the various terms that would likely be tossed your way that you’d be expected to recognize, the sanitary procedures. Surprisingly, the monstrous looking man was actually quite patient with you when you made seemingly stupid mistakes. Sure, he’d tease you endlessly over the time you asked him what kind of alcohol went into a shirley temple, but he certainly didn’t get pissed off as easily as you thought he would. 

Even on your regular floor shifts, you found yourself gravitating toward the bar during your downtime under the guise of watching what he was doing. Truthfully though, you had become a bit attached to the way the brooding giant was clearly warming up to you. Despite his previous insistence on you learning to hold your own against bitchy customers, he was always the first to swoop in when a drunken customer’s voice got a little too loud for his liking. Sukuna made you drinks without your having to ask (non-alcoholic on shift, of course, though you wouldn’t be surprised if he snuck a shot or two into a couple of them after a particularly grueling shift). 

You attempted to press further about whatever the hell it was that he was doing before becoming a bartender, but he was always quick to dismiss the question with a guarded joke or roll of his ruby eyes. While you were kind enough to change the subject each time, there were certain times when he seriously made you wonder about his past life. Today, for example, when you were working the floor and came to drop off an order with him with your usual, peppy smile. 

“What’s with the pigtails? You in fucking grade school or something?” Sukuna questioned with a scoff, flicking one of the strands between his fingers. You grinned shyly, twirling your hair with sudden apprehension. 

“No, they’re…” That typical red hue flooded your cheeks again, and he was beginning to find the color synonymous with you in his mind. He raised a questioned brow at you, and you looked down at the counter. “They’re supposed to get you more tips, y’know?”

Something about that prospect unsettled something deep within the pits of his stomach. Not hiding the way his top lip twitched up in disgust, he glanced down at the ticket you handed him before getting to work. 

“And is it working?” 

“So far, so good, captain!” You beamed with a mock salute, bending over the counter to whisper your night’s total thus far into his ear. He whistled lowly, shaking his head in disbelief. His lips parted to make a snide remark about the kinds of creeps that frequented this restaurant, but he was cut off when one of the aforementioned creeps hollered out to you something alluding to your captain comment from earlier. Sukuna couldn’t hear it though-- not over the sound of the distinct smack of the man’s hand on your ass. You quickly straightened your posture, cursing yourself for remaining bent over in such a way to invite such unwanted behavior. 

Before you could turn your head to face the offender though, Sukuna’s intimidatingly large form was hopping over the bar with an ease you would have assumed impossible for someone so bulky. You yelped out in surprise when you were pushed back, watching in horror as the bartender grasped onto the back of the man’s shirt with vigor and dragged him out the front door. 

“Sukuna--”

“Stay here.” 

You had no choice but to comply with his barked order, because in an instant, a crowd had formed around the door to watch the incident with bated breath. Part of you wanted to push through the crowd to either see what the hell he was doing to the man, or to attempt to stop him before he got himself into trouble. A larger part of you, like most of the time when it came to this infuriatingly guarded man, wondered if you really even wanted to know. There wasn’t much time for you to ponder on this decision though, because just a short two minutes later, he was bursting through the front doors once again, shooing everyone back to their tables in aggravation. 

Without so much as a word, he walked back behind the bar and took a shocked customer’s order. You awaited as he finished the interaction, staring at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. As if sensing he could no longer ignore you, he looked back up at you nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just leaped over the very counter he was standing behind like a bat out of hell. 

“Asshole said he’s sorry, by the way.” Sukuna huffed out, clearing a few empty glasses from the bar. Looking down at his hands as he quietly gathered up cups, you noticed his red, split knuckles. 

“Sukuna…” You began, but you weren’t sure where it was going. One part of you was touched that he would stand up for you in such a way without hesitation. While you would have preferred he hadn’t gone to such… extreme measures though, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t found the whole thing, after the fact, extremely attractive. You shook your head quickly, dismissing those thoughts from your wandering mind. You were in a relationship, after all. In the midst of all the excitement though, you were beginning to draw your own, new, more informed conclusions about the bartender. “What was it that you said you did before this?”

He made you wait until he was on another smoke break to explain himself to you. You both sat, squatted on the ground of that back alley as he blew his smoke away from you, looking up at the flickering, fluorescent light above you two. 

“You… you were a hitman?” 

“C’mon, now you’re giving me too much credit, doll.” 

Your mind whirled with this new information, but, to be fair, you had already come to a similar conclusion just an hour prior when you watched him drag a full grown man out of the restaurant with ease. Chuckling half-heartedly at your wide eyed expression, he continued with a sigh. 

“I got paid to scare some dudes off. Didn’t kill nobody. Just… roughed ‘em up a little, y’know? Debt collectors, landlords, weirdo boyfriends. Paid good. Got Yuji through school.”

“Yuji?” You questioned, peering up at him curiously. Suddenly recalling your previous conversation about his reasons for being here, you continued. “Your nephew, right?”

He nodded firmly, a fond smile on his face. 

“His folks didn’t have the money to send him to college. I didn’t want him to end up like me. So… whatever paid the bills, know what I’m saying, doll?” His eyes shifted to peer at you with a sidelong glance. Even without direct contact, his eyes sent shivers down your spine. 

You nodded softly, a small smile gracing your own lips. 

“You're kind of a badass uncle, Sukuna.” You teased, playfully bumping your shoulder into his. His boisterous laughter bounced off the walls of the dark alley before he shook his head dismissively. “Pretty cool if you ask me.”

“What? Your man boring or something?”

For a moment, your mind short-curcuited again in the way Sukuna was so good at doing. You pondered his question for a moment, shyly looking down at your feet. 

“I mean, he’s no ass-beating vigilante if that’s what you’re wondering.” This made the man beside you chuckle at your perception of his past occupation. 

“How long ‘ya been together?”

“Seven years.” 

A low whistle echoed in your ears, and Sukuna snatched your left hand from its place on your knee to inspect your fingers. 

“No ring?” He scoffed, setting your hand back down with a smirk. “You seem like the type.” The joking nature in his tone helped to disguise the fact that he felt someone had just taken a knife to his testicles. When you told him you had a boyfriend, he figured it was a short thing, something that would pass eventually, and maybe he’d get a chance to swoop in soon. Seven years though? He was starting to feel as though he may have been holding out hope for nothing. 

“He’s finishing school first.” You defended deftly.

“Yeah? What’s he gettin’ his degree in? How to fumble 101?” 

You couldn’t even try to suppress the amused smile that fought its way onto your lips. The truth was, your relationship hadn’t been the same for a while now, and, by a while, you meant a few years. The two of you had been highschool sweethearts. So, when you graduated, it almost just seemed right to continue the still budding relationship. It was fairly textbook, graduating together, moving into your first, modest apartment with one another, but things quickly became very routine. 

It’s not that he was a bad guy per say, but sometimes you felt as though you were the only one trying to keep that spark alive. Granted, he was a busy man, what with his graduate program and internship taking up most of his time, but even on his free days, he was often either holed up in front of his computer or with his friends. The stress of all his responsibilities had definitely been catching up to him. When you tried to confront him about the way you barely even felt like friends anymore, let alone lovers, he was far too irritable to hold a conversation with about it. 

Sukuna watched you get lost in thought, and he wondered if he’d crossed a line. Throwing on a casual smile, he bumped your shoulder as you had just done to him. 

“Hey, all I’m sayin’ is if you get tired of waitin’, I’m next in line, ya’ hear?” Deep down though, he wasn’t joking, and you knew it too. Despite this, you chuckled along with him and shook your head. You stopped him with a hand around his large wrist as he moved to stand. 

“Thank you, by the way.” You said sincerely, being selfish in the way you allowed yourself to drink in the manner in which the dim lighting hit his dark features. He looked like he was crafted with a magical pick to cater specifically to each of your hidden desires. “For… roughing that guy up for me.”

For the first time, the smile that graced his lips wasn’t teasing, or sarcastic, it was genuine. It made him look far softer than his harsh appearance let on, and you wanted nothing more than for him to look at you with such care forever. Reaching up to grasp the back of your neck, you tensed a bit as he pulled you forward. His warm lips only pressed against your temple though, and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not. As he pulled away from you, he ruffled your hair. 

“Anything for my favorite girl. Now take your hair out those damn pigtails.”

Safe to say, you never tried that little tip-grabbing trick again. Well, except, you attempted it just once more. It was a week when your shifts had been slower than normal, so you were a little desperate. All it took was one pointed glare from your favorite bartender, and you were making a beeline to the bathroom to take them out. After the last week though, you didn’t have to worry about it so much since you finally began taking over some shifts as a bartender with your newfound training. 

Sukuna was right, the influx of tips you recieved as a bartender was incomparable to what you were pulling in on the floor. The only downside to this arrangement was that they never scheduled two bartenders at the same time, so you didn’t see your mentor as much as you once did. Maybe it was for the best though, because your sudden, schoolgirl crush on the man that you swore was just a workplace fantasy, was beginning to bleed into your own relationship. 

You found yourself comparing your boyfriend to him each chance you got. It wasn’t fair- you knew that- comparing him to a man he didn’t even know existed. So, you tried to bring it up to him. Of course, you didn’t bring up your incredibly attractive, overwhelmingly cool, and strong coworker who had made it very clear that he was into you. You did ask him if he could be a little more attentive when you would tell him about your day, leaving out the way Sukuna would completely ignore customers until you finished whatever story you were babbling to him about your current tables, his chin propped up on his fist in feigned boredom. In addition, you pleaded with him to take himself a little less seriously than he had been since beginning his internship, not mentioning the way Sukuna let you paint his nails black in the breakroom after you joked about how it would complete the edge-lord look he had going on. 

Each time though, you were shut down. Even more mortifyingly so, you had been branded as the ‘nagging girlfriend’, and although you tried desperately not to, you took it to heart. You were more hesitant with the manner in which you’d even ask what he wanted for dinner, worried he may snap back at you the way he’d done that night. It felt as though you were back in front of those difficult customers, too afraid to stand up for yourself and your expectations as you knew deep down you should have. 

So, when you walked into your shift that day, tying your apron around your waist since you’d picked up to work on the floor tonight after a desperate call from your manager, your breath hitched when you saw that familiar presence behind the bar. Biting back a smile lest you appear too excited, you moved to punch in. From across the room, he caught your eye, his bicep flexing as he maneuvered the shaker aggressively over his shoulder, and his movements faltered for just a second. It was long enough for you to notice though. His blinding white canines shone under the light as he flashed you a wolfish grin. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you went about your shift. It wasn’t until your third table that someone finally ordered a drink from the bar, and you had an excuse to make your way over. He was busy with another customer. The restaurant was fairly packed tonight, but you figured that much when your boss practically begged you to come in. Waiting patiently on the side, you noted with a fond smile that he still had that chipped, black polish on his nails from when you painted them about a week or two ago. 

“If it isn’t my replacement.” Sukuna tutted as he finally made his way over to you. He slid a shirley temple over to you, something he had begun doing every shift since your little hiccup behind the bar. Unable to hold back your grin, you popped the cherry still floating at the top between your teeth, humming in satisfaction. Leaning against the counter, he tilted his head at you in amusement. You didn’t miss the way he dragged his eyes down your face appreciatively. “Heard you’re becoming a fan favorite, doll. How’s that tuition fund coming along?”

“Piggy bank’s almost full, Kuna-Kuna.” You informed with a beam that had his hard heart melting. If he wasn’t so engrossed in the way you smiled so sweetly at him, he would have been just a tad bit mortified that anyone else would hear that nickname you had given him. Despite that, he didn’t have the heart to tell you to quit calling him that in front of people. “Even submitted my application last week.”

“Yeah?” He smiled proudly at you, drinking in the way you were looking at him like he put the stars in the sky. You nodded softly, taking a sip from your drink in hopes it would cool the heat rising in you. Leaning in closer to you as if he had a secret, he winked at you. “Shoulda told me earlier. Would’ve made it a dirty shirley.” 

You would be lying if you said your shifts didn’t flow a lot more smoothly when Sukuna was there with you. Whether it be the pick-me-up drinks mid shift, or the teasing banter each time you set down another ticket for him, he brought a blinding excitement to your days that were noticeably darker when he wasn’t around. Then again, he couldn’t stop all misfortunes from coming your way. 

You waved a quick goodbye to him and the remaining host as you punched out of your shift, a fond smile seemingly stuck permanently on your face as you got into your car that night. As you turned the key in the ignition, the car sputtered pathetically before turning back off. With furrowed brows, you attempted it again, only to get a shorter, more concerning response from your barely-hanging-on vehicle. Groaning softly, you banged your head gently against the wheel. A frightened gasp escaped you as you unintentionally honked the horn. Cursing under your breath, you sent a quick text to your boyfriend explaining your predicament. 

Talk about timing :( You okay to call an Uber? I’ve got an exam tomorrow I’m in the middle of cramming for. 

A small lump began to form in the back of your throat as you read his message. Realistically speaking, there was no problem with you calling an Uber to come get you, but, in combination with all the rest of the shortcomings that have been popping up in your lackluster relationship as of late, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the dread of it all. You thought about what your future might look like, and what you wanted so desperately for it to look like. A tear slipped down your cheek, and you suddenly felt as though you were mourning the loss of how your highschool self envisioned yourself-- your relationship, your self worth. 

A sharp rap on your window had you gasping out in between your quiet sobs. Looking up, Sukuna’s large head was peering in through your window, his eyebrows pulled together in a way that made him look absolutely terrifying. You shook your head at him, waving dimissively as you tried to quickly wipe your tear-stained cheeks. His expression deadpanned, and he only knocked again, more purposefully this time. Sighing in exasperation, you hesitantly rolled your window down. 

“The fuck are you crying for?” He asked before the window was even all the way down. Your abrupt change in mood almost gave him whiplash, seeing as you were all sunshines and roses as you closed the restaurant alongside him just a few minutes ago. 

“Nothing--”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me.”

You dropped your head into your hands, another sob forcing its way up and out your throat. Sniffling pathetically, you mumbled into your palms. 

“My car won’t start.”

It was silent for a beat as he assessed the situation with an exasperated expression. He wasn’t buying it. 

“Your car won’t start…” he questioned as if asking if he was following along correctly, to which you nodded, still unable to face him. “So you’re boo-hoo crying in the parking lot?” You hummed in agreement to his words, not caring how pathetic it made you sound. Anything as long as you didn’t have to explain the shambles your relationship was currently in. “Your man can come get you though, right? Not the end of the world, doll.” 

Your silence made him lean in closer, prying your hands from your soaked face. Now forced to face him, there was a look of defeat on your broken face that made him want to beat your boyfriend’s ass to a stone-cold pulp. 

“He’s… he’s got a big test tomorrow.”

He tried to bite back his irritation at your poor attempt at an excuse, but he couldn’t help the way he sucked his teeth and took an extentive breath out to calm his temper. Casting a forlorn glance to the side before taking one more look at your once sweet face littered with pain, he reached in to unlock the door and then swung it open. 

“C’mon,” Sukuna urged as gently as he could, grabbing your arm to help you out of the car as you stared at him in question. “I’m taking your sorry ass home.” 

“No, Sukuna, I’m ordering an Uber. It’s--”

“Like hell you are, it’s almost midnight. Let’s go.”

Before you could protest further, your car door was being shut behind you, and he was walking you toward his bike. Turning toward you, he wiped at your tears haphazardly before placing his bulky helmet over your head. 

“What about you?” You questioned with a still shaking voice as you watched him mount the bike with no protection. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’m already dumb as rocks. Gotta protect that brain of yours so you can get into your program, yeah?”

You were grateful for the heavy contraption covering your head so he didn’t see the small smile that sliced through your previously pitiful expression. He nodded for you to get on. Grasping his shoulder for support, you carefully slid on behind him. The warmth of his back set you ablaze as your body slid forward to meet his. You nervously wiped the palms of your hands on your jeans as he started the motorcycle, the roar of the machine rumbling in your sensitive ears. 

His head tilted back to look at you with a raised brow. Pink hair rippled gracefully in the wind in the most picturesque way as he smirked at you. 

“You gonna hang on, or should I let you fly off as soon as this thing takes off?”

With a thick gulp, you leaned forward in an attempt to grasp at his hips in a way that could ensure you maintain your composure throughout the ride. He tutted softly, grabbing your wrists and wrapping your arms firmly around his waist, shoving your cold hands into the pockets of his jacket. As he took off, the rumbling of the bike beneath you did nothing to help your flustered state. Against your frigid fingers, you could feel the taut muscles of his prominent abs flexing as he leaned forward on the motorcycle. 

It took everything in him to concentrate on the road before him. As he felt your small fingers timidly exploring the expanse of his abdomen in a way you surely thought was subtle, the task at hand was proving increasingly difficult. And yeah, maybe he did speed up just a little bit to feel you tighten your arms around him. God, he could have moaned at the feeling. Some primal urge deep within him wanted to pull this bike over and tell you that you didn’t have to act so shy, he’d let you touch him anywhere your pretty little heart desired. What he’d give to have you explore all of him with those small, timid hands of yours.  

Sukuna had to clear his throat as he rolled up in front of your apartment complex. For a minute, you both just sat there, allowing each other to be so close for just a minute longer. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding against his back. In the end, you were the first to pull away, wrangling the heavy helmet off your head. As you did this, he maneuvered off the bike with ease, only to grasp his large hands over your waist to lift you off and onto the ground. Unnecessary, but a little showing off never hurt anyone, right? 

“Thank you, Kuna, really.” You mumbled as he took the helmet from your hands and settled it on the bike. You were peering up at him through your lashes, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were begging him to kiss you. Hell, maybe you were, but he knew deep down that’s not a line you would be able to live with yourself if you crossed. Still, you reached up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. It took everything in him not to lift you up and just take you home with him right then. So, he swallowed the feeling of sand running down his throat and opted to press a soft, safe kiss against your temple. 

As you reluctantly pulled away from the now overly familiar and comforting scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smoke that clung to him, you smiled softly as you began walking away. You turned upon hearing footsteps behind you, following you. 

“What… are you doing?”

“I’m taking you up to your apartment, the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” He stated obviously. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t…” Your words drifted upon seeing the challenging look that settled over his face. Picking anxiously at your fingernails, you found it within you to continue. “It’s just-- I don’t want my…”

“You don’t want your boyfriend to see that someone else took his girlfriend home since he apparently had something better to do?” Sukuna guessed, that familiar irritation creeping up in his chest, and he had to tell himself to cool it. You could only nod dumbly. “Yeah? Well I ain’t fucking scared of him. I’m walking ya’ to your damn apartment.”

With the finality in his tone, you had no choice but to allow him to trail menacingly behind you all the way up to your apartment door. The blood was rushing in your ears with anxiety, and you hoped he couldn’t see the way your hands shook as you unlocked the door. Sukuna stood in the hallway outside, but that didn’t prevent your boyfriend, who was sat on the edge of the couch alongside his friends with a card game sprawled out on the table, from seeing the intimidatingly large, tatted up man who’d just seemingly dropped off his girlfriend through the crack of the door. His brows furrowed at the sight, his imagination running a mile a minute, and he slowly stood up from the couch. 

God, in all his years being paid to rock the shit out of some seriously sketch people, Sukuna had never wanted to knock the teeth out of someone so badly. The dude was approaching the door as if he was really going to try something, and the bartender almost actually laughed at the thought of him trying. Before he had the chance to get questioned by your pussy-ass looking boyfriend, you had quickly shut the door in his face after muttering one last thank you. 

You sighed shakily as you locked the apartment door. Without the looming threat of Sukuna causing a scene about what had transpired that night, you were able to take in the sight before you. His friends, the card game, the drinks surrounding them. Your brows furrowed. 

“Who was that guy?” You heard your boyfriend question skeptically, but you were shaking your head in disbelief. Ignoring him all together, along with his friends that waved to you in greeting, you pushed past him to get to your shared room. “Hey!”

You attempted to shut the door in his face, just wanting to be alone for the night to process that your boyfriend just ditched you to play cards with his friends, and, worst of all, he lied to you about it. The door quietly shut behind him as he slid into the room, that suspicious look still everpresent on his face as if you were the guilty one here. 

“Babe, who was that guy out there?” He asked again. His voice was level, but you could hear those undertones of fierce defensiveness-- the kind you hated feeding into. You wanted to brush him off, tell him he was just a coworker of yours, and that he should get back to his friends who were waiting for him. In the back of your head though, you could hear Sukuna’s gravelly voice.

Assholes like that only shit on you so much cause you let ‘em

That night, for the first time in your seven year relationship, you let your boyfriend have it. You stood up for yourself, and you confronted him about lying to you, about not being decent enough to come make sure his girlfriend was okay when her car broke down in the middle of the night, about how you’ve turned into someone he only seems to be annoyed with. It was the first and last time you had ever stood up to him. When you came to work the next afternoon, you were almost an hour late, but you had two duffel bags worth of your things in the back of your Uber. 

As you pushed in through the double doors, you kept your head down as you made your way to the break room to drop off your bags. You heard your name being called, but you couldn’t face him right now. It was too embarrassing, the thought of having to tell him it didn’t work out after defending him for months. Your feigned ignorance to the call of your name didn’t stop Sukuna from bursting into the break room just seconds after you, watching incredulously as you hauled in two big ass bags.

“What the hell happened to you?” He questioned, grabbing the two, large duffel bags from your shoulders and setting them carefully on the ground. “Fuck, I almost clocked out and went over there myself.”

His irritated rambling only ceased upon seeing your swollen eyes and red cheeks. You didn’t have to say it, he already knew. Already feeling guilty for having raised his voice to you in such a state, he pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms tightly around your small frame. Sobs wracked your body, but he thought maybe if he held you tight enough he could squeeze all the tears out for you. Your arms hung limply at your sides as you pressed your face pathetically into his chest once more before pushing him away. 

You shook your head, frantically wiping your face and attempting to fix your hair. His red eyes were still intently on you, waiting with bated breath for you to either tell him what happened or snap, whichever came first. Slowly sinking down into one of the chairs, you brought your knees up to your chest. 

“You were right, Kuna.” You cried out with a bitter smile, unable to look him in the eyes. “He only walked all over me ‘cause I was letting him. I’m not gonna let him do it again, alright?”

“The fuck did that asshole do to ya’?” Sukuna snatched a chair out to face you before settling down with his chest pressed against the back of it. Your eyes drifted to the side, and he felt his jaw click with how roughly he was grinding his teeth together. “Huh?”

“He…” Your bottom lip trembled again, but this time it was out of sheer embarrassment from what you were about to tell him. “He asked me if you were the reason I had been questioning our relationship.”

That caught the usually quick-witted bartender off guard. He didn’t even know that you had been questioning your relationship. Had he been the reason for it? He couldn’t help the thoughts that began racing in his mind. 

“What’d you tell him?” It was all he could muster out, watching you with bated breath. 

“I told him to fuck off.” Through your blubbering tears, you managed to laugh, and Sukuna felt himself smiling along with you, a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest at the thought of the once timid girl finally growing a backbone. “Just like you taught me, Kuna.”

Abandoning any thoughts of fleeting hope that maybe your possible attraction to him was the straw that broke the back of your already straining relationship, he reached out to ruffle your hair. 

“That’s my girl.” He quipped, now working to smooth your hair down for you. His teeth caught on his bottom lip as he tried to suppress his next question, but he just had to know. “Did he cry?”

“Sukuna!” You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his eager question. Sniffling back your tears, you shoved at his hands and fixed your face before standing up. “Maybe.”

A victorious, villainous sounding cackle fell from his lips, and he high fived you. 

“Fuck yeah, he did. C’mon, heartbreaker, I’ll make you a dirty shirley to get you through your shift.”

It was definitely one of the harder shifts that you had had to brave through, but Sukuna was there each time you needed to take a breather. Hell, he had even gone as far as to run most of your drinks for you despite your boss’s demands for him to stay behind the damn bar for once. It only took one pointed glare from the bartender to straighten that situation out quicker than it had started. 

Still, no matter how many marashcino cherries he snuck over to you during your shift, or however many time he pulled you out back for a smoke break when he could tell you were about to lose it, the end of your shift was drawing near, and you were about to be faced with the reality of your decision once again. 

“Your car still acting up, doll? Need a ride?” Sukuna’s cool voice questioned from the bar as you got done wiping down your final table. You sighed, turning to lean against the now squeaky clean table. 

“No, I’m gonna stay with a friend. She lives kind of far out, so I’ll just take an Uber and call a mechanic to come take a look at that piece of crap in the morning.”

“How far out? You ain’t on the schedule for tomorrow?” He asked, walking back with you to pick up your bags from the break room. You watched him tuck his helmet under his arm in addition to your hefty bags. 

“About an hour or so. It’s alright, I just have to leave a little earlier than usual. Living the dream, am I right?” 

You heard his tut softly, and his steps out of the break room halted. 

“That’s bullshit, come stay with me.”

In an instant, your face flushed at the implications, and you were quickly shaking your head at him with a scoff. Sure, you would be lying if you said you weren’t extremely attracted to the man. Getting yourself into a situation that sticky only a day after exiting a seven year relationship though? A situation in which you’d be depending on said attractive man for the roof over your head? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

“C’mon, I’ve got an efficiency that the brat uses when he comes to visit. Nice little kitchen and everything. You’d have your own space. It’s just sitting there, don’t be so proud.”

It wasn’t your pride getting in the way though. It was the fact that this man had made it very clear on multiple occasions that he was ‘next in line’ should your relationship fail. You weren’t sure accepting a room with those kinds of conditions was the best idea for you at this point. 

“Sukuna…” You murmured, kicking a scuff of dirt off your shoe just so you didn’t have to look at him as you explained yourself. “I… I need some time. Thank you for being so nice to me and all, but… I’m just not ready for--”

“Jesus, I’m not tryna cash in your ass for rent, doll.” He explained, and there was almost an underlying tone of offense in his usually cool voice. Although, even he had to admit that he couldn’t blame you for assuming such a thing-- what with the way he flirted relentlessly with you, but that was more so just to be able to see the way you blushed for him. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Look, you can take the efficiency, and you won’t even have to see my dumbass if you don’t wanna. Separate door and everything. I’m not asking you for anything in return, just wanna make your life a little easier till you get back on your feet.”

It did sound like a romantic enough offer, you thought as you chewed on your lip pensively. Additionally, it wasn’t as if he’d ever advanced on you inappropriately, and he always turned it down a notch if he noticed his teasing was making you uncomfortable. After all, you could always reach out to your friend should things go south.

“No conditions?” You questioned apprehensively. 

“Eh, might make you take some of my weekend shifts to make it up to me.”

An amused smile fought its way onto your lips despite yourself. You were disciplined enough to live with your extremely attractive, fit, and funny co-worker right after a bad breakup, right?

Wrong. You were not disciplined enough. It had been three days since you moved into the small efficiency at Sukuna’s modest home. You figured his little gig as a makeshift hitman must have paid him a decent amount to be able to afford a house on his own, but you weren’t gonna ask any questions. The space he offered you was neat, neater than you’d expected when he said his teenage nephew had been living there. There were photos hung up in the tiny living area, and you were shocked to see what looked to be a spitting image of the bartender, save for all the piercings and tattoos of course, beaming brightly at the camera alongside his larger, more brooding counterpart. 

Sukuna meant it when he said you didn’t have to see him if you didn’t want to. You hadn’t heard so much as a peep from your neighbor except for when he’d offered to carpool with you to work. Even then, he would wait outside the front door for you, never once stepping into your space. You were grateful, you seriously, seriously were. Still, the thought of him being just a wall away from you every night was driving you a little bit crazy, and you were beginning to feel a bit like a freeloader. 

So, that Sunday morning when the restaurant was closed, you got yourself up bright and early and began cooking. Waffles, eggs, bacon-- the whole nine yards. Once you were satisfied with your spread, you packed everything up and tried to appear confident when you knocked on his door. You waited. One minute. Two minutes. Was he even home? You peered out and saw his bike still parked out front, a large, black tarp covering it. When you turned back to the door, it was abruptly swinging open. 

Oh, right. Sukuna mentioned something about taking the bartending position to get out of working mornings. You were reminded of that little fact as you took in his dishevled appearance. His pink hair was messily strewn out in every which direction, complemented by the way his eyes squinted down at you to adjust to the light. The only thing he currently donned was a pair of baggy, black sweatpants that clung dangerously low on his hips. Your previous assumption had been correct; those intricate little tattoos did cover his entire body, most notable being the two that accentuated his already defined v-line. 

“Oh… I’m sorry. I just--”

“That for me?” He asked brashly, pointing lazily to the three tupperware containers stacked haphazardly in your arms. You could only nod, afraid of making more of an idiot of yourself than you already had. A rough grunt slipped past his lips, and he opened the door to let you in. “You coming in or what?”

You really had just intended to drop off breakfast for him, say your thanks, and leave, but this worked too. His space was neat, a little lifeless in your opinion, but what could you expect from a guy like Sukuna? Unlike the little efficiency you had settled into, there weren’t any photos hung around anywhere for you to pry into. As he set the tupperware down on the table and moved to grab some plates, you looked around his tidy kitchen. Hung on the fridge with a plain looking magnet was a letter of acceptance into a local university. Upon closer inspection, you noticed his nephew’s name on it. Jesus, he was making it really hard to not swoon. 

As you two shared your homemade breakfast on his small dining nook, he asked you about how you had been holding up, and you were honest with him. It was definitely an adjustment, but you felt as though you had been mentally checked out of the relationship for some time, and maybe that was why you felt a little more put together about it than you probably should have. Despite this, you told him how the hardest part was not having that person around that you always felt comfortable telling everything to. You couldn’t gauge what the look on his face meant upon hearing this confession. 

“You know… I got an email on Friday.” You began, deciding you needed something to break the sudden tension between you two. He hummed in question as he moved to clean your now dirty dishes in the sink. Your fingertips grasped the counter top in anticipation, and part of you questioned if he would be as excited as you were. “I got into the program.”

The dish he was holding dropped into the sink with a concerning clatter, and he spun around to meet your gaze. 

“No shit?” Sukuna gasped in disbelief, suddenly appearing more awake and alert than he had in the past hour. Grasping at your shoulders, he smiled excitedly down at you. “No shit! Why am I just hearing the damn news now?” 

You squealed in surprise as he lifted you up into a bear hug. His bare skin was warm against yours, and you took advantage of the proximity to trace your finger curiously down the tattoo on his neck. With a breathless laugh, you hoped he couldn’t feel your face heating up. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly in the celebrating mood three days ago if you can recall, Kuna…”

“Right, right,” He groaned, setting you down atop the counter so he could look you in the eye. His gaze was glimmering with pride, and you found yourself once again seriously questioning what dimension this man had fallen from. “So, what now? You gonna quit your job? Is it close by?”

“No, it’s local. I’ll probably see if they can keep me on part-time at least. Can’t leave my favorite bartender behind, can I?” Your voice was soft as you stared down at your lap shyly. With your gaze turned away from him, you missed the way his eyes softened at your words. 

Throughout the past few days, Sukuna wanted nothing more than to pound on your door to check in on you, but he knew these next few weeks would be sensitive for you. He didn’t want to cross that line-- make you regret agreeing to stay with him. Your story stuck in his mind every night though, what your asshole boyfriend had asked you just before you left him. As you sat in front of him, eyes shyly cast down and talking so sweet to him in that way you were so good at, he felt his resolve slipping. 

“Can I ask you a question, doll? And you don’t gotta answer it if you don’t wanna.”

This made you peer up at him in question, not anticipating how close he’d be when you did. You nodded with an inviting smile, almost scared of what he was about to say. 

“That asshole… he asked if you were questioning things with him ‘cause of me.” Sukuna began, and he watched the knowing look fall upon your face. It was too late now though. Leaning a hand against the counter, he tilted his head sincerely at you. “Was it? ‘Cause of me?”

The thinning barrier between friends and more was disappearing right before your eyes, and you found it increasingly difficult to tear your eyes away from his. They captured you with a fierce presence, begging you to prove him right, to let him know it wasn’t just him. Your entire mind was being clouded by Sukuna-- his eyes, his scent, his aggressive dominance that demanded to be felt. So, against your better judgement, you inched forward. 

“If I said it was… what would you do?” You questioned, your voice just above a whisper. His heart leaped into his throat. Something switched in his expression in just a second, and it almost darkened as he regarded you intensely. The hand he held beside you twitched, threatening to graze against the plush flesh of your thighs that spilled out from your pajama shorts. 

“Nothing unless you asked me to.”

“And… if I asked you to?

You felt it then, his rough fingers creeping up to grip your thigh. A small gasp escaped your lips, and he watched the motion with a smirk. Leaning in until his lips brushed dangerously against the shell of your ear, he whispered lowly. 

“I’d reach places in you that lowlife didn’t even know existed.”

No matter how badly you wanted to reach out to grasp at his tattooed shoulder for support, your hands seemed to remain superglued to your lap. Still, as your chest heaved softly, you could feel his firm pecs graze against your breasts teasingly. The proximity, the teasing, the anticipation-- it was damn near making you lightheaded. 

“Sukuna?” You whispered, and he hummed in question. “Please… please, touch me.”

As his hand dove into the front of your frilly shorts, and you gasped so sweetly into his ear, Sukuna made a mental note to thank his brat ass nephew for telling him to stay out of trouble while he was gone. 

masterlist.

[unforth]

Alright not to like liveblog my breakdown on main but yesterday was a really bad day after a really bad, like, 4 months, and I've hit a bit of a breaking point and one of the only things in my life that can give is running @mdzsartreblogs , @tgcfartreblogs , @svsssartreblogs , @erhaartreblogs , @tykartreblogs , and @cnovelartreblogs , so that is what has to give. It's been a 99-out-of-100 days thankless job. A small number of people do say thank you and yall I appreciate you so much (HUGE shout-out to the artist I met at Flamecon who gifted me a zine when I said I ran these blogs, @bonesblubs you rock) but I have never done an act of fandom labor simultaneously this labor intensive yet this invisible before and, uh. It sucks. I spend an hour or more a day on this every day, if it's under 2k hours since I started the first of these in September 2020 I'd be shocked. And I do it because I love it but doing it means I don't have time or energy to do other things I love. And I really don't want to just quit, but I can't keep this up.

In a last-ditch effort to try not to just give up, I'm making the following changes:

1. Only watching one tag per fandom for the MXTX fandoms. I am going to check *only* #tgcf, #svsss, and #mdzs. Artwork posted to any other tag, I will not see unless a mutual reblogs it.

2. Reduced tagging (even more). I'm only going to tag characters and maybe overarching au type (eg, "modern au," "fantasy au"). I'll no longer tag creatures. I will continue to tag the same common trigger warnings I already tag.

3. If a work's appearance doesn't make it obvious what it is AND the tags aren't clear, I'm not going to reblog. I can't keep spending 5 minutes or more trying to figure out what I'm even looking at, scared that if I guess wrong the artist will get mad at me for mistagging their work. If I do reblog, I'll tag only the artist name and/or whatever else I can identify for sure.

4. I am no longer going to follow #link click. The fandom is just too big. I've started dreading checking it. If I was more into it and less busy I would make another spin off just for it but neither of those is true. (The art is so good, I hate to do this, but. If you love link click, highly recommend the main tag, lots of great stuff there.)

5. I will no longer tag any non-cnovel content in the art/post. Like, if someone draws, idek, Xie Lian and Marinette from Ladybug, I'm not gonna put any tags for Marinette, just for Xie Lian.

6. Basically if I run into something hard to tag or confusing or unclear, my new policy is I'm not gonna fricken bother.

I think those are everything but idefk, I cried for 3 hours last night and got 4 hours of sleep so I'm mostly fueled by exhaustion and desperation right now and my memory is even more fried than usual.

How artists can help. This is obviously all optional. You do you. But since some people might want to know what would make my life easier, I'm sharing. I'm not claiming I feel entitled to dictate how people fandom or anything like that.

1. Put the tags for the character(s) and ship(s) early in the tag list.

2. If you make art for a fandom that isn't one of the big ones (right now the only big danmei fandoms on tumblr as far as I can tell are the MXTX fandoms and maybe 2ha) I am begging you to use my tracked tag #cnovelartreblogs

3. Do mdzs art? Tag #mdzs. Do tgcf art? Tag #tgcf. Do svsss art? Tag #svsss.

4. Not only artists, but everyone, *please* stop tagging fandoms not discussed and/or depicted in your post. It's gotten to be stupid common for people to blanket the danmei fandom tags with posts only about one fandon (like, svsss-only works also being tagged mdzs and tgcf and 2ha for some damn reason). This isn't about just my sideblogs tbh this is just fandom etiquette that seems to have been forgotten or never learned by many. Tagging unrelated fandoms isn't "reach," it's annoying. People go into the #mdzs tag to see mdzs, not whatever not-mdzs stuff people have decided to tag for ~reach~, and seeing the same post in 8 tags, none of which it's related to, is so damn irritating, and makes scrolling the tags looking for content that IS relevant take that much longer. Knock it off.

Okay. I think that's as much as I'm prepared to meltdown where everyone can see. Thanks in advance everyone for your understanding, and apologies to everyone about to see this 8 times as I reblog it to each sideblog.

At least I'm not tagging it to everywhere. 🤣🤣🤣

[adams-angels]

Hello dear writer! Whenever you have time would you consider doing a fluff and maybe smut piece about how Adam would be on a restaurant date? I’m so curious how he would act since they didn’t have dates when he was alive a trillion billion million years ago.

And Valentine’s Day has me way up in the feels 🥹

Thank you bebe 🩵

A bit late for Valentine's day but better late than never babes 😎 this was longer than I was expecting 🫢

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Valentines

It's been a while since Adams been on a "date" if you could even call it that. The last "date" he had was with Eve in the Garden of Eden. So... Yeah. A while might be an understatement. He also hated the day. Like many holidays. Why should SaInT vAlEnTiNe get a whole holiday after him?! Adam is the ORIGINAL dick. If anything there should be a holiday celebrated for HIM. But, whatever. You were into it. And he was into you.

He was so nervous when he asked you out for Valentine's day. He waited until last minute before finally getting the courage to ask. Ten o'clock at night he frantically knocked at your door. You hurried to answer, the panic filled your body at the knocking. It was desperate, like someone needed help. When you opened the door and saw a panting Adam you were confused. Was he hurt? Before you could say anything he put his hand up to your face signaling you to not speak as he caught his breath. It was odd why he was out of breath. He flies everywhere. Did he run? "Be- huff- will you- jesus, fuck- pant-" his hand were on his knees as he choked on his breath. "Ada-" hand in your face. Rude. He straightened himself out, at least as much as he could in the small apartment hallway. The apartment was made for smaller Winners not 8 foot Giants like Adam. "Be my Valentine?" He panted out. Of course you said yes! What can you say? You've been crushing on him for, like, ever! You never picked up that he likes you back. Even though he was never subtle. "Cool- pant- text you the deetz." He shot you some finger guns before leaving.

So now it's Valentine's day! 💘 Cupid's shot his arrow and hit you. You're feeling fun, flirty, and feisty. You put on your cutest outfit and checked yourself in the mirror. Is cute what you're going for? It's your first date. But it is Valentine's day. You don't wanna be prudish. You change into something a bit more revealing and again checked yourself. This might be a bit too sexy.. slutty even! You don't want to give the impression that you put out of the first day! Even if you do. No. This needs to be perfect. You think to yourself... "I bet Adam isn't having this much trouble."

You weren't wrong. Adam was much more relaxed. Too relaxed. Why would he be nervous? He's the man. In fact he was out right now looking at new guitars. When he left the store he saw Valentine, surrounded by his Cupid's. "Augh." Adam grunted, not wanting to interact with the Saint. "Adam!" Shit. "A little birdy told me you've got a Valentine's this year. It's been what? Centuries?" Valentine laughed. Adam rolled his eyes, then glared at him. "Yeah? So what? I figured it's a good way to get free pussy." Adam shrugged as a cocky grin formed on his face. The Cupid angels surrounding Saint Valentine cringed. "Oh, Adam. Come now! This is a holiday of love and romance. Not cheap pickups!" The man placed a hand on Adam shoulder which he immediately shrugged off. "So, are you going anywhere special? Have you bought the lucky angel flowers? Chocolates? A gift of adoration?" "Uh.. what?" "You haven't bought them anything have you?" The man laughed, putting his hand on Adams shoulder again pulling Adam closer. "Good luck getting fucked, playboy." He hissed with a wicked smirk. Valentine released Adams shoulder laughing. "Happy Valentine's days!" He said before flying away with his cupids. "Motherfucker!" Adam's flew off to the nearest store to get you some flowers.

When he arrived the flower section was bare. Maybe one half dead rose. "What the hell?" He flew all over the store looking for anything Valentines related. "No, no, no!" He stopped in one of the aisles before finding worker. "Hey! Where the fuck is the stuff?" "S-stuff, sir?" Adam gestures around the store. "You know! The fucking Valentines shit! Where is it?!" The poor retail worker fretted telling him there was nothing left. "V-valentines day is o-one of the most popular days of the year sir... There's nothing left.." "NOTHING LEFT?!?!" Adam yelled. His voice booming around the store causing shelfs to shake knocking almost everything off. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN NOTHING LEFT?! I NEED SOMETHING FOR TONIGHT!!!" "I - I'm sorry, sir!" The poor angels voice shuddered. Adam groaned, balling his hands into fists. He was about to leave before he noticed a bottle of soda that hadn't fallen. He pushed it off the shelf for good measure before storming out of the store.

He wasn't going to spend all day looking for shit of this shitty holiday. He hated it. This was dumb! He's gift enough. Still, he takes his phone and texts Lute

"URGENT! flowers! Plz get 4 me thx dngrtits"

That'll do. He heads home to get ready for your date.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

The time comes and Adam is waiting outside of your apartment building, he's not walking up all those stairs again. He was feeling cool. Calm. Collected. Until he saw you. His hands started getting clammy, his heat racing. You look so pretty. You of course found the prefect in-between of cute and sexy for your outfit. "Heeey, you could of made an effort." He joked. You frowned. You thought you did well. He clears his throat. "Let's go." He wiped his hands on his robe before taking flight with you following after.

You both arrived at the restaurant. Neither of you stop on the way. It was awkward. He walked in first, he didn't hold the door open for you. Rude. Once inside you noticed the restaurant was jam packed. Adam also noticed this and froze. "Good thing you booked, right?" You said, playfully, hoping to break some tension. "Uh... Yeah... Wait here, surgartits." He walked over to the host. "I need a table for two." The host scoffed. "Yeah, sure. We've got one available tomorrow." Adam was fuming. This was all going wrong. This can't go wrong. "Do you fucking know who I am?!" He raised his voice. "I'm fucking ADAM! I'm the fucking man! And I want a damn table!" You walk over. "Adam?" "What, bitch!? Fuck! Can't you see I'm busy?! I'm getting us a table!" He yelled at you. No. Nope. You're too good to be yelled at. This was meant to be fun. Fuck this. You put your hands in the air. "Nope. I'm out." You turn on your heels and exit the restaurant. "Wait- no, y/n." He looks as you exit then back at the host. "I'll ruin your fucking life, cunt." He hissed before flying out of the restaurant.

He looks around and you were no where to be seen. "Fast fucker. AUGH!!!" He stomped his foot covering his face with his hands. If he wasn't wearing his mask he'd be pulling his hair.

You got yourself home. Fucking shit day. Dumb idea. You don't even know why he asked you. The whole thing was dumb. Everything about it was dumb. You collapse onto the couch, sulking. It doesn't take long before there's a knock at the door. Adam you suspect. You roll your eyes before peeling yourself off the couch. Opening the door you see Lute. Huh. "Uh.. hi?" "Adam requests your presents. Put on this blind fold." She hands you a blindfold. "What?" She didn't repeat herself. She never does. You groan, knowing she won't leave until you do it so whatever. You put the blindfold on and lute takes your wrist and flies off with you ragdolling.

Once your feet touch the ground she lets go of your wrist. Leaving you there blindfolded. "Uh.. you can take that off now." You do, to see a candle lit picnic layed out. It was adorable, there were fairy lights on the trees. Adam stood there, awkwardly, with a bunch of your favourite flowers. How did he know? Lute. "Uh. Surprise.." he handed you the flowers. "Sorry, about the restaurant. Fucking idiots double booked or something.. I don't know." He shrugged. You know it wasn't true. He didn't book, you know that. But you smiled. "Thank you, Adam. This is much nicer." He smiled and stretched. "Well, what can I say? I know what I'm doing."

You sat on the blanket, Adam did also and popped open a bottle of champagne. "I got the good stuff." You smile at the gesture although you always thought champagne tasted disgusting. He got all the good stuff, strawberries and chocolates. Cheese board. Cute little cakes. "This is all very well thought out. How did you get this so quickly?" You asked. He shrugged with a smirk. "I'm just that good, babe." Lute. This was more his style anyway. Outside, under the stars. It reminded him of the Garden.

"so, this was fun." He rubbed the palm of his hands on his knees. "I'd much rather not do this Valentine's bullshit though. Maybe next time we can just... Do it whenever?" "I'd like that. Although, this Valentine's day has turned out pretty perfect." You smile. "Well. I am perfect so." He smirks at you. You don't want to stroke his ego anymore than you already have. You roll your eyes before quickly giving him a peck on the lips. "you're alright, I suppose." You took his sweaty hand in yours and led down, he followed. You both watched the stars in silence. He'd gently squeeze your hand every now and then, you'd squeeze back.

"Happy valentine's, Y/N."

"Happy valentine's, Adam."

[marvelfanfics1]

Heard that you've been wanting for someone to send you brother!rafe, guess it's my time to shine

So brother!rafe has to babysit toddler!reader since their parents are out for the night and well basically he looks after her, feeding her and tucking her to bed <33

Or even, toddler!reader has a nightmare and won't go back to sleep so she finds comfort in her brother!rafe's room!!

Not So Annoying After All

Pairing: brother!rafe cameron x toddler!sister!reader

Warnings: some cussing (I mean it's rafe), nightmare, rafe being soft for his baby sister, just tooth-rotting fluff

A/n: why not do both!!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"Dad, seriously? Can't Sarah look after her?" Rafe groans. He just received the news he has babysitting duties this afternoon because his dad and Rose are going out after weeks of planning to have one night for themselves.

"No, she's with that Routledge boy and Wheezie is sleeping over at a friend's. I'm not asking much from you. Just keep an eye on her, give her dinner, and tuck her into bed. Alright?" Ward looks at him sternly, holding you on his hip and trying to keep ahold of you as you're trying to reach out for Rafe with grabby hands.

"Ugh, fine. I'll watch the little gremlin." He reluctantly agrees, reaching out to grab you under your armpits, hoisting you onto his hip and trying not to smile at the way you snuggle into him.

Ward thanks him, looking at his watch. "Okay, I don't know when we'll be back. Call me when something's wrong."

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun, I guess." He mutters, turning around and making his way to his room with you. He sets you down on his bed, looking down at you with his hands on his hips. "So...what do you do for fun?"

"Tea party!" You squeal but Rafe shakes his head immediately.

"Nah, no way I'm doin' that. Pick something else."

You think for a moment before replying. "I wike coloring."

"Okay, that's something I can work with." He helps you down from his bed, placing his hand on your head to steer you towards his door and to the stairs.

As he starts descending them he stops when he hears you whine, turning back to see you hesitating to set your foot on the first step. With a sigh he jogs back up, scooping you up. "Damn, the stairs are not gonna eat you y'know?"

He carries you into the living room, setting you back onto the ground and watching as you waddle over to the couch table, plopping down on the ground and trying to pull out the small drawer that had your coloring supplies in it but seem to struggle a little.

He walks over to you, squatting down and helping you with the drawer before standing back up straight. "I'll go to the kitchen real quick, stay here and- just don't do anything stupid."

In the kitchen her grabs your sippy from the cupboard, filling it with some apple juice, grabbing the package of those silly animal crackers you can't seem to get bored of.

Rafe joins you again, sitting down on the couch he places the sippy and crackers close to you, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I could be out drinking with Topper and Kelce right now..."

You ignore his complaints, holding a crayon out for him.

"Nah, I'm good." He says but you just keep holding the crayon out repeatedly. Reluctantly he groans and grabs the crayon from your small hand, scooting closer to the edge of the couch as you place a blank sheet of paper in front of him.

After coloring for a while you giggle, holding up the picture for him to see. He tilts his head a little, figuring out the two messily drawn stick figures who are probably supposed to hold hands. "Who's that supposed to be? You and dad?"

You shake your head with a frown. "Is us Rafey! Wook, this me and this you." You point out the two figures, holding the sheet up to his face again.

Rafe needs a moment to comprehend what you just said. You made a picture including him? You mostly draw about animals or whatever you currently like, for example that Bluey show you watch like- every day. He didn't expect you to draw you both together.

"Uh, that's- that's nice. You're a real artist huh?" He ruffles your hair a little, taking the picture from your outstretched hands. "Can I keep this?"

You nod quickly, smiling brightly. He smiles back at you, folding it and putting it in his pocket, looking at his watch.

"Alright, time for dinner. After that y'gonna take a bath and then go to bed. No whining and shit." He says and grabs the remote from the table, turning on the tv. "You can watch your show while I fix you up some dinner."

You clap with excitement as soon as you hear the familiar intro of Bluey, climbing onto the couch, your coloring completely forgotten.

Rafe decides on some chicken nuggets, easy and quick. He lets you eat in the living room, knowing you usually weren't allowed to eat on the couch and uses that to make you favorite him more than you already do.

It does trigger him a little the way your hands are full of ketchup but keeps his frustration down, knowing you can't do anything for it, being a toddler and all. As soon as you were finished he grabbed a tissue from the box that stood on the coffee table, wiping your face and hands quickly before you could wipe it on yourself or the white luxury couch.

He grabs the plate from your lap before picking you up, setting you on his hip as he walks into the kitchen to place the plate in the sink. After, he makes his way upstairs to the bathroom with you.

He sits you down on the toilet lid, starting the bathtub. "Wait here, I'm gonna grab you some pyjamas." He says, looking around and grabs one of the rubber ducks, handing it to you to keep you occupied until he comes back.

Rafe soon returns, seeing you move the duck on the edge of the sink, holding it up to him when he enters the room again. "Quack! Quack!"

He smiles, placing your clothes on the counter, stepping in front of you. "Alright, hands up, kiddo."

You lift your hands, letting him pull your shirt over your head. Before you know it you are in the bathtub with some toys, splashing a little with them.

While you are entertaining yourself Rafe starts to wash your hair, trying his best to not let soap get into your eyes as you're moving around. He uses his hands to pour water over your head to rinse out the shampoo.

"Can I go underwater now?" You ask, wiping some water from your eyes. "Wanna be a mermaid!"

"Sure. Go on, I'm done anyway." He rinses off his hands just as your head goes beneath the water but quickly come up again.

Soon you were finished with your bath, whining as Rafe combs your hair. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

Before he puts on your pyjamas he grabs one of your nappies from under the sink. You're in potty training right now but still have to wear a nappy during the night just in case.

"So, since you're a big girl I bet you don't need me to read you to sleep...right?" He asks, hoping you would agree but he drops his head in defeat as you shake your head.

"No! You need to! Sarah usually does it." You tell him, grabbing his hand and dragging him to your room. You let go to rush over to the shelf, pointing up at the little section of books stacked up. "The gween book! S'my favorite!"

"A'ight, get on your bed." He waits for you to climb onto your pink princess bed, walking over to grab the book from the shelf and sits down on the edge of your small bed. He opens the book, coughing awkwardly. "Uh- ok...let's get this over with."

As he starts reading you get more comfortable, snuggling into your pillow and grabbing your teddy to cuddle with, listening intently.

You were already asleep after three pages but Rafe kept reading a while longer just to make sure before as slowly as possible standing up, praying you don't wake up again as he walks out of your room.

He sighs in relief after closing the door behind him. "Finally..." Now with you asleep in bed he could at least game for a while with the boys since they couldn't go party tonight.

Almost two hours later his door slowly opens and at first he is frustrated when you stand there but quickly takes his headset off when he sees tears rolling down your cheeks while holding onto your teddy tightly.

"Hey, hey, hey. C'mere." He waves you over, holding his arms out for you. You shuffle over to his bed, letting him hoist you up onto his lap and bury your face in his shirt. "What's wrong now?"

"Bad dream..." You sniffle, already feeling better just by him stroking your back.

"Ah, that sucks..." He waits a moment before continuing. "You- uhm, wanna stay here and watch me play for a while? Can't tell dad about this tho."

You nod and he moves you so you're facing the tv, kissing the top of your head. He grabs his head set again and you could hear the muffled voices of Topper and Kelce who are asking where the hell Rafe is.

"God damn, calm your asses down I'm back. So, change of plans, we gotta play something else. My sis is here and can hear you too so you idiots better watch yourself."

You giggle into your teddy as he talks to them, not seeing the smile on your brother's face. You're not so annoying after all.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH Ahem-

I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)

(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)

bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake

Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon

Oh I can definitely work with this ^^

......

When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.

"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.

Easy as pizza pie, right?

Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.

Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.

So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.

Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.

"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.

Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.

Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"

But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.

You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.

On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.

While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.

Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.

Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.

The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.

But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.

Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.

He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!

Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.

So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.

When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.

He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.

But as it turns out, you love your job!

You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.

And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).

Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.

Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.

Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.

But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.

Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.

Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.

"Was he just laughing at us...?"

"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."

Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.

[aaroleswapau]

Do you have any swap!franziska art? Wanna see more of her design

i unfortunately don't have any polished art of her bc i think when i drew this, my swap au hyperfixation was starting to wane, whoops! these are just some very quick sketches of what i wanted her new thing in the swap au to be.

(i will be putting old art of her old design if you want to see it under read more pftt [unfortunately not a lot of them bc i wasn't vibing with the old role i gave her so i wasn't drawing her a lot 😔])

oki doks, now time for a lore dump!!!!! (copy-pasting what i wrote on the bird app a long time ago):

ok, so the thing is, i gave a bit of redd white's role to mvk. my reasoning for that is since he's the one who killed gregory (who has mia's role), he'd have to take on that role too. when characters don't have any like, "exact" foils for their roles to be swapped with, i either make them stay the same or hobble some roles together. mvk's case was the latter.

so mvk runs a private eye that's connected to the prosecutor's office (he's corrupt bc have you seen that guy) and franziska happens to be working there.

mvk also happens to be one the people responsible for covering up the details about mia's death.

i wanted to change franziska's job from my first version of her bc she doesn't really have a connection to the supernatural, so i just gave her a job that works closely in the covering crimes too.

but yeah, fran has to meet gregory, and then she gets framed by redd white

and she's furious about it, of course! that fool works under her father, how dare he put the blame on her!

with how fran is supposedly cooperating with gregory, i think mvk would've really wanted her to catch the fall even with how much he cares about his daughter. he's an 'end justifies the means' kind of guy.

i don't think fran realizes until swap!jfa that it was her father who purposely tried to frame her and the one who ordered to kill gregory.

i think she'd feel really torn by that and the guilt with how miles defended her before knowing all that would've ate her up (the fact that gregory is dead, no spirit channeling or anything makes this more fucked up for them i think agfhhjh)

however, i still haven't figured out why franziska would agree to talk to gregory if he's investigating mia's death, and i'm not quite sure why gregory would've been investigating mia's death in the first place bc unlike mia in the regular verse, he'd have no connections to her case at least

(that would probably require some aai duology knowledge that i do not have right now ASKSKS)

my brain isn't fully working right now so i can't fully ramble on about her design, but i did think it was important to make her dress eccentric; and i know that everyone dresses eccentric in aa, but particularly that one point in turnabout sisters where april may should've remembered maya bc she dressed weird? i wanted the same for franziska ASKSKS roast her old-timey gothic looking ass!!!!!

and from my recent drawing of her, i think if i were to draw like, a polished ref for her, i would like to show the fact that her make-up is severe. again, 'eccentric' or whatever pftt

i originally had her be like a witch, some sort of seer who could communicate with the dead through her crystal ball. scrapped that and changed it bc it was just not digging my dudes asdghd a shame tho bc i'm rather fond of her big-ass veil witch hat thingy

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 16- Miguel x Villian!Reader (Bondage)

*Requested by reader ;) *

        The age of heroes was long gone, therefore you thought it was safe to play the part of a villain. Not really a villain, per se, you were a thief. Upon reading about how glorious the past thieves and villains were, you wanted to give your life a new thrill. Taking upon the name of, 'Black Cat', you dedicated your nights to stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, or sometimes to your pockets. Which ever gave you more of a high.

"Ohhhhhh, look at those earrings she is wearing! I'm sure she won't notice if I take them~"

"I'm sure she will,"

"No she-Ah!"

        You yelped away from the window, wondering who was talking to you. To your surprise, it was a tall muscular man in a suit. This must have been the big scary Spiderman that everyone was talking about. Your eyes wandered from his head to his toe. He was much finer than the stories you heard. Ain't no way a man like that was single. You swore a lightbulb appeared above your head. There was something new to steal now.

"Don't believe we've officially met, I'm Black Cat, but you can call me Kitty." You said with a wink.

"Gatita? (kitty?)" He repeated. 

        You nearly gasped. He was Spanish too, one of your many weaknesses in a man! Holding your chest, you nearly stumbled. What would happen if you just surrounded yourself to him? Spiderman was a hero, perhaps you can taint him!

"Wow, that just rolls right off the tongue-ahem, anyway, there's no way such a big hero like yourself is here to stop lil ol' me from stealing some earrings, right?"

"No. Just patrolling and saw a shady figure looking to break in."

"I am not shady!" You said with a huff and approached him, "But, I'll be a good kitty tonight and go home. Maybe if we meet again, I can be good to you~" You purred, trailing your finger against his chest.

        You quickly left with a wide grin against your lips. Oh he was so toned! You casually glanced back, hoping that your flirting was good enough. It had been a while since you did something so bold. Well, the mask sure helped.

----------

        Miguel just stood there, wondering what had just happened. Normally he wouldn't let such petty thieves get away without teaching them a lesson, but then again, you didn't steal anything yet. That, and Miguel had not been flirted with in such a long time that he was in shock. Your casual touch against his skin made him tense. You called yourself a good kitty for him. That was something he was going to think about all night.

----------

        As luck would have it, you kept bumping into Spiderman. It was always whenever you were going to steal something petty or for yourself. Never when it was for others. It made you wonder if he was watching what you were stealing. If so, where would he draw the line? It felt like your flirting was working because Spiderman had started to flirt back! Oh, you nearly dropped on your knees the first time he said something so proactive! You nearly folded right then and there for him!

"Not yet, (y/n)! You need to think!"

"(Y/n)? What a pretty name," Spiderman said with a hum. You let out a whine as your cat claws stroked down the wall you were about to climb,

"You're so mean to me!" You teased, facing the tall man, "Are you going to look me up when you get home, huh Spidey?"

"Now why would I want to look up criminals?" He drew closer to you, "Unless you want me too?"

"Tsk, tsk, this kitty won't like that. This game has to be fair."

"I don't play games with thieves." Spiderman hummed lowly, his hand pressed against the wall as he hovered over you, "Now what were you trying to steal this time?" He asked.

        You gave him your best pout, trying to act innocent. Why was this man so attractive!? If only you can match a face with that sexy voice of his. You bit you lower lip as you took notice of the position you were in. This was straight out of a comic book! Argh, if only you weren't restricted by his mask. You would totally kiss him!

"Why don't I let you guess?" You placed a hand against his chest, "If you guess correctly, I'll reward you~"

"I don't play games with-"

"Boo! Perhaps next time you can play with this kitty. I'm flexible~" You whispered in his ear before dashing off.

-------------

        Miguel inhaled deeply as he watched you scurry off. He kept saying that he did not play games with criminals, yet here he was, letting you run off. Like a game of cat and mouse, only he was a Spider. Miguel groaned lowly as your last words repeated in his mind. Next time he might want that reward you were tempting him with. Next time, he might stop playing games and catch you...Just to see how flexible you really were. It all depends on how you were going to be and what you were going to steal.

-------------

        This was it! This was really going to test your flirting skills with Spiderman. You might be going too far, but hell, this was for your own amusement. You wanted to steal Spiderman for yourself. Such a fine man deserved to be yours. You could not go to bed without thinking of him being intimate with you. You wanted him! Chuckling to yourself, you stared at the adult store in front of your, waiting for Spiderman to appear.

"What are you doing, gatita?" Spiderman said with a hesitant sigh. You smirked towards him,

"What? Can't even steal myself some relief? I'm tired of being a good kitty~"

"Rel-" Miguel stopped himself, feeling that thin line slowly breaking, "You don't need that."

"Awe~ Why not?" You slowly approached Spiderman, "Remember that game last time? Guess what I'm going to steal and I'll reward you? Well, it will be an extra sweet reward~"

"Fuck," Oh, you weren't expecting that, "I'm done playing games."

        Before you can whine, you yelped as Spiderman fired his webbing towards you. You gasped as both of your hands were stuck to the building. Spiderman drew closer to you, webbing your hands more firmly so your claws couldn't break you free.

"You've been a bad, gatita. I'm going to have to punish you after all," His voice was low and raspy. Did you actually succeed?

"Oh? And how are you-ah~"

        You gasped once more as Spiderman started to rub his fingers against your cunt. The fabric causing a burning friction. You tried to close your legs, but Spiderman raised them and webbed them to the wall as well. This was an embarrassing position! You were completely caught in his web.

"Miguel," He whispered, trailing his fingers against the rip of your pants, "(Y/N), if you want relief so badly, then I'll give it to you."

        Shit, this was actually happening. You felt yourself grow wetter just by him telling you his name. At least now you had something to yell out. Muffling a moan, you whined as Miguel lowered your pants. The bottom half of his mask disappeared as he brought his tongue to your wet pussy. Your eyes widen as your saw fangs. So those rumors were true. Before you could ask him about them, you let out a loud moan as he licked your folds.

"M-Miguel!" You yelped in shock. Miguel just looked up at you thru his mask, licking your wet folds in the process,

"You can't lick yourself here, gatita, so I will." His voice vibrated throughout your body, causing you to shiver in delight.

        You tried to arch your back as he wiggled his tongue all over your pussy. A burning sensation traveling all over your body to your cunt. His hands stroking your legs, making you more sensitive. Miguel raised his head slightly, sucking against your clit. You cried out, feeling your growing pleasure. You felt his smirk as he slid his hand over your cunt, sliding two of his large digits inside of you. That was your final straw as you cam against his hand.

        You whined once more as Miguel kept fucking his fingers into your throbbing pussy, not giving you a chance to rest. His tongue still against your clit, eagerly sucking and licking. This was actually happening. Spiderman was fucking you. Trembling as Miguel curled his finger's inside you, you started to grind your hips against his hand. This was much better than whatever toy you were going to steal. Another gasp came out of you as Miguel started to pump his fingers faster. You wanted these webs off.

"C-Come on, Spidey, I-I'll be a good, ah, kitty, lemme g-go~" You begged, feeling another orgasm forming. Miguel looked at you, freeing your abused clit,

"Don't like it when you're trapped in my web?" He asked, bringing his fangs against your neck, "Gotta tie up criminals. Including bad gatitas." He whispered, sucking against your neck.

        Your whines got tuned out by your moans since Miguel pumped his fingers into your g-spot. Your vision blurred for a second as you cam once more. Miguel removed his fingers, giving them a lick as he freed his large cock. Pre-cum already dripping from his tip. You were brought back to your senses once you laid eyes on it. How was that going to fit? There was no way you could move either.

"Awe, is my gatita scared?" Miguel teased, pressing the tip of his cock against your soaked pussy, "Why don't I give you a reward for not stealing anything?"

"Mhm-Miguel...It's...too hn...b-big," You stuttered, trembling as he slowly slid his cock inside your gummy walls, "D-Does y-your training...including...d-dick growth?" 

"Hah," Miguel almost let out a rare laugh. 

        You wanted to say you were joking, but you weren't. Miguel was so big and thick. You were shaking as you felt your pussy stretch like never before. It hurt at first, but this position was making you adjust quickly. You were spread out like a damn butterfly. Thank god there were no cameras or nearby people. You flung your head back, moaning as you felt his tip hit your cervix. Who knew Spiderman had such a big dick. Who knew it would even fit inside you!

"Fuck, look at that. What a good gatita." Miguel groaned lowly.

        You whined softly as you felt your walls squeeze him. Miguel leaned in to kiss you before beginning his rough thrusts. Your eyes widen as you moaned into the kiss, surprised by his strength. You felt him fuck the breathe right out of your throat. With each thrust, Miguel bruised your cervix. He held your hips, climbing onto the wall to fuck you deeper. If only you could hold onto him. You felt so vulnerable in this position, unable to move. It was like you were just his fuck toy.

        You swore you saw stars as Miguel made you cum again. He grunted as his cock started to get a white ring from your juices. He quicken his pace, causing you to moan from overstimulation. How many more orgasms' was this man going to draw out of you. You started to feel dizzy, but you didn't want him to stop. Hearing another grunt, Miguel held your waist tighter, almost piercing it with his talons. He slammed his dick into you harshly, pouring his cum into your womb.

"That's right, good gatita's like their milk." Miguel panted softly. You just trembled,

"A-Ah~" You moaned lowly, feeling his hot load fill you.

        Miguel waited a moment before pulling out. He watched as a mixture of his cum and your juices rolled down your legs. He freed you from his webbing and fixed your suit. Glancing up at the building before you, he smirked under his mask,

"I'll let you steal just one thing from that store, but I'll have to punish you again." He whispered in your ear, holding your waist close to his. Your body leaned against his, unable to think straight,

"Do you like seeing this kitty all tied up?"

"I'd be lying if I said no."

"Then I'll reward my precious hero and grab more bondage...That doesn't involve sticky webs." You whined, still removing his webs from your suit. Miguel smirked, biting against your neck as he rubbed your pussy again,

"But you enjoy these sticky webs." He poked against your hole, causing you to melt under his touch,

"L-Lemme steal...mhm...something first."

"Yes, my good little gatita."

[izuke-the-zombie]

I noticed its been quite a while since you did anything with the healing spring AU (island AU), if you don't mind me asking, are you going to continue it or is it cancelled?

🌸No, it's not canceled I'm still trying to figure out how to explain this world in this Au a little better

I'm still new to Aus cuz I just keep creating more or at least just scenarios or head cannons(I've been making too many of those) and I get sidetracked a lot! I have SoooOooOoo many other new Doodles that don't involve the healing spring Au

I mean, I'm not even sure how to plan an Au properly. I know I have to make a story and follow it and a couple of times I thought why do I just try to make a fanfic (keyword try) explain it better( I REALLY suck at making fanfics).

I sometimes can't figure out how to keep an au going. I think that's the problem (and you know personal life stuff that junk to).

I mean I draw new everything's and I still have the healing spring AU Doodles that are kind of like notes to me, right now I'm trying to figure out how to make this AU deep and with angst and stuff I'm trying not to be too cutesy I'm trying to put these characters through hell, face their past and cry/hurt/awkwardness/ worry/ survive/ secrets/ mystery/ angst/ talking/ healing /bonding /pining, kind of thing I'm not sure how to make that happen

How do you put that in an Au? I sure as hell don't know! And the worst part about this is this is my favorite of all of my AUs too!!!

Sorry I don't want to make this too long I just want to figure out how you guys make these Aus and hurt these characters the right way what's your guys Secret I'm probably going to have to ask someone to help me make this AU a thing know brainstorm and all that

🌸Anyways I hope this answers your question

🌸Here's a little comic I made I just thought it was a funny scenario that would happen in the island😚✨

Wish me luck guys.... I'm going to need it😩

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 26 (Aphrodisiac)

Blaidd x Male!reader

You sat on your bedroll near the crackling campfire as you tinkered with your materials. You sighed deeply while attempting to craft a Bloodboil Aromatic. The alluring scent of flora wafted through the air. Blaidd had been gone for some time, hunting for fresh meat. Your fingers were stained with various potions and ingredients, but there was still something missing – Land Octopus Ovaries.

You huff as you look through your bag again. You stop when you see you still have beast blood from those Monstrous dogs you had slain in Caelid. You bring the glass vial to your nose and sniff it. It almost smells the same as the ovaries. You wonder if it could serve as a substitute.

Fuck it. You pop the cork and pour the thick blood into your mortar.

As you mix the substances together, you hear rustling of leaves from the woods. Suddenly, Blaidd exits the treeline and heads over to your campfire. He's carrying a large piece of raw meat. He drops it beside the fire and gives you an exhausted smile before collapsing onto his makeshift bedroll next to yours.

"Did I miss anything?" he asks groggily.

You shake your head slightly. "Nothing much, just trying to make something," you say nonchalantly as you carefully pour the contents of the mortar into a new vial. Instead of the usual deep red color associated with Bloodboil Aromatics, the liquid inside has taken on a faint pink hue.

Blaidd raises an eyebrow and approaches you curiously. He takes the vial and uncorks it before taking a whiff. His eyes widen in realization.

"That doesn't look like any Bloodboil Aromatic I've seen before," he remarks, eyeing the unfamiliar color of the potion. "What did you use instead of the Land Octopus Ovaries?"

You shrug casually. "Just beast blood from those big doggies we fought back in Caelid," you explain. "I figured they might work since they're kinda similar, right?"

Blaidd hesitates for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Well, I suppose so... But I don't think anyone has tried using dog blood instead of octopus ovaries before. This might be interesting."

Nodding firmly, you grab the vial containing your concoction and raise it to your lips. "Only one way to find out!" you declare boldly.

Blaidd looks worried. "Are you sure? We don't know what effect this will have—"

"Too late".

You swallow the entire contents of the vial without another thought. Immediately afterward, a strange sensation begins to spread throughout your body. Warmth fills your veins, followed by an mild burning sensation that seems to radiate from every cell in your being. Sweat breaks out on your forehead as you feel like you're on fire from within.

Gasping for breath, you drop the empty vial and lie on your bedroll.

Blaidd rushes to your side, concern etched across his features. However, upon closer inspection, he realizes that rather than experiencing pain, you appear to be... enjoying yourself? With each wave of heat coursing through your body, you let out soft moans of pleasure.

Your hands stretch out towards him, desperately seeking contact. Confused yet intrigued, Blaidd tentatively allows himself to be pulled closer. Your arms wrap around his waist and pull him close.

Puzzled by your behavior, Blaidd leans in closer to get a better whiff of whatever is causing such a reaction in his mate. As he takes a deep breath, his eyes widen in surprise. That familiar scent – one that sends shivers down his spine and causes his heart to race – emanates from you. Arousal.

Somehow, in place of creating a Bloodboil Aromatic, you had managed to craft up an aphrodisiac!

As Blaidd continues to process the situation, you begin to grow impatient. Moaning louder now, you attempt to draw him even closer until your faces are mere inches apart. Your lips part slightly, begging for a taste of his mouth.

He quickly comes to the conclusion that perhaps the beast blood played a role in changing the outcome of the potion.

Frustration bubbles within you as Blaidd remains lost in thought. Unable to hold back anymore, you release a whimper, demanding his attention.

Finally, he snaps out of his daze and gazes down at you, taking in your flushed face and pleading expression. Understanding dawns on him – you need him now, more than ever.

Blaidd lowers his lips to meet yours in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Intoxicated by the potion's effects, you throw caution to the wind and devour Blaidd's lips with fervor. Your hands move restlessly beneath his armor, eager to touch bare fur.

Blaidd chuckles softly between kisses, finding your aroused state highly entertaining. Yet, despite his amusement, he cannot help but crave more contact with you.

Reluctantly pulling away from your lips, Blaidd starts to remove his armor piece by piece. Hearing your plaintive whines, he gives you a playful grin. "Patience, mate," he coos teasingly.

Eager to join him, you hastily shed your own garments to relieve yourself of the heat overtaking your body.

Stripped bare, you settle back onto the bedroll, legs spread wide open in invitation. Your hard member stands proudly erect, pulsing with desire. You can't help but give into primal instincts, letting out a series of heavy pants that echo through the campsite.

Blaidd's ears perk up at the sound, his own arousal growing stronger by the second. With swift movements, he joins you on the ground, his tail swishing excitedly behind him.

Chuckling softly, Blaidd watches as you continue to behave erratically. Could the beast blood be responsible for bringing forth these animalistic behaviors? To test his theory, he reaches out and gently strokes your belly.

The instant his hand makes contact with your skin, you arch your back and let out a mewl of delight. Your canine nature seems undeniable. You emit a low whine of approval, prompting Blaidd to continue exploring further south.

Encouraged by your response, Blaidd delves deeper into his exploration. His fingers dance across your inner thighs, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You writhe beneath his ministrations, unable to contain the building pressure within you.

It doesn't take long for his hand to brush against your twitching cock, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips. Your hips buck wildly, urging him to keep touching you.

Teasingly, Blaidd wraps his large hand around your throbbing erection, squeezing gently as he begins to stroke you. The sensations send shockwaves through your body, eliciting a series of whining moans.

"Such a needy little mate," he murmurs affectionately, unable to resist leaning in for another kiss.

Fueled by the aphrodisiac, you lose control entirely. Whimpering and reaching for him, you manage to capture his head between your palms. Pulling him closer, you devour his lips once more, turning the kiss into a messy affair filled with slurping sounds and saliva.

Beneath the influence of the potion, your speech devolves into babbling, but one word rings clear amidst the chaos – "please." Over and over again, you beg for release.

Growling low in his throat, Blaidd responds to your pleas with increased vigor. His tongue delves deeper into your mouth as the pumping on your cock picks up speed.

Abruptly, Blaidd tears his lips away from yours and slithers down your torso. Without warning, his warm tongue swirls around the tip of your member, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Sucking you whole, he begins to bob his head rapidly, eliciting loud cries from your parched throat. You buck your hips into his maw.

"Mmmm... fuck... yes..." you mumble, completely overcome by the pleasure. As Blaidd works your cock, you dissolve into a mass of incomprehensible moans and mumbles. Your body temperature skyrockets due to the aphrodisiac, leaving you covered in sweat and borderline delirious.

The intensity builds within you, threatening to break the dam holding back your release. With a pitiful cry, you finally succumb to the waves of pleasure crashing over you. White hot cum shoots from your cock, filling Blaidd's waiting mouth. He opens his maw wide, allowing you to witness your semen splattering the walls of his throat.

Without missing a beat, Blaidd switches his focus to your quivering hole. He presses his tongue flat against your puckered entrance, circling it with practiced ease.

Overwhelmed by the sudden stimulation, all you can muster is a weak protest mixed with a whine. "Blaidd, wait, I... fuuuuck."

Blaidd lifts your legs over his broad furry shoulders, giving himself unfettered access to your hole. He raises your ass off the ground a bit. He presses his nose against your crevice, inhaling deeply the musky scent of your arousal.

Slathering his wet tongue over your asshole, he digs his furry snout deeper into your crack. All the while, he growls his appreciation, letting you know exactly how much he's enjoying your flavors.

"So...good," he rasps between licks. "You taste so good, my mate."

Blaidd drives his long tongue deeper inside you. Each thrust feels impossibly filthy, yet incredibly exhilarating. As he forces your body to accommodate his size, he lifts your ass higher, forcing you to balance awkwardly on your shoulder blades.

Unable to form coherent words, all you can offer in return are helpless whimpers.

After a few minutes, Blaidd withdraws from your depths and surveys his handiwork. Your hole is loosely open, glistening with wolf saliva. Even in its relaxed state, it still seems hungry for more.

Seeing how well you've taken his tongue thus far, he praises you. "Good boy, such a good, responsive mate."

With a gentle tug, Blaidd guides you back down to the ground, positioning you just right to receive his thick wolf cock. Its massive girth slaps against your now flaccid member, reminding you that there's still much more to come.

Despite your exhaustion, you find the strength to beg for more. "Please, Blaidd... I want it... please fill me up"

Blaidd teases you mercilessly, pressing the tip of his massive member against your gaping hole. Instinctively, you clench your inner muscles, trying to entice him further.

"Be patient, mate. We have all night." His words leave no room for argument, though they do little to quell your burning need. He pushes the very tip inside before retreating once more.

Frustrated by Blaidd's slow pace, you throw caution to the wind and wrap your legs around his waist, attempting to pull him deeper inside. Unfortunately, he proves too strong for your feeble efforts.

A deep rumble escapes his throat as he laughs heartily at your bold move. "So eager," he remarks playfully. "I like that." Undeterred, he continues to plunge the head of his cock in and out of your eager hole.

Finally, Blaidd decides enough is enough and slides an inch deeper inside you. The sensation sends you spiraling into another wave of ecstasy.

Growling in approval, he claims possession of your body. "Feels so good having me inside you, doesn't it?"

Unable to formulate words, you simply nod frantically, lost in the haze of desire. Satisfied by your state, Blaidd takes hold of your hips and plunges the remainder of his monstrous, canine cock into your body.

Once Blaidd bottoms out, he allows himself a moment to revel in the connection. "Mmm, perfect fit," He mutters as his furry balls nuzzle against your ass.

Instead of immediately thrusting, Blaidd opts for something slower – grinding and gyrating his cock inside you. Grabbing your hands, he pulls them around his torso, locking you in place as he sets a leisurely pace.

In the midst of your passionate coupling, Blaidd suddenly pulls out completely. Before you have time to protest, he slams back inside with a single forceful thrust.

Your cries of surprise morph into pleasured mewls at the sudden intrusion. "Shhh, there's a good mate," Blaidd whispers tenderly, knowing full well how sensitive you must still be from the potion. "Sweet boy".

Nestled within the comfort of his embrace, Blaidd resumes his measured strokes. With each powerful thrust, his heavy balls slap rhythmically against your exposed rear end.

Taking advantage of your closeness, he presses his nose into the crook of your neck, taking deep breaths filled with your scent.

Overcome by your intoxicating scent, Blaidd cannot help but comment on it. "You smell amazing, love. Maybe we should make some more of that aphrodisiac for next time." His words send a fresh surge of arousal coursing through your veins.

Urged on by your growing excitement, Blaidd picks up his pace, fucking you harder than before. His tongue darts out to trace the edge of a prominent scar adorning your neck – the mark he gave you when you both became mates. His thrusts become erratic, bordering on feral.

Wrapping his arms around you possessively, Blaidd's voice lowers to a primal growl. "Oh gods, I want to flood you with my cum so badly, mate."

Hearing these words ignites a fire within you, prompting you to beg for it. "Yes...cum in me," You mutter in a daze.

Encouraged by your words, Blaidd doubles his efforts, driven solely by primal urges. Every powerful thrust of his cock elicits a mix of squelching and squishing sounds from your ass.

As he nears climax, his knot swells dangerously close to bursting point.

Giving into his most basic impulses, Blaidd sinks his teeth into the flesh surrounding your bonding scar. You cry out as you hold him tighter. At the same time, his bloated knot forces its way past your ring of muscle with a wet pop, locking you together. Finally, he releases his load deep within you, filling every crevice with his cum. You whine as you feel his cock twitch and throb with every pump of cum.

With both of you trembling during the comedown, Blaidd cradles you gently in his arms, offering words of solace and praise. "That was incredible, mate. You took me so well... so perfectly."

You let out a content sigh. "Yeah, that was amazing," you say as you kiss the side of his muzzle.

Sensing your improved mental state, Blaidd cannot help but remark upon it. "Seems like the effects of the aphrodisiac have finally worn off, eh? Good thing too, otherwise we wouldn't be able to stop ourselves from fucking all day."

Locked together at the hips, you manage to summon a small smile. "Sounds like a plan for another night. I think I might need to write down that recipe." Your words are met with amused chuckles from Blaidd.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[moonchildstyles]

hemlock

oleander part two: sneaking away to see harry, y/n learned more than she bargained for

wordcount: 16.7k+

—————

The blunt of (Y/N)'s teeth sunk into her bottom lip, holding back the lingering smile that wanted to curl her features. More than once, she peeked through her lashes to the darkly dressed figure sauntering through the apothecary. 

True to his word the last time they had met, Harry returned to the apothecary sooner than usual. It had only been a pair of weeks since she had seen him previous when she was being carted away from his castle. He had been on her mind since, hoping he wouldn't wait the usual two months before she would see him perusing the shelves once more. 

The second that she had seen him step over the threshold of the front door, her heart fluttered through her chest in a rattling beat. A lopsided curl made a home on his own features, but they both stayed quiet. 

They both knew they couldn't exactly boast about their clandestine meetings. Their encounters were unspoken secrets that they could now share in fleeting glances and small smiles. 

It was seemingly harder than ever to keep her eyes to herself and her feet behind the counter this time. That alluring draw of him had been elevated that much higher now that there was more of that connection forged between. More than once, before falling asleep, she sent herself sweet dreams with the final thought of just how concerned he was, reaching for her when she woke up after the storm. 

As if knowing exactly what was on her mind, Harry flicked his gaze over his shoulder to her. She didn't turn away in time, instead allowing her skin to warm when his eyes grazed over her skin. 

He was the first to break the contact before he absently reached for a bundle of lavender sprigs and started towards the counter. They both knew he didn't really need anything new, but shopping for more was the perfect excuse to share space once more. 

"Did you find all that you were looking for, sir?" she asked, repeating the same script she had always given him when he dropped his purchase on the counter. 

"I did, thank you," he smiled, canting his head as he watched her take her time checking him out, "The weather has been rather intense lately, don't you think?" 

She had her head down as he spoke, though she didn't mask the smile that bloomed across her features. She knew what he was getting at. "Definitely. The storms have been unlike the previous years. I had a bit of trouble a few weeks ago during one of the thunderstorms, but I'm doing much better now." 

"Good. I am happy to hear that," he drawled, his voice thick like the velvet she remembered glazing over her skin when she woke up in his castle. "I hope the weather stays stable for a little while longer, as I'm planning on throwing a dinner party in the coming weeks."

(Y/N) perked up, her meandering fingers slowing. "Really? A dinner party?" 

"Yes," he cemented, linking his dark eyes with hers in unwavering contact, "I am planning on it being an intimate affair, only a few in attendance. I do not have the specifics planned out yet, but invitations will be sent out in the coming weeks." 

She really hoped she was picking up on the correct message he was passing along, and it wasn't just her dreamy heart that told her that she would be one of the few receiving an invitation. Her lungs squeezed at the thought of rejoining him at the castle, even if it included the prying eyes of others. 

Collecting herself, she passed back the lavender bundle. "I am sure it will be wonderful, sir. I can't imagine you would plan anything less than flawless." 

"We will have to see," he started, dropping coins on the counter without having to be told the price, "I expect it to be perfect as long as the right guests show up." 

Another meaningful glance was shared between them. A slight quirk appeared on his lips. 

"Until next time, (Y/N)." 

Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, she swore she felt her skin warm despite the low temperature of the shop. "Until next time, sir." 

Using the window beside the counter, (Y/N) watched him head straight towards a midnight carriage drawn by bone-white horses. Pulling over the cobblestone, the coach headed straight back towards the castle, no other stops made.

—————

The rickety stool under (Y/N)'s feet wobbled some as she stretched to the tips of her toes. Her breath was stuck in her throat each time she felt that small stool creak under her feet. No matter the dropping of her stomach every time her stability tottered, she kept up her task of hanging the herbs from the lines criss-crossing through the apothecary. 

Just as she took another twined bundle of lavender from her basket, intending to add it to the row that needed a few more days of drying before being added to the shelves, a knock sounded on the front door of the apothecary. The sound took her by surprise, her balance waning with her hand over her head and toes stretched in her boots. 

The door was unlocked, right? The shop had been open for hours; there was no reason to give a knock to the door.

Nonetheless, (Y/N) carefully climbed down from the stool. Looking towards the door, she saw an unfamiliar, pale face looking through the glass. The sight had a zip of fear going up her spine, her hand fluttering up to rest on her throat. The man on the other side of the door didn't have any reaction to her fright, his features set in expressionless stone. 

While she didn't recognize this man, there were small details that she could also see in Harry. This man had pale skin, and dark eyes. He looked to be impossibly still, stuck in a moment in time. 

He could clearly see her through the glass, a surefire sign that the shop was well open and ready for customers. Still, he stayed out in the late morning dew, patiently waiting for her. 

While there was no way he hadn't caught her reaction, (Y/N) still tried her best to school her expression into something pleasant. Moving across the shop, basket of lavender at her hip, she opened the door for her new patron. 

"Good morning," she greeted, feeling the touch of frigid morning air grazing her skin, "How may I help you, sir?" 

Ignoring her initial question, he only asked, "May I enter?" 

Taken aback, she floundered over her response. "Um—I—" she stumbled. She'd never had to invite a customer in while the shop was open. Collecting herself, she bowed her head as she opened the door wide enough for him to make it through, "Yes. Please, come in." 

He moved deftly over the floor, barely making a sound on the floorboards. "You are Ms. (Y/N), right?" 

Giving a fluttering blink of her eyes, (Y/N) nodded her head. "Yes, I am." 

The man silently pulled out an envelope from his jacket before passing it off to her. Cautiously taking it from his grip, she tried not to appear as curious as she felt when she peered down at the elegant letter now in her hands. 

On the front, in glimmering, burnished gold lettering was her name scripted in looping font. Just the weight alone was enough to show just how important this correspondence was, as if the hand-delivery wasn't enough to give away as much. Only for the fact she still had an audience, (Y/N) refrained from slipping her finger under the blood red wax seal enclosing the flap.

Instead, she tucked it behind her back before looking up towards the footman. 

Only, he was gone. 

She just barely caught him on his way out, the length of his dark hair fluttering behind him as the bell above the door tinkled. The sound was decidedly quieter than when she had pushed the door open herself to let him in. She hadn't even heard him cross the space, the floorboards giving nothing away under his footfalls. 

There was no chance to say anything to him—thank him for the delivery, ask him who the letter was from, anything at all, really. She was unable to catch even what direction he disappeared in, only knowing that she was now alone. 

A grin plucked at her lips at the thought. 

(Y/N) didn't waste a second before she was pulling out the letter once more, wanting to open it as soon as possible while she had the privacy. 

Allowing her eyes to peruse over the gorgeous stationery, she could see the faint flecks of shimmer in the ink used to spell out her name. The wax seal was a vivid red color, embossed with a bold S wreathed in thorns. Doing her best to keep the wax intact, (Y/N) carefully picked at the edge to flip open the flap. Inside, a folded letter awaited on another piece of rich stationary. 

Her breath was stolen as she unfolded the paper, looking over what exactly had been so important to be delivered directly to her hand. 

It was an invitation. 

The ink was the same burnished gold, accented with filigree style line work across the edges. There was a texture to the page, (Y/N) unable to keep from running the pad of her thumb across the page. It was luxurious—the kind of correspondence she figured nobility would have the privilege of receiving. And, it was addressed to her. 

A week from today's date, she was requested to be present at Harry Styles' home for a dinner party in celebration of the turn of the season. The same party he had told her about a week prior. 

There was no doubt she would appear mad to any onlooker that dared to peer through the windows into the shop, seeing as how she was grinning down at the letter. She had hoped this was what Harry had been telling to her without actually saying it—that she would be invited to his home for this dinner. Her heart sped up behind her ribs, her breath shorting in her lungs at the idea of rejoining him at his home. 

Without permission, a squeal escaped (Y/N)'s lips. She couldn't help herself as she twirled her dress fanning around her ankles, as she pressed the letter to her heart. 

There was no doubt she was mad now.

—————

(Y/N) had been riding high all day after her special delivery, only for the comedown to have her face planting into the earth. 

There was another body found. Another young woman laid to rest in the woods with her throat ripped out and no blood left in her body. 

The village was submerged in shades of blue for the rest of the night, including her father by the time he made it home. He had gone out with others of the town to help carry the woman back to the village in hopes of giving her a proper burial with her family. 

He had been practically silent since he scaled the stairs of the apothecary, joining her in the flat above. His energy was hard to ignore, even if her mind continued to wander more than once to the letter she had spent hours memorizing when she had been alone. She had been so excited when receiving the correspondence, but now that giddiness had to live alongside that simpering grief the rest of the village had slipped into. 

There was nothing but the sound of cutlery clinking against their chipped flatware, dinner nothing more than a warming stew and the last of the summer vegetables that had been harvested. Her father saw their home through unseeing eyes, as he couldn't seem to focus on one space for too long before he was flitting to the next. (Y/N) matched his silence, keeping to herself in hopes of allowing the night to pass quickly. In the morning, hope would be restored to her neighbors and she wouldn't feel so out of place still feeling excitement for her invitation. 

"What is that?" 

Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) checked back into the unexpected moment. "Pardon?" 

Her father's eyes were fixed over her shoulder, towards the kitchen where the leftovers of the stew were simmering on the tiny stove implanted in the space. "What is that?" 

Twisting in her seat, she tried to follow his gaze. "There are some leftovers if that is what you are wondering—" 

"No," he cut her off, pushing his chair away from the table before stalking towards the kitchen. 

At the last moment, she realized what exactly had caught his attention. 

During the hours she had been left alone while he aided the village in bringing the young woman in the woods home, she had read and reread and reread the invitation as many times as she could. She admired the gilded writing, the exquisite seal, and every luxurious detail. She had left it out on the counter while she cooked, leaving it in arm's reach. 

That was where it still sat. 

That was where her father was headed. 

For the first time, she felt fortunate for her father's aching joints and the long hours he had been on his feet—even before the trip to the forest. He was moving slow enough for her to jump up and cut him off, as if she were joining him in finding whatever he had fixed his attention on. 

"This?" she asked, plucking up another piece of mail that the Wayfields had sent along with Margret the day previous. "It is only a recipe from Mrs. Wayfield—for her potato soup and the bread with the bubbles she's so skilled at making." 

She waved the envelope for her father to see, though it was decidedly less ornate than that of the one she was currently hiding behind her back. If she could, she would have crossed her fingers in hopes of him falling for her ruse. 

He blinked as he took in what she was trying to pass off as the same piece of mail that had the wax seal and glimmering writing. "There was another letter, (Y/N). Where is it?" 

Her palms began to sweat. Her father would not be happy to know she had been requested by the Count, especially not on a day like today when he had undoubtedly spent plenty of time with those who accused Harry of being a monster. 

"I do not—" 

"What are you hiding behind your back?" 

"Nothing." Her response came too quickly. Her father's eyes narrowed. 

"(Y/N)." 

"It is really nothing," (Y/N) tired again, digging up any kind of excuse she could, "I was doing inventory for downstairs, and—" 

"(Y/N)," he said once more, his voice edging into something sharp and steely. Now wasn't the time, he was telling her. "Let me see." 

She only swallowed, keeping her hand stuck behind her back. 

Everything happened in a vacuum then. Time was ticking with her heartbeats while staying still in the middle of the kitchen. It didn't take much for her father to reach around and grab the letter, ripping it out of her hands before she could even tighten her grip.

There was panic sifting through her veins as she saw him look over the letter, the flap roughly pulled open with the letter folded open with careless fingers. She took quick strides towards him, intending to pull the stationary right out of his hands, to keep him from damaging the page any more or looking over the invitation. There was barely a fight, her father raising it out of her reach with his gaze hardening more and more with every word he read. 

"This is from him? And, you are trying to hide it from me?" he seethed, looking to her with blazing eyes, "After everything that has happened today, you are trying to protect him?" 

A lump sat heavily in her throat, (Y/N) attempting to swallow around it through her eyes never left the letter that was above her head. "It's not like that, father," she tried to argue, "You know he has nothing to do with all of that. It is only a dinner party; I think he is trying to get to know us more, and he knows me from shopping downstairs, so—"

"How do you know?!" he boomed, breaking for the first time (Y/N) had seen since her mother's passing. "How do you know he has nothing to do with the dead girls? How do you know he doesn't have everything to do with it all, (Y/N)? You think it is safe to attend a dinner party at his dungeon? You welcome his advances knowing all that you do?!" 

(Y/N) was rooted in her spot, listening to the tirade her father bubbled off. There was nothing she could say, nothing that could satisfy him no matter how carefully she picked her words. 

"I know he is a well-off man, (Y/N)," he continued, taking her silence as response enough, "But you do not know him, no matter what you have been telling yourself. You daydream, and romanticize, and let your head wander too far from reality. How can you find reason enough to think it is safe to attend a party at his home? Have you already forgotten what you saw in the woods? Do you realize how easy it would be for you to join them?" 

His words stung. He had always had a problem with her active imagination, the willingness she had to let her mind wander and come to the prettier conclusion, the softer avenue. Is that what she had done with Harry? Was that the missing piece? While she was wondering what it would be like to glide across a ballroom in his arms, feel the soft of his lips over her cheek, what the swirls of his curls would feel like between her fingers, the rest of the village was seeing the sharpened teeth and soulless eyes of a beast. Was she really that naive? 

"I have not forgotten about that night, (Y/N). I have not forgotten about the night you were missing, either—wherever you truly were." 

Dropping her gaze to the floorboards, (Y/N) felt her eyes sting. 

While she knew he couldn't have been completely accepting of her lie, this was the first time he had acknowledged that her word hadn't been completely true. 

"I am not letting the next body we find be yours, (Y/N). You are not going to that dinner party, do you understand me?" His command was emphasized with the sound of paper crumpling in his fist. He was ruining her invitation. 

(Y/N)'s tongue was too dry for her mouth, unable to form a single word. 

In a blurry moment, she was aware of her father stretching across the space, throwing the stove door open to reveal the small fire confined to the space. He tossed the letter in, the seal melting and slopping off the page while the paper singed and blackened at the edges before ashing away. 

"Do you understand me, (Y/N)? Look at me, and promise me you will not go." 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched the page burn away. How could she have let this happen? 

"Do not take the last of my family away from me," her father pleaded, finally seeming to break through the cloud in her head. 

"I will not go," she agreed in a distant voice. "I understand." 

When her father wrapped his arms around her, (Y/N) wanted to reciprocate with her heart though she could only do so with her arms. 

—————

(Y/N) crawled on her hands and knees, ignoring her designated companion for the afternoon, as she weeded the herb garden. Lucy chattered away behind her as if they both didn't know (Y/N)'s head was miles away.

In her imagination, she was at the grandiose castle that no one else in her village had seen the way she had. She was there with the kindest man she had ever met, the man who cared for her in the middle of a storm when he could have kept moving and abandoned her to her own devices. She saw him when he rushed across the hallway, panicked that she might not be as well as he thought. She saw him as he positioned himself between her and the group of rowdy men spilling out of the pub. Those small things were more than she was sure he even knew, actions that someone who was practically a stranger wouldn't do unless they had a good heart. 

She pinged between the castle, and back to the kitchen of her flat. There, she saw the way her father's eyes had blazed at her, anger boiling under his skin as he reminded her of what he had to lose should she end up one of those in the woods. She saw hints of the mourning man she had met after her mother's passing and her sister's departure. In the end, she knew he was nothing more than a scared father, seeing danger where she didn't. She had never seen him like that before. 

Was she truly so blind? Her father was scared enough to shout and holler at her, keep her from ever spending a second alone, while she couldn't find a single clue as to what would make him think as much when it came to Harry. If she were being honest, she found him to be a better man than her sister's husband, and yet her father had been more than happy for Arabeth when she announced her engagement. Was her head truly so high up in the clouds that she could miss something so terribly wrong with Harry? 

More than once, despite promising to her father that she wouldn't attend the dinner, she had considered what it would be like to go anyway. Though that thought never made it too far as soon as she remembered just how easily information like that would spread through the village—everyone was too nosy for their own good and would love to share a sighting of her up at the castle despite her vow. Besides, as dumbfounded as she was when it came to the aversion some felt to Harry, she couldn't deceive her father any more than she already had.

She loved and cared about her father, even if they were on the opposite sides of so many debates these days. He worried about her beyond reason at times, but she had to understand him. Even if that meant skipping out on the dinner party and going against the romantic heart sitting in her chest.

"Right, (Y/N)?" Lucy bubbled.

"Right," (Y/N) blindly answered, blinking out of her head. She didn't have a single idea of what exactly she was agreeing to, but it made Lucy happy. 

She had given the right answer.

That was all that mattered.

—————

Twirling around on ornately beaded shoes, (Y/N) looked up in wonder at the castle walls covered in gorgeous, hand-painted patterns. Her dress fanned out around her like creamy frosting on a tea cake. From steps away, she could feel Harry's eyes on her as she traipsed around his home, adoring each and every detail she found. 

"There is more, if you are ready to move on?" he offered, bouncing his eyebrows as if to tell her that she definitely wants to be ready to move on. She couldn't imagine what else he could show her on this tour that could top the places that had already blown her mind.

Nonetheless, she placed her palm in his offered hand, biting back a smile at the feel of his cool skin. 

He guided her through the halls until they hit the back door. Outside, a garden awaited. Trees full of dripping wisteria greeted her, the lilac shining like the moon above. Lines of honeyed foxglove and velvet roses drew the boundaries around a perfect lawn. He pulled her along with him to the middle, beams of moonlight highlighting the pale shade of green he had dressed in for the occasion.

"Dance with me?" he asked her, coal eyes adoring over her features. 

All it took was a nod of her head before she was pulled towards him, a symphony striking up without warning. 

He twirled her through the grass, fallen wisteria petals kicking up around her gown, the roses swaying as if reaching out to touch them. Harry looked like a prince, complete with soft hands and a tender smile. 

After twirling enough to get a giggle in her chest and head turning, Harry pulled her to his chest, settling down. 

"I have missed you so, darling," he crooned, lips by her ear, "I fear I can no longer wait such stretches between seeing you—I don't have the strength to deprive myself." Looking up at him, she saw deep shadows cast across one half of his face while the other was bathed in the pastel light of the stars. "You take up more and more of my mind everyday." 

An easy grin took place on her lips. He thought about her as much as she did he?

"Kiss me, darling." 

Eagerly stretching to the tips of her toes, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to pucker her lips. She could feel the tip of his nose grazing her own, skin chilled against her heat. 

The faintest brush of his lips against hers, lashes fluttering—

Breathing in a gasp, (Y/N) was pulled from her dreams. Despite her stilted breathing, her heart had never been so steady in her chest.

While she tried to never read too much into her dreams, she couldn't help but to feel as if this night had been a sign. She had just decided that tomorrow night, she would stay home as usual, skipping the immaculate dinner at the Count's home, only to find herself touring his grounds in her dreams. 

She was supposed to join the fray tomorrow, she cemented. She would find a way to keep the event from her father, from the nosy neighbors, anything to keep the night from souring. 

So many variables sung through her, asking how at all she would make it up to the castle without an escort, how she would even skirt past her father in the first place, how, how, how. (Y/N) ignored them all for the time being, instead allowing a smile to settle on her features as she laid back. 

This time tomorrow, she would hopefully be in his arms.

—————

"Goodnight," (Y/N) pleasantly chirped, accepting her father's hug and kiss on the forehead. 

"Goodnight, love." His parting words were the last she heard from him before they both retreated to their separate bedrooms. 

The moon was bright in the sky as she closed the door to her bedroom. With her window open just a crack, there was little sound tittering through the village. The only vestiges of the busy Friday came from the tavern down the block that was just beginning to gear up for the night. 

While the prospect of others milling about the center of town was a worrying obstacle, (Y/N) was grateful for the kind of cover their presence would offer. The dinner party was set to begin in an hour, and she was going to have to sneak through town and up the winding path to the castle. 

There was no way she was going to make it on time, given the fact she had to wait to ensure her father was truly asleep, ready herself to attend such an event, and make the trip sans carriage. It wasn't an impossible list of tasks, she just hoped that she would still make it in time for dessert. 

Creeping across her room as quietly as possible, (Y/N) tried to prep herself as much as she could without alerting any of the creaky floorboards or sweeping too quickly through her room. She couldn't be sure exactly what her father could hear from his quarters. She couldn't risk him entering and finding her going against his direct wishes of staying away from the castle.

It wasn't until the only blinks of light came in the form of twinkling stars and a sliver of the moon, that (Y/N) was both ready and almost positive that her father was well asleep. She couldn't be completely sure of the latter unless she waltzed into the bedroom and saw him asleep with her own eyes, leaving her to assume the snoring she heard wasn't just an elaborate ruse on his part. Having raided her closet, attempting to find her most lavish of pieces, she was left in a plain purple dress with small beading here and there—it was the same gown she had worn to her sister's wedding, though it was nowhere near as ornate as what she could remember of Harry's estate. She hoped she would still be found acceptable at least. 

Donning her cloak, she took the first step in her plan. Every move she made was calculated and careful as she pried open her window enough to slip through. Dangling her feet over the edge, she felt around for the small ledge offered underneath her window from the sloped awning that wrapped around the building. It wasn't anywhere near stable enough to hold her weight for long, but it was enough to help her down before skirting towards more stable avenues. 

Her skirt caught on the sill for a lingering moment, keeping her from landing as gracefully as she had hoped on the textured ledge. With the heels of her boots clattering against the side of her home, (Y/N) cringed with her eyes crinkling closed. She could feel her heart in her ears, pumping against the confines of her throat as she waited for the slam of her father's door. Long, laborious moments passed before she realized with flooding relief that she had garnered no attention; her father was still well asleep and the patrons of the pub kept up their own noise down the street. She allowed herself then to carefully slide down the uneven awning on her bottom, until she could safely hop down to the soft soil at the back of her home. 

The landing was nowhere near graceful, but it was silent. Straightening up and brushing off the debris that landed on her gown, (Y/N) allowed a small sense of accomplishment to take her. For her first time sneaking away, she had done alright for herself. 

Peering at her herb garden instinctively, she could make out the gaze of her moon-eyed black cat. The kitten played with the bugs floating around, stopping for a moment to match (Y/N)'s eyes. 

A small smile perked over her lips. She could only take this as a good sign—she was doing what she was meant to tonight. 

The first few strides away from her home were done as quietly as possible, with her head down and hood of her cloak on. There was nothing going on in her head other than the hope and prayers that she would make it out of this without being caught. She wished the most pleasant and calming dreams upon her father, anything to keep him deeply in his sleep. 

It was when she had cleared the block of her home without a single person spotting her that she had picked up the pace. The event had to have started at least a half an hour ago, and she had to hustle there if she wanted to experience any of the get-together before the festivities ended. If she was quick, she could make it to the castle within the hour. 

That was if the dark didn't scare her off first, of course. 

That juvenile fear followed her on her trek, breathing down her neck enough to push her into bursts of jogging over the path until she felt as if she had outran her invisible enemy. More than once, glancing towards the woods that weren't that far from the path, her active imagination was sparked, showing her all the things she hoped she would never truly see. 

Forcing herself to keep her focus, (Y/N) did her best to keep her head down and attention placed on the tail end of the party she was eager to catch. Working over the steep hills and sloping declines, she attempted to push herself to go as fast as possible while still keeping her breath in her corset. Every time she looked ahead, she allowed a small celebration knowing that the castle was looming closer and closer with every pace. 

As time ticked on and a bead of sweat dropped down the back of her dress, (Y/N) could only hope she made it in time and wasn't turned away despite the disheveled state she would no doubt turn up in. 

Her legs pumped harder at the thought.

—————

(Y/N) didn't have much memory tied to the lawn of the castle from the last time she had visited. She wasn't even conscious during the arrival, and her departure had seen her entirely wrapped up in Harry himself. This left the sight of the foliage around the otherwise dreary exterior quite the sight. 

As if she had conjured it herself, Harry had what could only be described as a grove of wisteria trees surrounding the grounds. Lavender petals swept across the ground, leaving what emulated a floral moat around the castle itself. From down in the village, she couldn't glimpse any of this, their forest having cut off sight of the magnificence. It was along the facade of the home that she saw long flower beds filled with the gaping mouths of foxglove stalks, blood red roses with thorn laden stems, and bushels of small white flowers growing from purple spotted stems. Hemlock, she knew them to be called—another poisonous variant Harry had unwittingly planted. 

Out front, there wasn't a single carriage or horse awaiting its master's arrival. She wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but maybe the evening was going to drag so long that everyone's transportation had been shooed away for the time being. 

Scaling the sloping hill that led up to the grandiose entrance of the castle, (Y/N)'s huffed breath created small puffs of white in front of her. Despite the chilled temperature, she was still overheated rom her strenuous trek all the way up. 

Approaching the door, she gave herself a moment to primp over the details of her appearance. Pulling her hood from her head, she attempted to smooth out her hair, hoping the twine she had holding back specific strands could hold for a bit longer. Dabbing at her features with the neck of her cloak, she tried to eradicate any sweat that had prickled her features. Though she knew she was dressed nowhere near as nicely as she figured Harry's other friends would be, she still brushed her hands down her dress in a final act before raising her hand to knock at the door. 

Her heartbeat stilled in her chest as she waited. 

When she first heard the click of the knob on the other side, she immediately straightened her posture. 

While there wasn't much she could expect, given there was nothing there for her to compare this evening to, (Y/N) definitely hadn't anticipated having Harry be the one to greet her. After finally meeting one of his staff, he had thought the footman that had delivered her invitation would be the one to deal with the menial task of welcoming her in (or shooing her away). 

Instead, she was gifted with the sight of Harry in an all black getup. The only pops of color came in the form of a forest green cravat and the hint of rouge on his lips. She shied away at the thought of the flush coming from the mouth of a young woman. His skin was just as creamy as she remembered, the planes of his face cut and severe. Nonetheless, when he looked at her, softened edges jumped out, gentling even his dark gaze. 

Making an effort to keep herself from floating over to him as if a moth to a black flame, (Y/N) rooted herself in her spot. "I am so sorry I'm late," she offered, her voice a bit watery and uneven, "I hope you can still accept me, despite the hour." 

The smile that had filled her dreams bloomed across Harry's features, his rouged lips acting like rose petals. 

"You are not late at all," he told her, eyes bright and dazzling, "I could never start without you, my guest of honor." 

(Y/N) felt flushed as he welcomed her in with a flourish, bowing out of the way as if she had any right to that caliber of greeting. 

"Guest of honor?" she asked, stepping over the threshold with shy paces. If she had known as much she would have ran less and dressed nicer. 

"Did I not tell you?" he smiled, shutting the door behind her as she untied the neck of her cloak, "I thought I had put that on every invitation." 

"I think it may have slipped your mind," she told him, playing along with his game. 

Shrugging, he gave her a roguish smile, taking her cloak only to throw it across the back of a lounger planted in her foyer. "It may have." Sidling up next to her, he offered his arm for her to take. (Y/N) settled her hand in the crook of his elbow, biting back the fluttering grin that plucked at her lips. "I suppose we have time for that tour now that you're here, right?" 

Instead of following right after him, (Y/N) turned to him with confusion knitting her brows. She knew he had to be a bit unconventional given his reclusive status, but she figured he knew better than this. 

"But, your guests. Should we not join them for dinner?" 

Amusement lit up his features, shatters of green appearing in his irises. Dipping his chin as he looked at her, he whispered, "May I share a secret with you?" 

(Y/N) couldn't help but to fall into a conspiratorial role with him. She had hoped she would earn a chance to learn everything about him. "Of course, you may." 

Harry huffed a laugh at her intrigue. Ducking his head, he positioned his mouth by her ear. He was close enough she could feel a chill radiating from his skin, his breath fanning across her own. 

"I only invited you." 

Rearing back, (Y/N) felt both flattered and bewildered by his admission. "But," she started, searching his eyes for any kind of tease, "I thought this was supposed to be a party. It's not much of one if there's only me." 

He gave her a shrug, shoulder bouncing with her hand still settled in the bend of his elbow. "Why would I invite others if I am only wishing to see you?" 

Flattery won out over the bewilderment she felt then, a shy smile taking her features. The only way she knew she wasn't dreaming was the degraded state of her dress—she always dressed herself immaculately in her imagination. 

"I am especially happy I could make it, then," she decided, peeking up at him through the fan of her lashes.

The feel of his gaze tracing over her face had (Y/N) straightening her posture with a tickle going down her spine. It was if he were taking note of everything, keeping her expressions to himself for later. A pleased smile plucked at the corner of his lips at whatever he found as he dropped his gaze down her neck. 

"I am, too; more than you know," he shared after a heartbeat, collecting himself before setting his gaze forward. He bobbed his arm under her grip, edging her towards the grand. "Shall we?" 

Though she felt a touch of deja-vu, finding herself in another predicament where she was unchaperoned with Harry at her side once more, (Y/N) was beginning to no longer care what even her father would say should he catch her. No wonder Harry kept to himself and did as he pleased—it was rather satisfying. 

With the silence their only companion, she nodded her head. 

"We shall." 

A dazzling smile spread over his lips. 

—————

(Y/N) was enchanted as she traipsed through Harry's home, her hold on him being the only thing keeping her from being lured away by whatever trinket or art piece that caught her eye. He pointed things out as they went, allowing her to fawn over the grandness he lived in. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a fond smile on his lips as he watched her. Though she didn't have an exact idea of what it was like to go on a promenade through royal grounds for a courting date, she figured this is what it felt like. 

His home reflected his personal taste for dark colors and luxurious details. Vases full of the purple blossom she had found out front lined the halls, mixing with the musk of the familiar herbs she sold to him. Deep greens seemed to be the running theme through the color scheme, allowing any other hue to emulate a bloom through the brush of the forest floor, or the night sky peeking through the canopy of trees. There were rooms upon rooms shielded behind heavy walnut doors, no less than a handful down each hall he took her to. There were too many for (Y/N) to keep track of, though Harry seemed to know exactly what was behind each door without a moment's thought; even when she swore they had been turned around and looped in a circle, he knew just where they were with a description of every hidden room. 

With the sheer amount of space he was showing her, Harry didn't have time to show her every single room, to push open the door and introduce her to the space, instead offering the highlights as they went. (Y/N)'s favorites came in the form of a budding library (the walls were complete shelves along with freestanding cases that cozied up a sitting area in the middle; the shelves held enough books to keep anyone busy for over a year but there was still room to grow, giving the possibility to read for a lifetime when full), an adorably grey tea room, and a painter's studio set up for portraits. Even with those spaces that took (Y/N)'s breath and sparked a world of imagination, her most preferred spot was the newly erected structure out behind the castle. It was a greenhouse, he'd said. An entire home the size of her own flat with the sole purpose of nursing and growing any and every kind of plant. 

"It's a budding interest of mine," he said when they had stopped to admire the glass-paneled house through a stretching window of the castle, "You've inspired me." 

It was like he knew that would have her blood warming and her teeth sinking into the pillow of her bottom lip. 

Soon enough they turned down a hallway familiar to (Y/N). This was the same wing that housed her room he boarded her in during the storm. 

"Remember this?" he prodded with raised brows, taking her down the walkway. 

Tipping her head back, she set her sights on the ceiling. Above was the same muted floral mural that had been painted across the rest of the castle ceiling. With her eyes following the thorned vibes through the different blooms, (Y/N) absently nodded her head. 

"This is where my room is." 

It wasn't until she heard his huffed laugh that she realized what she had said. Her eyes rounded out in horror with embarrassment warming her skin. 

"I-I'm so sorry—I misspoke—"

"It's alright," he soothed her, flexing his arm under her hold, "You are the only guest to have ever stayed in this room, so it is yours in my eyes as well."

Harry led her towards the chambers, pushing open the door as if it was another new space for her to explore. Inside, it was just as she remembered, thick velvets and cozy furs. Another bouquet of flowers was delicately perched on the table as if in wait for her. The only difference came in the ornate wardrobe that was now pushed against the wall in front of the four-poster bed. The doors were wide open, showcasing whatever hung inside though from where she stood, (Y/N) couldn't see a single stitch of what it was. 

"Go take a look," he told her, dropping his arm as he urged her forward. 

Without the anchor of his body, (Y/N) drifted towards the open wardrobe, her hands a bundle at her waist. When she saw what exactly had been showcased inside, she felt her jaw fall into a gape. 

Hung up on a satin wrapped hanger was the most gorgeous gown she had ever seen. The fabric was glimmering and slick like silk, redder than anything she had ever seen—as if the fibers had been dyed with fresh blood. The skirt was full, layers of crinoline underneath though the overlay still draped and folded atop the filler. The bodice was a stiff corset, cut with scooping neckline that made (Y/N) want to blush at what it would look like on, tapering straps holding the whole garment upright on the hanger. She kept herself from reaching out to turn the dress, though she wanted to know if she really did see the edge of a bow stationed at the waist for it there was even more dress to be fawned over.

"What do you think?" Harry prodded, his voice closer behind her than she remembered. 

She kept her eyes forward, on the crimson masterpiece. She could only imagine how long it would take to craft something so stunning. 

"It is gorgeous," she sighed. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she turned to look at him with a pleasant smile on her lips. She wasn't here as the guest of honor to give out her fashion advice. "Just like the rest of your home," she recovered as if she hadn't been standing, staring at the dress for a handful of minutes, "Breath-taking." 

His pale lavender lids were on display as he looked at her through the fan of his lashes, a huff of laughter falling from his lips. "Thank you," he told her, "But, what about the gown?" 

"Oh," she sounded, happily taking the excuse to lay her eyes upon the dress once more. Was it possible more of the skirt had unfurled, as if the fabric was closer to that of a blooming rose than a stationary garment? "I've never seen anything more beautiful," she shared honestly, "It would be impossible to find anything to compare." 

"You won't have to worry about that," he mused, stepping around her to pull the hanger from the rod. "Since this one is yours already." 

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped at his declaration. Her eyes downturned as she took in the full of the gown, unsure of what exactly to say to such a claim. 

"I-I," she floundered, unable to find her words, "I'm sorry?" 

Harry looked genuinely pleased with her reaction, proud of himself for finding something she clearly loved so much. "I had this made for you," he told her, presenting the gown to her as he held it up, "When I decided that I wanted to invite you over, I figured I couldn't exactly celebrate my guest of honor without a gift. I hope I didn't assume too much, but I thought you might even like to wear it this evening." 

She had been struck speechless as she listened. Not once had she ever received a gift so grand, so gorgeously outside of her means. 

"But, please," Harry continued when she didn't give an answer, his expression falling some though he tried to hide it, "Do not take this as something you have to accept if you do not want it. You look wonderful already—heartbreakingly so, if I'm honest—and I do not want to force you to change if you'd rather not." 

Unable to hold back her own plume of laughter, (Y/N) shook her head. In what world would her refashioned nightgown look heartbreakingly wonderful? As she had said before, there was nothing that could compare to this dress. 

There had to be etiquette that came with accepting a gift of this caliber, but (Y/N) preferred to use her ignorance to her advantage at the moment. It couldn't be considered too offensive if she loved something he had made just for her. 

"I love it," she reiterated, sneaking a cautious hand out to trace her fingertips over the silken fabric, "I would love to wear it tonight, Harry." 

He brightened immediately at her acceptance, relief touching his features now that he was no longer floundering over his present. "I'm glad," he cemented, laying the garment on the edge of the bed with a flourish, "I will give you a moment to change before we start for dinner, if that's alright?" 

While the draw of the gown was significant, (Y/N) kept her eyes on the man who had given it to her. A giddy smile was on her lips as she looked up at him. With this gift, she would almost look as if she belonged at his side—it would make sense to see her on his arm to a stranger's eyes. 

"Thank you, Harry."

Bowing out of the room, he stopped to tip his head to her. "It is my pleasure, darling." 

—————

Having had enough practice with tying her own corsets and stuffing herself into various dresses for church and other village-wide occasions after her sister moved away, (Y/N) didn't take much time to change into the crimson couture. She had lingered over the process a bit, savoring the feel of the expensive fabric and the novelty tying system on the back (there really was a bow at the bustle, too!), but she had been more excited to meet with Harry once again. Once she had the dress adorning her body—the piece a perfect fit—, she had spotted a few extra pieces lying around the wardrobe that she couldn't help but to use to her advantage. 

A pair of beaded red slippers were snug in the corner of the wardrobe, levels above what she currently had on her feet and had trekked up to his castle in. On a shelf built in above the rod the dress had previously been hung up on, were a pair of long white gloves—the kind (Y/N) could only picture on a princess. She couldn't help herself as she drew on the gloves, the satin glimmering alongside her dress. Using the twine she already had in her hair, she tried to twist her strands into something more elaborate to match her new attire. When she finished, she had settled on an updo, keeping everything out of the way as to show off the gown in its entirety. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, (Y/N) had never seen herself in such a light. The scooping neckline of the dress showed off more skin than she knew a woman could even show in public, the swells of her breasts pushed up and swelling over the corset. The skirt draped itself over her form, creasing and folding in waves that flourished out before hitting the ground. Turning to the side, she could glimpse the bow that had been fastened to the bustle of her dress, a detail she loved more than she had thought. Her gloves came up to the mid of her bicep, the addition making her feel more regal than she had any business to. She felt the only thing missing was a rouge to be swiped over her lips and a red flush to her cheeks. 

Leaving behind her now designated room, her rudimentary gown left behind in a puddle on the floor, (Y/N) half expected Harry to be stationed across the hall from her like the last time she had emerged. Instead, she found herself alone in the stretching corridor. Her heels clicked over the floor as she made her way down. 

While she had already had an eyeful of the space the pair of times she had been escorted down this same hall, she still found something new to look at with every turn of her head. If not for the fact Harry had to be waiting for her on the other side of the castle, she could have luxuriated for hours here. 

Traipsing through for the first time on her own, (Y/N) noticed small details she had overlooked in Harry's presence—particularly the lack of staff. Other than the footman she had seen a week prior, there didn't seem to be anyone else here with Harry despite the size of his home. She would have figured there was a team of people, different departments and leads that would have been tasked with taking care of the grounds, the different wings, everything. And yet, she seemed to be the only beating heart around. 

Perhaps he wanted to have privacy for the night, she figured. Harry definitely was the type to request something of the sort. 

Retracing her steps until she found the same set of grand stairs Harry had escorted her down after she recovered from her fainting spell during the storm, (Y/N) was proud of herself for navigating the maze that was this castle. Just as she crested the mezzanine before the final set of steps to the ground floor, she caught sight of her waiting prince. 

Harry seemingly hadn't realized she was there as she caught him cozying up to a familiar black cat. She could hear the low murmurs of his croons to the moon-eyed kitten, petting his fingers under the scruff of her neck while she leaned into his touch. (Y/N) couldn't contain her own coo once she saw him press a kiss between the cat's ears. 

With that, he realized he was no longer alone, having been caught doling out affection to what (Y/N) had previously thought to be a stray. 

"(Y/N)," he started, gently setting the kitten down back on her paws before she scurried away. He still hadn't looked at her as he brushed his hands down the front of his coat, "I am so sorry. I hadn't realized you were—" 

His words were suddenly stuck in his throat when he cast his gaze upon her. 

(Y/N) have never seen him at a loss for words before, his dark eyes wide with mouth in a soft gape as looked at her. While she had felt his eyes on her before, this moment was different than what she had experienced prior. It was as if his hands were on her, fingertips glancing down her throat, sweeping over her collarbones and cleavage. Her bare skin was chilled where she swore she felt his eyes linger, goosebumps awakening. Was this how he felt when she looked at him? Could he feel how drawn to him she was? Was her romantic heart too high up in the clouds as she assumed that he could experience that similar warm chest and twirling gut that she did when she saw him?

There were intentions behind his eyes—more than what was acceptable for him to say out loud. 

"You look... I don't think there are any words that could describe how you look right now, actually." 

Despite the shy peal of laughter his words elicited from (Y/N), he was thoroughly serious as he spoke. The sentiment only made her heart flutter in her chest.

"Thank you," she smiled, descending the stairs. Harry didn't hesitate to offer her his arm when she reached the landing, pride puffing his chest when she took it without question. "I hope it's alright I'm using a little extra I found in the wardrobe." 

"It is more than alright," he beamed at her, dazzling smile to match the fractures of green swimming to the surface of his coal eyes, "Everything in there is yours now." 

"You don't mean that," she laughed off, diligently following him as he brought her to the dining room. 

"The whole wing could be yours if you asked," he countered, his offer seemingly serious despite his grin. 

Before she could argue, he pushed open a grand door, leading her into the dining room. Inside, a long table sat at the center of the room. Ornate candles lit the space, showcasing hints of gold and shining onyx among the otherwise muted room. On the table was a feast (Y/N) had never seen the likes of before. 

Meats, cheeses, wines, and breads were placed all throughout on pristine china. Steam rolled off the dishes in alluring waves, like the smoke from a candle freshly snuffed. How his staff had pulled something off so elaborate without making a single noise, she couldn't comprehend, but she wasn't about to start asking questions in the face of greatness. 

"My goodness," she murmured. Looking at this spread, she was suddenly grateful that she had taken such an exhaustive route up here. She had all the room in the world to try everything in front of her.

"I was unable to ask for your favorites before tonight, but I hope you'll find something to your liking," Harry prattled, much too modest given the sight before them. 

"I have no doubt," (Y/N) responded, allowing Harry to guide her to an empty chair at the head of the table. 

Once he helped her settle in, he took his own seat on the opposite end of the table. "I hope you don't mind," he started, a goblet in hand already filled with a deep wine, "But I told my staff to take the night off. We'll have to serve ourselves, but this way we'll have more privacy." A beat passed before a furrow appeared in his brows. "Unless you would prefer their presence. I know this is our first formal meeting, so..." 

"No, no, it's alright," she waved him off, not feeling the need to have others present while she dined with him. Besides, she would hate to have been promised the night to herself only to be called back. "I think we'll be able to keep a handle on ourselves."

(Looking down, she just missed the way Harry looked at her with his dark eyes gleaming and a shrewd curl to his lips at her words).

While it was surely odd for Harry, (Y/N) didn't mind serving herself—she did it every day, anyway. With her eyes bigger than her stomach, she couldn't help but to overfill her plate with the way she wanted a bite of everything. Before she knew it, there were three different cheeses, more kinds of dinner bread than she knew even existed, and helpings of figgy chicken, creamy potatoes, and rosemary scented greens. If she could get away with it, she would be grabbing seconds. 

Flicking her gaze up when she realized just how rude it must be to be so engrossed in her meal when her host and sole company was just across the table, she found his eyes already on her over the rim of his wine glass. The crystal just barely hid the amused curl of his lips. 

"I apologize," she mumbled, dropping her gaze though she could still feel his eyes on her features. 

"No need," he said, waving her off, "I'm glad you want to try everything." 

Eased some, she picked up one of the gleaming silver forks complimenting her place setting and began picking at her food. "Do you have any favorites?" she questioned, feeling a bit silly to be asking what his favorite food was. 

He shrugged in response, canting his head some as he raised his wine glass. "I tend to favor the wine at a dinner party, if 'm honest." She watched as he took another sip, the deep red color seemingly staining the crystal. The center of his lips even seemed to take on the dye, emulating that tint of rouge he had started the night with. The wine lingered in the bowl of his glass, seemingly thicker than any spirit she had seen before. "I'd rather hear about your favorites, (Y/N)," Harry said, tipping his head towards her with his features lit up with the amber candlelight. 

A small curl tugged at her lips then. It was an interesting feeling, being so drawn to him and finding comfort in his presence, then remembering that he didn't even know the color of the rainbow she preferred or the season she thrived the most under. Trivialities didn't seem so important when there was that innate need to be around him. 

"What do you want to know?" she preened, unsure of where to start when it came to herself. 

The reflection of the candlelight emulated stars in his eyes as he fixed his gaze to her. His eyes felt like a pair of hands on her body once more. 

It was only when he flicked them up to match her own, that he spoke again: 

"Everything." 

—————

"... I had never seen my sister so mad at me before," (Y/N) laughed, setting her chin in her hand, unconsciously leaning towards Harry from where he relocated to sit at her side. 

The dinner part of the evening had ended some time ago, (Y/N) satisfied with her fill while Harry nursed his never-ending glass of wine. The attention had shifted then, turning to any anecdote of information he could pull out of her on his quest to learn the everything he requested to know about her. Soon enough the space between served to be too much for either of their liking, ending with Harry sidling up beside her, taking one of the unoccupied seats at her side. The intensity of his gaze was unwavering as he listened to anything and everything she had to say, unwilling to miss a single detail no matter how minute the story it was that she shared. More than once (Y/N) had attempted to redirect some of the conversation to him, only for him to casually mention the kinds of travels he'd been on and the people he'd met before he brushed it off in favor of hearing more of her voice. She wondered if he even knew just how intriguing he was, how fascinating his own stories would be to someone like her, who had stayed in the same village all her life. 

"I could imagine," he smiled at her, the cut planes of his features having melted down into soft curves and rounded edges, "You sound like you were a little terror." 

(Y/N) was prepared to counter his teasing remark when the echoing chime sounded from the grandfather clock stationed at the head of the room. The heavy gonging detailed out the time having turned into midnight—much later than (Y/N) had anticipated staying out when she had snuck out at nine. 

Her shoulders fell when she realized that her night had to be coming to an end soon.

"What is wrong?" Harry asked, picking up on the decline in her expression. 

"It's getting very late—later than I thought," she started, turning to him with regret ready on her features, "I won't be able to stay much longer if I don't want anyone noticing I'm gone." 

Harry finally seemed to pick up on the time then. She had shyly shared with him earlier that she hadn't exactly gained permission to join him for the evening, and had still gone anyway, making it so her cover for the night had to be pristine should she want to keep herself out of trouble. 

"I suppose it is rather late," he mused, a pinch appearing between his brows as he stared at the clock, "But, we still have some time, don't we? I don't know if I'm ready to send you home yet." 

The flattery went straight through the ladder of her ribs and to her heart as she listened to him. While she knew better than to linger longer than what she could handle, she knew she wasn't ready for the evening to end either. 

"I just do not want to scare my father again, not after I had disappeared during the storm." 

"Was he very upset?" he asked, concern in his eyes when he turned to face her. 

(Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth. It wasn't a particularly light topic bringing up the reaction her neighbors had when it came to him. "I hadn't told him that I was with you that night, but I think he knew anyway. There are some... gossips in the village that I think tried to convince him that you had hurt me or tried to keep me away from home." 

His brow creased further at her words. "I am well aware that there are some... unsavory attitudes present when it comes to me and the fact that I don't associate much with the day-to-day of the village and that there have been concerns when it comes to what is being found in the woods, but," Harry paused, his gaze intent on hers with the shattered green of his eyes floating in his irises, "You know I would never hurt you, right, (Y/N)? I care about you—more than I probably should, but the last thing I would ever want is to bring you harm." 

She was not the person that needed to be convinced of his intentions, (Y/N) having seen the genuine concern in his eyes when she woke from her fainting spell, having felt his soft touch, having heard the gentle way he spoke to her as if she were a wounded animal. She knew where his intentions lied and she felt safe within them, but she was still taken aback at the clear set of his eyes, honesty lining his features. She had never doubted him before, but now there was no room for any kind of counter argument that could wiggle in the back of her mind. 

"I believe you," she told him, her voice a sudden whisper as if sharing a secret not to be heard by the walls, "I know you better than they do, and I'll trust your intentions over any rumor. I trust you." 

Harry's eyes rounded out as he listened to her, taking in her genuine take the same way she had his. 

"Thank you," he smiled, matching the soft volume of her voice. Glancing once more at the clock, Harry stood to the full of his height with his hand outstretched towards her, "I don't want to land you in any trouble, but if you have some extra time to spare with me, there was one more place I wanted to show you before the night is over." 

She didn't have to think before she was placing her palm in his, the chill of his skin leaving no other effect but goosebumps on her own. 

—————

(Y/N)'s heels clicked on the glossy, black floor under their feet as Harry escorted her to a grand set of double doors they had initially passed by during his tour. He held a proud smile on his lips when he pushed the door open, the hinges gliding without a noise.

Stepping over the threshold, (Y/N) was drawn in by the sprawling ballroom inside. It was the kind of space that would fit in perfectly for royalty, she thought as she fawned over the sparkling floors and high ceilings. Green and gold accented the space, more flowers spilling out here and there. The walls were elaborately furnished with filigree and art, mirrors strategically placed as if the space didn't look big enough on its own. 

"I've never actually used this room before," Harry murmured, following after her as she took in the space. 

"How could you not?" she answered in awe, twirling around in search of every detail, "I would host parties every night with something like this." 

There was amusement in his tone when he responded, "I think it's rather obvious that I didn't care much for other's company—except for you, of course." 

Her skin warmed at his words. He was teasing her again. She didn't know what to say, only biting back a shy smile as she settled on her feet, turning to find him already looking at her with a clear gaze. 

"I was hoping, before the night is over, that you might dance with me." 

Harry offered her a pale hand, his features softened in wait for her response. 

She didn't have to think before she was placing her palm over his, fingers curling into a hold. "But there's no music?" she said, canting her head. 

Pulling her towards him, Harry matched her gaze. "That's nothing to worry about," he shared, his voice suddenly a low secret between the two.

While (Y/N) didn't exactly understand how he was going to replicate any music without a single musician present, she didn't have time to ask before he was placing a firm hand on her waist and clasping their joined hands in a stiff hold. Instinctively, (Y/N) settled her own hand on his shoulder falling in line with his moves. 

(Y/N) was far from well versed in the proper moves needed to pull off any kind of elaborate routine, but as she looked into his eyes, she didn't need to think before she fell in line with Harry's guidance. After only a moment, the clacking of her heels the only noise, suddenly the ballroom was filled with the delicate singing of a violin and thrumming keys from a pianoforte. 

She wanted to turn her head, to see if there was a hidden stage that she had missed, but she held her gaze steady with Harry's. A dazzling smile pulled at his features, his hand squeezing at her waist as he twirled them around. 

"Better?" he murmured, his voice mixing with the music. 

She could only manage a nod of her head, her own lips beginning to curl to mimic the set of his own. 

Taking a deep breath into her lungs, (Y/N) dropped herself squarely in the moment. This was everything her romantic heart had always desired: flourishing music while she twirled in a gown made only by the finest hands, a handsome, heart-fluttering partner at her side. Poems were written with the sole purpose of attempting to put into words what the feeling she had in her chest was like. Paintings were made depicting the light that came with dancing with one's beloved. Her own dreams urged her to find something like this in her lifetime. 

Time stood still where she was, feeling the cool weight of Harry's hand in her, and the effortless gliding he evoked from her. The music swelled and dipped, taking her through the seasons with Harry twirling and holding her every hour. It could have been days that she stayed there, her eyes fluttered closed with a quiet smile on her face, and she would have barely realized. 

Blinking her eyes open, she saw Harry looking down at her. This was her one—the man in her sonnet, the one in her portrait, who she'd seen in her dreams. 

"I wish I knew what the inside of your head was like," he told her, drawing her away from him only to twirl her in a swirl of crimson. He brought her back to his chest, his hand on her waist slipping to loop around the curve—highly inappropriate though (Y/N) wouldn't dream of stopping him. 

"It is nothing special," she shied away from his words, turning her head as he led them around in the ballroom in a structured circle.

"I doubt that," he said, dipping lower until his lips were at her ear, "You are nothing less than absolutely special, (Y/N)." 

Harry drew her away from him once more, holding his hand up above her head as she was twirled. As she spun, she just barely caught her reflection in the gilded framed mirror hung on the wall. The slash of her red dress caught her eye first, bright against the deep green and dark shades splashed throughout the space. 

But the most jarring part of the sight was the fact that she was dancing alone. 

Harry was nowhere to be seen in that small glimpse, her hand holding nothing but the thin air. 

Before she could truly catch any kind of detail, she had been spun away and back to Harry's chest. 

Not even a single heartbeat of time had been missed while (Y/N)'s skin erupted into goosebumps. What an odd trick of the light, she thought. She must have had more wine than she initially figured.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, keeping her firm against his chest though now there was a cream between his brows. 

Shaking her head, (Y/N) cast that glimpse out of her head. It wouldn't have been that hard for him to blend in with the rest of the ballroom, she argued, with the way he was dressed in all black. 

"Yes, I'm alright. Just a little dizzy, I think," she laughed, tightening her hold on his hand. If she really was growing that dizzy and the effects of the wine hitting her that hard, she was going to have to make a real effort to stay upright. 

"Stay close, darling," Harry murmured, "I've got you." 

(Y/N) all but keened at his words, doing as he said and happily staying close to him with the planes of his chest pressing against her corseted breasts. The music reached heights and valleys around them, the strings of the violin singing in a tenor (Y/N) had never dreamed of hearing so smooth. She was transfixed in the moment, twirling and stepping, allowing Harry to guide her every which way. Even when her inadequacy showed, he kept his hold on her strong, catching her through the stumbles with a small smile as if a promise to keep that misstep between them and this empty ballroom. 

A gasp left her lips when Harry stopped them only to fluidly dip her backwards with his face hovering over hers. He held her steady with his arms turning into steady bars around her back and her own looping around his neck. Her gasp turned into a fluff of giggles leaving her throat, never having felt anything like this before. Harry laughed with her, lingering in that stance as she dropped her head back, extending her neck with her eyes closed. 

Time stood still then, (Y/N) luxuriating in the feel of faux-floating in his arms. She swallowed when she felt the icy touch of the very tip of his nose skimming the column of her throat. She felt her lips stretch into a dreamy smile as she cracked her eyes open.

To the side of them, hanging from its gilded frame, was the opulently large mirror she had peeked at a handful of minutes prior. This time, when she peered at her reflection, she could no longer deny what she had seen before.

With her eyes wide, (Y/N) saw herself hovering in mid-air, no other soul present in the ballroom. There were indents in her dress where she knew Harry was holding her, where her skirt flared around their feet and had been pushed back by his legs. But she was the only one seen in the reflection.

Her mouth dropped into a gape, a quiet gasp falling from between her lips. 

"(Y/N)?" he started, righting her position as she went stiff in his arms. She couldn't tear her eyes off of the mirror, watching as the space around her interacted with her with phantom hands. "What is wrong? What are you—" 

In that moment, though she could only see him from the corner of her eye, she figured Harry had to have caught on to what she was seeing—or not seeing, really. 

That pause in the universe as they danced finally resumed in that moment, the trance broken. (Y/N) scrambled out of his arms, dropping her own from around his neck as she stepped back. Her heels clacked over the floor, her skirt dragging. There was no more music tinkling through the space, only echoing silence. 

A pinch knitted her brows together, her head tipping as if she could catch another angle and suddenly see Harry in the glass. 

"D-Do you see it, too?" she whimpered, hoping against all odds that she wasn't losing her mind right now. What was in that wine? 

"(Y/N)," he started, stepping towards her with the movement echoing in the silent hall, "I can explain." 

That had her whirling around in her spot, decidedly moving out of reach from. His response was far from reassuring. 

"What?" she sounded. What was there to explain? All he was supposed to tell her was that yes, he saw his reflection missing too, but that mirror had always been faulty—he was working on fixing the issue, it was nothing for her to worry about. 

This time when she looked at him, (Y/N) swore Harry's eyes had grown darker. The smatterings of green had shied away, leaving only the coal-like expanses against his pale skin. 

He was real, right in front of her. She felt the planes of his body, the strength of his grip. She had seen him through the village, let him hold her, she had seen him interact with others as well. Why couldn't the mirror see him? 

"A-Are you a ghost?" (Y/N) choked out, feeling as crazy as her question sounded. Mary and Ethel would be proud of the nonsensical explanation her brain had handed her. 

When she saw him roll his lips between his teeth, gaze flitting past her and towards the mirror at her back, (Y/N) felt her spine stiffen.

"Not quite," he started, expression grim, "It's complicated." 

While she hadn't exactly had a preferred response in mind, she figured it would have been better than a simple declaration of it’s complicated. (Y/N) began backing away from him then, clarity entering her mind in a chilling sweep. 

Her head had been so in the clouds, luxuriating amongst the swelling music and fanciful notes. She had been too preoccupied with everything Harry, the way she was drawn to him, keening under his attention and mooning over every word of flattery he gave her. Now, details began to fall into place. 

His skin, in her hand and pressed to her chest—even through layers of clothing—was cold. She had never given it much thought, just assuming that he was one of the few that ran colder than others and took the chills easier. Now, she could only see the pale pallor of his skin and the temperature and wonder how easily he would fit in with the corpses found in the forest. His eyes were always so dark, (Y/N) barely unable to differentiate the center from the iris, only when she squinted and took the time could she pick out the shades of green inside. Normal people didn't just... lose their reflection. Mirrors caught it all, no matter how dingy or foggy. Harry was invisible to the glass. 

Her eyes dropped to the center of his lips where the pillows housed a small tint, red and warm. 

"What are you?" 

When he took a cautious step towards her, (Y/N) all but stumbled back, itching to keep the current chasm of space between them. Harry stopped where he stood then, dropping his gaze from hers. 

(Y/N)'s heartbeat sounded in her ears while she awaited his response. 

"It is... hard to explain," he answered, "Can I show you something that might help? My library—I can show you there—" 

Drowning out the rest of his words over a rush of blood pumping through her body, (Y/N) stared at him. Her insides twisted as he took in more and more of him. Her father had always said that with her head so far up in the clouds, the fall was going to shatter her when it happened. It appeared that fall was happening now. 

Was he really a demon like the church women said? Was he the predator that committed those heinous acts scattered about the woods? Warnings had been everywhere: the way she was drawn to him like a moth to a singing flame, the way he reeled her in wish his unmatched beauty, and the way everyone around her seemed to know better. She had willingly walked into the lion's den, though there was no telling what kind of beast had truly laid claim to the territory. She was nothing but a stray bunny, a lamb separated from the flock, that had witless fallen into a trap. 

"(Y/N)," Harry said, his voice cutting through her whirling thoughts, "Please. Don't be afraid of me." She watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his features tight with shining eyes. "I promised you, remember? That I would never harm you. You said you believed me." 

Despite how disconnected she wanted to be, (Y/N) felt something in her chest crack as she listened to him. She was scared and confused, overwhelmed by the unknown that was standing in the room with her, but there was still the person she did know there as well. And that person looked heartbroken. 

"I just don't understand," she whimpered, fearing the volume of her own voice. 

A spark returned to him then, hearing her response. "I can explain," he said, stepping away from her towards a pitch black chaise lining the wall, "Give me a moment, and I will explain as much as I can." 

She was sure she was meant to take his lead, joining him on the velvet cushion, but her feet didn't allow more than a drag. She wanted to understand him, but she could understand him just fine without crawling in his lap. Instead, (Y/N) followed him far enough to watch as he took his seat from where she stood a meter away. 

"(Y/N)—" 

"Tell me," she started, her voice bursting through before she had given much permission, "Are you—... You're not human, are you?" 

Her words hung in the air between them, echoing through the too big, too silent ballroom. She didn't need to hear him to know what his answer was. 

"No. I'm not."

Harry had his eyes fixed on her, watching for every reaction she gave. (Y/N) wished she could have been stoic like the elder women of the village, or less reactionary like her sister, instead she was an open book doling out every reaction on a silver platter for him to consume. While she had been expecting as such, her head would never—could never—comprehend the answer he gave. 

"I am what is called a vampyr," he cautiously continued after a moment.

With her mouth agape, she watched him, waiting for more of an explanation than some unknown word. 

"What does that even mean?" she peeped when he said nothing more. 

This time, Harry avoided her eyes as he searched for the right words. He leant forward in his seat, placing his elbows on his knees as he dropped his gaze to center on the glossy floor. Only if he peeked through his lashes could he see her. 

"It means," he started, a heavy breath pushing his lungs to expand, "That, I am dead. But, I am able to be among the living." 

The edges of (Y/N)'s vision began to swirl as she tried to comprehend what he was so simply serving to her. 

Dead. 

Harry is dead. But, here he was, living and breathing, blinking with his heart steady in his chest, right in front of her. 

She breathlessly tried to ask for more information, though barely any thought came from her mouth. "Wh-W—Dead?"

Flicking his head up, Harry hesitantly matched her eyes. "My heart no longer beats, but, still, here I am," he offered, tone gentle and forgiving, "I don't know how it's possible, but I've been existing this way for a long time. I don't understand it either, (Y/N)." 

Her lungs felt stunted as she couldn't help her own eyes from dropping to his chest, where any normal human's heart would be pumping blood through full veins. She thought, if she waited long enough ,started hard enough, that she could prove him wrong somehow. What if Harry had it all wrong, that he had been convinced by someone—something—that he wasn't like anyone else? Here she could prove to him (and herself) that his heart was beating and he was alive and everything she had slowly been putting together was nothing more than the effects of too much wine and an overactive imagination. 

Alas, there was no bold evidence that his heart was hammering against his chest as hers was. Instead, he was silently still, skin pale and chilled. 

She fell to the ground then, her dress fanning around her form with her hands limp in her lap. Looking at Harry with pleading eyes, she wanted nothing more than for this to be a cruel joke. 

"Bu—Harry?" 

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry closed his eyes, unable to continue watching as she crumbled under the weight of the truth. 

"I-I'm sorry, I don't have any answers on why or how," he started, feeling as pained as she, "All I know is that I woke up this way after a night I can't remember, and have been attempting to figure it out since." 

She canted her head, observing him as he sat with his eyes shuttered. "But you... You don't look dead?" 

This seemed to be the wrong question to ask as he dropped his head, leaving (Y/N) from gleaning anything from his expression. "There are things I need to be able to maintain myself or I would wither away like any other person, but..." 

"It's complicated?" (Y/N) finished for him, feeling the lame weight of the explanation on her tongue. 

Harry nodded his head, keeping his gaze down. "It's complicated." 

(Y/N) base level instincts wanted her to run, bolt from the castle and make her way back home in a puddle of tears and seek out the shelter of her father. Harry's half-explanations and full deceptions should be enough of a warning sign to compliment the red flags others around her had seen and pushed her to acknowledge. 

Despite it all, as she sat, watching him wrestle with his speaking his own words as much as she was hearing them, she made no move to leave. Maybe she hadn't completely crashed down just yet, because she swore the longer she sat here, streaks of intrigue and curiosity sparked through her head.

Besides, through the muck and the revelations slowly sweeping over her, a near silent thought in the back of her head reminded her that he promised he'd never hurt her. If he had truly wanted to harm her, he would have done it by now, right?

"What do you mean that it's complicated?" she asked before she had even given permission for her thoughts to float around the room. 

"I have had to do things—things I am not proud of—to be able to stay alive—or whatever I am. But, I am trying to move past them and grow into something more," he told her, his words turning into a plea as he finally matched her gaze, "I promise I am different now." 

That base instinct inside of her triggered a gut feeling (Y/N) couldn't ignore. Flashes of the woman she found in the woods blinked through her memory, her nightmares intermingling with the grotesque sight. 

"The people in the woods," she murmured, unsure of what she wanted out of bringing this up. She wasn't asking, but she hoped Harry had an answer for her, though she feared what that might be. 

Harry looked to her with a clear gaze, his shoulders sloping in defeat. He looked pained as he fought to pick out the right words for her. "That is not me," he told her, though he looked far from finished, "But, it's who I used to be. I have not done... that in a very long time, but Mitchell—m-my footman—he-he's trying to learn. He doesn't know how to contain himself yet, but he will." 

Vividly, (Y/N) could recall the sight of the bloodless corpse, all color leached from the woman's features. The frayed column of her throat, ripped out of the way in favor of the flesh and muscle underneath. The woman had been deliberately stowed away, carefully placed after being mauled and used until she had nothing left to give. The memory warped until Harry was standing over the woman's body, blood cascading down his mouth and soiling his clothing

A shudder wracked down her spine.

She remembered thinking just how impossible it would be for a human to do what she had seen. 

"You've done that to others before?" she whispered, fearing how badly her voice would crack if she attempted anything louder. 

Hanging his head in shame, Harry nodded his head. "It's been almost a hundred years, but yes." 

A hundred years. 

Harry on the outside was a young man, not the kind of person that spoke of decades of his life out in the world. He showed no age, and yet, he didn't hesitate before offering a number. 

She had thought it was wild just how much he seemed to have travelled while being so young. 

(Y/N)'s world turned on its head then. She must have really downed the wine during dinner. Maybe even the scent of the wisteria and the foxglove had worked its way into her brain and was taking more and more of her sanity. 

She had to leave. 

Stumbling to her feet, (Y/N) swallowed around her dry through, her breathing coming in concerning puffs with her corset tight around her torso. 

"I need to go," she told him breathlessly, "I-I—I'm sorry, I need to leave." 

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and started out of the ballroom. She needed space, this castle was too small, the walls too tight, the corset digging in too deep. She had made it just to the double doors before she was aware of Harry's presence behind her, his steps silent over the floor. 

"(Y/N), wait," he pleaded, "I can explain everything, I-I promise. I've never had to explain to anyone who didn't already understand, but I'll learn, please give me a chance." 

Her pacing never wavered as she burst out of the ballroom, hustling through the winding halls and gloomy decor until she found herself heading towards the front door. The pounding of her feet over the glossy flooring matched that of the beating in her chest, her ribs sore and lungs aching. 

Just as she placed her hand on the door, aiming to push it open and allow herself to spill into the night, a cold hand on her shoulder stopped her. 

"(Y/N), wai—" 

Twirling around, (Y/N) startled with a gasp ripping through her throat. On instinct, the vision of the corpse in the woods in the back of her mind, she cupped her hand over her neck as if that could stop him from ripping it out. 

Harry's hand dropped from her shoulder immediately, his gaze dropping to where she had protectively clutched her throat. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, a whimper involuntarily dropping from her lips. 

He crumbled at the sight, despair washing over his features. (Y/N) didn't know what to do as he fell to his knees, looking up at her with glittering eyes, more and more shatters of green appearing. His fingers clutched at his waistcoat, skin turning bone white from the strength. 

"(Y/N)," he almost cried, "I—You have to believe me. I would never hurt you, you know that. Please, please don't be scared of me." Glittering tears pooled in his eyes. "I am more devoted to you than I think I even realized, I would sooner sacrifice myself than let anything hurt you. Please, just... I don't want to frighten you, I'm sorry." 

She was rooted in her spot as she heard his pleas over the rushing of blood in her ears. Under her palm, she could feel her pulse thrumming in her neck. 

What kind of predator was he, to crumble and bow before his prey? No vulnerability could be shown during the hunt, even from the most skilled of hunters. And yet, if Harry were the lion here, the one stalking and waiting for the moment to strike, he was doing a poor job of keeping the upper hand. With the way they were positioned—(Y/N) with her back to the door, knob under her other hand, and Harry at his knees before her,—she could easily escape before he had a chance to do anything more than to grasp at her gown before the material inevitably slipped from his hands. 

He'd had plenty of better—easier—opportunities to hurt her. Tonight alone, when he dipped her low, neck on display, as they danced in the ballroom, he could have easily made her into one of the many found in the woods. Instead, he had held her carefully, skimming his nose over the skin in an affectionate touch before pulling her to his chest. Countless times prior—the night in the storm, when she had slept so soundly in that bedroom, the night walking alone through town—he could have stolen her away without a single soul to witness. 

Instead, he had cared for her. He put her somewhere safe to wait out the storm and sleep off her panic. He had ensured she hadn't walked home alone in the dark with a rowdy tavern bubbling with drunk patrons. He had treated her like royalty all night, never once looking down on her should she not know the proper etiquette. Even now, he was pleading with her to please understand him, that he had never wanted to simply scare her. 

For a moment, she wished she could have seen what this looked like to a spectator. She wanted to know if all of her emotions were seen as plainly on her face as she felt them in her chest. The comedown was gradual and mind-clearing, but Harry stayed right where he was, patiently awaiting any kind of response she could give him.

(Y/N) had the upper hand here. 

Lowering her hand from her throat, her shoulders dropped into a declining slope. Unpinching her features while her lungs evened out. 

"I am overwhelmed, I think," she told him, swallowing down the thick lump in the throat, "And, confused. But I believe you." 

Relief came over him at once, his posture slumping as he collected himself. A beat passed before he rose to his feet, exhaustion touching at his unblemished features. 

"Thank you," he breathed, looking at her with a clear gaze and unguarded expression, "I understand. I was confused once too—it's not easy to comprehend." Wetting his lips, he tipped his chin with the downturned eyes of a scolded pup. "Perhaps, I can ready the carriage for you to make it home, and rest for the remainder of the night. And, if you are still open to seeing me again, I will give you whatever answers I have to anything you want to know." 

Too many trains of thought were passing through her head at the moment, keeping (Y/N) from giving him a clear answer. While she was sure right now that she wanted to know everything about what he was and who he was, explore the half-truths she had learned, there was no telling what kind of clarity the morning would bring. 

"Okay," she answered quietly, not wanting to give anything more away until she knew more. She made a move to step around him to which Harry caught on and allowed a wider berth for her to pass. "Let me change, and then I will be ready to leave." 

"You don't have to do that," Harry stopped her, his sullen expression returning with delicate heartbreak, "The gown is yours. You can keep it." 

When she offered him a small smile, she could see the pieces of him mending back together. "I think this may be a bit hard to travel in and hide from my father, that's all," she told him, shooting her palms over the skirt, "I will have to come by to collect it another time." 

It was like watching the sunrise the way a smile bloomed over Harry's features, dazzling and hopeful.

"Another time, then."

—————

From the carriage ride, to trekking back to her room, and finally settling in bed after doing her nightly ritual, (Y/N) had been left alone with her thoughts. 

No one had caught her, that much she knew from the fact her father was still snoring in the other room and the tavern was still bustling with no attention paid in her direction. At least, she didn't have to worry about that. That way, her head could be filled with endless questions. 

No matter how scared she had been in the moment at the castle, (Y/N) knew that she was never in any real danger. She didn't understand Harry and who he was revealing himself to be, and she doubted she ever truly would, but she knew in her heart that he was never going to harm her. The kind of man that would rather sit and speak, drop to his knees with words of devotion, couldn't be that much of a monster, could he? 

Confusion muddled her thoughts. Every time she reassured herself, she heard glimpses of the word Dead wrapped in his voice, detailing out just how his heart was still in his chest. She saw the memory of the dead woman in the woods, and the countless others she had been spared of seeing with her own eyes. While he may not be the culprit of these bodies, he had been once. 

It was an odd thing, the curiosity she felt. 

She wanted to know him. She wanted to be close to the man that she had met and practically courted with these last weeks. She wanted that man and had allowed her heart to stake a claim on him. But, she was confused with the part of him he shared tonight.

Staring at her ceiling, (Y/N) attempted to reconcile everything she knew. 

Those two facets of him could both be true, she thought. He could be the kind of creature that had done things she didn't want to fathom, while also being the kind of man that she had sought out and had embraced her in those small ways. Tonight, she had feared a threat that had been brought about by the unknown and the lack of understanding she had around him, but never once was the real Harry the thing that had frightened her. 

She could be comforted and confused by him at the same time, too. 

A rustle from the herb garden had (Y/N) tentatively peering out her window. 

Amongst the leaves and bundles was the moon-eyed cat. The same one that she had last seen in Harry's arms. 

She was going to speak to him again, she decided. There was more she had to know about him and her heart wasn't ready to shy away from him yet. 

—————

when the flower of hemlock is consumed, it can poison the lungs and cause death through suffocation.

ahhhhhh! the ballroom scene was the first thing that came to mind and inspired me to write this whole piece so that was a lot of fun to come together and I really hope you guys like it! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas or whatever you want to share please sent them in!

[sanguineterrain]

Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.

No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤

Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.

jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)

****

"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."

Beeeep!

"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."

You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.

You want your best friend back.

"Okay. Call me when you can."

You hang up and pocket your phone.

The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.

If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.

Jason had stilled, expression cold.

I don't owe you anything.

Your voice had turned wobbly then.

Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!

He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.

You're right. You deserve normal.

You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.

But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.

Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.

What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?

All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.

Screw this. You're going to his apartment.

It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.

A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"

This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.

You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.

"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"

You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.

A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.

That instantly draws their attention.

"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"

You run.

You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.

You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—

Wham!

You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.

White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.

Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.

"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.

"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"

Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.

Fuck your luck.

The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.

He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.

Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.

"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"

"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.

You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.

"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.

You start to cry, edging backward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"

You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.

Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.

"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.

"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.

Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.

"J—"

"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.

"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.

"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."

Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."

"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."

Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.

"Jay—"

"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod emphatically.

"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.

"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."

His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"

He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.

"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."

Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.

"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."

"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you. 

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that. 

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo. 

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally. 

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you. 

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.” 

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.” 

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.” 

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.” 

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.” 

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?” 

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.” 

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.” 

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.” 

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.” 

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.” 

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.” 

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.” 

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.” 

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with? 

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.” 

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.” 

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.” 

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.” 

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.