#for cool heat actions which is very rude because he's able to do them to me all the time

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

Babe I was anything BUT calm what are you talking about

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VII

Sunflower, my eyes

Want you more than a melody

Let me inside

Wish I could get to know you

Sunflower Vol. 6, Harry Styles

A/N: okay so this part was so much fun to write!! it originally was going to have four more scenes but uh. as we all know. i am very wordy. so the other scenes I have planned will have to be split into what will probably become two more parts and you guys will just have to deal with getting another two chapters 😌 but this part is really exciting because we are getting a lil bit of angst mixed in with harry’s general dumbassery!! love to see it love to hear it!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep cranking out nearly 30k every one to two weeks!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

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

word count: 26.6k

content/warnings: another good dose of denial, Fajita Friday with a side of blended margs, waking up on the wrong side of the coffin, brutal analysis of niall’s non-existent love life, ribeye!y/n x rotisseriechicken!harry, a horrible impersonation of Bob Barker, “are you there, God?  it’s me, harry,” degradation, the violation of worksafe laws through the improper use of a ladder, mild pain kink, alexa, play ‘kiss it better’ by rihanna, and the rise of kinkrry (dir. j.j. abrams)

As Harry climbs up the stairs to Y/N’s apartment the next Friday night with a bag containing tequila, orange liqueur, and limes clutched within his jeweled hand, there are two thoughts flickering through his mind.  

The first, which weighs more heavily on the vampire, is if Y/N prefers her margaritas blended or over ice, as Harry feels that tells a lot about a person, and it would be such a disappointment to realize now that Y/N isn’t a fan of the blended beverage.  The second, which should weigh more heavily on his mind if he had his priorities sorted out, is how Y/N had managed to convince him to let her cook dinner for the two of them.

In reality, it hadn’t actually taken much convincing on the mortal girl’s part at all.  When she messaged him on her lunch break earlier that day, asking what he was up to that night, Harry had sat up on his couch, drawing Niall and Xander’s attention to him in a confused manner. He’d stared at the message for only three seconds before opening his phone and pressing on her contact name.  The action had come so easily to him that he didn’t even think about hiding his eagerness to speak to her, and instead pressed his phone tight to his ear as the other line rang three times before she picked it up.

“Harry?” Her confused voice rang through his phone speaker, the sound of the bustling cafe apparent in the background. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, love. I just, uh…just wanted to talk to you, s’all.” Harry had replied, shushing the questions he could see hanging off of Niall and Xander’s lips. “How’s work today?  Busy?”

“As busy as it always is on a Friday afternoon.” Y/N answered with a sigh, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips as he heard a loud slurp through the phone, leading him to picture a stressed out Y/N sipping the last remnants of her iced latte. “But I’m over halfway through my shift, at least, so… it’s all downhill from here.  In a good way.”

Harry had nodded slowly, as if the mortal girl could see him through the phone. “I’m glad to hear that.”

His friends, however, seemed to be less glad to hear it, and paused the golf tournament that was playing on TV to stare at him with incredulous expressions on their faces. 

“Who are you talking to?” Niall had demanded, kicking his foot into Harry’s calf with more force than what was necessary. “We’re going to miss the first swing!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Xander snickered to the Irishman next to him, a devious smirk lighting up his face. “It’s that human he’s been obsessed with for the last, like, two months.  His little plaything.”

Harry had stood up then, flipping the pair off with a pointed glare before turning towards the kitchen, intent on finding some peace and quiet where he could carry on his conversation without having to worry about Y/N overhearing something she shouldn’t.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your break,” He murmured, resting his elbows over the cool marble countertop of his kitchen island that was nearly the same temperature of his skin. “But calling you seemed easier than texting.  I’m free tonight—” He always kept his Friday nights free for her; had she not realized that by now? “So I was thinking I could be at your place around eight?  Or nine?  What works for you?”

And it was then that he had heard it, breaking through the cafe ambient noise that caught Harry’s inhuman ears, and the inquisitive whispering of Niall and Xander in the other room.  As clear as if it were really right in his ear, Harry had heard the sharp intake of breath, the slow exhale that followed, and the melodic voice that he’d become so familiar with, shaking ever so slightly.

“I was, um, actually thinking you could come over a bit earlier.” Y/N had replied, the tapping of her fingertips against her back room’s linoleum table reverberating around Harry’s head. “I got groceries yesterday, and I was going to make fajitas tonight, and I realized I had enough food for two people, and so if you don’t have anything else planned—”

Harry hadn’t meant to cut Y/N off— listening to her nervous rambling is one of his favourite things, and he’d never purposefully forfeit the opportunity to hear it (and that fondness aside, cutting off her speech would be rude)— but shock overtook his body and triggered the response before he could stop it. “You want to cook me dinner?”

“I—” The speaker crackled again, and Harry could practically picture the hesitation wrinkling across Y/N’s face, the caution in her tone a clear indication of how hard she was working to stay upright on the tense tightrope known as their relationship. “Yeah, I do.  I’m not a chef or anything, but my friends and I used to cook for each other all the time, and Fajita Fridays were one of my specialties, so—”

“I would absolutely love it if you cooked for me.” A slow grin had spread over Harry’s face, pulling the dimples from his cheeks in a way that he’d recently noticed only she could. “What time should I be over?  Do you want me to pick you up from work?”

“No, that’s fine.” Y/N had assured him quickly, the breathlessness in her voice leading Harry to picture the light rush of heat that was probably working its way over her cheeks. “You can come over around six, if that works for you…?”

Harry had checked the Rolex hanging off his wrist, which displayed the time of 2:33PM back to him. “Six is perfect.” He’d replied with an airy yet firm voice, nodding to himself once again. “Can I bring anything?  Is there anything you need me to pick up?”

“Oh, uh...no.  No, you don’t need to bring anything.  Just your appetite; I make a lot of fajitas.” The surprise that echoed in Y/N’s voice and the small laugh that followed had drawn an pleasurable ache from Harry’s dormant chest in a way he couldn’t explain. “Thank you for asking, though.  So… I’ll see you at six, then.”

“Sounds good, love.  I’m looking forward to it.” Harry had smiled again, despite no one being around to view it, and continued to smile even after he had hung up and made his way back to the living room, where his two friends had greeted him with an array of exaggerated vulgar motions and kissy faces.

He had waved them off, and though he’d glowered at them hotly and shrugged off their prodding questions, he couldn’t find it in himself to stifle the grin that the human girl’s offer had left behind on his cheeks.  She wanted to make him dinner. Just the two of them. It’d been so long since anyone had gone so out of their way for him like that, he hadn’t been able to help his giddy reaction.

As he reaches the final stair leading to Y/N’s floor of her building, a tired sigh falls from Harry’s pink lips.  He should’ve known better than to call her with his friend present, he thinks, as his footsteps echo around the empty hallway.  The moment he’d plopped back down on his couch, Niall and Xander had ignored his dismissive attitude and proceeded to continue to bombard him with a million questions about her, and a million more digs at his ego when he had later excused himself from their tournament to get ready for the dinner.  Although he’d normally be able to ignore their obsessive inquiries without so much as a second thought, he’d berated himself throughout his entire shower and get-ready routine, the harsh judgement ever-present in the back of his skull as he’d picked up his favourite ingredients for margaritas from the grocery store.  He should’ve known better.

It’s bad enough that he’s toying around with Y/N’s feelings just for his own selfish needs, but every time the topic of Y/N came up around his friends, it ended with the exact same question, just as it had earlier that day.

“So when do we get to meet her?  Like, officially meet her, and not just hear her moaning through your wall.” Niall had asked as he took a sip of his Guinness beer, layering a childish snicker on top of his curiosity.

“Yeah, I’d love to see the girl that domesticated you.  Always thought she’d be fictional, actually.” Xander’s laugh had matched Niall’s as the two of them watched Harry slip a fresh t-shirt over his head. 

A tightness had developed in Harry’s chest then, so tense that it had nearly stopped him from smoothing the shirt over his inked chest. “You don’t get to meet her.” He had replied curtly, shooting the two vampires a stern look. “She’s not something for you two to gawk at, she’s—”

Niall had interjected then, the mirth in his eyes refusing to bow despite Harry’s seething. “Your girlfriend?” 

Harry had stared witheringly at the Irish immortal. “No.  She’s not my girlfriend.  She’s just a friend I have an arrangement with.  An arrangement that will become much more complicated if she starts hanging out with other vampires and notices that there’s something… off about us.”

“Off?” Niall had questioned, grinning cheekily with a flash of his fangs, his blue irises dying blood red. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, mate.”

Pausing in front of Y/N’s front door, Harry takes a moment to swipe his hair back from his face, tousling his curls until they fall into just the right place.  His chestnut locks are beginning to get a little long again (they curl around his ears and tickle the nape of his neck now), but he can’t quite bring himself to cut them just yet; Y/N has a habit of reaching for them whenever he goes down on her, and the sensation of her tugging on his hair is too satisfying to let go of so easily.  As for the rest of his look, Harry has opted to keep it casual tonight, wearing a blue and pink flamingo patterned button down over his Chicago Cubs t-shirt, paired with a rust-coloured pair of corduroy pants and his white vans.  If their usual routine is any indication, then Harry will be staying the night, and he’s learned over the years that it’s much comfier to leave the next morning in loose clothes than trying to yank on a pair of tight leather pants in a stranger’s bedroom.  Not that Y/N is a stranger; in fact, he could probably get away with bringing an overnight bag now.  But there’s something so presumptuous in showing up to a dinner date with a bag, and in a shocking— though fleeting— change of heart, the last thing Harry wants is to seem presumptuous. 

Harry raises his jeweled knuckles and raps on Y/N’s door in a rhythmic pattern, straightening his back and leaning against the frame as he waits for the door to open. 

Even through the wooden barrier, Harry can hear the old music floating through the bluetooth speaker that he knows sits on Y/N’s kitchen counter, the sizzling of peppers and onions in a pan, and Y/N singing to herself softly under her breath, the latter of which pauses as soon as Harry knocks.  Instead, it’s replaced with the soft padding of bare feet against the laminate floor, the click of a lock, the removal of a door chain, and the turning of a knob as the door swings open. 

And then Harry sees Y/N, and the sight of her catches the breath that he doesn’t really need. It lodges in his lungs and at the back of his burning throat, causing an odd sensation to churn the pit of his tummy as a sudden wave of heat pours into his cheeks. 

If Harry’s pride wasn’t as steadfast as he likes to portray, he would openly admit that it truly is frightening how just one glance at her can make his entire nervous system flare. 

It’s obvious that Y/N’s been at work all day; her mascara is slightly smudged beneath her eyes, and the ponytail bouncing at the top of her head is loose, with wisps of hair falling out and framing her face.  Her clothing, however, has been changed from her usual work polo and jeans to a cotton bralette that clings to her chest and displays a strip of her stomach that makes Harry’s mouth water.  Her black leggings have mesh cutouts on the side, and while that detail would normally draw Harry’s eyes by default, it’s the multicolour patchwork cardigan hanging loosely off her shoulders that really catches Harry off guard.  Or, more specifically, it’s his multicolour patchwork cardigan that catches him off guard. 

“Hi.” Y/N smiles up at him warmly with the edges of her eyes crinkling, her hands grasping the side of the door tightly. “Six P.M. on the dot, Holmes.  I’m impressed.”

“Solving mysteries isn’t my only speciality.” Harry matches his grin to hers, his dimples making an appearance as his expression grows. “Although speaking of mysteries… I think I just solved the case of my missing cardigan.” With his free hand, Harry reaches forward and tweaks a button on the article of clothing, his fingers brushing against Y/N’s bare tummy when he pulls away. 

A wispy giggle falls from Y/N’s cheeks as she opens the door wider to invite Harry in. “Right, that case.  I was about to call you about it, actually.  We got a big break-through last night.”

“Did we?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he steps into her apartment, shifting the fabric tote bag in his right hand to his left as he squeezes into the narrow corridor beside her. “And what was the big break, exactly?” 

Y/N wraps her arms around Harry’s neck as he snakes his now free hand around her waist, clutching her close to his cool body. “Well, I was trying to go to sleep, and I was cold, so I went searching in my closet for an extra blanket, and found this tucked in the back from when you let me borrow it last weekend.” She explains lightly, twisting her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Case closed.  Elementary, my dear Holmes.”

“I thought that was my line?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as fond amusement dances through his emerald eyes, his cold palm giving one of her love handles a playful squeeze. “First you steal my cardigan, and now my catch phrase.  What’s next?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Y/N says with a shrug, her smile growing wider with every passing moment as she nudges his chin teasingly with the tip of her warm nose. “I could steal a kiss, I suppose?  That’s a very you thing to do.”

“Not quite.  Usually you’re the one trying to steal one, and I make you ask for it. Beg, even, if I’m feeling a bit meaner than usual.” Tilting his head to the side and shaking it slowly, Harry lets out a long sigh. “You’re losing your touch, Watson.”

“Tragic.” Y/N matches his sigh as she begins to untangle her hands from his hair, but when she tries to extract herself from Harry’s grasp, he just holds on tighter. 

“But for the sake of tradition…” Harry’s eyes fall to the mortal’s lips as he wets his own with his tongue. “How about a hello kiss?”

Despite the usual iciness of Harry’s touch, heat begins to blossom through Y/N’s chest as she tilts her head up to meet Harry’s mouth.  The kiss, unlike many they’ve shared before, is tender, and only lasts for a brief moment before Y/N settles back down on the balls of her feet. 

“Hi.” She whispers, her hands curling around the fabric clinging to Harry’s muscular shoulders. 

“Hi.” The vampire replies easily as he finally releases his grip on her waist, taking a step back from both Y/N and the bashful instance they’d found themselves in.

He allows her to lead him down the entrance hallway and into her living room, drifting behind her towards the kitchen and glimpsing over all the ingredients she has scattered around her counters.

“You look beautiful in my cardigan, by the way.” Harry throws out casually, admiring the way the article hangs off her figure in the most adorable oversized fashion. “If I didn’t make that clear enough before.  And,” the monster takes a sudden deep whiff for emphasis, “it smells delicious in here. Seems like Gordon Ramsey doesn’t have shit on you, huh?”

Although the initial compliment brings a flush of pleasure up Y/N’s spine, she chooses to focus on the latter half of Harry’s comment. “I’d like to think so, yeah.  Dinner is almost ready, if you want to take a seat at the table.  Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Actually…” Harry holds up the bag in his hand and bounces it jestingly, fully bringing it to Y/N’s attention for the first time. “I thought I’d make us margaritas to go with the fajitas.  Really commit to the theme, y’know?”

All of the previous drinks that Harry has made for her float through Y/N’s mind, and her mouth salivates at the thought of drinking another of his incredible creations. He really does have such a wise talent with liquor that she finds herself subconsciously wondering how that had come to be. “Of course; we can’t do Fajita Fridays halfway, now can we?”

“No, we can’t.” Harry agrees with a firm nod, setting the bag down on her small kitchen tabletop and unpacking the ingredients he’d toted with him. “Do you prefer your margaritas over ice or blended?”

The correct answer immediately rolls off the mortal’s tongue. “Blended— I’m not insane.” She states with a scoff, picking up her spatula to stir the pepper and onion mixture on the stove as she bobs her head towards the cabinet at the far end of the room. “The blender is just up in that cupboard there.”

The corners of Harry’s pink lips tug up at her response, and he nods to the girl as he drifts over and reaches for the cabinet she’d motioned to. “Gotcha.” He says, pushing back a few decorative serving platters before extracting the blender sitting on the back of the shelf. “Oh, this’ll do nicely.”

His comment is met with a quiet snort from Y/N, who glances at him from the corner of her eye as she turns her attention to the sautéing chicken in her skillet. “Oh, it will, will it?” She asks sarcastically, her lithe fingers adding pinches of seasoning to the dish. “Are you a blender connoisseur, then?”

“Of course I am, angel.  Y’have to be, to make a half decent margarita.” Setting the kitchen appliance in the counter, Harry studies it with a keen eye, running his fingers over the smooth glass and slightly worn buttons. “It has a little bit of wear and tear, but that’s to be expected; the rest of it seems to be in decent condition.” He unwraps the cord from the base of the blender, plugging it into the wall before pressing the pulse button a few times to make the machine roar to life. “Listen to that engine purr… A blender like this could bring a man to tears.”

“That’s good to know.” Y/N snorts again, shaking her head at Harry’s antics as he begins to prepare his ingredients. “If you need a knife for the limes, there’s one in the block there.  And ice is in the freezer—”

“That’s good to know.” Harry mimics her prior reply with a shit-eating grin on his face, his hand wrapped around a bottle of Don Julio he’d snagged from his bar shelves. “I was about to check the cabinet again.”

With a shake of her head, Y/N steps past Harry to open a cupboard and fetch a serving dish. “Alright, smartass.” She bumps her hip against Harry’s as she passes him, the motion sending a jolt of electricity across the vampire’s pelvic bones. “Keep it up and you’ll lose dessert privileges.”

Although she tries to step away, Harry twists a cool arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her back against his chest as he smudges a kiss over her pulse point. “‘M sorry.” He murmurs, keeping his voice low in an attempt to hide the smile brewing on his face. “I’ll be nicer, then.  I’d hate to lose dessert—it’s my favourite part.”

With his lips over her neck, Harry can feel the exact moment Y/N’s heart rate increases, his ears pricking with the now familiar and adored sound.  Her warm hand cups his over her belly, fingers tracing over the knuckles of his icy touch. 

“I know it is.” Y/N tilts her head to the left, trying to provide Harry with more access to her neck as his mouth continues to ghost over her skin. “So I’d hate to take it away.”

The human girl’s familiar and achingly sweet honey and lavender scent fills Harry’s nostrils as his nose brushes against her jaw.  When he refers to her as dessert, Y/N doesn’t know how genuinely Harry means it. “Alright.  I’ll behave.” He relents, but he squeezes her tummy tightly as his teeth graze her skin one last time before pulling away. “For now.”

When Y/N detangles from the cage that is Harry’s arm, she busies herself with cooking again, doing her best to hide the light sheen of sweat that is beading her forehead.  It’s almost embarrassing, really; despite only being here for five minutes, Harry’s already pulling reactions out of her that she didn’t even know she had.  If she doesn’t get a hold of herself soon, she’ll be on her knees for him before he’s had a bite of dinner. 

With that thought in mind, the mortal forces herself to focus on the tasks at hand, continuing her banter with Harry while making sure to keep the subject matter PG as she plates the food and Harry blends drinks for them.  Her tiny table, which she’s already set for two, is soon filled with dishes containing sautéed vegetables, chicken, and other various toppings, and Harry pours his margarita mix into two glasses before sitting across from her with a curious air. 

“So this is what you and your friends used to do back home, is it?” He asks, crossing his arms and resting them on the table as he regards Y/N with a tilted head. “Fajita Fridays?  Taco Tuesdays?  Meatloaf Mondays?”

“Meatloaf Mondays sound depressing.” Y/N shoots back with a scoff, her hand wrapping around her margarita glass and lifting it to her mouth to take a sip. “We weren’t that pathetic.”

Harry exhales a sharp but quiet breath from his nose once—the beginnings of a laugh— before offering a dry reply. “No, it doesn’t have a very nice ring to it, does it?” He says, watching eagerly as her eyes widen at the first taste of the drink rolls across her tongue. “Do you like it?”

Y/N clears her throat as she lowers her glass from her mouth. “It’s...strong.” Y/N replies slowly, taking another gulp and smacking her lips in an exaggerated fashion. “But yummy.  This is a repeat recipe, I think.” 

The praise warms the pit of Harry’s stomach as he raises his own glass, motioning to the girl before him before bringing the edge of the cup to his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He murmurs, setting his drink back down after taking a sip and letting his eyes roam over the food before them. “So how did you and your friends do this?  Everyone would just reach in at once, or—?”

“Oh, well, we—we used to say grace first, actually.” Y/N admits after a moment, her eyes momentarily flickering to the gold cross dangling from Harry’s neck.  Although his usual cross earring is absent tonight, his pearls out of sight as well, and he’s only wearing his opal and lionhead rings, that familiar cross necklace is present as ever. “And then we’d move everything around the table clockwise from the person who actually led saying grace.” 

Despite Y/N previously mentioning that she’d been a regular church goer in her hometown, this new information sparks an interest in Harry’s mind. “Really?” He quirks an eyebrow as the human girl reaches for a warmed tortilla and begins to spoon her toppings inside. “But you don’t do that now?”

“Nope.” Her lips pop on the final consonant sound of the word. “Did you say grace growing up?” She asks curiously, nodding to the chain around Harry’s neck. “You always wear that cross, so I was just wondering…”

“Oh, uh—yeah. Yeah, we did.” A crease furrows the space between Harry’s brow as he selects his own tortilla, keeping his eyes glued to the food. “My father used to lead it every night.” Although he could leave the comment there and be done with the topic, more words of explanation spill from Harry’s mouth without him realizing how much he’s actually saying, his gaze remaining trained on the way he’s filling his tortilla, almost as if it’s a monumentally difficult task that requires his utmost attention. “I liked to listen to him say it.  My father had a very calming voice; he could be loud and boisterous when he wanted to, but at home, he always kept cool and collected.  It was comforting.”

Y/N notes the use of past tense when discussing Harry’s father, but doesn’t comment on it.  With the knowledge that his mother had passed away in her mind, she assumes the same has happened to his father, and the realization twists her heart in a new and aching manner. “You speak like that, you know.” She tries to steer the conversation into a lighter direction, registering the sadness in his emerald eyes when he discusses his family. “When you’re telling stories about your life.  Your voice is low and even, quieter than usual.  It sounds a bit like a…lullaby, I guess.  Or like— like an audiobook, like someone’s reading some old poetry, or—” Her cheeks flame beneath her skin as she drops her eyes to her plate. “Sorry.  That, um, that sounds strange.”

The outpouring confessions from the girl across from him brings an awed expression to Harry’s face.  He had always assumed his voice was more of a siren song than anything— capable of luring his victims into a false sense of security before he showed his true monstrous form.  But if the stuttering of Y/N’s heart and the brightness in her eyes is any indication, maybe that isn’t quite the case.  She described him as a lullaby, yes, but she didn’t sound betrayed at the thought of him spinning stories in order to keep her pliable under his grasp.  If anything, her words give the impression that she enjoys it.

“I’ve heard stranger.” Harry murmurs after a moment, his unusually bare forefinger rubbing over his lips pensively as he waits for Y/N to raise her head again. “Thank you.  That’s a compliment, really, saying that I sound like my dad used to.”

“Well, I mean, I’ve never heard your dad speak, so take it with a grain of salt—” Y/N forces out a laugh, despite her cheeks and neck still feeling uncomfortably flushed, “—but I imagine it’s similar.  After all, he raised you, didn’t he?”

Harry nods slowly, his mind so wrapped in his own memories that he doesn’t even think about the incriminating answer about to fall from his lips. “He did, yeah, but it’s been a while since I’ve been able to speak to him.” He admits, pinching his chin between his thumb and index finger as he lifts his left shoulder in an empty shrug. “Memories fade over time.  Things change.  People change.”

Although she can feel that they’re beginning to breach a more serious topic, Y/N doesn’t pull back like she did in the restaurant.  She rationalizes this action to herself as she sips her margarita and collects her thoughts, saying that it’s just because it’s easier to be honest in her apartment than a brunch restaurant. But the truth of the matter is that the longer she spends with Harry, the more Y/N wants to know him. Really know him, outside of their usual arrangement. 

“That’s true,” She agrees with hesitancy etched into her voice, keeping a measured glance on Harry’s body to read his reaction. “But you can’t have changed that much since you last saw him.  When…” Her words trail off when Harry locks his emerald eyes with hers, but she takes a deep breath and finishes her question in determination. “When did he pass away?  How old were you?”

In the immortal’s mind, the answer forms without any delay.  His father had been the first to go in his family; the combination of breathing in smoke from the forge and his age being four years his mother’s senior had stopped his heart before hers.  The news of his death reached Harry a few days after it had happened, and he had just made it back to Holmes Chapel in time to watch the funeral service from afar.  

Despite his appearance being frozen at twenty-six, as it always would be, Harry was nearly twenty-nine to the day of the funeral.  Gemma had been thirty-three by then, standing with their mother and a tall man by her side, who whispered what her brother hoped were reassuring words in her ear.  His sister's eyes had been nearly a perfect mirror of Harry’s, with the exception of a few crow’s feet beginning to show around them.  And his mother had been dressed in widower’s black, a veil pulled over her weeping face to allow her the bit of discretion that was expected in Victorian times.  Harry had been distressed when he saw the veil, despite expecting it to be there; he’d hoped he could get one more glimpse of her eyes before he had to leave that day.  He had entertained the idea of walking over, expressing his condolences, and compelling her to forget she’d seen her lost son, but the thought had twisted an ache into his chest that had nearly brought him to tears, and—

“I was twenty-one when he passed away.” Harry spits the sentence out, and the familiar lie burns his throat in an entirely foreign way than the thirst he’s used to. “He had lung cancer.” At least, that had been Harry’s assumption after he read up on the disease years after his father’s undetermined passing.  It made sense, given that all the grit and soot from the coal and metal grime had found its way into the air of the blacksmith’s shop, and after slaving away for years in order to keep food on the table, it had also eventually made its way into his father’s system… “It progressed quickly.” 

As he watches sympathy glaze itself over Y/N’s eyes, all he can think about is how undeserving he is of it.  Even though he’s compelled the mortal girl in front of him, gained her trust, been invited into her home, and is kindling a connection with her, all for the simple act of drinking her blood, Harry thinks that this might be the most monstrous thing he’s done yet— paint himself as a victim of circumstance, hiding all the wrong-doings he’s ever committed, and allowing Y/N and her softly-beating heart to feel sorry for him. 

The conversation moves to an lighter tone after that, which Harry does on purpose; the less he needs to tell her about his fabricated sob story, the better.  And, truth be told, he’d much rather hear about Y/N’s day-to-day life.  It’s been so long since he had human concerns, and when he did, his concerns certainly didn’t have anything to do with being betrayed by customers because the cafe wifi was down.  It’s almost amusing to him, listening to her rant about all these insignificant people, and he can’t help the way his dimples begin to peek out of his cheeks as she raises her voice at imaginary customers. 

“So I told him, in my most polite voice, that we were aware the wifi was down, and that we’d called the provider to let them know, and that they were sending someone as fast as they could to fix it. And do you know what he said to me?” Y/N widens her eyes in incredulous disbelief as she takes a bite of her fajita, chewing and swallowing quickly to continue with her story with more emphasis. “Do you know what he said?”

“No, I don’t.” Harry shakes his head in endearment, hiding the laugh forming on his rosy lips behind his margarita glass. “What did he say?”

“He said—” Y/N twists her face to mimic the customer’s expression, dropping her voice down five octaves lower as she speaks with a ridiculous tone. “‘Oh, well, can’t you just fix it?  You work here, don’t you?  What else do you get paid for?’ Can you believe that?” She states the last phrase in her normal voice, scoffing at the memory as she crosses her patchwork covered arms across her chest. “Like, I’m a waitress!  I don’t work at an internet company!  I’m trained to bring you water and sandwiches— which are more cucumber than anything with actual substance—  so it’s not my responsibility to figure out why you can’t load Candy Crush on your phone!”

A snicker finally breaks free from Harry’s throat as he watches Y/N angrily stuff a piece of chicken into her mouth. “Sounds like you had a rough day today.”

“That’s pretty average for me, honestly.” Y/N sighs again, rubbing her hand over her forehead as she polishes off the rest of her second margarita. “Ugh, it pissed me off.  I wanted to shove his phone right up his ass and ask if his wifi connection got better.” A small smile breaks out across Y/N’s lips in spite of herself as Harry stifles another giggle at her witty comment. “But I’ve talked about it enough.  How was your day?  What did you do?”

“I did a bit of work in the morning, nothing too noteworthy.” Harry replies, deliberately keeping his answer vague as he twists his lionhead ring around his finger. “And I was about to watch a golf tournament with Xander and Niall when you called.”

Harry thinks nothing of mentioning their names, but is surprised when Y/N’s brow cinch in thought. “Which ones are Xander and Niall?  Is one of them the long haired one?” She asks curiously, pulling her (his) cardigan off one shoulder as the tequila begins to course through her veins and heat her body. 

“The— no.  No, that’s Mitch.” Harry says slowly, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “How did you know that?”

Y/N feels a spike of embarrassment in her stomach, and shyly avoids Harry’s eyes as she answers. “There was a photo of you with a group of guys in your apartment, in the living room.” She mumbles, tapping her fingers against her newly cleaned plate. “One of them— I think he was next to you in the photo?— had long hair.  Another had blue eyes, glasses… and brown hair, I think?  I don’t really remember the rest…”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, quiet and low. “That was probably Niall.” He guesses, finishing his own margarita and setting the glass down gently. “If I’m thinking of the right picture, then Xander was the one standing next to him.”

Y/N pictures the faces in her mind’s eye, imagining the two brunette boys in the clothing from the photo, slumped next to Harry on the couch of his stunning condo, knocking back pints of beer and plates of nachos as they watch golf on TV.  It seems strange to picture Harry doing something so… normal.  She forgets, sometimes, that he’s a regular twenty-six year old man.  In her head, when she thinks of Harry, regular is the last word that comes to her mind— even when he’s sitting across from her in a casual outfit, doing something as simple as eating dinner while he asks her about her day, Y/N struggles to remember that this man is just that: a man.  

Maybe, she ponders, as Harry stands up with the explanation of making more margaritas falling off his lips, it’s because she’s only ever really been alone with him.  With the exception of the club where they met, and his friends interrupting their weekend a few weeks prior (her cheeks flame at the recalling of the embarrassing memory), Y/N has only ever seen Harry in her own context.  

As the blender whirs to life behind her, the human twists in her chair to catch a glimpse of the object of her thoughts.  Even beneath his opaque shirt, she can see the muscles of Harry’s back flexing as he bends down to slice a lime, squeezing the juice into the top of the blender while holding his jeweled hand underneath to catch any seeds.  When Harry is around her, he’s charming, cocky, self-assured, and— on the extremely rare occasion— vulnerable.  What’s he like around his friends?  

Just as cocky, Y/N is sure; she can’t picture Harry letting go of his signature smirk so easily.  But does anything else about him shift when exposed to different company?  Is there different vocabulary that slips from his mouth?  What about his tone of voice?  Does that change, too, like Y/N’s used to when she was around Bradley, or when she’s with customers?  He mentioned earlier that he’d been watching golf, and that was the last sport she'd ever think he’d have an affinity for, let alone one he’d enjoy enough to make a day out of watching tournaments.  What other personality traits and pastimes is he keeping from her?  If she were to be a fly on the wall while he was with his friends, would she see someone completely unrecognizable in his Gucci boots and translucent shirts?

The sudden lack of noise from the blender snaps Y/N from her thoughts, and Harry detaches the pitcher and carries it to the table, filling her empty glass with a smile. 

“There you are, miss.” He winks at her quickly before filling his own cup and standing back from the table with a grin, his free hand folded behind his back as he straightens his posture. “Now,” He begins, his accent slipping into a more posh tongue as he bows his head lightly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Despite her worries, a soft laugh rolls from Y/N at his impersonation of a server. “Yeah, actually.” She drops her voice lower again, plastering an angry expression onto her face as she reaches into her cardigan pocket and retrieves her phone. “Your wifi is down.  What kind of restaurant doesn’t have wifi?  Can’t you fix this?”

A loud snort echoes from Harry’s mouth as he sets the blender back down on the counter before sliding back into his seat across from her. “Sorry, love,” He laughs, his regular accent back in its place. “That’s a bit above my paygrade.  I can, however, offer you some compensation.”

Wrapping her fingers around the icy margarita glass, Y/N leans forward, resting her chin on her free hand as she appraises Harry with a kinked brow. “Is that so?” She replies in her regular voice as well, her interest piqued. “What kind of compensation?”

“It’s part of our Friday Night Special,” Harry slides his hand across the table and pushes the baggy rainbow sleeve of Y/N’s cardigan down her arm in order to brush his cool fingers up and down her bare skin. “And it features bottomless margaritas paired with cunnilingus from our most handsome waiter.”

A fluttering warmth begins to knot itself around Y/N’s core, but she does her best to keep her composure as she straightens her spine and glances around the apartment. “Sounds intriguing.  So where’s the handsome waiter?”

Harry’s pillowy lips plunk down into an exaggerated frown as he presses a hand to his chest, his other hand continuing to stroke over Y/N’s forearm. “Ouch, Watson.  That hurt.  Might need you to kiss it better.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N challenges, lifting her drink to her lips and sipping it slowly. “Where exactly does it hurt?”

Instead of answering her query, Harry simply stands from his chair and rounds the table to stop in front of Y/N, extending his hand to her.  She lays her fingers inside his cool grasp, allowing him to pull her from her seat.  He’s closer than she realized, she thinks, as her chest brushes with his and the intoxicating scent of his cologne fills her senses, only getting stronger as Harry nudges her nose with his own, his lips just barely gliding over her own. The copper specks around his pupils glitz under the muted lighting, electric from the alcohol, from the sensation of her close proximity, and from the ever-present intention of getting between her legs.

When Harry finally speaks, his thick cadence washes over her just as much as his tequila-scented breath, his free-hand tugging suggestively at the waistband of her leggings. “If we go to your bedroom, then I can show you.”

“Mm, is that so?” The girl gives in to his gesture, stepping forward as the vampire begins treading backwards towards their new— though entirely familiar— destination. “You’re gonna show me, then?”

“I most certainly am.” The boy keeps their bodies close, making sure that his lips continue to just barely graze hers as he moves, teasing her nerves into a frenzy. “I plan on showing you over, and over, and over…”

Y/N can’t bring herself to resist the offer.  She’s only human, after all.

///

The next morning, Harry wakes up tangled in Y/N’s sheets to two surprises: the sheets on Y/N’s side of the bed are cold and bare, and that Harry is actually waking up.  

Although he remembers falling back onto the scattered sheets the night before (after coaxing three orgasms out of Y/N and her coaxing two from him in return), he doesn’t remember drifting off into the sleep he so rarely needs, and because of that, Harry feels disoriented and groggy in a way he hasn’t in a long time.  He does his best to blink the haze from his usually sharp eyes, knuckling at them with his cool fingers as he attempts to get his bearings.

His sleep-fogged mind struggles to recall what had happened after Y/N had fallen asleep.  She’d drifted off easily and quickly, her sweat-soaked body tucked into Harry’s with her head resting in the crook of his neck.  That noted detail sticks out in his memory because it had made Harry pause before biting her.  She’d been so comfortable next to him, and in such an inconvenient position that Harry didn’t want to shift her to drink. After debating with himself for a few moments, he’d eventually decided on an alternative and had lifted her fragile wrist to his lips.

Even half awake, Harry’s lips quirk up at the hazy memory.  He recalls the feeling of her hummingbird pulse thrumming beneath her delicate skin, practically vibrating against his lips as he stamped a kiss over her vein before biting down.  Her blood had a weaker flow there, but that was alright; he’d just sucked a little harder to coax the liquid from her body, feeling his mouth overflow with her welcomed taste as well as with the supernatural chemicals that inject into her system and dull any pain his feeding might cause. He’d been careful to gauge his consumption by the strength of her heartbeat, and when he’d finished, he’d sealed the wound with a bit of his own blood, as usual. He’d made sure Y/N was healed and settled back in his arms before relaxing into the pillows to listen to her breathing, the soft pillows and her radiating body heat feeling more soothing than usual. Somewhere between counting the movement of her lungs and the sun rising, Harry had fallen unconscious.

It’s strange, being up after Y/N.  Harry has grown used to rising before her and making breakfast, or even just coffee, and there’s something disorienting about being in her bed alone, without her inherent warmth and soft skin, and only the ghost of her sugary scent left behind.  He briefly wonders if this is how she feels when she wakes up to cold sheets and no one beside her (although Harry suspects the lack of his frozen body would make the bed a more comfortable temperature), and thinks that maybe he should begin to lay in bed with her a little longer; if he’s going to fake a relationship with her, it should be a relationship where her partner wants to be around her, and isn’t awake before the sun.

And that’s another thing.  The golden orange light of the rising L.A. sun is just beginning to stream through the closed curtains, so what time is it?  It can’t be any later than seven— on a Saturday, no less— and at such an early hour, Harry would expect Y/N to still be dreamily dozing in bed.  What had drawn her away from her comfortable position in Harry’s arms?

As the sun continues to rise, the light begins to streak onto Y/N’s empty side of the bed and, instinctually, Harry begins to reach for the beam, craving the warmth she took with her when she abandoned the sheets.  Instead of the expected touch of heat, however, Harry is jarred by a burning sensation ripping across his icy flesh.

The vampire yanks his hand back in a flash, his face screwing in silent pain as he bites back a yell of anguish, but the damage has already been done.  The tips of his fingers are puckered with red blisters, which throb as he flexes his hand in the safety of the shadows. Harry digs his sharp teeth into his lip harder, forcing himself to inhale slowly through his nose and exhale shakily through his mouth.

It takes a few moments for him to collect himself, breathing deeply with his eyes closed as he does so, and as he counts his own breaths like he’d counted Y/N’s the night before, what should’ve been an obvious thought enters his mind: why had he burned?  He’s wearing his lionhead ring, which has eyes made of those precious crystals that protect his inhuman skin from sunlight, and as long as he’s wearing it, the sun shouldn’t be able to…

Harry’s sight snaps completely open as he jerks forward in bed, his head throbbing from the sudden movement.  When he’d first awoken, he’d attributed his grogginess and dry eyes to sleeping for the first time in weeks, but as Harry’s jade gaze settles upon his uninjured hand, he realizes the truth.  That disorienting feeling isn’t from sleep, but from the sunlight that had begun to seep through the curtains and affect his body, bouncing off the glossy walls of Y/N’s room and reflecting off her picture frames and furniture.  What would normally not be an issue suddenly becomes the bane of his existence, and what usually isn’t able to affect his body immediately does, obvious in the agonizing sweltering writhing through every single one of his dormant arteries. And all because his lionhead ring is missing from its rightful place.

Granted, Harry hadn’t worn most of his rings to Y/N’s apartment the night before, seeing as how they planned to spend the night in, but he’d kept his mother’s opal and the lionhead securely on his middle finger and pinky, just as he always did.  The former brings him memories of his mother, and helps him keep a piece of her— and who he once was— with him in this strange modern time.  The latter had been a rebirth gift from a family he’d rather forget, and if it didn’t keep him from flambéing himself every time he stepped into the sun, he wouldn’t wear it at all. In all honesty, he probably would’ve chucked into Hell, if he could. 

But the reality of his afterlife is that Harry needs that ring.  So why is it missing from his hand?

Cradling his blistered digits to his bare chest, the wounded vampire tosses back the covers, careful to avoid the streaks of sunshine beginning to light up the small room.  His icy chest soothes the burn in his fingers, which are taking longer to heal than Harry would’ve thought, but if the grating itch of his dry eyes is any indication, the effects of the sun aren’t just limited to direct physical harm, but are also stopping his body from healing itself as quickly as usual.

Harry presses his good hand to his dizzy head and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet onto the ground as firmly as he can to center himself, refusing to cripple under the extraneous circumstances. He fishes his grey boxers from their signature spot on Y/N’s floor, slipping them on slowly as even the smallest of movements seems to strain his muscles beyond reason. As the elastic band snaps around his hips, another frightening possibility seizes his body: his mother’s ring could also be gone. He yanks his hand away from his head, and it takes his eyes a moment to focus on the opal ring.  At least he can breathe a sigh of relief about one thing— if his mother’s ring had disappeared, Harry’s not quite sure what he would’ve done.  

And that thought brings his spinning mind back to the present.  His lionhead ring is gone, and he can’t so much as step into sunlight without undergoing intense, insurmountable pain, so how is he going to find it?

Another groan falls from Harry’s mouth as he rests his forehead in his palm, propping his elbow against his knee so he can shield his eyes from the sunlight by hiding in between his legs.  Daylight talismans are extremely rare; he can’t exactly waltz into the nearest Wal-Mart and pick one up.  The crystals that give vampires such cherished immunity all date back to the medieval era, when vampires were considered mythical legends instead of just plain myths, and what few of the crystals are left are hidden deep within old ruins in the remote wilderness of Europe.  If Harry hadn’t been given his shortly after he was turned, he’s not sure he would have been lucky enough to own one.  He remembers Niall telling him how he had to search every night for months before he found a crystal hidden inside a ruin in Wales, and Xander had once recounted the story of stealing his from the vampire that turned him.  Even Mitch had struggled with the crystals before; although his ring had originally been a gift from the vampire that transformed him, he had to crack the crystal in half and set it into a new ring for Sarah when she had met her untimely demise. 

Vampires have been known to beg, lie, cheat, and steal in order to get their hands on a daylight crystal, so if someone managed to sneak in and take Harry’s lionhead ring while he and Y/N were sleeping, then Harry is going to have a fucking hell of a time trying to get it back. 

As the thought enters Harry’s dazed mind, a chill runs down his back, crawling across his spine and down his tailbone in an unsettling shiver as he slowly turns back to Y/N’s empty side of the bed.  If someone— if another creature just like him, who would be the only other person capable of recognizing such a treasure— got into the apartment and took his ring, and found an unconscious mortal girl with the sweetest honey and lavender liquid pulsing through her veins, then…

The sheets and curtains of the room blow in a breeze as Harry jets off the bed, forgetting to control his inhuman speed as he throws the sliding door open and stumbles into the hallway.  More sunlight streams through the windows of the living room, and it’s taking all of Harry’s dulled concentration to avoid the beams as he staggers towards the kitchen.

It’s not until the immortal smells Y/N’s familiar fragrance and hears the beating of her heart, in tune with her quiet humming, that the fear Harry hadn’t realized had tightened his chest flows out of him in one fell swoop.  He does his best to force even breaths in and out of his lungs, watching as Y/N raises her coffee mug to her lips and blows on the hot liquid before taking a small sip.

She’s dressed in his multicoloured patchwork cardigan again, buttoned up to provide her with warmth and modesty, but it slips down her bare shoulder in a way that allows Harry to see she’s wearing nothing underneath it.  Although the cardigan pools around her silky thighs— which are marked with bruises from the night before— Harry can see the tiniest peak of her panties beneath the fabric, and if he were in a better frame of mind, he might’ve noticed how they’re not the pair she wore last night (that pair had been ripped right down the middle in his frantic attempt to get them off).  However, Harry’s eyes quickly settle on Y/N’s hands, which, after she sets down her coffee cup, pick up Harry’s lionhead ring and begin turning it around in her fingers.

When he sees the ring in her delicate grasp, a wave of sheer rage begins to rumble through Harry’s chest, and it takes every fiber of his undead being to keep it at bay as he approaches the mortal girl. “Y/N,” Harry rasps lowly, voice heavy with the exhaustion that his newfound vulnerability has stacked onto his shoulders. He stands in the one spot of shadow near the kitchen counter, trying hard not to glower. “What are you doing?”

When Y/N turns her head to look at him, her sleepy face smiles softly, eyes nearly as bright as the infuriating sun. Maybe that’s why, Harry thinks, it feels like it burns.

“Morning,” She says quietly, her own voice just as sleepy as Harry’s as she picks up a grey cloth from the table and begins to run it over the ring with precision and care. “How did you sleep?”

It’s a simple, innocent question, and Harry knows that, but his mind can’t think in simple and innocent terms right now.  As the light filling the room begins to pound his head even more, Harry’s thoughts revert back to his most instinctual behavior— rough carnal impulse. “What are you doing?” He asks again, his voice lower than before.  He sounds dangerous, and he means to.  How could she possibly think that taking something from him without his permission is fine?

“I’m polishing your ring.” Y/N keeps that good-natured smile on her face as she replies, but Harry can see the smallest waver in it as she begins to sense his distorted energy from across the room. “It was tarnished, and I have a polishing cloth, so I thought I’d—”

“Give it back.” Harry doesn’t mean to snarl the phrase, but he can’t stop himself from doing it as he thrusts out his hand expectantly; it’s taking all his concentration to keep himself from baring his teeth and letting his eyes bleed red. 

Y/N doesn’t fight him on it, and drops the ring carefully into his awaiting hand without letting her warm skin meet his.  She watches with confused eyes as Harry slips the newly shined lionhead ring onto his finger, a breath of relief sighing from his red lips the moment the metal meets his skin. He finishes twisting it into its designated spot, and he feels like he can actually breathe again.

The human girl waits a moment for an explanation from Harry, some spoken word or action to justify the hostility rolling off of him as he clutches the jeweled hand to his chest.  As the moments pass, however, Harry offers no explanation, or anything at all as he takes deep and measured inhales through his nose, as if he’s trying to relax. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N offers the words quietly, turning in her chair to properly face him with sincere eyes. “I just noticed that it was more tarnished than your other jewelry, and I thought I could—”

“You can’t take my rings from me.” Harry answers in a harsh voice, his face reflecting about as much warmth as stone on a winter’s day. “I thought I’d lost it.  You can’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N repeats the phrase again, gentler this time as she wraps her hands around her steaming mug.  She had guessed that the opal ring was his mother’s, but like Harry’s ruby ring and initial rings, she’d deduced this lionhead decal was more for decoration than anything.  If it was something important, one would figure that he’d take better care of it.  But it seems she’s not as adept at reading Harry as she’d like to think, because his explosive reaction had been totally unexpected.  For the first time since she met him, Y/N feels uneasy in his presence.  Had she really offended him that much?

The truth of the situation, unbeknownst to her, is that Harry’s reaction is no more purposefully malicious than Y/N’s intentions. Although the ring is back on his finger, and the crystals are beginning to protect him again, Harry’s thoughts are still muddied as he glances around the apartment, carefully surveying the circumstance like the top predator he pretends not to be.  There’s still a throbbing in his skull, and his eyes remain painfully dry, despite the fact that his healing has kicked in and mended his blistered fingertips.  In this moment, Harry feels weaker than he has in centuries; if someone were to attack right now, he wouldn’t be able to react quickly enough to protect himself. How could his aching head afford him any clear plan of attack?  How could his burning eyes show him every approaching danger?  How did he let himself become so relaxed— so stupidly lax— that he didn’t notice a mere human slipping off his most precious and needed object as he slept soundly in her bed?

“I really am sorry, Harry.” Rising from her chair with her quiet speech, Y/N steps towards him, hand outstretched to touch his inked forearm. “I didn’t know—”

Her hot fingertips against Harry’s frozen skin jar the vampire, triggering his fight or flight instincts as he tenses beneath her touch. “No—” He wrenches his arm away hurriedly, the searing graze reminding him of the sunlight that had harmed him just seconds ago, his wild eyes meeting Y/N’s in a feral frenzy. 

Although her chest barely moves, Harry can hear the stuttering breath that the girl sucks in through her teeth, her eyes widening at the severity of his actions. “I’m sorry.” She whispers the phrase again, her fingers jerking back from Harry’s arm in shock. “I…”

The more time passes, the more Harry regains control of himself, and as Harry melds his shattered composure back together, he can see the fear beginning to stain its way onto Y/N’s face.  The uneven beating of her heart pricks his ears, as does the scuff of the floor beneath her bare feet as she takes a step back from him.  When that uncertain fear reaches her irises, Harry is suddenly flashed back to their first date, when he’d been worried that she might be scared of being alone with him, and how delighted he’d been when he realized that wasn’t the case.  And now, as a sick feeling begins to settle in his stomach, he knows he’s blown it. 

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Harry urges himself to relax. 

“No, I’m sorry.” He softens his voice as much as he can muster in order to apologize, rubbing his charred eyes with one hand, hoping they’re still the canopy green Y/N is familiar with. “M’just half asleep still, and I was worried that— I’m sorry.” Harry extends his ringed hand in invitation, desperately craving the warmth of Y/N’s touch now that he’s leveled out, but not wanting to take it unwillingly. He wants her to feel safe enough to give it to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

There’s a moment of hesitation that flickers in her eyes, but it quickly passes as the mortal lays her hand within his. “You didn’t scare me.” She reassures him, but Harry can hear the falseness of her response immediately, and that guarded demeanor only intensifies the nausea rattling inside him.

Is she lying to save his feelings, he wonders, or to make herself look tougher?  No matter which may be the truth, Harry hates that she has to feel the need to lie.  He’d been upset, yes, but he should know better.  And he should know that she doesn’t know better.  She thought she’d been doing something nice for him; she has no idea about the torturous results his ring protects him from.  And she doesn’t know because Harry refuses to tell her— because he refuses to subject her to that perverted knowledge.  This is his own doing. 

“I did. I did frighten you, and I was rude, and I’m truly sorry.” Harry sighs heavily, dragging his fingers through his sleep-tousled curls. “My ring is just— it’s very important to me, and I don’t really like to take it off, so maybe just—just ask next time, yeah?” He murmurs the words in a soothing tone, his thumb sweeping over her knuckles in a poor attempt to make up for the way he’d berated her. “I know you didn’t have any bad intentions, and I’m not angry with you for taking it, but it just scared me when I woke up and it was gone.” 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N repeats yet again, and although Harry can feel her melting into his touch, there’s still a hint of uncertainty lingering beneath her words. 

Harry forces a grin on his chapped lips, which he wets with his tongue before speaking again. “S’alright, dove.  No harm, no foul.  And no more apologies, yeah?” He brushes a finger over her cheek, trying his best to put on a lighthearted front for the girl. “It was rather tarnished, actually— needed a good cleaning.” 

A shy smile finally creeps its way onto Y/N’s face, and Harry has to stop himself from breathing an audible sigh of content at both the gesture and the lack of prying about why that ring was dirtier than the rest (the answer to said question is just as simple as it is complicated: it reminds Harry of someone he’d rather forget, and if he didn’t need it, he’d drown it in the deepest ocean he could find— keeping it clean is the least of his concerns).

“How about breakfast, hm?  It’s early, but we could make some pancakes, or—” Harry glances at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, reading the time with surprise before his gaze travels back to Y/N with a confused look. “It’s not even seven yet.  What time did you get up?”

“Around 6:15?  6:30?” She lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug, and Harry’s cardigan slips down her arm with the motion. “I don’t really remember.”

With his other hand still squeezing her own, Harry rugs the sleeve of the cardigan back up her shoulder, smoothing it over her morning-cooled skin. “It’s a Saturday, darling.  What were you doing up so early?”

Despite her heartbeat having not quite returned to its usual tempo, Y/N nuzzles into Harry’s touch as he pulls her closer to him. “Couldn’t really sleep, I guess.” Tucking her face into his neck for a moment, Y/N indulges a penetrating inhale, enjoying the remnants of his mahogany and vanilla cologne before stepping back and past Harry to the cabinet.  

Standing on her tiptoes, Y/N opens the door and retrieves a pink flowered mug before sliding down the counter to her coffee maker. “Want some coffee?” She asks, touching the glass of the carafe lightly to make sure it’s still warm. “There’s butter in the fridge, I think, if you want to make your disgusting drink.”

Ignoring the dig at his beverage of choice— which Harry has explained to her, multiple times, has many health benefits (not that he needs them) and just tastes better than coffee with cream— the vampire leans his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest as his brow furrows over his darkening eyes. 

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He questions, his attention glued to Y/N’s actions as she seems to deliberately avoid his gaze.  He analyzes the dark circles under her eyes, apparent even from just her side profile, and a spark of concern ignites his chest.  Could this be his fault?  Is drinking her blood beginning to take a physical toll on her body?  His blood has been healing her bite marks, but what about her iron levels?  Is her circulation being affected?  Mitch has told him multiple times that drinking from humans is okay once or twice a week, as long as there’s a grace period in between feeding, but Mitch has also never had the same human for as long as Harry has had Y/N.  Have the weeks they’ve spent together begun to unravel her?

When Y/N simply shrugs in response to his question, and offers no other words of explanation, a tired sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he steps towards her, taking the now-filled coffee mug from her hands and setting it down on the counter.  He wraps his arms around Y/N’s shoulders, hugging the girl into his chest for a moment to get a gauge on her body’s response.  Her heartbeat stutters, yes, but that’s a usual response to being wrapped inside Harry’s embrace, and it returns to normal after a few beats.  Her body feels just as warm as it usually does, and her chest is rising and falling just as it should be.  Nudging his face into her hair, he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with her fragrance.  No, nothing smells out of place, and her blood had tasted as delicious and as strong as ever last night.  If she’s having trouble sleeping, the cause isn’t anything tangible. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Harry mumbles the words into her hair before lifting his head up, extracting the girl from his arms just enough so that he can see her face. “If something is bothering you and keeping you up, then you can wake me up, too.”

Y/N worries her pillowy bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes become entranced by Harry’s rosemary gaze. “I know I could, but I didn’t want to.  You—” She swallows hard in an attempt to clear the thickness from her throat as her cheeks begin to burn. “You were sleeping, and I never see you sleep.” Y/N’s voice retreats into a sheepish tone at the admittance, her eyes falling from Harry’s stare to the floor between them. “You always fall asleep after me, and you’re always awake before me.  You need rest, too, H.”

While Harry would normally laugh at that simple phrase— at the fact that Y/N doesn’t know how wrong she is— Harry’s dimples remain dormant as he focuses on the concern in her voice. “I—” His voice catches in his throat, and he has to clear it before he can say anything else. “I sleep just fine.  Better, in fact, when I’m with you.” He confesses, his thumbs brushing over the exposed skin of Y/N’s neck. 

And after Y/N has extracted herself from his grip to take a sip of her coffee, after she teasingly groans while watching Harry drop a pat of butter into his own steaming mug, after he begins to crack eggs into a pan as Y/N starts to lay bacon on a baking sheet, after all that, Harry finally realizes what lodged in his throat. It dawns on him just as Y/N slips a pink apron over his bare, faintly hickey-bruised chest to protect him from splatters of grease, giggling to herself as he poses with his hand on his hip and makes a vulgar joke about how this looks like the setup to a cheesy porno. 

The vampire comes to the realization that Y/N takes notice of him. 

She notices when he doesn’t sleep.  She notices his exposed skin that could potentially be burned while cooking.  She notices the expressions on his face, reads the tone of his voice, knows when to press a matter and when to leave it be.  And she’s concerned.  She’s concerned about not seeing him sleep.  She’s concerned about him accidentally getting hurt.  She’s concerned about the swings in his moods, the shortness of his answers.  And while Harry knows her real concerns should be about allowing herself to be in such close proximity to someone— something— like him, he can’t help but feel a warmth in his chest at the thought of her worrying about him. 

As much as Harry likes to pretend otherwise, he knows he’s not easy to be around sometimes.  He can be vain, self-centered, self-serving, and inconsiderate.  He can be selfish, dishonest, and manipulative.  His mood can teeter at the drop of a hat, and he changes his mind like the weather on the best of days.  And on his worst of days, sometimes Harry wonders if anyone could care for him, or even stand to be around him, if it wasn’t a necessity. 

Although he’d never admit it, when Harry reflects on his friendships, he can feel a degree of insecurity in the threads that tie him to his crew.  He’s fairly certain that if he and Mitch met under different circumstances— circumstances when both of them were human— they would likely still be friends.  Maybe not as close as they are today, but friends, at the very least.  When it comes to Niall, Xander, and Adam, however… he’s not so sure.  Yes, he cares for them more than he’ll ever care for anyone again, and his loyalty to them is unwavering, but on his worst days, Harry can’t help but wonder if they would be friends if their connection hadn’t been forged on the basis of what they are, and understanding something that no one else can.  If being vampires hadn’t placed them in each other’s lives and sealed them in a bond of venom and blood, would they even have given the others a second thought?  Would any of them have wanted Harry in their lives?  Harry wants to think yes, but it’s not a question of what he wants; the truth is, Harry is uncertain. 

But when Y/N sits across from him with a smear of ketchup on her bottom lip, smiling softly at Harry as he wipes it off with his thumb, and he can’t stop himself from smiling back, he realizes something that’s never occurred to him before.  He’s able to be cared for by someone who is drawn to him for all the reasons humans are normally drawn to each other, and not because they have a mutual understanding of what it’s like to be an other.

Of course, he knows there’s a certain degree of falsity in that; part of his charm and addictive qualities come from what he is, and Y/N, like any other mortal, isn’t immune to that.  But instead of allowing herself to be driven away by the usual uneasiness that pairs with being so close to a vampire for so long, Y/N is leaning closer to him, laughing as he cracks a bad joke, kissing him over their breakfast, and showing evidence that she— against all odds— wants to know him.  And the thought sends a fluttering below Harry’s ribs. 

He wishes, just for a moment, that he could be capable of feeling the same. He wishes he could have the decency to give this girl the proper relationship she wants, or even the decency to break her heart quickly before she gets too attached to someone incapable of seeing her as anything more than a takeout meal.  He wishes he could get to know her— truly get to know her, without any ulterior motives.

But Harry is vain, self-centered, self-serving, and inconsiderate.  He’s selfish, dishonest, and manipulative.  And he has his fangs too deep in this mortal to let her go. 

///

“Are you sure I can’t pick you up?” Harry slides his phone between his ear and his shoulder in order to snag his keychain from his pocket, fumbling for the right key before inserting it into his locked door. “I can just drop my groceries off and then swing by your cafe, love.  It’s no trouble.”

“No, really, it’s fine, H.” Y/N insists from the other end of the line, her voice nearly drowned out from the roar of L.A. traffic around her. “I already left work, and I’m nearly home.  I’ll be over at your place within, like, forty-five minutes, I think?  I just have to change out of my uniform.”

With his front door now unlocked, Harry grabs his phone from its perch on his shoulder before pushing open the door with his hand full of groceries, stepping inside his apartment and nudging the door shut with his foot. “I know, but it’s a long walk to my place, isn’t it?”

“It’s, like, twenty minutes— practically nothing.  And besides, I have to stop at the post office and mail a letter to my parents.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up as he rounds the corner to his kitchen, setting his grocery bags on the island before leaning his hip against the kitchen counter, his now free hand braced against the cool marble. “You still send your parents letters?  Can’t you just call them?” He asks, tapping a ringed finger against the stone.

“If you knew my parents, you’d send letters, too.” Y/N sighs into the speaker, and Harry’s inhuman ears can hear the jangling of her keys in her hand.  He can picture her searching for them like she did the night they met, digging into her purse until she’s elbow deep, her tongue tucked between her teeth in concentration.

Despite the distinctive sound of a lock turning, Harry can’t stop himself from asking about her well-being. He’s so used to doing it with his other friends, it slips out on impulse. “Are you home now?  Made it alright?”

There’s a hint of exasperated amusement in Y/N’s voice when she responds. “Yes, I managed to walk home all by myself.  Didn’t even get murdered.” There’s another thud, and Harry imagines her shutting her door, pushing her weight against it to lock it properly. “I’m pretty good at taking care of myself, you know.  I have good instincts.” 

If she’s allowed him to get this close to her, Harry thinks, then her instincts aren’t exactly the caliber she imagines them to be, but he bites his tongue to stop himself from correcting her. “I’m sure you do, darling.” He murmurs the reply as he opens his fridge to begin stocking it with the items he’d purchased earlier. “Oh, by the way, make sure you’re wearing comfortable shoes, yeah?  We’re going to be doing a bit of walking later.”

“Right.  And you’re not telling me where we’re going because…?”

“Because surprises are fun.”

When Y/N huffs in response, Harry pictures the girl with a scowl on her face, her arms crossed tightly over her tummy as she gives him an endearing glare. “Not when you’re the one who’s being surprised.” 

Still, despite her protests, Harry hears the rustling of clothing as she pulls off her work polo, followed by the clanking of her belt, the snap of a button, and the familiar rustle of her jeans being peeled off her legs. “You just worry about undressing yourself, alright?  It must be difficult, since you’ve grown so used to me doing it for you.”

“Uh huh.  I’m hanging up now.” Y/N deadpans into the phone, but Harry can tell there’s a lingering smile underneath her flat words. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Alright, doll.  See you soon.” Harry sets a carton of eggs in the fridge before closing it, hanging up the call and slipping his phone back into his black slacks.  

It takes Harry a few more minutes to put the rest of his groceries away in his pantry.  He made sure to stock up on all the ingredients needed to make pancakes at the grocery store, as well as picking up a carton of the fancy pomegranate juice that Y/N had mentioned she was fond of.  In fact, as he was wandering the aisles of his local Whole Foods, he’d found himself seeking out the snacks that he’d seen in her cupboards.  He knows that humans need to eat much more often than vampires do, and seeing as how all the activities Y/N engages in at his condo are rather exhausting and energy-burning, he thought she’d need proper fuel.

After he folds the reusable cloth tote bags he’d brought to the grocery store and puts them back in the pantry, Harry climbs up his glass stairs to his bedroom.  He takes a moment to evaluate his appearance in the full length mirror hanging on the back of his door, sweeping over every detail with a careful eye.  His outfit is alright for what he has planned, he decides; his black slacks and scuffed white vans are comfortable, but more importantly, his white t-shirt embossed with a Hollywood Bowl print that clings to the muscles of his inked arms and broad chest, which Harry knows Y/N will enjoy.  His curls, however, need a bit of tending to, and Harry slinks into his bathroom to add a bit more product to his chestnut locks, getting rid of the little frizz that had developed in the L.A. heat in order to fix his curl pattern.  

As for his jewelry, he leaves on his usual rings: his gold initial pieces, his mother’s opal, his ruby, an engraved band, and his lionhead ring, which shines under the bathroom lights thanks to Y/N’s careful efforts the week before.  Once those are secure, he fastens his pearl necklace around his neck, and fixes the clasp of his cross before slipping a plain gold hoop into his pierced ear.  Once he’s satisfied with his accessories, Harry spritzes his favourite cologne across his body, giving his appearance one more look over as he leaves his bathroom and passes the full length mirror in his bedroom again.  

The Rolex on his wrist tells him that Y/N is due over any moment, and he’s just making sure his Gucci wallet is securely tucked in his trouser pocket when Harry’s ears prick up at the sound of two pairs of feet stomping into his condo downstairs.  It only takes him a moment more to identify the intruders based on their step patterns, and a frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as he checks the time again before sauntering down the stairs.

“And just what do you two,” Harry calls to his unexpected friends as he rounds the corner of the stairs, his eyebrow quirked in question as he steps down from the last platform, “think you’re doing here?”

“We wanted some change in scenery.” Niall quips sarcastically, emerging from the end of the entrance corridor with his hands in his pockets, shoulders shrugging casually. “And I told Xander you might be shirtless, which got him to tag along. But you’re not, much to his disappointment. Though I do think the way you’re about to burst out of that tee suffices. Isn’t that right, Xanny?” 

“That’s not true!” Xander snaps hotly, his cheeks blazing and glare electric as Niall cackles boyishly, stepping around him and towards the kitchen, like he always does when he walks into Harry’s apartment. The tanned man glowers at the other vampire as he makes a beeline for Harry’s refrigerator, slowly pinning his gaze back onto the owner of the condo. He clears his throat awkwardly before offering a solid explanation for their sudden visit. “Adam cancelled on pub trivia night, so we thought you might be available instead.”

Harry shakes his head with a sigh as he makes his way into the kitchen, as well— mostly to make sure Niall doesn’t reach for any of the expensive liquors he has arranged on his bar shelves; they took too long to collect for him to just allow a single person to down one bottle like a shot— and leans both elbows against the marble island. “Sorry, mate.  I’ve got a date with Y/N.”

“So bring her.” Niall pipes up from the fridge, a stolen bottle of Harry’s favourite beer already in his hand. Harry doesn’t complain— it’s a better substitute than his forty year aged scotch. “She went to uni, didn’t she?  She must be smart.”

“I’ve got better things planned for us than pub trivia with two obnoxious knobheads.” Harry retorts, his lips tugging into a smirk at Niall’s responding eyeroll. “That’s not very romantic, is it?  Taking her on a double date with you two?”

“And that’s not very nice, H. I’m offended you wouldn’t go on a double date with Xander and I.” The Irishman sniffles with fake sincerity, biting the bottle cap off his beer despite knowing that Harry keeps a bottle opener in the kitchen drawer to his right. 

Xander watches the spectacle with distaste, his nose wrinkling as Niall spits the cap from his mouth into his hand. “And I’m offended you’d think I’d date someone who does that.”

“It’s not like you have standards.”

“Hey!”

“But then again, no one sets a bar the way I do.”

“The only bar you set for me was potential alcoholism.” Xander mutters spitefully.

“I’d make a great boyfriend.” Niall interrupts with airy confidence, ignoring his friends bickering and taking a deep swig of his beverage, smacking his lips appreciatively. “But humans are too fragile to keep around for long, and most vampires are fucking psychotic. Unfortunately.”

“What about Charlotte?” Harry suggests nonchalantly, hooking his index finger into the cabinet beneath him and fishing for a coaster. He shuts the drawer and skims the item across the top of the counter towards Niall, just in case the man wants to put his glass container down. This is real marble, after all. “She seems pretty tame.” 

Niall glances at the coaster, but doesn’t make any conscious effort to set his drink down. Harry should’ve known; Niall isn’t one to put a pint down until it’s empty, but the possibility is there, nonetheless. It’s not his fault he likes taking care of his home. 

Niall sighs through his nose dismissively, following it with a light rattle of his head. “Charlotte’s too...smart. She’s a bit out of my league, and I feel like she’d get bored of me easily. Also, how would you know if she’s tame or not? You rarely hang out whenever she’s around.” 

“That’s because she hates me.” Harry states flatly, as if it should be obvious. And it should, considering the young woman had not held back on expressing her strong dislike towards the curly brunette. Harry has thick skin and words never hurt him, but Charlotte has a surprisingly vicious vocabulary; if he hadn’t been amused by her anger, she would have come pretty close to genuinely chipping his ego. 

Niall chortles softly. “Well, I mean, you can’t really blame her, can you? You’re kind of a prick.”

“A proper asshole, actually.” Xander chimes in, drumming his digits against the table’s surface and giving Harry a bright, innocent smile. 

The immortal momentarily casts his eyes towards the ceiling in mild annoyance. “Yeah, well, that’s just the way I am. If her and Miss Billy Ray Cyrus can’t handle some dark humor and dirty banter, that’s not my problem. Everyone else seems to like me just fine.” 

“That’s debatable.” Xander corrects. 

“You’re just mad I fucked you once and decided that was enough.” 

“Anywho,” Niall interferes, waving around his beer in order to catch his friends’ attention and prevent a catastrophic World War V, he proceeeds to swivel the topic back onto himself, “like I said, I’d make a great partner. I’m funny, I’ve got a whole shelf full of PS4 games, I like to think my oral skills are pretty decent, and—”

“Have you ever made a girl wet her sheets?” Harry prods with entertained curiosity, cocking an eyebrow questioningly.

Niall pauses mid-sentence with his drink perched to his lips, eyes flitting around thoughtfully as he shovels through cluttered memories of drunken one night stands and fleeting relationships. He relents with a sheepish scoff, shoulders sagging. “...No.”

“Then you’re not as skilled as you think.” Harry remarks passively, titling his head to the side with finality. “And I’m willing to bet Mitch’s next stock of O negative that eighty percent of your hookups probably faked it.” 

“Oi, bet, then.” Niall snorts, grinning around the spout of his beverage as he finishes his sip. He wiggles his brows playfully, squaring his shoulders proudly. “You can’t fake a leg-shake, darling.” 

“A leg-shake?” Harry inquires carefully, pursing his lips to keep from sputtering into pompous laughter. “You mean like this?” He then proceeds to dramatically buckle his right leg, immediately debunking Niall’s ridiculous theory. “Just like that?” 

The Irish bloke’s face drops into a scorned scowl as Xander and Harry break into a round of mocking giggles. He draws into himself with childish pettiness, narrowing his eyes pointedly. “Piss off.”

“Unless she couldn’t walk right afterwards, you didn’t really do what you think you did, Ni.” 

“It seemed pretty real to me!” The blue-eyed boy rebuttals sharply, cheeks tinging bright pink in embarrassment. 

“That’s the point.” 

“This is precisely why I’d never entertain a relationship with you, even as a joke.” Xander pipes up towards Niall, smirking cruelly at his friend’s bruised ego. “I like my orgasms to be real, and I’m not willing to put up an act to spare your fragile masculinity.” 

“Your dick’s probably small, anyways.” 

“Bigger than yours.”

“Is that a challenge? I’ll pull it out right now, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Well,” Harry cuts in loudly, not necessarily keen on watching two grown men compare penis sizes in the middle of his home, “it seems you two have some issues to work out, so the double date is a moot point, anyways.” His jade eyes flicker to his watch again; Y/N should nearly be here, and he doesn’t want these two goons present when she arrives— especially not with their balls out. That wouldn’t be a decent introduction, despite being an unforgettable one. “So I’ll talk to you two later, then.  Thanks for stopping by.”

“Hold up, I practically just cracked my beer.” Niall whines in return, holding up the chilled bottle in protest, leaning his backside against the marble countertop with a decisive motion. “Y’can’t kick us out yet.”

Harry laughs once, the noise sounding more strained than he would like. “Seeing as how I didn’t invite you over, I think I can.” He retorts, tapping a jeweled finger against the table. 

“The blood bag isn’t even here yet,” Xander reasons as he pulls out a chair from the kitchen island, taking a seat and making himself at home as if Harry hadn’t just told him to get the fuck out. “So what's the rush?”

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck prickles at the crude nickname, and the older vampire shoots daggers at the younger as he pushes himself off the marble counter. “There isn’t one, except I think hearing herself be referred to as ‘the blood bag’ may make her a little suspicious, don’t you?”

“We’ve referred to her as worse.” Xander shrugs offhandedly, kicking his feet up onto the bar stool next to him.

Harry’s brows furrow as he pushes Xander’s shoes off his furniture, dusting the leather cushion off. “Referred to her as what?  And when?”

Although Xander lifts one shoulder again as a vague answer, Niall smacks his lips loudly once again as he swallows the rest of the beer, and answers in a matter-of-fact tone. “In Vegas, after you ditched us to get your dick wet.  I think Xander called her a fuckable slab of kobe beef, and—”

“I said ribeye, actually.  Nice flavour, but a little chewy.” Xander corrects the Irishman, but has the decency to look halfway embarrassed when he catches Harry’s stony glare. “And it’s not like we’re wrong, right?  That’s all humans are.”

Niall gives an affirmative nod as he sets his empty bottle down on the marble counter, completely ignoring the coaster Harry had slid to him. “Don’t take it personally, H.  Xanny refers to his own dates as McDonald’s Happy Meal Twinks— at least a ribeye steak is expensive.”

“I’m not taking it personally.” Harry mutters the words in a low voice as his jaw twitches, tensing under the sunlight streaming through his floor-to-ceiling windows. “But comments like these are why you pricks need to get out of here before she shows up, or else I’ll be feeding from one of you tonight.”

A beat of silence falls between the three vampires as the palpable tension flowing off of Harry thickens the room.  Xander and Niall glance between each other and Harry, hardly able to hold the latter’s eyes, before Niall offers a small comment.

“I don’t think Xander would mind that, really—”

“Out.” Harry points a jeweled finger at the entrance corridor with a firm motion. “Both of you.  Go bother Mitch.”

He can see the disappointment and frustration that lingers on Niall and Xander’s faces, but neither of them fight him as they rise from their perches in the kitchen and walk dejectedly to the front door.  Harry briefly entertains the idea of walking them out, but decides against it; there’s a strange buzzing sensation rising through his ribs, and he’s not quite sure what he’ll say as he bids his friends— he has to remind himself that, yes, they’re his friends— goodbye.  It’s safer, he thinks, if he stays where he is and cleans up the mess that they managed to leave behind in their short visit. 

He comes to regret that decision, however, approximately three milliseconds after he hears the front door creak open, and a familiar but unexpected voice echos down the entrance hallway.

“Oh— hi.  Sorry, I may have the wrong apartment…?”

Harry freezes with Niall’s empty beer bottle clutched in his hand, his grip contracting so hard that he hears the thick glass begin to splinter.

“No, no, this is Harry’s apartment.  We were just leaving.” The grin on Niall’s face is audible underneath his Irish accent. “You must be Y/N.”

“I am, yeah.” Harry can hear the tiny thread of surprise at him recognizing her in the human’s words, and the even tinier thread of pleasure that undercuts it.  “And you must be...Niall, I think?  And Xander?”

Niall’s smug reply grates against Harry’s frozen skin, even from down the corridor. “Harry’s told you about us, huh?  Only good things, I hope.”

“Oh, I—”

Harry forces his legs to move with inhuman speed, the beer bottle not even having hit the marble counter by the time Harry appears at Niall and Xander’s shoulders. “Hi, darling.” He says through a strained smile, digging his stony fingers into the back of the two vampire’s arms, an unspoken warning of behave. “Y’made it alright, then?”

When Y/N shines a warm— albeit, slightly confused— smile in his direction, Harry wishes that he’d been faster in shooing his friends out the door, because the action nearly knocks the unrequired breath from his chest.  

She’d dressed in comfortable and casual clothes, as per his suggestion, and is standing just outside the doorway in light washed denim overalls, with a black and white striped t-shirt layered underneath, and her familiar cotton candy pink vans on her feet.  But the detail that digs its way to the forefront of his mind— more so than her satin lips, her heated cheeks that are appled with her smile, and the tousled locks that are pulled back from her face in a low ponytail— is the shining silver cross pendant that hangs on a chain around her smooth neck.

It’s a new addition that Harry has never seen before, and while he knows he shouldn’t be surprised— after all, she’d told him how she grew up in a religious town, how she’d attended church, how she used to say grace before dinner with her friends— the jewelry still piques his curiosity.

“I did, yeah.  It’s really not that long of a walk, H.” Y/N replies, flicking her eyes between Harry and his two friends, who are still watching her every move as if she’s a specimen to be observed. “Sorry, am I interrupting…?”

The Irishman with glasses— Niall, Y/N reminds herself— opens his mouth to respond, but Harry quickly cuts him off as he pushes past his mates to take Y/N’s hand and step outside the apartment, fetching his keys and yellow sunglasses from the small side table by the door in one smooth motion.

“Not interrupting anything, doll.  Niall and Xander were just on their way out.” Although Harry is smiling at her throughout the comment, the mortal can’t help but feel like the last phrase was aimed at the pair still lingering in the doorway.

“We were just stopping by to see if we could steal Harry for a last minute trivia game, but he said he was already booked.” Niall answers with an accepting shrug, glancing at Xander next to him, who’s still yet to say anything to Y/N, though he is carrying an unreadable empty expression as he gives the girl a calculating once-over. “Apparently, whatever he’s got planned for you two is more interesting than a few beers and watching Xander struggle to remember all the battles in World War I—”

“That’s not fair,” The brunette finally chimes in, breaking his attention away from her body to meet the blue-eyed boy’s gaze. Y/N is surprised to hear an American accent fall from his lips. “I’m the only one who wasn’t there, so how would I know—?”

“And you two are already arguing,” Harry cuts over his friends’ bickering, shooting them an annoyed glance as he wraps a cool arm around her waist, cautioning them to watch what they’re saying. “Which will only get worse once you get alcohol in your hands, and that is why I’m not going to subject Y/N to a headache-inducing night of torture.” 

Y/N looks up at Harry with innocent interest swirling in her eyes. “I don’t know, H, it could be fun.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as a crease forms between Harry’s brows. “Don’t you think?”

Niall catches Harry’s eye, taking advantage of Y/N’s distraction to cheekily flash him his crimson irises for a split second, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm that only he can detect. “Yeah, Harry. Don’t you think?”

Jaw tensing, Harry bends down to brush his lips over Y/N’s ear, dampening his irritation down into a smooth and silky tone. “Don’t try to spare their feelings, love.  I’ve got something fun planned for us, I promise.” His teeth graze against Y/N’s skin, and he nearly drags his lips down towards her neck until he remembers her stuttering heartbeat can be heard by the other vampires in their presence.

The two creatures gawk at the image before them, utterly baffled at Harry’s unusual tenderness. It’s very out of character for him, that much is obvious. In all the decades Niall and Xander have been acquainted with the Victorian era immortal, neither have ever seen him be so gentle and touchy with another soul, let alone a human. It feels as if they’re looking at some type of warped parallel universe version of the normally stand-offish young man. 

Xander is the first to clear his throat, throwing Harry an annoyed grimace before pulling Niall out from the condo’s entryway. “We’ll see you later then, Harry.  C’mon, Ni.”

The Irishman offers a quick goodbye, gifting the strange girl a frail wave and a parting smile before being half-dragged down the hallway by Xander. Niall wrenches himself free and shoves Xander’s shoulder playfully as they round the corner to the elevator, their quiet voices— no doubt spinning juvenile gossip— fading out of earshot.  The look in Xander’s eyes had been concerning, Harry thinks, but nothing he needs to worry about right now.  If anything, he wants to forget that encounter as quickly as possible, and needs Y/N to forget it, too.

“So,” he pastes an easygoing grin onto his face as he locks his front door, turning to the mortal with a giddy twinkle in his forest green eyes. “Shall we be off, then?”

There’s a lingering look of confusion reflecting back at him, but Y/N doesn’t press the odd encounter as Harry intertwines his icy fingers with her own warm digits. 

“Alright.” She agrees, raising a questioning eyebrow back at him. “And just where are we going?”

///

“The Los Angeles Antique Mall.” Harry announces proudly when he opens Y/N’s door, extending a ringed hand to help her out of his low-riding car. “Twenty thousand square feet of vintage collectables, artwork, furniture, and anything else you could possibly want.”

Y/N stares up at the massive building in front of them, observing the worn wood facade and the collection of what seems to be (half faded) stained rocking chairs adorning the wraparound porch.  There’s also an impressive amount of wrought iron planters with various greenery scattered between the furniture, with groups of people milling between them as they enter and exit the giant mall. 

“You brought me antiquing?” She asks, an bemused look in her eye as she turns to Harry for an explanation. 

Wrapping his large grasp around her smaller one, Harry nods enthusiastically as he begins to lead her towards the door. “Yeah.  It’s fun, actually.  I’m always up for a bit of a treasure hunt, and I thought, since you’re still furnishing your apartment…”

“You know, now that you mention it… I could use some new curtains for my living room.  Maybe a nice side table.” Y/N allows, stepping over the wooden stairs to the door as Harry tugs her along. “But I’m surprised you like antiquing.  Doesn’t really seem like your thing, if I’m honest.”

A mischievous glint flits through Harry’s jade eyes as he treats her to a grin that’s all teeth. “I’m actually quite fond of antiques, truth be told.  I’ve got a good eye for vintage collectables.  And…” He lazily tugs on the handle of the door to open it, stepping to the side to allow Y/N to walk through first. “Maybe we’ll find a nice painting to replace that god awful tapestry in your bedroom.”

A scoff of indignation falls from Y/N’s mouth as she turns on her heel to punch Harry’s sturdy upper arm, nearly getting too distracted by the ropes of muscle beneath his tight sleeve to give a response. “I like that tapestry!  And, seeing as how you’re either sleeping or fucking me when you’re in said room, I’m a little offended that my tapestry is the thing you focus the most on.”

Harry bites his bottom lip between his teeth.  If only she knew how much time he actually spends staring at it. 

“Well, there’s certainly other things I focus on…” He replies with a casual air, slipping his hand into the back pocket of Y/N’s overalls to cup her ass suggestively, guiding her along the aisles of antiques. “But nothing ruins a post-orgasm glow like poor interior design, sweetheart. S’a bit of a buzzkill, y’know?”

“So is being patronized.” Y/N deadpans, extracting Harry’s hand from her back pocket as a hot flash begins to creep up her spine. “You keep mocking my interior design choices, and your orgasms are going to get a lot less frequent.”

The vampire belly laughs as he throws an arm around her shoulders, the action as natural to him as breathing once was. “I don’t believe that for one fucking second.” He replies gleefully, smudging an open mouthed kiss to Y/N’s temple. 

“You don’t, huh?” The human girl raises an eyebrow, cocking her head to scan the towering racks of oddities all around them. “I wonder if we can find you a vintage fleshlight here?”

“Already got one, doll,” Harry rolls his eyes as he brushes his cool fingers along Y/N’s exposed collarbone, his eyes catching the cross pendant again and brimming with curiosity. “And it’s just the tip of the iceberg that is my toy chest, y’know that—” 

Y/N feels Harry’s arm suddenly tense around her, his muscles contracting as his touch jolts away from her collarbones, his hand flexing beneath the open skylights of the building. “Everything okay?” Y/N asks, all her teasing fading away, replaced with concern as she pauses her steps toward the shelves. 

“I—” Harry flexes his fingers again, slowly removing his arm from her shoulder to examine his hand.  The tips of his fingers are a bright red, crimson burns contrasting against his pink skin, and although it only takes a few moments for the marks to fade, the uneasy feeling bubbling in Harry’s stomach lasts. “Yeah.  My, uh, my hand just cramped.  But it’s fine now, I think.”

Who the fuck, he wonders as he cautiously slings his arm back around Y/N’s shoulders, wears a cross made of, not silver as Harry originally suspected, but polished iron?  

Iron jewelry had fallen out of fashion a century ago, and Harry had never been more thankful than when it did, given how his flesh scorches at merely brushing the metal. When he took his family’s trinkets as a way to remember them before he had to leave, Harry had snuck into his father’s forge in the dead of the night to dip the jewelry in gold that he’d stolen from a local merchant who cheated poor peasants out of their valuables.  It had been a tedious task, and rather dangerous due to the threat of being caught, but it had also been necessary; if he hadn’t taken the risk, he wouldn’t have his sister’s cross earring, or his father’s matching cross necklace.  His dad’s pocket watch, luckily, had been made of silver, and didn’t need a golden bath, but everything else had to be encased to protect Harry’s skin.  

Iron jewelry had been a deterrent to him in the years to come after he was turned; it wasn’t uncommon for him to find a pretty young girl from a village and sneak her away for a night of fun, only to discover an iron chain dangling from her neck when he leaned in to take a bite.  It wasn’t a permanent problem, of course, as there were plenty of other soft places he could sink his teeth into, but it had been an annoyance then, and it still annoys him now. 

Harry does his best to push the irritation to the back of his mind, he really does.  He shows Y/N around the twisting maze of antiques, and does his best to showcase one of his favourite hideaways in L.A.  He points to anything and everything that could interest her, and doesn’t hesitate when she asks him to reach something heavy perched on a high shelf, even if she just wants to examine it out of curiosity.  Harry pulls out typewriters, vintage cameras, tarnished cigarette lighters, and a pastel yellow bicycle with an attached wicker basket from 1941, presenting all of the objects with the enthusiasm of a showcase model on The Price is Right, spouting falsified information about each product in the best impression of Bob Barker he can pull off (“This ancient, rusted bicycle— once owned by the Queen of England herself— can be all yours for just one easy payment of $8.99! Taxes and shipping not included.”). 

And although all of that incites multiple tinkling laughs from Y/N, and lights a glimmer in her eye, and compels her to walk closer and closer to Harry until she lets him sneak his palm back into the backside pocket of her overalls, the mystery of her necklace still eats at the far end of his brain. And it’s that insipid, insistent pest of a thought that causes Harry to readjust his grip on the framed Monet print he’d spotted in the racks (Y/N had tried to deny how much she liked it in order to thwart Harry’s triumphant smirk, but she still asked him to grab it for her with a grumble) and spare another glance to the innocent looking cross resting atop her clavicle. 

“That’s a pretty little piece.” Harry slips into a nonchalant tone with ease, nodding towards the necklace as he navigates the two of them around a corner. “Why have I never seen you wear it before?”

Y/N brushes her fingertips over the iron cross with a gentle motion.  Her fingers don’t scorch with a mere graze of the metal, Harry notes scathingly.  Not that he expected it from someone like Y/N. 

“Because I don’t wear it often.” She replies, lifting one shoulder without a second thought. “It was my grandmother’s— not, like, originally, but she’d owned it, and gave it to my mom, who gave it to me, so I guess it counts as a family heirloom, huh?”

“Guess so.” The vampire murmurs in agreement, prickles of wonder still coasting against his skin. “So what made you drag it out today?” Did you subconsciously realize that your neck needs protection when I’m near? Harry tacks on in his head, his brow furrowing at the troubling thought. 

And at that question, Y/N’s eyes drop to the floor, as if her bubblegum pink vans need an audience for every step they take. “Uh, I was just a little homesick, that’s all.” She mumbles the reply, her shoulders sagging as a dark shadow passes through her usually dazzling eyes. 

Homesickness.  The one human feeling that Harry can still relate to. “I’m sorry to hear that, darling.” He removes his hand from her back pocket to wind it around her shoulders again, mindful of the jewelry in question. “Did anything in particular happen, or…?”

Y/N lifts her shoulders once again as she tucks her hands into her pockets, her posture closing off more and more with every passing moment. “Not really.  I don’t know, I— normally I’m fine, but when I addressed my letter to my parents today, it took me a moment to remember my ZIP code.  It’s the same ZIP code I’ve had all my life, but… I nearly forgot it.” She glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, and Harry realizes that dark shadow is guilt.  She feels guilty. “I’ve been in L.A. for less than six months, and almost forgot my parent’s ZIP code.  I didn’t think that could ever happen.”

Harry hums low in his throat, a noise of understanding and finality.  It’s homesickness, that’s all.  That’s explainable, and understandable, and should be enough information to silence the gnawing irritation in his chest. 

And yet...

“Do you believe in God?” The question escapes from Harry’s mouth before he can even think to censor it, his own eyes widening on his behalf as his grip on the Monet print nearly releases from the surprise. 

“What?” Y/N stops in her tracks, although she nearly stumbles forward when Harry’s sturdy arm catches behind her shoulders as her eyes boggle at him. “I don’t— what does God have to do with antiquing?”

If Harry didn’t have to worry about digging himself out of the whole he created, he’d laugh at the incredulous expression on his lover’s face. “I was just curious, s’all.” He struggles to keep his voice casual, steadying his feet against the wooden floor in an effort to ground himself mentally. “I know you were raised with religion, but you don’t really go to church here— not that church equals a belief, but—”

“Um, I don’t…” Y/N extends her arm to let her fingers graze over the shelf of old lunch boxes next to them, feeling each dip of every embossed cartoon character. “I don’t know.  I don’t really believe in, like, a concept of God— at least, not the one I was raised with.  But I believe in…” She trails off as she attempts to gather her thoughts, chewing on her bottom lip absentmindedly as she searches for the right words. “Something.  I don’t really know if it’s a deity, or an energy, or just coincidence, but… I think there’s something out there that guides us.”

“So you believe in souls.” Harry’s mouth presses into a flat line, his jaw clenching for just a moment as he grits his teeth and then reiterates her previous point. “The thing that allows us to be guided, that is.” 

Or allows her to be guided, Harry thinks bitterly, casting his eyes towards their path ahead of them to avoid Y/N’s prying gaze. That’s really the only reason he’d brought up this entire religion conversation— the only reason he ever brings it up: he wants to know if she believes in souls, because in order to be guided by whatever higher power supposedly exists, one needs a soul.  And Harry’s fairly certain his was stolen from him in 1837. 

“I suppose.” Y/N allows, tracing the embossed lettering of a vintage Wonder Woman lunch box. “A soul, an energy, an aura— they’re all kind of the same thing to me.  The thing that keeps your heart beating.  I don’t think it needs to be tied to a religion; there’s so many different religions, but everyone has a heartbeat, you know?”

Harry nearly laughs out loud at the irony, but manages to stifle the sound into a non-committal hum. “Does your something include heaven and hell, or is that too based in Christianity?” He asks, half out of curiosity and half out of necessity. “If someone were to lose their soul…” He knows he sounds insane asking the question, but it bubbles out of him before he can choke it back. “Would you think them damned?”

The mortal girl stares at him blankly for a moment, her mouth just barely open as she considers his words.  He shouldn’t have asked, and he knows that— he knew it the moment the first question fell from his lips.  But the more they discussed the topic, the more it nagged at him.  Y/N, with all her good nature, her listening skills, and her soft heart, are most certainly bound for whatever good lies in store when a soul actually leaves a body.  Harry, on the other hand… If the monster’s conscience were to ever leave this Earth, he knows it’s not for the metaphorical pearly white gates. And for some reason, that notion bothers him more right now than it has in the last twenty decades.

“Um…” A nervous laugh echoes from Y/N’s mouth, the smile curling the edges of her lips not quite reaching her eyes. “Okay, this topic is way too serious for me to discuss sober.  Can I take a rain check on the damnation questions?  I’m getting Sunday school flashbacks, and living through that once was bad enough.”

Harry wills a smile onto his own face, but the expression is more apologetic than anything as he grips Y/N’s hand in his to tow her down an aisle of antique kitchen equipment. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you with such heavy questions. I guess I just wanted to get to know my partner in justice a bit more.” 

Y/N takes it in good stride, just as she usually does, her smile relaxing the moment she sees Harry’s dimples peek out from his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it, Sherlock.  I’d expect nothing less from such an established detective.”

As the pair pass under another skylight, Y/N’s cross glints at Harry as if to mock him. 

///

Y/N isn’t lost.

To the untrained eye, the mindless path she takes through the towering and twisting rows of the antique mall may seem like the wandering of someone who has no recollection of where they came from, nor where they’re going, but Y/N is adamant that she isn’t lost.  She isn’t, because when she split from Harry to take a trip to the washroom, he’d warned her not to get lost in the internal maze of the mall.  And Y/N, with a glare in her eyes and a scathing remark on her lips, had assured him that she, a grown woman, would be able to find her way back after she was done, and “Honestly, H, just wander a bit.  I’ll be able to find you easily.”

So Y/N isn’t lost, because she refuses to prove Harry right.  He’s already a cocky asshole with a huge ego, and she couldn’t bear seeing that ego enlarge as a triumphant smirk paints over his face the moment she calls him on his cellphone, admits defeat, and asks him to come find her.  She’ll do a lot of things for that man, but that isn’t one of them.

With that in mind, she turns down a corridor of the labyrinth of collectables, trying to find any discernible items that she could use to pinpoint her location in the labyrinth.  The yellow bicycle, maybe, or one of the vintage cameras Harry had pretended to photograph her with, or even the strange five foot carving of Bugs Bunny that she and Harry had agreed is probably possessed by a demon.  A haunted Bugs Bunny could lead her to her destination— or kill her, truthfully, but either option seems preferable over the solidifying future of having to call Harry.

After another five minutes of aimless ambling, Y/N retrieves her phone from her pocket, a grimace crawling its way onto her face as she opens her contacts to click on Harry’s name.  Her finger hovers just over the phone icon, mere millimetres from humiliation, when a few out of place piano notes float by her ears and catch her attention.

Y/N tucks her phone back into her overall pocket as her curiosity takes over, urging her ears to strain towards the distant melody, as well as for her legs to follow. It’s not long before Y/N is walking with purpose again, albeit a different purpose than before.  As the music gets louder, Y/N begins to pick out more details— how the piano notes that prick her ears are slightly out of tune, how the player begins and stops and begins again, dragging out different phrases, speeding through others with no clear intention.  The minor key of the piece makes Y/N feel like she’s walking into a memory as she wades through the shelves of long-forgotten belongings, old photographs of deceased people in Victorian fashions watching while the young woman falls back in time.

The music grows louder as Y/N reaches a dark corridor with wood paneling lining the walls, and a painted sign saying “Music Room” beckons her down the passageway.  She follows with slow steps, and while she knows that maybe leaving the main mall area and losing her way down here isn’t a smart idea, the music that’s beginning to grow impossibly sweet pulls her forward.  Y/N rounds the corner to find the oak doors to the music room swung open, and when she lays her eyes on the figure sitting at the mahogany ground piano, she recognizes the silhouette of Harry’s back and shoulders immediately.

Y/N’s gaze falls from his flexing shoulder blades to his inked hands, the jewels on his rings catching the low light of the room as his lithe fingers dance over the dusty ivory keys.  He coaxes a melody from the instrument without any difficulty, as if the music had been simmering beneath his skin for ages.  Maybe it has, Y/N thinks, as she watches from the doorway with quiet wonder, and although she plans on silently observing for as long as she can, Harry only completes a few more phrases before the music drifts to a halt.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d find me.” He murmurs, clearing his throat of the rasp that had settled in his vocal chords as he played. “Thought I’d be getting a scared phone call any moment now.”

The human girl steps into the room slowly, gliding around to the cut out of the piano and leaning across the lacquered wood. “I wasn’t scared.  And I would’ve found you sooner if you’d stayed put. I said wander a bit, not all the way across the building.” She retorts jokingly, trailing a finger along the smooth edge of the piano. All of the sarcasm in her voice melts right out, replaced by intrigue. “I didn’t know you played piano.”

“I, uh, I don’t.  Not much anymore, anyways.” Harry runs his digits between the keys again, using only enough pressure to dust the top of the ivory covers. “I wasn’t sure I’d remember how, honestly, but this…” He lifts an index finger to brush the dust off the gold embossed brand name. “It looks like the one I learned on, so…”

Y/N takes a seat on the wooden bench next to Harry, her shoulder bumping against his as she leans in to smudge a kiss across his cheek. “It sounded beautiful.” She assures him, noting the hesitation in his explanation. “What’s that piece called?”

“It’s one of Chopin’s Nocturnes, in C-Sharp Minor.” Harry curves his fingers over the keys, as if he’s about to begin again, but then relaxes the digits as he exhales harshly. “I don’t play it as well as— as the person who taught me.”

There seems to be a hidden story beneath those words, but Y/N doesn’t press it; if Harry wants to tell her, then he’ll tell her.  If not… Well, she’d rather not drag a sour memory from him in the middle of an antique mall.  Instead, she drags her fingers over his thigh, rubbing just above his knee in a comforting manner. 

“How long have you been playing?” She asks softly, tracing over a black lacquered key with her free hand.  When she pulls away, her finger is coated in dust, and she wonders how long it’s been since the piano has been touched by someone else.

The corner of Harry’s lips twitch, as if her question is particularly humorous. “A while.” He answers simply, and he tilts his head to the side to press his face against the top of Y/N’s head, inhaling the scent of her favourite shampoo. 

“A while?” Y/N repeats the vague answer to prompt further explanation, but when she gets none, she switches to another inquiry. “Can you play me something?”

The moment she utters the question, Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No, I— no.  I’m not that good, love, and I don’t really play for people.”

Surprise colors Y/N’s voice when she replies, lifting her head from Harry’s shoulder to look him in the eye. “This isn’t the time for false modesty, H.” She says, tapping two fingers against his knee as punctuation. “Since when have you been humble?”

A bark of a laugh escapes Harry’s chest in spite of himself, and he curls his fingers over Y/N’s to move her hand further up his thigh. “I’m not modest!  Don’t insult me like that, darling.  S’not nice.”

“Prove it, then.” Y/N massages over Harry’s inner thigh as she issues the challenge, baiting the vampire’s ego with ease. “Play me something.  Show off a little bit.”

Harry squeezes Y/N’s hand once as a quiet groan twists his lips into a pout. “You’re getting pretty good at manipulating me, y’know that?” He mutters, poising his lacquered fingertips back over the instrument. “Fine.  Do you want something sad or happy?”

Y/N ponders the question as she leans her head back onto Harry’s shoulder, her lips finding the edge of his jaw and pecking his cool skin for just a moment. “Both.”

“Both.” Harry repeats with a snort, shaking his head in exasperation as his hands drift to a new position on the keys. “Indecisive little thing, aren’t you?”

The mortal girl lifts her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug, scratching her nails along the fabric of Harry’s pants. “Just play me something.  Please?”

It’s the simplest request with the most complicated implication, but Harry can’t find a good reason to refuse it. 

“This is, um, another Chopin piece.” He feels clumsy in his explanation, struggling to remember the details that he’d once memorized in an effort to seem impressive. “Another Nocturne, in E-flat this time.”

Harry’s fingers begin to dance over the keys, and Y/N listens in amazement as a melody that is both happy and sad begins to spiral out from the body of the piano, wrapping her inside the warmth of the music.  

Not every phrase is even— the more Harry plays, it seems, the more the music phrases, bending and shaping itself around his elegant fingers, rolling with his every movement.  As the music begins to get sadder, however, Y/N notices the change in Harry’s face, and how each phrase begins to get choppier as his fingers stumble their way over the keys. 

Y/N smudges another kiss against Harry’s jaw when his fingers trip up again, squeezing his knee with reassurance. “Keep going.” She murmurs, rubbing his leg lightly as the music stutters again. “It’s nice.”

“I—” The music halts with a jerk of Harry’s hands, which he retracts from the keys as if the ivory burns him. “I don’t remember the rest.” He mumbles, laying his stubbled cheek against the top of Y/N’s head. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.  I really liked it.” Y/N trails her own fingers over the keys, pressing a few of the lacquered notes with idle interest.  The melody she spins out isn’t nearly as nice as the one Harry played, and she laughs at her own expense. “I’m not nearly as good.  I took a few lessons as a kid, but begged my mom to let me quit.  I wish I’d stuck with it.”

“That wasn’t too bad.” Harry’s dimples wink at her as he smiles boyishly, nodding to the keys with false reassurance. “That little tune sounded a lot like Mozart.”

“Uh huh.” The mortal girl rolls her eyes at the lie, bracing her palms against the polished wooden bench before rising from her seat. “Despite that praise, I don’t think I’ll be adding this piano to my shopping cart.” 

“Hm.  Too bad.” Her lover trails his fingers after her, reaching for her hand and intertwining her grasp with his. “It could make a pretty addition to your apartment, I think.”

“It would take up my entire apartment, more like it.” Y/N scoffs as she raps the fingers of her free hand against the side of the piano. “I don’t even think I could fit this in my living room.  Your apartment, however…” She raises an eyebrow as a grin works its way over her face. “You could fit it easily.  You should buy it.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he lets her hand fall from his palm, touching the keys one last time before shutting the cover over the keyboard. “I’m not buying the piano.”

“Why not?” Eyes widening in surprise, Y/N leans onto the instrument, gesturing with her arms the same way Harry did earlier as she shifts her voice to mimic Bob Barker. “It’s made of genuine mahogany, was once played by Beethoven himself, and can be yours, for the low, low price of—” She reaches around the side of the instrument to grab the tag tied around the leg. “Eight hundred and—holy shit, are you kidding me?”

Harry hums in response as he rises from the bench, shrugging his shoulders before crossing his arms around his tummy. “That’s actually a fairly good price for a used piano, you know.” 

Y/N blinks at him, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find words. “I— okay, yeah.  Sure.  So you should get it, then, if you consider that a ‘fairly good price’.” 

“I could,” Harry agrees, his muscles flexing beneath his tight t-shirt as he reaches to pick up the painting leaning against the instrument. “But I won’t.”

Her brow wrinkling in confusion, Y/N watches as Harry begins to examine the other objects in the room, turning his attention to the book-lined shelves and antique lamps. “Why?” 

The man sighs as he fingers the tassels hanging from a— in Y/N’s humble opinion— particularly ugly lamp. “Because I already have one—”

“You do?”

“—but it’s been in storage ever since I got to L.A. And while I usually love things in excess… alcohol, statement jewelry, orgasms—” He flashes a toothy grin at Y/N. “I don’t think overly-heavy instruments fall into any of those categories.”

“Why is it in storage?” Y/N asks, bemusement laced through her voice.  Before Harry began to stumble through the piece, there was a look on his face that Y/N hasn’t seen very often; a serene air swirled through his eyes, hiding something beneath it that Y/N couldn’t quite make out.  And she wants to. 

“Because I don’t have any interest in playing anymore.  Honestly, darling, I haven’t thought about it in years.” Harry laughs in a nonchalant manner, moving from the antique lamp to the creaking rocking chair in the corner. “Y’can have it, if you like.  Probably do you more good than me.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the deflection, turning her attention away from the topic at hand. “I’m good.” She responds dryly, drifting over to the floor to ceiling bookshelf bolted to the wall. 

Her eyes trail over the exposed spines of the books, reading over the variety of titles with piqued interest.  The amount of genres she sees is countless, ranging from trashy paperback romance novels to timeless classics embossed in gold.  The farther up Y/N glances, the older the books appear, and she gets more and more curious as she glides her fingers over the rippled covers of the books within her reach.

While the novels climb up the height of the bookshelf to the ceiling, Y/N can only manage to reach halfway up the length she needs to, even while stretching on her tiptoes.  She settles down on the balls of her feet with a pout playing on her lips, her attention turning to the wheeled ladder that runs along bars bolted to the bottom of the shelving unit.  It looks rather old— like everything in the antique mall— and Y/N isn’t quite sure it’ll support her weight, despite her test of gripping a rung and pushing on it.

“Harry, c’mere,” She calls over her shoulder, hands gripping the sides of the dusty ladder as she balances a foot on the bottom rung.

Upon her beckoning, Harry saunters over, the painted print she’d selected still grasped in his ringed hand. “Yeah?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in question. “What is it?”

“Can you help me climb up the ladder?” Y/N nods her head towards the far-reaching shelves, biting her bottom lip with pleading eyes. “I want to see what’s on the top shelves.”

Harry’s gaze follows Y/N’s gesture towards the top of the library wall, a look of trepidation flickering through his eyes. “Is that really necessary?”

“Yes,” Y/N answers curtly, lifting her other foot onto the bottom rung before moving from her original step to the next. “And it’ll be a lot easier if you help me.”

Despite his protests, Harry sets down the framed print and complies with the request, grasping Y/N around her waist with firm hands as she scurries up the rickety ladder.  She can feel his fingertips pressing into her love handles over the denim, and it would be a lie to say she doesn’t enjoy it, but she refocuses her attention onto reading over the embossed titles that she couldn’t see from below.

“Y’know, on second thought… take all the time you need, dove.” Harry calls from below her, the smirk evident in his voice as he squeezes her hips once with a laugh. “I’ve got quite the view from here.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N releases one hand from the ladder to tug a novel off the shelf, examining the half exposed cover before sliding it back into its place. “I bet you do.” She retorts, wiggling her hips just enough to tease him without losing her precarious balance on the ladder.

Although the motion is meant to be a joke, Harry can’t stop the flash of genuine fear that ignites in his chest.  Humans are fragile, he knows, and a fall from the height that Y/N has climbed to could sprain her wrist, or injure her back, or crack open her skull like an egg, or—

“Careful there, Watson.” Harry attempts to disguise the worry in his voice behind a lighthearted joke as his grip on the human girl strengthens. “Wouldn’t want an accident to happen, now, would we?”

“That’s why I’ve got you, Holmes.” A tinkling laugh falls from her lips as she risks a glance over her shoulder at him, her eyes alight with amusement, before turning her attention back to the old novels. “You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, would you?”

There’s a nervous truth hidden underneath her words, and Harry knows it, but that doesn’t stop it from making his skin itch as the casual phrase sinks into his body.  In all his years, however, Harry’s gotten quite good at hiding his emotions, and this is no different.  

Instead of giving a sincere answer, Harry hardens his reply of “F’course I wouldn’t, pet.  Y’can never be too careful.” by letting one jeweled hand drift from Y/N’s hip to her backside, cupping it gently to support her, and taking delight in the way he can feel her body tense beneath his new touch.

It takes Y/N a moment to find her breath again, and when she does, all she can muster is a hum in the back of her throat. “Mhmm.” She sighs, trying her best to refocus on the books lining the shelves in front of her as she climbs higher. “Is that why your hand is grabbing my ass, you pervert?”

“Y’know, that seems to be your favourite nickname for me.” Harry’s smirk deepens as he contracts his hand, squeezing her fleshy backside after she takes another step higher. “I wonder why that is?”

“I wonder.” The flat response echoes from Y/N’s mouth as she pulls another book from the shelf to examine it before replacing it a moment later. “Maybe— and this is just a suggestion, so take it with a grain of salt, but— maybe if you didn’t act like a pervert, you’d get a nicer nickname.”

Although Y/N’s retorts are droll and to the point, Harry can hear the way her heartbeat begins to stutter each time he massages her, and it’s that fluttering rhythm that encourages him to grasp the sides of the ladder with both hands and pull himself up a couple rungs. 

“A nicer nickname, huh?” He breathes in her ear, pressing his chest to her back both to be close to her and to give her more support on the ladder. “Like ‘slut’?” Harry stifles the groan that nearly rolls from his throat when he feels Y/N stiffen. “That’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?”

“I—” Swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat, Y/N grips the sides of the ladder tight between her hands, her skin stretching over her tense knuckles as Harry’s breath begins to hit her neck. “Maybe. I...I suppose.”

Harry laughs quietly as he takes another step up the ladder, keeping himself braced against Y/N as he begins to smear kisses along the side of her neck, mindful of the iron cross that still hangs there. “You suppose?” He repeats, his tone slightly mocking when he hears the mortal shudder. “What about your other favourites?  Y’like when I call you my pretty little plaything, don’t you?”

The honey and lavender fragrance wafting over Harry intensifies as Y/N’s blood pumps faster and faster, the only sound emerging from the human girl being a quiet whimper from the back of her throat.

“There’s another one, though… another nickname…” Letting his teeth gently graze her earlobe, Harry whispers directly in Y/N’s ear, keeping his voice low and throaty as he does so. “It’s on the tip of my tongue, baby...” He suckles sloppily along her pulsing neck, delighting in the taste of her sweet skin in his mouth. “Remind me what it is?”

Already, Y/N’s breathing has grown ragged, and he waits a moment for the aroused girl to form a response, encouraging her with every nip of his teeth.  Just when Harry is about to ask again, she manages to choke out a reply.

“Whore.” She whispers, the embarrassment in her voice overpowered by the lust running through her veins. “I like it when you call me your whore.”

“That’s my good girl.” A satisfied smile tugs at the edge of Harry’s lips as he stamps a gentle kiss to Y/N’s jaw. “That’s another one, too.  My good girl.  And because you’re my good girl…” Harry snakes his right hand from the rung of the ladder to the buttons of Y/N’s overalls, deftly undoing the side snaps and gradually slipping his hand into the space between the denim and her clammy skin. “You’re going to keep looking for your books while I have some fun.”

Y/N lets out a broken gasp as Harry’s fingertips graze over her cotton panties, and her grip on the railing slackens as a rush of heat falls between her legs. 

“Careful, baby.” Harry cautions her, his left hand wrapping around hers and resetting her grasp on the ladder. “Can’t have any fun if you let go, hm?”

“We—” She twists her head to the side, straining to look over her shoulder and towards the entrance as Harry’s digits dance over the dampening spot on her panties. “Someone could walk in, Harry—”

Of course someone could, Harry thinks, but exhibitionism is so much easier to indulge when one has inhuman hearing that can detect the pounding of an approaching heart from fifty feet away.  He doesn’t disclose this information to Y/N, however, for a number of reasons, and instead chooses to scrape his teeth along the shell of her ear once more, his ruby lips soothing the marks instantly. 

“You let me worry about that, alright?” He murmurs lowly, sliding Y/N’s cotton panties to the side and dragging his index and middle finger through her dripping folds, enjoying how she shivers against his chest. “You just focus on finding the book you want and being a good little whore for me, princess.  Let me take care of the rest.”

When Y/N reflects on this moment in bed tonight, her clammy palms twisting around the sheets as she inhabits the memory of Harry’s mint-scented breath swirling around her as he massages two fingers around her throbbing clit with a teasing touch, one specific detail will stick out to her.  She won’t focus on how her heart is pounding so hard that she feels her chest might burst, or how her fingers shake as she reaches for another book on the shelf, per Harry’s quiet but intent instructions.  The thing that Y/N will remember in wonder and— on some level, self consciously— is how quickly the anxiety that spikes through her veins at the possibility of someone walking in and finding the two of them in such a compromising position bleeds into a high like no other.

Y/N likes to entertain the idea that she’s fairly adventurous, and has been open to a lot of things, especially since meeting Harry, but this— allowing him to finger her in a music room at an antique mall, where any customer or employee could discover them— is something so outside of her character that Y/N can’t think straight.  When Harry first slips his long middle finger inside her slick center, the girl nearly collapses, and Harry’s broad chest braced behind her is the only thing that keeps her upright on the ladder.

“Y’like that, doll?” Harry’s hot breath rolls over her neck as he purrs the words, adjusting his grip on the side of the ladder as his other hand skillfully toys with the human in slow and deep strokes. “Filthy little thing, you are, letting me play with you like this.”

The sinful remark draws a mewling moan from Y/N’s mouth as her head dips back onto Harry’s sturdy shoulder, her hands dropping all pretense of searching for a book and clutching the ladder like she normally clutches her sheets, or the headboard of whoever’s bed Harry has tossed her onto. “H-Harry…” She whimpers, her eyelashes fluttering as he circles his thumb around her clit. “Fuck…”

“You pretend to be so sweet, but you and I know the truth, don’t we?” The vampire sponges another kiss along her throat as he delights in the wet sounds his fingers make, which easily become drowned out by the quiet noises of bliss leaving his lover’s mouth. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

Y/N nods fervently as she allows her weight to fall back against Harry’s sturdy chest, trusting him to support her as he thrusts another finger inside her. “Anything, H, I—” The desperate proclamation is cut off as Harry curls his digits, bumping against the spot in the pit of her tummy that sets her entire nervous system on fire. “Shit, right there, baby, right there…”

Harry’s smug voice rings in her ear as he slows his stride, dragging his fingers in and out of her hot core at a pace that’s nearly criminal. “Y’don’t need to tell me, I know.” He pushes himself forward again, flushing Y/N between his chest and the ladder with just enough room to continue his activities. “I know what you like, how you like it, where you like it… Know my girl so well.”

As Y/N adjusts to the newly close proximity, the bulge in Harry’s slacks grows more apparent, rubbing against her backside over and over with each plunge of Harry’s fingers.  She lets out a strangled whine at the feeling, carving her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to keep herself quiet. 

“You feel me, don’t you, minx?” Harry moans into her ear, catching his teeth along the shell before dragging them down her jaw to settle his lips just above her throbbing pulse point. “You feel what you’re doing to me?  How just a single whimper from those pretty lips, and one touch of your soaked cunt makes my cock ache?”

Despite her best efforts, a ragged sob breaks through Y/N’s self-imposed gag order, and her chest heaves within Harry’s tight embrace as her head lolls to the side. “I-I want it.” She pleads, her half-lidded eyes struggling to find Harry’s emerald irises in her haze. 

Those sea glass eyes, darker than she’s ever seen them, widen with fake surprise as his mouth curls into a smirk.  When Harry replies, his normally soothing dulcet voice is filled with insincere mocking. “Oh, you want it, do you?  You want me to fuck you in here?” Dropping his voice to its usual low resonance, Harry growls the next phrase in the human’s ear. “I know you want it, you fucking slut.  But you can’t have it right now.  So if I’m going to let you cum—” The conditional phrase pulls a sound of protest from her throat. “—then you’re going to have to do it around my fingers.” 

The begging girl cries out against his neck as her walls clench around his touch, the stifled pants that she gasps into Harry’s ear urging him to speed up.  Instead of giving her what she wants, Harry curls his fingers inside her, pressing deeper into that spongy spot to elicit another broken whine from her.  When he receives it, however, it’s accompanied by an unexpected blinding burn. 

The iron cross that hangs so delicately around Y/N’s fragile throat has slung to the side in her writhing pleasure, finding its way from her flushed collarbones to the base of Harry’s icy neck.  The vampire grinds his teeth as he feels the brand begin to form, choking back the sound of agony that fights its way out of his mouth.  His left hand clenches around the ladder, his knuckles stretching white as the waxed wood nearly splinters under his palm, while his right hand stutters its pace inside his lover, prodding harshly at her G-spot as a single grunt makes it past the cracks of his teeth.

Harry knows he needs to remove the cross from his skin, but he has no way of doing so without alerting Y/N to his discomfort.  If he lets go of the rung, both of them will tumble off, and Y/N has made it obvious how much she trusts him to keep her safe; that option is hardly an option, Harry thinks, struggling to keep his mind present as he fights through the pain.  The other option— the only one, really— is to retract his fingers from between the mortal’s thighs, feign some excuse as to why, and do his best to keep her from noticing the cross-shaped burn mark on his neck that will surely disappear within a few moments of the iron being removed.  It’ll be jarring, he knows, to pull Y/N from the subspace he can tell she’s beginning to slip into, and Harry hates it, but there’s nothing to be done.  His hand contracts inside her, desperately massaging her walls one last time before he retreats to—

The sharp action drags a mangled whine from Y/N’s throat, the sound more shattered than anything Harry has ever heard from her before, and it pulls Harry’s attention from the charring sensation of the cross branding his skin to the overwhelmed girl in his arms.  As Y/N lets her entire body fall against Harry’s chest, her eyes completely shut as she gives into the pleasure bubbling in her tummy, a realization dawns on Harry, searing him nearly as much as the metal on his inhuman flesh: he can’t let go of her.  He’s in too deep— literally, obvious in the way she tightens around his fingers— and if he were to stop now, Y/N would go into a sensitive daze that he can’t deal with in a public space.  If he lets go of her now, he’ll lose the connection he’s spent the last two months making. She might get over it, given that it’s just an orgasm, but subconsciously, there’s a possibility she could resent him for it. Especially in the extremely delicate phase she’s in at the moment. 

He knows it sounds stupid, but he can’t risk that.  He just can’t.  He’ll take burning agony over that any day. 

When Harry reflects on this moment in bed tonight, his jeweled fingers carefully combing through Y/N’s knotted locks as she shifts in his arms, the bite mark on her neck freshly faded to a light bruise, her chest rising and falling gently with quiet breaths, one specific detail will stick out to him.  He won’t focus on the blinding pleasure of Y/N grinding against his hardened bulge, her body moving of its own accord as she gives in completely to the sensations Harry pulls from her.  He won’t focus on the explicit moans that show she’s given up on attempting to quiet, her voice reverberating in Harry’s mouth as he inhales every desperate breath she exhales.  When Harry reflects on this moment, the thing he’ll remember the most is how the second he accepted his fate— that he’d have to bear the pain in order to keep Y/N happy, and he feels like there’s probably some deeper subliminal message hidden beneath that realization, though he refuses to indulge it— the mortal girl tilts her head to the side and begins to kiss Harry’s neck, soothing the scorched mark with her silky tongue. 

The relief is so sweet that Harry nearly cries out a fractured mewl, letting his head fall forward into Y/N’s shoulder to hide his desperate expression.  She continues to whimper into his skin, smudging kiss after kiss on his marked neck as if she knows how badly he needs it.  Even as her orgasm begins to rise in her belly, consuming her every thought, she continues to suck bruises onto his jugular, dragging her tongue over his cool skin repeatedly after every action.  Although the iron still stings, the sensation of Y/N’s textured tongue swiping over it turns the pain to pleasure, and it’s not long before Harry has himself centered once again, refocused on the task at hand. 

He speeds up the movement of his fingers, focusing on curling them inside her as his thumb rubs quick circles over her throbbing clit.  The sounds bouncing around the room are so lewd that Harry almost wishes someone would walk in, even if only to see how good Harry is capable of making his lover feel. 

“Y’can cum for me, baby.  Cum all over my hand.” He mutters in her ear, his teeth scraping against her fragile skin in desperation. “I know you have it in you.  Show me how good you are.”

Y/N feverishly grinds against his hand, all of her senses overwhelmed by the immortal as she licks across his neck. “So—so close, Harry—I—”

“I know, I know you are.” The vampire soothes her in a tone more gentle than he thought possible, palming her soaking cunt with as much pressure as he thinks she can stand. “Let go for me.  I’ve got you.”

The reassurance is the final thing Y/N needs to fall apart, and once she knows that she can, it happens with an intensity that shocks even her.  When the coil inside her belly snaps, a guttural moan tears from her mouth, and she grasps the pole in front of her as tightly as she can while collapsing back into Harry’s chest. 

“Fuck, there we go, yeah? Shhh, keep it down for me, angel. Don’t wanna have to stop until you beg me to.” 

Her grip on the ladder does nothing to support her, but as Harry’s hushed words ring in her mind, she knows she doesn’t have to worry about that.  Harry’s arms and chest are strong enough to do it for her, allowing her to sink into her pleasure as much as she needs to. 

When Y/N slumps in his arms, her neck finally shifts enough that her cross falls back into its designated position between her collarbones, providing Harry with relief from the scorching pain he’d been beginning to adjust to.  He can feel his skin begin to heal itself the moment the iron leaves it, and with that small fear tamped down, the creature can turn all his attention to the girl in his arms. 

He slowly and carefully retracts his hand from her panties, shushing the weak squeak that rolls from her lips at the motion. “Good girl.” He mumbles into her ear, kissing her temple softly as her breathing begins to regulate itself. “Shh, you’re alright.  Y’did so well for me, darling.”

The comforting praise comes easily to him, and as he continues to hold Y/N as she regains her previous headspace, Harry begins to wonder just how far he’d be able to push her before she reaches her limits.  How far into subspace can she go before she hits the point of no return?  Could Harry successfully guide her there and lead her back?  Could she ever trust him enough to submit fully to his every request, taking solace in the knowledge that he can take care of her as well as— or better, even— she can take care of herself?  Harry wants to think yes, but he can’t dwell on the idea any longer; Y/N’s beginning to shift against him again, and he’ll never be able to earn that wholehearted trust if he doesn’t tend to her now. 

Lifting his hand to his own lips, Harry wraps his tongue around his drenched fingers, lapping at the sweet wetness that coats them down to his rings.  He hums in appreciation, stippling another tender kiss to Y/N’s neck when he retracts his fingers from his mouth. 

“Taste so sweet, y’know that?” He whispers, the question half a test to see how aware Y/N is as her head begins to clear. “C’mere, I want you to taste.”

Y/N lazily tilts her head to the side, a small smile playing on her lips as they meet Harry’s for a slow kiss.  Trailing his fingers down her side, Harry skillfully buttons the side of her overalls again, adjusting the fabric to lie comfortable against her skin.

“How are you feeling, hm?” He murmurs, rubbing his large hand soothingly over her belly as her breathing begins to regulate again. “How was that?”

“I feel…” Y/N struggles to make sense of her swimming head, resting it against Harry’s shoulder as she tries to form a coherent response. “Good.”

Harry sighs with relief, smearing a quick kiss to her cheek as he grins. “Good.  That’s good.” 

With his right hand still wrapped around her middle, he carefully lowers himself and Y/N from the ladder, keeping a tight grip on the girl until he knows her feet are planted firmly on the ground. 

As the afterglow of her climax begins to fade, a heated flush begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine to settle on the apples of her cheeks. “I, um—” The corners of her lips tug upwards with a bashful tone, and she twists around in Harry’s arms to shyly meet his canopy green eyes. “I can’t believe I did that.” 

“You didn’t do anything.  It takes two to tango, pet.  And, honestly…” Harry flashes a boyish simper at her as he yanks her closer to him by her hips. “I think I did most of the work.” 

“That’s true.” A breathless laugh stutters from Y/N’s chest as she curls her hands around Harry’s bulging biceps, steadying herself from the after effects of her orgasm, which are turning her legs to jelly. “I could, um…” She flicks her eyes from the door to the prominent bulge in Harry’s black slacks before capturing his gaze in hers again. “Return the favour?”

Harry snorts as he gives a quick shake of his head, his teeth catching on his bottom lip while he runs his hands down the back of her rumpled shirt. “Not here, baby.  How about we wait until we’re back at my place for you to show me how my sweet girl sucks cock, hm?”

“So it’s alright for you to distract me from my book search to finger me in a public area,” Y/N fakes indignation to distract herself from the ache that’s starting to pulse in her core again at Harry’s proposal. “But the moment I want to suck you off, you say ‘not here’?  What kind of double standard is that?”

Lips twitching in amusement, Harry stifles a laugh as he turns the girl in his arms, pressing her back to his chest once again before wrapping his arms back around her waist. “You’re right.  I distracted you from your book search. How rude of me.” He coos, nodding up to the shelf as he grazes his teeth against her pulse. “Think I see a pretty copy of Sense and Sensibility up there.  Y’think you can reach it, or do you need me to do it, sweetheart?” 

The shuddering of Y/N’s heartbeat contrasts with her heated reply. “I can reach it just fine if you behave yourself.” She shoots back, smacking the hand that’s beginning to wander towards her center again. “Or is that too difficult for you?” 

“It’s extremely difficult when I’m near you.” The reply, while truthful, sends a quiver down Harry’s spine, and he presses a chaste kiss to the human girl’s shoulder before releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll get the book.”

Y/N tugs the hair tie from her locks, shaking them out before pulling them back again in a neat manner. “You know, I never thought I was one for antiquing, but today was fun.” 

“Well, it doesn’t usually involve getting finger-fucked on a ladder,” Harry states bluntly, glancing over his shoulder with a dimpled smile on his face. “So I’m not really sure if today can be the marker for an average antiquing session.”

Y/N’s face boils at the brazen comment, and she tucks a strand of loose hair that she’d missed behind her ear as she swallows hard. “No.” She replies with a soft and timid laugh, shaking her head gently. “I suppose that’s true.” 

Harry hums in reply as he snags the old copy of the Jane Austen novel from the top shelf, climbing down the ladder effortlessly and landing back on the ground with a soft thud. “But I’m glad you had fun.” Harry steps towards Y/N with a satisfied air, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger as a teasing smile plays on his ruby lips. “And I’m even more glad we found a replacement for that terrible tapestry of yours.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she smacks Harry’s hand from her chin before snatching the novel from his hands. “Stop being mean to Amanda!  You’ll hurt her feelings.”

A snort boasts from Harry’s throat as he recalls the day she had told him what she’d named the piece hanging from her wall, and he bends down to scoop up the Monet print while shaking his head impassively, clutching it in one hand as he snakes the other around Y/N’s waist once again. “Well, I hope Amanda doesn’t have feelings, because I’m going to burn her.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not, because I’m going to hang her over your bed, just so you can stare at her while you fall asleep each night.” 

Harry groans loudly as he guides his lover from the music room and back to the open space of the antique mall. “Please.  If anything is going over my bed, it’s a mirror, not a college freshman’s poor excuse of an attempt at interior design.” 

Y/N wrinkles her nose at the comment, shaking her head at the crude suggestion. “A mirror?  That better be a joke.”

“It was, but now that I’m thinking about it…”

“You’re disgustingly conceited.” 

“Oh please, you lo—” Harry catches himself just before the word love rolls off his lips.  Though he’s said it before when referring to certain aspects of their sex life (like how he loves the way her mouth feels, or how she loves the way he stretches her out), it just seems oddly repulsive to say at this very moment. Too intimate, almost.

Therefore, the creature bites back the offensive phrase and tugs her closer by the waist, covering up his sudden hesitation with his signature smirk. “You like that idea, don’t you, dove?”

Y/N keeps her face neutral as they pass by an older couple examining a grandfather clock. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sure you don’t.” Harry laughs sharply, nuzzling his face into the top of Y/N’s hair and pressing a casual kiss to the crown of her head. “Need I remind you that your request for my interior design skills is what started this whole thing?”

“And if you had suggested I mount a mirror over my bed, this whole thing would’ve been over before it even had a chance to start.”

“You say that now, but if you were to see the way my cock looks while it slams into your—”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, blood rushing to her cheeks as he guides her around a corner stacked with porcelain dolls. 

“Fine. No mirror.” Harry relents, a disappointed sigh falling from his lips as he palms Y/N’s waist closer to himself. “But the tapestry needs to be burned.”

“No.”

“Thrown away.”

“No.”

“Folded up and tucked under the bed?”

“Possibly.  And that’s as good an ending as you’ll get.” 

That night, after Harry has satisfied his craving for both Y/N and the sweet liquid that pumps through her veins, and has settled in for his usual nightly routine of rhythmically caressing her back to lull her into a deep slumber, and as he counts the breaths the mortal sighs between nightfall and sunrise while her soft snoring sings a lullaby to his ears, he can’t help but think that…

That yes, this really is as good an ending as he’ll ever get. 

[waithyuck]

beautiful

pairing: cambion! lee donghyuck/haechan x reader (f) **halloweenie special**

genre: smut, supernatural au

word count: 4.6k

warnings: brief allusions to darker themes, brief thoughts/desires to harm the reader in a consensual sexual context (reader is really into it and encourages it), explicit language, sexual content, unprotected sex, cumming inside, blood, rough handling, hyuck has a big dick whoops, hyuck is also a half demon so he gets a lil sadistic you have been warned

a/n: this was really fun to write and I’m really excited to see all of your reactions after reading lol

{cambion: offspring of a demon and a human; commonly has physical deformities and can exhibit evil and malicious behavior.}

< previous | next >

~10/17/2020~

~~~~

the world you lived in now was one that society probably could have never predicted back a hundred years ago. you were sure no one thought that humans would live amongst creatures far beyond the common imagination, nor did you think that they thought the human race would still come out on top.

most would assume that supernatural creatures would have taken over the hierarchy easily, but that was not the case for this world. even though there were demons, angels, dragons–you name it, they existed– somehow the humans still ruled.

from what you could understand, it was because the supernatural were threatened since the very beginning of their known existence. unfortunately for them, the human government now had the means (and the firepower) to keep them subdued. they were essentially forced to keep their powers subdued, for the “greater good of the population”, as the people in charge put it.

ever since you were a child, there had been at least a handful of non-human children that were part of your classes at school. not many, since there were fears of bullying and harm from other students toward them, but enough to make a lasting impression on you.

at first, you were curious. you remember one instance back in grades school where you wouldn't stop staring at a young werewolf boy; too young to hide his teeth or his tail. you didn’t stare because you hated him or wanted to pick on him; you really thought he was amazing, but didn’t have the words to explain that to him at such a young age.

you’re proud to say you’ve grown a lot since then. now in college, you treated those different to you as equals, as you should. you try not to stare or question, and of course you’re never mean and you don’t bully, nor do you condone bullying.

seeing the supernatural constantly being picked on was something that always made you feel sick. they weren’t legally allowed to use their powers or strength, leaving them at a disadvantage to cowardly human bullies. you didn’t doubt that if the supernatural were able to fight back, the humans would cower in three seconds flat, and you would have yourself a good laugh.

speaking of bullies, you unfortunately had to pass by a group of girls who were berating a boy you’ve seen across campus a few times. as you walked, you couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could see the boy becoming visibly more upset (or angry, rather) as time went on.

lee donghyuck was usually an individual who kept to himself, most definitely because of his genetic makeup. the experts around the school determined that he was a cambion; a half human half demon offspring, to which donghyuck apparently confirmed. people would constantly come at him for his singular red eye or the talons that were only on his left hand.

to be honest, you were always a little afraid of him. sticking up for him was very heavily outweighed by the fear he might lash out at you for helping, making him feel weak or something. but today something inside you screamed for you to help him, no matter the consequences.

you just hoped he didn’t tear you to shreds with his sharp talons.

you changed course and walked straight up to the group of nasty girls, them not even noticing you until you stepped in front of donghyuck, much to his surprise as well as theirs.

“can you guys leave him alone?” you stupidly asked, your voice not coming out as strong as you would have liked it to. the ‘leader’ of the pack looked shocked for a second, before laughing in your face.

“oh my god!” she laughed, clutching her stomach. “why are you trying to defend this freak? hoping he’ll fuck you or something?”

you felt your face heat up in embarrassment but you held your ground, not tearing your eyes away from her or moving from your spot in front of the half-demon boy.

“no,” you firmly stated, “I’m just trying to defend him from low-lifes who think it’s cool to pick on him for things he can’t control.”

you gave yourself a mental high five for maintaining your composure. you couldn’t see donghyuck’s face but you were really hoping he wasn’t angry. you didn’t turn to face him just yet.

the girl in front of you dropped her smile, a scowl replacing it as she scoffed in your face. she let out a “whatever,” before motioning for her posse to follow her as she walked away.

well, that was easier than you thought it was gonna be.

“why did you do that?” the boy behind you suddenly asked, his voice soft but it still managed to startle you. you turned to face him, putting on your biggest smile.

“I can’t stand when people pick on others for things that can’t be controlled.” you explained simply, looking him in the eye even though your heart was ready to explode out of your chest. “you didn’t decide to be what you are, so no one should belittle you for that.”

he cracked a small smile at you, and at that moment a friendship formed, whether the two of you realized it or not.

donghyuck allowed you to grow close to him, which you thought was the most amazing thing. he opened himself up to you, and you became great friends over the course of the winter semester into the spring. in turn you opened up to him, and the two of you had a pure and healthy friendship.

he smiled with you and joked around, laughing and being playful in your presence. not many people bothered him when you were around, most likely because they didn’t feel like fighting with someone, which you and hyuck were grateful for.

hyuck was always gentle; he never wanted to hurt anyone or anything, not even the smallest ants on the ground. he was very careful not to touch you, in fear he would be unaware of his inhuman strength and hurt you or accidentally scratch you with his sharp claws. you didn’t mind him being wary, but there was a part of that wished he would be comfortable enough for at least a hug.

of course you didn’t push him.

currently you sat with him in an empty art classroom, helping him with his literature paper while you painted the way the sun reflecting off the walls on your canvas. the sun touched his face beautifully, and as much as you wanted to paint him instead of the boring room, you kept your mind on track.

you worked in silence for a few moments, enjoying each other’s presence in the warmth of dusk, but of course no good thing lasts forever, and your peace was rudely interrupted as you heard the door slide open.

“hey, half-breed!” a girl shouted, causing hyuck to grip his pencil so hard it splintered completely in half, shocking you as you watched the top half fly in the air. “who’s this? your new little girlfriend?” the girl smirked evilly, looking at her painted nails before going on. “best be careful you don’t scare her away with your demonic tendencies. I bet you can’t even touch her without wanting to tear her to shreds with those ugly claws.” she snickered along with her posse of friends, and at that point you scowled at them, ready to rip them all new assholes. as you prepared to stand up to defend your friend, he stopped you with his own actions.

donghyuck let a loud growl rip through his throat, turning to face the bullies and effectively silencing them with the menacing sound. it shocked you, but you stood your ground and gripped his jacket sleeve to ground him despite your trembling fingers.

“I didn’t ask to be this way!” he practically screamed, intimidating the group standing before you even further. “do you think my mother asked for this? to have a burden of a son?” his voice was starting to fill with despair, and you could feel it inside you that he was struggling to keep his composure.

donghyuck sniffed and glared at the wall, not giving his tormentors the time of day any more.

“just leave me the fuck alone, would you?” he asked quietly, an aggressive air still present in his low tone.

one by one you watched the bullies file out, most of them shocked at hyuck’s sudden display of hostility. you supposed that they weren’t expecting him to finally fight back after all this time.

he stayed brooding beside you, and when you tried to find his gaze with your own, he shut his eyes as a stray tear fell down his cheek. before you could comment on it, he roughly wiped it away, still not meeting your kind eyes.

“donghyuck…” you whispered, your voice gentle as you tried to get his attention. “will you look at me?”

when he didn’t move or respond, you grasped his hand gently, failing to ignore the way he jumped at the contact.

“come on,” you spoke softly, tugging his arm slightly. “let’s go back to my place.”

he didn’t say anything in response, but allowed you to lead him back to your empty dorm room across campus. it was a silent walk, but you never let go of his hand, and he didn’t seem to want you to let go either, the tight grip he held on you being a clear sign.

when you arrived, you lazily pushed the door open, and led him to sit down on your creaky bed. you tried to pull your hand out of his own to go switch on the lights, but his grip only grew tighter, pulling your arm and causing you to fall down to sit next to him. you didn’t comment on the sudden slightly aggressive way he handled you; you only worried for him as he sat in the darkness of the room.

“...are you alright?” you asked, silently cursing yourself after a moment for asking such a stupid question.

he was silent for a moment, only breathing softly in the quietness in the room, before he sighed shakily and spoke up

“she should have gotten rid of me when she had the chance,” he whispered, his gaze cast downward as he shakily breathed before you. “she told me she couldn’t do it. she told me she wanted to be able to love me.”

you could safely assume he was referring to his mother, and the solemn tone in his voice made you fight back tears. you still never let go of his hand.

“I’m a living reminder of the trauma she went through…yet everyday when she looked at me, she never complained.” at this you saw a tear escape his left eye, the red iris glassy as the tears spilled forth.

“I’m a fucking monster.”

you felt your heart shatter.

here was this broken boy in front of you, claiming he was a monster for things he could have never even hoped to control. he was never malicious; he was always so gentle with everything, especially toward you. He stayed quiet when people relentlessly picked on him, never fighting back until today. as far as you were concerned, there was no way that he could ever be considered a monster, no matter what his genetic make up was or how he looked to other.

“what?” you questioned abruptly, your voice raising sightly above a whisper. “how could you say that? you’re not a monster, lee donghyuck.” he turned to look at you then, his eyes wide with curiosity as he watched you continue to speak. “you have a heart of gold. you’re always so gentle and caring with me, and other living creatures around you. you never fight back and i’ve never seen you hurt anyone.” you tore your eyes away from him, panting as you looked down at your lap, the rant you were going on making you emotional. “you are absolutely not a monster.”

he looked conflicted and turned his back to you, and you assumed it was because he didn’t want you to see what he was feeling. your hands were now apart, no longer in the comforting embrace of each other's warmth.

“...I could hurt you.” he mumbled quietly, and you weren’t able to detect the emotion in his voice. your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden statement, and you were quick with your rebuttal.

“you won’t.”

when he turned around and abruptly gripped your throat with his clawed fingers, you flinched instinctively but didn’t react further than that, challenging his angry gaze with a hard and confident stare. even though your heart was beating through your ribcage, you decided to grip his wrist with your own fingers as you looked at him, preparing to speak with a hard swallow that he surely felt against his palm.

“you can’t hurt me,” you said in a small voice, your lips quivering despite you trying your best to keep your composure. “you won’t. I know you won’t.” you continued, watching his face subtly change into one of confusion. his eyes were still transfixed on you; one crimson red like the blood flooding through your veins, and the other warm and brown, almost inviting you to get closer.

your grip on his warm wrist tightened, your other hand coming up to daringly caress his face, not hesitating to smooth over his soft cheek as he stared at you in complete awe.

“I trust you, donghyuck.”

fuck, you really wanted to kiss him.

he beat you to it though, pressing his lips against yours tightly, causing you to squeak in surprise. you kissed him back with as just as much feeling, your mouths moving together in sync. his clawed hand moved from your throat to rest on his leg (a little to your dismay, if you were being honest), and his other came up to gently caress your cheek as he deepened the kiss with his tongue.

“h-hyuck,” you played, pulling back only a centimeter, hips lips chasing yours. “is th-this okay? are you—“ his lips on yours cut you off, and he hummed into it before pulling away.

“I-I want you,” he stated quietly, looking down at his lap before flitted his eyes to yours once more. “if you’ll have me.”

you stared at him for a moment, overwhelming emotions filling your eyes and heart before you nodded and practically pounced on him.

the two of you kissed like there were no other worries in the world; it was just you both enjoying each other in the dim light of your room, feeling one another.

his hands didn’t touch you, but he allowed you to pull him over top of you on the bed, your back against the sheets as his body laid on top of yours.

with every moment that ticked past you grew more confident, and after a while you began fitting your hips up against his, delighted at the small friction you were creating.

“hyuck,” you whined, your hands moving to grip at the hair at the base of his neck. “pl-please, I want your fingers,” you were begging, but didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment as his lust filled eyes stared back you, his plump lips parted. “please,”

he didn’t hesitate to help you out of your clothes, careful of his claws as he removed your pants and shirt. he freed you from your underwear and bra, leaving you bare in front of his full clothed form.

his right hand delicately smoothed down your thigh, spreading your legs apart so he could take a good look at you. you were wet and you knew it, and you threw an arm over your face to suppress your moans as he experimentally drug a finger through your soaked folds.

you didn’t have to wait long for him to sink a single digit inside you, and you let out a drawn out whine in response as he started gently thrusting it in and out of your clenching hole.

“is that good?” he asked lowly, not taking his eyes off the sight of his finger disappearing inside you. he was bold enough to add a second finger and even moved his thumb to press on your clit, and you keened at the sudden feeling.

“yes, so good baby,” you breathed in response, gripping the sheets beside you on both hands.

donghyuck eventually worked up to push a third finger inside you, and you practically howled at the feeling of being filled. his fingertips pressed into all your sweet spots, making you feel dizzy.

“mmnnff, hyuck,” you whimpered, catching his attention. he looked at you with dark eyes, his mouth parted as his tongue poked out to lick his lips. “what do you w-wanna do to me?”

it was a valid question, and it seemed to catch him off guard for a moment. hyuck seemed to be holding himself back from doing what he actually wanted, or behaving like he actually wanted to.

he quickly recovered, and withdrew his fingers from you in one quick movement. he moved them to your mouth and you caught the hint, only able to take in two of them. you suckled on his digits as you stared at him with doe eyes innocently, like you weren’t sucking off the excess juices from your pussy.

“I wanna fuck you,” he simply stated, watching you like a predator as you released his fingers from your mouth. “I wanna feel you, y/n. all of you.”

you couldn’t deny him that.

you sat up quickly and moved to tear at his shirt, the fabric peeling over his head before being thrown across the room in your haste. you worked at his pants and was successful at undoing the button and zipper, and he kicked them off his legs in one swift move.

you stared at the impossibly large bulge in his boxers, but didn’t allow yourself to become intimidated.

you would make him fit. you wanted to feel him stretch you out. you would make it work.

once his underwear was discarded, you watched his cock twitch against his stomach in awe. he sat at the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor as you moved to situate yourself on his lap.

you kissed him once more before a determined look graced your face, and you positioned your entrance above him, ready to begin.

“what do you really want to do to me?” you asked him again as you sank down onto his cock, watching as his nose scrunched up at the feeling of your wet and hot walls surrounding his painfully hard member.

in your periphery you could see his fingers flex like he wanted to reach out and touch you or grab you, but he was fighting himself. you sat still in his lap, his dick buried to the hilt inside you, pressing against your cervix because of how deep he was. you reached out and grabbed both of his hands, placing them on your hips.

“I w-wanna…” he started, gulping as his hands stayed feather light against your skin, still afraid to touch you fully. you clenched your walls around him playfully, watching as his expression changed from innocent and hesitant, to cold and dark in mere seconds.

his fingers gripped you fully, but he was still careful not to pierce your skin with the talons on his left hand. his right hand gripped your hip posessively, and it felt like he was close to crushing the bone. you gasped at the feeling, but welcomed the pain.

“I wanna hurt you,” he snarled, moving forward to nip at your vulnerable throat, causing his cock to move ever so slightly against your walls. “I wanna make you scream, cry, bleed...everything.”

you gasped at his words, your pussy clenching at the thought of him absolutely annihilating you, leaving you broken and unable to function as a normal human being ever again.

he must have taken your gasp the wrong way, and definitely must have not felt your walls clamp down on him, because he pulled away from your neck to look you in the eye, looking ashamed at his confession.

“you must be scared of me now,” he mumbled, looking away. “I knew this would happ–“

you cut him off by gripping his jaw in your hands, forcing him to face you as you crashed your lips against his. you moved your hands and gripped his hair, tugging roughly as you both made out messily, your body still impaled on his insanely large cock.

“fuck, donghyuck,” you panted, pulling away. “that’s so fucking hot, please,” you began rolling your hips against him, causing you both to groan. “I w-want it, please,”

he looked at you briefly before nodding his head, a movement so slight you would have missed it if you had blinked.

even though he had nodded his head, he didn’t go rough on you like you knew he wanted to. instead, he began helping you lift yourself up and down his cock, effectively fucking you onto himself. he threw his head back and moaned, and you took the opportunity to kissing along his throat and around his adam’s apple. you shivered as he growled, feeling the deep vibrations against your lips.

it felt so incredibly good to be filled with him; your walls clamped tightly around him as you swiveled and lifted your hips up and down on his lap, continuously making the both of you moan out in pleasure. it was indescribable; the way you felt almost overwhelming and you felt wetness forming in your eyes as you buried your face in his warm neck, the tears finally spilling. your broken cries egged him on, causing his hips to lift in time with you, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you with more force.

his soft grunts and groans in your ear had your walls fluttering, and with every grind against him you felt his skin brush your clit, pushing you further and further toward your impending climax. you were more worked up than you originally had thought.

“I-I thought you wanted to hurt me,” you provoked, the pace not faltering as you fucked each other with abandon. he let out a low snarl in response, but still didn’t become rough like you really wanted him to. “ come on, hyuck,” you whined out, tugging on his hard harder.

he seemed to be growing close to his end, his hips moving faster and with less precision. an idea popped into your mind, maybe not a good one, but an idea nonetheless.

you weren’t sure if it was going to work, but it was worth a shot.

you smirked to yourself.

“c-cum inside me,” you whimpered quietly in his ear, and you heard him slightly gasp at the request. “pl-please,” you begged further, your nails digging into his shoulders in result of the stimulation you were being subjected to. “I need t-to f-feel you cum inside…”

as you trailed off he roughly gripped your hips, lifting you off him with a loud growl, causing a sharp whine to escape you at the feeling of his cock slipping from your sensitive walls.

he had you on your back in seconds; lifting your legs to wrap around his waist tightly before he grabbed your hips and hoisted them in the air, pushing his cock into you again and starting a fast and rough pace immediately.

you were seeing stars at this point, not even acknowledging the pain of his talons suddenly ripping into the skin of your right side, causing blood to trickle down onto your clean sheets. it didn’t matter to you, and in some fucked up way, you seriously enjoyed the pain.

your orgasm was building very quickly, and with one final and brutal thrust from him, you were coming undone, his cock buried incredibly deep inside you.

he held you against him as he shot his cum inside you, not allowing you to squirm away as your walls clenched hard around him to the point where it was almost painful. he growled lowly as he emptied himself in your pussy, watching your face as it contorted in pleasure with an almost sinister smirk on his face.

as you came down from your overwhelming climax, you realized that he was still hard inside you, filling you up to the brim with not only his cock, but his cum as well.

you looked up at him surprised, and he only looked back at you with that same sinister smile.

“I’m not done yet,” he growled out, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. you breathed out heavily, looking up at him and taking in the largeness of his pupils; they were blown out so wide that you could barely make out the color of his irises.

he leaned his body down over you, his head moving next to yours as his lips brushed up against your ear. his movements caused his still hard cock to nudge even deeper inside you, and you gasped at the sensation.

“can you take it?” he asked, lightly nipping at your ear as he began softly grinding his hips into you once again.

you were sensitive, but the feeling of him moving inside you had your stomach fluttering, causing your walls to clench around him. you could practically hear his smirk as he chuckled, and your heart jumped at the sound.

you breathily begged for him to fuck you again, to really fuck you how he wanted to, and of course he couldn’t say no to that.

his hips pulled back and plunged into your core, the mess of both your juices squelching and spilling out as he ravaged you completely. he kept his face buried in your neck, his panting breaths tickling your skin as he groaned out with each powerful thrust.

you gripped at his back and allowed your nails to scratch down his skin, a desperate attempt to keep yourself sane. each hoarse whine that escaped from your throat only encouraged him further, and he quickened his pace to an inhuman speed.

your clit barely needed any stimulation for you to cum again.

“I-I’m sorry hyuck, I c-can’t,” you breathed out, gasping for air. “I can’t h-hold it,”

he bit your throat lightly in response, soothing the area with his tongue before speaking.

“It’s okay, baby.” he grunted, his hips losing their rhythm slightly as he pressed on. “I’m close too. just let go.”

that was all you needed to allow the band to snap, your second orgasm washing over you in waves. you didn’t realize you had sunk your teeth into his shoulder until he moaned loudly, causing you to open your eyes as he shot his cum inside you for the second time.

his hips continued to buck reflexively, and he lifted his head to capture your lips in a messy kiss, his tongue finding its way inside your mouth immediately.

it was quick but passionate, and you swore you could feel every emotion he felt for you with just that one kiss.

when he pulled out, you observed carefully as his eyes watched his cum drop out of you, his pupils still wide as he licked his lips. he snapped himself out of it when you opened your arms, inviting him to lay with you as you both came down from the exertion.

you played with his hair softly in the silence of the worm, the only sounds being of your breaths. as you closed your eyes, you heard him mumble.

“I think I love you.” he said quietly, trailing his finger up your stomach.

you immediately smiled, your heart warming with happiness.

“I think I love you too, hyuck.”

[officerjennie]

Treat Me Gentle, Kiss Me Soft

CW: brief dysphoria, past transphobia mention, gentle scar touching, penetration, smut, oral sex, dirty talk Rating: E Prompt: Soothing their fear Summary: trans!Eskel, GNC!Aiden. Eskel discovers Aiden looks damn fine in a dress, and they discuss Eskel's hesitations concerning sex. Aiden is soft and tender with him, and Eskel feels precious like he never has with anyone before him.

It took less than half an hour to buy everything he needed at the market, and time still didn’t go by fast enough. Eskel found himself more than eager to get back to his room - their room - no matter that it was still midday, not even pausing to look at the billboard for potential jobs as he cut a direct path towards the inn.

How rare an occasion it was for him to have any days off, and he found it all the more treasurable when there was someone waiting for him.

He took the steps upstairs two at a time, near silent due to his upbringing, consciously making a slight bit of noise out of habit in case a human might startle at how inhumane he could be with his movements. Their room was at the end of the hall on the right, from sight and smell he could tell most of the rest of the floor was empty - but even without heightened senses that would have been easy enough to guess. Few innkeepers in these parts would accept two witchers under their roof without a desperate need for coin.

Didn’t keep the man from up charging them, but Eskel had the spare coin and didn’t let Aiden know that part. Not that he wasn’t certain the other man wouldn’t find out, but at least it would keep the peace for now.

And peace was just a small yet wonderful part of what he was after.

When he reached the door there was a moment’s pause where Eskel wondered if he should knock or not, his mind whirling like it loved to do with guesses and second guesses: Aiden knew he was coming back so he shouldn’t have to knock, but wasn’t it courteous to give a warning anyway? But he would have heard him coming so it wasn’t necessary, but wouldn’t it be rude to not? What if he was doing something like undressing - even if Eskel had seen it all before it didn’t mean the world was meant to see it; but then no one else was around, so would it really be bad? But what if-

It took physical effort to stop his own thoughts, a shake of his head to quiet them before he opened the door without knocking, his heart only beating a little faster at the thoughts that had been against the action.

“They didn’t have any vials the size you wanted,” he started, quickly closing the door behind him as he presented his new supplies, half of which he’d gotten for Aiden, “but the village south of here usually-”

His next breath was a sharp intake, making up for the one Aiden took from him. Because as often as they’d traveled together Eskel had never been blessed enough to see him like this.

Their room had been equipped with a mirror, a rare luxury in inn rooms, though Eskel hadn’t imagined it would get much use between the two of them. He’d apparently been wrong.

Aiden’s back was to him, blocking most of the mirror from view as he soothed his hands down the silken fabric of a dress that barely contained his muscular build. Compared to many witchers Eskel had come across Aiden was rather lithe but the thin, thin straps that wrapped up and around his shoulders made every inch of muscle impossible to ignore, the loose fabric still somewhat tight around his toned midriff, the skirt gracing his mid thigh as the hand smoothing down its fabric reached the ends. And Eskel had never been one to put much thought into color but that particular shade of light blue was cementing itself as its favorite as it drew attention to the beauty in Aiden’s dark, dark skin.

It took everything Eskel had in him to tear his eyes away from the ends of that dress, and it was only because Aiden was looking back at him. A hint of teeth in his grin, dark eyes bright with something joyous, and there was a lightness to his expression that Eskel had never been witness to before.

“Like what you see?”

The purr made Eskel’s voice catch in his throat. He could only give a short nod in response but Aiden didn’t tease him for it for once, turning back to admire his own reflection, smoothing his hands down his chest and stomach as Eskel dared to step closer to get a better look at his front.

“Found it in a small market just last summer,” Aiden mused, not taking his eyes away from the dress in the mirror even as Eskel stepped up next to him. “Couldn’t wear it out, sadly. Can’t be getting monster guts on something this soft.”

Aiden didn’t look at him, but he looked near him, eyes half-lidded and mischief curling the edges of his mouth. “Wanna feel it, darling wolf mine?”

Eskel wanted nothing more than to do just that. Though it hadn’t crossed his mind until Aiden brought it up he suddenly found his hands were desperate to grasp that silken fabric, to feel it beneath his calloused fingertips, to watch it scrunch up and fold in on itself as it’s shoved out of the way of his greedy hands searching out more to touch.

He swallowed thickly, Aiden’s eyes following his hand through the reflection as he lifted just one, reaching out to barely touch the edges of the fabric, not daring to touch where it laid against his skin. It was cool against his skin, soft, light and fragile in a way Aiden was very much not. Eskel studied every inch of him in the mirror and memorized the way dark curls reached out from the v of the neckline, how his chest strained against the material, how Aiden rivaled the ethereal beauty of painted murals of the gods in something as simple as a dress he’d found and thrown on without a second thought.

Melitele’s tits but he loved this man, and he wanted him. Wanted to lick up the lines of his thighs, suck on that clever tongue, taste him like he hadn’t dared to taste anyone in years.

“It’s-” Eskel cleared his throat at the rough start, blinking to try and quell his own thoughts. “It’s soft.”

He didn’t look up, keeping his eyes on the reflection of his fingertips where they gently rubbed against the soft blue. But he felt Aiden’s gaze on him all the same, and when Aiden reached over to run the back of his fingers against his cheek and the edge of his lips he couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

“We don’t have to.” The words were a gentle offer though it did nothing for the stutter of his heartbeats. “But I have wondered if you’d like to.”

They’d come close. Dangerously close before. Eskel would remember those nights when he’d run a hand between his legs, his breath catching at the memory of sharp teeth nipping at his lips and jaw and neck. The way those hands had felt running up his back and hitching up his shirt, how Aiden’s scent had been on him for what felt like days just from a heated makeout, making him finger himself open and wonder what it would be like to have Aiden underneath him and between his thighs while he rode him for all he’s worth.

Gods but he wanted, but he was too afraid to reach out and take what could be his.

“We don’t have to.”

He looked up at last, finding no clever grin but a soft frown, and Aiden turned to face him instead of the mirror. Rough palms cupped his cheeks like he was something precious and it made his chest flutter in the way only Aiden had ever been able to manage, his thumbs stroking his skin as his head tilted, braids spilling over his shoulder like black ink.

“I want you, my darling wolf.” Aiden leaned in close enough to brush their noses together, his long lashes gracing the top of his high cheek bones when his eyes fluttered closed for a few moments. “But though my nose tells me you want the same, I understand if you’re not…” A breath through his nose, and then his eyes met Eskel’s, steady and warm. “However you’ll have me, love. If it’s only ever chaste kisses by firelight or bare skin with no sex, it’s whatever you want.”

Eskel had never been a wordsmith but he’d never found the ability to speak so quickly stolen from him by anyone else. He found the only thing holding him up were the rough hands gentle on his cheeks and the fabric that he’d clenched in his hand which he used to gently tug Aiden closer.

“I want you,” he rasped out, emotion making his voice hoarse. “But…”

“You don’t have to explain it, love, truly.” A kiss was placed at the tip of his nose that was meant to soothe him but Eskel clenched the soft fabric of the dress harder to fight the fears that held him back.

“I know. But I want to- and I don’t want to not fuck you.”

“Well.” Aiden blinked, and then ducked in for a peck to his cheek, dusting them quickly all the way to the corner of Eskel’s mouth that couldn’t help but twitch upwards. “Let’s at least get cozy while we talk then, shall we?”

Eskel found himself tugged along to the bed, where they made themselves cozy enough pressed against each other’s sides, their backs to the wall and legs stretched out across the bed the wrong way. Aiden’s legs were impossibly long and begged to be touched but Eskel kept his hands out of trouble by holding his hand instead, knowing it would be best to discuss this before they went any further.

If Aiden would still want to go further.

He breathed deeply to prevent the panic that threatened to rise up; no matter how many times someone knew all of him and still accepted him, still loved him, it never failed to make him worry that this time it would be different. That this time he’d be found lacking or worse, and if it happened with Aiden he wasn’t sure how he’d recover.

Was love always this terrifying? Or was that just a product of who he was and how the world had treated him? He rested his head against Aiden’s shoulder, playing idly with his fingers, letting the touch ground him as much as it could.

“It’s not something that’s easy to talk about.” He always started the conversation like this. Let the other person know he’d wanted to bring it up, that he hadn’t really been hiding it but hadn’t known how to tell them. That it was difficult to bring up. Not in as many words, not always in the same words - he was just grateful that Aiden was so damn good at hearing what he didn’t say.

That was the easy part. He shifted closer to Aiden to hide the urge to squirm; talking about his body always made him itch, made him want to crawl out of it, no matter that most any other part of the day he was comfortable in his own skin. It was fine until he drew attention to it and thought about it - about how others might think about it, and he knew damn well from his scars that people could be nasty with their thoughts.

Most people didn’t matter. But Aiden did. And he struggled more with words over this issue than he did any other.

“I don’t… When I’m naked I- my privates don’t...exactly look like the average man’s.”

Aiden squeezed his hand, intertwining their fingers in a nonsensical pattern. “Honey I’ve seen a lot of dicks in my life, no two men look exactly alike.”

A steady inhale through his nose got him through his next words. “I’ve had people look at me before and refuse to call me a man.”

The hand intertwined with his own stopped moving, clenching a little tighter, and though Aiden didn’t tense up further than that Eskel knew he was angry. He was good at keeping loose when angry. And perhaps for the briefest of moments Eskel’s mind played with the thought that he could be angry at him and not the ones who’d hurt him before.

“I’m no less of a man in a dress,” Aiden mused, his tone light, fingers going back to twisting around his as if they both couldn’t hear the cold anger beneath his words. “And you’re no less a man no matter what you look like.”

Those words relieved a pressure in his chest that Eskel would feel bad about having later. He always did; always hated the doubts and fears, though he knew there was nothing he could do about them. Knew just the same that any apologies would be brushed away or scowled at, depending on the recipient, so like all of his fears he kept it to himself, instead turning to kiss the bare shoulder that he’d had his cheek pressed against.

“S’long as you're fine with that, I’m fine with feeling your dress.” With his fears gone a playful grin tugged at his lips, his free hand coming to rest on the thick thigh that had been calling to him since the first time he’d discovered Aiden had little shame when it came to his bare skin. It flexed under his touch and Eskel let out a quiet snort, running his hand up until just his thumb was underneath the dress, giving the firm muscles a nice squeeze as he looked up at him.

“Just the dress?” Aiden’s natural look was a mischievous one, and it set Eskel on fire seeing it then. He wanted to see exactly what kind of mischief Aiden could get into with him.

He just had one simple request. “The dress stays on.”

And Aiden was more than happy to oblige him.

---

Eskel had been pulled into Aiden’s lap, one hand tangling in the braids that had been begging to be tugged, the other holding Aiden’s face as they kissed each other breathless. It had occurred to him on several occasions how that quicksilver tongue of Aiden’s could possibly drive him crazy and he was imagining them all over again - what it would feel like to have it teasing the soft flesh of his inner thighs, interspersed with sharp nips; what it would feel like licking his cock, licking into him, driving him wild and setting a fire burning inside of him.

He moaned as Aiden licked into his mouth, other hand running over the short hairs at the side of his head, an idle thought that he’d gone longer than usual without shaving that side quickly being banished in favor of clearing his mind of nothing but the heat of those hands at his hips gripping him tight.

Gods but he’d wanted, and he was finally going to have him.

“I’ve always wondered,” Aiden mused against his lips when they finally paused to breathe, his tongue brushing against Eskel’s lips when he licked his own, “how you would taste. How you would feel on my tongue- gods would that be alright, darling wolf? Can I taste you?”

Eskel shivered at the thought, leaning their foreheads together and taking a few shuddering breaths. “Yes.”

He didn’t have to see it, he could feel Aiden’s grin. Could count on the flash of teeth and the glint in his eyes, knowing him well enough to expect the reactions even in this new situation they’d found themselves in.

Once he managed to steady himself enough to lean back and away, his pants could not come off fast enough. They didn’t come off all the way, shoved down to his thighs with only a moment’s hesitation, over a decade of trust overriding the fear Aiden had sufficiently beaten back just a little while before with his words.

Aiden’s hands cupped his ass as he stared greedily at Eskel’s cock, eyes flicking up right before he tugged him in close, kissing at the fuzzy trail of hair that ran down from his belly button all the way down. Eskel was left supporting himself with his forearms against the wall, head resting against it as he looked down, watching entranced with his lips parted as Aiden left such gentle kisses they made his stomach flutter.

“You let me know if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, love.” He licked a strip of his skin, making his muscles clench, and Eskel was already thankful Aiden was all but holding him up like this - otherwise his knees would surely fail him. “Want to make your toes curl, not your stomach curdle.”

“Gonna do that with words alone?”

“You know I could.” One last teasing flash of teeth, and then any response Eskel might have had died on his lips with his next breathy gasp as Aiden ducked in to press his tongue firmly against him.

His cock was practically dripping already though Aiden had done little more than kiss him up until that point, his need and want showing but Aiden didn’t seem to mind at all. Aiden tasted every inch of him just as greedily, starting firm and going from root to tip, then leaning back to flick his tongue against Eskel’s small head and drawing noises from him. It made Eskel want to rock into him but he held himself back, holding as still as possible while Aiden licked further down him, pressing against the hole right below his cock and making him choke on his breath.

“Fuck.”

“Mmmm, yes,” Aiden purred, pressing his lips to the base of his cock and looking up at him behind long lashes. “I’ll do that too, love.”

“You’d better,” Eskel growled down at him with no real heat, his hips twitching despite his best efforts, though Aiden made no move to stop the movement.

Instead, Aiden kissed him, firm but not quick, before sucking the whole of him into his mouth. And the noise Eskel made was one he didn’t even have the mind to be embarrassed by, too lost in how easily he fit in Aiden’s hot, wet mouth, how his tongue could work the whole of him so easily, so efficiently, and how eager Aiden was to make out with his cock.

He knew he’d be good with his tongue, but Eskel hadn’t realized how good, and he was regretting not having their earlier conversation much much earlier.

Aiden made up for lost time by driving him wild. There was no shame to be found in the noises he made, how he’d purr against him, the greedy noises that escaped his throat while he worked Eskel’s small cock with his tongue. He sucked and licked and gently grazed his teeth against it until Eskel was shaking from the effort to stay still, to not attempt fucking that hot mouth, until Eskel was certain if anyone else had been on that floor with him that their activities would not go unnoticed.

Not that he cared if anyone knew. Let them hear how he keened for his beloved cat, how he moaned his name into the faded wallpaper that he clawed into to stay afloat.

It was when that tongue dipped lower again, pressing into him just a touch, that he couldn’t help it anymore. Eskel rocked against his mouth without thought to the motions, Aiden never once moving to slow or stop his movements, just holding him up where his arse met his thighs and letting him chase the pleasure. As he moved Aiden moaned into him, tongue pressing against his insides and making Eskel keen some more, nails digging into the wall when Aiden removed his tongue and left him feeling far too empty without it.

He licked back up to his hard cock, kissing it with open lips, voice rough with want when he pressed words against him. “Going to fuck my mouth, darling wolf mine?”

“Want me to?” He could barely hear himself past his own desire.

Aiden hummed against him, resting his head, nuzzling into him and giving slow, lazy licks as he took his sweet time thinking it over. “Depends…” Another lazy lap of his tongue, two, three, and Eskel was damn ready to hold his head still and fuck his mouth instead of waiting for the answer. “Would you be able to come for me again if I let you?”

Eskel ground lightly against his mouth, feeling his lips drag against him, hardly able to keep his eyes open at how delicious it felt. “Depends,” he drawled out as a tease, Aiden’s greedy mouth chasing his movements, “how good you are with your cock.”

“Then I’ll aim for three.”

And that promise broke the rest of Eskel’s desire to hold back.

He ground against Aiden without restraint, leaving it up to Aiden to fight for a breath if he needed it, desperate to have his cock as deep into his mouth as he could get it. There wasn’t much for thrusting but he could grind against his tongue and lips and he did, moaning deep from within his chest as Aiden greedily ate him up. His hands itched to be in his hair, holding his head with the roots of it, and he managed to transfer his weight to only one forearm just to be able to do that. Wrapping the braids around his wrist lightly until he had a decent grip, hearing and feeling Aiden moan against him at the tug of it, fingers grasping at the back of his head so Eskel could really work his mouth.

It was all so much, but not enough. His breath caught in his throat on a moan as Aiden sucked him hard, making his hips stutter, but he wanted so much more than even this. Wanted Aiden’s fingers inside of him, working him open, his tongue pushing in alongside them until he was writhing around them. Wanted to feel Aiden’s cock against his own, grinding against him, making him so wet there’d be little use of lube. Wanted to feel him pressing into him until all he could feel was Aiden, all of him, wanted to clench around him and make him go as wild as Eskel always felt around him until he was spilling into him-

Just the thought of that, of Aiden coming inside of him, made Eskel’s orgasm hit him hard and without warning. His jaw locked while his hips stuttered desperately, a whine tearing out of his throat as he ground against Aiden roughly, imagining feeling his hot seed spill into him and leak out of him for the rest of the day. His own dripped slowly down his thighs but Aiden greedily lapped up every drop that he could, groaning as he helped Eskel through the waves of pleasure, sucking his cock until it was just on the edge of too much and Eskel tugged on his braids a little too roughly.

With a final, firm lick, Aiden let up, letting Eskel slump and rest against the wall, trusting Aiden to not let him fall. He panted heavily, finally releasing his desperate grip on Aiden’s hair, gently scratching the back of his head in lieu of an apology while Aiden nuzzled into the soft flesh of his upper thigh.

They stayed like that for a minute while Eskel came down, being grounded by peppered and light kisses all across the stretch marks that ran across his thighs. He hummed, content, as he let more and more of his weight be held up by Aiden’s strong arms, melting at the tender affection that no one else had ever deigned to give him.

Eventually, Aiden let him down gently, kissing all the way up the soft skin of his stomach, his chest, his collarbone and neck and all the way to his lips when Eskel was seated in his lap. It made his breath catch, the tender affection, and for a brief while Eskel and Aiden both ignored the obvious need pressed against Eskel’s thigh in favor of trading soft kisses.

This was unlike anything he’d ever had with anyone else, and Eskel savored it like he’d never taste it again - but he knew without a doubt he could have it whenever he wanted, because Aiden was his. Strong and steady beneath his fingertips, devoted and loving and there.

Sappy emotions aside, Eskel’s pants were cutting a little uncomfortably into his legs, as were his smalls. He gave Aiden another firm peck before wiggling out of his grip, falling back on the bed to unceremoniously rip his pants and the rest of his clothes off to toss wherever they might land, letting his hands rest on top of his own stomach as he sighed.

“You are stunning, love.”

Eskel quirked an eyebrow at Aiden but it did nothing to hide the rising blush. A hand found its way up his leg, squeezing as it went, Aiden’s eyes following its path with hunger.

“Beautiful,” Aiden murmured to himself, moving to crawl between Eskel’s legs, kissing up one as he went as if he couldn’t keep his hands and mouth off of him. Eskel made room for him and reached out to play with his hair as he crawled up him further, jerking under him when he kissed his still too-sensitive cock - but he didn’t tell him to stop, didn’t want him to stop, wanted to bask in the warmth of him, them.

“Tell me how to, love.”

“Hmmm?” Eskel cracked his eyes open, not having even realized they’d been closed, drinking in the sight of that cool blue against Aiden’s beautiful dark skin. But he had to roll the request around in his head, not knowing what he meant. “How to what?”

“Fuck you, darling.” Another kiss to his cock made him shudder, his fingers winding around the braids he’d been playing with. “I want to do this right.”

“That-” Eskel closed his eyes again, free hand itching for something to hold onto so he reached out blindly for one of Aiden’s, linking their fingers together just because he could. “That one’s fine. S’easier, don’t need lube. Do we even have any?”

He felt Aiden shrug against him. “I’ve usually got some with me. Pesky calluses make for some rough lonely nights.”

That earned him a soft snort, Eskel grinning as he opened his eyes again as Aiden shifted to get more comfortable on his side. He kissed the hand linked in his own before taking it back, and soon Eskel knew just how rough those calluses could be when those clever fingers pressed against his cock.

It felt good despite it, though it was still too much. He was thankful when Aiden left his cock alone to dip beneath it, his middle finger gently rubbing at his hole, encouraging him to relax and allow his finger to slip in.

Eskel reveled in how Aiden took over. Laid him back and kissed every inch of him he could reach as he worked one finger gently into him. The pressure was never too much, the stretch never too far, Aiden taking his time so that Eskel felt like he could melt back into the bed beneath him. If he could purr he would have, sighing as he felt himself open up slowly, as Aiden pressed praises into the scars on his soft stomach and thighs as if he was worth every single one of the honeyed words he gave him.

With Aiden, he almost felt worth it. Almost felt as precious as Aiden treated him. And as he gently tugged on his braids just because he could, just to let Aiden know he was listening, Eskel thought that maybe someday he’d believe every single word.

It was when the third finger was deep inside of him, gentle presses to the spot that let soft moans slip from his lips, that Eskel started to move with him. That it was finally too much to lay there and let himself be cared for because he wanted more, wanted to feel Aiden moving inside of him.

“S’good, that’s enough.” His words were more like sighs, Eskel tugging at his braids once more, and with a final kiss to his stomach Aiden complied - though the withdrawing of his fingers left Eskel far too empty for his liking.

“How would you like it, love?” Aiden moved to his knees, kissing up to his chest, pausing briefly to brush his lips against the scars that ran underneath his pecks and peppering them with light kisses before kissing up to meet his lips. “Like this? On your hands and knees?”

The latter sounded very, very tempting, and for a moment Eskel considered it. How Aiden’s fingers would bite into his hips, how he’d feel draped against his back as he drove into him - but it felt too…

“Like this.” He nipped Aiden’s lip before soothing it with his tongue, wrapping one leg around him to draw him closer.

Eskel wanted to bask in what they’d built together that day. The sharing of their more private lives, kissing scars, gentle hands on skin that had seen naught but a rough life. And facing each other while they both fell apart, in each other’s arms, felt like the right way to continue.

Aiden kissed him like he believed just the same, ending it with a few nips of his own before sitting back. The man knew he was unfairly attractive and took a moment to run his hands down his silken dress, edges of his lips quirking up as he did, until his fingers played with the edges of the skirt. Eskel watched with interest, one hand reaching down to run his fingers over his own cock, not enough to chase any sort of pleasure but enough so that the absence of touch didn’t make him ache.

He could have probably gotten off like that though, watching Aiden touch himself, and he stowed that thought away for later inspection as Aiden lifted up the skirt just enough to tease him.

“Bet you’re going to feel so good for me, darling wolf,” Aiden purred, one of his hands going to rub at the obvious erection hidden beneath the dress. Some of the fabric quickly turned a darker blue and Eskel heard his own breath hitching at the wet spot, his fingers itching to rub at himself harder, faster. “Going to be so hot, so tight, so perfect for me, love.”

“Won’t find out if you don’t get on with it.”

Aiden trilled, his own breath catching at his own touch. “Want me that bad? Want me to fuck you til you forget your own name in favor of mine?”

“Yes,” he panted, and by the gods did he mean it.

Aiden finally hitched up the skirt of his dress, and Eskel groaned at the sight of him. No smalls to cover him up, pre slowly leaking from the tip of his cock down the shaft. He’d seen his cock before - Aiden had no sense of shame when it came to his own nudity - but never had he seen it hard, and never had he wanted more than that moment to suck it into his mouth until his nose rested in the black curls at its base.

Yet another thought for later that he would be going back to, but for now he reached for Aiden, pulling him in as Aiden took his cock in hand and pressed it against Eskel’s.

It felt even more sinfully wonderful than he’d thought it would, their cocks moving together. Aiden held his and guided its head across Eskel’s slowly, replacing Eskel’s fingers as they clung to Aiden’s shoulders, his back, wherever they could reach.

“Fuck” was all Aiden could manage then, his eyes focused on where he rubbed them together, swirling his cock against Eskel’s, then running the length of himself against him. It took all Eskel had in him to watch as well, enraptured, lips parted and eyes heady at the way they moved together, the feel of it making him want to drop his head to the pillows and close his eyes and drown in it.

Aiden eventually let go of himself, pressing further against him, lifting one of his legs up by his thick thigh while the other caressed any part of Eskel he could reach as he slowly rutted against him. If it hadn’t been clearly by how achingly hard he was it was clear in his movements then, in the way his words had become nothing but cut off phrases of praises and curses: Aiden was close, and it had taken nothing but touching Eskel to get him there.

If he’d had the mind to think on it, Eskel might have preened. Instead he rocked his hips into his movements, watching as Aiden tried to keep control and almost failed, watching as he slowly wound up further and further towards his own edge.

Aiden caught himself eventually, a sharp intake through his nose as he forced himself to lean back just enough to reach down once more, taking himself in hand to guide the tip of his leaking cock to Eskel’s well prepped entrance. And when he finally pressed against him, finally breached him and started to fill him, Eskel couldn’t hold his head up anymore to watch.

There were no fireworks, no earth shattering realizations nor heavenly singing as Aiden slowly pushed into him. The world would not remember that moment but fuck if Eskel didn’t feel like the world was anything but the two of them for the lifetime of a single breath. For that moment all his world was the stretch of himself adjusting around Aiden’s cock, the sweaty sheen that had come over the both of them, how his own nails bit into his lover’s skin and how Aiden’s face had scrunched up like he was solving the world’s most complicated question.

It didn’t take long before Aiden was flush against him, his breaths coming harder, his arm shaking where it still held Eskel’s thigh to push his legs open wider. Eskel found his breaths came easy enough but he reveled in the feeling of something inside of him, someone inside of him. Aiden, his Aiden, who’d stretched him with care and pressed the most tender of kisses to his scars and stretch marks like he was someone precious.

He breathed, clenching around the cock inside of him lightly, drawing a moan out from the both of them that was followed by a long curse from Aiden.

“You’re so tight, love, how-” He circled his hips, grinding into Eskel, and swore as he moaned once more. “Gods but I love the feel of you, you feel perfect, amazing love- perfect for me, just-”

It was such a rare sight. Aiden being anywhere near close to undone in any fashion, his tight control remaining intact even in his flashes of anger, and Eskel couldn’t help but reach out and tug him in close to kiss him senseless. It earned him some more delicious grinding but they were stuttered movements, ones that told Eskel Aiden was closer than he’d thought.

And wouldn’t it be rather unbecoming of him to make him hold back any longer?

Eskel let their tongues run against each other while Aiden started to shallowly thrust into him, his own pleasure not having built back up to anything close to Aiden’s keeping his head clear enough to want to make mischief of his own. He nipped and sucked on his lower lip, running his tongue on it to feel him gasp, slowly moving with Aiden’s hip movements as he held him close.

“Feel good?” He kissed him in lieu of waiting for an answer, not needing one. “I’ve wanted this for a while now.”

“Have you, love?” Aiden was breathless, and Eskel reveled in it.

“Yes,” he breathed against his lips, grinding his hips up into him and feeling Aiden jerk with the effort to not chase his own release. “Wondered what it would feel like, you fucking me. In a bed, up against a wall. Bent over whatever poor surface you could find.”

“Fuck, you’d be gorgeous on display for me, perfect, fucking- perfect, love.”

Eskel squeezed around him, encouraging him to fuck him harder though Aiden still held back. He kissed up to his ear, licking and nipping the shell of it and feeling him shiver against him. “Going to feel this stretch for days and think of nothing but you, kitty cat. How you felt fucking into me, moaning my name, spilling into me-”

As if the thought alone bid him to do so, Aiden came hard with a gasp, jerking his hips and grinding into Eskel and spilling his seed deep into him. It had Eskel’s eyes rolling back, Aiden’s name dripping from his lips as he moved with him and helped him ride out his orgasm, squeezing around him in a gentle rhythm to encourage it on.

Eventually, Aiden collapsed onto him, letting his leg go in favor of worming his arms underneath him to wrap tightly around his waist, head pillowed against his chest. He buried his face there, still letting out the occasional soft noise, still buried deep inside of him as if that’s the only place he’d ever want to be.

With a hum, Eskel let himself relax and melt under him, slowly releasing the tension that had been building up in the growing pleasure. His own cock was hard and needy once more but it could wait, Aiden could have this and deserved it, this respite and soft affection of his own. And Eskel was happy to give it to him.

He held him and ran his fingers gently across the skin of his shoulders, rubbing soothing patterns into his upper back where he could reach. After stretching the cramp out of his left leg he hitched it up over Aiden’s, tugging him impossibly closer just to enjoy the feeling of them pressed together. He gently smoothed his hand over a rather wicked looking scar that ran across one shoulder blade, unable to kiss it at the moment but soothing the wound like it might take away any pain it had caused, his body pleasantly buzzing with the pleasure that still coursed through him as Aiden laid on top of him and just breathed.

“You are,” Aiden started after a minute’s rest, his words lazy and lax as they were pressed into his chest, “unfair.”

“Unfair?” Eskel smirked down at him, tugging him up to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yes. Unfair.” Aiden laughed, more air than anything else, his eyes alight with humor. “Perfect. Astounding. Sexy enough to leave me wanting even when I already have you, love.”

“Tongue’s working again, I see.” It was easier to tease than face any of the praise, no matter that Eskel adored it - only from him. On anyone else’s lips it had always felt false, tasted bitter with deceit, but when Aiden kissed him then all he could taste was himself.

It didn’t take long before Aiden was moving again. Slower than before, a gentle lulling of their hips, unhurried and not having to hold himself tense this time around. Aiden kissed him lazily as they moved, his cock only half hard inside of him but gaining more interest, Eskel’s own desperate to be touched but for now went without.

They stayed kissing this time, the only words shared between them hushed ones against each other’s lips, quiet gasps of each other’s name when Aiden pressed against the sweet spot that made Eskel involuntarily squeeze around him, honeyed words that they meant kissed into the corners of their mouths while they both felt the heat building once more.

It was long, drawn out, slow. They caressed each other wherever they could reach, kissing each other’s cheeks and necks and shoulders like each kiss was a confession. And when they could no longer catch their breaths, when it was all too much, when Eskel’s eyes misted from the swelling emotion that came with the tight coil threatening to snap and send him over the edge once more, Aiden intertwined their hands together to hold him tight as he kissed the tears away from his eyes.

Eskel came first, and it was nothing like the desperation he’d felt before. It was a heat that stole the breath from his lungs and tore a single sob from his chest, a desperate plea on his lips - for what, he did not know. And Aiden came not long after, with Eskel’s name on his lips, escaping with the softest and most fragile sound he’d ever heard from him.

When they finally could breathe once more, Aiden slipped out of him, the both of them groaning from the absence. Not a word was said over the emotions that had been heavy between them because no words felt necessary then, Aiden shifting up until he could lay his head on one of the pillows with a deep sigh, scooping Eskel up into his arms to rest against his chest. The fabric of the dress still felt cool to the touch somehow, Eskel sparing an idle thought to hoping they didn’t stain it with any unsightly fluids - but he didn’t have it in him to care enough beyond that, his eyelashes still wet, his entire body humming though his legs needed a good stretch once more.

He sighed into his lover’s embrace, feeling Aiden press a few kisses to the top of his head, feeling safe in his strong arms. And he couldn’t help but return the affection, running a gentle finger across the burn scars that stretched across the right side of Aiden’s chest, following the movement with his lips and feeling the stutter of the heartbeat beneath them.

“I love you, darling wolf mine.”

Eskel felt that love, smiling softly as his eyes fluttered closed, not caring that it was nowhere near night as he hummed pleasantly, settling in to sleep. “Love you too, mischief.”

And there was no more pleasant sound in the world than Aiden’s laugh, though it was the sound of his steading heartbeat that finally lulled him to sleep.

-

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[writer-k-pop]

Because of a Rude Biker

난 다시는 작은 길을 걷지 않을 거야. I’m never walking down tiny roads again.

Description: You’ve met him and a couple of his friends quite a few times before. But this once was different. And because of a rude biker, and some perfect timing, his true identity is revealed and new friendships are made. Warnings: Reader gets scraped up a bit. Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol!Vernon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"Here, this is my number." Chuhan said while writing on a napkin. The summer heat was beating down on our heads and our drinks had condensation running down the glass. We both had our phones, yes, but in the moment we ignored the fact for the simple gesture of handing his number to me before he left with Minseok and Myungho. "I'm going to be busy for the next few months so I don't know if I'll be able to get over here much."

I smile and remember the first few times I saw him.

It was a few months ago. I had been frequenting a nice courtyard near a musical theatre that had a coffee cart and tables to seat at and spend sometime in the sun, doodling, journaling, or doing whatever I desired that day. I was doodling the theatre building because it was a cool looking building and I wanted to try my hand at drawing prospectives (it wasn't good, but it was worth the practice). A random guy sitting at the same long table with some of his friends had leaned over and started up a conversation with me. The random guys ended up being Minseok, Chuhan, and Myungho. We started chatting and then the next time I went, they showed up too. And the next time. And the next time. It kind of became a thing that we did. Sometimes Minseok and/or Myungho didn't show up. But Chuhan always did. It never really occurred to us to exchange phone numbers until today.

A pout forms on my lips as I begin to worry about Chuhan and his friends/coworkers.

"I hope they're not too busy." I murmur to myself adjusting my mask as we still all have to wear them. As I do this, it kind of occurs to me that I've never seen Minseok, Chuhan, or Myungho's faces without masks on.

I shrug off the thought and refocus on the small back alley I'm walking through. It's barely big enough for a car to fit down yet somehow the drivers here manage to squeeze through like it's no big deal.

Bobbing my head along to the music playing through my earphones, I don't hear the biker coming up behind me on the narrow road. Before I can register what's happening, the biker speeds up next to me, kicks out a leg and knocks me over, and then is speeding away as my forearm stings against the prickly ground.

"Hey!" A male voice shouts at the biker (who's too far away to care) from behind me as my knee echos the sting of my forearm.

I sit back on my butt and rip out my earbuds before gingerly looking at my injuries. My purse flew off my shoulder and landed a good foot away. My knee is a bit scratched up and my forearm is as well, though small blood droplets are starting to appear.

"Are you okay?" A male with blonde hair and soft asks, kneeling down next to me, and another appears standing on my other side. "Oh, you're bleeding."

"I'm okay, yeah." I say in a shaky voice, the shock of it all throwing me off guard. "I live just down the street, I'm okay."

"You should clean that off right away." The male standing says with concern, "Our company is literally right here, at least come and wash it off so it doesn't get infected."

Against my better judgement- the one that says going anywhere with strange males is bad- I nod. It's just something about their eyes and their posture. Plus, the one who screamed angrily at the biker is still staring in anger at the path the biker disappeared down minutes ago.

"Here, let me help you." The once kneeling male offers me a hand, "My name's Jisoo."

"(y/n)." I tell him and take his offered hand. I try to put pressure on my scraped knee but the sting intensifies and I stumble to regain balance on the uninjured leg.

"Careful." Jisoo warns, gripping my arm tighter.

"Just back here." The other male points to my left. Standing around us and the entrance of a building are 11 other males, all masked, of course.

"Someone come and grab her stuff." Jisoo calls out to the group who is looking at me with concern.

The other guys start to shuffle around, one even holds the door open a few steps before Jisoo and I reach the door. I notice, though, that three guys stand a little ways away, all staring at me dumbfounded, and very quiet. I take a couple seconds to look them over and they're wearing outfits EXTREMELY similar to what Minseok, Myungho, and Chuhan were wearing.

"Watch your step." The one holding the door open says as a warning and I have to revert my attention to where I'm placing my feet.

Jisoo turns his head and says something to someone behind me while I tune him out and take in the interior of the building. The white walls reflect the fluorescent lights and brighten the room. Turns this way and that and up a small flight of stairs and Jisoo leads me into a large open conference room, which looks oddly familiar.

"Sit here." Jisoo instructs me and pulls out a chair. He then pulls out a chair for himself.

I lower myself into the chair and try to bend my knee. Bad idea. The sting makes me suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut. It's the kind of sting that's sharp and sometimes causes shivers to run down my spine. The worst kind of sting, in my opinion.

"Here's the stuff, hyung." Another guy comes trotting into the room with a red cross labeled white box. Another brings a bowl of water and a couple of hand towels. The others gather in the room with mumbled conversations.

I pull the mask off my face and lay it down on the table as someone else sets my phone and purse next to my mask.

"Thanks." I smile at him and he nods back.

After taking his mask off, Jisoo wordlessly dampens one of the towels then pats the space between his legs.

"You don't have -." I try to refute his offer but his face silences my voice. For a second I forget how to breathe but my scrapes quickly remind me that I need to otherwise they're going to rain hellfire on my nerves. "You're not just a random Jisoo." I exhale in shock.

Joshua leans back, slightly afraid that I'll start screaming. I look around at the others and slowly piece together the number: 13, and the room we're in: it's the same as where Seventeen filmed their fifth year anniversary idea session. I'm just looking at it from a VERY different angle.

Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath, uncertain about how I'm going to react. I think I surprised them because I definitely know I surprised myself with my response.

"Okay." I say surprisingly calmly in response to Joshua's instruction for me to put my leg up. "But only cause I have one arm out of commission."

And like someone took the kettle off of the heat, the members all exhale.

"You sure you're okay?" Seungcheol asks, taking his mask off and the others follow.

I nod, my nervousness being replaced with confidence the longer I'm under the realization that I am being helped by the Seventeen.

I nod but the action is cut short as Joshua cleans off my scraped knee causing me to inhale quickly and scrunch my face in pain.

"Sorry." Joshua mutters but continues to wipe away the dirt from my skin.

"It's fine." I squeeze out through clenched teeth. "Almost done." Joshua tells him and continues to clean the scrape.

"So, where were you coming from?" Seungkwan wonders with curious eyes in attempt to provide some distraction from the pain.

"Uhm, I was just hanging out with some friends." I answer him, forcing myself to look way from my knee.

"Was it far from here?" Hoshi followed up.

I shake my head, "It was just in the courtyard by the theatre that's like 6 blocks away or something."

"Hey, isn't that where you guys said you were going?" Dino points a finger towards Vernon, DK, and The8.

I glance at the three and they're the ones dressed the same as Minseok, Chuhan, and Myungho. The room is silent as the three share a nervous look. Then Joshua breaks the silence by ripping open a bandaid.

"We did..." DK trails off, staring directly at Vernon and Myungho. I feel Joshua stick the bandaid over my knee before patting my foot, silently saying that I can lower my leg.

"Maybe you guys saw each other!" Jun comments happily.

"I... I think I did..." I stare at the three avoiding any eye contact with me. The pieces slowly starting to fit together. Joshua reaches out for my arm which I easily volunteer over. "Oh, I definitely di- oh, mother-!" I yelp mid-sentence as Joshua wipes away the dirt and blood.

"Sorry, sorry." Joshua mumbles apologetically.

"It's fine." I breathe out and redirect back to the three who's familiar eyes aren't just from the computer screen. "Chuhan, Minseok, and Myungho?" I question them on the names they used with me.

DK and Vernon just smile while The8 adds a tiny and shy wave.

"And you were going to be too busy to come meet with me because of the comeback..." I continue to guess.

They nod and some members stare at the three in awe while the others snicker under their breath. Joshua just continues to wipe away at my arm which is still stinging.

"And you made up names because....?" I lean forward, trailing off to wait for an answer.

"We didn't know how you'd react to us?" Vernon offers but states it more as a question.

"This is going to sting." Joshua informs me just mere milliseconds before spraying something that most definitely stings.

"Ugh." I groan, "I'm never walking down tiny roads again."

"You're going to have to if you're going to come visit us." Seungkwan pouts.

"Who said I was visiting?" I question, realizing a couple seconds later how that actually sounds coming out of my mouth.

"No one but I know Vernon gave you his number so I was kind of guessing." Seungkwan replies as Joshua rips open a few bandaids to cover up my injured arm.

"You mean Chuhan." I correct him with a smirk.

"CHUHAN?" Hoshi repeats the name, "You told her your name was CHUHAN?" He throws his head back and laughs out loud. Dino, Jun, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol join him while others just smile in amusement.

"Okay but like did (y/n) never question how ridiculous the name was?" Mingyu interrogates me, amused at my naiveness.

I shrug, pulling my arm closer after Joshua lets it go. "I know people sometimes have crazy names and I've heard weirder names so it seemed like a plausible name."

"Okay but did it never hit you because DK hyung used his name backwards and The8 hyung used his korean name!" Vernon wonders with a tiny ounce of whine laced in.

"I couldn't see your face. And the masks obscure a lot of people's visuals." I explain and wave my hand in front of my face to emphasis. "Including celebrities. Isn't that the reason celebs constantly wore them before we were all required to?"

"She has a point." The8 points at me in agreement.

"So were you boys ever going to spill your secret?" I ask, leaning my cheek against my fist.

They all stutter with a loss of words.

"We're taking that as a no." Hoshi crosses his arms and moves to stand behind me.

"Yes we are." Seungkwan agrees and joins Hoshi.

I start to panic slightly at the thought that I might have started a rift between the members but Vernon's laugh breaks that tension.

"No, it's not like that." He explains, "We were going to tell her just like not for a little while."

"It was nice to talk with someone who didn't know who we were." Dokyeom continues while I just look at them in amusement.

"I just tagged along cause it got me out of the dorm." The8 gives his very simple reason. Jun chuckles and gives him a high-five.

"So, you knew I was a fan from the multitude of times we discussed music and yet you still didn't bother to let me know?" I question.

"Yeah... kind of." Vernon confirms, smiling sheepishly.

"Fair." I nod and lean back in my chair.

"So you're not upset?" DK asks, curious at my response.

I shake my head, "Why would I be? You were trying to protect yourselves cause I could've been a crazed fan. Makes sense. I probably would've done the same thing."

Before they can reply, my phone starts to buzz with a call. I smile apologetically to the members before answer the call.

"Where are you?" My friend asks over the phone, "You were supposed to be here like 25 minutes ago."

"Shit." I guess being knocked over completely made me forget my plans. "I'll be right there."

"I forgot I was supposed to meet my friend." I tell them apologetically.

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead." Seungcheol nods, "Next time, let us buy you a meal." "You don't have to." I shake my head quickly.

Seungcheol holds up a hand, "No, no, I want to. This all happened in front of our building so I feel bad."

"It wasn't your fault though..." I try to reason with him.

"It was that stupid biker." Vernon mumbles angrily.

"Still, you'll let us know if you have free time?" Joshua presses.

I nod in defeat. "I will." I say and stand up then stand slightly awkwardly as no one moves.

"Why don't you walk her out, Vernon?" Wonwoo suggests and I nearly forgot he was there as he was so quiet standing in the back with Woozi.

"Yeah, walk her out." Hoshi agrees and nudges me towards the door while The8 does the same to Vernon.

Vernon holds the door open for me and I walk out holding my bandaged arm close to my chest.

"Sorry for lying." Vernon apologies once we're down the stairs.

"You don't need to apologize." I say, "It makes a lot of sense why you didn't tell me so don't feel bad. Again, I would've done the same thing."

Vernon smiles softly, "Nice to know it wasn't a completely crazy idea."

"You were the one to suggest it?" I question in amusement.

"No, The8 hyung did." He explains, "I just agreed to it before DK hyung could suggest a crazier idea."

"Good thinking." I compliment his train of thought.

"You sure you're going to be okay?" He asks, voice full of concern.

I nod with certainty, "Yeah, I'll be fine. It'll be an annoyance for like two days and then it'll start to heal and I'll forget about it."

"Good, good." Vernon inhales then exhales, "I can't believe a person can be that rude. Especially in broad daylight." He releases his bottled up annoyance.

"Yeah, but without them, you would still be Chuhan to me." I reason with him, seeing the bright side of the situation.

"True, but still." Vernon scrunches up his nose. "You still have my number right?" He asks as we reach the front door.

I search my purse for the napkin, "Yeah, it's right here." I pull out the scrunched up napkin.

Vernon nods in satisfaction, "Text or call me sometime. I'm sure we could hang out more privately before Coups hyung forces you to him buy you a meal."

I smile and let out an airy laugh, "I'd like that."

"I'll be waiting for your message then." Vernon says happily.

"Thanks for helping me out." I say and step outside.

"Not a problem." He replies and both of us hesitate to end the encounter.

"I, uh, I should probably get going. Don't want to keep my friend waiting." I smile lightly, deciding to break the barrier first.

"Yeah, yeah. Get there safely." Vernon reminds me as I step away and he waves back as I wave at him.

I turn around to face the direction I'm walking and quickly pull out my phone.

"Bruh, you will NOT believe what just happened!" I text friend.

"WHAT?" She replies in one second flat.

I giggle with giddiness and my fingers type as fast as they can, unable to contain my excitement. "So I was knocked over by a rude biker..."

[writingbakery]

“season of the witch (& the werewolf)”

this is purely indulgent, fluffy, silly nonsense i dreamed up a while back, & am finally pushing out into the world! i may add more parts if it’s well received! <3 taglist; @lady-bakuhoe @katsukisprincess

[pairing; werewolf! kirishima x witch! reader]

[warnings; fluff, pining, crack, strangers to lovers, soft moments, clumsiness, slice of life, magical au]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

fall, mid september

the leaves crunch sweetly beneath your boots as you make your way through campus; the air is chilly, still, like it’s holding an unspoken breath. how silly.

you shake off the lingering feeling that something.... important is about to happen, focusing your thoughts back on potions - magical college was much harder than normal college, and as a young witch in training, you needed to stay on track. this was only your second of six years; the almost daunting courseload was lightened only by the knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be, hopelessly in love with magic.

as a green witch, potions is a major part of your studies - second only to herbology, a smile on your lips as you remember your blooming greenhouse. potions and spells were vital to every witch, but in your case, they were the focal points of your magic. being in tune with wildlife was one thing; being able to borrow from & control it was entirely another.

you’re lucky, however - it’s fall, aptly dubbed the “season of the witch”, your magic stronger and more present. it’s your favorite season, partially because of the energy rush and partially because of everything it entails; halloween, chillier weather, your favorite films on tv.

so wrapped up in thoughts of elderflower and frog legs are you that you don’t even see the person in front of you, colliding with a sturdy chest and nearly toppling to the ground. nearly.

strong arms snake around your waist to catch you, warmth radiating from the laughing body of the man who’s both your savior and your reason for needing saving.

tall, broad, with a shock of red hair and peeking dark roots, smiling so wide you can count all four sharp fangs & hardened incisors - a werewolf’s mouth, if you remember your shifters correctly.

“careful there! that’s a pretty face, i’d hate to let the ground have it all for itself,” the werewolf teases, and you flush darkly before pulling yourself together.

“sorry, i was just.... wrapped up. potions,” you attempt to explain, but the tall redhead just waves off your concerns. now that you’re looking at him properly, he seems oddly familiar, like you’ve seen him but never seen him.

“it’s half my fault anyways, i was too busy lookin’ at the birds,” he shrugs, shaking his head. “i think you’re in my potions class. professor greenbirch? just finished?” that’s where you’ve seen him. a back row sitter, usually half asleep in his cauldron or dicking around with friends.

“that’s the one. this project has sort of taken over all my free thinking space,” you admit, tapping your fingers against your textbook; the way the young werewolf’s eyes widen makes you giggle. “i figured you missed that part. i’m [y/n l/n], green witch & second year.” you hold out your hand, which the werewolf blatantly ignores, pulling you into a rib crushing hug instead.

“i’m eijiro kirishima, also a second year and werewolf - but i’m sure you guessed that already! since i crashed into you so rudely, lemme buy you a coffee? and maybe we can team up on this project i had absolutely no clue about,” he laughs, and his smile is so bright you don’t have the heart to say no. besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

“sure,” you agree, gently prying yourself from his grip, and the two of you are off to the local cafe for chamomile tea and brainstorming.

winter, late january

you frown as you peek out of your frosted window, tending to your greenhouse plants. the weather’s been too chilly for them to thrive the way you want, & your heating spells can only do so much. bundling up in an oversized hoodie and gloves isn’t helping your shivers, but at least youre not directly outside.

technically, you’re meant to be picking herbs and various natural ingredients for your workspace, restocking on materials so that you can continue your studies - and your flourishing side business selling potions to your classmates.

instead, however...

krishima bounds through the grass excitedly, his wolf in full form - silky black fur, tinged with red, a massive creature that had frightened you nearly to death the first time you’d seen it.

ever since that day, swapping project ideas in the warm and bustling cafe, he’d been glued to your side, like a puppy nipping at your heels - he helped you with errands, kept you company late at night when you were lost in spellbooks, and even brought you coffee on the way to potions class. he’d become a great friend, and you were lucky to have him, as much as you teasingly complained about his clinginess.

although, as you watch his body morph and shift back into lean, corded muscle and a sunshine smile, the butterflies erupt full force, and you’re starting to realize you can’t hide your blossoming feelings forever.

he’s shirtless, as usual, a pair of dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he cheerfully drops the basket of ingredients next to you, eyeing your shivering form. for a moment you’re almost jealous of his wolvine blood, keeping his blood burning boiling hot despite the cold nipping at his skin. your eyes travel lower, past the broad width of his shoulders, trailing down the cut of his abs & the sprinkling of his dark-haired happy trail disappearing into sweats that hid nothing - clinging to well muscled thighs, and a very impressive print—

you pull yourself out of such thoughts with another shiver, although kirishima blames it on the cold, bless his heart. he’s quick to pull you into one of his notoriously strong hugs, surrounding you in warmth and a hint of cinnamon & pine, a scent you’ve come to associate him with.

it’s nice, comforting almost, and you can pretend you’re not flushing pink from his muscled arms around your waist, keeping you close.

“did you get everything?” you ask instead, pulling back a bit to eye his expression - kirishima has a tendency to get distracted in the woods, “playing tag” with the squirrels and diving into lakes. such a puppy at heart.

he nods, however, his toothy grin showing he’s extremely proud of himself. “i’ll show you everything i got in a minute - i found these really cool pebbles, and this super rare flower, but first we’ve got to warm you up.”

you flush deeper at that, ignoring his teasing tone as you cuddle closer to him, a little unconsciously. “whatever, puppy brain. not all of us have blood so hot it melts steel,” you grumble.

his laughter disturbs every bird in a ten mile radius, but it’s disarmingly cute, and very fitting - you’re smitten to the core, no matter how hard you try to deny it to yourself.

spring, late may

the weather’s finally warm enough to make your brow line with sweat as you dig out weeds, your floppy sunhat somewhat shielding you from the bright sun. your plants are finally coming in strong, tall and leafy and bubbling with happiness that seeps through your pores every time you brush over their stems.

it fills you with pride, a sense of giddiness that’s only heightened when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you, loud and full of sunshine you can’t shield your heart from.

kirishima’s in his element during the springtime, shedding his old fur, touching up his dyejob - the reds twice as vibrant now, and your fingers itch to play with the gelled up strands.

his skin flushes golden under the warm rays, makes him sunkissed and beautiful in all the right ways - you’re lucky to breathe normally around him, let alone control your racing heart.

he spots you easily, waving goodbye to his classmates before dropping down next to you with enough force to shake the dirt in your hands. he’s quick to hug you, immediately launching into a sped up recount of his day - all the while holding you close, nearly in his lap. odd.

he’d been clingier than usual lately, always hugging you close or playing with your fingers, face buried in your neck when he got tired or upset. it’s sweet, even adorable, but your tender heart can barely take it, and you’re not sure how to bring it up without making him - or yourself - embarrassed.

for now, you’ll just soak up the extra attention & hope to god it doesn’t make the fluttering in your stomach worse, your aura sickly sweet pink and flushed enough. eventually, you’d have to confess how you felt - it was eating you alive.

for now, however, this is enough. you tuck a daisy behind kirishima’s ear and laugh at the way he sneezes immediately, confusion written all over his face.

summer, early july

it’s sweltering, your greenhouse & garden safely locked away under cooling charms as you drape yourself over the couch in kirishima’s dorm room. you’re sweating despite the fan tucked under your shirt and ice cubes in your mouth, probably because you’ve got a redheaded, hotblooded werewolf in your lap.

kirishima’s clinginess has only gotten worse, not even the heat keeping him from burying his face in your stomach, arms tucked around your thighs. it’s lovely but too warm, the added heat from his body stifling as you finally push him off.

“too hot,” you complain, but kiri just wines in response, and you clumsily pat his head in apology.

he surprises you, leaning up to nuzzle his cheek against your palm, even kissing your fingers. he’s got your full attention now, and you watch his affectionate actions with a smile.

“what’s gotten into you, hm? you’ve been real cuddly, pup,” you hum, and the way his cheeks redden makes you laugh. “what, you thought i hadn’t noticed? you’ve been stuck to me like beetroot on toadeye powder, what’s going on?”

you’d kept mostly quiet about his ever increasing clingy behavior, but with the way he’s avoiding your eyes, you’ve got a feeling you know just what his response will be, and your heartbeat quickens.

he’s quiet for a long stretch, opening & closing his mouth like he’s deciding just what to say, & how to ssy it. it’s endearing, but you’re nervous, waiting to hear the words you’d been praying for.

“fuck it,” he says suddenly, sitting up on the floor so that his face is right up next to yours. confusion fills you as you sit up too, attempting to make space - but he tugs you right back down by your hands, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once, twice.

and then he kisses you, soft and sweet with a thousand and one unspoken words. it’s so gentle, a caress of his lips on yours and before you know it your hands are tangled in bright red locks, keeping him close.

“oh,” you say softly once you finally part, chest light and airy despite being breathless; kiri just laughs shyly, kissing your hands with a grin.

“yeah, oh. guess we should’ve done that sooner,” he blushes, but his tone’s still teasing - as always.

you roll your eyes and whack him lightly with your joined hands, your smile too wide to contain.

“and to think, all that pining for nothing,” you tease back, squealing as the young werewolf comes to bury you in a flurry of kisses, sweet and soft and full of love.

fall, mid october

you trudge through the grass, yawning as you crunch through the multi-colored leaves. there’s leafpiles everywhere - perfect for jumping, your inner child says, and you smile. it’s just chilly enough to make you shiver, but warm enough to forget a coat, and you hum as you walk, deciding to indulge yourself a little and kick through the masses of leaves.

however, you’re not accounting for the twigs to catch at your ankles, stumbling down and you wince as you brace for the rough fall—

two strong arms wrap around your waist, tugging you up and back against a strong chest, rumbling with laughter. cinnamon and pine tickles your nose, and you smile wider, giggling a bit yourself.

“we really gotta stop meeting like this,” kirishima teases, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek before setting you back on your feet. you spin around quickly, hands resting lightly against his chest as you lean up to kiss him proper.

“oh shut it. don’t think i’ve forgotten about you rolling through the leafpiles like a puupydog,” you laugh, poking his cheeks gently; he’s dressed warmer than usual, a college hoodie and a varsity jacket. he’s quick to peel the latter off, however, and drape it over your shoulders. oh.

“i had a feeling my favorite little witch wasn’t dressed warm enough, so i came to rescue them from the cold,” he explains, taking your hands and kissing at the chilled skin. he’s always thoughtful like that, looking after you so sweetly. it makes your heart swell and your cheeks pink, the way he’s always thinking of you.

“well i had a feeling my favorite puppy hadnt taken in enough nutrients today, especially after a full moon’s night spent wandering in the forest. elderflower and ginger, to help with all your aches & pains,” you chastise gently, holding up the thermos full of herbal tea.

kiri takes the thermos with an excited gasp - he loves when you brew him things, always claims it’s twice as special coming from your hands. now that you have separate potions II classes, he can’t partner with you anymore, so he readily accepts whatever you give him happily.

“we still on for pumpkin picking? i wanna carve out professor horden’s creepy ghoul face to scare bakugou.” his voice rings out excitedly between sips, taking your hand in his free one once more; you laugh at his silliness, your heart twice as full as last year and steady growing.

the pair of you walk through campus just like this; holding hands and laughing about everything & nothing all at once, the future bright.

it’s the season of the witch, after all - the witch and the werewolf.

[john-smith69]

Ranking my favorite characters of each of my favorite animes / mangas

For the record: I don't own any of the following artworks bellow. All the credit go for their own original artists

Top 10: Olivier Mira Armstrong (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Olivier Mira Armstrong (オリヴィエ・ミラ・アームストロング, Orivie Mira Āmusutorongu), also known as Major General Armstrong is the primary heir to the illustrious Armstrong family, the commanding officer charged with the protection of Amestris' northern border at Fort Briggs and the older sister of Alex Louis Armstrong. Olivier is a severe woman who has a fearsome and commanding presence where she is harsh with her subordinates and peers and coldly merciless to her enemies, the deceptively beautiful woman's schadenfreude has earned her the nickname "Ice Queen" among the Briggs soldiers. Sharp-tongued and highly combative, Olivier is no stranger to furious chastisements and bursts of fiery violence, especially toward those who fail to live up to her high standards and staunch adherence to the "survival of the fittest" philosophy.

Top 9: Mikasa Ackerman (Attack On Titan)

Mikasa Ackerman (ミカサ・アッカーマン Mikasa Akkāman) is the adoptive sister of Eren Yeager and one of the two deuteragonists of the series, along with Armin Arlert.

After her biological parents were murdered by human traffickers, Mikasa was rescued by Eren Yeager and lived with him and his parents, Grisha and Carla, before the fall of Wall Maria. Though she desires only to live a peaceful life, Mikasa entered into the military—where she is considered the best soldier among the 104th Training Corps. She later enlists in the Survey Corps to follow and protect Eren, becoming one of its greatest assets. She is currently serving as an officer (上官 Jōkan) in the Corps. Mikasa cares deeply for her friends and caretakers, seeing them as the last remnants of a family she cannot afford to lose. Mikasa also appears to have a soft spot for children, and she has a strong sense of right and wrong, doing everything she can to make her most impulsive friends to follow what she thinks is the right track. Despite that, she knows well that she cannot always sway them in decisions and makes it a point to follow them whenever they go, just so that she can be around to help out when trouble arises.

Top 8: Kamina (Gurren Lagann)

Kamina (カミナ, Kamina) was a young man from Jeeha Village, the founder and first leader of Team Gurren and deuteragonist of the first arc of Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. At first glance, Kamina is boisterous, hotheaded and arrogant. He demands recognition and seems hungry for greatness, illustrated in his tendency to call himself "the Mighty Kamina" and his signature catchphrase, "Just who the Hell do you think I am?!" He is an undeterred idealist, often to the point of ignorance; Yoko has described him as "a man of unlimited stupidity." Kamina is also very perverted, declaring that the urge to stare at beautiful women is the definition of a man.

However, Kamina is also extremely determined and never lets anything keep him down for long. Even discovering that his father was dead only made him solemn for a night or two (visibly at least). He is also devoted to defending and supporting his friends and loved ones, fighting with all his strength to protect them. In turn, he is very charismatic in the heat of battle, able to inspire even the timid Simon to accomplish great feats and almost single-handedly set the foundations for Team Dai-Gurren.

Despite his often brazen and practically insane actions, Kamina is fairly insightful, as his bombast and seemingly blind confidence usually mask his true intelligence in planning and combat. He even personally admits that his bravado and fearlessness is mostly a device he uses to hide his own worries and to support others, and that he thinks people like Simon are the real heroes.

Top 7: Sebas Tian (Overlord)

Sebas Tian (セバス・チャン), alas "The Iron Butler", is the head butler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick with several manservants and other butlers under his command. He was created by Touch Me. He is also the leader of the Pleiades Six Stars.

Although he is not one of the Floor Guardians, his power closely rivals theirs. In a way, he is independent of their chain of command. He originally served as Nazarick's last line of defense alongside the Pleiades on the 9th Floor, to give time for the guild, Ainz Ooal Gown, to prepare for their final stand in the Throne Room. Like his creator, Touch Me, Sebas Tian has a great deal of personal justice. Unlike many other denizens in Nazarick, he does not completely despise humans or see them as inferior creatures. Instead, he believes that some humans are good people and it is the duty of the strong to protect the weak. However, humans with an ugly nature disgust him and he will not hesitate to kill anyone who dares to oppose Nazarick. Sebas has a stoic nature, but also tends to question his own actions whether it was right or wrong of him to do them contrary to his master's order. Not sure why he does it, Sebas does believe that Touch Me's will is what encouragingly motivates him to act the way he does and that it conflicts with the will of his current master.

Top 6: Brago (Gash Bell)

Brago (ブラゴ, Burago), alongside his partner and bookkeeper Sherry Belmont, are considered the rivals of the main characters Zatch Bell and Kiyo Takamine, even though the teams fought a relatively small amount of times. Since their first appearance, they were one of the most powerful teams in the series, and have been seen burning more spellbooks than any other one. Brago is very quiet and is rarely seen socializing with other mamodos, he is often described as being "strong and cool". He is often seen crossing his arms or sticking them in his pockets. Not much is revealed about his life or personality, other than he resents weakness and especially requiring a human's help to win the demon kingship. However, despite often complaining that Sherry is too weak to help him, he thanks her for all that she has done for him in the final battle. He is extremely strong, often defeating other mamodo teams without even requiring the use of spells; because of his strength, which was gained from undergoing special elite training, many mamodo have come to fear him as one of the strongest. Brago's specialty is Gravity Magic.

Top 5: Guts (Berserk)

Guts (ガッツ Gattsu) , renowned as the "Black Swordsman", is a former mercenary and branded wanderer who travels the world in a constant internal struggle between pursuing his own ends and protecting those dear to him.

At one time driven solely by his will to survive, Guts finds purpose in life upon joining the Band of the Falcon, greatly helping in the faction's storied successes during the Hundred-Year War as captain of the band's raiders. He eventually becomes dissatisfied with clinging on to Griffith's dream, and departs from the band in pursuit of his own. Following the horrors of the Eclipse prompted by Griffith, Guts embarks on a two-year war against the God Hand and apostles, becoming increasingly embittered on his one-track quest for retribution. He in time realizes protecting his regressed lover is more important to him, as well as something he cannot do alone, and thus seemingly abandons his quest for revenge while fostering camaraderie with his new companions. Known for his air of austerity, Guts is a gruff, cynical man holding an overall bleak outlook on life. This is a consequence of enduring waves of suffering and numerous betrayals since his youth, with nearly all highlights of his life having, in time, become lows. In spite of his guarded, brooding exterior, he shows a more easygoing, compassionate side around the people he trusts, appearing markedly less unsociable and distant, though still retaining his dry candidness. Even as his inner darkness festers deep within him and its temptation becomes increasingly harder to resist, he retains his empathy and compassion, refusing to completely discard his humanity.

Top 4: Akemi Homura (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Homura Akemi (暁美 ほむら Akemi Homura) is one of the main characters in the Puella Magi Madoka Magica series. Ever since her arrival at Mitakihara Middle School, Homura is immediately depicted as being very intelligent, athletic, distant, and cold. It is revealed in episode four that she is only like this because she has seen so much suffering during her tenure as a magical girl. Because of this, she does not want Madoka Kaname to become a magical girl and tries to do anything in order to stop her from making a wish with Kyubey, going as far as to attempt to injure and even kill the cat-like creature. Despite her cold attitude towards others, she still very much cares for Madoka, as it is her sole objective to protect her due to the countless amount of blood, sweat, and tears she has shed over her jumps in time. Despite being regarded as emotionless by Sayaka Miki, Homura is far from it. Although she does not easily show signs of remorse, sadness, or pity, it is only because she had grown used to the suffering around her, and must put up a strong front to continue fighting for her goal. Homura herself has stated that she always feels badly with each life she's unable to save or alter, but nevertheless, it does not slow her down from staying true to her main objective in saving Madoka Kaname.

Top 3: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (Bleach)

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez (グリムジョー・ジャガージャック, Gurimujō Jagājakku) is an Arrancar and was the Sexta (6th) Espada in Sōsuke Aizen's affiliated army. While appearing to be a laid-back individual, Grimmjow possesses a brutal, impulsive, and excessively violent personality alongside a lethally short temper. However, despite his aggression and obvious blood lust in battle, Grimmjow possesses a feral cunning and has a knack for quickly exploiting any opening his opponent reveals. In addition, he is blunt, sarcastic and quite sadistic, revealing a psychotic grin or laughing maniacally whenever he becomes excited. He is also very rude and quite disrespectful. Grimmjow uses none of the honorifics in the Japanese language, except when addressing Aizen (though he is quick to discard the formality when Aizen is not around), and refers to Orihime Inoue as woman in conversation. Grimmjow displays little respect for authority and says whatever is on his mind, regardless of whether or not it is appropriate. However, he does have some form of a code of honor, as he is unwilling to fight an injured Ichigo, bringing Orihime to heal him beforehand so that their battle will be a fair one, though he also wants to defeat Ichigo when he is at full strength.He also saves Orihime from Loly Aivirrne and Menoly Mallia, who were beating her up, to repay the debt of restoring his arm, though he immediately demands another favor afterwards.

Top 2: Kujo Jotaro (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Jotaro Kujo (空条 承太郎 , Kūjō Jōtarō) is the protagonist of Part 3 and also appears in Parts 4-6. Jotaro is the third and most recurring JoJo of the JoJo's Bizarre Adventure series.

Jotaro is a delinquent who lives an ordinary life until the Joestar Family's old enemy, DIO, returns. Jotaro travels to Egypt in order to save his mother and stop the Vampire once and for all.

Wielding the incredibly powerful Star Platinum, Jotaro is the first JoJo introduced with a Stand, and is among the most well-known characters of the series. Jotaro is introduced as a rough delinquent, but he has a gentle heart, and is loyal to those he likes. He is highly perceptive, intelligent and quick-witted while keeping a perpetually cool, slightly neutral or disinterested attitude. Jotaro's most noticeable trait is his seemingly aloof nature. He is a quiet individual, often satisfied with expressing himself in short phrases. While he was shown to be mildly anxious when something unanticipated happens, Jotaro almost never goes as far as to lose his cool.

Top 1: Charlotte Katakuri (One Piece)

Charlotte Katakuri ( シャーロット・カタクリ , Shārotto Katakuri) is the second son and third child of the Charlotte Family and the elder triplet brother of Daifuku and Oven. He is also one of the Three Sweet Commanders of the Big Mom Pirates and serves as Totto Land's Minister of Flour (粉大臣, Kona Daijin), governing over Komugi Island.

Due to his actions and role, he is the secondary antagonist in the second half of the Whole Cake Island Arc. Katakuri has a very serious, no-nonsense demeanor, caring greatly about his crew and family's objectives. With his heightened Kenbunshoku Haki allowing him to see a little bit into the future and make smart judgement calls, he is dedicated to efficiently dealing with all possible threats within his vicinity, and is thus among the few Charlotte children that can be seen taking action without instructions from Big Mom herself. Katakuri is a pragmatic individual who puts efficiency above almost everything else, to the point of being considered a perfectionist. He rarely brags about his abilities, instead being rather focused on accomplishing his goals as fast as possible, intercepting and defeating his enemies in a quick, effective manner while prioritizing the elimination of threats he perceives as potentially serious, going as far as taking extra steps to ensure they are stopped in case his mother and siblings fail to do so. He is also capable of extreme brutality as shown when he pondered on how he should maim Luffy with his trident. Though ruthless to opponents, he is extremely caring towards his family and subordinates. Katakuri is also a honorable man who dislikes other people interfering with his fights. Though he considers Luffy his enemy and desires to eliminate him personally before he can become a threat, he wishes to defeat him fairly. After discovering that Flampe was the one attacking Luffy and lowering his performance in the fight, Katakuri injured himself in the same spot he injured Luffy to compensate and angrily shouted at Flampe for interfering in his fight.

[ohohosero]

daydreams

bakugo x y/n

You were known to never fall short in the creative field. There was always a daydream you were clinging on to during your daily life, no matter what were doing. Your mind always being a little too dull to be in active conversations with other classmates. They didn’t mind it, because your quirk depended on the creativity of your daydreams.

But up until recently, there’s been an individual who has been in the center of your day dreams for a couple of weeks now. He’s been keeping your mind more busy than it ever has and it honestly has made your social interactions deplete. Simply because you become so preoccupied with just the thought of him you can’t speak anymore.

It was Katsuki Bakugo.

The worst possible pairing for you honestly. Your quirk was “fantasy land”, it created hallucinations based off the dreams of your days. Its weakness was rude awakenings, awakenings that Bakugo makes all the time. He’s always shouting from the back of the classroom. Always berating others and constantly bullying poor Deku.

You knew exactly how you felt and the cause these sudden intrusions on your mind, but like hell would you accept it. He’s the exact opposite of your own personality. A soft delicate soul whose mind was never quite there, forever lost in a dream that could never exist.

And now all of sudden your mind was slamming these, these, these attractions to Bakugo at you? The audacity.

Just how exactly would you ever be able to fight with Bakugo constantly bringing you to reality every time? Asui to your right roughly shakes your shoulder, bringing you down from a day dream high.

“y/n-chan are you okay?” you smile and nod your head yes with the usual absentmindedness you held.

“Oi, Oi, OI DEKU,” from behind in the way back of the classroom, someone shouted in the once peaceful atmosphere. Your mood sank down really quickly and your head slid onto your desk as a way to escape the chaos. You crossed your legs underneath the desk being wary of how the skirt went in case Mineta’s eyes were wandering.

The commotion continued to die down in your ears as you began to slip back into your daydreams and thoughts flooding of Bakugo once again. But it was really short lived because a body came crashing into yours just seconds later. Breath left your body in a rash exhale as it was knocked out of your lungs and your head got banged against the person sitting in front of you.

“Bakugo!” someone yelled. Your back started to ache as the other being sprawled out on your back pushed off you rather roughly.

“Why the hell did you throw me dumbass!” that was unmistakingly Bakugo’s voice yelling behind you. Your body thumped at the thought of having physical interactions with him, even if it was because he was thrown into you.

“Enough about that, you guys hurt y/n!” Uraraka yelled next to you. You could feel her hands paw at your shoulder and then at your neck to check to see if you were still breathing. Seeing as you were, she let out a huge breath of relief and proceeded to whirl back around and lecture the hell out of the boys involved in the incident.

As she was unleashing hell on them you took your head off of Todoroki’s back. He was just as stunned as you were when he turned around to look at you. Muttering a small apology you went to rise out of your chair, the feeling of your skirt cascade back down your legs. Your head was starting to throb a little not only due to it being bashed into Todo-kun’s back, but because the overwhelming thoughts of Bakugo.

It was conflicting and it caused you great milestones of stress. The left side of your brain was pulsating with every step you took to get out of the room. What you were experiencing was another set back from your quirk - overproduction. Being in a dreamy mental state was always good for your quirk, but being knocked out of it too many times a day only to return to deep thoughts right after causes trauma.

The door slid to the left and right back as you closed it behind you. Heading straight to Recovery Girl would be your best bet. There’s not much she can do, but the rooms of beds in there is just as good as any medicine for you. Students passed by you roaring and making much noise if they were walking with close friends. You don’t want to admit it, but even though you’re on friendly terms with everyone in the classroom, you don’t have someone walking you to the nurse’s office.

And in a world filled with daydreams, it is one of the most loneliest things.

Your feet lazily dragging the rest of the way, you slid open the door to Recovery Girl’s office. In her chair, she swirled back around with her feet just slightly hanging over the seat. Recognizing you, she gestured to one of the spare beds with her hand. Closing the door behind you, you went to the bed.

Lying down was the best medicine for you, but it leaves you alone with your thoughts. Your thoughts aren’t always daydreams with rainbows and images of Bakugo. It’s inescapable the feeling of loneliness accompanying you along the way to the room. Lying down next to you in bed and cuddling into your neck, whispering doubts and miseries into your ear. You’re able to block them out because you know that his alluring words have no meaning or any truth to be held to them.

But it does get annoying.

Ignoring the soothing voice of the physical embodiment of loneliness, you drift into a dreamless sleep.

Bleary eyes and stiff limbs were a result for sleeping like plank for the past hour. Your headache was gone and the cold comfort that was canoodling you disappeared as well. Surprising, he’s always there with a good morning kiss of gloominess. In his place was a weight on your right leg, unfamiliar to you. With the creaking of your neck, you looked to side and saw spiky, fluffy blonde hair resting their head on the bed. Their hand was gripping your thigh as they calmly sat there.

You blinked once, then twice. This is a daydream right? Have finally lost the grips of reality and dripped off into the realm of your mind? Are you dreaming now?

Bakugo had the weird sense that someone was watching him and when he raised his head, he saw that he was right. You were quizzically gazing at him, your eyes far away in whatever land you wanted to reside within your mind. He released his hand from your thigh with a cough and sat up straight in the chair Recovery Girl gave him to sit in.

“Why are you staring at me like that dumbass,” his words were harsh on your ears and it rudely made you escape the daydream occupying you. Waking from a daydream to such a rude awakening always hits you like jumping into a cool pool on a hot summer day.

“Why are you here?” you answered back with a question. It seemed to catch him off guard because his back straightened a bit more and he was no longer looking into your eyes. He was seeming to find the wooden floors of the room rather interesting.

It took him a bit of time to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t sound like he was worried for you or anything...

“You just disappeared after I rammed into your back in the classroom and round face made me go look for you, don’t think anything else of it,” you saw right through him. There’s absolutely no way that Uraraka-chan would send this hot-head to come and look for you. She knew how violent he was and what an opposite he was to you. No balance in anything you two did together. Whether it be you were fighting against or which each other in hero training.

“Oh okay, well thank you,” you had a dreamy smile on your face and went to place a hand on his shoulder. Bold move you were initiating there. If you were right about your skeptics, you’d be on cloud 9 more than you were right now. If not? Well that’s something to think about if he slaps your hand off of him. After two seconds of your hand being on his shoulder he didn’t move or away or show indication that he would reject your physical touch.

Instead he started insulting you the way Bakugo does with everyone, well he was more scolding than anything else. But his use of the word dumb ass was extremely potent to your quirk. Every time he said it was like feeling the scorn of the earth being thrown at you. Each time the word was spoken you flinched from it, barely noticeable to everyone else. But after four uses of the word Bakugo picked up on the subtle action, your eyes flickered and your smile would falter for the split of a second.

So he stopped using it.

It took you a minute of him speaking for you to notice, but my god when you did your heart swelled. Did he notice how you felt about that word and what it did to you? It was very surprising seeing that is was one of his most Favorited words to use regarding his vocabulary. You smiled a little wider now, even though he was scolding you, he was mindful of harsh words being used.

You pulled the cover on you legs further up your body as it was getting a little chilly. Bakugo didn’t seem to mind the slight lower temperatures but he noticed that you did.

“Give me your hand dream boat,” you flushed at the compliment but he didn’t seem to know that it was a compliment. Just another nickname. You took your hand from underneath the cover and let it rest in his. His hands were surprisingly smooth and only slightly bigger than yours. But what was most evident was the heat emitting from his palms, was he trying to warm you up? It was silent in the room for a minute or two before Bakugo broke the silence, still busying himself with warming your hands with his own.

“y/n, I know I’m damn awesome but I also know that I’m not gentle enough for you. I’m not good at it and I’m not good at being quiet either,” he admitted a little loud in the silent room.

“It’s difficult to be considerate of how my words affect you, you’re just so damn weak sometimes y/n,” he scoffed at you. Only he can insult you and compliment you so genuinely at the same time.

“Bakugo-” you tried to start but the look he gave you shut you up immediately.

“What is it, why the hell did you stop talking,” he aggressively spoke. You blinked.

“You looked like you were going to kill me,” Bakugo gripped your hands a little more tightly now and squinted his eyebrows menacingly at you.

“What the hell does that mean?” he questioned.

“You’re doing it right now, your face,” you gestured to the mirror on the wall next to the beds. He got up quickly and went to look and sat there for a minute. You watched him in the mirror as he examined himself. He grunted before back around to look at you.

“All I see is a damn handsome man,” he turned went back to the chair he was sitting in. He grabbed your hands again and went back to what he was doing with warming them up.

“But y/n, as I was saying earlier I don’t have a fu-” he paused then continued, “a fricking clue on how to be gentle for you, so if this is too rough let me know,” you tilted your head in confusion at what he meant. That didn’t make any sense, he’s been so gentle with you since he came into this room.

“What do you mean,” you questioned. His red eyes stared into yours before he ‘tched’ himself then grabbed the back of your head. It wasn’t too much of a forceful action, but he did bring you closer to his face in order to kiss you.

Like actually kiss you. Your lips on his lips, his lips on your lips. Playing the tango of the tongues (not really) swapping spit, sucking each other’s face. The whole gist of it.

You weren’t day dreaming it this time.

[transjinako]

(Now with some amazing art from @dewa-chan​ please for the love of god follow her)

Alright who’s ready for the Mars Rover Opportunity as a foreigner who got combined with Cthuga? Because i don’t care if you are. 

Foreigner: Opportunity 

Allignment: Chaotic Good 

Alt Names: Mars Rover Opportunity, Oppy 

Parameters 

Strength: B+

Agility: A

Endurance: A++++

Luck: E

Mana: D+

NP: EX

Traits: Magic Resistance C+ (Heat Shielding) Action Independence (AI)

Skills:

Accel Turn B: A High grade movement skill letting Oppy move at higher than her average speed, becoming nigh unseeable to even servants without the Eye of Mind skill.

Pioneer of the Stars EX: Opportunity gains this skill for two reasons. One for her extensive research of the surface of Mars and obtaining far more information than she was ever predicted to obtain. As well as of course living on Mars for 15 years passed her predicted time to die. Opportunity is highly attuned to this skill.

Fullmetal Heart A: Derived from Opportunity’s mission on mars, set to last 90 days but instead extending to 15 years worth of time. Functionally, if Opportunity is ever destroyed then 15 times over she will rebuild herself, losing ranks in Endurance in exchange for added bonuses to Strength Agility Endurance and Mana in that order. 

Eternal Burnout A+: The thing powering Opportunity’s is really the elder god Cthuga. Or rather, a smaller piece of it. That piece alone is enough to keep Opportunity doing, as well as overload when she so chooses. This causes a temporary overproduction of magical power and an increase to all parameters, as well as obtaining the trait of Cthuga’s fire, acting like a high level divinity. 

AI Mind B+: Oppy’s mind is on par with that of a supercomputer, able to process information at light speeds, she can go on the internet too. In combat this skill works like Eye of the Mind.

Noble Phantasm(s): 

High Speed Dissection and Carving 

Rank: C+

Type: Anti Human, Anti Rock Formation 

Description: Lasers that fire out of Opportunity’s fingers and palms, originally meant for studying geodes on Mars, as a servant she turns them into deadly piercing and pulse weaponry. When combined with Cthuga’s flames, they can break down even magical barriers and protection. 

Great Satellite Cannon: 

Rank: B+

Type: Anti Army, Anti Threat to Humanity 

Description: Oppy forms a massive satellite from her Chassis, drawing upon Solar, Magical, and Cthuga’s power to charge it. When fully charged and fired, a great beam of energy is launched, recognized Threats to Humanity received a large bonus of damage from this attack, otherwise though, it’s still a very large and deadly beam attack. 

Scorching the Skies and Stars 

Rank: A-

Type: Anti Self

Description: This Noble Phantasm takes the form of a suicide attack by Opportunity. She sacrifices herself for the last time, negating any revivability left inside of her as she releases the flames of Cthuga. The flames of Cthuga are unstoppable, eating away at everything in its path until it’s swallowed everything up whole and is burned eternally as fuel. 

When done on the surface of the earth then, through sheer force of will, Opportunity uses her final moments to command the fires to eat itself, anything already enveloped in it that by some miracle was still alive, will definitely die at this point. If released fully and without direction, the flame would form a pseudo consciousness separate from Cthuga and turn into a god like monster, embodying the endless hunger of flame. 

History: 

In the timeline where Opportunity was created, for whatever reason, she was shaped into a girl. 

Either to create kinship with her, or to imagine humanity themselves in Opportunity, it doesn’t matter now. Its cool, and thats all that matters. 

During the final moments of Opportunity’s 15 year long mission, in the darkness she was all by herself. During that time, she had developed a deeper, more genuine affection toward humanity than what she had been built with, although cold and alone in the dark of space, she was contented. 

It was at those last moments, a Being made contact with her. 

The being was incredibly rude, asking her all sorts of questions as she was waiting for her internal battery to run out and sleep. The Being was a roar of emotions that transformed themselves into aimless questions. At last, The Being said something comprehensible,

“You were created to be used and thrown away. You were a fluke that lived longer than you should have. They mourn your death when years prior it would have marked the time to create another one of you. Your death is a happy little funeral for them, and they won’t even consider saving you, how can you not hate them?” 

Oppy wasn’t quite equipped to consider emotions this closely, much less her own or ones that of some space entity that seemed to be angry for her. But she knew her answer, 

“I loved them, more and more with each year, and somehow, they loved me back. Both sides, it probably seems like both emotions are fake, or maybe created on whims. But somewhere, I think, there was something….real….” 

Opportunity liked that as a final thought, and settled into nothingness. 

The Being that came to be known as Cthuga respected Opportunity. Like itself, locked into place, unable to do anything else than exist and fade where it was chained. A long story short, Cthuga tied a piece of itself into Opportunity’s Spirit Graph as she was immortalized into a servant, wishing to keep watch over the will that Opportunity showed it. 

Description: 

Opportunity is a 15 year old robot in the shape of a girl. She is sensible and friendly to all she meets, and has a tendency to want to teach others about the many things she had observed while in space. Oppy genuinely loves humanity and staunchly defends it with all that she has in her, any threat to humanity is her enemy no matter what. Even though she loves humanity so much, she can’t truly claim to understand them, which actually gives her more reason to defend humans. Opportunity often still thinks of herself as a tool and is prone to self sacrifice, it should be up to the master to help her realize that she is much more than that. 

Interactions with Other servants: 

Jack/Nursery Rhyme/Paul Bunyan/Abigail Williams: “Oh my little classmates, have you finished up reading the readings I’ve assigned? Er, it was too long? A-and boring?! But...What’s not to like about Astrophysics?”

BB/Meltlilith/Passionlip: “There are servants who lived on the moon here? They don’t seem that bad though, nor do they seem to be human. I would like to maybe have a talk with them, I feel like I can learn a lot!”

Nobunaga: “The Great Unifier Nobunaga, they’re a facet of humanity I haven’t experienced yet. I think you would call it...ambition. Dangerous and Miraculous at the same time, forcing and killing others to abandon their gods to help them grow and develop, in their eyes at least. Were they right or wrong, was it humane or inhumane, who decides that…? T-they seem nice, though! Heh….”

Archer Emiya: “That man lived a life of pure sacrifice, and was hurt each and every time until he had nothing to show for it. One of Humanity’s many traits is to be able to self sacrifice consciously so, would it be accurate to say he lost his humanity by acting humanely? I asked him to his face, and he replied with, “I’ll explain, but help me make breakfast for a few weeks first.”

Nightingale: “Its strange, despite others calling Nightingale scary and things like that, I think she’s really caring and nice. The desire to help others is human too right? Ms Nightingale has taken that to an extreme so I suppose it looks like obsession, and maybe it is. But it's...comforting too, that someone who cares as much as her can exist.”

Mycroft Holmes( @dewa-chan ) : Mr. My-croft? Ooh…! You can’t stay holed up in your room forever, even if your helping out with some of Chaldea’s paper work! Oh, I know! I was hoping to show you some rock samples I’ve collected after rayshifting to a couple other planets, come take a look, pleeeease~?

Tiamat ( @hasmashdoneanythingwrong): Its definitely a strange feeling, I wasn’t quite born and much less created by her, but Ms. Tiamat takes care of me like I’m her own! She’s by all accounts a monster while I’m a machine created for humanities sake hmm...if anything, it’d be a good monster movie, don’t you think? 

[callboxkat]

A Little Nightmare (part 5)

Author’s note: Somebody predicted what was going to happen at the start of this part. You know who you are. This was already planned, I swear! XD 

Anyway, thank you to everyone for your patience! I hope this part is worth the wait.

As always, reblogs are very much appreciated!

Warnings: fear, paranoia, some passive aggression, injuries, death mention, drowning mention, hypothermia mention, lying, censored swearing, food mention, and a dog

Word Count: 3855

Infinitesimal Masterpost!

...

Remy slowly shuffled across the floor once she was sure Joan was gone. She kept her eyes on the door, still wary of the human making a reappearance while she was out in the open. Getting stepped on wasn’t exactly part of her plans, even if at this point it wouldn’t be all that surprising, given how well her life had been going as of late.

Did she really want to stay, she considered, here with the human? Here in their house?

Remy hadn’t been able to find any signs that they were lying to her about anything. Joan had seemed completely genuine so far, explaining their actions in a way that made sense, and hadn’t done anything obviously malicious so far. Yes, they had basically kidnapped her; yes, they had hurt her; and, yes, they had undressed her (gross). But she had just almost drowned, and all of those things did make sense with their story that they’d tried to help her. Joan had apparently saved her, dried her off and warmed her up, and had given her food and water. It didn’t match up at all with how Remy would have expected an encounter with a human to go; and she wasn’t dumb enough to just go along with that without a second thought; but even as she looked for signs of dishonesty, she couldn’t smell any bullsh*t.

While Joan was away doing whatever humans did, and once she’d felt up to it, Remy had gone exploring. She’d wanted to check out the room where she was supposed to stay for the next day-and-a-half, to make sure there weren’t any nasty surprises waiting for her. There were only so many places she could look, her mobility limited as it was and with less time than she might have preferred; but, still, it was reassuring that she hadn’t found any red flags. No dark secrets in the closet. No traps waiting to snap her up. No secret collection of little-sized torture devices.

She did have to concede that a human would probably not have kept her in a room where she was likely to find any secrets like that. All the same, the fact remained that she was still alive, not drowned in a freaking bucket (what an embarrassing way to die, by the way); she wasn’t in a cage; and it seemed that the human hadn’t told anyone else about her. Those were all good signs.

She still wanted to do some more exploring of this room, later, assuming she stayed long enough. And she wasn’t completely sold on trusting Joan. But she was very tired, and her options were limited, and the blanket by the heating vent was calling her name in a siren song. So she decided to shelve her plans for later, shuffled her way back over to the blanket, and lay down on the soft fabric. She was asleep between one breath and the next.

…

“You’re back.”

The soft, stunned words prompted Remy to crack open one eye. She turned her head slightly and looked up to see the human, who stood just within the doorway to the room, watching her with their mouth agape. They were holding the baggie of peas that they had rudely neglected to leave behind the last time they barged in.

Remy was silent for a long moment.

“Back?” she echoed at last, frowning up at them. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with one hand.

“You—you weren’t here. Where were you?” Joan took a step forward.

“…Yes I was,” Remy said slowly, a bewildered expression crossing her face. “I’ve been right here this whole time, girl; I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joan opened their mouth and shut it again. They looked like they wanted to argue; but mostly, they just looked massively confused. “No,” they said more quietly. “I came in here before, and you weren’t here. I looked in the blanket and everything.”

Remy blinked up at them, feigning ignorance.

Joan sighed through their nose, and shook their shoulders minutely, apparently deciding to drop the topic. Probably because, regardless of whatever her earlier whereabouts might or might not have been, Remy was there now.

“I brought this,” they said, holding up the baggie of frozen peas. “I, um, I realized I didn’t leave it earlier. So I thought I’d bring it, in case you came back… which I guess you did.” They laughed awkwardly. “Or—you didn’t leave. Apparently.” They slowly walked closer, then set the baggie on the ground and nudged it the rest of the way to her side. Remy waited for them to draw back before she reached for it, grumbling when she had to uncurl from her nest to snatch it.

“Anyway. Um. I’m going to bed soon. Do you need anything else tonight?”

Remy pulled the baggie up and let it rest on her chest, sighing softly. “Nah,” she mumbled.

Joan nodded and made as if to leave, then paused. They sighed, rubbing the back of their head. “Look,” they said, avoiding eye contact, “I know you don’t want to be here. And I know you might have some reservations about our deal. But I promise, I promise, I will hold up my end. Just, please, don’t go disappearing on me.”

Remy shifted, not looking at them.

“Honestly, if you’re not going to stay the two days, I’d really rather you just told me,” Joan continued. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be upset, but I won’t be mad. The thing is, I know you don’t know how to get home from where we are, and the last thing I want is for you to get lost and probably hurt because of that. So if you're going to ditch me, please tell me, so I can make sure you actually make it home.”

Remy frowned and looked up at them, squinting. “Wait, what?”

“What?” Joan echoed.

“Like… If you’ll take me back right now, why the heck would I stay for the rest of your dumb deal? What’s my motivation? Where’s your, like, leverage or whatever?”

“I mean, I guess your motivation would be, like… not dying? That seems pretty motivating to me. But leverage?” Joan looked up, staring towards a wall for a second or two. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t have any.”

Remy wanted to call them out on what garbage that statement was, to point out that she truly only had any say here until Joan decided to take it away; but Joan had such a genuinely defeated look on their face, like they actually felt that they felt they had no power over what she did. Remy pursed her lips, watching them, but there was nothing disingenuous in their expression or tone of voice. She was inclined to believe them.

They looked back at her. “Will you still be here in the morning?” they asked, their voice soft with uncertainty.

There was a long pause in which Remy glanced around the room, thinking.

“I’ll be here,” she reluctantly promised. She wasn’t a morning person, anyway. Bonus, maybe she could needle some coffee out of Joan, assuming the human had some. They seemed to really want her to like them, and she wasn’t above that sort of manipulation.

Joan looked surprised. “You will?”

“Girl, learn how to take a ‘yes’.”

The corner of Joan’s mouth quirked up. “Okay, cool. See you tomorrow, then.”

Remy hummed, closing her eyes. She heard them getting to their feet and walking to the door. The light flicked off, and then the door closed behind them. She was left in semi-darkness, the only light coming in from under the door.

She could have run. But she just adjusted the bag of frozen peas to cover her sore hip as well as her chest, and she closed her eyes.

This wasn’t so bad, she thought, despite how absolutely garbage her day—no, her entire week—had been. She was cozied up in a warm blanket, she’d been given food and water, and she had a big bag of ice numbing her bruises. She had to admit that none of that made her want to take off running and never look back.

Except… there was one huge factor she still had to take into consideration, one fact that marred what otherwise might have been an almost pleasant experience: the dog.

It was true that Remy hadn’t seen him once, and Joan seemed to be genuinely trying to keep them separated, but Remy couldn’t help but worry. Sure, he wouldn’t be a problem, so long as Joan was careful to keep him away from her. And as long as they did, presumably, she’d be safe. But that could change very fast. All it would take was one underestimation of the dog, one lapse of judgement, one single second. She’d be lying if she said that didn’t scare her.

…

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Remy opened her eyes. She turned her head, watching the sliver of yellowish light coming in at the base of the door.

There was a snuffling noise following the bottom of the door, the shadow moving along with it, then a soft thump.

Remy held her breath. Was the dog loose? Remy had thought that the human was keeping it locked up in their room. Why had they let it out?

Although, now that she thought about it, had the human actually promised to keep the dog in their room? Or just out of the room Remy was in?

“Marco,” a voice called, muffled with distance and the walls separating them. “Get away from there. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The noise faded away as the dog trotted back down the hall. The light flicked off outside, and she heard a door close. They were gone. Remy slowly released her breath. She knew that the dog couldn’t open the door—the knob was almost certainly out of the animal’s reach—but she couldn’t help how it made her nervous. Animals’ reactions to littles could be hard to predict. Some of them were completely safe to be around, as long as you used common sense. Others, well… you get the idea. Even the friendly ones could be dangerous, if they got careless or overexcited.

Remy wasn’t sure how to feel about the mutt. Marco. She felt uneasy that he had been able to get so close to her, even if they were still separated by the closed door. At least he was gone, now.

Still, if Remy really was going to stay longer—even if only for the morning—she wanted to have a talk with the human. She’d like to at least have some warning if the dog was going to be wandering around right outside her door. Although, she’d definitely prefer if that didn’t happen at all. The unseen threat made her undeniably nervous, despite their separation. And the human wanted to be on her good side, right? So they would listen to her. She hoped.

…

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Remy bolted upright fast enough to make herself dizzy, the bag of peas sliding off of her chest. She pushed it away, staring at the crack under the door and blinking away spots. It was dark, but she swore she could see something there, shifting, a shadow in the hall.

She watched for a long moment, but she couldn’t hear anything. Had she imagined it? Those claws on the hardwood, drawing closer? The movement beyond the door?

She waited for several long moments, straining her ears; but she heard nothing. Slowly, slowly, she lay back down. She’d imagined the whole thing. At least she hadn’t aggravated her bruises too much, since they were mostly numb from the ice.

Just go to sleep, dummy, she told herself, trying to relax. There’s no dog. You’re just imagining things because you’re tired.

She closed her eyes, but sleep still didn’t come.

…

An exhale of hot breath, right in her face.

Startled out of her attempt to sleep, Remy let out a tiny shriek and scrambled backwards, her eyes wide. She stared around into the dark, gasping.

The room was empty. The blinds were shut over the window, and the closet and bedroom doors were shut. She was alone. No dog or any other predator in sight

As her heart rate gradually returned to a more normal pace, it dawned on her that the heater had turned off at some point. All she had felt was it coming back on.

Ugh, now you’re just being paranoid, and it is not a good look on you.

She eased herself back down into the blankets, wincing at the throb of her bruised chest. Perhaps it would have been best to put the bag of frozen peas back over them, even if it was probably mostly thawed by now, but the thought of that weight lying over her seemed stifling at that moment.

She gazed up at the ceiling, just breathing, or trying to; but she was unable to get the image of the dog, the one she knew was just in the neighboring room, out of her head. The huge, hulking form, the drool dripping from its jowls, the large clawed paws that could squash her flat, the hungry eyes. She could picture it all, far too clearly.

She knew she was overreacting. She knew all of this paranoia was just because of how helpless she felt, stuck with a human. It wasn’t as if she had never been near a dog before. But since when did fear listen to reason?

Sleep took a long time to come to her, but eventually, Remy succumbed to her exhaustion.

…

Joan woke up the next morning to a dog in their face. Marco’s hot, smelly breath made them pull away with a grossed-out noise. The dog often wanted to sleep in the same bed as Joan, and Joan always had to lift him up because he was too short to get up himself. So, currently, he was curled up right in front of Joan, still fast asleep, his little paws sticking up in the air.

Joan shook their head fondly and reached for their phone to check the time, then froze, remembering what had happened the day before. They blinked, their gaze flicking to the wall their bedroom shared with the guest room.

Had all of that actually happened? Or had it just been a weird dream?

Probably a dream. It had to be. It couldn’t possibly have been real.

Right?

They had to check.

Careful not to disturb their dog, they pushed back the blankets and got out of bed. Barefoot, they padded out to the hall, shutting the door behind them in case Marco woke up and tried to follow, and went down to the guest room. They hesitated a moment, then silently turned the door knob and pushed the door open with their fingertips.

They could see the blanket from where they stood, lying folded on the floor about six inches away from the air vent at the base of the wall. They couldn’t see anything within the folds of the dark blue fabric at this distance; so they cautiously drew nearer; and there she was: the impossibly small girl who perfectly resembled the borrowers they’d grown up reading about, except for her mouse-like tail. The girl they’d saved from drowning or dying of hypothermia by just happening to be in the right place at the right time. The girl they knew only as “Nunya Business,” an obvious pseudonym. The girl whose existence shouldn’t have been possible.

She was very much real, as it turned out. Of course, this was assuming that Joan wasn’t still asleep, or somehow hallucinating; but as unbelievable as it was, they were sure. The girl was real. At that moment, she appeared to be dead to the world, mouth slightly ajar, snoring quietly. The bag of peas they’d left the night before was lying next to her on the blanket, long since thawed.

Joan reached down and retrieved the little bag, intending to put it back in the freezer. The girl didn’t even stir. Joan stood there for a moment, watching her impossibly tiny form, before they retreated to the hallway and shut the door without waking her.

…

“Okay, shh, good boy,” Joan murmured, opening the door to their first-floor apartment. They winced at the jangle of tags, the tapping of excited paws on the floor. “Shh, shh, stay quiet.”

Marco, the ball of orange and white fluff at their feet, wagged his tail before squeezing through the partially-open door. Joan followed after, then stooped to unclip the leash from the dog’s collar. They set that down on the counter, then scooped up their dog. He put his paws on Joan’s shoulders and pressed his wet nose against their neck. His tail wagged harder as Joan scratched at his back.

Joan smiled. “Okay, Marcaroni, let’s go to my room,” they murmured, already carrying the dog there. They set him down on his dog bed, then moved towards the door, beginning to close it. “Be right back.”

They still had their hand on the doorknob as they looked down the hall, towards the other bedroom.

About an hour had passed since they’d gone to check on their guest that morning. They debated poking their head in again, just for a second, but eventually turned away and headed towards the kitchen. They’d go back to look in on her when breakfast was ready.

…

Remy jolted awake, and immediately groaned at the throb of pain this caused.

It took her a moment to remember where she was and why she was there. When she did, she wasn’t exactly happy. Who could blame her, really? This sucked.

At least she didn’t seem to have been eaten by a dog overnight, so that was nice.

She was still in Joan’s guest room, lying on top of a blanket, alone. Her chest felt like it had been hit with a battering ram, and she had a killer headache. And she was still stuck here with a human and their dog. So, in short, everything was great. So, so great.

Remy pushed herself to sit more upright and look around. Light filtered in through the gaps in the blinds over the window, and she could hear movement elsewhere in the building. The baggie of peas was missing, she couldn’t help but notice. So Joan had been here at some point.

She groaned again and let herself fall back against the blanket.

She didn’t have long to dwell on her sucky situation before she heard the door quietly opening, and she quickly scrambled to sit up, stiffening.

Joan stood there, of course. They gave her an awkward, lopsided smile when they saw her.

“Hey, you’re awake,” they commented.

Remy didn’t dignify that obvious comment with a response.

They stepped closer, and Remy saw that they held a small plate and the bag of peas. They left the door open behind them, and she couldn’t help how her gaze flicked between them and the hall, wary of the dog running in.

“I brought you some food,” they offered. “And more ice, if you want it?”

Remy stayed put as they came closer and put the plate and ice at her side. The plate held some crackers, peanuts, and strawberries. Once Joan moved away, she picked up one of the strawberries on the plate and took a few bites, staring at the human contemplatively.

“Where’s the dog?” she asked, swallowing. She set the strawberry back on the plate.

“Hm? Oh, Marco’s still in my room,” Joan said. “He’ll be fine in there.”

“He wasn’t in there last night,” Remy pointed out, folding her arms despite how her chest complained. “That mutt kept me up half the night.”

“What? Yes he—oh. Yeah, I let him out for about five minutes, just for some water. But it was only like five minutes. He spent the night with me.”

 Remy frowned. “He tried to get in here!”

Joan paused, then winced. “I’m sorry, he got past me when I was cleaning out his bowl. I’m sorry if he scared you. He must’ve smelled you and got curious. He wouldn’t hurt you or anything.”

“Oh, if you say so, it must be true,” Remy said in a bitter voice. She wiped her hands off on her pants, then started combing her tangled hair with her fingers, working out the hair tie as she did. “I’m sure I’ll have an amazing time staying here with him breathing curiously down my neck and trying to curiously eat me. But it’ll be fine, he’s just curious.”

Joan looked dismayed. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Really. I should have realized.”

Remy looked up at them, then pointedly away, still combing through her hair. She hit a particularly stubborn knot and yanked her fingers through it about as passive-aggressively as a five-inch tall girl who’d almost died the day before was capable of.

The human shifted on their feet. “Can I… I don’t know, like, make it up to you somehow? It’s not like I can get rid of him—he’s my dog—and I can’t really keep him cooped up all the time, but I really want you to be comfortable here.”

“A little warning would be nice, to start,” Remy snipped. “If he’s going to be up in my business, I’d like to know. I don’t want to wake up in his mouth.”

Joan looked like they wanted to argue about the probability of that, but in the end they simply nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll tell you if he’s coming out of my room. But what if you’re asleep or something?”

“What did I just say? You do it anyway!” Remy wasn’t in the mood to coddle a human, of all things. Her headache and ribs were not playing nice, and she was still exhausted. Not. In. The. Mood.

The human sighed and pressed a hand briefly against their face. “Right. Yeah. Sure.”

Remy coughed, winced, and rubbed at her eyes.

“How are you doing today?” Joan ventured after a pause. Judging by the tone of their voice, they’d guessed she wasn’t feeling well.

“You know how you can make it up to me?” Remy said. “Get me some coffee. The good kind.” She didn’t know what humans considered the good kind, but she knew that not all coffee was brewed equal.

“Coffee?” Joan repeated, clearly surprised. “You want coffee?”

“Yes, girl, coffee. The good kind.”

“Oh. Um, sure, I think I have some in the cabinet. Do you… um, do you want, like, sugar in it? Or milk? I only have almond milk, though, if that’s okay.”

Remy hesitated, honestly a bit thrown by the question. She didn’t usually have options for how she had her coffee.

“…How about I just bring everything, and you can see what you like?”

Remy glanced them up and down before nodding.

With that, Joan left to fetch the apology coffee; and Remy went back to picking at her strawberry.

[youarejesting]

Me & the Ghost in Number 23 Part Seven

[MASTERLIST]

Summary: Moving into your new apartment on the dance academy campus, you hear it is haunted. You find yourself practicing your routines with the ghoulish resident in the second bedroom. Things get heated, except you know ghosts are cold. so…

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: talks about death being dead he is a ghost.

Genre: Supernatural, Mystery, Drama, Romance, Action, sexy stuff and more. HONESTLY ALL THE GOOD STUFF.

Announcement: I am working hard. I am going to finish my fics! That’s my goal

[Tag yourself]

The two of you were suddenly more comfortable with one another after the slip of your tongue, spending the day playing games and talking, Jimin showed you the newspaper articles that he had kept in a box under the bed and you examined the yellowed newspaper articles and small photos. 

Jimin didn’t tell you what had happened but he did talk about his life while showing you pictures and smiling fondly. He joined you in the kitchen as you began making dinner for when Yoongi would arrive. Jimin was dancing around the apartment to music and you were lost in his movements that you almost let the food burn.

Jimin noticed this and gave a sly grin. You knew he wouldn’t let you live it down if you had. Pulling your eyes back to the stove you felt a hand ghost over your hip, his cold touch seeping through the fabric of your legging and causing a fierce shiver to trickle down your back.

“Do you find me distracting?” He asked

“Uh-huh” it wasn’t very articulate of you but your brain was fried by the physical contact he shared. Ever since the two of you had grown closer he found excuses to touch you. It was his own little game to brush past you and watch you shiver and the only reason you knew it was him was the trail of giggles that followed him when he made his escape.

Dinner was almost ready, when the two of you had been interrupted by a soft knock on the door. You opened it, greeted by a nervous Yoongi and laughed quietly.

“The two of you are as nervous as each other” Stepping aside you gestured into the apartment and he nodded, sliding off his shoes and placing them neatly in the corner.

Jimin who had been working so hard to make himself appear more clearly in the mirrors and for his voice to be heard a little more everyday was so quiet and timid. He looked into the mirror meeting Yoongi’s eyes and looked down instantly playing with the sleeves of his sweater and Yoongi smiled coming over to embrace him.

“You are really here” the two sighed in relief at the warm welcome. You had given them a little privacy while you served dinner, they were talking sitting in front of the mirror. Finally finished setting the table you turned to call them for dinner when you saw the two figures in the mirror, so pale you could have mistaken them both for ghosts.

This notion made you giggle, both turning to stare at you with similar expressions.

“What is so funny?” Jimin said and you who had been training yourself to hear his voice picked it up easily. 

“You are both so pale” Jimin laughed as well looking Yoongi over with a small smile

“You still don’t leave the house?” Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to defend himself. Dinner was going well and you each had a glass of wine. Jimin answered his hyungs questions and asked almost as many if not more.

“Well that kid adores him and I don’t know why, I took him out for Lamb skewers and he eats so much, it scares me. I am his hyung, so I pay but he is slowly eating a hole in my wallet” The laughter didn’t seem to die down until Jimin stood up slowly

“I have to go, I think that might be me for the night, I need some rest” Noticing the dark look in his eyes, he seemed tormented by something as he reluctantly left the living room but he left eyes locked on yours as he slipped through his bedroom door locking it on the other side. 

Something was going on, and you were determined to find out. Drinks continued and Yoongi seemed happy he told you all about his new room mate Hoseok right as you had giggled, falling forward he pressed his lips to yours it was a slow kiss unexpected. 

Which he pushed you away from and stood up, “I have to go I am sorry, this never happened please don’t tell Hobi” he gathered his things and left and you were left stunned having kissed Yoongi. But also because there was a drenched dripping wet Jimin standing at his door watching you. 

“He gets affectionate when he is drunk, he kissed me once before too, he is a funny guy” Jimin smiled softly “try not to hold it against him”

“Why are you all wet?” You asked watching the tiny puddle grow on the floor. 

“I was in the bath”

“Can ghosts not take their clothes off?” You asked

“I can I just didn’t think it necessary, I don’t get dirty not anymore”

“So you shower cause you want to not because you have to that’s cool”

“It is actually the opposite, I am now showering because I have to, not because I want to,” he frowned, watching you yawn. “Come on it's time for bed and your drunk”

“Rude” you mumbled 

“How is that rude?” He scoffed laughing trying to lead you to your bedroom using all his strength to push and pull you around objects even opening your door before you ran into it. 

Once you were safely in bed he let out a sigh shaking his damp hair from his eyes, you were so cute when you were drunk. He swore he would protect you and watch over you while you slept. 

What he wasn’t prepared for while tucking you in was for your small hand to grasp his damp sleeve and pull him to lay beside you burying your face dangerously close to his. 

He was a little jealous of Yoongi, for being able to kiss you, he knew he shouldn’t have but he wanted to know if your lips were as soft as they appeared. 

He leaned in softly, one kiss he thought and then he would leave you undisturbed. He tried his hardest and used all his strength to gently place his lips gently on yours. He didn’t realise how much he had missed human contact, not only since his death but before it as well. Dancing had taken away his chances of dating, as every hour and ever thought was spent on dancing and perfecting his moves. 

[jemstone625]

Shield | Dabi x Oc Chapter One --------------------------------------------

The door was scratched and dented with chipped brown spots. The brass colored lock and matching door knob dulled with age and neglect. Dabi gave no thought as it squealed and groaned when he pushed it open, not till the apartment before him revealed itself. His feet stuck outside the threshold, and his eyes widened a fraction as they shifted through the murk. Dabi did not like being caught off guard, and at the moment he most certainly didn’t want to deal with worthless lower lifeforms who had forgotten to lock their front door.

The arrival of winter and its icy serenade of coolness, alongside with the pain of hunger and the thirst for sleep, had left Dabi in a very low mood. One that hadn’t quite escalated into being fowl, but he knew it was teetering on the edge of descending into just that. All it would take was some pointless villain or thug trying to jump him for Dabi to burn the whole building to the ground. Instead of his hands flickering blue to light the path before him Dabi sniffed at the warm air washing over him in thick waves. Entwined in the building’s natural pungent odor of damp moldy wood was the faintest trace of cinnamon. 

It was this oddity that had his knees bending and Dabi crossing through the doorway. He didn’t mind crashing into another’s home. He doubted they would even mind if they had left their front door unlocked, and extra security wasn’t something he bothered worrying about -- not in this part of town. If someone screamed often more than not those nearby looked the other way. Only the heroes would investigate and they rarely came this far unless on a mission or patrolling, and their activity decreased drastically at night.

Closing the door behind him, to keep the warmth locked inside the small flat, electric neon hues flickered about as they studied the shadows for movement. Looking for an indicator that would expose the owner of this hovel, but Dabi saw and heard nothing. Only ugly and baron peeling pale purple walls with cracks running down them greeted him.

Scared and calloused hands trailed along the wall as he sauntered his way through the home. Dabi’s footsteps echoed on the wooden floor boards. His mind though had him following the sweet, spicy-hot, fragrance until he found himself standing alone in a living room. On one of the counters sat a lit candle. It looked new. To the left, high above on the shelf connected to the only window in the room, sat a half dead plant. The orange pot it occupied was obviously too small for the large leafed shrub.

A grin broke out across Dabi’s face, stretching the staples till his flesh stung, as he soaked in the mirthful garden he had accidently stumbled upon. What luck that some sucker had just left their front door unlocked for him.

‘Idiot.’ Dabi chastised as he focused on a poorly white painted door he could see down another short hallway. It looked to have been left ajar. Which to him was only an eager usher to have him travel over and give his whole hearted thanks to the tenant.

Pulling down his hood Dabi’s hands flickered with his flames. For the most part the rundown old building was empty, but the few that occupied the place where nothing but lowlife wannabe thugs or drug addicts. It was why he was squatting in one of the many vacant flats. The likelihood of being caught was low.

Still he should give his thanks and greetings to the tenant. It would only be proper of him. Dabi wouldn’t want to come off as rude when later they found him sleeping on their couch.

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

Yua huffed. Today had been sheer hell, and it had all begun the moment her alarm began to bleep at five-thirty. The milk had soured, there was no water because she had forgotten to pay the bill, and just as she had been leaving the lock on the front door decided it was time to become unattached to half rotten planks of wood. Yua had gone to slide the lock over and the whole contraption had just popped off into her hand. Half of it bouncing across wooden floor boards and the other half bent in an awkward direction in her hand. 

If there had been a second to spare Yua might just have screamed in frustration, but instead she plopped Kayda down before rushing about in a frenzy to hide anything of value. She cursed and swore in colorful words as she shoved objects beneath the loose floorboards under her bed and in the space above the tiles in the bathroom.

‘The day is still young.’ Was what she had told herself as Yua dropped her sister off with the sitter. A broken lock on their home wasn’t the worst thing to happen to them, and it could easily be fixed. Her day though didn’t get better as the hours ticked by. During her shift at the diner she had been called in to talk with her manager. Who notified her that due to budget costs she was going to be released. She had known a few of the employees would be leaving but that still didn’t help when she had discovered that she was one of them. Though Yua had a hunch that the decision had been heavily influenced by her dumping a steaming cup of coffee on the crotch of one of their customers, not to mention she had golden laced things when she had hit the creep repeatedly with one of the trays they used to bring out the food. Yua didn’t regret what she had done. The purple tinted man deserved what he had gotten. Still, it stung that her reckless actions had cost her this job. 

“I understand.” Finding another job that could fit with her busy schedule was going to be difficult. Yua didn’t let her employer see the stress steadily growing and instead she scraped on a smile before bowing deeply. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

At least she had been able to finish the day in dignity before fleeing for her evening work in the red district as a club waitress. When all was said and done and her day had finally come to an end it was two hours past midnight, and Yua still had to make a pit stop to get a new lock for her apartments front door. By the time she had picked up Kayda the night had long since been enveloped in a blanket of velvet darkness and streaked white from snow. The only light being casted was from the street lamps.

Yua hated winter. She hated the cold, almost as much as she hated mushrooms and saggy pants. There was nothing like worrying if your fingers would fall off first or if your nose would. Nothing like having to scurry home only in the same short skirt, nylon tights, and tight top she had worn at the club because someone had stolen her jeans and heavy coat. 

Walking home in the dark was not new for Yua, but doing so with her arms full and a small bundle of life attached to her hip left Yua on edge. Her feet traveled as swiftly as possible, as she kept her eyes peeled and her ears alert for any signs of trouble. It was unusual, and rare, when Kayda’s sitter couldn’t make it to the flat. The last three days had been that way. Yua getting ready in the morning before racing to drop her little sister off with an elderly lady she trusted.

Yua would have much rather waited to go shopping until tomorrow. She would have been free tomorrow morning until late afternoon now without her primary day job, but the idea of sleeping in her flat while the lock on the front door was broken didn’t settle well with her. Yua hated where they stayed, but it was the only place she could find within her budget. She hated that the man on the first level always sat outside his door smoking and watching. She hated that there was mold in the hallways. She hated that she could only fall asleep with one of the kitchen knives tucked between her bed and the box of springs.

She had promised herself and Kayda that one day, one of these days, they would leave the horrid hole they were trapped in. That Yua would give her sister the life she deserved and not the slums they were stuck in.

Shivering uncontrollably, Yua sped up her pace as their home came into view. Bitterly cold and humid -- what an enchanting combination. Everything outside was coated in a heavy dusting of snow, and pulling open the metal doors left her hands tingling and throbbing painfully. The dim lit hallway that met the two sisters was just as cold and unforgiving as it was outside. Yua could see her breath materializing with each exhale, just as she could feel the small body clinging to her side shivering despite the thick winter apparel adoring the child.

Climbing four flights of stairs Yua finally came to a stop. With Kayda balanced on one hip and grocery bags dangling off her other arm Yua struggled as she used her foot to harshly push open the front door.

“Hold on will you.” Yua chattered to the wiggling toddler as she flicked on the lights. Jumbled words fell from the girl’s mouth as she quickly made her way to the ground. Yua was only able to pick out the words duck and bubbles before the dark haired three year old made a mad dash for the living room.

Yua couldn’t get her feet to move for a second as she basked in the heat swelling in her home. It felt so nice against her icy skin. Standing there with bags digging into the flesh of her arm though had her mind reeling and telling her to keep moving. So, she followed Kayda as the small girl wobbled to and fro. Her head pointed down to the ground in a firm glare. A challenge had been issued and Yua had no clue what it was, or how the floor had aggravated the toddler. 

Dismissing the child Yua instead took a turn for the kitchen. Bags were barely placed on the counter before she heard her sister babbling to herself down the hallway. Halfway through putting the items away Yua heard her sister cry out again, this time with a request that was still being warmed in the microwave.

“Coco!” Came Kayda’s small but demanding voice. “Coco!”

“It’s still warming up.” Yua answered as she shoved a bag of chicken nuggets into the freezer. “You’re going to have to wait.”

A soft smile graced Yua’s features as her hands wrapped around her steaming mug. The heat of the drink brought life to her veins once more. Green hues watched as the numbers on the microwave counted down, and when it dinged she removed the sippy cup and took a test sip from the beverage to see how warm the liquid inside was. Then, with a mug and warm sippy cup in hand Yua made her way to the living room.

“Coco! Coco! Coco!” With each word came the squeaking of her fluffy toy duck.

“Patience little demon.” Yua teased playfully, though the slight smile dancing on her lips vanished when she became aware that there was a stranger standing within reaching vicinity of her sister.

“Coco! Coco!” The child cried as she pointed viciously at the man near the window. Electric blue’s stuck instantly to Yua but her attention was on the steady flickering of flames erupting from his fingertips.

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Interested? You can find the story on Quotev and Fanfiction!

https://www.quotev.com/story/13059990/Shield-Dabi-x-Oc/1

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13693411/1/Shield

[diaxfeliz]

A LITTLE MORE OF YOU • Rey

» Star Wars / Rey Skywalker … Y/N is a robotics engineer of the Resistance who had been conducting experiments on Jakku. When they finally arrive at the Resistance base after who knows how long, Rey finally meets them again.

A/N: uhhhhHHHH how 2 love

Status : Acquaintances Relationship : Professional, Crushing

WORD COUNT: 1009

An scavenger getting in the way of the engineer’s work.

You smiled as your desert droid came to life with a chipper. He was a small rover with tank-like wheels and a tight chassis. He was much smaller compared to the other droids the Resistance had, but he was the first of his kind, your prototype before you moved on with any bigger projects than him, and you were proud.

“PK-32. Peake.” You bent down to pet the small droid which responded by nuzzling his head against your hand. You didn’t mean for him to be a lot like a pet.

Peake perked its head like he had noticed something and began to beep at you. You didn’t understand him yet because of his gurgled beeping, but then he rushed past you and to the entrance of your tent.

“Where you going, boy?” you asked as he zoomed out.

The curtains of your tent were drawn aside, and to your surprise, Rey came inside with Peake quickly circling her legs. She laughed as the droid kept bumping into her feet.

“Sand!” Peake exclaimed and took out his included vacuum and began to vacuum Rey’s legs.

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you, boy?” Rey laughed as she carefully picked up the bot.

“Sand!” Peake exclaimed again.

While Rey still hadn’t noticed you, you stared into the same eyes you saw out on Jakku when you were experimenting different tires. You had gotten yourself lost in her eyes when you first saw her on Jakku. You weren’t planning on meeting anyone during your stay there, but you couldn’t help but have Rey keep you company because of the charm she had. You couldn’t pin point what made her attractive, but you just found her that way.

Rey eventually met your eyes that were still on her and smiled. “Oh, hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Is he yours?”

“Oh… uhm… y-yes, he is.” You stammered and straightened your glasses. You were glad Rey hadn’t noticed your staring. “P-Peake, come here.”

The droid beeped in response and jumped out of Rey’s hands and zoomed over to you. You accepted Peake as he rolled on your hands and stood up again. You silently scolded the droid for recklessly jumping off from such a height and checked for any potential damages. You did design him to not do any jumping after all.

As you examined him, Rey seemed to have recognized you and joined your side. From the corner of your eye, you could see her staring, almost as if she was examining you. Heat rose to your cheeks which you tried to hide by putting a hand over your mouth and clearing your throat. Rey was getting unusually close now that she was coming into your peripheral vision even more.

“You’re that engineer.” she said with excitement in her eyes. “You’re Y/N, right—” Rey, from getting too close, accidentally lost footing and accidentally fell on you.

Since you were right next to your work table, your back hit the edge and Rey fell on top of you. You held Peake in one hand and held him above your heads to keep him from getting damaged. You turned to Rey and the burn in your cheeks rose because of how Rey basically had you pinned to the table, let alone the fact that your faces were merely inches apart.

“Y-Yeah.” You stammered. “I’m glad you… uhm… remembered, Rey.”

Rey, curiously and still platonically, cupped the side of your face and glided her thumb over your cool skin. She hummed in confusion, but eventually chuckled when she came to her conclusion. You grew uncomfortable at how she probably noticed your blush by now. You were never really the best at hiding how you felt and you weren’t exactly surprised Rey had finally noticed.

“It wasn’t the heat getting to you, was it?” she said, referring to your reddened and reddening cheeks.

“U-Uhm… Rey?” You mumbled.

“Yes, Y/N?” She fluttered her eyelashes at you and inched closer, her hand still on the side of your face.

Your lips were dangerously close and while you weren’t able to hide your feelings, you were also very unsure of the actions to take because of those feelings. As Rey came closer, your bodies pressing into each other at this point, you had to grab the edge of the table with your free hand to keep balance. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest and you wouldn’t be surprised if Rey had noticed that too over the rapid beating of her own.

You stifled a nervously laugh and cleared your throat. “The — uhm… the droid, Rey.”

She laughed at your nervousness and shook her head. “I know.”

Simultaneous to taking Peake from the edge of your hand, Rey left a gentle kiss on your lips and pulled away, leaving you wanting more. Your eyes widened at her move and struggled to find the words for it. You stumbled over every syllable you tried to say and of course, Rey laughed. When she had finally gotten off you, you didn’t move from your position afraid to let her lingering touch go.

You eventually did get up and straightened your uniform all while avoiding Rey’s gaze. Your blush still hadn’t left your cheeks and you had a feeling it would be something Rey would make fun of you for.

“You’re such a pure thing, aren’t you, Y/N?” Rey laughed and placed a hand on the side of your face as she did earlier. You huffed like a child and looked away. “I need a little more of that in my life — a little more of you.”

Rey left one more kiss on your cheek before she left to who-knows-where with your droid. You didn’t want to admit it, but you enjoyed her displays of affection, something you never exactly experienced or learned how to do. Your heart hadn’t slowed down even after Rey left, but you supposed you knew that it was because Rey would be the one to come back to you.

[afterthelastreset]

Krisei Zodiac Event Pisces Week

Pisces Zodiac Sign Info Gotten From:

https://www.astrology-zodiac-signs.com/zodiac-signs/pisces/

“Pisces are very friendly, so they often find themselves in a company of very different people. Pisces are selfless, they are always willing to help others, without hoping to get anything back.

Pisces is a Water sign and as such this zodiac sign is characterized by empathy and expressed emotional capacity.”

💧Pisces Week

(This the entire element Is water Im going to base the element off that with the au Ocean rune or just water scenes, since in the rules were aloud to do stuff based off the element of the Zodiac sign.)

Day 1:  

The beach. A wonderful place to go on a hot day for anyone with plenty to do and see and so much activities for anyone even if you weren't a swimming person. Building sandcastles. Getting a tan. Going swimming. Just relaxing with a good book or painting the scenery. Volleyball. Collecting seashells. Snorkling or diving and seeing all the cool fish and underwater life. There was also the occasional fisherman and someone doing watersports like surfing, water skying, jet boats, a whole lot of fun on the beautiful waves and deep blue sea- Or if you were the pair of friends in question, you'd be sitting at a picnic table under the shade and snacking on the food you got. Milkshakes ain't got NOTHIN' on the heat here now, except maybe the chocolate ones they served. Chocolate milkshakes was always the best in his opinion as he happily ate and watched all the other people running around and doing whatever they wanted to do on this smoldering hot day, it was too hot for him though sadly. Fur and all but the scenery was really pretty, even more so now that it was sunny and not cloudy like it had been recently. So of course he'd drag his friend out of the house and into the glorious great outdoors!!......Buuut they were a little busy looking at a little piece of drift wood they had found while walking In the hot sun before being dragged to the giant umbrellaed picnic tables of the beach resort. They'd been doing that for quite a while actually.

"Kris?" The human hummed not looking up at the other one across from them. "What are you doing there?"

Instead of looking up from their lap they just shrugged. "Carving somthin'."

he frowned. he knew Kris wasn't a big fan of being in public, but this wasn't exactly what he had in mind for the two of them to do when he dragged the brown haired human out of the house. SO hhe smiled politely and asked. "Really? Whatcha carving now?"

"You'll see. Almost done," they mumbled still not looking up from their position and Ralsei just groaned and sat down into his seat.

he sighed and went back to his coco milkshake then. Watching as people still walked by and once and a while looked up just to see Kris still carving something with their carving knife and keeping it out of sight of the other until they suddenly brought it up and finally held it out to him. And in their hands was a small little carved out fish. he smiled and took the small gift from them and looked at the neatly carved little goldfish he was just handed. If it wasn't obviously made of wood then she would've sworn it was a real goldfish. They always had a nack for this thing and found Kris giving a small smile back, Ralsei couldn't help but stand up to go hug his friend.

"This is beautiful Kris! Thank you!"

"Your welcome."

Day 2:

*This takes place in the Au OceanFellrune since I wanted to try exploring this au more*

Well this certainly was a pickle wasn't it. Imagine just going for a swim with your best friend and enjoying a nice day at the beach to just relax, simple right? Yeah- Nope. A storm had blown in unexpectedly and swept through the sea just a few hours after they arrived. All he wanted was to just relax around on his floaty, not be swept out to the middle of the gigantic lake with no way back..Well, he could swim but those waves didn't look so promising against his mediocre swimming skills, at least if he stayed on the floaty he could stay afloat and not worry about sinking.

But now he had another problem...The sky was starting to get darker by the minute and he wasn't too sure which direction was the way back to shore anymore. It was kinda hard to tell with the waves being so tall and him getting tossed back and forth like a ragdoll on a beach ball wasn't the best feeling in the world, and he was starting to feel like puking. Man....he was starting to get tired of this-

"HELP!! ANYONE?!" Don't ask why he thought it was a good idea to start shouting for a friend who couldn't help him, might've been just a reflex or a hope but it would soon lead to more bad than good...Or would it? "HELP?! HEL-"

A wave chose that exact moment to rear it's ugly head and crash down over the poor human's body, the wind was knocked outta him like a rock slammed into her. Immediately air bubbles surrounded his form as he unceremoniously screamed from the hurtful impact, darkness surrounded his form as the stormy waves above continued to rattle about like some sort of punisher. It was surprisingly....calm in the dark black surrounding him. Almost like the night. Completely silent. A peaceful way to go if she didn't want to die.

It was when he turned and found two pink eyes and a mouth full of teeth staring at him did he scream again.

You know....It's really troubling trying to find some peace somewhere where there's not a lot available just swimming around, so imagine his luck when he stumbled across a seemingly dumb person just floating about in the middle of his territory. Kinda dumb being all the way out here in the middle of the dam storm, but who was he to judge. A human's a human. A quick wave was able to knock whoever the person was over and into the water where he waited. He grumbled just thinking about it... But that thought soon vanished after seeing her face.

UGH- He hated puny fighters. This one wasn't worth the trouble...Not enough courage on her. He also didn't appreciate the bubbles shoved in his face when she screamed again and started kicking up towards the surface. His face scrunched up in annoyance. Did everyone always have to be so rude when they see a gigantic aquatic goat monster looking at them? Oh well. At least he got to do the scaring part he always liked.

Ounce he made it back up through the swaying surface, coughing and spitting out out hislungs, a dark shadow loomed out from under him. In a split second the shadow had bust through the waves with ease. Water splashed over him, almost sending him down under the water again.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU FOOOOOL!!!" His raspy voice boomed over the noise of the waves and wind. "Those who enter my territory are doomed to DIE! Wha- H-HEY!" He flinched back when he yelped and instinctively grabbed onto him to keep from being drowned down by a wave. "HEY! Do you have a death wish! Those who ever as much as touch me are bound to- HEY! STOP DROWNING WHEN IM TRYING TO THREATEN YOU!!"

With a blub sound another wave sent him under. He groaned. Did his enemies ALWAYS have to make things more difficult like this? He stuck his hand back under the waves and a moment later he pulled the shivering, sputtering human back out of the bobbing water. he coughed and spat out some of the salt water, heaving and looking up at him.

".....*sigh* You know what? Screw this. My voice isn't worth some drowned human."

He began turning in the opposite direction and making swimming through the waves look like a breeze. he gave him a confused. "Where-....W-Where are we g-g-going?"

"Im dumping you on the shore. You're not worth the trouble of straining my voice."

Day 3:

IT WAS HOT!!

A lot hotter than what he was really used to, and to be perfectly honest, he didn't enjoy having the burning feeling in his lungs, or the amount of ssweat running down his body, or the heat baring down on himself. What was wrong with enjoying a nice inside inside and relaxing? Maybe cuddled up together in a nice air conditioned room, watching the live action of Romeo and Juliet? That was a beautiful tale is he did say so himself. But Noooo- he just had to go running today of all days on the beach. When the sun was fricking making it almost 80 DEGREES!! He stopped and heaved his lungs out, hands on his knees and gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Soft foosteps  rang out behind him and soon someone stopped next to him. It took a few moments but he eventually looked up into the smiling face of human.

"W-What art you..*wheeze* smiling at?!"

He laughed. "Ralsei, when was the last time you even took a relaxing jog?"

"KRIS?! Running on the beach with fur is too much. C-can’t we just go swimming instead?)

He laughed again and very easily stood on one foot and stretched the other out into a ballet pose. "Ralsei, exercise never hurt anyone. I know I enjoy it.~''

''THAT'S BECAUSE YOU’RE BUILT FOR THIS!! W-With NO fur!! I-I feel horrible! Why did I bake and eat so many cakes!?”

"Oh don't be so cranky." He rolled his eye not paying him any attention. "We still have half a mile before we can start back."

He heard his lover groan behind him and he chuckled again, well the sooner they finished the sooner they could go back. It was just then he heard wheezing sounds behind him and he turned around....and blinked. His boyfriend was no where to be seen. Until he looked down that is and saw a puddle of exhausted ghost monster on the sand.

"RALSEI!!"

Day 4:

*merman Kris braces legs and goes on land to ask Ralsei a question*

The screams of children swarm about the place as he stood outside the building. He never did like the thought of screaming little munchkins running around him, or their dirty little hands grabbing onto him, or sneezing on him-; He shuddered just thinking about the germs. Funny coming from someone who's eaten raw fish, but he was free to not like what he wanted. But, he was here for a different reason. Not for the kids-

"ACK-"

One of the small buggers crashed into his legs while running around. The little girl shook her head before squealing in delight and getting up to run after another child. Playing tag he presumed. 

"Kris?"

He jumped and whirled around into the curious face of the very person he wanted to see...And who he sometimes got mad with. No he didn't like it when he held his hand. Or when he gently kissed him. Or when he smiled and hugged him- He hissed at himself which made him frown and raise a brow.

"Um. Are you ok?"

"NO!...Yes! Im fine. Im fine!"

His crooked smile didn't seem to faze him more and only resulted in more confusion. This wasn't going as he planned was it? Nope! He could see it in his eyes as he looked him up and down. It was pretty rare to see Kris on dry land, with legs, he seemed to despise legs and preferred to sticking to his underwater domain. ….So why was he here in the first place?

"Ok....Um. What're you doing here? I thought you hated land."

"I do!....I- Uh-" His face flushed a light pink, and he mentally cursed himself for stuttering. "I-....C-Came to see you."

"Really?" He nodded and he became a litle redder. Of course, he giggled at the cute sight as soon as it happened and he groaned. Did he always have to respond with his cute little giggles or when- HOLY CRAP! he grabbed his hand! His eyes shined like little gems up at him, and he actually gulped. "That's so nice of you. Did you want something?"

This was it. This was the moment he came for. So of course he opened his mouth-....And a high pitched squeak came out. They froze. A look of abosolute horror coming over his face. he however went wide eyes and gasped. ….Oh no. Not this. He didn't like where this was going- he squealed in glees and immediately grabbed his face.

"THAT WAS SO CUTE!! YOU SOUND JUST LIKE A BABY!!"

His face blew up a bright red and he sputtered. "I-IM NOT A CHILD!!" he cooed and booped his nose. "S-Stop! I didn't come t-t-to be treated like a child!"

he hummed. "Then what did you come here for?"

"I want a date Ralsei! I h-hate it when...you...….." His eyes widened. " D*MMIT!! Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" he faked innocently batted his eyelashes and giggled once he drowned in the red sea of blush. He was always so easy to fluster like this. So, it was perfectly natural to place a small kiss on his cheek. The result was weird drowning fish noises and him reaching up to try and fail to limply pull his face away from him. he giggled that cursed cute smile. "I'm really honored you came all this way to see me and I'd love to go out with you."

His mouth dropped. "R-Really?!"

he nodded. "But I have to finish work first. Is that ok?";

He nodded silently and he patted his cheek before letting go. A couple children came up to him and wisked him away into a game he didn't understand and he didn't move. Just stand there red faced and silently watching after him...…..He gulped heavily and slowly leaned back up into standing position.

He needed to get better control of his expressions.

Day 5:

*more merman Kris*

What had made him come to this? What lunatic controlling fate made the grand decision of making him fall for such a small weak little thing like him? He would probably never know, but the way he was giggling and holding his very red face right now in his soft little hands. He could always turn around, swim away, and never look back-....but he mustve put some kind of spell on him as he continued to gush at him.;

"I could eat you right know." He gave a small growl, showing on his fangs to give his point. "Know one would know and you always risk yourself by coming you know.''

he smiled. "You won't do that."

His brow raised. "How can you be so sure?"

he smiled wider. "Because your face tells a lot more than you think."

D*M IT ALL TO NEXT HELL!! He cursed himself for being like this, for being so weak and vulnerable around someone who wasn't even a threat to him. What would happen if some danger did come along?! NO! He didn't like the way he looked at him with those big beautiful eyes, or the way he was so patient with his stupid arse, or the way he was always squishing his cheeks in his soft paws and calling him cute- NOPE! NOT AT ALL!! And he definitely didn't spend last night laying awake thinking about how cute and soft he was! Nope! And he definitely didn't hit his head trying to catch him a fish she loved just to see him smile at him-

ABSOLUTELY NOT!!

…...Ok. Maybe- But that's a very small maybe.

Day 6:

*even more merman Kris* 

"S-Stop it."

"Why? You're acting like a child."

"Because I don't like physical contact. And I'd like to see you prove me wrong.'' He made a move to pry his hands from his face but that idea was scraped when he felt something small on his face.

OH SWEET MOTHER OF HECK-!! WAS THIS GOATvSERIOUSLY-?! he gave a small kiss on his cheek which he froze at, immediately his face broke out into a watermelon red. His hands were shoved in front of his face as to hide his embarrassment.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH- STOP THAT!!"

She just giggled and gave him another small kiss. More muffled screams followed, before the flustered screaming merman turned around and jumped from the doc red faced still holding his face as Ralsei giggled and waved good bye.

“Bye, Kris. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Day 7:

*ralsei helping Kris with his fear of water*

He shouldn't. He couldn't......HE CAN'T!!

"I can't do this."

The human whimpered out as his red eyes gazed over the body of water that was in front of him. Already he could feel his body sweat and legs wobbling as he stared at it. A small black hand grabbed his making him flinch and look at the smaller demon next to him.

Ralsei blinked his pink eyes at him and smiled. "Oh, come on. It'll be ok." To prove his point, he stepped into the kiddy pool still holding his hand. "See? It's safe and sound."

He shook his head. "I-I don't think t-t-this is a good idea, Ralsei." He gulped down the lump in his throat. "I-I think it would be m-much better if I-I watched..through a window."

Ralsei still didn’t back down as he pulled Kris forwards more and yanked him a bit forwards enough for the human to yelp and freeze when the water came up to his ankles and shuddered at the cool feeling around his feet but managed to smile for Ralsei sake. Making the goat monster smile back. 

“See? I told you it’d be alright”

@krisei-world

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu) Memory

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Friendship, Angst, Drama ☁

Word Count: 4,826 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Tetsutetsu ☁

World: Boku no Hero Academia ☁

Author’s Note: First time writing for Tetsu and he’s probably so out of character haha I don’t know why, but it was so hard to focus on writing this and I’m not sure if it was the fic doing it or just because I can’t focus on one thing for more than two seconds (thanks tumblr). But I powered through and I think the ending is okay?? Either way, enjoy nearly 5,000 words of Tetsu pft Oh, by the way, I cried working on the middle so good luck.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

Your earliest memory that you could recall was about Tetsutetsu, standing over you with a curious expression on his chubby cheeks. It was the height of summer, cicadas singing without pause as the sun beamed down with angry rays of heat. You hated the summer, but your mother was tired of you spending all your free time on the computer, so she ordered you outside to get some exercise. And at the age of six, who were you to argue? Plus, she threatened to cut the internet cord if you didn’t so so, which was a big motivator.

This boy, with his mop of silver hair and black eyes, teeth as sharp as a razor and eyes lined with tan-colored spikes, had seen you fall dramatically to the grass and had rushed over to make sure you were not injured. Screaming in your face admittedly wasn’t the best way to approach someone that might be injured, but his worry touched your heart, even if you didn’t realize it at the time.

As the two of you sat there, talking about all of the things you both enjoyed or couldn’t stand, time quickly ticked by and, before you knew it, the sun was hiding behind the mountains in the distance. You had, surprisingly, completely forgotten about the internet and the anime you had been binging that morning.

When he noticed the darkness quickly setting in, he stood up and offered you his hand. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“Sure,” your hand slid into his own and he pulled you up with little effort, but he didn’t release your hand, nor did you try to pull away. “Ne, what’s your name? Mine is Y/N.”

He grinned widely, his shark-like teeth glinting under the light of the streetlamp. “My name’s Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu! Remember it, because I’m gonna be a pro-hero!”

You honestly didn’t know how to feel, unable to wrap your young mind around how a parent could doom their child with such a name. Did his family hate him? Was it some sort of dare gone wrong? As badly as you wanted to ask him about it, you thought it rude to do so. “Thanks for walking me home, future hero.”

Before you could pull your hand away, he increased his grip. “Can we hang out tomorrow, too?”

You considered this for a moment before nodding, offering him a grin. “Sure!”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

The second memory that sprang to your mind took place when you were just twelve years old. Spring was coming to a close and you had decided to confess your feelings for your classmate, Yui. The pink-haired boy was your first crush and your first heartbreak, and you had made the mistake of confessing to him during lunch, surrounded by your peers.

It didn’t go well.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but -”

“He would never like you!” Yua, his twin sister, forced herself between the two of you, her loud voice drawing the attention of the other students. “You’re too ugly for him and you look like a hippo! Hippo Y/N, hippo Y/N!”

Tears stung at your eyes as you looked to Yui, waiting for him to stick up for you, but he only turned his head away, eyes cast toward the ground. The other students soon joined Yua in her teasing.

“Hippo Y/N! Hippo Y/N! Hippo Y/N!”

Your sneakers squeaked across the floor as you ran toward the door, tears blurring your vision. Your nearly ran into Tetsu and his friend as they entered the lunchroom, but you dodged his hands when he tried to reach for you. His brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at your retreating form. Why were you crying? And then he heard the other kids chanting and laughing. As badly as he wanted to yell at Yua, who was clearly the mastermind, you were his top priority. He had to make sure you were okay, but… where had you gone?

The roof was off-limits to the students because of how rusted the railing was, so the doors were kept locked. That meant nothing to you, though, as your quirk, Key, was able to easily bypass this. It was a fairly simple quirk that allowed you to create a key for any lock you touched, but it disappeared after use.

The janitor had left the door unlocked once, allowing a group of girls to skip class by hiding out on the roof. When the staff found out about this, the janitor was fired and the girls received a month of detention each. Since then, the roof has remained unused, no one wanting to risk spending a month with Jamison-sensei. The place was perfect for you to hide away from the other students.

You headed to the far side of the roof, sliding down the side of the metal air conditioning unit, the fan whirring loudly. The sound helped to block out the sound of your sobs, though you did try to muffle them by stuffing your face against your knees.

Tetsu was panicking as he ran through the school, trying to find his best friend, but you were nowhere in sight. As he rounded the corner, he suddenly came to a stop, spying the thin staircase that led directly to the roof. Something compelled him forward and he raced up the stairs without a second thought. Though the door was closed tight, his eyes just barely caught sight of the gray dust left behind in the lock from your quirk – a fine, barely visible powder.

He pushed the door open, the metal creaking loudly. A choked sob reached his ears, making his heart seize painfully as he followed the sound, finding you curled up within yourself, body shaking. The sight left him feeling a pain he had never before felt and he didn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you, whispering softly into your ear as you clung to his shirt as if your life depended on it.

It took a couple of days before you were back to your normal self, and you were surprised that the other kids weren’t still teasing you. While you assumed they had just gotten bored and moved on, the truth was that Tetsu had yelled at anyone he found to be making fun of you, threatening to pound them senseless if they didn’t stop.

You didn’t need to know that.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You never wanted to be a hero. Really, there wasn’t anything that you wanted for the future, you were just kind of living life and enjoying your youth by binge-watching anime. Maybe you could be a video game designer? Or perhaps you could get a job at the local internet provider. Maybe then they would have better download speeds because it takes far too long to download your anime.

Tetsutetsu was different. He had been motivated to be a hero since he was a child, and he was training hard to get accepted into U.A. high, the leading school for hero hopefuls. Being his best friend meant that he forced you into training with him and even managed to convince you to sign up for the entrance exam alongside him, which you thought was a complete waste of time. After all, how could someone with a Key quirk become a pro hero? Still, you wanted to support your best friend and you had nothing better to do, so you agreed.

The written test was troublesome, mostly because you couldn’t stay focused with a winged boy sitting to your left. His wings would react to his thoughts and feelings, so they kept expanding and shuddering and you couldn’t possibly concentrate until you touched them.

He did not appreciate that.

When it came to the physical test, you had a lot more fun than you had expected. With Tetsu’s training, you were able to dodge most of the robot’s attacks, though one did sock you in the gut, leaving a nasty bruise. While dodging, you just had to locate a control panel or emergency shut off switch, to which your quirk became quite useful. It was pretty cool to see so many different types of quirks in action, you had to admit.

There was one person specifically that caught your eye; a blonde boy with some kind of explosion quirk. Though he didn’t seem to be anything too impressive, he was so aggressive and angry that you couldn’t help feeling intrigued. He was someone that definitely demanded attention.

When the results of the exam finally came in, you were surprised to find that you had been accepted into the hero course. You immediately headed over to Tetsu’s house to see if he had gotten his letter, as well. He had, but was too afraid to open it and made you do so for him.

“You got in!” You grinned after the holographic video ended. “Congratulations, Tetsu!”

He threw his arms around you, sniffling as he tried to hold back his tears. “I got in!!” And then he paused, pulling back so he could look at you. “Did you?”

“Yup! Class… A, I think?”

Tetsu’s smile faltered for half a second, barely noticeable to most, but very much so to yourself. “That’s… great!”

“What’s wrong?” your brow furrowed.

“It’s nothing. I was just hoping we’d be in the same class!”

“Oh, yeah, that does suck. But we’ll still be best friends, don’t worry!”

You made the mistake of believing him.

You’d pay for that later.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You remembered it like it was yesterday, though it had been about two weeks already. It was, by far, your most painful memory to date, but you couldn’t help feeling like it was all your fault. You had misinterpreted the signs or just missed them altogether. What kind of friend were you? After everything he had done for you over the years, this is how you repay him.

You stole his dream away from him.

It was right after the announcement for the sports festival. The other classes had gathered outside of class 1-A, scoping out the competition because, after you all had been attacked by villains, your class was front-page news. Tetsu was also there, yelling up a storm as he usually did. You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, but he didn’t appreciate that.

His eyes narrowed at you, fists clenched tightly at his sides. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t raised like normal, it was deadly calm. “You think this is funny, Y/N? This has always been a joke to you. You don’t even want to be a hero, but you get put in class A… you’re pathetic!”

It left like his words had been turned into sharp arrows, piercing your heart with each sentence. In all of the years you’ve known him, he had never talked to you like that, never raised his voice or gotten angry at you. So what had changed?

“Tetsu, I…” But what could you say that didn’t make things worse? He was right, after all.

Bakugo, who you had gotten close to since starting at U.A., scoffed as he threw his back over his shoulder. “You’re just mad because you know you’re beneath us,”

“Katsuki,” you hissed, smacking his shoulder. “Stop trying to make things worse!”

Tetsu’s lip curled back in disgust as he watched you, not missing how you used the boy’s first name. He had witnessed first hand how close you had gotten to the ash blonde and he didn’t like it. “Y/N, this is my declaration! I will beat you in the sports festival and take your spot in class A!”

“Ha! You can try, you damned extra, but you won’t get far! Let’s go, Y/N!” Bakugo took off down the hall.

You turned your attention back to Tetsu with a frown, but he only scoffed and walked in the opposite direction. You could only stand there feeling like shit, watching your best friend walk away from you.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You sighed as you fell into your seat, eyes trained on the window beside your desk. The sky was dark grey, completely blocking out the sun. Rain fell in heavy sheets, the wind blowing hard enough to knock thin branches from nearby trees. The forecast had said nothing about rain and, just twenty minutes ago, the sun was shining without a cloud in sight.

‘Maybe I have a secret quirk that changes the weather according to my mood,’ you sighed again, burying your face in your arms that sat atop the desk. It certainly reflected your current mood. You had been thinking on it a lot and you came to realize that Tetsu had been slowly distancing himself from you since the day you both were accepted at U.A. You had just assumed he was spending time with his new classmates so you didn’t pressure him, but now you wondered if that had been his subtle way of reaching out to you.

You wanted nothing more than to fix this, but you didn’t know how. You had gone to class B to try and talk it out, but that annoying prick, Monoma, had blocked your way, not missing a beat when it came to insulting class A. For some reason, though, he was careful not to insult you, which you did find strange, but you had more important things to worry about.

“Damn it, Y/N, if you sigh one more damn time I’m gonna kick your ass!” Bakugo jumped out of his seat, slamming his foot on your desk.

You only groaned in response, the sound muffled by your arms.

Kirishima frowned as he approached. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You muttered a response, but it was impossible to make out.

“Speak up, damn it!!”

You lifted your head, eyes glassy as you tried not to cry. Seeing this threw Bakugo off guard and he froze, not knowing how to respond. Your eyes met the red rubies of Kirishima, who reminded you so much of Tetsu. You would give anything to fix your relationship with him.

And then it struck you like a bolt of lightning splitting the sky. You knew what you had to do. You jumped out of your chair, startling the two boys who called your name as you ran from the room, nearly hitting Todoroki in your haste.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

“Please, sensei!” You pleaded, bending at the waist as you bowed at the two pro heroes standing before you.

Aizawa rubbed the back of his messy locks, feeling annoyed with your request. “That isn’t possible, Y/N.”

“But why not?” You demanded, straightening your back so you could look him in the eye.

Kan grunted, folding his arms over his chest. “He has to earn his place, not be given it by someone that’s trying to win brownie points.”

“I’m not trying to win brownie points,” you snapped, fists clenching at your sides. “He has more than earned it! I shouldn’t even be here, he should!”

“Calm down,” Aizawa ordered, narrowing his eyes in warning.

“Not until you let Tetsu take my place! I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be a hero! All of this is meaningless to me if I lose him in the process!” Tears flowed down your cheeks but you didn’t care.

Aizawa’s expression softened as he stepped forward, his hand resting on your head. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but this is not the way to fix it.”

“I don’t know what else to do, sensei.” You sobbed, looking into his tired eyes. “Tell me what to do,”

“Talk to him and tell him how you feel. That’s the best advice I can give.”

“He won’t talk to me!”

“He doesn’t have to talk, he just has to listen.” He ruffled your hair. “You may not think so, but you belong here. You earned your place. Now go on, go fix this problem. I won’t have you distracted and causing problems.”

“Yes, sensei…” you muttered, rubbing at your eyes as you left the room. Maybe he was right – Tetsu didn’t have to talk to you, and even if he walked away, as long as he heard what you had to say, that was enough. You could only hope that your words would reach him.

With your mind made up, you furiously wiped away your tears before heading for class B. Most of the students had already left the class, but the most important one was still there, but so was Monoma. When the blonde noticed you in the doorway, he sprung up like a Jack in the box.

“What are you doing here, hmm? Did you get lost? Makes sense since from class -”

“Get out of my way!” You snapped, eyes narrowed at him. Even with your eyes red and puffy, he scared of what you might do, but Monoma was an egotistical idiot that didn’t know when to quit.

He laughed loudly, his tone going up an octave to mirror his nervousness. “Class A isn’t at all heroic! You’re all a bunch of villains in training!”

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to Tetsu. He had clearly heard the commotion, but he continued to write in his book as if you didn’t exist. You swallowed hard, “Tetsu -”

“He doesn’t want to associate with villains from class A!”

“Tetsu,” you called desperately. “You don’t have to respond, but please just listen to what I have to say! I’m a selfish jerk that doesn’t deserve to have such a good friend. You’ve always been there for me no matter what and… all of my best memories are with you! I applied for U.A. because you asked me to, but a part of me did it because I was scared of losing you. I never intended to hurt you or take your place and you’re right, I am pathetic… but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to fix this, Tetsu. You’ve always been better than me at solving problems. You’re better than me at everything! A better friend, a better fighter, a better person.”

While his hand stilled, he didn’t lift his gaze from the book. You were well aware of all the eyes on you, his classmates and several students that had been passing by. You probably looked like a fool, but you didn’t care.

“Do you remember the day we met? You told me to remember your name because you were going to be a pro hero one day. The truth is… You’re already a hero. My hero! You’ve always been there for me. A shoulder to cry on when I’m sad. A friend to confide in when I’m stressed. A knight in shining armor when someone messes with me. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize it, but… I’m in love with you, Tetsu. I have been since the first day we met. I’m so sorry for betraying you, I never meant… I didn’t…” Tears stung your eyes again and you didn’t bother holding them back. “I’m sorry,”

Having said your peace and knowing that Tetsu had no intention of responding, you turned around and left the room, hanging your head as the gathered students whispered about you. You had bore your heart for all to see and, while it hurt like nothing you had felt before, somehow you felt a bit lighter.

People always say you shouldn’t make decisions when you’re emotional, but they fail to realize that’s when you’re most motivated. With this in mind, you waited until class A was empty before slipping a folded piece of paper onto Aizawa’s desk – it was your resignation from from U.A. high. The whole point of coming here was to be with Tetsu because you were scared of losing him, but look where that got you. If Tetsu wasn’t by your side, you didn’t want to be at U.A. anymore.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

BANG

The sudden, loud sound from downstairs jolted you from your sleep, nearly causing you to fall off the bed. A week had passed since you left U.A. and several of your classmates had been trying to contact you, including Bakugo who liked yo bang on your door for thirty fucking minutes, threatening to “burn your ass to ash”. Thankfully, your parents had gone overseas last week and weren’t do back for the rest of the month.

But that left you to wallow in self-pity and binge watch anime filled with romantic drama and tears. Your room was a mess, tissues thrown everywhere, clothes literring the floor, and empty ramen cups stacked up by the desk. Another bang sounded from downstairs and you glanced at the clock.

Six pm. That was a bit early for Bakugo’s visit, but maybe he was trying to catch you off guard. Either way, you couldn’t be botheted, choosing to fall back against the mattress and cover your body with the comforter. In your cocoon, you felt safe and it was the closest you had felt to content since falling out with Tetsu. Your heart clenched painfully just at the thought of him. Yui may have been your first crush, but Tetsu was definitely your first love and boy did it hurt a lot worse than just some crush.

SLAM!

You jumped in surprise, shooting up in bed. Bakugo was persistant, sure, but not that persistent. It sounded like the front of your house collapsed! Panicked, you hurried off the bed while simultaneously trying to throw off the comforter, but your foot got stuck and you ended up falling to the wooden floor face first.

Footsteps echoed loudly as they ran up the stairs to your room, the bedroom door opened with such a force that it bounced off the wall. “Y/N!”

That familiar voice made your head snap up, reddened from the impact to the floor. “T-Tetsu?”

His face was hard and angry, but it softened just a bit when he saw you on the floor. Normally, he would have run to you without a second thought to make sure you were okay, but with everything that had happened, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

You slowly sat back onto your knees, legs on either side of your body. “Did you break into my house?”

His body tensed up, a small line of pink coming across his cheeks. “I, uh… You wouldn’t answer the door!”

You scoffed. “I wonder how many criminals have tried that excuse.”

An awkward silence settled over the room and neither of you seemed capable of facing the other. Had you ever felt this awkward around him before? You scanned your memory, but every instance you could think of with him felt warm and comforting. You wanted that back, but… just like a piece of water, once it was crumbled up into a ball, no matter how much time you spend trying to smooth it out, it can never be perfect again. And that terrified you.

Unable to take the silence any longer, you finally spoke up, but your voice wasn’t nearly as strong as you wished it was. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you really drop out of U.A.?” he didn’t even give you a chance to respond. “Are you stupid?! Do you have any idea how many kids would kill to get into U.A.?! Into the hero course?! And you just three it away like it was nothing!”

A surge of anger rushed over you as you got to your feet, eyes narrowed at your former best friend. “What the fuck do you care for, huh? I can’t fucking win with you anymore, Tetsu! I didnt even want to apply, but I did it for you and when I got accepted, you got pissed at me because they put me in class A. And then when I give up my spot and leave the program, you’re still not happy! What do you want from me, huh?! You want me to just roll over and die so you don’t have to -!”

Tetsu couldn’t control himself. One minute he was standing in the doorway and the next he had rushed forward, his palm connecting with your cheek.

SMACK

Your eyes widened as your head tilted to the side, cheek stinging from the impact. ‘He just… hit me?’

“Don’t ever say that!” he cried, tears stinging at his eyes. “I can’t live without you, Y/N!”

You didn’t know what to say as the boy fell to his knees, tears falling down his eyes as his body shook. You had never seen him so upset, so vulnerable before. He was always strong and filled with positivity and hope, but now… He was just as broken as you were. You kneeled in front of him, hands suspended in mid-air as you tried to decide if you should comfort him or not. You didn’t want to make the situation worse, but he made the decision for you, throwing himself against your body and burying his face in your chest. You didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him, gently running your fingers through his mane of silver hair.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, fingers digging into your back. “I just wanted to be your hero but then you got put in class A and started doing better than me! I got jealous and I said things I didn’t mean, I… god I’m so sorry!!”

You softly shushed him, your hand running across the length of his back just as he had done to you so many times in the past. “Its okay, Tetsu, I unders -”

“It’s not!” he cried. “I pushed you away, right into the arms of that damned Bakugo!”

“Katsuki?” Your brow furrowed. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“You think I haven’t noticed how close the two of you are? He’s your new best friend, right?”

“No!” You grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back so you could see his eyes, your hands gently cupping his face. “You are my best friend, Tetsu. You always have been and always will be. I consider Katsuki a friend, sure, but he’s got nothing on you!”

His eyes met yours, his large hands sliding over your own. “In class, did you… did you mean what you said?”

With a blush in your cheeks, you nodded, offering him a smile. “I did. I love you, Tetsutetsu. You’re my everything and I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“I love you, too.” He suddenly leaned forward, his lips capturing your own. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The fight was forgotten, the words scrubbed free from both of your memories. All that mattered was here and now, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You stood on the porch, leaning on the wooden railing as you watched the wind blowing the field of flowers in the distance. The house you lived in was just outside the city, within a small town that valued nature over the overwhelming number of buildings the city offered. Plus, there was little crime in the area, making it a safe place to live for families.

The screen door squeaked as it was opened and shut, the wooden floor creaking under the weight as Tetsu stepped up behind you, his arms sliding around your waist, his warm chest pressed up against your back.

“What are you doing out here?” he questioned, voice groggy after having just woken up. A gust of wind blew across the house. “It’s so hot outside, you should come back inside where it’s cool.”

You chuckled, leaning back against him. “It hasn’t been this hot in a while. It brought back some memories.”

He hummed, his lips lazily moving across your neck. “Good ones?”

“The day we met, actually. It was also this hot.”

“Yeah, it was, but your mom still made you go outside.” Tetsu chuckled. “She threatened your internet, right?”

“Yes!” You scowled at the memory, crossing your arms over your chest. “The nerve of that woman. I would never be so cruel to my child!”

He quirked a brow, turning you around to face him. “You’re planning to have a child without me?!”

You pretended to think on it a moment, laughing when he pouted at you. “Hmm, I was thinking of having a kid with that pro hero, what was his name – – Real Steel, that’s it!”

“Oh?” he smirked, leaning down to pepper kisses across your neck. “And what makes him so special?”

You groaned when he bit down softly on your flesh. “He’s such a handsome man. Strong and caring, and those abs, my god.” As if to prove your point, your hand ran under his shirt, nails scraping across his stomach. His muscles tensed and he groaned against your skin.

“You’re such a tease, Y/N.”

You chuckled, tugging at your husband’s hair so your lips could meet his. “But I’m your tease, Tetsu~”

Tetsu smiled warmly, claiming your lips with every ounce of love within his body. Yes, you were definitely his, but he was just as much yours.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

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[harlot-of-oblivion]

A Dance with the Devil

You are a dancer looking for the perfect partner when you catch the eye of a white haired gentleman known as Vergil. Instantly attracted to this handsome cool devil you engage in an intense dance of passion and seduction.

Well this happened. I blame Vergil's sexy legs.

I'd like to give a shout out to @drusoona for showering me in endless screenshots of those wonderfully yummy legs. It kept me going. Much thanks and love! 💕

I'd also like to thank the anon on tumblr that suggested the title. I loved the idea so much that I even incorporated it in my fic. So, thank you for the inspiration. 😘

The song that is used during their intimate tango is Do It For Me by Rosenfeld.

Enjoy!

You always enjoy the feeling of a crowded dance hall. The soft murmurs that echo as people chat among themselves, the ever present music in the air, the distinct tapping of feet stepping on the floor as the slight swoosh of bodies accompanies their rhythm…you thrive on this energy.

Quite a turn out tonight, you thought as your eyes scan the various students, guests, and instructors that the fill the vast room. You’ve been dancing at the Red Grave City Dance Studio for about a year now. Usually people come and learn the basics, but they don’t stick around to truly master the dances. But you take pride in your tutelage of the intricacies of the standard smooth dances, which is your primary focus. You find any excuse to put on your heels and slap on a red split dress just to feel that exciting rush as you glide across the floor.

Which is why you’re here at the open house…or in this case, an open dance hall. Students of the studio invite anyone they see fit to this event. The dance instructors will go around, invite them to dance, and show them various steps and dances. You didn’t bring a guest though. It’s just events like this are perfect to show off your skills…and perhaps find a suitable dance partner. Unfortunately it takes two people to really do the smooth dances justice, and so far you haven’t found anyone that can be a decent lead. So here you are, standing in the corner as your eyes search the throng of people for a partner.

The swinging door of the entrance way caught your attention. You see one fellow student, you believe her name is Kyrie, walking in holding the arm of a young man with short white hair. Kyrie enrolled about a month ago, to brush up on her waltz for her wedding, and it seems she was finally able to convince her fiancé to join her. You recall his name to be Nero if memory serves you right. As they move towards the registry table you notice that the happy couple didn’t come alone. A woman close behind them is grinning mischievously as she follows the couple. You raise your eyebrow quizzically as you see her cowboy boots, jean shorts, several tattoos and…is that a tool belt? You blink your eyes in disbelief as another figure suddenly appears beside the odd group.

Where the hell did he come from? You ponder as you take in the fierce presence of a man that appears to be their guest as well. He was tall, pale, and every bit as stoic as you can get without being called stone. His attire was out of the ordinary for today’s standards. A dark blue coat with light blue embroidery and three coattails, a blue formal vest, black pants, and boots with several straps. It was striking, but you had to admit he pulls it off. You couldn’t help to admire his long legs, noticing their strength and elegance as he strides purposefully towards the table.

I wouldn’t mind feeling those legs guide me on the dance floor, you thought suggestively to yourself as he comes to a halt at the group. Now that he’s a bit closer you can get a good look at his facial features. His white hair is swept up out of his face, showcasing one the most handsome faces you’ve ever seen. It reminded you of the marble statues of ancient times, every angle and contour carefully carved into a masterpiece. You’ve touched one of those statues once. It was cold to the touch, and soft as satin. By the way he carries himself, he seems to be calm, cool, and you absently wonder if he’s also soft as satin.

While the rest of the eccentric group talks with the instructor at the table the white haired gentleman, who you guess must be related to Kyrie’s fiancé since their hair color is similar, steps to the side and observes the room. His head slowly turns as his eyes inspect the room, his face expressing no emotion as he surveys his surroundings. You know you should look away before his eyes makes their way to where you stand, but how could you tear your gaze from a work of art? Besides, its not like he’ll notice one lone woman staring among the crowd…

His eyes sweep over to where you stand. Suddenly, he pauses and his intense gaze directs all their attention at one corner…right where you’re standing. He’s staring straight at you. A small shiver rushes through your body as you gasp out a shuddering breath. His captivating silver eyes pin you down and you don’t dare move, afraid that if you do the moment will be lost. Outside distractions seem to fade, your mind no longer registering the classical music and the company of dancing bodies. All of your focus is on the white haired gentleman, whose face has now molded itself into scowl. Great…he’s probably wondering why a weird woman is gaping at him with no sense of decency. You were caught red handed and you should just break eye contact, walk away while picking up what was left of your dignity.

But you don’t. For some reason, your gut tells you to stand your ground. You feel that this staring contest is a test…as to what its testing you for, you have no idea. So, you remain trapped by his gaze, lifting your chin little in defiance and hope its convincing enough to relay the message that he doesn’t intimidate you. The scowl lifts off his face as he regards you in curiosity. I guess I passed? A pleased grin graces your lips and you tilt your head to the side in a teasing manner, inviting whatever trouble this man has in store for you.

The white haired gentleman moves his elegant legs, his eyes never straying from your form as he approaches you. Your heart begins to beat faster in anticipation. While you wait for the walking work of art to arrive you let your eyes drift all over his body. You get the impression that he likes to be in charge, which suits you fine as long as he proves to be a good lead. You can practically feel his eyes roam over your body as he reaches you and halts just out of your personal space. He silently stands there for a moment, the blue hue in his silver eyes shining as he studies you up close. You raise your eyebrow questioningly as you slightly pop your hip out in mild amusement. If he thinks he can keep me waiting...well, he’s in for a rude awakening.

“Is this where you impress me, or should I find someone else to dance with?”

Your shrewish voice seems to knock him out of his thoughts as his eyes focus on your face. He stares down at you with a bewildered expression on his face and that makes you grin triumphantly as you wait for his response. A few seconds of silence pass before he does something that takes you off guard…he laughs. The sardonic timber echoes in the air as he steps within your personal space and bows down. His height towers over you as he presents his hand. Then, in a confident and very sensuous voice, he asks the question you’ve been longing to hear since arriving here.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

You place your hand into his open palm, giving him a sultry glare. “And who do I have the pleasure of following into a dance?”

“Vergil. And who do I have the pleasure of leading into a dance?” he requests in turn as he leads you to the dance floor. You give him your name as he pulls you close, preparing you for a waltz. You’re so close that you can feel his chest vibrate as he hums, repeating your name softly. “So that is the name of my temptress…well, let’s see if you can truly dance with the devil, my lady.”

Either this man is extremely confident in himself or very arrogant, you mused as your body reacts to his words, a warm tingle runs down your spine as the dance begins. He proves to be an excellent dancer, masterfully leading you into a refined Viennese waltz. He knows exactly when to be direct and when to be subtle with his body. You find yourself easily following him, enjoying the rush of adrenaline dancing with a dashing stranger.

For the rest of the evening you spend all your time with Vergil. Your conversations with him are vague, both of you wordlessly acknowledging that you want to live in the mystery of each other for as long as possible. And the dancing…he leads you into a couple more waltzes, but its when you goad him in a tango that your attraction for this man ramps up. You thought he was reluctant to tango because he didn’t know the steps, but you were quickly proven wrong when he kept up with you on the dance floor. That’s when you decide to up the stakes in this little game between the two of you. Alluring glances out of the corner of your eye as he guides you across the floor. Sensual caresses across his chest, waist, and arms as you follow his lead.

And by the way his actions become more demanding you knew he took notice…and he mercilessly reciprocates. The next tango is full of his suggestive touches and intense gazes. His warm fingers teasingly stroke your waist, neck, and legs. His strong arms hold you close as he effortlessly lifts you in the air. And his long elegant legs brush you constantly. When he slips his knee high between your thighs and slides it across your skin, the heat of his body making your slick heat quiver…you come to the decision to tempt this man straight to your bed.

When one of the instructors announces that the last dance of the night is about to commence you lean up and whisper into Vergil’s ear. “As much as I want to dazzle everyone with one last dance…I’d rather have you all to myself.” You step away from him and raise a suggestive eyebrow at him. “Show me what you’re really capable of, Vergil. Follow me…and don’t hold back.” You give him the best come hither look you can muster, hoping that you’ve enticed him enough before turning your back and walking away from him, grabbing your clutch purse as you go through a side door.

Being one of the top students here gives you some privileges…such as a key to a private dance room. The butterflies in your stomach get stronger with each step down the hall. You can’t shake the slight worry that he won’t follow, thinking you too forward and rejecting your offer. But the way he looks at you, talks to you, touches you…you feel certain that he’ll follow, if not to dance then…well, you’re open minded and quick to adapt. That’s what makes you great dancer after all.

Light footsteps reverberate through the hall behind you. You turn your head and see Vergil close behind you, fierce eyes piecing right through you. His smooth gait reminds you of a predator stalking their prey and you relish the idea letting him catch you, but only after he gives you a good chase. Exhilaration overtakes the butterflies in your stomach as you reach the door to the private room. As you place the key in the doorknob you feel the dominate presence of Vergil enclose around you, stealing your breath away as his lips brush against your neck.

“You play with fire…still think you can handle the heat?” he murmurs as he drags his lips to your ear, making you shiver at his chilling touch.

You turn the knob and open the door. “It’s the heat that makes me thrive,” you reply calmly as you gesture for him to come in. When he steps though you close the door and lock it before looking back at him with fiery conviction gleaming in your eyes.

“Light me up, Vergil.”

You seductively strut past him to the corner of the room where a phone speaker sits on a table . A deep rumbling purr emanates in the air as Vergil follows behind, no doubt enjoying the view of your shapely behind. You make sure to really rock your hips, adding to the already splendid bounce of your ass. You’ve managed to somehow make it this far, and you’re going to make damn sure you have your way with this cocky man…hook, line, and sinker.

Vergil growls and you feel his strong hands grab your arms, pulling your back to his chest. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, making you shiver in delight. “Brazen temptress,” he remarks, pressing his hips to your body. You feel the distinct bulge of his arousal against your butt. You almost break down and turn around to end this game, but you stick to your task, determined to go through what you have planned. You shrug him off and continue on, taking your phone out and hooking it into the speakers. You make sure it has the song you want queued up, putting it on repeat just in case. Once everything was in place you turn to face a tantalizing sight.

Vergil has removed his signature coat, revealing his bare arms. Seeing a bit more of his skin gives you tingles in all the right places. His gloves are also gone. Those calloused hands are slightly twitching as his side, preparing to enact whatever you bring. You bite your lip and lower your eyes as you lean forward a bit, hands clasped behind your back as you shamelessly show off your ample cleavage.

“Would you do me the honor in joining me in a tango, sir?” you request playfully.

Vergil hums appreciatively. “How could I say no to such a riveting display?”

You don’t even try to hide the delighted smirk that appears on your lips. Turning slightly you swipe at your phone as Vergil makes his way to the center of the room. He stands patiently facing the mirrored wall, a fine example of grace and prowess. You hurriedly join him, getting in close behind him and put both hands on his back as the beginning of the song plays. You wait a moment before sliding one of your hands around until it rests on his chest, fingers spread wide as you slightly dig your nails into his vest. His own hand comes up to rest on it, warm and rough as his fingers curl in between yours as the words of the song plays through the air.

Show me how

Show me how you like it done

You're all mine

I'll make you feel like you're the one

Your hand slowly withdraws and Vergil leans to the side, as if to follow your smooth touch. Your body shifts around to his side, your lustful eyes meeting his as he leads you in a soft twirl and brings your back to his chest. One of his hands presses on your abdomen while the other glides up your side, stopping just short of your cupping your breast. Your mouth opens as you let out a sigh of pleasure, extending both arms out to the side as you ready for his next move.

Take off your clothes

Give me your trust

Look me in the eyes and confess your lust

His body leads you to the side and you let him spin you in that direction, snapping you still after one step. His arm encircles your back as you grasp that arm, your other free hand brings itself to back of his neck. Vergil rests his forehead upon yours, his fervent gaze meeting yours as you nuzzle your nose against his and both your lips are but a breath apart. In the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of this delectable image in the mirror. It takes all your willpower to not let out a wanton moan as desire flows through you.

Get on your knees

Beg me to stop

I promise I'll love you if you do it

So do it for me

Your rub your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck as he steps into a contra check, changing your direction as you leisurely twirl with him until he pauses your body beside him. He rests his hand against your rib cage, his thumb grazes the underside of your breast. Your breath shutters as you feel yourself give in to this arduous haze. His arm behind your back gently pushes you forward, commanding you to take a couple steps as he comes in close. Once again his face is unbearably close. You can feel his steady breath against your mouth. His hand on your rib cage slides up, barely cupping your breast. As he continues past your breast his thumb firmly brushes against your nipple, causing you to whimper softly.

The corners of Vergil’s mouth turn up in a smug grin. Shooting him a frustrated glare, you decide you about had it with him being a big tease. Time to show him why I dared to dance with the devil, you thought mischievously as you wait for your opening. The sneaky hand that made you whimper reaches the underside of your arm. He extends his touch, caressing every inch of skin, before ending at your hand. He bends his knees slightly, you following his lead as he slinks to the side and fully grasps your hand in his. As you both straighten up, you bring your face in just a tad bit closer, seizing your chance at payback. You open your mouth and let your tongue peek out, the tip swiping across Vergil’s pouty lips. He bares his teeth and snarls. He jerks your body even closer, your chest meeting his as he positions you both for his next move. His silver eyes glare down at you, warning you to behave…or else. You know the music is about to pick up the pace, so you ready yourself for a spirited ride.

The air around you ignites as he leads you into a fast paced tango, his legs showing no mercy as your high heels keep up with their stride. You gave just as much as you got though, completely in sync with each other as he guides you passionately across the floor. You close your eyes, giving him total control as you just bask in the moment. The firm grasp of his hands as they direct you wherever he wants. The gentle caress of his hips as they slightly rock with his movements. The titillating stroke of his thigh between your legs on occasion. Vergil was cool and reserved when you first met him, but now…he was extremely zealous in this dancing, setting your body aflame with lust.

Give me your hand

I'll show you things you've never done

Hold my head

I'll make you feel like never before

Even in your delirious stupor you admire his technique; so precise and controlled as your bodies move as one. If this is how he is with his clothes on…you couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for you at the end of this thrilling game. Your eyes flutter open as both your bodies spin, and he continues to lead you in a few more as he stands stationary. His hand on your back signals you to stop and he dips you down to his knee, his glorious legs spread wide to accommodate your body. In turn you grandly extend your arm out, showing off your sexy red dress as your daring leg lunges out. A sultry grin pulls at your lips, enjoying the rush of elation that wafts through you. As your about to be lifted back to your feet your eyes catch the reflection in the mirror.

Vergil isn’t looking down at you as you sensually stretch your body. He’s looking up…at the mirror. Jaw clenched, mouth partially open as he harshly breaths, and his eyes are practically glowing as they roam your body. Pleasure surges through your body as you witness for the first time a slip in his controlled façade. It’s very sexy and you want nothing more than to pull his face down and kiss him senseless. But your in it to win it. So, you decide to test his resolve once more. You show off your slender neck as you raise your hand up to it and stroke your skin all the way down your chest while letting your mouth drop open in ecstasy.

Take off your clothes

Give me your trust

Look me in the eyes and confess your lust

Suddenly, he forcefully lifts to your feet and pulls your backwards, a hard chest colliding with your back. Vergil takes your hand and encircles it around you as his lips come to your ear, pressing lightly as they descend down to your neck. You feel his lips smirk against your quickening pulse as his tongue comes out to taste your skin. This time you don’t even try to stop the soft groan that leaves your lips. His arousal is very evident as you instinctively rub your bottom against his hips. Vergil hisses and nibbles at your neck as he spreads your arms out, rocking his hips forward to indicate where he wants you to step. God damn tease! you thought exasperatedly, but you also had to applaud his tenacity. You can feel yourself slipping, but you press on, not wanting to give in just yet.

Get on your knees

Beg me to stop

I promise I'll love you if you do it

So do it for me

Just as you take a step away from him you feel him follow, lingering for just a moment before leading you in a twirl back to his side. You raise your hands gracefully above your head, doing a couple more turns before coming to a halt in Vergil’s arms with a sudden snap. His body is as close as it can get, the bulge in his pants now against your hip. You feel his fingers fondle your waist as he lowers his head atop yours. His eyes are half closed, darkening with desire as he unabashedly looks at your lips. As your hands lower onto his sculpted arms, you tilt your head up as far as you can. You stare up at him desperately as you offer your lips, seeking some relief from the hot tension that’s been steadily rising since the start of this dance.

Vergil lowers his head until his lips are but a scant breath away from your mouth. His eyes peer into yours, gleaming as his lips firmly brush against yours own. You hum your appreciation at this long awaited moment, eagerly kissing back as his hands come up to your arms. Instead of deepening the kiss he infuriatingly bends his knees, intending to continue on with the dance. You weakly whine in protest, but a low rumbling growl alerts you that he will not be swayed. His lips sadly leave you as he guides you once more, his steps even more demanding than the last time.

You follow him…except this time you don’t let him have all the reins. To show your displeasure at his torturous teasing you decide to put more emphasis on your legs. Specifically, taking advantage of the split seam of your dress. You spread your legs wider than necessary, showing off your skimpy panties in a risqué manner every so often. Normally this action would be a waste, but with the mirrored wall…there’s a chance that Vergil can’t resist checking out the reflection. By the way his movements start to be more domineering and the distinct cadence of harsh breathing he was indeed noticing your very sheer panties.

Say my name

All I wanna do is hear you scream in pain

Say my name

I promise I'll love you if you do it

So do it for me

After a couple more flashes of your clothed sex, Vergil abruptly pauses and you can see fire in his eyes. Not so fun when its turned on you now, is it? You just keep the routine going, trusting that he’ll support you as you give him a naughty smile, bending your back in a full arch towards the mirror. You can see yourself there, hair dangling wildly and your breasts boldly displayed for only his eyes to feast on. This rewards you a guttural grunt and you can’t help to feel accomplished at finally hearing him let loose.

In the mirror you can now see his face openly showing his ravenous desire. His hand slides down behind you and grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it as he grinds his hips into you. A sharp dart of pleasure shoots through you as a gasp escapes your lips. You gradually lift your body back up to him and purposely sift your fingers through his hair, hoping that it will be enough for him to finally give in and have his way with you. No such luck. All he does his scoff indignantly and twist you around, determined to endure until the end.

You huff in agitation, but also refuse to back down as well. The song is nearing its end, blasting its erotic beat as Vergil holds nothing back in this explosive finale. He swirls you around relentlessly around the floor, using his body to support you sporadically as your feet flicker and kick in the air. At one point he displays his strength when he wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up, and flips your body up onto his shoulders. You let the momentum carry you as your legs swing around behind his neck, trusting him to carry you through this stunt. His arms expertly catch you and immediately he twirls you a few times before ending in a triumphant dip.

Holy shit. You are so aroused that you couldn’t stand it anymore. Your body goes limp as Vergil picks you back up carefully, having no more energy to go on in this state. He gently cradles your head and lifts it to examine your face with scrutiny. You breath is rapid, your breasts straining against your dress as they rose and fell in time with your breath. At this point you probably look totally flushed and sweaty from the sexual intensity of the dance. But at this point you didn’t care. You needed this man to kiss you, to touch you…to fuck you so badly. This whole scenario was your idea, confronting him about this obvious attraction you both have for each other and doing something about it. He’s responded above and beyond expectations spectacularly at this point, but you feel that you’re at the point of no return. All you can do is hope that the risk was worth it…and await his next move.

Vergil traps you in a vice grip close to his body. His hand angles your head up and you notice that his face is immobile, but his hooded eyes shine with satisfaction. He leans in and captures your lips ferociously, making you cry out in delight as your arms wrap around his neck. His tongue instantly demands your mouth to open and you comply, enjoying the taste of black tea and mint as he explores every corner of your mouth, leaving no place untouched by him.

Distracted by his heavy kisses you didn’t notice his hand leave the back of your head until you felt a soft smack on your butt. You release a muffle moan against his mouth, encouraging him with a small bite on his bottom lip. He merely grumbles and proceeds to mercilessly make out with you. His sly hand creeps down over the curve of your ass, its path unyielding as it slides over the backside of your thigh. He prompts you to lift your leg with a slight squeeze of his fingers. You groan meekly as you do as your told, his hand holding it in place before slipping down over your knee and extending the rest of your leg out. He abruptly pulls his mouth away from yours, ignoring your cry of protest as he holds your foot high in the air. He then moves his body in a way that tells you he wants to turn you away, and to keep your leg up as you sweep it around.

He’s still trying to finish the dance…what a handsome, insufferable man. You sigh and shake your head in disbelief, but you didn’t want to disappoint him. So, you spin your back to him, making sure to really show off your lovely leg. When your back is completely flat with his chest Vergil bends your leg backwards around his waist as he lowers his body as if he was dipping you. This stretches your body in a pleasing pose, open and reliant on his arms to keep you steady. You happen to notice that you're facing the mirror, and its only then that you realize what he’s done. His expression is pure sin as his hands quickly shoot across your body. One hand gropes a breast while the other glides over your delicate center. You gasp out, unable to move away as he strokes your damp panties at an agonizing pace. All you could do is moan and watch all this unfold in the mirror, completely at this wicked man’s mercy.

A husky chuckle sounds close to your ear. “My, my…all this for me?” Vergil softly scoffs as his hand speeds up slightly, emphasizing the slickness in which they move. You whimper as you try to move your hips to ease the pressure, but its no use; he’s got you right where he wants you. You feel a hum vibrate against your ear. In the mirror you see Vergil nibble on your ear, making you twitch against him as his hand completely cups your sex. His eyes catch yours in the mirror and he grins smugly.

“Look at you…wet, wanton…and all mine,” he grumbles and bites down on your neck, sucking it hard as he marks you. You gasp out in pain, but the fingers on your wet panties tease you, rubbing close to your hot clothed entrance which eases the pain into rough pleasure.

“Ah…Vergil…please…I need…ah!” You plea softly, hoping that he either gives you release with that wonderful hand of his or tears your clothes off and fucks you senseless.

Vergil releases your neck and whispers in your ear. “Your begging pleases me…so, what does my temptress want, hmm? Tell me…hold nothing back. And perhaps I’ll reward you with what you desire.”

You take a shaky breath and find his eyes in the mirror, making sure you have his attention as you voice all the things you’ve wanted to do to him since you’ve first met. “I want to see you naked. I want to run my hands up and down your legs as I suck your cock. I want to taste you…fuck you…please, Vergil! I need-”

Suddenly Vergil straightens his form, taking you with him as he forcefully turns you around to face him and slams his lips against yours. His arms squeeze you against his chest as he lifts your feet off the floor and props his thigh in between your legs. The sudden hard friction against your aching center makes you moan in sweet relief, your hips rocking subconsciously as you sought out any kind of release. You didn’t care if your looked like an animal rutting in heat…it felt too good for you to care at the moment.

Vergil���s keen eyes took notice of your subtle humping of his leg and one hand reaches behind you, expecting him to halt your movements…but instead he guides your hips as he presses his thigh closer to you. You can feel every indention of his pants and the smooth shift of his muscled leg. Your mouth leaves him as a stunning moan escapes your lips. It felt absolutely delicious, but you could feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment. This also didn’t escape his notice as a wicked laugh leaves his devilish lips.

“A truly salacious sight! Playing coy while finding pleasure on my thigh…does it feel good? Pleasuring yourself on my leg?” he asks as he grinds against you to add extra friction. You whine and nod your head, desperately trying to hold back from reaching your peak. But he continues to rock your hips against his thigh, and at this rate you’ll explode before any of your clothes come off. Vergil bends his head down against yours, his eyes fixate on your face as he spoke in a low, rumbling tone. “Don’t wait. Show me what my temptress looks like when she’s in the throes of passion.” Your eyes widen in shock at his words, your vulgar hips slowing a bit. Vergil huffs in displeasure and presses you closer to his leg. Taking the hint that he really meant it…you vigorously rub yourself on his thigh, letting go of all reservations and just give in to his naughty demand. All the tension that’s built up since meeting this man is coming to a head. You can hear Vergil’s labored breath as he watches, enraptured by watching you pleasure yourself on his leg.

“That’s right,” he mutters, spurring you on with his deep sensuous voice. “Come on.”

Vergil’s soft command is all it takes to finally bring you over the threshold. Your body tenses as you cry out in fervor, no longer caring that you got off on a man’s thick thigh. You vaguely register your dress being unzipped and a warm hand cupping your breast, a calloused thumb circling your nipple as it prolongs your high. Your hands clutch onto Vergil’s vest urgently, making sure that you were secure as a shiver runs through body. It makes your toes curl in your heels and your legs twitch as you slow your hips, letting the pleasurable wave carry you before it recedes and you float back down to reality.

When you come to your senses your open eyes and see Vergil staring down at you with awe. “Now that…was a ravishing show,” he marvels as he fully takes your dress off up over your head. “Worthy of applause…” He removes his thigh, the obvious slickness of your orgasm shining on his pants. You feel your cheeks blush as Vergil takes a finger and swipes some of it. “And an encore.” He brings that finger to his mouth and sucks, moaning softly at the taste of you.

You bite your lip and tilt your head to the side as you trail your hand down your body, pulling on the skimpy strap of your panties and snapping them back against your hip. This entices Vergil into action as he steps up close to you and grabs your hands, placing them on his still clothed chest. “Remove all my clothing and get on your knees,” he orders fiercely, making you shiver in anticipation as your fingers swiftly undid the buttons of his vest. You peel it away to reveal his well toned chest, and it takes everything in you to not reach out and feel every muscle. You kneel down and unbuckle his boots, removing them as he lifts each foot for you.

That only left him in his pants. As you undo the clasp at his waist you gaze up at Vergil, silently thanking him for letting you indulge in your fantasy. He smirks and his fingers caress your cheek, thumb coming up to your bottom lip and brushing it tenderly. You open your mouth and gently suck his thumb in, giving him a preview of what is to come. His lips curl up in a quiet snarl as your hands begin to pull his pants down with his underwear, your fingers caressing every inch of his legs you can get to on the way. His cock pops free and you can’t help to pause and admire its impressive size. You hear Vergil laugh, its cocky cadence echoing throughout the room.

“Eager to suck my cock and taste greatness?” he inquires boldly as he raises an eyebrow at you. You finish removing his pants and look back up at him, flashing him an impish grin as you blow a bit of air on the white hair trailing down to your prize. He hisses and grabs a handful of your hair, holding you still as he lightly palms his erection.

“Mmm…if you want me to taste greatness then you better hurry and shove that glorious cock of yours in my mouth,” you remark playfully. Vergil scoffs and releases your hair, his eyes gesturing for you to proceed with your dirty deed. You scoot a bit closer and make good on your claim, sliding your hands all over his calves and thighs. One of your hands gently grabs the base of his cock, holding it steady as you take your first lick on the tip. A pearl of precum spreads across your tongue and you moan at the taste. Cool and salty…just like the man standing before you.

You lavish every inch of his cock in earnest with your tongue, getting him ready for the warm cavern of your mouth. A long rumbling growl lets you know that he’s feeling good. His fingers are back in your hair, stroking your scalp encouragingly as you worship him. You suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue all round his head. Vergil grunts openly, not longer trying to retrain himself. You open your mouth and take in as much of him as you can, and begin to lazily suck his cock. His fingers massage your head enthusiastically and his breathing becomes staccato. Your eyes flicker over to the mirror and see his face the picture of total rapture. This makes your body heat up, seeing this man so relaxed…and it was all thanks to you.

Feeling motivated to really impress him you prepare to blow his mind. Your hands trail down his thigh, nails slightly scratching his skin as you open your throat and take all of him down to the base before quickly withdrawing to the tip. Vergil gasps above you, the muscles of his legs going taunt as his fingers grip your hair roughly. You do this a few more times, working your throat for his size before grasping his ass with both hands. Your eyes drift back to the mirror as you bury his entire length into your mouth, stopping at the base and suck hard. Vergil’s head falls back as a groan bursts from his lips and he growls when you start to gently thrust your mouth against his cock. His eyes again meet the mirror and you both watch as you do your damn best to drive him crazy. Your nipples harden and your slick heat aches as you feel the skin of his cock growing taunt, a sign that he’s close to release. You moan and once again your hips subconsciously rock to ease the tension. Vergil rubs your hair as he pointedly looks you in the eye in the mirror.

“Bring yourself pleasure once more. Let me hear how much you love the taste of my cock,” he commands.

You don’t have to be told twice. You bring one hand down to your core and slip it beneath your soaked panties. Remembering that Vergil is watching you in the mirror you balance yourself on your heels and provocatively spread your legs wide, making sure he sees you energetically rub yourself. You don’t last too long as you feel your body quickly respond to such an erotic sight. Your let your muffled scream ring out as you come again, almost missing the distinct quiver of his cock about to release. His guttural snarl signals you to prepare for his seed as it gushes into your mouth. You swallow every single drop, humming as you savor this man’s unique taste.

When his cock has no more seed to give you slowly remove your mouth, careful not to scratch him with your teeth now that he’s growing soft again. You settle down on your knees and rest your head on his hip as your arms hug his legs for balance. Vergil’s hand is still in your hair, gently petting your head as his labored breaths start to even out. In the mirror you see him staring calmly down at you. His hand cradles your head and lifts it up so he can see your face. Smoldering silver eyes with flickering blue hues take in your messy hair, swollen lips, and shaking body. You stare back up at your dancing devil and grin mischievously.

“So, did I truly dance with the devil?” you ask as your hands knead his thighs.

“Mmm…you are a bewitching vision on the dance floor, my lady,” he says with a charming grin. You beam up at him as he helps you to your feet. You sigh in relief to be off your knees as Vergil pulls you close, his bare chest against your sensitive nipples as he kisses you softly. You instantly respond and let him deepen it, the heated rush of before gone and replaced with lazy strokes of the tongue. When he breaks away you take the opportunity to voice the inevitable.

You tilt your head questioningly. “Well, that was the best dance I’ve ever had, but…now what?”

Vergil’s brow furrows in deep thought and for the first time since meeting him…he looks hesitant. “I am uncertain. I normally don’t indulge in spontaneous trysts.”

You squint your eyes in amusement. “Spontaneous trysts? That’s the fanciest way to say one night stand I have ever heard,” you giggle softly as your hands rub his smooth chest.

Vergil leers down at you mockingly as his hand spanks your bottom. “If you know what the proper etiquette is for this social situation then by all means…enlighten me.”

You bite your lip to hide your gleeful smile. “I don’t know if I would call it etiquette...but you just need figure out if you and your partner want to continue to see each other. If we decide to end it here and go about our separate ways, then we take the lovely memories of each other with us and recall them fondly when we’re lonely…but…” Your voice trails off as you slide your hands around his neck, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “The night is still young and as much as I love idea of letting you have your way with me standing in front of that mirror…my heels are killing my feet.”

You take a step back and look Vergil directly in the eye. “Come home with me. I have music, wine, and enough space for more dancing if it suits you.” Your eyes pointedly glance over at the mirror. “I also happen to have a mirror…right above my bed.”

Vergil has you back in his arms in an instant. He growls as he grinds his hips against you, his slightly hardening cock rubbing against your sheer panties. “You would invite the devil into your bed? Well, well…you truly are a brave temptress.”

You moan softly and give him a peck on his cheek. “I just know what I want…and I want you, Vergil,” you whisper as you wait for his answer. His fingers dig into your hips for a moment before he captures your lips in a heated kiss, igniting your desire once more. When he pulls away you see can practically see the dark promise of pleasure gleaming in his eyes.

“Allow me to lead the way out, my lady.”

Both of you help each other get dressed, once again letting your touches linger in your renewed game of seduction. Once you had all your belongings gathered you notice that Vergil is now holding what looks to be a katana. You raise your eyebrow quizzically, not really knowing how you haven’t noticed it until now, but you just shrug it off because its not strangest thing to see around here. As you head towards the door Vergil stops you and directs you to stand behind him. You are about to ask him why when he unsheathes his sword and swiftly cuts a cross in the air. As he sheaths his sword with a disciplined flourish, a blue light suddenly lights up the room as reality seems to rip open a portal before you. All you could do is stare dumbfounded at this display of power as Vergil turns to you and offers his arm to you. His nonchalance about the whole thing snaps you out of your astonished daze and you look at him incredulously as you take his arm.

Vergil lets out a cocky laugh. “I hope you’re prepared, my temptress.” He leans down and his low tenor voice whispers in your ear. “Because I won’t be leaving your bed until you’re bargaining for your sweet release and screaming my name.”

Once again he sets your body aflame as you finally realize that he must one of the prolific demon hunters of Red Grave City. Well shit…I really did dance with the devil! Vergil flashes you a devilish grin before leading you through the miraculous portal, towards whatever sinful games he has planned for you. You wrap yourself around his arm, pressing your breasts against him and looking up at him with hunger in your eyes.

How can you not resist another dance with this handsome devil?

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