#reblog for the sunday night crew

[bluelockhalloweek]

Your Blue Lock Halloweek 2024 prompts are here!

👻 Reblog with your favorites prompts & share with your Blue Lock crew!

👻 Find the event on Twitter @/BllkHalloweek

👻 See below for more info, typed-out prompts, & prompt examples if you need clarification or inspiration

👻 If you would like to volunteer to translate prompts so more people can join the Halloween Party, go here!

👻 Original fanart by Qoffee51 (twt | insta) and graphic design by @suosage (​​twt)!

👻 Feel free to mix and match, and take prompts as literally or as tangentially as you want!

👻 Work doesn’t have to be specifically Fall / Halloween themed as long as it fits a prompt. (If you’re writing a Wild West fic for “Cowboy,” don’t feel like you have to stick a 🎃 in a corner unless you want to.)

👻 Work can be as lighthearted, scary, or spicy as you want as long as you follow the guidelines!

👻 Find the 2024 event Archive of Our Own Collection here!

👻 The event is hosted on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3, so share your contribution on all three!

👻 Thank you to everyone who submitted prompts! Credit to @/unhingednagi who suggested "Dance with the Devil" (😈) & the several anons who suggested an undead/resurrection 🧟‍♂️ theme. A lot of other suggestions were already on the longer list or were very similar, or might be better saved for another year. If your favorite isn’t on the list, it's perfect for “Free Prompt”!

👻 Did you like last year's prompts? Use as many as you want on Day Five for Free Prompt!

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Blue Lock Halloweek 2024 Prompts (Oct. 28 - Nov. 3, 2024)

Monday Oct. 28: Pumpkin Spice + Dance with the Devil  

Tuesday Oct. 29: Myth + Resurrection  

Wednesday Oct. 30: Whisper + Scream

Thursday Oct. 31: Sugar Rush + Haunted

Friday Oct. Nov. 1: Incantation + Free Prompt!

Saturday Nov. 2: Festival + Instinct

Sunday Nov. 3: Space + Cowboy

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Prompt Examples + Explanations 

I’ve had people ask for prompt examples in past events I’ve hosted and this event is open to any language, so here you go! These are the quick brainstorming notes I took while narrowing down the list, now expanded with links & definitions. These are only some of maaaany interpretations—go wild!

Your host is a fic-writer with ADHD, so…you’ve been warned.

🎃 Day 1: 

Pumpkin Spice: Cozy Autumn vibes. Putting up Halloween decorations, carving Jack-o-lanterns, coffee / tea shop, pumpkin patch, scented candles, baking, fall sangria, sweaters and beanies and flannels, momijigari (Autumn Hanami 🌸, basically) / admiring gorgeous fall foliage, fresh hot apple cider in an orchard. Itoshi Bros and their love of turtle/mock-neck sweaters. Pumpkin Farmer Aiku and Karasu scarecrow!

Dance with the Devil: Defined. To dance with the devil is to engage in risky, reckless, or potentially immoral behavior. Or going out dancing; Demon and priest, hell, listening to the angel or the devil on your shoulder (making a questionable decision because it’s tempting), devilish fun or spells, sin, temptation, a deal with the devil. Ohhh, Sae and Shidou, your night has come! 😈 (Suggested by unhingednagi) 

🎃 Day 2:

Myth: Myths or legends from any culture or time period. Greek, Roman, Japanese, Egyptian, etc.!! Gods and mythical creatures and beasts. Dionysus or Eros or Apollo Shidou; Persephone and Hades, so many! Hercules Kunigami!

Resurrection: reincarnation, zombies (Lorenzo!), waking up a vampire or werewolf after being bitten; …having a little too much fun on Halloween and having to pull oneself together the next day (sugar hangover, ...hangover-hangover). (Suggested by several anons!)

🎃 Day 3:

Whisper: soft voices, trying not to be caught/found/discovered, whispering a secret, whispering something spicy, hearing voices. 

Scream: screaming in fear or excitement or…; calling out for someone. Scary movies, pranks. Awkward meet-cute. Bachira’s monster. 

🎃 Day 4, Halloween: 

Sugar Rush: the “rush”/“high” or energy you get from eating a bunch of sugar! Trick-or-Treating, candy corn, so much candy, caramel corn; being sweet, a different sort of rush; ..."give me some sugar"

Haunted: Ghosts, spirit entities like yokai, strange noises in the night. GhostBusters, Ghost Adventures. Gagamaru as a friendly Yokai! Shaman. Possession, possessed or cursed objects. JJK. Ouija board game! Monk Igaguri. Real or funhouse haunted house, ghost stories; being haunted by the past; being possessed or haunted. The twisty, creepy aura thing Rin gets.

🎃 Day 5: 

Incantation: a set of words that could be a sort of incantation / magic words, any type of magic, witches, wizards, curses, Ness the Magician, Harry Potter, Quiditch, Lord of the Rings, crystal ball, tarot. Wands, spells, magical objects, magical creatures, etc.. Making a wish. Non-literal magic words in relationships (saying / hearing just the right thing). 

Free Prompt: Whatever Halloween stuff you want that doesn’t quite fit a prompt. The day to use any of last year’s prompts! 

Just listing some of the things I would draw (if I could) or write (if I had time): Video game au for Hiori! Little French imp Charles as the Joker or a jester. Pokemon! Barou as the “Cowardly” Lion in the Wizard of Oz. And finally, artists, if you’re reading this, please, please consider Noel Noa (of the 🇫🇷 French National 🥖 Team!!) dressed as Bonjour Man from Life Lessons with Uramichi Onii-san (clip, manga cap). This is my second year making this wish. This image has literally been haunting me since starting this event and the manga/anime (even the dub!) is soooo funny. And technically, Bonjour Man is a cursed spirit sooo 👻

🎃 Day 6: 

Festival: String lights illuminating festival stalls, costumes, traditional attire (Aryu looking stylish!), food and drink, games, Isagi devouring fried fair food. Fall Music festival. Mid-Autumn Festival (with all the pretty lanterns and mooncakes 🥮), Harvest / Fall Fests in general. Bobbing for apples, caramel / candy apples, carnival rides and games, Ferris wheel, corn maze. Oktoberfest; Kaiser and/or any Bastard München player in Lederhosen—please, I’m begging!! Fun house / haunted house. Day of the Dead festivities. 

Instinct: fight or flight, fear, instinct to hunt like vampires, instinct to save someone, instinctively drawn to someone, instinct to grab someone’s hand or hide behind them; that gut feeling that it’s time to leave a place. Hairs on arms raising, chills going down one's spine, one's whole body trying to tell one something.

🎃 Day 7: 

Space: All things celestial. Nightfall. Stars and moon, werewolves, moonlight, Tsukimi / moon viewing + Tsukimi dango 🎑, celestial myths and gods. Stars, moon, aliens, Star Wars, astronauts, and planetary hotline Isagi and Kurona! Kurona and Isagi planetary hotline. Astrology. Wishing on a star. Fun fact: The Orionid Meteor Shower peaks just before this event starts, the night of Oct. 21-22, and continues until Nov. 7th! Cowboy Bebop.

Cowboy: Not much is wilder than Blue Lock—except maybe The Wild, Wild West. Outlaws, Gunslinger Isagi (see recent manga chapters), sheriffs Aikuuu and Nio, horses, rodeos, Ego and his little football bolo tie in cowboy getup pleaseee, the works, Nagi and his lil Choki cactus. Ego as a gangly cowboy, ⚽️ bolo tie and all.

Okay, that’s it. Hope y'all have fun. Please reblog and spread the word 🧡🖤

PS: ...If y'all want ✨spicy 🔞 prompt inspiration, I could always make a separate post (that would be tagged #spicy; please remember to block that if you're a minor or uninterested in mature themes). Let me know!

[starlightkun]

i do not allow reuploads, reposts, or translations of my works. i cross-post to ao3 and wattpad. i do not take requests. i write for fun and for free. feedback is of course welcome and greatly appreciated, please feel free to send me an ask, reblog, or comment!

if you're looking for a fic and can't find it, check my archive masterlist

PLEASE READ/INCLUSIVITY: unless explicitly stated otherwise in the genre tags, all of my reader-inserts use she/her pronouns, and are commonly referred to with gendered language such as girl, woman, etc. i do not make references to the reader's skin tone. i tend to avoid describing how the reader-insert takes up space (height or size) but if i do, the only members that i may explicitly depict as taller than the reader-insert are those that are 180cm or above (johnny, jaehyun, jungwoo, sungchan, jisung, and maybe sicheng if i'm feeling extra nice)

recent work | recommended work

word count 2024: 244.6k | blog word count: 1.059M

nets: blankjournal

KEY

f - fluff a - angst m - mature/heavy themes (i do not write smut, but not everything here will be appropriate for all ages, proceed with caution and read all warnings provided at the beginning of fics) h - humor/crack fic ✦ - author favorite

the starlightkuniverses

➺ series of multiple fics that take place in the same universe. pick your favorite member or read them all

➺ the strawberry sunday anthology (f, m, h, ✦)

modern magical creatures au, modern fantasy au, college au ── fairy!jungwoo, vampire!kun, werewolf!jeno, dragon!jisung, werewolf!sungchan, human!renjun, and basilisk!mark * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ the ayakashi series (f, a, m)

based off the otome game 'ayakashi romance reborn,' modern yokai au ── tengu!jeno, oni!kun, human!jaehyun, and snow spirit!doyoung * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ sleepless cinderella (f, a, m)

based off wayv's dream launch plan videos and the otome game 'sleepless cinderella' ── pilot!kun, surgeon!ten, actor!sicheng, director!dejun, robotics engineer!kunhang, and f1 racer!yangyang * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

special events

➺ 2023 hallmark movie marathon (f, a)

christmas-themed, new years-themed ── three (and a half) fics with very cheesy hallmark movie-esque premises and tropes for the holiday season, all starring kun * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

qian kun

➺ frankenstein complex (f, m) ── 67.9k

sci-fi, near-ish future, black op mission captain kun, ?????? reader, humans and aliens and robots ── in which the crew of the vision finds you as the sole survivor of a classified research facility and there's more gaps in your memory than memories themselves. on top of that, you've got this weird feeling that the captain of the crew you've found yourself with isn't exactly what he seems... * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ sweet girl (f, m, ✦) ── 53.9k

from the ayakashi series, oni!kun, onmyoji!reader ── in which you have to juggle love, friends, school, and a great evil that could destroy your city * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ romance is dead (f, m, h, ✦) ── 19.4k & 10.3k sequel

part of the strawberry sunday universe, vampire!kun, human!reader, "uh-oh one of us drank a love potion" but with a twist, strangers(ish) to lovers ── in which there’s a mix-up with a love potion, and you're suddenly being courted by a several-hundred-year-old vampire. it's not all sonnets and bouquets, though, as you're keenly aware that kun's love could turn to thirst. and maybe you wouldn't mind if it did * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here | sequel

➺ sleepless cinderella (f, a) ── 11.4k

from the sleepless cinderella series, pilot!kun, journalist!reader ── in which you become your own cinderella one night, with six prince charmings to choose from * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ much mistletoeing about nothing (a, f) ── 7.6k & 1.9k sequel

exes to lovers, christmas-themed, getting snowed in trope, cuddling to share warmth trope ── in which your first mistake was saying yes to christmas dinner with your ex. your second mistake was being late to said christmas dinner. and your third... * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here | sequel

➺ hopeless for the holidays (f) ── 8.7k

strangers to lovers, new years-themed, attorney kun, wedding planner reader, aged up kun & reader (mid/late thirties) ── in which your friend drags you to a singles mixer being thrown by the local bar association, and you're less than thrilled. in between betting her coworker that he won't find someone to kiss by midnight and helping her avoid her ex from law school, you hardly expect to meet someone like qian kun * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ hold my red heart (f) ── 3.4k

christmas-themed, fake dating trope, f2l ── in which you need some help getting rid of a very persistent coworker, and what better way than bringing your boyfriend to the office christmas party? only problem, you don't have a boyfriend. enter kun. * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ [WIP...] the bite (f, a, m)

single dad!kun, single mom!reader, e2l, slice(s) of life ── in which kun's son bites yours at preschool, and you want nothing to do with this 'mr. qian'

kim doyoung

➺ snowflake (f, a, m) ── 75.3k

from the ayakashi series, snow spirit!doyoung, onmyoji!reader ── in which you experience both great love and great loss, and learn how to battle hypothermia * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

ten

➺ sleepless cinderella (f, a, m) ── 13.8k

from the sleepless cinderella series, surgeon!ten, journalist!reader ── in which you become your own cinderella one night, with six prince charmings to choose from * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

jeong jaehyun

➺ s.c.s. (f, m) ── 66.2k

from the ayakashi series, human!jaehyun, onmyoji!reader, childhood friends to lovers ── in which jaehyun's just always been a family friend, the son of your dad's friend. so why are you so nervous around him now? why are you thinking about kissing him so much? and oh yeah, what's up with all those evil wraiths? * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ valentine boy (f) ── 5.0k

rich kid!au, childhood friends to lovers ── in which you’re reunited with your childhood friend and refuse to let him go this time * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

dong sicheng

➺ sleepless cinderella (f) ── 13.5k

from the sleepless cinderella series, actor!sicheng, journalist!reader, fake dating, e2l ── in which you become your own cinderella one night, with six prince charmings to choose from * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

kim jungwoo

➺ strawberry sunday (f, ✦) ── 28.4k

part of the strawberry sunday universe, fairy!jungwoo, human!reader, f2l, one (1) tease and one (1) idiot to lovers, slow burn ── in which you, all your friends, and your stupid massive crush on jungwoo go stay in one beach house together for spring break. you're determined to make it out with your secret in tact. but... has jungwoo always looked at you like that? touched you this much? like that? he can't be... flirting with you? * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ second first kiss (f) ── 2.0k

new year's-themed, model!jungwoo, childhood f2l, drabble, gn!reader ── in which you spend every new year's with your best friend jungwoo. except the past couple years he's missed the target on his friendly new year's peck on the cheek, and you can't get him out of your head now * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ [WIP...] finders keepers (f, m)

sci-fi, alien!jungwoo, human!reader, soulmate au but make it aliens ── in which you've never been good at keeping your nose out of trouble, and a spaceship crashing a few meters away from you is right up your alley. the alien inside claiming that you're his soulmate might finally put you out of your depth, though

mark lee

➺ baby fangs (f) ── 26.7k

part of the strawberry sunday universe, basilisk!mark, sphinx!reader, strangers to lovers, age gap (older reader) ── in which a desperate mark knocks on your door one night when he gets locked out of his friends' apartment, and you get way more than you bargained for in return. you hardly expect that the cute infatuation he displays for you immediately would be anything more; nor that you'd ever find yourself falling for the basilisk and his baby fangs too * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ invested (a, f) ── 23.1k

ft. donghyuck, love triangle, matching tattoo soulmate au ── in which you're convinced that you don't have a tattoo, and that you're in love with lee donghyuck * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

xiao dejun

➺ sleepless cinderella (f) ── 14.4k

from the sleepless cinderella series, director!dejun, journalist!reader, childhood friends to lovers ── in which you become your own cinderella one night, with six prince charmings to choose from * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

wong kunhang

➺ savior (f, h, ✦) ── 24.3k

royal au, prince!kunhang, princess!reader, "you saved me, so now i'm your problem" ── in which you really should've read up on the customs of your neighboring kingdom before visiting * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ sleepless cinderella (f) ── 11.1k

from the sleepless cinderella series, robotics engineer!kunhang, journalist!reader, e2l ── in which you become your own cinderella one night, with six prince charmings to choose from * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

huang renjun

➺ dr_magic2303 (f, h, m) ── 18.3k

part of the strawberry sunday universe, human!renjun, siren!reader, academic rivals to lovers ── in which a mysterious user by the pseudonym of dr_magic2303 starts popping up on your university’s online forums. you’re determined to get to the bottom of their identity, so you decide to enlist the help of your academic rival for the past four years, huang renjun * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

lee jeno

➺ featherbrain (f, m) ── 48.3k

from the ayakashi series, tengu!jeno, onmyoji!reader ── in which you can't believe you've fallen for this stupid, stupid tengu * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ tongue-tied (f) ── 17.4k

strangers to lovers, model!jeno, journalist!reader, reworked version of old sleepless cinderella route ── in which you find yourself getting sucked deeper and deeper into an article in order to ignore the scarily personal part that won't seem to leave you alone * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ pupsick (f, m) ── 11.8k & 8.8k sequel

part of the strawberry sunday universe, werewolf!jeno, human!reader, f2l, bakery au ── in which jeno's sick and insists that you're the only one that can take care of him. but according to your only other werewolf friend, you're also what's making him sick * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here | sequel

lee donghyuck

➺ invested (f, a) ── 23.1k

ft. mark, love triangle, matching tattoo soulmate au ── in which you're convinced that you don't have a tattoo, and that you're in love with lee donghyuck * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

na jaemin

➺ the golden fruit duology (f) ── 32.0k

nades au, hades!jaemin, human!reader, persephone allegory ── in which you think you're trading away a third of your life for your dream job but get much, much more * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

liu yangyang

➺ speedometer (f, ✦) ── 14.1k

street racer!yangyang, college au ── in which you meet someone who sends your heart racing * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ sleepless cinderella (f, a) ── 12.9k

from the sleepless cinderella series, f1 racer!yangyang, journalist!reader ── in which you become your own cinderella one night, with six prince charmings to choose from * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

jung sungchan

➺ buzzer beater series (f, m, ✦) ── 75.1k, completed

college au (and after), hockey captain!sungchan, chronically ill!reader (migraines) ── in which you swear you’re only going to the joint halloween party being hosted by the hockey team and nu chi tau for a few minutes just to say hi to sungchan, but as can be expected with your life, something goes horribly, horribly wrong * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ the soulmate factory (f, a, ✦) ── 28.9k

science fantasy au, soulmate au (red string), star crossed lovers, mystery ── in which you work at The Soulmate Factory, pressing all the buttons when you’re supposed to, changing strangers’ fates. until one day a red string appears on your finger, and you know something has gone horribly wrong. employees of The Soulmate Factory are explicitly barred from participating in the program. on top of hiding it from your coworkers and bosses, you also have to investigate how this even happened and undo it, before you lose your job and before you meet your soulmate * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ changer (f, a) ── 22.3k & 25.5k sequel

part of the strawberry sunday universe, werewolf!sungchan, human!reader, slowish burn, blind date ── in which you and sungchan are set up on a blind date, and it goes terribly. but a chance second meeting could reignite the spark of... friendship? well shit. * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here | sequel

➺ that hot (f) ── 17.2k

meet-ugly, strangers to lovers, forced proximity (long car trip, vacation, etc.) ── in which you first get introduced to sungchan at a friend's party, but you just don't trust guys who are that hot. scene cut, and he's driving you to a cabin in the mountains that your entire friend group will be staying at for two whole weeks. then you miss your exit. then his car gets a flat tire. * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

➺ filler episodes (f) ── 16.6k & 9.5k sequel

band au, drummer!sungchan, normie!reader, badboy x good girl but make it loserboy x girlfail ── in which your whole life has felt like filler episodes, and you're tired of living like that. enter jung sungchan, part-time bookstore worker, part-time tea shop employee, and part-time drummer for a local underground punk band. he's everything you're not, and as soon as he's wedged himself into your life, you find that you don't want him to go * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here | sequel

➺ tourist trapped (f) ── 2.4k

enemies to lovers (or are they...) ── in which your day out at the fair with your friends somehow ends up with you stuck at the top of the ferris wheel with the one person you'd been avoiding, sungchan. but you're not avoiding him for the reason that all your friends think you are... * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

park jisung

➺ [NEW] pur autre vie (a, f, m) ── 26.1k

paranormal/supernatural au, ghost!jisung ── in which you inherit your stepdad's house under the condition that you can live there for as long as you take care of your mother. at first, you think her belief that the house is haunted is just her declining mind playing tricks on her. but the longer you're there, the more you start to think something isn't right... * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here | [WIP...] sequel

➺ the dragon's happily ever after (f, h) ── 17.4k

part of the strawberry sunday universe, dragon!jisung, human!reader, f2l, secret relationship/fake not dating trope ── in which you and jisung sort of forgot to tell your nosy friends that you're dating, but realize it's the perfect opportunity to give them a little taste of their own medicine. they're trying to set you two up, while you're trying to see how long it takes them to notice that you're already dating. cue the shenanigans * :✧˚ ·♡. ─── read here

[jjungkookislife]

Quarterly Fic Recs 2024: #1

Hello! I'm back again with the first fic rec list of 2024! I enjoyed reading these fics, and I hope y'all do as well! Please be mindful of the warnings on each fic and I encourage you to reblog fics you enjoy as well :)

Seokjin

king of tides @sailoryooons

summary: Seokjin meets a ghost of his past when he and his crew stop to celebrate for the evening.

Yoongi

desecrate @hamsterclaw

summary: A fall from grace causes you to stumble into the hands of a demon prince. Inspired by Lilith.

stress relief @dreamescapeswriting

soft Yoongi having a bad day

morals on sundays @/gimmethatagustd

summary: You’re still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

Hoseok

spider web @/sailoryooons

summary: Playing games with vampires is a bad idea. Playing with Spiders is worse.

Namjoon

gang shit @gimmethatagustd

summary: Your daughter’s classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you’re his arch-nemesis.

Jimin

technicolor @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Love is one hell of a drug. Bottled and sold on the black market, it isn’t for the faint-hearted. You’re not really interested in trying it until you meet Jimin.

Taehyung

the one with taehyung's indecent proposal @eoieopda

summary: your fuck buddy’s class reunion is coming up. that’s not something you expected to learn about. it’s definitely not something you expected to be implicated in.

Jungkook

none :(

OT7/Multiple Members

carnival of terror @theharrowing

summary: The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

immortals @bang-tan-bitches

summary: Sometimes, you find your destiny. And sometimes, your destiny does whatever it takes to keep you.

petrichor @purpleyoonn

summary: You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

Seokjin

memories of you @shuadotcom

summary: Your memories with Seokjin are some of your favorite.

serve me @chateautae

summary: kim seokjin has been your annoyingly stoic butler ever since you started university, and were gifted your own penthouse. for years, your relationship had remained on the outs, subjecting seokjin to hearing your desperate moans for other men each time they climbed into your sheets; and each time you rubbed it in his face. little did you know that you were only riling him up, and it would be your moans for him bouncing off the walls when your taunting finally unravels his ironclad self-control.

sweet dreams @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Seokjin loves when you paint your nails pink.

Yoongi

broken pt. 2 @kithtaehyung

summary: the championship game lights up… and everything goes down.

maybe so @diorh0seokie

(cheating/angst)

Hoseok

gone wild @johobi

summary: Hoseok consumes porn like he does Cheetos: in unhealthily large amounts. He’s seen, and jacked off to, most things imaginable. But there are those photos that always draw him back…

hot rod @kinktae

summary: a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser Hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

keeping a secret @/kpopfanfictrash

summary: You and Hoseok have been hooking up for a few weeks now. No one in your friend group knows. What happens then, when he shows up at movie night looking better than anticipated?

flower @readyplayerhobi

summary: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

who's your daddy? @ppersonna

summary: in order to get over your hopeless crush, you sign up for DADDI, a daddy-dom dating site. you can’t tell your friends, especially your best friend hoseok. but as weeks go on, you’re desperate to meet the man behind the screen.

groupie love @kimnjss

summary: he’s ½ of the famous rap duo, the 94′s. when stumbling upon a pretty youtuber, he’s quick to decide he wants to have her. but one night with her just doesn’t seem like enough.

heartbreaker ^

summary: you’re just his type. so it’s no surprise when all of his time and effort goes into making you his. though, they’ve always said… you only want it because you can’t have it.

swallow your pride @/ugh-yoongi

established relationship

ho ho horrible ^

summary: the one where your neighbor is a relentless christmas caroler and refuses to take a hint, but at least he’s really hot.

hate that i love it @yoongiphoria

summary: hate-fucking hoseok is your favorite and least favorite thing to do.

take care of me @/gimmethatagustd

summary: You’d never trade quiet, sleepless nights with your boyfriend for anything in the world, even when sometimes it feels like the world is falling apart around you.

not today, satan ^

summary: If you had known the demon tasked with reaping your soul would be a total #daddy you would have gone to Hell sooner!

Namjoon

the gang summons a demon @ugh-yoongi

the prompt: you, a powerful demoness, have just been summoned to earth. this man, this human, wants you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a few days so his parents will get off his back about it.

in the closet ^

office au

Jimin

none :(

Taehyung

rotten angelcake ch. 11 @inkedtae

summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

loverboy @kookslastbutton

summary: After a startling conversation with your coworkers, you start feeling insecure about your sexual prowess. You don’t initiate as much, you haven’t worn lingerie yet, and you’re still timid about doing much seducing with your body–are you giving your boyfriend boring sex? Taehyung reassures you that you are perfect and have nothing to worry about.

Jungkook

be mine @minisugakoobies

summary: Won’t you be his Valentine?

to give a helping hand @oddinary4bts

summary: when Jungkook comes home from the gym, he goes feral thinking about you.

oxygen @/gimmethatagustd

summary: If you get caught, you’ll both die. Jungkook wants to be yours anyway.

OT7/Mulpitple Members

lavender lover @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Taehyung broke all his rules for Jimin, even when it hurt.

Seokjin

chivalry @out-of-jams

summary: And they say chivalry is dead.

burn after reading @raplinesmoon

summary: The agency made the biggest mistake they ever could by trusting Kim Seokjin one more time. You weren’t going to do the same.

Yoongi

exitus acta probat @/bang-tan-bitches

summary:  “All you need to know is that my name is Yoongi and you’re mine now.”

beloved ^

summary: Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win

the mark of yun-ki @/ladyartemesia

summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir… but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

romancing the tome @/kpopfanfictrash

summary: Min Yoongi is many things: renowned archaeologist, versatile hat-wearer, on a bit of an unlucky streak with his work and kind of an ass. What he isn’t is fluent in Latin. Meaning, Yoongi can’t quite determine if he’s being led astray on his most recent archaeological expedition. Enter you, cultural linguist and all-around badass. The goal? Treasure. The means? Your teensy, tiny car. The problem? Min Yoongi is so damn annoying, you might just kill him first.

be my baby [SMAU] @/kimnjss

summary: when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

too easy @sweetestofchaos

summary: Yoongi’s sugar baby really wants that new Zimmermann dress

blackthorn ^

summary: Prince Yoongi and Princess Keena have been friends for as long as they can remember. But finding out they’re promised to one another in marriage isn’t the only obstacle they must overcome as war threatens their home.

stop thinking about me @/yoongiphoria

summary: there's only one person he thinks about with that song.

Hoseok

hot and bothered @sahmfanficbts

summary: You’re hot and bothered and your lawn needs some TLC. Enter: Hoseok with his big lawn-mower.

Namjoon

promise @joheunsaram

summary: Namjoon has always been in the periphery of your friend group, but when you meet the cute boy he doesn’t make the best first impression, or second, or third…

Jimin

renegade @/yoongiphoria

summary: is it insensitive for me to say get your shit together, so i can love you?

Taehyung

new flame @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Flame is a dating app designed for omegas and alphas to find heat and rut partners. You’re skeptical of using the app, not anticipating that you might find someone who is more than just a new flame.

enfer @/out-of-jams

summary: Enfer, the ironically named club, was well known for helping to bring together those of the living with the dead, well, undead. And your best friend had convinced you to try it out, to potentially find a partner amongst the sophisticated group of the otherworldly elite. You’d been open to it. But never would you have imagined meeting him.

stranger danger ^

stress relief @joonsmagicshop

summary: Taehyung gives you an offer you can’t refuse

Jungkook

none :(

OT7/Multiple Members

cosmic collision @/gimmethatagustd

summary: A responsible weedman, Yoongi always tests out new marijuana strains before selling them to his customers. When his supplier offers him a new strain, Cosmic Collision, Yoongi is eager to try it. What he doesn’t expect is the alien that comes with it.

accidental texts (hyung line) @ppersonna

accidental love confessions @kookiesjoonies

[lightgriffinsect]

i'm not familiar with your OCs but reblog courtesy dictates that I send you an ask! whichever work you want to talk about!

Starry Night, Girl with a Pearl Earring, American Gothic, A Sunday Afternoon... , and The Swing please!

Thanks! :D I’ll do the first few for Cosmiren, my main WIP, although it’s still in planning stages jsyk

Starry Night: are there any scenes in this work that take place at nighttime? Is this significant, or just the passing of time?

I do plan to have certain scenes taking place at night, such as when Radiant’s crew stumble upon Ember and his guard fighting off a threat and join them, thereby earning their confidence and gaining an invite to the home of the royal family of Aunistere. Also some romantic scene or another between Radiant and Dusk because nighttime is significant to both their characters :3

Girl With a Pearl Earring: are there any moments in this work where a character's clothing or accessories play a major role?

The first character that comes to mind is Dusk! He owns a pair of twin pendants that are important to his story. One of them has always been his, while the other belonged to his sister Dawn. After her death he retrieved her pendant and he wears both of them now. They’re also infused with a spell that lets them transform into twin blades, so he uses both of them in combat.

American Gothic: what's one relationship between characters in this work that you think people wouldn't expect? (i.e., how the people in American Gothic are not married, they're the painter's sister and dentist)

Mell and Terrace! They’re best friends, fellow crafters, and business partners! They run a craft shop in Satelle together. However they are not a couple :3 they never developed romantic feelings for each other. People would probably ship them, but in truth they’re just a dynamic duo that make sick weapons and cool outfits to sell 🙌

A Sunday Afternoon...: pick one "little moment" from this fic. How representative is it of the fic's tone and story as a whole?

I’ll do these next couple for one of my fanfics… how about Joy in a Clear Blue Sky? That one’s been on the brain today a lot more ^^ This entire fic was basically about the Andromeda family returning to those “little moments” between them. I would pick the scene where Aldryx asks Agoti to set the table with the nice plates that are only meant for company. They don’t have company on this particular morning. They don’t have any reason to use those plates at all, except that they want to. It’s never too early to just… use nice things. Otherwise you’ll hardly use them at all, if ever. Another theme this moment represents is of healing, by finding small joys in the world. The simplest things can also be the ones that bring the most joy.

The Swing: are there any moments in this fic where the characters get to slow down and have fun? If not, why is that?

I mean… yes? XD that’s basically the entire premise of Joy in a Clear Blue Sky. This fic is more focused on fluff and wholesome family interactions, so it’s a lot more fun and sweet then my other fics.

[disturbedbydesign]

Take Me Home - Part 9

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 4.9K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @filthy-gorgeous, @whatinthestyles, @justile, @mazarinqueen, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @thornsnvultures, @terry2227

*Taglist is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that’s cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

Series Masterlist

Part Nine

The restaurant is bustling for a Sunday night, and as the hostess takes you to your table you look around in awe of the place. It’s sleek and modern without being minimalist, bathed in low warm light with chillout music playing at the perfect volume. The place is lively and sexy and not any place you’d ever have pictured Dennis choosing, but you’re pleasantly surprised to find that, in his Sunday best, with his arm around your waist, he looks totally comfortable. The hostess seats you at a table near the open kitchen, and when she hands Dennis the wine list, he passes it to Mal almost instinctively.

“You drinking tonight?” she asks you.

“Not really,” you reply. “I’ve got work in the morning, and you know more than two and I’m useless the next day.”

She sighs. “Lightweight,” she says, snapping the wine list closed. “Cocktails it is then. I’m not gonna drink a whole bottle by myself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you snark, and she laughs.

“Hey! Don’t make me look like a wino in front of my new friend here.” She turns to Dennis. “So, what’s your poison, Dennis?”

“I’m not much of a drinker either,” he replies, “but feel free to get whatever you want.”

“You might regret saying that,” Mal replies, “but I’ll just stick to my dirty martinis.” 

You turn to Dennis, who is holding the signature cocktail menu, and point at one of the drinks. “I was checking out the menu earlier and I thought you might like this one—it’s like an old fashioned but with fresh peaches and blackberries.”

“That sounds perfect,” he says. “I love peaches.”

“Well you’ve already got the juiciest peach in this place,” Mal quips, and you kick her under the table. “Ow! Fuck.”

“Don’t mind her,” you say, noting the flush rising on Dennis’s cheeks and the tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips. “She’s an idiot.”

Dennis leans over and whispers in your ear, “She’s not wrong,” and the deep timbre of his voice shoots straight to your core.

“Stop it,” you say. “Both of you.”

Mal giggles and gives Dennis a cheeky little wink. It’s gonna be a long night if she keeps this up, but you’re not actually mad. It feels good—easy, comfortable even—being with the two of them, and you can tell Mal already likes him. She wouldn’t bother hiding it if she didn’t.

You already know what you’re going to order. When you weren’t out of your mind on wedding websites earlier in the day, you were studying the menu and making your decision. All of you are ready by the time the waiter arrives to take your drink order but when you see the man’s face you freeze for a moment before looking away. You know him—Tom; he used to work at Brad’s restaurant and he would hang out late night with the chef crew from time to time. You bury your face in the menu, hoping he doesn’t recognize you. If he does, he doesn’t mention it, just takes your table’s order and says he’ll be back swiftly with your drinks.

One slight arch of a perfectly shaped eyebrow tells you Mal knows something’s up, but she’s not about to ask you in front of Dennis. You shake your head at her, almost imperceptibly, telling her to drop it in that secret non-verbal friend language.

“So, Dennis,” she says, and you brace yourself for what’s coming. 

“Here we go… Please be nice, Mal.”

“I’m always nice. I just want to know what your intentions are with my bestie here.”

“Oh my Godddd.” You hide your face in your hands and you hear Dennis chuckle next to you. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s a valid question,” he says. “She’s just looking out for you.”

“Damn right,” Mal says. “So…”

“Well,” Dennis begins, “I don’t know how much she’s told you about me and my divorce-”

“I didn’t say anything,” you interrupt, turning to him. You look into his eyes, needing him to know that you didn’t break his trust. “I didn’t tell her about all that, and you don’t have to either.”

“It’s ok.” He places his hand on your thigh under the table and gives it a gentle squeeze before turning back to Mal. “I was in a bad situation for a really long time. My ex-wife is… not a nice person. When we finally got divorced, I thought it was enough to just be away from her, that I could just be happy on my own without having to deal with… all that.” He turns to you and the adoration in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “But then I met you, and I knew I could never be happy alone knowing you were out there.” He turns back to Mal. “I never thought she’d go out with me. Couldn’t even get up the courage to ask her. She had to ask me. But I’m so happy she did. So, uh, I guess my intentions are to make her happy for as long as she lets me.”

You can see from the way Mal’s face softens as he talks that he’s already won her over, and she confirms it when she says, “OK, that’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard. I might puke actually.”

You turn to Dennis. “Do you mean that?”

“Every word,” he replies, and you lean over and cup his face with one hand and plant a gentle kiss on his lips as Mal fakes gagging sounds in the background.

A voice rings out, and it’s one you never wanted to hear again. “Get a room.”

Your hand drops to Dennis’s shoulder and you grip it tight, staying stock-still as your body runs cold and your heart pounds in your chest. Dennis looks up and over your shoulder, glaring at the source of the interruption with his eyebrows scrunched together, but you don’t turn around—you can’t, because you know exactly who is behind you and he’s the last person on earth you want to see.

You hear Mal’s voice but it’s like you’re underwater. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she snaps.

“I work here, Mallory,” Brad says. “Tommy said you all were here and I figured I’d bring you your drinks… on the house, of course.”

“We don’t want shit from you. Just fuck off, will you?”

“Aww, not even gonna turn around, babe?” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Come on. That’s no way to treat an old friend.”

“She’s not your fucking friend and you need to leave,” Mal says, practically growling. “Now.”

“Well considering I’m the sous chef here, I’m pretty sure I can be wherever I’d like.”

You hate that you’re frozen in place, unable to turn around and face Brad and unable to look Dennis in the eye. You can feel Dennis’s eyes on you as you try to keep your breathing steady and swallow what feels like a golf ball lodged in your throat. You’ve got your head down, staring at the patch of chest hair poking out the top of Dennis’s dress shirt, when you feel him grab your hand under the table and squeeze.

He leans in and asks low in your ear, “That him?” and you nod.

Dennis clears his throat and you can tell he’s about to say something but you don’t want him involved. You can’t hide from this; you need to be the one to put an end to it. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turn around and see Brad sneering at you in his chef’s whites.

“There she is,” he says. “Been a while.”

“Not long enough,” you reply.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend here?” Brad asks.

“Wasn’t planning on it, no.”

Before you even know what’s happening, Dennis is up out of his seat and walking over to Brad, stopping a reasonable distance from him but still towering over him. “Dennis,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m her boyfriend. And I’m assuming you’re Brad?”

Dennis absolutely dwarfs him and you know that Brad notices. He was always self-conscious about his height and has the Napoleon complex to prove it. You see the way he puffs his chest up and tries to stand a little taller as he shakes Dennis’s hand.

“She told you about me, huh?” he asks, wincing almost imperceptibly as Dennis gives him what must be a very strong handshake. 

“She did,” Dennis replies, “and from what I’ve heard, I think it’d be best if you went back to work now.”

Mal is wearing the biggest shit-eating grin on her face as she looks back and forth between Dennis and Brad, but you can’t take your eyes off of Dennis—the strong posture, the tilt of his head, and the steely-eyed stare that doesn’t match the smile on his face. The tension in the air is thick because you know Brad is angry. He doesn’t like being challenged. He doesn’t like it when he’s not the one in charge. His nostrils flare and you think for a second he might keep going—say something to try to embarrass you or make you feel small—but he doesn’t. He can’t, because Dennis is a customer and he’d never make a scene at his own restaurant. He’s a dick, sure, but he’s always been professional.

“Well,” he says, backing away with his hands clasped in front of him. “I hope you all enjoy the food.” He looks you dead in the eye and you can see the hostility when he says, “You have a nice night, hon.”

Dennis is back in his seat with his arm around your shoulders, and the gentle way his fingertips are brushing your bare arm is steadying your heart rate a bit. Still, you need a moment alone to get your shit together because you feel like you could scream. You can hear that “hon” echoing in your head, dripping with malice. You hate that he still thinks he can call you that, and you hate that he had the audacity to do it in front of Dennis.

“You good?” Mal asks, and you nod.

“We don’t have to stay,” Dennis says, but you place your hand on top of his where it rests on your upper arm and smile at him, though you can tell it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m ok,” you say. “Just gonna go to the ladies’ room real quick.”

Mal offers to accompany you but you tell her to stay. You need a few minutes alone.

***

Dennis watches you walk determinedly towards the bathroom with a pit in his stomach. Things were going so well, but of fucking course he had to pick the restaurant where your asshole ex works.

“She’ll be fine,” Mal says, taking a sip of her martini. “Just give her a few minutes.”

Dennis takes a sip of his drink, which is annoyingly good because he wants to hate everything about this place now that he knows that Brad is involved in it. “Well,” he says, “I sure fucked this up.”

“No you didn’t,” Mal replies. “None of us knew he worked here. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I think you handled it perfectly. I mean, did you see the look on that asshole’s face?”

Dennis did, in fact, see the look on Brad’s face when he approached him—like he was ready for a fight only to find his opponent was in a higher weight class. 

“Yeah,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “What the hell was he trying to accomplish with that anyway? I mean, I know they ended on bad terms.”

Mal snort laughs and leans in toward Dennis. “You can say that again. Brad is maybe the biggest asshole I have ever met, and I know a lot of assholes. And he wanted the same thing he always wanted, which is to embarrass her and make her feel like shit. He’s lucky you got up because I was about two seconds from slugging him.”

“Maybe we should go,” Dennis says, because he wants to get you as far away from Brad as possible and he can’t imagine you’d really want to stay now—you’re probably just saying that to make him feel better about making the worst possible restaurant choice. 

“Fuck that. We’re not going anywhere. He doesn’t get to win.” Mal checks over Dennis’s shoulder to make sure you’re not on your way back before continuing. “How much did she tell you about him?”

“Enough,” Dennis replies, his jaw clenching as he thinks about all the things you’d shared with him. “I know he made her feel bad about herself, like she wasn’t good enough for him and like being with her was some sort of… like… charity, which—now that I’m seeing this guy—is even more insane than I already thought it was.”

Mal pauses, and Dennis can tell that she’s unsure how much to share. “It’s more than that,” she says. “It’s not really my place to say and she wouldn’t want me to, but… well… he made her feel ugly in a lot of different ways.”

“She mentioned that, yeah. She wouldn’t go into detail. She didn’t want to talk about it and I didn’t press. I mean, it’s absolutely ridiculous to begin with because she’s fucking gorgeous, so I don’t need to know what that idiot said. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

Mal smiles before popping the stick of olives in her mouth. She doesn’t finish chewing before she starts talking again. “Look,” she says, “she doesn’t need a lot. She doesn’t care about money or fancy shit or any of that. All you have to do is make her feel loved and make her feel beautiful. That’s literally it, and if you can do that, she will be yours forever. I’ve never met someone sweeter or more loyal than her, and it pisses me the fuck off that she thinks she’s anything but a total catch in every possible way.”

“Me too,” Dennis says. “You have no idea how fucking infuriating it is to hear that. I just want to make her happy. What… I mean… is there anything you think I should do, like, specifically, or…”

“You already make her happy,” Mal replies. “It’s kind of breaking girl code to say this but whatever… I can tell you’re a good guy and you’re totally obsessed with her so I’ll say it. She really really likes you. All you have to do is make sure she knows that you really really like her, too.”

“I love her,” Dennis says. The words fly out before he even knows he’s saying them and he starts to panic once he realizes what he’s done. “Shit… I mean… Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I haven’t even told her that. Please don’t say anything.”

Mal smiles as she polishes off her first martini. “Your secret’s safe with me, but you should tell her that,” she says. “Seriously.”

“It’s too soon,” Dennis says, shaking his head. He’s sweating now and he wipes his brow with the cloth napkin from his lap. “It’d just freak her out.”

“I can guarantee you that is not what would happen, but I’m not going to force you. I won’t say a word, just know that she’s not the type to be scared off by that. She deserves to be loved out loud, Dennis.”

“I know she does,” he says, and he takes a swig of his drink.

When he looks up at Mal, she’s looking past him, over his shoulder, and he knows you’re on your way back to the table. He would have liked another few minutes to try and squeeze some more advice out of your best friend but he’s happy to have you back.

“All good?” she asks you.

“Yeah,” you say, sliding into the seat next to him. Dennis searches your face for signs that you’ve been crying, but you look completely pulled together—somehow even more beautiful and radiant than you were before. “So, what were you guys talking about so intently?”

Dennis looks at Mal, panic in his eyes, but she just curves her lip and cocks her head. “Oh, nothing,” she replies. “Just making sure Dennis here knows how lovable you are.”

Mal winks at him and he can feel his ears burning red. You just roll your eyes and wave off her comment. Dennis notices, as he always does, how you can’t take a compliment—the way you get flustered and look away and try to change the subject. It’s so fucking cute he can barely stand it and all he wants to do is tell you every single thing he loves about you, force you to look him in the eye when he says it, and make you believe every word of it is true. He gets it, though. He feels the same way every time you tell him he’s handsome or sexy, and especially those times when you tell him how good he makes you feel when he kisses you or touches you. Looking at you now, sexy as hell in that tight red dress that shows off everything he’s dying to get his hands and his mouth on, all he wants to do is take you home and strip you down to nothing and make you feel good, inside and out.

He knows he can’t—you’ve got work in the morning and he has to get home to Jax pretty soon after dinner—but it’s all he can think about as the three of you make your way through your meal. Dennis does his best to keep his hands to himself, occupying them with silverware as he eats, but occasionally he’ll let his hand wander over to your bare thigh or drape his arm over the back of your chair. He can feel you lean into his touch—your thighs clenching together when he touches your knee, your head lolling back slightly against his bicep—and every so often, when your eyes meet his, you bite that oh-so-kissable bottom lip of yours and smile.

It feels so fucking good to be wanted—to have his touch be welcomed and desired—that Dennis almost forgets how their dinner started out. He hopes that you’ve forgotten about it, too, though he doubts you have. At least he can see that all that tension is gone from your face and your body. You’re laughing as Mal tells a story about some nightmare Tinder date and your giggles sound like the most beautiful music to him. He pretends to listen to Mal, to be engaged in conversation, but he’s only got eyes and his ears for you. It’s ok, though, because even if Mal notices, he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t mind.

Fuck, he can’t believe he told her he loves you, but is it really the worst thing? He’s absolutely terrified to say it and might have gone too long without telling you, but now there a ticking clock on it. He only half believes that Mal won’t tell you what he said—she is your best friend, after all, and he wouldn’t blame her for spilling the beans after a few martinis—so now he has to do it and soon if he wants you to hear it from him first. He wants to believe Mal when she says that you would want him to say it, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He feels like he felt years ago, when he went cliff jumping in Oahu on his honeymoon—just hovering at the precipice, trying to decide if the reward was worth the risk. Of course, Karen had pushed him over and called him a pussy for taking too long. He knows you would never do that, though—you’d never rush him into anything—and as he looks at your smiling face, he realizes he’s ready to jump.

***

You’d told yourself during your little self-pep talk in the bathroom that you weren’t going to let Brad ruin your night. You were just going to go back to the table, put him out of your mind, and focus on having a good time with your best friend and your handsome new man. And fuck does Dennis look good tonight. He always looks good to you, but something about him in a suit with his shirt is unbuttoned just enough for that thick neck and chest hair to be on display, the sleeves rolled up to show off those forearms with the veins you just want to lick. Dennis is lightyears more attractive than Brad and he wants you, so why are you letting Brad get to you? Part of you does want to leave, but you’d decided that would be letting him win, giving him what he wants, which is to ruin your date, to make you look pathetic in front of your man, to make you feel worthless and weak.

Fuck him. You’re not going anywhere.

As you, Mal, and Dennis make your way through your courses, you find you’re able to relax a little. You wish you weren’t sitting quite so close to the open kitchen—that you didn’t feel Brad’s eyes burning holes in the side of your face the entire time, whether he was actually looking or not—but you tell yourself, let him look. Let him watch your big, sexy man wrap his arm around you and toy with the strap of your dress. Let him watch your face light up as you laugh with your whole chest at something your best friend said. Let him see the way your boyfriend looks at you like you’re the most precious thing on earth one second and like he wants to throw you on the table and eat you alive the next.

Fuck him. Let him look.

“So,” Mal says, “we getting dessert?”

“I can’t eat a whole dessert,” you reply, “but I’ll have a bite if you’re getting something.”

“Oh, I’m getting something,” she says, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eye that should probably worry you except that Dennis has his hand on your knee and all you can think about is how you want to grab it and push it up under your dress.

“Let’s get the peach tarte tatin,” she says. “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” She stands up and tosses her napkin on her chair, grabbing her purse off the seat next to her. “Try not to feel each other up too much while I’m gone, yeah?”

Dennis lowers his head and chuckles into his chest and you shoot her a playful scowl. “That obvious?” you ask.

“Oh yeah,” she replies. “But it’s cute. Very PG-13, but let’s keep it that way. At least until he gets you home…”

You giggle and let your head fall onto Dennis’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just can’t keep my hands off you in that dress. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” You feel his hand slide up the side of your thigh and you shiver as he speaks low in your ear. “My sweet, juicy peach.”

You let out a whispered “fuck” and grab his hand before it can make it’s way any higher. “You’re being a very bad boy right now,” you say.

“Can’t help it,” he replies. “You look too good. Don’t be mad.”

You cock your head at him and he’s got the sweetest little smile on his face and his eyebrows raised enough to crinkle his forehead. God, you just want to crawl into his lap and kiss him all over his face and his neck but you have to keep your shit together.

“Hands to yourself for the rest of dinner and I’ll let you put them wherever you want later. Deal?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I’ll take that deal.”

“Good boy,” you say, and over the music you think you hear him let out a little moan as he adjusts the napkin on his lap.

Interesting… noted.

By the time Mal returns, the two of you have managed to return to your own spheres of personal space and ordered the dessert.

“So some good news,” she says. “I’m going to meet up with Carl after dinner so the two of you can have some quality time.”

You already knew Mal was going to come up with some excuse to give the two of you the apartment for a while, and you’re happy to hear that things are still going well with Mr. Hipster.

“You gonna have a sleepover this time?” you ask.

“We’ll see,” she replies. “I don’t have to work tomorrow so I’m just going to see where the evening takes me.”

You turn to Dennis. “Mal has a new boyfriend who she refuses to admit is her boyfriend.”

“And why is that?” Dennis asks.

“So you’re grilling me now?”

“Maybe,” he says. “So what’s the story?”

Mal sighs. “I don’t like labels,” she says. “I just… you know… ‘boyfriend’ sounds so serious.”

“And you’re not serious about him?”

You are absolutely loving the way that Dennis’s perfectly logical and normal questions are making Mal squirm. It’s the same conversation you’ve had with her already, but it’s truly delightful to watch her try to rationalize her bullshit in front of another person. 

“It’s not that,” she says. “I like him. A lot. I just don’t do boyfriends.”

“And does he do girlfriends?” Dennis asks, but Mal is saved by the arrival of dessert.

Tom places the tarte tatin in the middle of the table and Dennis thanks him and asks for the check. You’re just about to grab your fork for a bite when Mal stills your hand with hers.

“Wait,” she says.

She looks around the table, surveying the scene quickly, and she gets up and walks around to Dennis. When she leans over like she’s about to whisper something in his ear, you say, “What the fuck, Mal?” and then you see her snatch a piece of Dennis’s hair out.

“Ow! Jesus. What the hell?”

“Shh,” she says. “Just wait,” and she returns to her seat and places the hair on top of the glazed peaches with an impish smile on her face.

“Mal, don’t,” you say, but it’s too late because she’s already exclaiming quite loudly, “Is that a HAIR?!? Oh my God, GROSS!”

God, she’s so evil sometimes, and you love her so fucking much. You drop your head and put one hand across your brow, trying to stave off the giggles as you grip Dennis’s thigh with the other.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doing?” he asks.

“She sure is.”

The surrounding tables have taken notice of Mal’s little charade and Tom hurries over to the table as she details the problem.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Tom says. “I’ll get you another one.”

“I think just the check,” Dennis chimes in.

“Well, uh, let us at least comp.. uh… your drinks?” Tom stutters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Brad in the kitchen absolutely fuming. You feel a little bad because you know he’ll take it out Tom or on the poor pastry chef, but your satisfaction at the flaming red hue of his face outweighs any guilt you might feel.

“That’s alright. I’m happy to pay for everything,” Dennis says, and he hands Tom his credit card without even looking at the bill. 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll be back right away. And sorry again.”

“Don’t you fucking laugh,” Mal hisses at you as Tom scurries away from the table. “Keep your shit together.”

“I’m trying,” you say, and it’s really taking everything you’ve got not to explode into a giggle fit. You’ve got a death grip on Dennis’s thigh and you can feel his muscles flexing under your fingers, and when you look up at him, he’s got a half smile on his face that’s making the dimple on his cheek pop.

“Keep squeezing me like that and you’re gonna leave a bruise, sweetheart.”

“You should be so lucky,” Mal says. “Anyway, speaking of leaving bruises, Carl just texted me. You two mind if I take off? I think I may be on the verge of overstaying my welcome.”

“Go ahead,” you say. “Go get your man.”

“He’s not my man.”

“Sure he’s not,” Dennis says.

“Don’t you fucking start, too. Jesus. Now there’s two of you? I can’t.” Mal stands up and grabs her purse. “But seriously, it was so nice to meet you Dennis, and thank you for dinner. You’ve officially passed the bestie test.”

Dennis smiles. “Glad to hear it. Have a wonderful rest of your evening, and hey, maybe you and your not-boyfriend could come over to my place for a barbecue next weekend.” He turns to you. “I was thinking of maybe doing something for the 4th… I mean, if you want to.”

“I’d love to.”

“Me too,” Mal says. “I need to see this big fancy house of yours. And if Carl is still around by next weekend, maybe I’ll invite him.”

You roll your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand up to give her a hug goodbye. Dennis stands as well, and you think he’s going to be awkward about it but he isn’t; he gives Mal a quick hug goodbye like they’ve known each other forever and it warms your heart to see it. She whispers something to him as she pulls away that you don’t quite hear but you do hear his response.

“I will,” he says. “I promise.”

PART TEN >>>

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

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

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

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

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

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

word count: 24.2k

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

///

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

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

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

Harry still hates clubs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that so?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lock the door on your way out!” 

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first thing he notices is the dress. 

Fuck, the dress. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Far from it, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like your dress.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been thinking about you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It felt really nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

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

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

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

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

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

I’ll see you there, then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

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

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

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

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

Sounds good to me, Sherlock. 

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

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

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

“Shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hands off.” 

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

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

“Ask for permission.” 

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

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need interior design advice. 

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

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

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

Genuinely? 

Yup!

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

Alright, shoot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immature? 

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

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks. 

Alright, go head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touché.

Exactly. 

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

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

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

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

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

Maybe.

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

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read my mind.

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

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

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

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

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

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

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

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

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m going to call you.

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

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

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

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

[mandoalorian]

Red Carpet [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Summary: you attend an awards ceremony with your fiancée, Maxwell Lord. It’s nerve-wracking, but he knows how to comfort you, and you even meet a few celebrities along the way.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: alcohol mention, allusions to sex

Word count: 2000

A/N: I wrote this while watching the BAFTAs and got inspired! Pedro looked so cute. Anyways there’s nothing better than some tooth-rotting fluff on a Sunday night. REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Your heart was racing. You weren’t sure how he did it, or where he got the confidence from, but when you see him all suited up in his tuxedo and hair perfectly coiffed, you feel nothing but pride swell in your chest. You bite down on your lower lip and wrap your arms around him as he stands in the mirror and adjusts his black bow tie.

“You look amazing,” you coo, nuzzling your head into the crook of your neck but being extra careful not to rub your makeup on him. “Smell good too.” you hum, taking in the notes of sweet honey musk with a hint of spice.

He spins around and his hands immediately find your waist as his dark eyes rake your figure. You’re wearing a silver glittering gown that hugs your body in all the right places. “You look… breathtaking,” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning over your neck. When he pulls away from you, he sees the way you happily scrunch up your nose and his entire face lights up. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he asks.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat and you look down at the floor. You and Maxwell have been together for years now, but you still get a little shy whenever he compliments you. He finds it endearing though and his fingers tap at your chin, pushing it upwards so he can look you in the eyes again. He’s completely enamoured by you. You could do absolutely anything and it would capture him into a trance. 

Not once did he ever believe that he was someone capable of falling in love. That was, until, he met you.

“Are you nervous?” you ask, swaying your hips slightly. You’re nervous. You don’t want to say anything to worry him, but he can probably tell none-the-less.

“Not really.” he replies, checking his hair one final time. You’re glad he’s feeling okay. He’s always been good at talking to big audiences. You’re proud of him too. Knowing just how far he’s come.

“If there was a category for best infomercial, you would win.” You assure him and he lets out a laugh.

“Oh I agree,” He cheekily grins, linking his arm with yours. He’s not been nominated for an award, but he was hosting a category. Maxwell wasn’t exactly a A List Hollywood celebrity, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t famous. Everyone in the world knew his face and he was most certainly a household name. If it wasn’t from his commercials or speeches, it was from the lavish parties he held and all the reality TV guest appearances he starred in. “The limo is waiting. Are you ready?”

You grab your purse and nod your head. When you make your way downstairs to the car, his hand doesn’t leave yours once. You’re lucky enough to live in a pretty private enclosed neighbourhood with him, but the second you’re both in the city, there are flashing cameras everywhere.

The bright lights are overwhelming, and you wince as they blind you. He’s used to it though, and he makes full effort to shelter you from it. 

First thing on the checklist was to complete the red carpet. Knowing that there were so many cameras on you, and that your photographs would most likely be in the tabloids tomorrow, makes you feel uneasy. But Maxwell always knows how to calm you down. His hand rests on the small of your back and he whispers a few jokes in your ear now and again which force your lips to curl into a genuine smile.

If it was up to him, he’d spend every moment relishing the limelight and garnering attention. However, he knows you aren’t the biggest fan of it, so as you duck your head down, he makes it his goal to get you inside as fast as possible.

They’re all shouting his name and he politely waves. But once you’re inside, he makes sure you’re okay, and gives your arm a little squeeze. You can see him though, trying to take a peek outside. There are cameras and press waiting for him, you know that, and it was a big night for him. You’d hate to be the thing keeping him from enjoying himself.

“They want to see you,” you tell him. “You should go out and see them.”

“No,” he firmly states, shaking his head. “No. C’mon, I’ll take you to the bar.” He slips his hand into yours and goes to take you across the lobby. You dig your heel into the floor, refusing to move. When he looks at you, you’re smirking playfully.

“Just go. It’ll be good press for Black Gold. I’ll be fine.” you insist, flattening the palm of your hand against his chest. The material of his white shirt is soft and feels so luxurious.

He hesitates slightly, not wanting to leave your side, but he knows that there is no point in arguing. Besides, you have point. “I won’t be long.” he promises before kissing you. When he pulls away, you can’t help but grin, seeing your red gloss smudged against his own soft lips.

“Oh wait!” you laugh, licking your finger and wiping it off for him. “Okay, now you can go.”

When he heads back outside, they go wild for him. They’re asking him all these questions about what charities he’s considering donating to at his next fundraiser, or what his own personal thoughts are on the latest celebrity gossip. But, all he can think about is you.

“I always love chatting to you,” Maxwell flashes his charismatic television smile as he charms the journalist. “But my fiancée is inside waiting for me so I must be heading off.”

Maxwell realises what he’s done immediately after the words leave his mouth. Neither of you had come out and announced your engagement yet. Of course there had been rumours, when the paparazzi had caught shots of the enormous diamond rock on your finger, but nothing had ever been confirmed. The journalist looks overjoyed when he realises he’s the first to learn this information.

“Oh Mr. Lord!” he cries. “Congratulations. This is just terrific news. Do you have a wedding date yet?”

A pink blush crosses Maxwell’s cheeks at the thought of you on his wedding day. “Uh, no,” he answers. “But she wants a summer wedding.”

Maxwell finds himself gushing about you for a little longer than he intended, but he’s really not out there for too long. He’s inpatient to get back inside with you, and grab a drink. You already have a glass of whiskey waiting for him. 

You’re waiting at the high rise bar, your feet dangling from the stool you’re sat on as you sheepishly eye up all the famous guests who are waiting in the lobby. Maxwell jumps up from behind you and you almost fall off your chair, but in one swift movement, he steadies you and holds you tight.

“Maxie,” you mumble, thankful that he’s back with you. “I think I just saw Elton John.”

Maxwell gasps and looks around. “Where?”

You shyly point your finger into the corner, where a Elton John is standing, nursing a cocktail and speaking to--

“Is that Madonna?!” you practically yelp. 

Maxwell adores how excitable you get. “Why don’t we go say hello?”

You look at him as if he’s crazy.

“Max… that is Elton John and Madonna. I can’t--, we can’t… I’m--”

He shushes you and takes your hand. “But imagine how amazing it would be if we could get them to play at our wedding?” 

You feel your heart blossom at the thought but you’re still unsure. “I don’t know…” you trail off but he pouts and you take a deep breath. “Okay. Okay fine.” you sigh, giving in to his puppy dog eyes.

As it turns out, Elton John and Madonna were lovely people.

The awards ceremony is about to begin and you sit around a table which is relatively close to the stage. The seats are warm and made out of crushed velvet, and each guest is given a glass of the finest champagne. Around the table sit other celebrities.

Sure, being around Max means that you’ve met a lot of famous people in your time, but being in such close proximity to them would never not be scary. You weren’t born into wealth or success like the majority of people here were. As someone with a habit of being clumsy and easily flustered, you knew this lifestyle wasn’t for you, and you didn’t think it ever would be. But Maxwell was a natural and he fit in so well around these people. You’d always be there to support him.

You anxiously twist the engagement ring on your finger when he stands up and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I won’t be long,” he utters under the music. “Will you be okay?”

He’s due to go on stage in fifteen minutes and the crew has requested that he goes behind the curtains to prepare. You wish you could go with him. As long as you’re with him, you’re fine. You silently nod and he brings his hand down to your cheek, gazing at you with sparkling brown eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Go,” you laugh, swatting his arm playfully and then quickly rubbing out any crinkles you might’ve put in his suit. “I’ll be fine.”

He grins and kisses you one final time before disappearing into the crowd. When he’s out of sight, you decide to take a sip of your champagne, hoping the alcohol would relax you just a little bit. But then George Michael from WHAM! taps you on the shoulder, and you feel like your heart is in your ass.

“May I sit here?” He asks, pointing at the chair next to you. It’s unoccupied, other than your purse which was sitting on it.

“Oh! Sure!” you blurt out, doing your best to stay calm. The two of you sit in silence as you wait for the lights to go down.

“Do I know you?” George asks eventually, folding his arms across his chest. He looks somewhat bemused. “I feel like I recognise you.”

“Um, no. I mean-- you probably don’t know me. But I’m here with my fiancee, Max Lord,” you explain. “He’s presenting the ‘Best Actor’ category.”

“Oh!” George grins, slapping his thigh. “Of course I know Maxwell! He’s the oil guy!” George clears his throat before pointing his finger. “Life is good, but it can be better!” He impersonates one of Max’s most famous one-liners, and you laugh, nodding your head.

“Yep, that’s him.” you confirm.

“I actually invest in his business.” George tells you and you smile politely.

“Oh, well he’d be thrilled to know that.” you tell the star.

Not long after your brief conversation with George, the event begins. You’re so nervous for Max, but you know he’s going to do great. When he comes on stage, he’s just as bold and charming as you anticipate, and you have no doubt he’s swooning audiences all around the world. He winks at you before announcing the nominees, and you feel a flurry of butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s in his element and you love nothing more than to see him do the thing he was best at.

Max announces the winner and offers her a hug when she comes to collect the award, but all he can think about is heading back to the table so he can be with you for the rest of the night. Sure, he enjoyed all of this. But he loved being with you even more.

When he sits back down next to you, his hand travels under the hem of your dress and up your thigh. His fingers trace loving patterns into your skin. “I was thinking…” he hums quietly, the vibrations of his low voice enough to make a shiver run down your spine. “What if we just skip the after-party and go straight home?”

You’re baffled by his suggestion and shoot him a bewildered look.

“What? But you love parties.”

“But I love you even more,” he reveals, grinning at you dork-ishly. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to get that dress off you from the moment I saw you in it.”

You giggle and lean your head on his shoulder. Events like this were always nerve wracking, but as long as you were with Maxwell, you were in your happy place. Still, the thought of getting out of here and spending some one on one time with your soon to be husband was more than appealing.

“Let’s ditch.” you tell him, and you live for the smile he gives you.

You couldn’t wait to marry Max and be with him for the rest of your life.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[sparktober]

Sparktober Bingo 2021!

Back for a new generation: Sparktober Bingo!

Instead of coming up with an Atlantis-specific list of prompts, I compiled a bunch of 2021 -tober prompt lists into one google doc here. (Links to original prompt lists are on the google doc.) Add in a list of Atlantis episodes and...

How to play:

Choose a “flavor” from the prompt sets below the cut, then paste it into this fandom bingo card generator.

Adjust your browser size til it looks right and take a screenshot, or use the html script if you’re familiar with using html on tumblr. Tag @sparktober​ if you want us to reblog it so everyone knows you’re playing!

  Sparktober Bingo Rules:

Complete a row/column, corners, or a blackout of your card by November 1, or not! Update as you go.

All fan-works are allowed: art, edits, fic, meta... bonus points to anyone who picks the “sprinkles” flavor and goes full mid-aughts by filling their bingo cards with 100x100 pixel icons.

You are allowed to pull multiple cards until you get one that inspires you, and you can also go through the prompt list of your choice in advance to pull out squicks or things you absolutely won’t write. I recommend not googling unfamiliar words from your work computer.

Use the prompts liberally! Episode titles can be treated as the episode or as generic prompts (e.g. “Epiphany” can be for an episode-related fic or a prompt for an epiphany of your choice).

  Flavor descriptions:

VANILLA: Gen prompt lists from Fictober, Inktober, Trektober Gen, and Trektober Trek.

CHOCOLATE: Zesty prompt lists from Trektober NSFW, Kinktober, and Whumptober. The multiple-prompts-per-day from Kinktober and Whumptober have been broken into individual prompts.

CANDY CORN: Fall / holiday themed prompts from TUA-tober.

SPRINKLES: Atlantis episode list (in order, in case you only want to copy certain seasons), along with characters and a few Atlantis-specific prompts.

TWIST: All of the above! (You can also manually mix and match different flavors, of course.)

Text blocks to copy into the bingo card generator are below the cut. Enjoy!!

VANILLA

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty

  CHOCOLATE

A/B/O; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; Hide & Seek; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Pressure; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Nightmares; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex

  CANDY CORN

Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Ghosts; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Halloween

  SPRINKLES

Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Adrift; Lifeline; Reunion; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

 TWIST

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; A/B/O; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex; Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Lifeline; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

[bluelockhalloweek]

Blue Lock Halloweek 2023 Prompts are here—can’t wait to see what y’all create!

👻 Reblog with your favorites prompts & share with your Blue Lock crew!

👻 Find the event on Twitter @/BllkHalloweek

👻 See below for more info, typed-out prompts, & prompt examples if you need clarification or inspiration

👻 Feel free to mix and match, and take prompts as literally or as tangentially as you want!

👻 Work doesn’t have to be specifically Fall / Halloween themed as long as it fits a prompt. (If you’re writing a superhero fic for “Mask,” don’t feel like you have to stick a 🎃 in a corner unless you want to.)

👻 Work can be as lighthearted, scary, or spicy as you want as long as you follow the updated guidelines!

👻 Thank you to everyone who submitted prompts, & credit to the anons who suggested The Witching Hour & Mischief Night! A lot of suggestions were already on my longer list or were very similar, or might be better saved for next year. If your favorite isn't on the list, the “Free Prompt” finale is your day!

👻 Find event Archive of Our Own here!

👻 The event is on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3, so share your contribution on all three!

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Blue Lock Halloweek (+ 2!): October 23 - October 31, 2023

Monday 23: Pumpkin spice + Do you believe in magic?

Tuesday 24: Masks + Heartbeat

Wednesday 25: Things that go bump in the night + Festival

Thursday 26: Firelight + Dark Waters

Friday 27: Paranoia + The Witching Hour

Saturday 28: Monster’s Ball + Hunter’s Moon (actual full moon date & name!)

Sunday 29: Angels & Demons + Castle

Monday 30: Spirit + Movie / Mischief Night (actual night)

Tuesday 31 🎃: Sweet Tooth / Sucker + Free Prompt!

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Now for Prompt Examples + Explanations 

I’ve had people ask for prompt examples in past events I’ve hosted and this event is open to any language, so here you go! These are the quick brainstorming notes (now expanded with links & definitions) I took while narrowing down the list to be sure the final prompts were unique enough / without toooo much overlap, and covered enough areas. Only some of maaaany interpretations—go wild!

Your host is a fic-writer with ADHD, so…you’ve been warned.

Day 1: 

Pumpkin Spice: Cozy Autumn vibes. Putting up Halloween decorations, carving Jack-o-lanterns, coffee / tea shop, pumpkin patch, scented candles, baking, fall sangria, sweaters and beanies and flannels, momijigari (Autumn Hanami 🌸, basically) / admiring gorgeous fall foliage, fresh hot apple cider in an orchard. Itoshi Bros and their love of turtle/mock-neck sweaters. Pumpkin Farmer Aiku and Karasu scarecrow!

Do you believe in magic?: Revealing their magical powers for the first time. Crystal ball, tarot. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, etc. AU. Non-literal magic in relationships (feeling understood, chemistry, humor matching up perfectly, etc). Wands, spells, magical objects, magical creatures, etc.. Making a wish. Alexis "The Magician" Ness.

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Day 2:

Masks: Costumes, super heroes, putting up a front, acting like something you’re not, classic masked Halloween meet-cute, secret / concealed identities, spies, ninja and samurai and assassins (Karasu and Otoyaaa!) Niko hiding his eyes / face.

Heartbeat: Racing heart from excitement, fright, romance, spice. No heartbeat like undead, zombie or vampire, etc.. Skip a beat, beat faster, beat slower (calm and comfort). Chigiri on the run from zombies, zombie Lorenzo!

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Day 3: 

Things that go bump in the night: unexplained (scary or otherwise) noises in the night, whispers or voices, ghosts and other supernatural entities, haunted house / place, anything scary, …spicy. Spooky Owl outside Rin’s window. 

Festival: String lights illuminating festival stalls, costumes, traditional attire (Aryu looking stylish!), food and drink, games, Isagi devouring fried fair food. Fall Music festival. Mid-Autumn Festival (with all the pretty lanterns and mooncakes 🥮), Harvest / Fall Fests in general. Bobbing for apples, caramel / candy apples, carnival rides and games, Ferris wheel. Oktoberfest; Kaiser and/or any Bastard München player in Lederhosen—please, I’m begging!! Fun house / haunted house. Day of the Dead festivities. 

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Day 4:

Firelight: Cauldrons, brewing potions. Candles, rituals, bonfires. Autumn camping trip, s’mores, spooky firelight shadows outside the tent, got lost on a hiking trip & have to make a fire to keep warm! Torches, candles, lanterns lighting the way in a definitely not-haunted place. Hell, your favorite circle (Dante’s Inferno) 😈

Dark Waters: merpeople, sirens, sea monsters, kraken, pirates (Kurona and Raichi, Bachira 🐬!), sharks, shipwreck, ghost ships, stranded on a deserted island, haunted lakes, lake spirits, Autumn fishing trip, swamp monsters, bogs and marshes, willowisps, alligators, snakes. Loch Ness Monster

(Fire and water, light and dark)

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Day 5:

Paranoia: Fear and suspicion, feeling like someone’s watching and you just can’t shake it (...Ego and his cameras), feeling like you’re losing your mind, etc.. Doesn’t have to be all bad! Maybe there was a misunderstanding before a fun surprise. 

The Witching hour: Wiki / dictionary. Depending on whom you ask, the hour is either midnight or 3am - 4am. Supernatural entities / practitioners of dark arts are the most active and powerful. These entities might feel compelled / drawn out into the world. Magic and danger, inexplicable happenings! Humans ought to be at home and safely tucked in bed at this late hour, or else... Fun fact, the Orionid meteor shower peaks juuust before this event starts (in my hemisphere, at least) but continue until November, and the best time to view meteor showers is generally around the witching hour (after midnight / 3-4am). Can also mean the time in which people get up to no good or questionable stuff. 

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Day 6:

Monster’s Ball: Monsters, creatures. Bachiraaa. Halloween party, masquerade, nightlife (going out in costume—or not—to bars and clubs). Reo buying a round. Literal ⚽ ball (Lil Isagi trick-or-treating in Noa’s kit), Halloween Practice (like in high school or college when your coach let you have a fun practice in costume before a holiday—absolute chaos and so fun!). Whatever chaos and debauchery y’all can imagine. Just follow the event guidelines and tag accordingly! Green eyed monster (jealousy), Cinderella’s Ball (Sae and Shidou!)

Hunter’s Moon: The date of the actual full Hunter’s Moon—lucky us! Sometimes called the Blood Moon. Full moon, werewolves, moonlight, on the hunt or being hunted, spells and rituals, Tsukimi / moon viewing + Tsukimi dango 🎑, moon myths and gods. Celestial things, Kurona and Isagi planetary hotline / astronauts, aliens.

(Monster vs Hunter day, ha)

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Day 7:

Angels and Demons: Demon and priest, hell, listening to the angel or the devil on your shoulder (making a questionable decision because it’s tempting), devilish fun or spells, sin, temptation, a deal with the devil. Ohhh, Sae and Shidou, your night has come! 😈

Castle: fairytales, knights, vampires, dungeons, Royalty (King Barou, Emperor Kaiser!). Also super Sae and Shidou.

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Day 8: 

Spirit: ghosts, haunted houses, GhostBusters, spirit entities like yokai, Ghost Adventures. Gagamaru as a friendly Yokai! Shaman. Possession, possessed or cursed objects. JJK. Ouija board game! Monk Igaguri. 

Movie Night: Watching a scary (or not scary) movie, series, anime, etc. So many movie/show Alternate Universes. Sendou living his Hollywood dreams. Barbie please!!! Nagi nodding off halfway through. The guys as a character from their favorite movie listed in the Egoist Bible.

Mischief Night: Wiki page. The night before Halloween for hijinks, pranks, scaring each other! Toilet papering Ego’s house. Can be more sinister, too. 

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Day 9: Halloween!

Sweet tooth / sucker: Trick-or-Treating, candy corn, so much candy, caramel corn, vampires or anything with fangs, bite, ‘sucker’ like 🍭 or vampires, or…

Free day / AU (alternate universe) Palooza!: 

Whatever Halloween stuff you want that doesn’t quite fit a prompt! Just listing some of the things I would draw (if I could) or write (if i had time):

Video game au for Hiori! Pokemon! Ego as a gangly cowboy, ⚽️ bolo tie and all. Barou as the "Cowardly" Lion in the Wizard of Oz. And finally, artists, if you're reading this, please, please consider Noel Noa (of the 🇫🇷 French National 🥖 Team!!) dressed as Bonjour Man from Life Lessons with Uramichi Onii-san (clip, manga cap). Please Omg. This image has literally been haunting me since starting this event and the manga/anime (even the dub!) is soooo funny. And technically, Bonjour Man is a cursed spirit sooo 👻

Okay, that's it. Hope y'all have fun. Please reblog and spread the word 🧡🖤

[atlafan]

Office Neighbors - Part Eight

a/n: a very Andy heavy part, not proofread (reblogs and feedback are super helpful!)

warnings: slight angst, fluff, and smut

words: 15K

masterpost

“I’m not gonna let you talk to her until you both settle down!” Harry shouts at his mother and sister.

“We’re settled, just dial the number!” Anne shouts back.

“Yeah, the TV can only occupy all the kids for so long.” Gemma says. “She’s probably waiting as it is.”

Harry was ready to throw up. He couldn’t remember the last time he introduced a woman to his family, and it wouldn’t even be a proper introduction since it was over FaceTime.

“Okay, okay, Christ.” He swipes your contact. “Just let me say hi to her first before you two jump in.”

You answer after a moment, you were sitting up on your bed at Phil and Julian’s. You made sure your hair and makeup were done, and your headphones were in, just in case there were wandering ears.

“Hi, Y/N.” Harry smiles warmly.

“Hey! How’s everything going?”

“Good! Everyone’s good. We all decorated my sister’s tree last night.”

“Oh, fun! Phil made sweet potato pancakes they were so good.”

“That’s great.” He smiles.

“Yeah.” You smile.

You see a hand smack Harry’s shoulder and you suck your lips into your mouth to keep from laughing.

“Right, well, my mum and sister are here…” He side eyes Gemma. “Would you like to say hello?”

“I would.” You nod. It was the whole point of the FaceTime, but you thought it was sweet he was being so formal. Both Anne and Gemma come into view and smile. “Hello! It’s nice to sort of meet you both.” You chuckle.

“Same to you, dear!” Anne says brightly. “Oh, Harry, she’s lovely.” She whispers, but you hear her.

“Yeah, I know it’s not the same as in person, but this works.” Gemma says. “Hope we didn’t wake you up too early for this…”

“Not at all! I was up anyways getting some work done. How’s the weather over there? It flurried a bit, but it hasn’t been too bad.”

“Freezing rain here, I’m afraid.” Harry says.

“Is that Y/N? Hi, Y/N!” Andy says as he comes into the kitchen where the meeting was occurring.

“Andy.” Harry sighs. “You’re supposed to be-“

“Oh, just give the damn phone to me. You know her plenty, Mum and I don’t, so shoo!” Gemma snatches the phone from Harry, and Anne follows her into the adjacent room.

“Well…isn’t that just perfect.” Harry says to Andy.

“Auntie Gem told me to do it, sorry.” Andy giggles and runs out of the room while Harry chases him.

“Sorry about that, things can get a little hectic around here.” Anne laughs.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” You chuckle.

“So, where are you this week?” Gemma asks.

“I’m staying at my brother’s place in Boston. I’ll be here until the day after New Year’s. My friends and I usually get together for the fireworks and all that.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun!” Anne says. “I can’t remember the last time I actually stayed up late enough to watch the ball drop.” She laughs. “I’m usually home watching all the kids while Harry and Gemma go out.”

“Yeah, we have a couple of parties of our own to go to. Lots of friends for Harry to see. He’s quite popular amongst our group.”

“That’s nice, you share a lot of the same friends?”

“Oh, sure.” Gemma shrugs. “We’re only a couple of years apart in age, and we worked at the same bakery growing up, sort of attached at the hip.”

“You two were awfully cute. They’d even willingly wear matching Halloween costumes.” Anne says. “Remember the year you were Mario and he was Princess Peach?”

“Now that’s something I’d love to see.” You say.

“Okay!” Harry bolts into the room and snatches his phone. “Think you’ve all chatted long enough.”

“You got an entire meal with her family, I think it’s only fair-“

“Mum! Lizzy won’t stop touching me!”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Seems like your kids need you.” Harry sneers.

“Wonderful, three brats.” She rolls her eyes. “It was nice chatting, Y/N.” Gemma says as she leaves the room the scope out the scene.

“I better go help her.” Anne chuckles as follows out as well.

“So…Princess Peach, huh? You don’t still happen to have that costume do you? I bet you look lovely in a dress.”

“I was five.” Harry rolls his eyes. “And you’re right, I look exceptional in a dress.”

“They’re very nice, your mum and sister. Um…is Gemma not married, or…?”

“She’s widowed, unfortunately.” Harry whispers. “That’s why my mum lives with her, she needed help with her kids and I obviously wasn’t around. It sucked, he had cancer.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been a few years, she’s doing much better, but she doesn’t date. She’s tried, but it’s too much.”

“I don’t blame her.”

“Did you have a nice Hanukkah with your family?”

“I did! I refereed a game of dreidel for my younger cousins, it was pretty funny.”

“You really like kids, don’t you?”

“I love kids.” You blush.

“Suppose that’s why you’re so good with them then, huh?” He was blushing too, but he was giving you that toothy smile you loved so much.

“I miss you, Harry.”

“I miss you too.”

“Dad…you better get in there…Lizzy and Ritchie have started to wrestle.”

“Better go pry them apart.” Harry chuckles. “I’ll talk to you soon, love you.”

“Love you too, bye Andy!”

You sigh as you hang up. You knew you’d physically get meet everyone someday so it would be less chaotic, but it was nice to meet them nonetheless.

//

On New Year’s Eve you throw on a black turtleneck bodysuit and a pair of jeans with some booties. You head out with Phil and Julian once they’re both home from work to meet your other friends at the bar. You send Harry a quick selfie, wanting to still look cute before you inevitably got sweaty and drunk. It was already the New Year in London, and Harry had sent you a selfie before he went out. It was sweet.

“Y/N!” Your best friend Nora squeals as soon as you see her.

“Hey!” You squeal back and hug her.

“It’s so good to see you, I’m so glad we could get together for this.”

“Same here, I know hard it is for you to get away…”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Wouldn’t miss a New Year’s in Boston. Hi Phil, hi, Julian.”

“Hi, Nora.” Phil smiles. “Y/N, we’re gonna go get a booth.”

“Okay, I think I’ll hang by the bar for bit with the crew.”

You say hello to your other friends: Claudia, Mark, and Darcy.

“Okay, so, where’s your man? We’ve been dying to meet him.” Mark says.

“He’s in London with his family.” You shrug. “You’ll meet him eventually, I promise.”

“Too bad, Nora says he’s quite the hunk.” Claudia says.

You side eye your friend as she laughs.

“You send me the best pictures, how could I not share?”

“His tattoos are really interesting.” Darcy says. “Never thought you’d be into a guy so inked up.”

“Neither did I, but I like them a lot.” You bite the rim of your cup and smile.

“I feel like it’s been forever since you’ve been serious with someone.” Mark says. “What’s it about this one?”

“Yeah, doesn’t he have a kid?” Claudia asks.

“He does…and I care a lot about him. His name is Andy, and he’ll be twelve in May.”

“Twelve?!” They all exclaim.

“How old is this guy?” Darcy asks.

“He’ll be thirty-three at the beginning of February. Would you all calm down? He had his son young, it is what it is.” You shrug.

“I knew you wanted to be a mom, but shit.” Nora laughs. “Whatever, you’re happy, right?”

“Very.”

“Then that’s all that matters. Now, I’m much more interested to hear how your love life is going, Mark.”

“Single and ready to find some New Year’s dick tonight.”

You all burst into laughter and clink your glasses. You all end up bar hopping a bit, saying goodbye to your brother and letting him know you’ll be back whenever, which he has no problem with. You get pretty sloshed with your friends, and you ended up at a dance club. You were having an incredible time. The club had plenty of TV’s going so a little before midnight, you all huddle together to watch the ball drop. You all kiss each other’s cheeks, it was cute. You feel your phone buzzing, and it’s a FaceTime request from Harry.

“Hello?!” You shout.

“Happy New Year!” He smiles. You nearly melt. He was still in bed, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses yet, and his hair was all floppy. “Where are you?”

“At a club, and-“

“Is that him?!” Nora shouts and goes behind your shoulder. “Oooo, look at him! Hiya hot stuff!”

“Isn’t it, like, really early in London?” Claudia slurs to Darcy.

“Yeah, babe, isn’t it, like, six in the morning?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I was getting up anyways, and I wanted to call.”

“Aww.” You and your friends swoon.

“Well…I can see you’re busy, so I’ll let you go.”

“Okay! Happy New Year, love you!” You hang up before he can say it back.

“Damn, Y/N, he’s handsome.” Mark says.

“Mhm, and he’s allll mine.” You giggle with your friends.

//

“There’s my baby!” Paige exclaims as Andy gets off the plane. She throws her arms around him and kisses him. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah! Grammy and Auntie Gem say hi.” He holds her hand as they make their way to baggage.

“Oh, that’s nice of them. You had fin with Lizzy and Ritchie?”

“Yeah, we got to play the new game Y/N got me.”

“What game is that?”

“What Do You Meme, it’s a lot of fun.”

“Well, that was very nice of her to get that for you. Seemed like you got a lot of other nice gifts from when we spoke on Christmas.”

“Mhm, and Grammy got me a ton of new clothes. She got me those sneakers I’ve been wanting.”

“She sure has an eye for fashion, huh?” She chuckles. “So, we’re going to grab your bag and then Noah and Rachel are waiting in the car. Are you too tired for lunch?”

“No, I slept pretty well on the plane. One of the attendants sat with me and held my hand when we took off.”

“I love it when they do that for you, that’s so nice.”

“Gram’s not coming for lunch?”

“No, she ended up going to New York with Auntie Allie for New Year’s…she’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Alright, it’ll be nice then, just the four of us.”

“Yeah, it will. Everyone missed you, honey.”

Andy actually enjoys his lunch with everyone. He and Rachel talk about their new gifts. It warmed Paige’s heart to being having some real family time. The few days Andy is home is wonderful, and come Sunday, you show up to pick Andy up. You’d be having brunch with Paige before taking Andy back to Harry’s. You made sure to stock the fridge with all his favorites already. You take a deep breath, and ring the bell. After a couple of moment, Paige answers the door.

“Y/N!” She says brightly. “Come on in, you must be freezing.”

“Hi, thanks.” You smile and enter the home. She takes your coat and hangs it up. It was oddly quiet. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, well, my sister came back with my mom late last night, so they’re out with Andy now having a brunch of their own, and Rachel has Hebrew school on Sunday mornings, and they usually get lunch together after that. So it’s just us two, I’ve got quite the spread for us, come into the kitchen.”

She really did have quite the spread. Bagels, cream cheese, eggs, juice, and fruit.

“Wow, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“Oh, sure I did. Would you like some coffee?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

She nods and gestures for you to sit while she gets the coffee.

“I’m so glad we could finally get together to do this. I feel like I know you, but don’t at the same time.” She sips her coffee and makes up a plate, as do you. “Did you have a nice holiday?”

“I did, yeah, thank you. Did you?”

“As good as it could have been, I suppose.” She nods. “It was weird without my dad, but that’s life.” She shrugs.

“I’m so sorry, it must have been difficult.”

“It was weird, all of the fun helped distract us, but I know it was really hard for my mother. The first holidays without them are always the hardest.” You nod at her. “Anyways, I…oh, that’s a lovely necklace.” She points to your palm tree, and you clutch at it.

“Thank you, um, Harry got it for me.” You swallow.

“This doesn’t need to be weird, Y/N.” She smirks. “You’re in his life, which means you’re in my son’s life, and I just wanna know more about you, that’s all. This isn’t a one way street either, if there’s anything you’d like to know about me I’d be happy to answer.”

“I know…I have to admit, I was a little nervous to be one on one with you. I hope you know, I care a lot about Andy.”

“No need to be nervous. Harry trusts you, so I do too.” She shrugs. “He’s always been such a great judge in character.”

“Can I ask…how did you two meet?”

“Oh, god, years ago when we were in college. He came to our school when he was a sophomore, and joined our group. I was dating this other guy at the time, but we became fast friends. He was always so sweet. The other guy and I broke up eventually, and then I can’t quite recall what it was, but long story short Harry and I got together. I graduated a year ahead of him, but we made it work.”

“And Andy was an accident?”

“He certainly wasn’t planned.” She laughs. “I’ll spare you the details, but we were shocked to say the least when we found out. I was already working at the law office, thank god, so I had some decent benefits and maternity leave and all that.”

“Were you scared being so young?”

“A little…I was more so worried at the time about being so far away from Harry. I had started working in this area, so we were long distance. I was grateful he found a grad program in the area that worked for him. I sort of felt guilty for making him grow up so fast, but I got over it. He really stepped up.”

“He’s a great dad.”

“He really is! He was a natural right away.”

“And…it just didn’t work out between you two?”

“I was sort of stubborn, and a little resentful. He was getting to work on his career, and I felt like I was in a rut. My parents were getting to me…and…one morning I woke up and looked at him and realized I just wasn’t in love. When we were dating in school it was just fun, you know? I hadn’t really been given the chance to see if I wanted something future wise with him. For all I knew, he could have decided to go back to London, you know? It was awful because we were living together, and we had Andy, and I just couldn’t figure out how to end it, and then…well, he asked me to marry him, and that was when I knew it had to be over, so I told him no and we broke up. I felt sick over it because I knew I hurt him.”

You blink as you take all of the information in. Sometimes people just weren’t compatible, and that was okay, and maybe Harry had been looking at things with rose colored glasses.

“His parents were divorced growing up, so I think he thought getting married would make everything better. We fought a lot, things just stopped being fun.” She shrugs. “But that was all a long time ago, and we worked on things for Andy’s sake, and I’d like to think we’re doing right by him now. He raves about you, they both do, and it makes me so happy to hear it.”

“You really want what’s best for Harry, huh?”

“I do.” She nods. “And for my son, obviously. I know at times it may seem weird that Harry and I are sort of close…especially after my father died, but it’s really not always like that. It’s not like we text or talk every day. We only meet up when we absolutely have to. I think sometimes when we see each other more we fall into that old patter of friendship, but it doesn’t go further than that, I hope you can see that. I love Noah, I really feel like he’s the person I’m supposed to be with.”

“I…feel that way about Harry.” You mutter and sip your coffee, but you don’t miss her smile.

“That makes me so happy to hear, you have no idea.” She gives your hand a squeeze. “So, tell me, you’re working on your PhD, and then what?”

“Hopefully become a full professor at some point. I really like working at the university, so I won’t be going anywhere once I finish.”

“I just hope they give you a pay bump afterwards. Harry had to fight for his, he honestly almost left when they said no, but they didn’t want to lose him.”

“Right.”

“You’re just on a yearly contract, right?”

“Yeah, I can’t go for tenure until I have my doctorate.”

“Do you have anything planned for while you’re with Andy?”

“I have a couple of craft ideas, yeah. You’re not mad he wanted to stay with me?”

“No, I get it. He was so annoyed last year when he had to get up earlier for school and all that. Plus…right now he still enjoys seeing my mother, my biggest fear is that if he’s here a lot he may not like the visits as much. She’s sweet on him now, but she has this way of saying these little things that eventually just get under your skin.”

“God, I’m so sorry, that must be so difficult.”

“I’m just glad she has her own section of the house to putter around in.”

“Would she ever go back to living in a condo or anything? Maybe there’s some type of old folks community she could go to.”

“They were living in one before, but she really doesn’t want to live alone, and I don’t blame her. As shrill as she can be, I know she likes being around people.” She sighs. “Look, I guess I just wanted to say that I’m glad Harry has you, and I’m glad Andy has you too. Becoming a blended family isn’t easy, and I’m sure Harry having to watch me move on wasn’t easy either. He had started talking about you here and there, his new office neighbor, and how funny she was.” Paige grins. “I knew right away he had a little crush on you. I’d never seen him play it so cool because I’ve only ever known him as a flirt, but I know it’s different when you work with someone.”

“Andy told me something similar. God, how embarrassing for him to be gushing about me.” You chuckle.

“No, it was so sweet! I remember when he asked if he could bring a friend to Andy’s party, as if he needed my permission. We were very excited to meet you. I’m glad things have been going so well for you two.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“You and I don’t need to be best friends or anything, but I definitely want us to be friendly, you know? I look at Noah and Harry, and I know there are times they have their own squabbles, but it’s nice they get along so well. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you. I definitely don’t feel nervous around you anymore. Um, so, is there anything I should know about taking care of Andy for longer than just a few hours?”

“He’ll try to get more TV time, and he loves talking on the phone with his friends, if you don’t cap it at an hour, he’ll wrack up the phone bill. He won’t admit it, but he still likes the crust cut off his sandwiches. Oh! You’ll need to help him with his hair after he showers.”

“What does he need help with?”

“Well, there’s this special mousse he uses to help his curls really come out. Harry uses it, so he likes using it. You need to dry his hair with a t-shirt, and then comb through it. Then you have to get the mousse in your hands and run it through his hair. It’s best if he doesn’t shower right before bed because then you have to let it air dry.”

“Okay, very good to know. I don’t think I’ve been over when Harry’s helped him with that.”

“Other than that, it’s just helping him with homework and packing lunches. He’s not one of those kids that needs to sleep with you if he has a scary dream or anything like that. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me, alright?”

“Alright.” You smile at her and she smiles back. You’re able to finish the rest of your meal in peace.

A little while later Andy comes in with his Gram and Auntie Allie.

“Y/N!” He shoots over to you and gives you a hug.

“Hi, did you have a good flight and all that?”

“Yeah! I’ll go up and get my stuff.”

“Okay.” You chuckle as he races upstairs.

“You both remember Y/N from Andy’s birthday party, right?” Paige says to her sister and mother.

“Yes, hi.” Allie smiles and shakes your hand. “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” You smile. “Hello Lydia.” You shake her hand and you watch as she sizes you up.

“Hello, so, you’re taking my grandson from me?”

“Mom, please.” Paige says. “Andy wants to be able to stay at home easier with Harry gone.”

“This is home too.”

“It is, but he goes to school in another town, so it’ll be easier for him to stay with Y/N.”

“You’re always giving in so easily, Paige, you should have never let-“

“Pardon me, but what are you doing?” You say.

“Excuse me?” Lydia says.

“No, I don’t think I will. Were you seriously just about to start an argument with your daughter about her son in front me? What is wrong with you? She’s his mother, I think she knows what she’s doing. You may have zero clue about what it’s like to raise a child with someone you’re not with, but she’s doing her best. I think it takes a lot of strength and courage to change up a living arrangement the way she did. It may not be my place to say because I’m just the girlfriend of the guy who she used to be with, and I know you just lost your husband, but you need to check yourself lady.”

Allie sucks her lips in to keep from laughing, and Paige has to do the same. This was prime entertainment.

“Maybe she feels like she can’t stand up to you because she’s trying to keep the peace, but she shouldn’t have to do that in her own home. You should be grateful she didn’t ship you off to a retirement home. I’m sure you have a lot of things to be angry about, but let it go. Your daughter’s made a wonderful life for herself, and I think you should recognize that before it’s too late.”

Andy comes down with his things, and goes over to give everyone a hug.

“Thanks again for lunch Gram.”

“You’re, um, more than welcome sweetheart.” She was in shock.

“See on Friday, Mum.” Andy says as he hugs his mother. “Bye, Auntie Allie, love you.”

“Love you too.”

“It was nice seeing everyone. Thanks again for brunch, Paige, it was wonderful.” You and Andy head out and leave them all stunned.

“Oh, I like her.” Allie says with a laugh.

“Who speaks to a stranger that way?!” Lydia says.

“She had a point.” Paige says. “Who starts an argument in front of a stranger? And, fuck it, she’s not a stranger! She’s Harry’s girlfriend, his serious girlfriend, who I happen to like, and Andy adores her. She was right mom, you need to check yourself. Take some time to figure out your priorities because I can’t live like this! I’m walking on eggshells in my own home. My home, not yours.”

“Okay, can everyone just take a deep breath?” Allie says. “Let’s just sit down and have a conversation without this becoming a screaming match.”

//

As you drive Andy to Harry’s, you hear him trying to bite back a laugh.

“What’s so funny back there?”

“Nothing, it’s just…I’ve heard my dad raise his voice at Gram before, and hearing you do the same thing just proves you two are a good couple.”

“Oh god, you heard me?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Thanks for standing up for my mom.”

“Of course! She’s a really nice person, she doesn’t deserve to be talked down to in her own home like that. I couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.” You scoff. “Anyways, what do you say when we get back we get you unpacked and then we talk lunches for the week?”

“Sounds good to me. Thanks again for wanting to stay with me.”

“I’m happy to do it. It’ll be fun.”

“Do you think…um, if it goes well, that you’ll move in?”

Your eyes grow wide and your heart skips a beat.

“That’s a conversation I’d need to have with your dad, Andy. It’s sort of a big deal for two people to move in together. I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think I’m ready for that, but I really do enjoy staying over when I do.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it.” He shrugs.

You turn up the music and take a deep breath. Once you get Andy inside, and he unpacks his things you go into the kitchen with him to discuss lunches for the week.

“Just pb and j’s are fine, it doesn’t need to be fancy.”

“I know, but I wanna make sure you’re not hungry. I could cut up some carrots for you and put some chips in there too. Would you like that?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He shrugs. “Are you gonna make baked ziti tomorrow? Dad usually gets up early on Monday mornings to get it all together and then he just throws it in the oven when we get home.”

“Sure, I can make that. I don’t know if it’ll come out as good though.”

“I’ll get up early to help you, hold on a second.” Andy goes down to the basement where Harry has another freezer and comes back up with a container of sauce. “This needs to thaw overnight in the fridge.”

“Thank god you remembered, I wouldn’t have even thought about it. So it’s pretty much just boil the pasta and get it together with the sauce?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright, I shouldn’t need your help then. What time should I wake you up in the morning?”

“6:30.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Well, I know you had a big lunch, so just let me know when you feel hungry and I’ll whip up something for dinner.”

“Sounds good, I’m gonna go hang out in my room.”

“I’ll be up in the loft working if you need me.” You smile.

You: hey baby, I’m at your place with Andy. I’m gonna make him pb and j’s for lunch this week :)

Harry: that sounds great! Just make sure to cut the crust off, he won’t tell you to do it, but that’s how he likes it

You: so I’ve heard…I had a nice time with Paige today

Harry: not too awkward?

You: not really no, although, I did tell off her mom

Harry: you did?!

You: yeah, she was about to start some argument with Paige in front of me and I was like uhhh I think the fuck not!

Harry: lmao good for you, like I said, Lydia can be a bitch

You: for real

Harry: what are you up to now?

You: I’m gonna get some work done, wbu

Harry: just reading, the house is finally a little quieter…got my big meeting tomorrow

You: I know! I can’t wait to hear all about it

Harry: maybe we could FaceTime after??

You: definitely!

Harry: maybe we could plan it for when I’m getting ready for bed 😈 😈 😈

You: you’re an idiot

Harry: come on! Could be fun

You: normally I’d be game for phone sex, but at the time you’d be going to bed, I’d be eating dinner with your son, not exactly appropriate

Harry: maybe you could just send me a sexy pic then

You: a sexy pic?! How old are you???

Harry: 32, you’ve got a shit memory babe

You: you’re not helping your case

Harry: just teasing!

You: mhm, I’m going to do some work now

Harry: okay, okay I’m sorry

You: don’t be I just blah because I got my period this morning…so no sexy pics, but maybe when Andy goes back to Paige’s we could get a little frisky over the phone

Harry: sounds like an excellent compromise to me darling

//

You get up early the next morning to put the baked ziti together, and then you get Andy’s lunch box all set. You take a quick shower, and get dressed before going to wake up Andy. You gently open his door and peep your head in.

“Andy?” You coo. “It’s time to get up.” You hear him groan. “I’ve been told not to leave until you actually get up.”

“Ugh, fine.” He rips his blanket off and puts his feet on the floor. “Happy?”

“Very.” You smile. “Any requests for breakfast?”

“Oatmeal, please.” He yawns and you nod.

You drop Andy off at school on time, and wave to him as he walks inside. Morning one is done, you can do this.

Andy goes to his locker and puts what he doesn’t need away, and grabs his things for his first few classes.

“Andy!” Brandon exclaims and hugs him.

“Oof!” He giggles. “Almost knocked me over.”

“Sorry.” Brandon steps back and clears his throat. “How was London?”

“It was great, I had so much fun. How was your holiday?”

“It was good. Connecticut isn’t as exciting as London though.” He laughs and they both head to homeroom.

They sit in their seats and talk with their other friends. Their teacher comes in speaking with another student. Andy does a double take and his eyes grow wide. It was a girl with long, flowing brown hair. She had it up in a ponytail on the top of her head, held with a blue scrunchie.

“Hey, who’s that?” He asks his friends.

“Never seen her before.” Brandon says.

“Everyone!” The teacher says after the second bell rings. “Let’s settle down. I hope you all had a wonderful break. Today I’m excited to introduce a new student, Caroline Stearn, I hope you all will give her a warm welcome. Caroline, would you like to say a few things about yourself?”

“Um…sure? Hi, I’m Caroline, I just moved here from Maine…my mom just got a teaching job at the university down the road and my dad also just started working at the university, but he works in IT. I have three older sisters, they’re all in high school.”

“Thank you Caroline, why don’t you have a seat in front of Andy over there?”

She nods and does as told. She smiles at Andy and he smiles back. The teacher starts talking about whatever news the students need before homeroom is over.

“I’m Andy.” He whispers, and she turns around almost surprised.

“Nice to meet you.” She smiles.

“I was new here last year…but I came from a school a couple towns over.” He smirks. “You can sit with us at lunch if you want.”

“Really?” She sounds relieved. “That’d be great, thanks.”

He nods and she faces back front. He looks over at Brandon who was making a face at him. Andy mouths ‘what’ at him, and Brandon rolls his eyes. Andy felt nervous, but he wasn’t sure why.

//

“Carline, how’s your first day going so far?” Tyler asks her during lunch.

“It’s okay. “ She shrugs. “Everyone seems nice so far.”

“Do you miss living in Maine at all?” Andy asks. She was sitting next to him.

“Honestly, not really.” She giggles. “We were from a really small town with nothing to do.” Everyone at the table bursts out laughing. “What?” Her face was red now.

“And this town doesn’t scream small town to you?” Brandon says. “The closest arcade is thirty minutes away, same with the movie theater. There’s literally nothing to do.”

“My class sizes back home were ten people max. There’s like twenty of us here.” She says shyly and takes a bite of her sandwich. She sees Andy’s and smiles. “You don’t like the crust either?”

“No.” He smiles at her. “You know what’s funny? My dad’s girlfriend made this for me, and I didn’t even have to ask her to cut it off. She’s like, psychic or something.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s staying with you, right?” Brandon chimes in.

“Mhm, she told off my Gram yesterday. It was so funny. She’s so cool, I’m really glad my dad’s with her. He can be so lame sometimes.” He rolls his eyes, and then looks at Caroline. “Sorry, that must all sound confusing.”

“It’s okay. Maybe we could get together some time and you could explain it to me.”

Andy nearly chokes on his sandwich. He takes a sip of his water, and starts nodding.

“Yeah, um, we could definitely do that.”

“Cool.” She smiles.

“Cool.” He smiles back, and then look up at Brandon who just rolls his eyes.

//

Since you had time before classes started back up in a couple of more weeks, you decide to go to the library to get some work done, rather than go to your office. It would almost be too quiet. Normally you’d just sleep in, but it was almost good you needed to be up for Andy, it would keep you in a routine. Lisa was hoping to see a very rough draft of your work once the second semester started.

You get a fuck ton done before needing to pick Andy up at 2:30. You decide to stop off at Dunkin beforehand to surprise him with a hot chocolate as a treat. The first day back to school after a break always felt long as a kid, so you thought you’d do something to potentially perk him up. As you pull up you see Andy walking out with Brandon, but also with a young girl. He waves goodbye to Brandon and hangs back with the girl.

“Thanks for being so nice to me today.”

“It’s not like you made it hard…” He blushes. “Um, so, you were thinking maybe Thursday after school?”

“Yeah! It would have to be your house, though, we’re still unpacking.”

“I’ll ask my dad’s girlfriend, I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Okay…I’m excited.”

“Me too.”

“Oh! There’s my mom’s car, I better go. Bye, Andy.”

“Bye, Caroline.”

Andy sees your car and races over, getting into the back seat.

“Hi, how was school?”

“It was…really great actually.”

“Oh, good. Here, I got you a hot chocolate.”

“You’re the best, Y/N! Thanks.”

“You’re welcome…um, who was that girl you were just talking to?” You ask as you start to drive away.

“Oh, that was Caroline. She’s new, I helped her out a little bit today. I was actually sort of hoping she could come over after school Thursday.” He mutters.

“I’ll have to ask your dad if girls are allowed over.” You smirk. “You might have to hang out in a more open area.”

“Brandon and I don’t have to do that…”

“Very true, but even still, you and Brandon don’t keep the door closed when he’s over.”

“You got me there.” He shrugs. “I’m sure Dad will say yes.”

“When do your basketball practices start?”

“Next Tuesday.”

“Do you have everything you need for that?”

“Yup, I got a ton of new stuff for Christmas.”

“Okay, cool, just wanted to make sure. So…Caroline’s nice?”

“Super nice, and…her smile is pretty, so are her eyes. They’re like…the prettiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh!”

“She…she gave me the butterflies, Y/N.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Already?”

“Yeah, and now I’m confused because I thought Brandon gave me butterflies.”

“Well…sometimes two people can give you butterflies, that’s okay.”

“But she’s a girl and he’s a boy…why am I so weird?” He groans.

“Oh, Andy, you’re not weird at all. A lot of people feel like you about boys and girls.”

“They do?”

“Sure! One of my really good friends Darcy likes boys and girls.”

“How does she decide which one she likes better?”

“Well, she doesn’t.” You shrug as you pull into the driveway. You both get into the house and sit on the couch to continue your conversation. Andy holds a throw pillow to his stomach. “I’ve been around her when she’s had a boyfriend, and when she’s had a girlfriend, both make her equally happy. I think for her, at the end of the day, she’s attracted to the type of person they are, so the gender doesn’t really matter.”

“My dad said something like that once, he says he just likes the person and the rest doesn’t really matter. And then I asked him if he liked boys like that and he said no, so I was just more confused.”

“Sexuality is an ever evolving thing, Andy. You may decide you like one thing now, but in a few years you could like something else. I know it all feels stressful and confusing, but remember you’re eleven. You have so much time to figure it all out.”

“So…you only like boys?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know exactly. I’m just not attracted to women in a way that would make me want to date one.”

“Caroline is, like, really pretty. I’ve never really thought girls were pretty before.”

“Could just be a sign you’re growing up.” You give him a soft smile. “Can I ask…if you think Caroline is pretty, what do you think of Brandon?”

“Brandon’s…ugh, Brandon’s cute, Y/N.” Andy runs a hand over his face. “I like his smile too, and I mean, look the bracelet he made me. I made him one too, but he’s not as artsy as I am, and it’s literally perfect.” He holds his wrist out so you can get a better look at the bracelet.

“It’s a beautiful bracelet.”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“When you ask my dad if Caroline can come over, can you please not mention anything else to him? I don’t want him to know about any of this.”

“Andy, he just wants to be there for you…”

“I know, but…he’ll just be so, like, after school special about it. Then he’ll tell my mom about it, and I really don’t want her knowing.”

“I don’t know if I can keep a secret from your dad, Andy.”

“You wouldn’t be! Please, Y/N?”

“Okay…I’ll keep this stuff between us.”

“Thank you.” He sighs with relief and leans forward to hug you.

//

After dinner you end up FaceTiming with Harry. He speaks with Andy for a bit first, and then it’s your turn. You take the phone into the bedroom for some privacy while Andy takes a shower.

“Hi.” You smile at him.

“Hey, baby.”

“How was your meeting?”

“Could not have gone better.”

“Really? That’s great!”

“They loved what I had, and signed me write another piece for the journal!”

“Harry, that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks. So, how was your first real day with him?”

“It was good.” You bite your bottom lip. “Can he have a friend over Thursday?”

“Sure, I don’t care if Brandon comes over.”

“It’s not Brandon…”

“Oh, Tyler then?”

“No, this is a new friend…a girl named Caroline.”

“A girl?! Wow, yeah, that’s fine. Did he tell you anything about her?”

“We actually had a long conversation about a lot of things today, but he asked me not to tell you and I don’t wanna betray his trust.”

“He…doesn’t want me to know something?”

“He doesn’t want an after school special lecture or whatever.”

“I do not do that.” He scoffs. “You really won’t tell me anything?”

“All I’m going to say is that he’s extremely confused, and I validated his feelings, and then he hugged me.”

“Does he like this girl?”

“He thinks she’s pretty.”

“And what about Brandon?”

“Can’t say.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Harry, I’m stuck here. I really wanna respect him. He’s not in any danger or anything so I think it’s okay that the conversation stayed between he and I.”

“I don’t like it.” He pouts.

“I’m sorry, baby doll.” You pout back.

“Y/N?! I need some help with my hair!”

“Welp, duty calls.” You giggle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Thanks for being there for him. I’m happy he has you to talk to.”

“Me too.”

You end the call and meet Andy in the living room. He looked incredibly cute with the t-shirt wrapped around his head. He sits down on the floor in front of the couch and you sit down. You comb through his hair as carefully as you can, and then you apply the mousse. You hear him sigh and it makes you smile.

“Wanna watch TV before you go read?” You ask him when you’re done.

“Yeah, can I put my show on?”

“Of course.” You smile. He gets cozy next to you, and you smirk when you see he selects Family Guy. “Andy…are you old enough to be watching this?”

“Dad lets me watch this all the time, it’s funny.” He shrugs.

“Do you even get half of the jokes?”

“Not really, but it’s still funny.”

“Okay.” You shake your head.

“Would you play with my hair?”

“Sure, do you wanna rest your head on my lap?”

“Yeah.” He smiles and grabs a pillow to get comfortable. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You’d make a good mom.” He says with a yawn as he keeps his eyes on the TV.

“Oh, um, thank you, Andy.”

//

When Thursday rolls around, you pick Andy up, and you’re also met with Caroline getting into the backseat of your car.

“Hello, you must be Caroline, it’s nice to meet you.” You smile.

“Nice to meet you too.” She smiles.

“I’m Andy’s dad’s girlfriend. I hear your mom works at the university? So do I.”

“Oh, really? She works in the Psychology department…my dad works there too, but he’s in IT.”

“Well, feel free to tell your mom to look out for me and Harry. We teach in the Communication department.”

“Okay.” Caroline smiles.

You get the two of them home and fix them with a snack. You tell them you’ll be up in the loft and you remind Andy to keep his door open.

“She’s really nice.” Caroline says as she sits down on Andy’s bed.

“Yeah, she’s the first girlfriend my dad’s had in a long time. I like her a lot.”

“How long have they been together for?”

“I don’t know…seven months I think.”

“Wow, that’s a long time!”

“Super long. They were friends for a while before they got together too, so they knew each other really well.”

“That’s so sweet! My parents met on a blind date.” She giggles. “How did your mom and dad meet?”

“In college I guess.” He shrugs. “She lives about thirty minutes from here, I see her every other weekend.”

“Does she date anyone?”

“She’s engaged actually. His name is Noah and he has a daughter, Rachel. She’s a year younger than us.”

“Wow, it’s like that movie Blended.”

“Yeah! They’re nice enough, and Noah makes my mum happy, so that’s all I care about.”

“That’s, like, really grown up of you.” Caroline was in awe of Andy. He blushes slightly and clears his throat.  

“Enough about me, what’s it like having three older sisters?”

“It can be fun and annoying. Like, they help me with my hair and clothes, but other times it feels like we’re always fighting. I feel bad for dad.”

“Why?”

“Because they all get their…monthly visits at the same time.”

“Oh! That video they showed us in health class was gross.”

“Did they show you the one about the girl who gets it for the first time, and then they talk about a girl’s insides?”

“Yeah! And then we had to watch the same one, but about boys, and then we had to watch a video about giving birth…”

“Ew, and they actually show the baby coming out, right?”

“Yeah…nasty.” They both shiver and then they both laugh.

“I know you guys said there wasn’t much to do around here, but what do you do for fun?”

“I play basketball with Brandon, his dad is our coach. Winter program on Fridays is fun. Do you ski?”

“I do! I can’t wait for tomorrow. Would you wanna sit with me on the bus?”

“Well…I would, but…I sit with Brandon.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can just sit near you, maybe? Are you two best friends?”

“Yeah, we are.” Andy blushes. “And yeah, you can definitely sit near me.”

“Cool.” She smiles and grabs her books out of her bag, and Andy does the same. “You’d been so great to me all week. I’m really glad that seat was open in front of you in homeroom.”

“Me too.”

Later that night, after Caroline’s mom picked her up, you and Andy watch a little TV on couch. He had been quiet.

“So, do you have everything together for winter program tomorrow?”

“Yup, got my ski bag ready to go.”

“Make sure to pack what you need for your mum’s, she’s gonna get you after school tomorrow.”

“And then I’ll see you Monday after school, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I had a lot of fun with you this week. You make me not miss my dad as much.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. It’s okay to miss him, though, I miss him a lot too.”

“You forgot to say that you had a lot of fun with me too.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, did I?” Andy likes praise too, it seems. “Well, I had loads of fun with you this week, and we’ll have loads more next week.”

“I hope we get a snow day or something. Brandon’s dad usually takes us sledding.”

“Maybe you could bring Caroline with you too. She’s very nice.”

“Yeah, I like her a lot. She asked if she could sit with me tomorrow, but I had to tell her no because I sit on the bus with Brandon.”

“That’s good you didn’t flake on Brandon.”

“He’d kill me if I did, although, I feel like he’s getting a taste of his own medicine.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when he was with Molly? Everything was about her, now he knows how it feels.”

“Right, he’d talk about her a lot.”

“Mhm.”

“Do you talk about Caroline a lot?”

“Pretty much, it’s hard not to. She’s funny, and she always smells like cherries.” He swoons.

“And to think you’ve only known her for four days.” You chuckle.

“I wonder if she’ll go on the lift with me tomorrow, shoot, I should have asked her while she was here.”

“Do you have her number?”

“Yeah…”

“So text her and ask. Tell her you had a nice time hanging out, and then ask her if she’ll save a run for you tomorrow.”

“You’re brilliant, Y/N! I’m gonna go do that now and then get ready for bed. Goodnight!”

“Night.” You smile and watch him run off to his room.

//

You felt like a full on basketball-mom sitting at Andy’s practice. Watching all the boys was pretty fun, you never got to see Andy be sporty other than going on hikes. There were some other parents and older siblings in the gym watching as well. You got some funny looks from some, and others were quite friendly. You brought your laptop with you to get some work done, but you ended up taking pictures for Harry to see. You knew it killed him to miss Andy’s first week back in action.

Brandon’s dad had the boys running drills, back and forth, sprinting up and down the court. He had them all working on their dribbling, and at the end he had them scrimmage a bit. You noticed how when the boys had to stand and listen to directions that Brandon and Andy were often leaning on each other mindlessly, or touching in some fashion. When practice ends, Brandon chats with Andy quick.

“Did you wanna do homework over the phone later?” Brandon asks.

“I can’t. I need to shower and eat, and then I told Caroline I’d call her.”

“Oh…”

“Sorry, maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure, yeah, maybe you could just come over after school?”

“Well, Y/N is watching me for a reason, you know? You could come to place, though.”

“Yeah! I’ll ask my parents.”

“Great, well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Andy comes over to you. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, you looked great out there.”

“Thanks, can Brandon come over tomorrow?”

“Sure.” You shrug. “Come on, I ordered a pizza for dinner and I need to go pick it up. Thought it would be a nice break from my cooking.”

“I like the way you cook, but pizza sounds great.”

//

Brandon was fuming, and you could feel it. Andy had accidentally invited Caroline over too, and you were just trying to keep them all happy. They were all playing video games in the living room, and you popped them some popcorn. They had all done their homework together, but you could feel the tension when you gave them dinner. Luckily they’d be getting picked up soon so you could chat with Andy about it. Caroline’s phone goes off.

“Oh! My dad’s here.” Andy pauses the game to walk her to the door. “Thanks for having me.” She gives Andy a hug goodbye after she gets her coat on, and heads out.

“Isn’t she cool, B? She knows how to play Smash Brothers.” Andy says as he sits back down with Brandon.

“It’s not rocket science.” He mumbles.

“Are you okay? You were sort of quiet…”

“Well, I thought just you and I were hanging out today.”

“I told you at school, when she and talked last night I just sort of told her she could come by. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. You used to do it with Molly all the time.”

“Yeah, but Molly was my girlfriend, that’s different.”

“How is that any different?”

“Because she’d let me kiss her after. You wouldn’t say no to someone who lets them kiss you.”

“Maybe you should go back to kissing her then.” Andy rolls his eyes. “I like hanging out with Caroline…”

“More than me?”

“No…it’s just different.”

“Well, it sort of feels like you have a new best friend.”

“Don’t be like that, she’s not my new best friend, she’s just a new friend. She’s really pretty. Who knows, maybe I’ll kiss her.”

“You like her enough to kiss her?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “She’s really pretty, don’t you think?”

“She’s okay.” Brandon shrugs, and he sees his phone light up. “My mom’s here, I have to go.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow.”

“See you.” They both hug before Brandon leaves.

“Andy…um…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He huffs and goes to his room. You follow after him and stand in his doorway.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted some ice cream.”

“No, thank you.” He sighs. “I feel Brandon was upset with me. I really didn’t think he’d mind it if she came.”

“Well, now you know. Maybe don’t make it a group thing.”

“He’s the only one of our friends that seems to mind her. I don’t get it.”

“Maybe he’s jealous that you’re suddenly not as available.”

“Then that makes him a hippo because he did the same thing with Molly.”

“I think you mean hypocrite.” You chuckle.

“Whatever it is, you know what I mean. This is so annoying, I acted supportive when he told me he was dating her.”

“Are you saying you want to date Caroline?”

“Maybe! It shouldn’t matter, he should be there for me. I should be able to talk about girls and stuff with him.”

“Andy did you ever stop to think that maybe Brandon is confused in the way that you’re confused?” His eyes widen at that.

“You mean…Brandon could think that I’m cute?”

“He could, yeah.”

“Oh my god.” He looks around like he’s searching for an answer. “But what if Caroline thinks I’m cute too?”

“Do you think that she thinks you’re cute?”

“There are rumors going around that she does!”

“Okay, so what do you want to do?!”

“I have no idea!” He flops onto his bed. He mumbles something into his pillow.

“What?!”

“I think I wanna ask her out!”

“Are you even allowed to date yet?!”

“I don’t know! I didn’t think I’d be feeling this way so soon so I haven’t asked!”

“Well, now I have to tell your dad what’s been going on!”

“No, you can’t!”

“I have to!”

“Okay, everybody just be cool.” Andy stands back up. “Screaming won’t get us anywhere.”

“Andy, you can’t ask her out unless your dad says it’s okay. I don’t know how he feels about you dating. You’re only eleven!”

“But I like her…”

“Then you need to wait until Harry gets home, and you need to talk to him about all of this. I won’t say a word, but you sure as hell will.” You cross your arms and so does he.

“I don’t wanna talk to him about this. He’s too romantic about everything, and then he’s gonna be like ‘my baby has a crush’.”

“Well, his baby does have a crush. It’s adorable when you think about it.”

“God, not you too.” He runs his hands over his face. “Fine, I’ll talk to him when he gets back and I won’t make a move beforehand.”

“Good.” You nod and stick your hand out for him to shake. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You went to bed exhausted as fuck that night. You needed Harry home, now.

//

The next morning at school Andy takes a deep breath before going over to Brandon at his locker.

“Hi.” He says shyly.

“Morning.” Brandon says without looking at him.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Brandon closes his locker and looks at Andy. “I should have asked first before just inviting someone else over with us.”

“It’s okay.” Brandon sighs. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, Caroline is really pretty. Do you, um, think you like like her?”

“I might…I think so, but I’m a little confused. It doesn’t matter anyways, she probably doesn’t like me like that.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Brandon smirks and throws his arm around Andy’s shoulders as they walk to homeroom. “You’re a great catch.”

“Shut up.” Andy chuckles and nudges Brandon.

//

Things seemed fine between the boys as basketball practice. You could just tell by their body language. You and Andy share a dinner of pasta and veggies after he showers.

“Did you stay here all weekend while I was at my mum’s? I didn’t even think to ask.”

“No, I went back to my place. I’ll do the same when you go back on Friday. I had water my plants and all that.”

“What’s your place like?”

“It’s just a simple two bedroom.” You shrug. “I like it a lot cause it’s all mine. I love decorating and interior design, so I’ve had fun really making it my own.”

“If you could redecorate here, what do you think you’d change?”

“Hmm…” You look around. “First off, I’d paint…everywhere. It’s dark too dark in the living room. I’d paint it a light grey, and then find some curtains with some color to make it pop. I’d also get blinds for the sliding door, I hate that there’s nothing covering it. In here I’d probably get a round table to save some space. It’s a great size dining area and kitchen, but a round table would just make more sense, I think. I’d also put a glass coffee table in the living room to make it seem like there was more space, not that it’s cramped. It’s a wonderful sized home. More spacious than most ranches I’ve seen.”

“I literally agree with everything. Dad said we could do some painting over his spring break. I think he focused a lot on getting the outside to look nice.”

“Oh, you can tell he loves landscaping. This home has a beautiful curb appeal.”

“Do you think after dinner we could watch House Hunters together again? It was a lot of fun the other night.”

“Definitely!” You smile. “How were things with Brandon today?”

“Good, I apologized for just inviting Caroline over, and he said it was okay.”

“And how was Caroline today?”

“God she…she shared her cosmic brownie with me.” Andy rests his chin his palm and pouts. “I didn’t even ask, she just offered. She’s so nice, Y/N.”

“That was very nice of her.” You chuckle. “Those are the best brownies.”

“Dad never buys them because he says they’re overly processed, so we’ll make them here. It was a real treat.”

Andy helps you clean up dinner, and then you both get settled on the couch. He had gotten into a rhythm of resting his head on a pillow in your lap and wanting you to play with his hair. He had murmured that your nails felt nice like at the hairdresser. He loved listening to your commentary while watching the extremely staged show.

“Oh good, it’s House Hunters: Renovation! I love when they show what they did with the house after they bought it.” You say.

“Me too, I always like seeing if they make it worse or better.”

“I crack up when a lot of them try to do these intricate home projects by themselves. Hire someone for fuck’s sake.” You scoff and then blush. “Sorry.”

“Mum swears all the time.” Andy giggles. “If I tell her about someone that’s bother me, or something she just says fuck ‘em, it’s her…uh…what’s what word that starts with a ph?”

“Philosophy?”

“Yeah! It’s her philosophy.”

“Not a bad one to live by.” You smirk.

After two episodes, you send Andy off to bed, and get ready for bed yourself. You setting into one of Harry’s tee shirts, and decide to listen to one of those mediation bed time stories he’s always suggesting. You plug your headphones into your phone, turn the lights off and settle in. Just as you’re beginning to relax, the story stops, and Harry’s contact photo pops up on the screen, surprising you.

“Hello?” You whisper.

“Hi, baby.”

“Harry, it must be the middle of the night over there, why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“My body pillow just isn’t doing it for me tonight, I miss you.”

“Aw, babe, I miss you too…only a few more days. You’re back Saturday, yeah?”

“Mhm...are you gonna be at my place or yours?”

“I’ll probably be at mine since Andy will be at Paige’s. We’re having loads of fun. His basketball practices are going well. You got the pictures I sent?”

“I did, thank you for sending them along. Any other news to report, or are you still holding out on me?” You could practically hear the smirk that was sure to be on his face.

“All I can say is that Andy is going to have an important question to ask you when you get back.”

“Can you give me any hints?”

“He…may want to start dating…”

“Brandon?!”

“No, actually, someone else, but I’ve said too much already. I told him he had to ask you if he even was allowed to date.”

“Oh, it’s so meaningless at this age, I don’t care, but thanks for telling him that.”

“It’s not totally meaningless. There was a boy that asked me out when I was in seventh grade, and I said yes because I thought I had a crush on him, and then I realized I wasn’t ready to date, so the next day I told him I didn’t want to. It was so awkward.”

“And…you remember all this?”

“Of course, a girl never forgets.”

“Changing subject a bit…um…are you still, uh, on the rag?”

“On the rag?!” You nearly cackle. “No, you idiot.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it!”

“Just ask me if I’m on my period or not.”

“It’s an awkward question to ask.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem fucking me when I’m ‘on the rag’.”

“Not at all. Makes me a real man if I say so myself.” You hum your response, not having the energy to say something sarcastic. “Are you in bed already?”

“I am, I was even listening to one of those bed time stories you’re always talking about.”

“Is it alright that I’m interrupting?”

“Mhm.”

“What are you wearing, Y/N?”

“One of your shirts, your Rolling Stones tee.”

“Ah, that’s a good one.”

“What about you?”

“Just my boxers.”

Harry’s voice was low, and gravely. It was sort of nice listening to it with your headphones in. Heating him in surround sound was raising goosebumps on your body. If you closed your eyes it would be like he was there next to you, talking into your ear.

“Harry, did you call to have phone sex with me?”

“Would you me mad if I did?”

“No…just wish I had one of my items here to help me along.”

“Guess you’ll have to do it the old fashioned way and use your hand.”

“What are we in medieval times?”

“Alas, fair maiden, it seems we are.” You giggle softly at him. God, he was so cute. “So, you’re okay with this?”

“Very okay with it.” You bite your bottom lip.

“Are you biting your lip?”

“Yes.” You hear him hum in understanding.

“Wish it was me doing it. I’d bite your lip and then nip across your jaw to your neck.”

“Oh, I like it when you do that. I’d like you bite every inch of me.” You smile. “You know what else I really like?”

“Tell me.”

“I like when you kiss on my tits, and then when you blow on my nipples once they’re all wet.”

“Yeah? Gets your nipples pretty hard, huh?”

“Mhm.” You lift your shirt up over your chest so you could rub your palm over one of your breasts.

“Please tell me you’re touching them.”

“I am.”

“I love your tits, Y/N. Love touching and kneading.”

“I like feeling your big hands on them, and then I like when one of your hands slides between my legs while you’re still kissing on them.”

“And you’re always so wet for me once I get there.”

“M’wet now, Harry.”

“Fuck.”

“How hard his your dick right now?”

“Very, it’s throbbing for you.”

“Why don’t you lick your palm and wrap your hand around yourself like I would. Want you to touch yourself while I am.” You hear some rustling, and then a grunt from him. “Love when you listen to me.”

“Love when you tell me what to do.” He grunts again. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m just moving my fingers around myself, feeling myself get more wet.”

“Put a finger inside and then drag it up to your clit.” He hears a soft moan come from you. “Good girl.” He breathes.

Your eyes snap open. He had never said that to you before. You kind of liked it.

“What’s that? I’m your good girl?”

“My very good girl.”

“Christ, Harry.” You groan as your fingers press circles into your clit. “Fuck, I wish you were here, want your mouth on me.”

“Where?”

“Right on my clit so you can suck on it.”

Harry’s tip was leaking so much now that he was able to spread his precome all over his length. It felt incredible, but it was nowhere near as good as being squeezed by your walls.

“I’d do that, and slip my fingers inside, pet that special spot.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Your back arches slightly as you imagine it. “Harry.” You whine.

“That’s it baby, say my name while you make yourself come.”

“Want you to come too.”

“I will once you do. Gotta hear you do it first.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You groan as you rub yourself faster. You were so drenched you had to kick all of the blankets off yourself. You plant your feet into the bed as you bend your legs at the knee. Your arch your back up to get a better angle, and god does it feel good.

“Bet you’re squeezing around nothing, just wishing I was there.” All he could hear was you grunting and moaning.

“Harry.” You grit your teeth. “I, I’m, oh fuck!” You press your face into the pillow so you can moan out, but keep it muffled.

“God.” He breathes. “Blew my load just listening to you, Y/N.”

“Harry.” You whimper. “I’m a mess now and you’re not even here to clean it up.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He chuckles slightly. “I’m a mess here too if that makes you feel better.”

“It does a little.” You giggle. “I really can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither, my love.”

His words make you feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Well, unless you wanna listen to me pee, which I really hope you don’t because that’s just one kink I would have to shame you for, I think I should go.”

“Nope, no pee kink here, baby.” He laughs. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Back at you.” You sigh and hang up the phone. There was something strangely erotic about getting yourself off alone in Harry’s bed. Calling you like that was sneaky, but you knew you’d sleep better, and he would too.

//

“Mm, hello?” You groan at 5AM when your phone goes off.

“Due to weather and road conditions, school is cancelled today.”

You sit up right away. You had no idea it was supposed to snow last night, and you also had no idea how to use Harry’s snow blower. You get up and throw your robe on, you needed to tell Andy there was no school. You quietly go into his room, and put your hand on his shoulder.

“Andy, sweetie, you have a snow day today.” You coo.

“M’kay.” He whispers sleepily.

You smile and leave his room so he can go back to sleep. You look outside and see it’s still dark. You figure you should go back to sleep as well. Yours and Harry’s cars were in the garage, so it wasn’t like you need to worry about digging them out. You could tackle the shoveling in a few hours.

You end up starting your day around eight, deciding that sweats would be most comfortable. You think Andy would enjoy some waffles for breakfast, so you get the batter going in the waffle maker. He appears from his room shortly after, the aroma being too intoxicating for him to stay in bed any longer.

“Morning.” He says, knuckling at his eyes.

“Morning, you hungry?”

“Mhm.” He smiles as she places a stack of waffles in front of him at the table. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

“What kind of snow is it?”

“The powdery kind. I need to get out there soon to clean up the driveway. You don’t happen to know how to use the snow blower do you?”

“No idea. I usually stick to shoveling the walkways and the stairs.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out. How hard could it be?”

After twenty minutes of tinkering, you Googled how to start a snow blower, and found a video to watch. Once you got it going, it was pretty simple. You cleared the driveway of all the snow as Andy worked to clear the walkway to the front door.

“We make a pretty good team!” You say as you get the snow blower back in the garage.

“Yeah!”

You both head in through the garage and go into the basement to shed yourselves of your wet jackets, snow-pants, and boots.

Caroline: hey Andy! My sisters are taking me sledding since the roads aren’t too bad, do you wanna come?

Brandon: My dad’s gonna take me skiing today, do you wanna come?

“Shit.” Andy says to himself as he checks his phone.

“What’s up?” You ask him as you hand him a mug of hot chocolate.

“Both Caroline and Brandon invited me to do stuff with them…what should I do?”

“Who asked you first?”

“Caroline did…”

“Which activity would you rather do?”

“I’d rather go skiing, but I’d also like to hang out with Caroline…”

“Well, maybe you could go skiing with Brandon, and then meet up with Caroline later.” You shrug. “She could come over here and I could set a movie up for you in the living room, and I could sit up in the loft while you hang out.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t mind me being out all day with my friends?”

“Not at all, snow days are supposed to be fun, and the roads aren’t that bad right now.”

“You’re the best, Y/N!” Andy hugs you, and goes to text his friends.

Andy: Sure! I just need to a few minutes to get my gear together.

Brandon: Awesome! I’ll let my dad know, see you soon! Did Y/N want to come?

Andy: I’ll ask

“Y/N!”

“Yeah!”

“Did you want to come skiing?”

“Oh god.” You laugh. “No, I think I’ll save that for your dad, but thank you.”

Andy: she said thanks but no thanks lol

Brandon: okay lmao

Andy smiles and then goes to text Caroline.

Andy: Thanks for thinking of me, I’m actually going skiing with Brandon, but Y/N said you could come over for a movie later if you want???

Caroline: of course! Totally don’t blame you for wanting to go skiing. I’d love to come over later, I’ll ask my parents. Wanna just text me when you get home and we can figure it out from there?

Andy: sounds good to me ☺️

Caroline: ☺️☺️

“Okay, this should all work out.” Andy says to you. “I’m gonna get my stuff together.”

“Alright, will you just let me know once you’re there and all that. Text me updates so I know you didn’t split your head open. I don’t think your dad would like me very much anymore if that happened.”

“Yeah.” Andy laughs. “I think he’d take some brownie points away for sure.”

//

Andy was having a great time skiing with Brandon and his dad. After a couple of hours they all go into the lodge to get a quick lunch. Mr. Stewart goes up to order all the food while the boys sit at the table.

“Did you want to come back my house after? My mom’s making beef stew for dinner.”

“Aw man, I love your mom’s beef stew.” Andy pouts. “But I can’t, I have plans later.”

“Oh yeah? What are you up to?”

“Um…I invited Caroline over for a movie.”

“Oh.” Brandon’s face falls.

“But only because she invited me to go sledding today, and I said no I could ski with you.”

“Oh.” He perks back up. “What movie do you think you’ll watch?”

“I have no idea, I’ll probably let her decide. Any time me, my dad, and Y/N all watch a movie he always lets her decide.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes her happy.” He shrugs. “And then she’ll kiss him, and he likes that.”

“Right.” Brandon swallows. Before he can say anything else his dad comes over with the food.

//

You got a fuck ton of work done today, you were really proud of yourself. Harry’s loft was a perfect working space, even if you did miss your office at home. You hear Andy come in the door, and he shouts hello and that he’ll be in the shower. You chuckle to yourself and save what you’re working on for now.

Andy comes out a little while later just as you’re rifling through take out menus.

“I was thinking you could get something yummy for dinner. What do you think she’d like?”

“Pizza and mozzarella sticks sound safe.” He says.

“Alright, I’ll order it in a bit so it’s here when she is. I’m sure a lot of people are doing delivery tonight.”

“And you’ll just be upstairs?”

“Mhm, I don’t need to hover…just… you know, don’t sit on top of each other.”

He makes a face at you like he’s grossed out and then walks away from you. Not too long after the food arrives, so does Caroline.

“Thanks for getting all this, Y/N.” She says to you.

“Oh, you’re more than welcome. Did you two settle on a movie?”

“Cars.” Andy says. “Right, you wanna watch Cars?”

“Mhm.” She smiles.

“Okay, Cars it is.” You smile and set the movie up on Disney+. They both settle on the couch. “I’ll be right upstairs working if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Andy says and watches you go upstairs. “I like this movie a lot, Brandon and I watch it all the time.”

“It’s one of my favorites. I don’t really like the sequels though.”

“Me either!”

“They suck.”

“Yeah.” Andy smiles.

“I really like Wall-E, too.”

“My dad and I watched that together for the first time a couple years ago and he cried.” Andy laughs.

“He did?!”

“Yeah! I have no idea why. He cries a lot when we watch movies, though.”

“He sounds funny, I can’t wait to meet him.” She smiles and turns her attention to the TV.

About halfway through the movie, once they were done eating, you noticed it had gotten a little quite, so you peer over the banister to see what was going on. They were simply entranced by the film, giggling occasionally. You smile and sit back down.

There was the part in the movie where the town comes back to life, and the cars all pair of to cruise together. Caroline sighs softly, and he hand brushes Andy’s. They both look down at their hands, and Andy makes a bold move in holding her, fingers intertwined and all. She smiles at him and blushes.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yeah.” She nods with a brighter smile.

“Cool.” He sighs with relief, and they continue the movie like that, holding hands.

You stand in the kitchen while Caroline gets her coat on after the movie ended and her oldest sister was in the car outside.

“Thanks again for having me, it was fun.”

“Anytime.”

She throws her arms around his neck to give him a hug, and out the door she goes. Andy sighs contently and walks into the kitchen with a huge smile on his face. He gives you a surprising hug.

“What was that for?”

“For being so cool to let us chill alone. Knowing my dad, he would have walked by every two seconds, or if I were at Mum’s she would have had Rachel watch the movie with us. We…we held hands, Y/N.”

“Oh my.” You smile. “Big step.”

“No kidding.” He agrees. “I…I need to go call Brandon.” He races into his room and closes the door.

Andy was so innocently sweet, and it warmed your heart like nothing else ever could.

//

“He was a perfect angel, honestly.” You say over the phone to Janette as you stuff your face with the ice cream you had in your freezer. “He’s very popular, and is always busy. No wonder Harry didn’t make time to date before, I’m exhausted.”

“Doing it alone is tough, but now he’s got a great partner to help him out.”

“I love helping. He and I didn’t have one single disagreement, and he listened to me the whole time.”

“Well, of course he did. You’re his dad’s girlfriend.”

“True, but I was really expecting him to try to get away with something.”

“He probably knew he couldn’t test you. Smart kid.”

You chuckle and talk with her more about her break is going. You survived two weeks with Andy. You kept him alive and well.

Later on, you were snuggled up on your couch in some sweats of Harry’s, and a blanket, watching TV. Your heart skips a beat when you hear the jingle of keys and you front door unlocking. Harry said he’d text you when he landed, and he hadn’t. You stand up and shuffle around, grabbing a fry pan and getting into a batting stance.

“Baby?! I’m back!” He stops short when he sees you ready to attack and then he bursts out laughing.

“Stop it! I thought you were a burglar!”

“So you stood there frozen?!”

“You can go home if you want, I’m not longer happy to see you.” You pout and put the pan on the counter.

“Don’t be like that, I missed you so much, come here.”

Your smile slowly grows on your face, and you jump into his arms. He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him, tucking your face into his neck, getting a good whiff of his cologne.

“How was your flight?” You mumble into him as he holds you close.

“Little bit of turbulence, but it was good.” He says as he starts walking you into your bedroom. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Slept plenty on the plane and bus.”

He gets you on the bed, and kicks his shoes off before getting on with you. You both lay on your sides facing each other. He grabs your leg and puts it over his hip so he can slot his leg between yours, and then he pulls you close so you’re chest to chest. He moves some hair behind your ear.

“Hi.” He says with a big smile.

“Hi.” You smile back. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He leans in and slots his mouth over yours, and your eyes flutter closed. You tug at his shirt to pull him even closer as you rock against the leg that’s between yours. His tongue drags along your bottom lip and you moan softly. He licks into your mouth and you’re met with his familiar minty taste. You tug him completely on top of you as you turn onto your back. You wanted his weight to just crush you.

“Baby.” He coos as he kisses from your jaw to your neck. He sucks on your soft skin and your hips buck up again. His leg moves further between yours and you gasp.

Your fingers lace through his hair and you tug as you grind against his thigh. You were feeling incredibly needy now that he was here with you, and not just a voice through the phone. You could feel him getting hard against her hip, so you reach into his joggers and start pumping him, getting a heft groan from him.

“Need you.” You breathe.

“Need to taste you first.” He says as shifts to tug your sweatpants off.

“No, please just fuck me, we can do all that afterwards.”

“I need to prep you first or it’ll hurt.”

“Harry, I’ve been fucking you for seven months, I’m perfectly adjusted.” He raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, maybe not perfectly, but I’m feeling impatient so please.” She pouts at him and he physically can’t say no.

He doesn’t bother with your shirt, or his, he just gets his pants off, and you get yours off. He goes to get up in search for a condom, but you grab him and shake your head.

“Wanna feel you, just pull out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

His lips crash to yours as your legs open up for him. He lines himself up with you and rubs his tip along your clit. You were plenty wet for him. You both groan from the feeling. He slowly pushes inside you, and your head falls back from the stretch. Your mouth was hanging open trying to breathe to help yourself relax.

“Holy shit.” You say as he’s about halfway in.

“Three weeks in a long time, babe, let me take some time to just-“ He starts to pull out but your sink your nails into his ass.

“Just go for it.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, it’ll feel good. Just give it one good thrust.”

He bites his bottom lip and does as you say, bottoming out immediately. You choke out a gasp. It hurt a little, but it quickly turned to pleasure as you felt full for the first time in weeks. You tighten around him and he grits his teeth.

“I’ll come if you do that.”

“Sorry, go ahead, move, fuck me, Harry.”

He rocks in and out of you, and you pull him closer so his head is buried in your neck. You wrap your legs around his lower back, and get your hands up under his shirt so you can scratch and squeeze at him.

“You feel so fucking good.” He growls into your ear, and it makes your eyes roll back.

“So, so do you, fuck.”

He sits up slightly to get a better angle. He pushes one of your legs back, and lets the other lay flat, and your mouth falls open as he thrusts in and out of you.

“Oh my god, Harry!”

“Hold your leg up f’me.”

You do as he says immediately and hook your arm under your leg as he continues to fuck in and out of you. He was hitting your g-spot perfectly. You reach to rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Oh my fucking god, Harry, don’t stop.” You were panting already. “Fuck, fuck, please, don’t stop.”

You knew he wouldn’t dare, but you couldn’t think of what else to say. Tears were starting to form in your eyes because it just felt so fucking good.

“Oh, oh! Fuck!” Your back arches as you come to your release. You squeeze impossibly tight around him.

“Shit, Y/N!” Harry pulls out of you just in time and comes on your stomach, getting a little on your shirt, but your head was so fuzzy you didn’t care.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to-oh!”

You look down and see Harry’s head between your legs. He really did want to taste you. He sucks on your clit and your hands go right back into his hair. You tug and squeeze with each stroke. He was moaning into you, and it was driving you crazy. You moan along with him as he gets both of your legs over his shoulders, your heels digging into his back.

“Harry.” You groan.

He was just focusing solely on your clit because he knew you’d be too sensitive for anything else, but he didn’t mind. You could tell he really just wanted to be close with you like this. The tip of his tongue makes circles on your clit and you feel like you go cross-eyed.

“That’s it, Harry, fuck, oh my god, that’s fucking it!” You cry out as you come and press his face further against you.

“Ride me.” He breathes. “Ride my face, I wanna keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

You nod and wait for him to get adjusted. You rip your shirt off so you can be fully naked for him. You center yourself on him, and gasp when you feel his tongue on your again. His fingers sink into the plushy skin of your ass, and you essentially move so you’re twerking on him, which you know he loves. He loves when you really just use him, he was like your person scratching post.

He had you screaming again in no time, he was pretty proud of himself. You inch down his body, and get his shirt off so you can kiss down his chest. You suck marks into his skin, lower and lower, leaving a nasty trail of love bites behind. He was hard again, so you lick up and down his shaft before taking him into your mouth. You suckle his tip with vigor, making nasty noises that was music to his ears. One of your hands massages his balls while the other scratches up and down his stomach.

“Fuck.” He groans as you take him deep, bobbing up and down. You look up at him as best you can and he runs a caring hand through your hair. “Let me come on your tits, Y/N.”

You smirk with him still in your mouth and then you let him go with a pop. You get in a better position between his legs and pump his wet dick furiously.

“Jesus Christ! Just like that, baby. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!”

His come shoots in ribbons onto your chest, and you bask in the warmth it has at first. You kiss back up his body, smearing your chest onto his. You both giggle as your mouth reaches his again. He rolls you both back over so he’s on top again.

“Can’t get enough of you right now.” He says as he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Let me use one of your-“

“Harry, baby, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but let’s take a break, yeah?” You chuckle. “You’ve tuckered me out.”

“Mm, guess I’m a little tired too.” He kisses your cheek. “Could we go shower?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” You nod with a sigh.

You wobbled into the bathroom with him, and he gets the water going. Once it’s warm enough you both stand under the water, just holding each other for a bit. He kisses your neck and shoulder occasionally, and you run your hands through his hair. You take turns washing each other up before you get out and towel off.

You cuddle up in bed with your head on his chest, just listening to his heart beat for bit with his fingers lightly stroking your back.  You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him.

“Yes?”

“You sure got excited earlier, huh?”

“Couldn’t help it, just missed you so much. Do you feel okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure I’ll be a little sore, but it’s alright.” You smile. “Did you have a good time with your family?”

“I did, I feel really recharged. It’s always nice being home. Maybe, um, maybe next year you’d like to try coming with me?”

“Yeah, maybe.” You grin. He sit up a little and so do you. He puts his arm around you and kisses your temple.

“So, you really won’t tell me much about your two weeks with Andy?”

“I told you everything I could. What we ate for meals, how his basketball practices went…oh! We had a snow day and he went skiing with Brandon. I even used the snow blower.”

“You did?!”

“I did.”

“Bet you looked pretty hot.”

“Oh, stop.” You swat at his chest.

“But seriously…”

“You’ll have to talk with him tomorrow when you pick him up.” You bite your bottom lip. “He held hands with the girl, Caroline.”

“Wow.” He blinks a few times. “I wonder if he still might like Brandon.”

“He’s very confused, but I think it’s important to let him sort of test the waters. He said he never really thought girls were pretty before, but he thinks she’s really pretty.”

“God, I’m gonna have to have the talk with him.” He groans. “It was awkward enough when I got him that puberty book.”

“It’s not like you have to go in depth, you just need to remind him to be respectful.”

“You don’t understand…when boys start going through all this…things can get sticky.”

“Ew, enough said.” You both laugh. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

//

Sunday morning, you drop Harry off at his place so he can unpack and get himself settled before going to pick Andy up. He exchanges pleasantries with Paige, and then on the road he goes.

“How come we’re taking the long way home?”

“Because we need to chat about some things.”

“What did Y/N tell you?” He rolls his eyes.

“Not much, honestly. Apparently you have a new friend, though.”

“Yeah, her name’s Caroline. She’s new to the school, her and her family just moved here from Maine. She came over to watch a movie the other day and we held hands…she even shared her cosmic brownie with me, Dad, I think we like each other, but…I feel guilty about Brandon.”

“Andy…how do you feel about Brandon, exactly?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbles. “It’s like…it’s like Brandon’s like an oo, and Caroline’s like an ah. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” He sighs.

“It does?”

“Yeah…so…you held hands with Caroline?”

“Yeah, it was really nice. Would it be alright if I asked her out?”

“Didn’t you already do that by asking her over for a movie?” Harry chuckles.

“No, I mean…I think I wanna date her. I wanna see if she’ll be my girlfriend.”

“Do you think you’re ready for a girlfriend? It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“It is?”

“Sure! Gotta treat whoever you date really nice, give them a lot of respect.”

“I do respect her. I asked her if it was okay while we were holding hands.”

“Thatta boy.” Harry says proudly. “Always ask before you touch, and if they say no, that means no.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Andy, that’s something I’m gonna say over and over to you for the rest of my life, so get used to it.”

“Did you date a lot of people when you were younger?”

“Um…not really. I mean, I had a couple of girlfriends in secondary school, and I dated a girl at uni in London before I came here and met Mum. So…you’d rather go for it with a girl you barely know rather than with Brandon?”

“I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Brandon, Dad…and I’m scared. Caroline doesn’t make me feel scared.”

“Well…if you’d really like to ask her out, I suppose it’s alright.”

“Really?!”

“Sure, we could go on a double date even. Ice skating, maybe?”

“Dad, you’re the coolest! I can’t wait to call her later.”

“You’re gonna ask her out over the phone? Don’t you wanna do it in person?”

“Get with it, Dad.” Andy scoffs. “Everything’s done over the phone now.”

“Well, excuse me.”

“I think you’ll like her, she’s so nice.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“She always smells like cherries too.” Andy sighs.

“You’ve got it bad for her, huh?”

“I’ve never felt this way about a girl before. I think I’m finally catching up with everyone.”

“It’s not a race, son.”

“Sometimes it feels like it is. Whatever, I just feel good about it, about her.”

“Alright.”

“I really liked staying with Y/N.”

“She said she had a great time with you.”

“Do you think you’ll ask her to move in with us?”

“Would like me to?”

“Yeah…I want her around more.”

“Me too.” Harry smiles. “I think I’ll ask her soon, maybe when the weather gets a little warmer.”

“She still needs to learn to ski. You should ask her to come with us to the cabin for February break.”

“I think Mum was hoping to do another family trip…”

“So, Y/N’s family now.”

“I’m happy you feel that way, but I don’t know how comfortable she’d feel doing something like that for an entire week.”

“You won’t know unless you ask.”

[artistsoftheapocalypse]

:: Sketchy Saturday :: FAQ ::

What is Sketchy Saturday?

Sketchy Saturday is a Fallout Community Event held every weekend on @artistsoftheapocalypse ! It's run by a crew of volunteer Artists, Moderators, and some supportive friends who cheer us on as we work to produce new Fallout fanworks based on requests by our participants, helping to foster joy as the center of Fandom-- even for folks who are not artistically inclined or don't have the money for commissions.

NEAT! How does that go?

The exact timing of each weekend is up to whomever is leading the art team that week.

If you're curious how a Sketchy Weekend is done from the volunteer side, you can have a read through our Workflow document.

If you'd like to volunteer with us some time, shoot a Tumblr IM to @solesurvivorpaigeargot . They'll chat with you about what you'd like to do with/for AoTA, and take the next steps from there.

Loor [@solesurvivorpaigeargot ] is the originator of the event, and the one who most frequently leads the art team. The following explanation is the general way in which a weekend is run, but a different person leading the art team will lead to differences. Always remember to read our informational posts to check if anything is different on any given weekend <3

SO! GENERALLY SPEAKING! This is how a Sketchy Saturday looks on Tumblr:

Times are in US Pacific <-- this is a clickable link to an internet clock, which you can use to compare to your time zone <3 Or, if you'd like, a time difference calculator!

Thursday, 8:00 PM : Prompt and Guidelines are posted, requests are open!

-- At 8 PM on Thursday nights is when our prompt post normally goes up, containing all the information prospective participants will need to join in the event that weekend. Basically, it's the weekly rules post-- since we use Prompts to limit the scope of what people can request, it is very important you read the Prompt Post every week in which you participate.

Friday, 9:00 AM : ARTING BEGINS!

-- The team actually begins waking up and talking to each other a lot closer to 6 AM-- getting the priority list in order, checking through the asks to make sure everyone followed the rules, and verify we have references for all requested characters that weekend. 9 AM is when we are finishing up prep work and are ready to get down to some Sketchy Business.

Friday, 8:00 PM : REQUESTS CLOSE!

--Don't think I need to explain this one :P If you send a request after the cut-off, we will reply privately to thank you for your time and effort, and ask that you please join us next week <3

Saturday, All Day : TIME TO GOOO!!!

-- Once the requests are closed, our artists have a solid to-do list and we spend Saturday gettin it DONE... Or at least as close as we can get without hurting ourselves. We encourage our volunteers to withdraw at any point they become exhausted or are in pain.

Sunday, 7:00 AM - 12:00 PM : SUNDAY PARADE!

-- After a Sketchy Weekend is done, we queue up all the finished works to reblog back into the feed for people to enjoy. Any requests we have not finished at 7:00 AM on Sunday are Dropped.

Sunday, 12:00 PM : EVENT IS OVER! Time for housekeeping!

-- At noon Sunday pretty much everyone involved with the blog fucks off for a couple of days to pay attention to their own lives and rest. Then, we start setting things up for the next weekend! :D

Alrighty, so what's up with Dropped requests?

A request is dropped when, for whatever reason, the volunteer team could not complete it before the Sunday Parade.

We keep track of our participants this Spreadsheet, which we link every week for easy viewing. There is a full description of how it all works in the document, but the TL;DR is this:

Higher priority scores are served first. If you choose not to participate in a single weekend, your score goes up by +1 If you choose to participate, and your request is dropped, your score goes up by +4 Ergo, you are more likely to be served and get something the next time you participate, because your higher score will put you above others on the list who decided to simply sit out.

Ah, I see; so if you get dropped, you get served sooner next time. What about new people?

New Participants get first priority. If it's your first time with us, or you're back after a long absence that caused your username to age off the list, you go to the front of the line.

New people go first? Why?

We want to encourage new participants, and sharing with friends. 'Oh, BTW, first time requesters always get theirs served first' is a pretty good incentive if you wanna tempt a buddy into joining us for their first weekend.

Okay, that makes sense. What about the Housekeeping you mentioned?

Every week we have to reset the event, and that's a mostly manual process. Priority scores need to be recalculated, we take metrics on Monday, and a new prompt needs to be decided on all before the coming Wednesday, and right after the Sketchy Weekend? Everyone involved has mush for brains for like two days.

Housekeeping is just a catch-all term for everything that needs to be done between the end of one Sketchy Weekend and the beginning of the next one; not to minimize it because man there's a lot, but just so all that labor has an umbrella it fits under. XD

HOLY BALLS that's a lotta work. And it's all run by volunteers?

YES! The Artists of the Apocalypse is a voluntary collective; we each made an individual choice to join, and we all have the right to leave at any point. We work together because we choose to, and do our best to build each other up and and support one another :D

How do I support this group / the volunteers?

AoTA, as an entity, does not currently have a donation page. [ Loor is working on it, but such a donation page may not be viable until we have our own website. Until then, donations to such a group would be in a legally grey area that might put our volunteers at risk of legal action from IP holders, and none of us have the resources to fight that kind of shit, so we are being VERY careful with that ]

HOWEVER! We are certain to credit our volunteers, who each provide links to their donation pages, patreons, shops, and other web presence to be included with their volunteer credit :D

We HIGHLY encourage checking out the links of our volunteers every week! And remember that SUPPORT isn't just DONATIONS, it's also likes, reblogs, and kind words <3

Alright, so what's this SHIPPY SATURDAY thing I've been hearing about?

The last sketchy weekend of every month is Shippy Saturday! While the name implies it's all about romance, what it really means is that the prompt on the last weekend of the month will allow for two characters interacting to be requested.

OOOOOOOOO So I can request my favorite ship?

Damn right you can, so long as you follow the rules of the prompt that week. <3

Even if there's an OC in it?

Honey, even if they're both OCs, we love that shit around here. Besides, canon characters are just OCs that got bought and published.

NSFW?

Nope. We are fully aware that there are minors in our audience, and thus we try to keep things PG-14 around here. Their joy with this property is not less valid because they are younger. We'll curse all we fuckin' want here, but no explicit nudity or explicit sexual content will be posted on AoTA as part of a Shippy Saturday event. Occasionally implicit? Sure, but don't come to us expecting to get your spicy fanart fix.

Also, though it should go without saying: any romantic ship MUST be entirely comprised of consenting adults. They can be any species you like but everyone must be capable of giving and communicating consent to their partner[s].

Wait, you said I can request a ship containing two OCs-- even if one of those OCs belongs to a friend of mine?

Yes, but we ask that you please ask your friend before sending their baby on to us. If they object for any reason, we will take the work down immediately and apologize.

Their OC is their baby, they have the right to say no. Remember to ask your friends if they're cool with strangers drawing their baby before offering up someone else's character <3

Okay, okay, let's say I'm in, I wanna send in a request for a Sketchy Saturday... So, is that cool? Who can participate?

ANYONE AND EVERYONE! We welcome ALL lovers of Fallout, from casual players of the games to hardcore fanfiction authors with multi-year projects. We do not need to know who you are!

The only requirement we have is that you follow The Rules and Guidelines in the prompt post every week you participate.

What happens if I don't follow the rules?

If your request doesn't follow the guidelines in the Prompt Post, we will privately reply that the request is not valid, and ask you to try again.

If a request is BLATANTLY not valid, such as containing derogatory or challenging language directed at our volunteers DURING the event, meant to disrupt them while they're working, the account sending that request will be BLOCKED.

5 year olds get away with slapping someone and saying they didn't know it would hurt someone.

No one on this site should be under 13, we expect better than that from our participants.

Can I request a specific pose, even when the prompt doesn't mention it?

No.

Unless the prompt is a pose prompt, you may not specify a pose. Unless the prompt is an expression prompt, you may not specify an expression. Unless the prompt is a palette prompt, you may not specify a palette. Unless the prompt is a setting prompt, you may not specify a setting.

Please do not specify information we did not ask you for. It is frustrating and puts the organizers in a very awkward place while communicating with requesters.

These are freebies, not commissions.

Boundaries are important. What do you guys do if no one wants to serve a request?

If all volunteers on the art team say 'No' to the same request, it triggers a Team Vote to Decline. If the vote is unanimous, we privately reply to the requester informing them at their request was declined, and thank them for their time.

We do not ask our volunteers for reasons why. Every creator has the right to say ' No, I do not want to do that ' without being interrogated.

Sucks that you gotta have that shit in place, but glad you've got a plan for jerks... But let's assume I'm not a jerk, and that I sent in a request, and that request was valid. Is there a way I can check up on the status of my request?

We have a handy spreadsheet! We also post screenshots of our Work List through the event so folks don't have to click over all the time <3

I'm new, does that mean I start out at 0?

NOPE! New participants are ALWAYS served first... and after your first Sketchy Saturday request has been fulfilled, then you'll start at -1.

Can I have my name removed from the Sketchy Saturday Record?

No, we need the record to be accurate, which means no arbitrary removals. We are willing to hear people out on a case-by-case basis, but there will need to be some pretty extreme circumstances, as well as agreement among the mods on what to do about the situation.

[ Last updated 01 / 20 / 2022 by Loor ]

[theloccent]

It’s Supportive Sunday! Let’s all show some love to our fellow Pacific Rim fans who share their incredible talent with us.

You can do this by:

A short comment like ‘I loved this’

A more detailed comment like ‘X really made me smile’

Sending an anon ask to am author like ‘What inspired you to do X?’

Sending an anon ask to a commenter who made your day

Recommending a fic by reblogging this post and adding the rec, or by making your own post and tagging it #LoccentSupportiveSunday

It’s the first week of Pacific Rim Bingo so here are some of the incredible works!

Pacific Rim Bingo 2021 Fills Ch1 Meet Ugly by CompletelyOrdinaryCat [Newt/Herman | Rated M]

Newt's totally excited to meet his pen pal for the first time. Sure, he just made a very public fool of himself and he's very full of alcohol (not drunk though!) but he's convinced this night can still be salvaged.

Easy as Pi by buckgaybarnes [Newt/Herman | Rated T]

Newton Geiszler gives baking a bad name, and Hermann is determined to set things right.

babysitting (newt needs an adult) by MakeAStriderSmile [Newt & Mako | Rated T]

Honestly, who the hell assigns a multiple times over doctor to *babysit* a 19 year old

2022; Newt and Mako alone in the lab, expect bonding and Science tee em.

We’ll Remain by Entropic_Wren [Gen | Rated G]

I’ll meet you in the drift. Where our youth weaves and melds together, baring our souls to each other to embrace and change.

the last party by MakeAStriderSmile [Gen | Rated T]

The party inside the Shatterdome was bordering on riotous, rangers and techs and janitors and menial staff alike, all wrapped in the throes of an ecstasy that the whole world shared, because they won.

And then there was the smaller party. LOCCENT headquarters.-

The crew make a toast to everyone they've lost, and nobody sleeps alone.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Just something soft and sad for a Sunday morning.

CW: dehumanization, pet whump, referenced scarring/torture, wing whump, noncon touching (nonsexual), creepy comfort

Timeline: During Killan's time with "the wolves", my affectionate nickname for the Lord and his Lady friend who are among his first owners

As always, Killan's world and details of fae, fae biology, the concept of the mysteries/stars - all of it belongs to @wildfaewhump! It's Vic's brilliance - they are kind enough to let me write in their world!

--

The creature woke with his muscles aching, shifting with a stifled hiss as pain flared up the inside of his arm along a bicep, worked its way deep into the muscles of his thighs. The heavy copper chains he wore had been removed, at the end of the night, and he felt lighter than air with only rings in his wings and a thin single round of copper around his neck.

"Ah, it wakes." Lord Reg's voice was warm and amused, and the creature blinked eyes open that felt crusted with the sleeping-sand gathered in the corners, to look up.

He'd fallen asleep on the lord's own floor, curled up on a rug in front of his fireplace, wings curled against his back. He had to blink, again and again, working the blur in his vision gradually back to clear sight.

The lord was sipping a cup of hot strong black tea, seated in his dressing gown at a large wooden desk, looking over a series of rocks of varying sizes. The creature - the boy - swallowed, wincing as there was an ache in his throat, a throbbing in his head. What had happened, after the fourth drink the night before?

"You may speak to greet me," The lord said, voice gentling a little, pleased with the boy's silence.

"Yes, my lord," the boy whispered, cracked lips moving with a whisper of chapped skin. "Good morning, my lord."

"Good morning." Reg hummed to himself, a nonsense nothing-song. Beneath the deep bass of his voice, the boy heard the greater song of the threads of the stars and the spaces between them, and closed his eyes, trying to hear it just a bit more strongly.

"Come here, pet." Reg tapped two fingers on the arm of the elaborately carved wooden chair, and the boy moved fast, scrambling onto his feet even as everything in him ached with protest. He moved on bare feet across the cold stone floor, wings shivering and giving away the nervousness he tried so much to hide.

He dropped into a crouch next to the lord's chair, and felt the man's hand, heavy with rings even this early and before he dressed, settle onto the top of his head. He began to pet the creature - who felt at his most degraded in moments like this, so much more than when he was in pain - while sipping the tea he held steaming in his other hand.

"Look at this, pet."

The lord often liked to hear himself speak. The creature wasn't expected to respond if it wasn't a direct question. But he raised his head, blinking.

The lord put down his tea and held up a rough-edged rock no large than a child's palm.

The creature went still, staring wide-eyed. Unknown to him, his slit pupils widened, blotting out much of the too-bright blue. The rock seemed to glitter, faintly, in the morning light.

The lord rubbed his thumb against an edge, and the boy shivered as the rock began to sing - faintly, with sorrow, separated from the larger mystery it had once belonged to.

The song was fading, but clear.

Reg, of course, heard nothing but the scrape of his own thumb. "I am told this is a verified-"

"Star," The creature said, hoarse-voiced. He trilled softly in surprise. When the hand on his head stopped moving, he glanced up to see the lord's focus on him, not the rock at all, and nervously licked his lips. "It came from the stars," He tried.

Speaking was hard - they wanted to hear his voice so little. His heart beat with fear whenever he took the chance.

Reg's hand shifted down the back of the creature's neck, running along the soft down of feathers, rubbing his fingertips into a scarred spot near the ring that clinked at the first join. The boy shuddered against the violation, but held still.

"Yes," The lord said, working his fingers now beneath the down feathers, pressing against the places the vanes of the tiniest, softest ones attached. The boy's eyes closed, the way the lord's hands moved so soothingly was starting to lull him, calming against his will, and he slumped just a little.

The creature slowly exhaled. Lady Layla was always cruel. Reg, sometimes, was worse.

Reg guided the creature to rest his chin on the lord's knee, smiling with fondness as he watched the thing's eyes slide half-shut, listened to its soft unknowing chirps. "They call it a meteorite. How did you know?"

"Can... hear, my lord... please don't-"

"Ssssshhhhh. Relax, for me. You were quite a showcase last night." Rough, large fingers worked their way to the twisted, scarred, reshaped spine and shoulder blades that allowed the creature to carry such great wings. The warmth made him shiver, and he tilted his head, resting his cheek on the lord's thigh.

Muscle knots gave way under the lord's careful, expert press and push, and the creature chirped softly, unconsciously, in something like pleasure.

"What do you hear, from this rock?" Reg's voice dipped, matched the rough soothe of his fingers. The creature could have slept again, like this.

"A song," The creature whispered. "Mysteries. It was broken, falling to earth. It sings of the spaces between... between stars, my lord."

"Lovely." Reg set the rock down on his desk and kept one hand working at the knotted muscles and scars on the boy's back while his other absently petted through the wavy brown-blond hair, so absurdly human compared to everything else. "Just lovely. The space between stars. You might have been a poet, had you a soul to write poetry with."

The creature - not a boy, of course, not human, soulless and only a husk filled with the lives given to make him - kept his eyes closed. "Yes, my lord."

"But you have nothing."

"Yes, my lord." When the creature tensed, Reg tsked, until he felt those muscles relax under his fingers again.

"Whatever song you hear, pet, I can't imagine you are even remotely a part of it, are you? Like this?"

"No, my lord." A soft, sad chirp, and Reg smiled at the sound. "I'm not."

"Good." The lord carefully, gently wiped away the single red tear before it could drip onto his pants and stain them.

Then he picked his teacup back up and looked back over the rocks on his desk, wondering how many of them, in the ears of the monster, would sing.

--

Tagging Killan’s crew:  @astrobly  @burtlederp ​​​ , @finder-of-rings ​​​ , @slaintetowhump ​​​ , @quirkykayleetam ​​​ , @whumpallday ​​​ , @whumppsychology ​​​, @doveotions ​​​, @broken-horn , @moose-teeth ​​​, @whumpfigure  @oceanthesarcasamfox ​​​,  @whump-only ​​​, @just-strawberry-jam ​​​, @loopylunacy ​​​ (if you would like to be added to an OC’s tag list, please send your request via an ask! Those are easier for me to keep track of and I tend to lose requests in comments, reblogs, tags, or PMs!)

[summahsunlight]

Worth the Risk, Part 8

Rating: Mature(18+only)

Word Count: 1881

Pairing: Army Pilot!Poe Dameron x Nurse!Reader (1940s AU)

Summary: It’s the 1940s, Army pilot and Captain Poe Dameron is flying on missions for the United States Army in Europe.  After being shot down off the coast of France, Poe wakes up in an Army hospital in England, to find you, a nurse, taking care of him. Throughout the process of his recovery, Poe finds himself falling for you, and even though you, for the most part, maintain a professional relationship with him–you’re falling for him as well. Both of you know the risks of falling in love during a war, but then again, both of you have never cared much for being cautious.

Warnings:  Angst, swearing, Ben Solo makes a cameo appearance

Taglist: @fanfic-addict-98, @thescarletknight2014, @blushingwueen, @americasass-romanoff, @ginger-swag-rapunzel​, @spider-starry​, @totelpoedameron​, @captain-america5​, @liadamerondjarin​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​

Taglist is still open! Let me know if you would like to be added☺️This time Reader is played by Haley Atwell. As always, likes, asks, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I love to hear your thoughts, so please don’t be shy❤️

Three weeks had passed since Poe rejoined the Army, but to you it felt more like a lifetime. You hadn’t heard from him since he left and you suspected you wouldn’t hear from him for a while; the mail was incredibly slow during war. Never-the-less, you checked each day to see if Poe had sent you a letter--in between preparing your unit of nurses for deployment. 

Hux was even more prickly than normal. Many of the nurses stayed clear of him, but you, being in charge of the nurses had to deal with him on a daily basis. You dealt with it though because you wanted your nurses to be prepared for the mission to France. Everyone was anxious and on edge-- Hux were just being downright cruel. 

You tolerated it because you were afraid if you said anything, Hux would inform the Army of your relationship with Poe and ship you back to America. You were more helpful here in Europe--so you kept your mouth shut. And when you knew Hux wasn’t around, you would take out the photograph you had of Poe and look at it, longingly. 

There was a void inside your soul without Poe around. You missed his arms around you, you missed the way he would gently kiss your nose when he thought you were being adorable; you missed his hand in yours as you walked around the hospital grounds. All you could do for now was pray that he was safe and that he stayed safe in the coming days. 

It was that night, you got your first letter from Poe. Locking yourself in your room, you read it, holding tightly to the photograph of Poe you kept with you at all times.

May 16, 1944

My darling, I miss you more than words can say. Being back at the barracks, with my boys is surreal. It was like being with you was a dream that I was forced to wake up from I know that this is where I need to be, that my country needs me to fight the tyranny that is Germany--but my heart just longs to be with you.

The boys keep making fun of me, of course. It’s all in good nature. I don’t mind it, really. They need an outlet, they need an escape from the hell that our lives have become since entering this war. Although, I did threaten Arana I was going to tell lies about him so you wouldn’t want to set him up with any of your friends. For now, that seems to have shut him up. I know that they mean and everyone is on edge with the talk of invading Normandy.

I keep hearing that the next mission might be the most important one we’ve undertaken to date. Some are saying that it we take Normandy, we’ll win the war. God, I hope they are right. I’m so tired of fighting in this war, sweetheart. I just want to go home--I want to take you home with me to meet my father. I think he’d loved you. Actually, I know he would love you.

Stay strong, love. I know I don’t have to say it to you because you are the strongest person I know, but it never hurts to hear it. I love you, I love you so much. One day, we’ll be together again. 

All my heart,

Poe

You closed your eyes, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks. Absentmindedly your fingers reached up to the chain around your neck and slid down to find the ring hanging off the end. It might be days before you heard any news on Poe and if he had survived the invasion. 

Finding some paper, you wrote back to him. Unlike Poe, you were able to let him know what was going on, that your unit was going to be deployed to France once the beaches of Normandy were secure. Of course, you understood that those words held a false sense of security. Enemy forces could still attack while your unit was treating wounded there. It was much more dangerous being on the frontlines than in a hospital, but for some men, medics and nurses on the frontlines were the best hope for survival.

It’s quiet here without you, my love. Please stay safe for me. I love you so, so, so much. You pressed your lips to the paper, leaving a perfect red impression of your lips there. Come back to me, Poe. 

Placing your letter in an envelope, you addressed it to him and put it down on your desk to mail in the morning.

Folding his letter up, you placed it in the jewelry box that you kept his photo in at night, along with some dried up flowers he had given you. Snapping the lid shut, you hugged the box to your chest. You had gone to church every Sunday with your parents as a child, but after everything you had seen you constantly questioned the existence of God. If he was there, if he was listening, then you prayed to him that he’d keep your pilot safe.

“Y/N?” Rey’s voice said on the other side of your door. “Are you in there?”

“Yes!” you called, putting the box down and wiping your tears.

“Can I come in?” “Yes, it’s unlocked.”

Rey stepped into your room. She gave you a sad look, like she knew you had been reading Poe’s letter and missing him. “I doubled checked all our supplies; we’re ready to leave when the Army gives us the okay.”

Slowly you nodded. “Listen, Rey,” you said, softly, unable to look her in the eyes. “I think you’re a wonderful nurse, but the Army is only sending my enlisted unit. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I just found out. Hux informed me. Only enlisted nurses are going to the front lines, not civilian ones.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “But I want to help! I can’t go just because I’m not a member of the U.S Army?”

“It’s not like you won’t be needed here.”

“But I want to go with you and Jessika; I want to go with my friends.”

“Please, Rey, don’t make this harder...”

“I thought you trusted me?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I do Rey, but you’re a civilian nurse; you didn't sign up for the dangers of treating the wounded on the frontlines.”

Rey glared at you, furiously, before opening your door and slamming it shut in your face. You were left standing in your room, fists clenched, and hating yourself for how you had told her. You should have told her the moment you found out but you knew she’d be angry. She was passionate about helping, but because she was a civilian she wasn’t going to be allowed to go to the frontlines.

Part of you was happy about this. Rey was nineteen. She shouldn’t be going to the frontlines. There were already enough young men her age dying, you hated to think about the same happening to Rey.

That night you night you fell asleep, crying; crying over how far away Poe was, crying for Rey and crying because you knew the horrific future that was a head of you when you left for France.

----

“Dameron, wake up,” Snap said, shaking him.

“What’s going on?” Poe mumbled, opening his eyes. 

“Time to go.”

Poe quickly got out of bed. His crew had been preparing for this mission for the last three weeks. Looking at maps, training runs--but the day had finally arrived. June 5, 1944.  There mission was to fly paratroopers to a drop sight in Normandy over night, so the troops could be begin securing important locations prior to the invasion beginning in the morning. It had already been delayed a day, so Poe and the rest of his crew had been catching up on sleep in anticipation of flying overnight.

Slipping into his leather flight jacket, Poe followed Snap outside of the barracks towards the planes being fueled up for their trip. The captain of the paratrooper until that they were in charge of flying to Normandy stepped forward. “You the pilot?”

Nodding, Poe glanced at the boys loading his plane. Lord, some of them couldn’t be more than eighteen, nineteen years old. “I am. Captain Poe Dameron,” he said, introducing himself. “Welcome aboard my crew.”

“Captain Ben Solo,” the other man said, shaking his hand. “Get us to Normandy, Dameron, and you have a friend for life in us.”

“Gonna do my best,” Poe said, firmly. “I can’t promise a smooth ride; weather hasn’t been great over France the last few days--but I’ll get you there.”

Solo gave him a soft grin before boarding the plane himself. Snap glanced at Poe with a shake of his head. “And they say we’re the crazy ones for flying--what possess a man to strap a parachute on and willingly jump from a moving plane?”

Poe laughed and pat his friend on the back. He climbed into the cockpit of their C-47. His crew consisted of Snap, Iolo and a their radio operative, a young man from Oklahoma that Snap had affectionately nicknamed kid. “Ready?” he asked his crew.

Snap gave him a thumbs up. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Arana chimed in, “Let’s go leave the German’s a little surprise, shall we?”

His radio operative nodded and said he was just waiting to hear the word that they were given clearance to take-off.

Grinning, Poe started the plane up. He touched the photograph of you he had taped to his panels. He took a deep breath. This was his first mission since the crash and he felt butterflies in his stomach. If he crashed this time, there was so much more at stake--his crew, the paratroopers--you. He couldn’t fail. “Sweetheart,” he whispered to your photograph. “I love you. This is for you.”

“You alright, Dameron?” Snap asked, noticing his eyes on your photo.

“Yeah. Just hope I see her again,” Poe sighed.

“Hey, you will.”

“Wish I had your faith, Snap.”

“I have to tell myself that every time I get in the cockpit--that I will see Karé again. Otherwise, I’m scared shitless about what’s to come.” 

“Even if I think I’ll see her again, I’m still scared shitless, Snap. This invasion is going to make or break our chances for victory. And if we don’t win--I don’t want to think about what happens if we don’t win.”

Snap was silent. The truth was that he had the same fears as Poe. He gave the younger man a long, sad look before patting Poe confidently on the shoulder. 

Poe set his jaw. Yes, he was terrified, but he knew that they had a job to do. Glancing around at his crew, they were depending on him to get them back to the barracks safely. And the paratroopers, they were depending on this crew to pull through and get them to Normandy. 

The world was depending on them.

“Captain,” the radio operative said, “we’ve been given permission to take off.”

“Alright boys,” Poe said as he eased the plane onto the runway, “Let’s do this.”

[aoitrinity]

An Apology

CW: Brief mentions of mental illness, depression, and suicidal thoughts; general feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and loss.

Message below the cut.

Hi guys.

After the hellish whirlwind of the last few days, I am here because I have to tell you guys that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for this whole mess that I feel partly responsible for.

After the SPN finale, I was, like many of you, deeply upset. I was stunned that a show that it felt like we had followed so perfectly for four years wasn’t living up to what seemed to be the inevitable ending. I was genuinely shocked and horrified that we would be subjected to such a depressing message as “you cannot find happiness or peace unless you’re dead,” that free will is nothing but the freedom to choose your method of dying, or that the showrunners would have baited us so thoroughly with the Deancas storyline. I found it impossible to believe that they would wound a fanbase known primarily for being made up of queer people with mental health issues--people like myself, who literally struggle some days to find a will to keep living, who struggle to believe they are worthy of love--like this. I couldn’t believe that THIS was the story they had felt so strongly about telling, that THIS was the story they were going to tell after they painted this very ending as the horrible, hopeless, nefarious villain’s ending so early in the season.

I was so wounded. I spent all night sobbing on and off. I felt sick; I thought I was going to vomit. I was barely functional on Saturday and most of Sunday. I spoke with a couple of other fans just to try and get my head on right enough that I could take care of my work responsibilities on Monday.

And there were little bits of information about it all that just didn’t seem to fit, that didn’t sit right with me for any number of reasons. But rather than just accept that sometimes things don’t always make sense, I fell down the rabbit hole. I tried to make order out of what felt like absolute chaos. I wrote one lengthy post that really took off (I would ask you all to please stop reblogging it now, if you can) and another smaller one after the debacle of the Spanish-language dub that started last night, both attempting to piece together what I thought might have happened in a way that let me have hope and hang on to the vision of the show that I had believed so deeply in--a vision of happiness and love and family as a reward for fighting for years to retain one’s free will. A vision I have sorely, sorely needed this whole year, and honestly much longer.

But the truth was really there all along; I just didn’t want to accept it. I see that now, after the events of today, after spending time reading this post (thank you, btw, @teamfreewillbettertogether) and watching Misha’s video on Twitter. I was seeing what I wanted and needed to see, not what was there.

So I apologize to everyone that I gave false hope to. I apologize to everyone who read my posts and thought there might be any truth to them, to everyone I swept up in my nonsense. You all deserved better than a half-cocked conspiracy theory written by a frantic woman in the midst of emotional turmoil. And not that I ever expect them to see it, but I also want to sincerely apologize to the cast and crew who worked so hard on these last two episodes, only to have me shit on them because I couldn’t handle the reality of the situation.

I won’t lie, I am in a very, very raw place right now. I’m back to crying periodically and feeling sick to my stomach, and now I have the added shame of having put myself out there like a fool and of having pulled many of you into my vortex. And worst of all, I feel like I caused pain to the cast and crew with my ignorance, especially Misha. Let me tell you, there is nothing more awful than disappointing the person you look up to most in this world.

I don’t really know where I go from here. I don’t think I can let these characters or their story go, but I also don’t know how much I can engage with it right now either. I am very much for the idea of people writing the endings they wanted to this story, and for those who do, I will never stop cheering you on. This fandom is full of wonderful, creative, talented, passionate, loving people, and I love you all so much. Don’t let this finale or the accompanying disappointment steal that from you.

For me in this moment, however, I think I need to just apologize for the hurt that I have caused and try to step back so I can stabilize myself. I will probably still lurk on Tumblr in the coming days, but I won’t be reblogging much, if anything, at least not until I find an emotional equilibrium of some sort. In the meantime, keep up your chins, all. You’re a beautiful, brilliant, wonderful group of people, and I’m sorry for any pain I caused you.

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 1

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. This particular chapter is Chris light as it’s mainly a getting to know the reader. Chapters going forward will be heavy on the Chris aspect. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome. Tag list is open, please send me an ask.

“Do you have the ring?”

“Of course, I have the ring.” You let out a frustrated breath. “This is so silly.”

Joanna chuckles over the line. “Where did you manage to get a ring from anyway?”

“It’s my grandmother’s. I feel like I’m majorly disrespecting her by wearing it when I’m not even engaged. Not to mention I’ve been single for-ev-er.” You drawl out.

“Breathe babe. Just breathe.” She says softly.

You inhale deeply and exhale it slowly.

“Maybe don’t do that directly into the phone.” She laughs again.

“Joanna Elizabeth.” You growl. “Why am I doing this?” You ask catching a glimpse of your reflection in the review mirror. Running a hand through your hair, you see the diamond engagement ring on your left finger. It feels so foreign, even stranger seeing it.

“Because this is a great opportunity to advance your career. Stone Lite is a major studio, Y/N. You can’t keep working on those student films.”

“Hey! I worked on a couple of independent movies. One even showed at Sundance.” You defend.

“And that’s awesome. Really. But this could be your big in. You’ve been doing this, what, for ten years?”

She was right. Ten years and the majority of your income came from student funded films and slinging beers three nights a week.

“And by your silence, you know I am right.”

Smug bitch.

“Ahuh.” You sigh.

“Look, I know it’s not right, but if this increases your chances of getting hired, just wear the damn ring.” Joanna huffs out.

“Easy for you to say, oh, wise married one.”

Joanna previously worked for Stone Lite Studios before moving on to Sony. It was a well-known amongst the employees that if you wanted to get hired for any position that put you in direct contact with any of the actors, you needed to be married. The studio was concerned with fan girls and fan boys. As if adults couldn’t control their urges and not make unwanted advances. Not to mention, married or not, some people still have affairs. Now granted, not every person there was married, but you had a greater advantage to get the job if you were. Right or wrong.

You drew the line at saying you were actually married and settled on being engaged. Not wanting to worry about details like how you kept your last name and lying on the tax forms you’d have to fill out. Even though you’ve only worked on small projects, Hollywood was surprisingly small when it came to the industry. It would be a lot harder to explain a sudden husband versus a fiancé. With Joanna’s agreement, you took your grandmother’s engagement ring from your jewelry box and slipped it on your finger.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot and see where this goes.” She reasoned.

“You’re right. You’re right. I better go in anyway. There’s a golf cart that keeps circling around the lot. They’re probably getting suspicious as to why I’m still in my car.”

She let out a chuckle. “They’re going to give you a ride to the offices. Welcome to the big leagues baby.”

 “Ms. Y/L/N, may I call you Y/N? Barbara Floyd, the interviewer and also the production manager asked.

The two of you had already gone over your previous crew history where you held a variety of positions including editor, grip, writer, and even wardrobe. On a whim, you took a script supervisor position on an independent short and really enjoyed it. The next job you took was on full length film in the same position, that’s when you decided that’s where your passion lied. Despite the copious amount of responsibility and that often brought on your anxiety, you loved the challenge.

“Of course, Mrs. Floyd.”

Her eyes went directly to your left hand. “That’s a beautiful ring.” She says.

Here we go.

“Thank you.” You stick your hand out for added affect.

“When’s the wedding?” She asks.

“Next year. We have a lot of out of town family. We just want to make sure they have time to arrange travel.”

Look at me lie. Maybe I should have tried acting.

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” She replies with a wide smile. “I’d like to introduce you to a few people. Please come with me.”

You received a contract via e-mail later that evening. They were bringing you on for one film with the option of three additional films after production. Granted, that’s if you didn’t mess up. Joanna was right, this is the big leagues. If you could make it through the next three to four months, you’d have a long term contract with a major studio.

The next day you received the script. Winter’s Sin was the working title. Whether or not the title would stick was anyone’s guess. You had worked with a few well-known actors, but more of the B list variety. Wonderfully talented actors, but they just didn’t get the parts or the recognition they often deserved. This film had a couple of big names, Keanu Reeves and Chris Evans to be exact. Maggie Jessup was this year’s it girl and rumor had it, this movie was going to launch her into stardom. Generally, you didn’t get star struck, but this was Keanu Reeves! You first fell in love with him when you saw Speed. And again, when you watched The Lake House. Too bad you were technically “engaged”.

Pre-production was set to start next week. This week would be spent going over the script a few times and creating notes. Some wouldn’t consider it the fun part of the job, but you loved diving into a script before it was brought to life. It was also a bonus that you generally liked the script. It was sort of a weepy drama with a love story tied in. But the main plot was between two friends, Milo played by Keanu and William played by Chris. You stayed up half the night and made it almost all the way through. To say you were invested was an understatement.

You read through the script twice more over the next few days and felt ready. Next week you would meet with wardrobe and the writers. The cast would be fitted and you would take photos for your own personal files to make sure styles remain the same for the shoot. Of course, this could all change the day shooting begins which is why you needed to be on your A game and get all the drinking out of the way tonight. You’d have Sunday to recover before starting at the studio on Monday.

 Laurel Tavern wasn’t necessarily your favorite bar, but it had become the place to get a bite to eat and a few drinks. It was also the most centrally located place for you and your friends to meet. Joanna and her husband Ian picked you up on the way, knowing you wanted to drink to excess. The three of you along with Travis and Jemma were celebrating your new job tonight. The five of you often found reasons to celebrate whether it was finding a twenty dollar bill on the side of the road, not getting fired from a particular job you’ve been slacking at, for the record, that was Travis, or getting a full eight hours of sleep. Tonight, was really worth celebrating.

“What do you want girl?” Joanna asked, getting up from your usual booth. “First rounds on me. If you’re nice, I might even buy you a second.” She throws you a wink.

“Ummm. I’d like a margarita, hold the margarita.” You say in all seriousness.

“Tequila. Got it.”  She says before turning away and heading to the bar.

“Extra limes.” You shout.

She waves her hand behind her head, not bothering to spare your table a look.

Travis joins your booth, a couple of pints of beer in hand. “Here, I brought you one.” Setting a pint of golden goodness in front of you.

You lean over kissing his cheek. “I feel so special.” You coo.

Travis wormed his way into your life seven years ago. He was a senior in college at the time, tall and lanky with hair that stuck out from under his hat. He was filming his final project before graduation. The two of you had a mutual friend in common, Jemma, who was an ex-girlfriend of Travis, how they stayed friends, was beyond you. You helped with directing, a little bit of script management, and even filled in for makeup on a few days. Anything to help a friend of a friend. Travis became your pseudo little brother, well, a brother that you kissed once. You had just broken up with Chad, never date a guy name Chad. Anyway, you had just broken up with Chad and were feeling down in the dumps about yourself. He fed you some bullshit about never being there for him when he needed you. You got angry, he got angry, and then he told you that you weren’t hot enough for him. Yep, Chad was a douche. Travis invited you over, feed you pizza and a ton of beers, then you kissed. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but it felt weird. He was five years younger than you, but it wasn’t just that, he was too much like a brother. The two of you agreed that it was a mistake and never brought it up again. Not even Jemma knew.

The five of you munched on burgers and grilled cheese sandwiches. Jemma bought you a margarita, even after you told her you just wanted the tequila. Her motive was to mooch some of the beverage off of you.

“I don’t want all of the calories. I just want to try it.” She grins. Big rosy cheeks and wild blonde hair. Her British accent on full affect after already consuming a few shots herself. She had lived in the United States most of her life, but when she drank, the accent became heavier.

She grabs your drink, taking a hold of the straw and consumes half of it in one go. If you didn’t love her, you would have ditched her years ago.

Pushing Ian out of the booth, you get up on wobbly feet and make the long twenty foot journey to the bar. “I’ll get my tequila myself. Thank you very much.” You tell the table.

 It’s after midnight by the time you’re dropped off. Running a makeup remover cloth over your face and stripping down to a cami, you call it good enough and crawl into your cozy bed.

 After a pit stop at Starbucks, you make it to the studio an hour earlier than you need to be. After parking in Timbuctoo, you graciously accept the golf cart ride from security.

One of the admins directs you to a small office down a long hallway with similar offices. There’s a laptop computer, various pens and notepads on the desk. You unpack a small plant you picked up yesterday after you dragged your hungover self out of bed and to the grocery store for food. There was no window in your office which you figured; a little greenery would liven the place up, literally.

 An hour later, one of the producers, David, came by to introduce himself and walk you around the grounds and through the soundstage you’d be shooting on. Filming would take place on the soundstage for a little more than a month. Then everyone would move the whole operation to Vancouver. The movie was called Winter’s Sin after all and there wasn’t a whole lot of winter in Los Angeles.

Before stopping back in your office, David popped into the office across from yours. He knocked while walking in, apparently already comfortable with the occupant.

“Hey Monica. I want you to meet Y/N. She’s the assistant script supervisor I was telling you about.”

Assistant? What?

Monica got up from her chair to greet you. You plastered on a smile and stuck out your hand. She was around your age and seriously gorgeous. Beautiful thick brown hair with a touch of caramel highlights that hung just above her chest.  

“Hi, Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you. Would love to hear some of your ideas.”

“Same.”

What could you say? You weren’t told that you were an assistant script supervisor, you thought you had the position. Apparently, it was a shared position.

“Y/N will be working primarily with Chris and Keanu.”

Whoa. Well, at least there’s that.

Monica scoffs. “Really?”

Your eyes automatically go to her left hand. No ring. Of course.

“Yes, really. You’ve got Maggie. I think she can really flourish under your direction. Not to mention you have Hector, Tim, Daisy and Joe.

After the awkward exchange, you traded cellphone numbers with her and made plans to meet after the first read through with the cast.

Walking across the way into the safety of your office, you figured you might as well ask.

“I wasn’t aware that I was being hired on as an assistant script supervisor.”

David ran a hand down his face. “Y/N, listen. This is your first big film; you need to walk before you can run. Alright? If this goes well, you’ll probably get hired on as the lead.”

“Okay.” You sighed out

“Alright, I’ll see you later. Meeting at three on the soundstage.”

“Got it.” You replied, plopping yourself down in the desk chair.

David peeks his head back into your office. “You’ve got some visitors.”

“Thanks.” You call out, standing back up and pulling your door open wider.

Your heart stopped. At least you were pretty sure it did. Keanu and Chris were both in front of you. Yes, you were there to film a movie, but this felt like a freaking movie. The two of them, side by side, grins on their faces. Keanu’s hand outstretched while Chris’ hands were snugly in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Y/N, pleasure to meet you. I’m Keanu.”

You accept his hand but your pretty much speechless. You may have muttered “hi” but you can’t be sure. Sensing your nervousness, he gives you a smile and releases your hand. He looks to Chris and they exchange a silent conversation. Chris steps forward offering you his hand and once again you can’t breathe.

Has he always been this attractive? Apparently, I haven’t watched enough Avengers movies.

His hair’s a bit longer than what you remember from the one or two movies you’ve seen. He’s also sporting a full beard. Definitely something he can pull off.

You mentally slap yourself and pull your hand from his after you realize you hadn’t said anything.

“Um. Sorry. Haven’t had enough caffeine today. It’s nice to meet you both. I look forward to working with you on this shoot.”

“Nice plant.” Keanu says, pointing at the fern taking up the front corner of your desk.

You giggle. Like actually let out a giggle and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are flushed.

You’re a professional. Get your shit together.

“Well, you know?” Shrugging your shoulders. “Need to green the space up a bit.’

Chris nods his head and offers a closed mouth smile.

“Well, we won’t take up all your time. Just wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.” You reply with a wave.

Why am I so awkward?!

They both chuckle and Chris waves back at you.

Tomorrow you wouldn’t be so starstruck. These are just two men that you work with. Who cares that they both seem nice and are dangerously attractive? You’re an “engaged” woman who is also a professional. You can do this.

Yeah. I can do this.

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