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sirenologyyy · 2 years ago

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ROCKAWAY !

ao'nung x fem!sully reader

✷ premise : as tensions rise and your family is forced out of the only home you've ever known, fish boy meets forest girl and the rest is history (tragedy)

✷ warnings : kidnapping, swearing, injury, blood, violence, and death

✷ author's note : here's part 2 for you guys! Just a lil heads up the fight scene is in this one 👀 also hinewai is pronounced as HEE-neh-WAI !

part 2 of the SOLD OUT OF LOVE series

"These are ilu, if you want to live here you have to ride "

You turn to Neteyam and Lo'ak, your eyes meeting theirs.

"Don't tell me you're actually scared baby bro" Neteyam taunts, leaning closer to Lo'ak as they pretended to pay attention to Ao'nung teaching them how to properly bond with an ilu.

"Who the hell says i'm scared?"

"He's bluffing" You appended lightnight fast, keeping your eyes on Ao'nung while tilting your body towards your oldest brother.

"Yeah I know he is," He crowed. "I know his tell, his face turns purple and his tail draws zig-zags in the air-" He stops. "Oh my bad, he was just looking at Tsireya"

Lo'ak jabs his elbow against Neteyam's arm as you tried stifling your laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth before it was too late.

"Are you three even listening?" Ao'nung asks, zeroing his eyes at each of you respectively, his eyes lingering on your face longer than you had liked to the point that you had just raised both your eyebrows acknowledging him, he looks away innocently, glaring at Lo'ak once more.

Neteyam looks at him. "Right, yeah, sorry"

"Answer the question skxawng" He maintained.

Lo'ak stepped up, showing his palms. "Look take it easy alright? Don't need to get a knot in your tail so early in the morning"

The blue frog was a few seconds shy from steam leaving his ears and Tsireya quickly notices. "Now that Ao'nung has explained to you all the basics, who wants to go first?" She asks.

Innocently, you shove Lo'ak forward as the rest of you took a step backwards like something tugged at the neurological link that connected between siblings. He looked at all of you standing two steps away from him almost scandalised, betrayed, possibly even outraged.

"Lo'ak!" Tsireya exclaimed happily, clapping her hands as she wades toward him, pulling him to the ilu that had been circling her through out the entire session. He looked back at the rest of you in fear, you and Neteyam silently giving words of support and encouragement as Tsireya pulled him along with her.

"Swing your leg over her body" Ao'nung instructs once Tsireya dragged the both of you a few ways away from the others, you begrudgingly swung your right leg over the ilu's slender body, running a hand over her neck as an attempt to console it from the abrupt weight shift that was you sitting on her back.

You barely even blinked before you hear Ao'nung's tongue check in his mouth. "You're sitting on it wrong"

You whirl your head at him. "I'm sitting on it wrong? " You reiterate, widening your eyes at him in disbelief.

"Yes" He deadpans. "A million possible ways you can ride an ilu yet you ride it as if you're trying to wrestle with it"

You roll your eyes in frustration, but nearly jumping out of your skin when you feel his warm hand on your leg, out of instinct you jabbed your foot against his chest, sending him a few steps back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? He sends you a sharp look. "Relax Forest Girl, I am not here to violate you" He retaliates boredly. "Put your leg down here, you're not trying to ride an íkran," He began, shifting your leg to a different more comfortable position. "Go and make the bond"

You connect your queues together and a surge of memories wash over you, clear and exhilarating days of swimming in the open ocean, hunting for food, playing in the reefs, the fear of losing her parents to akulas, your stomach sinking as you watched it swim away, the love she had for her children, 5 babies, you felt as proud as she was.

"Now we can finally start by fixing that horrible posture of yours, Eywa Almighty you look like a deformed shrimp"

"Just teach me how to ride the goddamn thing"

"I'm getting there"

You huffed, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders, trying to get yourself used to sitting on an ilu.

"You have to treat her like she is one of your own," Ao'nung tells you, walking towards the head of the ilu. "You must be gentle, slow, treat her with respect, with compassion, and most of all ride her like you care for her-"

You finally slump. "Are you teaching me how to ride an ilu or get it pregnant?"

You heard his hand splash the surface of the water, your ilu baying at the sudden action. "Would the repercussions of murdering Toruk Makto's daughter short of death? because i am going to risk it"

"You talk too much" You tell him with a sour expression.

"You talk too much " He repeats in a tone that you assumed was a crude imitation of your voice.

Your jaw almost went slack if not for your brother, zooming past your peripheral on his ilu. You turn your body around, following his distorted figure until he is thrown off his ilu. You hear Ao'nung rise from the water and laugh as his other friends do, you realize how quickly you missed Rotxo's presence.

As Lo'ak swims back to the group, Ao'nung turns to you.

"Hold here" He says, gesturing to the ilu's gill mantle, you do as he says, adjusting your grip every now and then to see which one could keep you on the longest. "Mind your back, Forest Girl"

You straighten it once more. "Jesus Christ"

His face twists again. "What the hell is a Jesus Christ?" He stops himself. "You know what I do not want to know, keep your back straight and your legs in the same position as they were before or you will be sliding across the beach like a skipping stone"

"You're a real hit aren't you"

"I know" He grinned.

You let out a puff of air as you flexed your shoulders, feeling your back crack. "Y/N! It is your turn!" Tsireya calls out, beckoning you towards her and the empty space where Lo'ak had taken off just moments earlier. You swallowed, telling your ilu to move forward and as she does you lower your head closer to hers. "You won't throw me off will you?"

She clicks and yelps at you, only hoping that was her saying 'no worries pal'

Your ilu who you unofficially decided to name Hinewai, stops at the center of everyone. Lo'ak barely made it past that rock formation shaped like a fang, if you could somehow hang on til then and the way back then Ao'nung could shove that smug smile right up his ass.

"Okay, go!" Tsireya exclaimed.

"Hyah!" You yell, before filling your cheeks with air and descending under the water. It was a rough ride at first but you held onto the gill mantle for dear life while she flailed you around like some ragdoll, your left hand slips, you only manage to hold onto it again after a minute of her chasing some fish through the coral reef, making hard turns, your legs and arms getting scraped by the rocky surfaces of coral. She catches it just outside the small reef and you tell her to bring you up for some air, coincidentally a few steps away from the group.

Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk, and Tsireya started cheering you on as your body broke through the water , Lo'ak a little less considering his twin baby sister just rode and ilu and didn't fall off like he did. On the first try nonetheless, and lastly Ao'nung who didn't utter a peep.

"You were amazing out there!" Neteyam shouts, wading up to you with the rest of your siblings.

"It didn't feel like it" you admitted, almost laughing in the process.

"You should've seen Lo'ak's face when he realized you were coming back still riding your ilu" Kiri giggles, earning a nudge from Lo'ak who simply grinned before trapping you in a headlock and digging a knuckle against your hair, you try and push him off before smacking him in the face which catches him off guard.

"Teyam and Lo'ak were betting on you, you know, they said if you fell then Neteyam gets Lo'ak's chores for two weeks" Kiri adds before Lo'ak slaps his hand on her mouth, passing it off with a little laugh.

"It's true," Tuk says, looking at Lo'ak. "If you did fell Lo'ak gets Neteyam's chores plus a week's worth of yovo fruit"

"Tuk hit her head on the wall before leaving the house, she dosen't know what she's saying" says Lo'ak.

Tuk was about to object before Lo'ak picks her up sideways and blows raspberries on her stomach, bringing her to Tsireya to feed the ilus.

"Where is your brother?"

"He's down by the beach"

Neytiri frowns. "It is lunch time, very unlikely for Lo'ak not to be here by now"

"He had a big breakfast" You tell her, setting down the basket of fish you and Neteyam managed to catch after riding the ilus. "Near threatened to beat me if I didn't give him my share of banana fruit this morning"

A couple of your siblings chuckle along with you.

"Look, if he's hungry he can come to us, me and your mom have business to take care of after lunch so we gotta eat quick" Jake disclosed, nodding at the empty spots next to the dining table as he himself sat down. Neytiri asks Kiri to lead the prayer and once she was done thanking for the food you've all received and whatnot you started to dig in. Nabbing a piece of fish, breaking it apart, ripping a piece of meat, and popping it in your mouth.

"I heard you all practiced with ilus today," Jake starts, swallowing. "How'd that go?"

"It went okay, sir" Neteyam answers beside you. "Challenging at first but nothing a little practice couldn't fix"

"Good to hear" says Jake.

"Ma'ite, please sit properly" Neytiri says, looking at you. You resist the urge to groan so you put your leg down, your elbow previously resting on it before she spots you from across the table. This was stupid.

"Is that an eyeroll?" Jake wonders almost instantly, your ears flicking down for a millisecond before you look up at him to make sure he was talking to you. Yeah he was talking to you. "No, sir" you reply.

"Better not be"

"Teyam, pass the fish" Kiri asks quietly, pointing her chin at the basket of fish located in between you and him, he hands it to her across the table, watching her lips to mutter a small thank you.

You see your dad break apart a yovo fruit. "How're you all treatin' the Olo'eyktan's children? You nice to them?"

More like were they nice to us?

"Yes sir"

"Great, I need that to remain a constant, I expect the best from all of you alright?" Now that Lo'ak wasn't here his eyes find yours instantly. "Yes?"

A scattered chorus of yes sir's and yes dad's were heard across the dining table.

"Before we make dinner I want you two to help me with repurposing some of Tuk's old clothes" Says Neytiri, she didn't have to look at any of you for you to know who she was referring to.

"Okay" Kiri replies, breaking apart a yovo fruit as well, splitting the other half with Tuk.

"Okay" you say, flipping the fish to its other side to pick at the remaining meat.

You hear the collision of a wooden glass onto the table. "Should we head over?" Jake asks, looking at Neytiri who seemed to have finished eating as well, she responds with a silent nod.

They stand up from the table in unison, going over to wash their hands before they head on out. "I don't want none of you clowning around when we're away is that clear?" You barely had any time to respond before your Dad starts talking again. "Be on your best behavior or I swear you'll never hear the end of it from me"

"Be good, all of you" Mom adds.

"Neteyam, Y/N, up and at 'em " Neteyam stands up straight, straight back, straight face, so do you, though a bit slower than him. "You're in charge as usual, you know what to do once your siblings start upsetting the apple cart, you read me?"

Neteyam gives him a curt nod. "Affirmafive sir, loud and clear"

"Now for you," He says rounding on you. "Don't bite off more than you can chew alright?"

"Aye, aye" You reply, your voice hinting at the slightest almost impercievable tone of sarcasm you so desperately wanted to use.

"Alright, dismissed" and just like that they were gone.

You finally slouch again. "Come on, hurry up and finish your food before they come back"

Neteyam sighed. "Don't do that, you might choke on a fishbone"

"We can just see who's faster at putting away the plates" Tuk suggested, pushing a piece of fish in her mouth she stole from your plate.

"Do you want my fish?" You just ask, she nods and so you ripped her half of whatever meat was left before you wolfed down the rest.

Neteyam downs a glass of water. "Hah! Done!"

"Yeah well so am I!" Tuk combats incoherently, her cheeks full of fish before she swallows it all down.

"We're all done, silly" says Kiri, standing up and bringing her leaf to the sink where she scrapes all of what was left of her plate down the hole, an ilu that was waiting beneath the hut chomping on all of the left overs.

"Tuk go grab the rest of the bowls " You tell her, scraping your scraps down the hole before giving it to Kiri who washed it down.

Once the table was cleared and the dishes were put away you all go out of the hut, Kiri down to the beach to find Lo'ak while you and Neteyam watch Tuk running off towards a group of village children who beckoned her to play with them, not looking back at you any longer.

You turn to Neteyam. "Eywa, I wish it was that easy to make friends here"

He chuckles. "Come on, it's Tuk" He tells you knowingly.

"I wish we were all like Tuk" you sang, sighing greatly.

"They probably just start out really sweet, and as they grow older they turn all twisted and mean, like Ao'nung"

"No" You tell him, shaking your head, staring at your youngest sister slowly turn into a blurry figure as she got farther and farther away from you. "He was dropped as a child, it's the only explanation"

You and him walk along the coastline, enjoying the cold breeze, the warm sun, before Kiri's voice captures your attention. You didn't need to see the look on Neteyam's face before the both of you ran towards the sound. Under the shade of the trees you see Kiri and Lo'ak.

And Ao'nung and his friends.

Neteyam gets there faster than you, turning Ao'nung to face him. "You heard what she said, leave them alone"

You see one of Ao'nung's cronies step up. "Ohh, big brother coming to-" He stops as Ao'nung stops him with a hand across his chest.

"-Back off, now" Neteyam snarled, prodding a finger at Ao'nung's chest. He takes a step back, throwing his arms up in the air to show he concedes.

This man cannot be serious.

"They don't have it in them to hit us, just a couple of lap dogs and their ring leader" You say, siding with Neteyam, eyes landing on Ao'nung who looked like he was about to transform into a plum. "Come on you guys, we're done here" You tell your siblings, walking off in annoyance before one of his friends pushes you back in the circle.

"Don't touch me" You snap, slapping his arm away and shoving his chest backward.

"Hey!" Neteyam bellows, walking up to one of his goofy ass looking friends, staring at every single one of them in the process. "From now, on I need you to respect my sisters, got that?"

So he just resorts to hissing at him. With that, Neteyam grabs your and Lo'ak's shoulders, leading the both of you out of there.

"Ba-bye!" Taunts one.

"Look at them, freaks, all four of them" You hear Ao'nung whisper, your hand started to twitch involuntarily. You turn around to give them a piece of your mind but realize that Lo'ak was already 5 steps ahead of you.

"Lo'ak" you say, abandoning your original plan, sensibility taking over.

He turns to you. "I got this, sis"

"I know this hand is funny," He began, flexing his fingers at them. "Look, I'm a freak, an alien" He tells them as they laughed. "But it can do something really cool, watch, see- you have to ball it up real tight like this, and then-"

BAM. One hit square on the nose.

BAM. another across his face.

BAM. One last, under the chin sending his ass falling down to the sand.

You couldn't help but let out a laugh at the sight, Neteyam and Kiri glaring at you.

"It's called a punch bitch! Never touch my sisters again!" Lo'ak yelled before Ao'nung rams into him. Lo'ak turns him over and punches him once more, the other boys dragged him back by his tail, one of the burly looking ones slapping him hard across the face with his own.

It wasn't fair if you simply stood and watched this right? You needed to put a stop to this.

So without thinking you started running.

Running towards the fight, dragging one of the boys away from your brother by his queue, landing one across his face, dodging a punch from another before headbutting him instead. Someone drags you away by your tail, falling to the sand with a loud thud, you turn to your back and jab your heel against his loincloth, springing back up before one of the boys turn you around to try and land a punch, one to the right, dodge, one to the left, until he just kneed you in the ribs making you double over so that he could finally land a punch to your cheekbone, then another punch to your cheekbone before you grab his fist, turn him around and kick his back, taking another boy down in the process, leaving them to the care of Neteyam who had joined the fight moments after you.

Ao'nung comes at you from behind, sending the both of you down, your head landing hard on a rock sending shock waves through your skull, your temple had started to bleed as you turn him over, landing punches on his nose until it bled, he kicks you off of him, punching your stinging cheekbone, your nose, your cheekbone, then your nose, as static began to fill your vision.

"You hit like a girl!" You screamed at him, struggling underneath his grip.

"So do you!" He shouts back before you try and push him off you, struggling underneath him before resorting to kicking his groin with your knee which worked like a charm, you were on your feet a second later, spitting out the liquid iron taste that filled your mouth. You switched positions, pinning him down which caught him off guard as you tried to land another hit on his face before he got away, you see the look on his face and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Careful, wouldn't want me to think you enjoy being underneath me do you?" You intoned.

Ao'nung's gaze was piercing and vile enough to poison a thanator. "I'd rather pull my spine out of my ass than ever come close to liking you"

With one last punch to his face you scramble towards Lo'ak who had three on him. You pull one away by his tail, dragging him across the beach before punching another one square to the throat, watching him choke and stagger back before you landed two punches to his face, pinning him down, getting lost in the moment and splitting his eyebrow open. The boy was absolutely befuddled, he does everything he could to get you off of him, but to no avail, he resorted to claw at you, causing your necklace to split, beads flying everywhere.

You feel your shoulder turned around by someone, it was Ao'nung once more with another punch to the nose, feeling hot blood dribble out from your nostrils, you pull his arm down, placing a knee on his ribs and finally letting go all of your pent up frustrations onto his face, you weren't even sure if the blood on your knuckles were his or yours.

"All that mouth yet you still can't fight with your fists" He pants with a sickening grin, the dark red patches on his face contrasting with the cool teal of his skin.

Your jaw tightens, forgetting the pain, letting rage take the wheel as you pulled your dagger out of its sheath, raising it up to his neck and watching as the sight of it wipes the cocky grin off his face, his lips parting in shock. "You're right, I don't, but i'm damn sure I can fight with this"

"You won't " He spat.

But you nod. "Oh but I would, I really would"

He tries to get out of your grip, you didn't even have to do anything for your knife to knick his skin.

"You want me to take this off your neck?" You ask, looking at his eyes for an answer, you weren't satisfied on what you got so you deepened your knife against his neck, making him let out a broken hiss. "Don't touch my siblings again, or so help me Eywa I will slit your throat and watch while you bleed dry on the beach then I'll call on my íkran to feast on your scorched corpse" You hissed. "You got that reef boy?"

But he does not answer, instead he stares up at you in silence, the only sound eliciting his lips were the ragged breaths he took, you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against yours, his aquamarine eyes bouncing from every point of your face, almost reading you, until the grip on your knife loosened.

You found yourself reading him too, confusion and frustration making your face twist.

That is until someone pulls you away from him, and at the spur of the moment you almost feel like his hands tried to wrap themselves around your waist before your body was so quickly pulled out of his clutches.

Another boy gave you an uppercut, then another knee to the gut before you pointed your knife at him, sending him backwards. You try and stand up, regaining your balance as you let a grin spread on your stinging face.

"That's it," you taunt, nodding at him, unconciously baring your fangs. "Back up"

One of them tries to make a leap for you but you just do the same, so they hiss instead. Fine, you thought. You throw your dagger through the gap between them, making it's mark on a tree behind them, they were stunned to say the least, it even had wisps of hair sticking out from where the knife met the tree, they look back at you horrified.

You see them run away hurriedly calling for their ilus, Ao'nung being the last as he gave you one last look before riding his ilu.

You close your mouth, tasting blood before you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. "Candy-ass bitch" you mutter to yourself.

You were only brought out from your reverie when you hear the familiar screech of an ikran.

Well, shit

" What was the one thing I asked? "

You huffed, clutching your side. "Stay out of trouble" you say with Lo'ak.

"Stay out of trouble" your Dad repeats for emphasis.

You see Neteyam stepping forward. "Dad, it was my fault"

"No, I don't think so, you gotta stop taking the heat for these knuckleheads" He snapped, turning to you and Lo'ak.

You purse your lips, hesitating before stepping forward "Dad- S-Sir, Ao'nung was picking on Kiri" You try to explain.

"He called her a freak, they picked on Y/N too!, they pushed her around!"

"Lo'ak you asshole!" You shout at Lo'ak, your temper rising once more.

"Hey!" Jake yells, making you flinch, your ears ringing at the volume nowhere near matching your voice, it ceased another impending argument. "What were you thinking? Neteyam, how could you let this happen?"

"Sir, things just got out of hand"

"Bullshit" He says, shaking his head. "If you had handled the fight early on, if you handled it properly we could've stopped this from ever happenning, do you see that?"

Neteyam nods, staring at the floor.

Jake snaps his fingers repeatedly. "Do you see what i'm talking about Neteyam??"

"Yes, sir" He finally says, seeing his eyes blink like rapid-fire.

"Don't even get me started on the two of you" Jake complains, pointing a finger at you and Lo'ak, swinging like a pendulum, eyes landing on your twin brother. "You hit them first! You never hit- what do I always say? "

"Never hit first or else you're no better than them"

"Exactly!" Jake exclaims. "What did you do? Did you listen to me?"

Lo'ak shook his head. "No"

"No, because you never listen do you?"

Lo'ak's ears droop, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jake looks at you and you look at him, trying to push down any iota of fear you had within you. "Christ Y/N, where do I even begin with you"

"Maybe the part where Ao'nung and-"

"-No, you don't get to talk!" He boomed, rounding on you and you quickly avert your eyes. "You don't get to talk! not after what you said to him, the Olo'eyktan's son! Do you forget who he is Y/N? The chief's son!"

"I get it, Dad" You insist, staring at the floor.

"Another word from you and you're grounded for a week" He threatens. "is this really the shit you wanna pull???"q He asks, shouting at your face as you pursed your lips together, an attempt at stopping the tears that threatened to fall. "You're lucky if the Tsahík ever lets you step a foot on the beach again!"

"Well that son of a bitch deserved it" You said bravely.

"I don't care if he did or not, you are in the wrong, you need to see that"

"Dad, she was only trying to-"

"-zip it" He tells Neteyam. "I expected this shit from your bothers but never from you, never you, now you- you went out there and proved me wrong... what do you gotta say for yourself?"

You remained silent and you heard him hum. "That's what I thought"

His flick upwards to your bleeding temple, your bruised face and suddenly he starts remembering that stormy night. "You pulled a goddamn knife to his neck, Y/N, a knife! Are you insane? "

Your own father calling you insane was worse than any blows you had to endure from those boys.

Neytiri enters the hut, walking up to you. "Ma Jake, she gets it, please stop" She says, placing her hand on your shoulder before you shrug it away harshly.

"That's the problem, she dosen't does she?, she never thinks it through, punch first questions later, isn't that right?" He taunts, looking at you, still maintaining a shit poker face. "I can't believe you" He tells you whilst shaking his head in disapproval, that's when your lower lip starts to tremor and your throat start to to cave in.

"You have no idea how disappointed I am of you" He says to the three of you, his tail swishing in the air in frustration. "Most especially you " He tells you, feeling your stomach sink, your eyes start to fog up.

"Go apologise to Ao'nung, both of you"

"What?" Lo'ak retaliates.

"I don't care how you do it, just go and make peace"

Lo'ak heads out first, walking down the steps and onto the beach.

"So what'd the other guys look like?" Jake asks Neteyam.

"Worse"

Jake nods. "Good"

"A lot worse" You hear Neteyam say as you had your back against your Dad, knowing you weren't leaving the hut to apologise to Ao'nung. Turning towards the forest when you see Ronal and Tonowari out on the beach, talking to Ao'nung's friends and hearing the words "have you seen him around-?" before their conversation deemed too incoherent to decipher.

Your chest felt too tight, your eyes felt too hot, your back ached, your head was spinning. You had found yourself hiding in a secluded part of the island, surrounded by trees and wildlife, water trickling down the stone formations that stood behind you, birds flee above your warbling and squawking, insects chirping and squeaking.

You covered your ears as you allowed the tears to spill from your eyes, curled up into a ball as you stared into the void.

You couldn't breathe.

The world was moving too fast and you couldn't catch up, your grip on it loosening.

You tried forgetting the words your Dad told you, making yourself believe that they didn't matter because he was just angry and he only wanted to look out for you, but you couldn't, your mind was sealed shut and nothing came in or out.

You were spiraling now.

You couldn't breathe, your lungs felt like they were set on fire

Suddenly your mind started to become loud. So loud that it made you wonder where the sound was coming from, you were alone weren't you?

Was it all just happenning inside your head?

That's the problem, she dosen't does she?, she never thinks it through, punch first questions later, isn't that right?

You remember his voice, how he mocked you, how he taunted you.

Are you insane?

You shut your eyes tight, shaking your head, convincing yourself that this was all in your head.

You have no idea how disappointed I am of you, especially you.

"Stop" you tell the disembodied voice, keeping your hands clasped tightly over your ears "You aren't real, you aren't real"

"Who isn't real?"

You whirl your head at lightning speed, almost giving yourself a whiplash in the process, there, just a few steps away from you was Ao'nung, all battered and bruised, standing behind a stream of sunlight.

You stand up abruptly. "Go away" you tell him, turning around to face the rock formation, wiping your tears away.

He stands there for a moment, just looking at you, seeing the wet trails on your cheeks before you so hurriedly turn away from him. "I'm not here to taunt you, Forest Girl" He tells you.

You hum, turning back around. "I don't believe you"

He stepped forward now, directly into the sunlight, highlighting his bruises the shape of golfballs, his eyes turning into a shade of blue you never knew existed. "Fine, believe what you want to" he sighed.

"Have you come to laugh at me?"

He throws his arms in the air only to have them land on either side of his hips with a thwack. "Eywa, were you not just listening to me talk?"

"I'm afraid I hadn't been paying attention to you at all" you confessed dryly.

He gives you a look. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I like looking at rocks"

"You lie" He muttered.

"No I don't"

"Are too"

"I really like how they're so grey"

He raises his eyebrows at you. "Tell me the truth, Forest Girl"

"I wanted to be alone" You say. "I don't like the beach, I don't like the Marui, I wanted some place where it felt like everything was still simple, even when it's not"

Then, a brief moment of silence.

Ao'nung looks around, there were the trees, the grass, the flowers, the insects, the shrubs, the plants.

"I understand" He says, shocking you to your very core. "You are an outsider, you do not belong here in Awa'tlu"

You couldn't help the snuff that comes out of your nose. "Thanks"

"But my people use this trail often," He explained. "you will not feel at peace here"

You stay silent, thinking about what he said, how he said it, how he's behaving, no signs of hostility, or resentment, his parents have sent him away to apologise to you, that much you know.

"Your parents are finding you, you know" He tells you after a moment.

"So are yours" you tell him, recalling the moment you saw Ronal and Tonowari, talking to his other friends to know if they've spotted him or not. "You should go back"

"So should you" He bounces back.

Then, in the distance, you hear his friends calling for him, both of you turning towards the sound.

"Hey," you say, turning to him. "Do me a solid and don't lead them here okay? I'm too tired for another fight, as much as I want to beat your dim friends to a pulp I can't afford another screwup"

He stops in his tracks for a moment before he nods at you. "I wasn't going to" He says, making your eyebrows knit at the middle. "But fine, don't think I'll let you off so easy next time"

"I doubt you won't"

He turns his head back to the way he came. "I'm here! I'm here! Stay where you are I'm coming to you" He shouts before beginning to push past the overgrown leaves that was blocking the path. It addles you when you see him stop walking. "By the way, i've never met someone, let alone a girl, that can put up a fight as well as you did"

You giggle through your nose, a smile cracking on his face before he leaves you alone.

You didn't apologise to him like your father had wanted but at least it was an entire conversation where not one of you tried to spite eachother.

You kept avoiding him during lessons which was hard considering Tsireya insists that you and him were a pair already.

So far today was just practicing the transition from holding your breath for long periods under water and learning how to regain your breathe once your ilu leaps out of the water and back again, sticking mostly to your big brother than usual.

Also the fact that Ao'nung and Lo'ak still kept sending death glares to eachother during training was another highlight you've yet to mention, it got so bad that Tsireya had to dismiss all of you two hours early saying that all of your siblings did good, and that you deserved the rest of the day off.

You slap the back of Lo'ak's head. "You're doing it again"

"What do you mean?"

"Quit staring at him, it's distracting" Neteyam says.

"Jesus Lo, just rip off eachother's clothes and hit it in the sack already"

He stood up from his seat, pointing a finger at you. "You're messed up"

You giggle at him as he walks off, you turn to Neteyam who sat beside you, remaining quiet.

"Is dad talking to you yet?"

You shook your head, brushing sand off your feet as you and him sit by the roots. "No, I doubt he ever will"

"Chin up baby sis" He tells you, hooking an arm around your shoulder, shaking you gently. "It has only been two days, I'm sure he will come around"

"If it was you maybe" you tell him before squinting at the beach, watching the whitecaps forming in the horizon. "You and Lo'ak have Dad, say what you want but I know Dad always wanted two boys, Mom has Kiri and Tuk, me, I'm just... I'm not like you, 'Teyam" You found yourself saying, looking at him now. "I cheated my way out of death, became an Avatar, Kiri and I aren't your siblings by blood but at least she was born Na'vi-"

"-It dosen't seem that different to me" Neteyam interrupted you. "I always saw you as my sister, even if you only reached up to my waist when we were kids, even if you had no tail, no fangs, none of that mattered to me... so what if you look a little different now? You've always been Y/N, you've always been my little sister"

Silence ensues as the wind blew in from the sea.

"Shit Neteyam" You finally laugh, looking at the tree tops above you so that the tears that threatened to brim your eyes would somehow fall back in. "It's only 4 pm, damn you"

He cackles, pulling you closer to him until you finally just scoot over, resting your head on his shoulder. Watching the swell of the waves, lapping up at the sand before falling back into the ocean, watching as fishermen cast their nets into the water, children swimming after eachother, hearing the faint yelps of ilus in the background.

You sit there for a few minutes, possibly even half an hour, before Neteyam stands up saying he'll go check up on Kiri and Tuk and see if their Marui was still standing, and with that you are left to your own devices. You begin to hate the quiet and so you stand up and start walking into the lush fauna Awa'atlu had to offer, dancing past moss covered rocks, avoiding skittish insects crawling about. You hear a twig snap behind you, your ears perk up, and a cold feeling washes over your back, your fingers wrap themselves around the hilt of your dagger as you began walking deeper into the forest, staying light on your feet as you hear the rustling grow louder.

You swerve behind a waterfall and start running, slipping in and out of trees, ducking over overgrown branches until you bump into a teal wall of flesh, the impact was so hard you practically bounced off of eachother.

"What the hell do you think you're trying to pull?"

Ao'nung shows you his palms. "Take it easy, no need to get angry again"

"Were you the one following me?" You pressed.

"Yes, until you started running which made me have to run after you"

You abandon your fighting stance, standing up straighter. "Is this some sick joke?"

You see him scratch the side of his mouth. "I realized I never apologised to you... for- for the fight"

"I thought you'd have forgotten it by now"

"Pretty hard not to" He laughed. "I got an earful once I came back home, couldn't stop thinking about it ever since, I even lost sleep because of it"

"My deepest sympathies" You droned.

"I guess I just wanna say that I am sorry" Ao'nung mutters. "For hitting you"

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek as you look around, hearing yourself up for an apology. "I'm sorry too... for hitting you, i'm sorry that you deserved it, i hoped it hurt"

He blinked.

"Also sorry for calling you all those names, sorry for talking about you behind your back, sorry for shit talking you in front of my parents-"

He stops you with his hand. "-what?"

"Yeah"

"Fine, apology accepted" He replied gruffly, half-shrugging. "Now come on, I want to show you something"

"Like hell i'm going to follow you anywhere"

"I'm not going to murder you if that's what you're so worried about"

"Why don't I believe you?" You sassed, raising a lone eyebrow at him.

"I never asked you to believe, I only want you to trust me"

It made you think. "If I trust you, I need to believe that you won't cause me any harm, to trust is to believe"

"It works both ways Forest Girl" you could tell he was getting tired of your technicality.

Huh. "I suppose you are right"

"Are you coming or not?" He calls after you, already several steps away.

You follow him in silence, praying to Eywa he was being true to his word and was not in fact leading you to your death. The pair of you finally reach the end of the forest, a secluded beach, you see him walk all the way to the edge of the water where he called on his ilu, urging you to do the same. You called on Hinewai and you saddled her waiting for further instructions from Ao'nung, when he starts moving forward so do you, when he stops by a huge rock formation covered with palm trees and lush flowers you stop too.

"We have to swim from this point forward" He tells you, jumping off his ilu and sending it off.

You cautiously jump off yours, making a splash as your body hit the water. "I will even race you" He says.

"What are we, 10?"

He half-shrugs, giving you a boyish smile. "Take it as a practice drill"

He dives down and so do you, following him deeper, and deeper also while trying to beat him there, wherever there was. The huge rock formation had stretched down farther than you had hoped, when you spot the hole and watched Ao'ning swim inside, you were having second thoughts about following him in, but your competitiveness took over you and you pursued him, swimming faster so that you could catch up to him. He began swimming upwards, and so do you, propelling yourself as quick as you could so that you'd be head to head, your chest was starting to tighten again and you felt like his was as well, so it was a race to the top.

After what felt like hours you resurfaced and took a huge intake of breath, beating Ao'nung by mere seconds.

"Hah! Take that!" You exclaimed, hooting and cackling as your laughter bounces off the walls of the cave which were covered in bioluminescent bugs resembling Teylu, casting the cave in a soft blueish hue.

"Where are you??" He asks, whirling his head around.

"I'm right here dumbass!" You say, splashing the water which catches his attention.

He laughed loud, wiping his face of water. "I can't see a thing! Can you see?"

You giggled, throwing your head back. "Yeah, yeah! I can see! I see you!"

You both freeze, your splashing had ceased and you both just floated here, staring at eachother's hazy faces in the dark.

"Uhm-" He starts, scratching his head.

"Should i-"

"No-! Yes-! Go ahead"

You swim out of the water, propping yourselves onto the rough rock, he gestures you to follow him deeper into the cave and he stops walking, sticking his back towards the wall and pointing his chin at the most magnificent thing you've ever laid your eyes on.

Your jaw drops to your feet as you marveled at the sight before you.

"Holy fuck" you say.

AAAAAND THAT'S PART 2! The fight scene was incredibly fun to write as you can see I kinda lengthened it just cuz I had the creative freedom, also the scene with Jake, Neteyam, and Lo'ak gotta have some angst in this chapter, even though there's more coming in the suceeding parts. Anyways!!!! I hope you enjoyed! <3

#ao'nung x fem!reader #metkayina #omatikaya #jake sully #neytiri #ao'nung fic #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #tsireya #neteyam #spider #lo'ak #kiri #tuk #rotxo #atwow #atwow ao'nung #avatar the way of water #sold out of love ao'nung

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goldkirk · 10 months ago

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Greetings!

1, 2, 3, 6, 8, 11, 14, 15, 25, 29, 52, 60, 63, 76, 95, 97 and 99?

P.S.: I read your tags, so thanks for the compliment! :-D

oh my god this is so many, you're a riot hahaha! thank you for sending this in!

Most favorite activity?

This is so hard. I love so many things. I guess my best effort to sum a lot of things up would be "hoarding and organizing information in my notebooks), a beloved pastime from about age six to now lol.

2. Least favorite one?

Either brushing my teeth or touching wet dirty sink dishes while needing to hand wash them or load a dishwasher.

3. One activity you really hate?

I've been trying to think of one but I'm drawing a blank. I guess cleaning dog poop out of my shoes after someone has left dog poop on the sidewalk or another walkway.

6. Do you have any idols?

Nah I don't go in for that these days. I definitely have some people I admire or look up to. Not to any level I'd say idols though.

8. Favorite music genre?

Dance! I love all types of genres but I listen most often to dance music.

11. Which kind of animal are you most afraid of?

Hmm. AFRAID of...jellyfish.

14. Do you think there’s a higher species than us humans?

Nah, at least not on our planet. But I don't think we're particularly high among all species, I think we're just particularly unique.

15. Do you believe in ghosts?

As a weird subjective phenomenon some of us experience in our lives? For sure. As "ghosts are the unfinished-business spirits of human dead people", no.

25. Can you dance? Is there any dance you want to learn someday?

Not well anymore, but I'm working on it. I was in love with ballet and wanted to do it forever. I'd like to get back into ballet classes, for adults this time. It's still the way my body most wants to dance. I took a ballroom dancing course for a hot minute. We were allowed to do swing dances when I was homeschooled, so I got pretty good at swing dance and some swing dance tricks.

29. Good memory from your childhood you keep remembering?

The first time I saw a snake in real life and it was a woman in public wearing a snake while walking down the street and she didn't get mad I was interested, she totally treated me like a Small Human Being and answered my questions and LET ME HOLD AND PLAY WITH IT MYSELF. I was like 7 and this was a core memory for me, much to the horror of my poor family members who were with me at the time when I dead-stopped us all in a state we didn't live in in a city we didn't know to talk to a strange woman and bond with her over a huge larger-than-adult-size-feather-boa-scarves snake lmao.

52. Do you think there are some breathing beings on earth contained behind ceilings or walking amongst us somehow with special abilities or powers? (as in most sci-fi and fantasy books, comics, movies)

Man this would be cool but unfortunately no lol

60. If you would have the money to donate what would you donate for?

Oh god I literally have a list about this! I'd donate all over the place, but the first few donations would definitely be to a few grassroots charities I care about and the all the local food pantries and education nonprofits that I can.

63. On your opinion, what should people do about climate change?

Force industry regulations, despite all the kicking and screaming the firms and their political-system lobby groups will throw at all of us about it.

Create a fast-moving national campaign of interconnected state and local ecosystem experts that can partner with local landowners all over their area and any municipalities they can convince to help to rewild as much land as possible with the actually-native plants. MOST PRIMARILY IN THE BREAD BASKET. The soil has GOT to be replenished, and the native grasses store at minimum roughly two times as much carbon underground than any of the cash crops or hay or weed grasses do.

Seriously invest right now, immediately, right away, in any adaptations your area will need to make in order to cope better with the changing and intensifying storms, floods, water level rises, droughts, wildfires, deep freezes, heat waves, etc., anything and everything that your area will for certain have eventually impact it.

End unethical overseas labor systems and the cobalt mining/electronics burning/etc. markets that exist because of the inequity and greed at every level and continual corruption not being overthrown.

Drastically reduce all western meat culture and industrial farming to the normal, sustainable levels of meat eating human families averaged until the very recent past.

Actually stop the driving forces behind systemic mistrust, conspiracy rabbit holes, and succeptibility to misinformation.

And do anything possible to slow tropical deforestation and invest in antibiotic research as fast and effectively as possible. We're already far behind the enemy because it hasn't been profitable to research antibiotics in the eyes of the pharmaceutical companies. With the climate and ecosystem shifts, we're going to have a wild ride with both insect bugs and bacteria bugs, I'm sure.

76. What’s the most romantic thing you ever have done for someone?

Oh man, I can't answer this one, I'm sorry. It's not that I wouldn't like to, I just don't know if I've ever tried to do something truly romantic, because I'm still not sure I understand what romantic most accurately means, so I'll have to get back to you on this one.

95. What’s something you really want to do some day with your/a partner?

I never thought about this until you asked it just now. I guess...maybe...............go overseas and explore some part of another country? My brain keeps giving me blanks, I don't know if it knows how to think about this yet. I'll keep working on it. But it does sound fun to go with a partner on a sort of few-places trip of random interest events or something.

97. Worst catchy song you ever heard?

"Blurred Lines".

99. Does it matter to you there is no 100th question in here?

Hahahaha! It does kind of bug me, not gonna lie, but I chose to embrace it as a rounder, artistic, more organic experience of the concept of an "ask game 100 questions list", like an art exhibit

Thank you for the questions!! Hope you're doing well! <3

#katie answers asks #younganonymus #ask games

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saikenakoego · 15 days ago

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What the heck, I'll also answer these with Sammy because I've been feeling edgy as hell lately.

Last one with this gal, for real this time. The unwilling vampire-turned-vampire hunter, Sammy

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

1. Excluding murder, what's the worst thing you've done?

SM: Considering the idea of giving in to the thirst at all.

2. Have you ever killed someone?

SM: Not someone, something. They're not people.

3. Have you ever killed a friend/family member/loved one?

SM: No. This question makes me incredibly angry.

4. What appears in your darkest nightmares?

SM: Blood that isn't my own.

5. What is your moral code?

SM: Protect the natural, kill the unnatural. Simple as.

6. Would you make a deal with the devil?

SM: Not even if it offered me salvation. I've killed demons. I know how that goes.

7. How far are you willing to go to get what you want?

SM: Far enough.

8. Would you consider yourself as evil?

SM: By virtue of my condition, yes.

9. Do you enjoy watching others suffer?

SM: I can't feel joy. But watching them squirm like the parasites they are as I send them straight to hell is... cathartic.

10. Have you ever tortured someone?

SM: Something. More than once. And I'll do it again. Until I inflict as much pain on them as they did to me.

11. If you were arrested, what would the charges be?

SM: Theft. Don't ask.

12. Who do you hate the most?

SM: ...Myself.

13. What is your "villain song"?

OOC: She doesn't really have one, but I tend to listen to Devils Never Cry when I draw her. Maybe Bring Me To Life by Evanescence? That's a certified Edge™️ classic.

14. If you draw: Draw your OC's darkest moment or reimagine them as a demon!

OOC:

Not really her darkest moment, but,

'Sammy looked ahead at the man who had once been her token of admiration.

A man of good, of kindness and sincerity. Who had once guided them into the right path.

Who'd once walked into her home not as a friend, nor as a figure of authority, but as family.

An equal. To her father, a brother. And to her mother, a cousin.

He stood there quietly, illuminated by the bright moonlight coming through the church's windows as he calmly straightened the creases of his vestment.

Staring coldly at the beaten and bloodied body of an unconscious Silver.

It had happened so quickly, she didn't even have time to react.

Before she knew it, she'd been slammed into the ground with enough force to shatter her spine.

It only took one or two seconds after that for her friend to follow suit and be reduced to a wheezing mess.

And she was powerless to do anything about it. As it always was. Forced to listen to the shrieks of pain of another victim while her wakened body tried its best to repair itself with what little blood she had left in her.

It angered her.

But what angered her the most was the unfeeling expression that bloodsucking bastard had all throughout.

It angered her so, so much.

"Now," the man finally spoke, wiping his bloodied hands with a pure white cloth "We can finally talk."

To hell with that, she thought.

"How peculiar" he continued "Those eyes of yours. They rage with the embers of hatred. Is it me that you despise?"

The man walked forward, into the shadows where she lay, matching her piercing stare with his own.

"I wonder why?" He calmly mused.

And then he placed a foot on her left arm. Pushing slowly, steadily, watching the skin tear apart and the bone splinter with a grotesque sound.

Of course, she didn't feel any of it. They both knew she couldn't. And to her, that was the worst punishment he could've given her.

"You were always quite fiery. The way you'd listen to the sermons, pay attention in Sunday school. That passion had always set you aside. And yet, it has also led you astray."

Then he did the same with her right arm, making sure to drag his sole on her mutilated limb with apathy.

"Holding to the remnants of your past. Hoping that they will keep you warm" he said, dropping the stained cloth on her pooling blood "I just can't understand why."

That got a grunt out of her.

"Why you would degrade yourself with these acts. Rubbing elbows with these... these animals. Their kind and their brutality are beneath us." He said while running a finger on his rosary "To reject this wonderful gift from the great Father, only someone impossibly immature could--"

"Shut the fuck up already" she spat, voice coarse and breathy.

The man simply sighed in response.

"Of course. You're still young. I often forget that" he lamented quietly "Children learn by imitation, not comprehension."

Then he signaled back to Silver's unconscious form.

"That child over there. You both act really similarly. Perhaps he was the one to influence you in this way?"

"Lay another finger on him..." she barked coldly, yet it did nothing to deter the pastor.

"And what?" He scoffed. Even though he couldn't express emotion, he sounded almost indignant "You are at the edge of your mortality, just like him. It would do you no good to continue your empty intimidations. After all..."

He turned around, giving her an uncaring glance as he walked back towards the boy.

"...You don't actually care what happens to him anyway, do you?"

"Go to hell."

The man knelt besides her sleeping companion, seemingly unfazed by the myriad of insults and threats that she continued to throw at him.

"You can stop pretending now" he stated matter-of-factly.

But that only fueled her anger further.

"You don't know fuck about me. Don't try to act like--"

"This rebellious phase of yours." He interrupted her "Pretending as if you can somehow change things back. As if you don't feel the hunger every time you hear their hearts beat. Clinging on to something that you're not anymore, and a me that never was. Trying so, so hard. When the only one you're fooling is yourself, Samantha. Stop pretending."

She bared her teeth at him. Bloodied gums and sharpened fangs gleamed under the dim light, being reflected into his unchanging pupils. Defiant, yet slightly wavering.

He sighed.

"I have now come to terms with the fact that I can't make you understand. It is simply not my place to do as a father should" he said, standing up with that same unapologetic attitude that crept into her very nerves "But it is in my hands to set an example."

"If you fucking dare--"

"Relax" the man ordered, sending a shockwave through her core with his voice "That would be counter-productive. This child... is still yet useful. Both of them are."

Her mind wandered back to Johnny, and her eye twitched slightly at the realization that she'd completely forgotten about him in her rampage.

Wherever he'd run off to, hopefully he had managed to escape. The kid was smart enough to know when to turn tail and run.

How ironic, that the same thing she'd criticized him for was the culmination of both his salvation and her damnation.

Now wasn't the time to be reminiscing about that, though. With any luck, the pastor would be oblivious to her thoughts on the matter.

"But this... thing you three do, playing with toys while thinking you're some sort of heroes" he interjected, calmly walking back to her for the last time "It must be put an end to. For your own good."

"Fuck you, pendejo de mierda."

"I no longer expect you to understand, as I said. It is not my duty to act as a father would" he said with a sigh, kneeling before her "But as the elder sibling, I must set a good example."

She was about to tell him to go fuck himself with that family bullshit, when a metallic object suddenly came in contact with the roof of her mouth.

The hammer of Silver's .50 caliber revolver clicked into place with a small sound as the pastor once again got to speak in her place.

"As such, please watch and learn as I provide the appropriate punishment for such behavior, in place of the Father."

The last thing she could do was throw him one final spiteful glance before his finger came in contact with the trigger.

Bang! The sound of the first bullet reverberated in her mouth.

Bang! The second one pulsated deeply within her veins.

Bang! The third echoed through her lungs.

Bang! The fourth rippled through her milky eyeballs.

Bang! The fifth rang far into the distance.

By the time she came to, what remained was only but the shattered pieces of the one person that she'd been desperately clinging to.'

OOC: But it's okay. She'll heal it off.

Dark OC Asks

Excluding murder, what is the worst thing your OC has ever done?

Has your OC ever killed someone?

Has your OC killed a friend/family member/loved one?

What appears in your OC's darkest nightmares?

What is your OC's moral code?

Would your OC make a deal with the devil?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

Would your OC consider themself evil?

Would you consider your OC evil?

Does your OC enjoy watching others suffer?

Has your OC ever tortured someone?

If your OC was arrested, what would the charges be?

Who does your OC hate the most?

What is your OC's "villain song"?

If you draw: draw your OC's darkest moment or reimagine your OC as a demon. If you don't draw: find a picrew or write a description instead!

#my stuff #my draws #oc #oc asks stuff #comes with a bonus little story inside

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mostly-comfort · 1 year ago

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i was a little shy and indecisive in my previous ask ^-^' whoops haha i had REALLY better make a decision or you'll be pushed for time more than you probablynalready are ^-^'

if there is still a slot available, could i please request a lil halloween doodle of my boi pete?

his profile is linked in his fic masterpost, shifting phases, which is linked in my masterpost over on my sideblog @emcscared-whumps

it has a few references included, but i can send more specific ones and answer any questions later on if you need (and in that case, how would you prefer to receive them? is tumblr dm okay?)

and then, could i also request some info and refs on your boi?

thankyouuuuu, have a happy halloween :)))

it's np!! i only have 2 spots filled so far, this'll be the third (i decided to have 5 spots total)

i read through his profile (love how detailed it is!), and i was wondering if he has regular teeth or not? ik some ppl like to give their mer/mer-like characters sharp teeth, or fangs sometimes

also, i noticed in one drawing, he has white streaks in his hair! is that later on or would you consider it to be part of his default appearance?

i realized u can't dm sideblogs, so i can message u with my main or keep using regular or private asks, whichever u prefer!

u just opened up pandora's box by asking me abt my sad boy [rubs hands together]

unfortunately i don't have any refs beyond what i drew, but he just has typical vampire traits (red eyes, claws, very pale, etc)

in my universe, vampires are more biologically plausible, so they have adaptations and they're mostly limited to what's natural. they aren't immortal, can't turn humans into vampires, etc. though it's not completely realistic, otherwise this story wouldn't exist lol

vampires can live to 1000 years. they're hardy, they can take injuries that would be fatal to a human (though they feel just as much pain), and are difficult to kill. yet that's exactly the problem for our unfortunate guy :)

hunters imprisoned and tortured him for over 300 years, never granting him the mercy of death. he's now merely a shell of who he once was, and he has no memory of his past or who he was (and honestly, i don't know either lmao)

as you may know, being tortured for centuries leaves irreparable trauma/mental damage, not only making him lose his memories but rendering him incapable of fending for himself. he can barely function, can hardly say anything other than apologies or pleas, etc. i think his brain has even lost significant mass (i have no idea if this is even possible but let's go with it lol)

in present day, he's out of there and with a caretaker, though i'll share more about that later, or if i ever get around to writing his story lmao

personality

he's perpetually nervous, which is the understatement of the century (ironic)

very conditioned, struggles to articulate sentences, or just thinking in general

obedient, quiet, timid ofc. as time goes on, he becomes curious, likes being in nature

extremely dedicated to caretaker, probably to the point of unhealthy codependency

appearance

longish, messy, black, wavy hair

red eyes, slit pupils (they can dilate like a cat's)

pale skin

wears a tracking collar

vampires rarely scar, unless the injury is repeated or severe enough. so of course he has a deep scar on his face from when the hunters forced him to wear a silver muzzle pretty much the whole time

also has scars around neck, wrists, and ankles from wearing silver cuffs/collar

scarred, crooked fingers

fun facts

he thinks of himself as an 'it' for a long time, even though caretaker doesn't think of him as such

his behavior is quite instinctive/creature-like. he scents, he likes climbing trees, sitting in the moonlight, bringing back leaves, twigs, feathers, etc

fuck it, vampires can purr. if u couldn't tell, i'm heavily inspired by cats lmao

when he learns to read again, he develops a liking for stories

has issues with feeding, tries his best to hide his fangs, really he just has problems with everything that makes him a vampire sadly

#ask #oc august #story: centuries

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amicidomenicani · 2 years ago

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Question Hello Father, My name is F., I am a 13-year-old boy, I will soon turn 14. I am a strong believer, and I wanted to ask a few questions. 1. I have a passion for video games and during the lockdown due to Covid-19, I connected online with my friends to play video games like Fortnite, an online shooter video game that has become famous recently, where you shoot at your opponents and whoever remains the last one alive wins the battle. At first, we spent about 2 hours in front of the screen every day, then I decreased the time by playing one hour a day every other day. (…). I was wondering if it was a sin to play such video games or if it was possible, perhaps also by limiting the hours of play, to play these games. 2. Now I ask you some questions of a different nature. This summer, attending the Summer Oratory and going out with some friends once the Oratory was over, and also with my classmates, I witnessed some blasphemies or obscene words that day after day began to resonate in my head, accompanied with blasphemous thoughts or profane images about Holy matters like the Blessed Sacrament, the Blessed Virgin Mary or the Saints; I try with all my heart to push away those bad thoughts when they come to my mind and I try to reject them as much as I can, because I absolutely don't want them in my thoughts, by striving to think about something else. Listening to some blasphemies from friends or relatives, I felt the need to atone for them, offering prayers of reparation and prayers of conversion for the person from whom I heard those blasphemous things. I ask you this: since I am a boy who strongly believes, I read the Holy Scriptures; until recently, I did it every day, while lately I skipped a few days every now and then. I would like to resume reading every day and I hope to be able to find the time, given that schools are reopening! As of today, I have been committed to trying to recite one Holy Rosary a day, and on Wednesday to recite the Holy Rosary to Saint Joseph. I ask your forgiveness for this email being written with some errors and for being very long winded. I hope to receive an answer as soon as possible and I ask you to pray for me. Thank you, Father, I send you a warm greeting. Pray for me. F. Answer from the priest Dear F. 1. I begin from the second part of your email, replying about the blasphemies and obscene words that you are forced to hear when going out with your friends. Unfortunately, these words wedge themselves into memory more than others because they touch our sensitivity more intimately. After some time, you still remember these words spoken by your friends, but you no longer remember the contents of the discussions you had. Not only do they remain in our memory, but they resonate within us even if we do not want to. So far, on your part, there is no sin because there is no consent. However, you see how easy it is for so many of your friends to slip and start talking in that way, driven by what they feel ringing inside their memory. 2. Instead, I am happy for you because not only do you not consent in any way to those words or intend to take up the way of speaking of your friends, but much more because you try to atone for them. If we love the Lord and if we remain saddened because he is once again crucified in the hearts of many (cf. Heb 6:6), we feel the need for ourselves to make amends and to pray for the conversion of those children. 3. In the apparition of July 13, 1917, Our Lady in Fatima, after showing hell to the three little shepherds, told them: “You have seen how poor sinners end up. Many go down to hell because there is no one who prays and no one who sacrifices for them.” Carlo Acutis, of whom you have certainly heard, after knowing about these words of Our Lady, with even more fervor began to recite the Holy Rosary every day. Keep doing this too for the rest of your life. Do not turn back from this intimate attitude, which is very pleasing to the Lord and draws to you many graces from Heaven.

4. I am also happy with your almost daily reading of the Holy Scriptures. When you pick up those texts it is as if the Lord were leading you into the desert and speaking to your heart, as he said through the prophet Hosea: “I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart” (Hos 2:16). You do not even know when doing this how many are the heavenly blessings that descend on you at that moment, and through you on many others. Keep doing so by listening every day to the most precious and brightest words you can hear, those of God. 5. I am also happy that you recite the Holy Rosary every day and that you dedicate it to St. Joseph on Wednesdays. I have already told you about the Rosary in what I wrote above. Now, however, I emphasize the preciousness of your devotion to St. Joseph. I do this by reporting the experience of St. Teresa of Avila, doctor of the Church: “I clearly saw that his help was always greater than what I could have hoped for. I do not remember until now that I have ever prayed to him for a grace without having immediately obtained it. And it is a wonder to remember the great favours the Lord has granted me and the dangers for soul and body from which he delivered me through the intercession of this blessed Saint” (Vita, chap. 6,6). 6. Later in your life you will understand even more the preciousness of the practices we talked about, and you will also understand that it was not simply a matter of good will on your part, but of singular graces that the Lord wanted to grant you. It is He who inspired you to do so. And it is He who moves you to open your heart to him to always fill it with his most sweet and enlightening presence. So, keep it up. 7. Regarding your first question, the video games with your friends during lockdown and even those you play now are nothing wrong. However, it is always necessary to limit oneself with regard to the time spent, so that the day is not all spent in that way, also making sure that one’s mind is not totally absorbed by them. We must also devote ourselves primarily to our duties of study, prayer, and attention to the needs of the family. I answer you today, 8 September 2021, the day dedicated to the Nativity of Mary. May the grace that descended on the world with the appearance of Our Lady abundantly descend on you today as well. I gladly pray for you, I bless you, and I wish you well. Father Angelo

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zodiakuroo · 4 years ago

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Love Thy Brother

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, dabi’s canononical dick piercings manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, manipulation, blackmail, spit, stepcest, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, mentioned breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege : 3

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: secured my spot in hell with this one for sure anyways touya-nii go brrrrr

part 2 here!

But he that hates his brother is in darkness, and walks in darkness, and knows not whither he goes, because that darkness hath blinded his eyes. – 1 John 2:11

Gaining 4 new siblings as a young adult is not something anyone expects, you think, but you’re grateful to have been accepted into Enji Todoroki’s family nonetheless.

Fuyumi was the big sister you always wanted, kind and nurturing, always happy to let you borrow her clothes and give you advice. You and Natsuo the closest in age. He was warm and friendly and while he teased you a lot it was never mean spirited, just the kind that was typical between siblings. Shoto was quiet in nature and though it took him more time than the rest to warm up to you, eventually you two became friends as well.

And there was Touya…..

Well, Dabi as he prefers to be called.

When you first met him, you were terrified, the shock of seeing him made you hide behind your mother instinctively. The Todoroki clan looked every bit the perfect suburban family except for Dabi. He had his hair dyed jet black, with seemingly more tattoos than clean skin. He had several cartilage piercings in his ears as well as three small studs in his nostril and a barbell through his eyebrow. He scoffed at your scared reaction, sticking out his tongue to show you the silver ball on its surface and sending a wink your way.

Admittedly, felt guilty for judging Dabi based on his appearance, but you would soon come to find that sometimes it’s better to trust your judgement.

At first, Dabi ignored you, acted as if you didn’t exist. And the times when he was forced to acknowledge your presence in his family he acted as though you were nothing more than a nuisance. You thought that you might have offended him somehow but Fuyumi assured you that Dabi was just like that and that you shouldn’t take it personally. “He just needs to get to know you.” She said.

She was wrong though. Dabi couldn’t stand you.

Everything about you infuriates him. Prancing around in those frumpy sweaters and modest skirts like anyone would bother to lewd you anyways. Lest they attempt, you wear that gold cross necklace everywhere you like a big old “PROPERTY OF JESUS” tag. Your insistence to say a prayer every time the family dog so much as farts. The way his entire family seems to be enamored by your church girl act. Perhaps what he hates most is the way you look at him, poor delinquent Dabi, like you’re so much better than him. Sanctimonious bitch.

Then he noticed how you were with Natsuo. How you would pout and whine when he teased you and sometimes, to everyone’s shock and amusement, banter back and forth with him. Let’s be clear here, he didn’t care about you. He cared about attention. You were giving too much of your attention to his younger brother and that just wouldn’t do.

Pretty soon, Touya was in on the teasing. He started out by making fun of you for being so conservative. Low-hanging fruit. You’ve heard it all before so it didn’t wrench much of a reaction for you but that just made him more determined. Sometimes it got downright mean, earning him a scolding from Fuyumi. Not that he would listen anyways

Then it got physical. It started innocently enough, Dabi would tug on your hair, snatch food out of your hands, kick you underneath the dinner table. Albeit childish, it was incredibly annoying. You would shriek and yell for him to cut it out and after finally getting the desired reaction from you, he became hungry for more.

So he started taking more risks. When you were in the kitchen alone Dabi would brush his hand under your skirt making you squeal. That progressed to him flicking up your skirt to catch a glimpse of your panties which progressed to him spanking you so hard, you’d think of him every time you sat down for the rest of the day.

On the days when he was in a good mood (read: stoned out of his mind), he would pull you into his lap and hold you there, blowing smoke in your face that made you cough so that he could laugh. Sometimes he would let his hands wander, over your chest and between your thighs while you squirm in his hold. He’d say “Anyone ever touch you like this? I hope not, I’m sure it would piss off Jesus”

As if the touching wasn’t invasive enough, Dabi felt he was entitled to your room and personal artifacts. Often you’d come back from campus or church to find the contents of your underwear drawer spilled on the floor. You would notice a pair or two missing when you packed them back.

One time he vandalised your bible with drawings of penises on every single page.

“D’ya like my artwork princess?” he said when you confronted him. In a fit of rage, threw the book at his head. You missed (unfortunately) making him like laugh. “Surely there’s something condemning violence in that book of yours.”

You tried locking him out of your room but all that did was make him angrier. He threated to break your door clean off its hinges if you did it again.

Which brings you to your current predicament.

It had been a long day. You woke up late landing you in trouble with your manager. Your coworker fell ill and you had to cover a double shift, with no shortage of asshole customers on this particular day it seems. On top of all that, you just got stood up for date. You come home to a quiet house and you’re so grateful for this small blessing on a day like this. After a long, scalding hot shower, you lie on your bed wrapped in a fluffy, white towel, contemplating your next move.

You were home alone and with a family this big that hardly ever happens. You do what any person would do after having the day you had.

You smile to yourself, undoing the knot on your towel and falling back onto your pillows, hands already caressing your breasts.

You’re a Christian not a robot. Of course you masturbate. Sure you feel ashamed. You can hear your mother’s voice chide about how sinful it is but that all melts away when your little fingers slide between your wet folds. Shame can wait.

Being the menace in your life that he is, the eldest Todoroki chose that exact moment to barge into your room unannounced.

You scramble for your covers trying your best to preserve some modesty but it’s too late, you’ve been caught. You shriek in terror.

“Oh my god!” Dabi practically cackles.

“Dabi! It’s not what it looks like I swear.”

“Oh really?” He stalks over to your bed with the predatory grin on his face. “Because to me it looks like my innocent, holier than though baby sister is a nasty, little, closet pervert.” He’s now straddling you over your covers, you want to fight him off but that would mean letting go over your duvet and you know once you do that, it’s over. Dabi has the upper hand though. Soon he’s got both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinned above your head. His other hand, almost immediately, is pulling the down the covers, revealing your naked torso to him. “Huh.’ He muses as he palms one of your breasts. “Seems like it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Dabi! Get off me!” You squirm under him but he’s too heavy so it’s no use.

“Nice tits Sis.” Dabi ignores your protests. “I don’t get why you keep them hidden.”

“I’m not your sister you creep!” you say with as much venom as you can muster.

“Aw princess,” he pouts and moves his hand up to cup your jaw, squeezing your cheeks harshly “it hurts your Nii-san’s feelings when you talk to him like that. I wonder what our parents would think. Should I tell them how filthy their sweet, little daughter really is?”

He revels in the fear in your eyes. You shake your head frantically. “No Dabi please! Please don’t tell them.” You whimper, words garbled.

“Don’t tell them what little sister? What were you doing?” He smirks. His hand goes back to your breast, this time to tweak your nipple.

The sadistic freak. Was he really going to make you say it? He answers your silent question with a sharp smack to your breast.

“I-I was masturbating.” You mumble, squeezing your eyes shut, cheeks burning from embarrassment.

“No, you weren’t” he says as a matter of fact before pinching your already stiff nipple making your eyes shoot open and you yelp in pain. “You were playing with your little virgin cunt. Now say it.”

There is no way you could say those words. Has he not humiliated you enough? You try once again to break free but he’s got an iron grip on your wrists and he’s sitting on top of your thighs. There’s no way you’re getting out of this.

He pinches you again but harder this time, twisting your nipple and keeping it there.

“I was ah I was playing with my v-v-irgin c- Dabi! Cunt! There I said it! Let go!”

He snickers at your pain but let’s go of you entirely, shifting his weight off of you. You’re grateful for the reprieve, immediately pulling up the covers to cover up your body again. You will yourself not to cry until Dabi has left the room or else you’ll never hear the end of it. But he’s not finished with you yet.

“Show me.” He sits down on your desk chair facing you, his legs spread wide.

“What?” Surely you misheard him.

“Show your Nii-san how you play with that ‘little virgin cunt’” He smiles using air quotations.

“Dabi, this is wrong-“ you whimper

“Touya-nii.” You furrow your brows in confusion and he says again. “Call me Touya-nii. I’m not leaving this room until I see what I want.”

Say what you want about Dabi but he’s a man of his word. You know he means what he says. The last thing you want is for anyone in your family to come home and find you naked in your room with your step-brother. It’s just better to do what he asks demands.

You slowly peel the covers off you, exposing your naked body to your step brother. He’s eyeing you intently, palming the growing bulge under his jeans. His sister was hiding such a hot little body, right under his roof and he had no idea. You can’t bear to look at him. You clamp your thighs shut to hide your pussy from him, a weak attempt to save what’s left of your dignity. You wriggle your hand in between your legs and you try to move it as best you can without showing him more of you.

Wait.

You’re wet?

You’re wet.

Well screw dignity I guess.

“Oh none of that.” Touya scoffs. “Spread your legs.”

You obey him and he rewards you with a low whistle. “What a cute little pussy.” He murmurs so low you’re not even sure he’s talking to you. You flinch, wanting to close your legs on instinct but a firm “Don’t” from Dabi stops you in your tracks. “Show me how my little sister likes to play.”

His words make your pussy throb but you’re still reeling, both physically and mentally at, the shock from your current position so when your fingers try to rub circles on your clit, they’re shaky and sloppy.

“That’s pathetic. Is this how you do it? No wonder you’re so uptight, you probably never cum huh? Put your fingers inside, I wanna see you stretch your little hole.”

“Dabi I-“

“I won’t ask you to address me properly again. Next time, you’re getting your ass beat.”

“T-Touya-nii. I’ve never… put them inside.” You mumble.

“Never?” He can’t hide the amusement in his voice.

You simply shake your head, unable to meet his gaze.

Fucking jackpot. He thinks. This is why he loves virgins.

“Oh no. Does the poor baby want her Nii-san to show her how it’s done?” voice dripping with condescension.

You’re horribly ashamed. Disgusted by the whole situation. And yet you find yourself nodding.

Dabi crawls on to your bed, discarding his shirt in the process. Next thing he has you flipped over, ass in the air, lying across his lap.

He spanks you, hard. Like he always does, loud smack echoing through the room. You cry out like you always do but it’s different this time. It’s different because this time you’re naked, on top of him. It’s different because you can feel his hard-on poking into your stomach. It’s different because everything about the situation is making you clench.

He grips the sore, reddened flesh and pulls apart your cheeks to look right at your fluttering hole. His thumb finds your clit and he starts to rub slow circles into it. “I meant what said you know. This is the prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen.” You let out a whine as you feel his warm, wet spit land right on your opening, before Touya slides a long, slender middle finger into your tight pussy. He uses his other hand to hit you again. “You’re a good girl right? What do good girl’s say when they get compliments?”

Your head is spinning from his ministrations, so much so that a verbal response escapes you. You’re too busy bucking your hips against his hand. Dabi snaps you out of your trance with another spank, even harder, so your feel the sting spread across your glute. “Hnnghh… thank you Touya-nii.” He rewards you with his ring finger finding its way inside you as well. “Shit.” You say through gritted teeth. You clench around him trying to adjust to the foreign sensation.

Whack. This time on the other cheek, both burning red by now, you’re sure. “Where’d you learn to talk like that, naughty girl?” The way he’s moving his fingers inside you feels like he’s looking for something, you have no idea what. It’s not unpleasant but uncomfortable. You turn your head back to look at his face. It’s the same face he makes when he’s rolling a joint or playing video games with his friends. He’s concentrating. “Fuck, relax for me princess.” You’re trying. You’re really trying. You take a deep breath, trying to think about anything other than the way you’re being stretched.

Then it hits you. An overwhelming ecstasy, spreading from your groin, all the way down to your toes. You figure out that’s what he’s been looking for.

You find yourself grinding down onto his bulge in an attempt to escape the onslaught of his fingers, but it’s no use, not with the way his thumb is circling your throbbing clit.

“Can’t even take two fingers in this tiny pussy huh? How are you gonna take my cock?” Dabi gives you a third finger and the stretch is officially unbearable.

You can’t do anything but pant in his lap while he holds you down, making sure that you keep still. Suddenly, you realise the gravity of the circumstances you find yourself in. Your step brother is going to fuck you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“God, please slow down!” You cry out. He keeps hitting that spot over and over. It’s too much. You look back at him with tears in your eyes, pleading for reprieve. The satisfied smile on his face lets you know that he couldn’t care less. You feel an orgasm building, stronger than any that you’ve given yourself.

“No God here, doll. Just the Almighty Dabi. And guess what? He wants you to come for him.”

Even before he finishes his sentence, you’re already convulsing on top of him. For a moment you forget how debauched the situation is. Being debased by a man who you not only despise but are related to. All feelings of shame are replaced by pure, hot bliss that sets your nerves on fire. Dabi does not relent. Not until the please you feel is eclipsed by the pain of oversensitivity and you’re writhing in futile attempt to escape.

Dabi pulls his fingers out of you and wraps his other hand around your neck, dragging you up to face him. He holds his fingers, covered in your cream, right in front of your face. “Messy slut. Clean them.”

Before you can respond the fingers press against your lips. You have no choice but to take them inside your mouth. He grips the back of your head while you lave your tongue over his fingers, sucking off your release. He’s keeps a tension on your strands that makes your scalp sting. It’s a silent warning to keep your eyes on him. You’ve caught on by now that he wants this to be as humiliating as possible for you. As if coming on your step-brother’s fingers weren’t humiliating enough. He shoves his fingers deeper, making you gag around them drool seeping from the corner of your mouth.

“Good girl.” He growls as he wipes his saliva covered fingers dry on your face. Again, you fight back the tears of embarrassment. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Dabi prompts you with cruel tug on your hair. “Gah! Th-thank you Touya-nii.” You whimper.

“Hmm.” His hands move to your hips and he rolls his hips to grind his hard cock into your core. “You want Nii-san to fuck you now?”

Your bottom lip quivers. Is he giving you an out? You pray to God that Dabi is giving you a way out of this. You doubt God cares about what you want right now but still, you hope he can grant you this one mercy, you’ll make it up to him somehow. You shake your head no. You probably look so pitiful right now, naked on top of Touya while he bucks up against you, your own spit streaked across your face, barely stopping the tears in your eyes from spilling.

“Liar.” He sneers. “You want your big brother to split that virgin hole right open.”

You’re stupid for thinking he would give you a way out. You realise that now. No point in trying not to cry. Nothing is gonna stop him from getting what he wants anyway. You can’t hold back the choked sobs anymore

“Such pretty tears, baby.” Dabi coos at you. “Don’t worry. Nii-san is gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He picks you up off of him and positions you exactly how he wants, on all fours, swollen cunt exposed for him. He kneels behind you and you hear the sounds of him undoing his jeans. You turn your head back, curiosity getting the better of you. Your eyes find Dabi just in time to see him free himself from his boxers, which join his jeans bunched at is knees. The sight makes your eyes go wide. It’s your first time seeing one in real life. Were they supposed to be that big? And… pierced?

He quirks a brow at you, smug look plastered on his face. He strokes himself in front of you, spreading his pre-cum along his shaft. He’s tilts it upwards to make sure you get a good look at the vertical barbell that goes through his tip and three horizontal, parallel bars along the underside. “You look scared. Don’t worry princess, Big brother Dabi’s gonna make it fit.” You feel his tip press against your opening and brace yourself.

You’ve heard stories from your friends. You know the first time hurts but God nothing could have prepared you for this .Touya makes good on his word, sliding his entirely until your pressed right against his pelvis. The scream you let out is ear shattering but you can’t help it, the stretch is excruciating. The way his piercings catch on your walls only, intensifies the burn. You crawl toward your headboard instinctively, it’s too much. Way too much.

He’s not having any of it. Dabi pulls you up to him with a hand wrapped around your throat until your back meets his front. “Shh shh shh. Don’t run baby. You’re gonna take all of it.” He groans right against your ear. Without giving you time to adjust, he begins to thrust into you at a relentless pace. You have no choice but to let him use you.

“Who’s fucking you huh? Who’s making you feel good?”

“My nii-san. Touya-nii is fucking me so good.”

“Yeah fuck. Love this holy pussy” He delivers a harsh smack directly on to your clit, making you quiver in his hold. He laughs at your reaction. “Gonna say a prayer for me babe? I wanna hear it.”

“Huh?” You’re barely lucid, there’s no way you heard him correctly.

“Well you’re a little sinner slut now. You should probably ask for forgiveness. Pray.”

You’re sure you’re beyond salvation now but you submit nonetheless. “Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love; according to Your great compassion.” You gasp as he tightens his hand around your throat. “Against You, have I sinned and done what is evil in Your sight. Oh fuck Touya-nii!”

“Bad girl.” Dabi gives you another strike right on your aching clit. “Don’t think God is gonna be very happy with you.” Dabi is though. Dabi’s very happy with you. Your tight, gummy pussy sucks him back in every time he pulls back. It just makes him fuck you harder, he wants to make you scream louder for him.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Ngggghh Shit. Do not cast me from Your presence or take Your Holy Spirit from me.” You’re sobbing outright, gasping to get air into your constricted throat.

“You gonna cum? My bad girl gonna come for her big brother?” Dabi grunts into your ear.

“Yeah close Touya-nii.”

“Hmm me too.”

“NOT INSIDE TOUYA-NII” You begin to thrash in his arms.

“S’matter princess? Don’t wanna have your big brother’s babies? That’s hurtful.” He snickers. He releases your throat in favour of pressing you into the mattress, large hand resting between your shoulder blades. “Better cum before I do then.”

The ridges of his piercings rub up against that same sweet spot, over and over again. You’re dizzy from the lack of air and absolutely drunk with pleasure on his cock. Pretty much the only thing tethering you to this existence is the unforgiving grip he has on your ass, digging his nails into your flesh. He reaches his hand around to rub your sore, puffy clit. It pushes you over the edge a second time. You feel every muscle contract and relax as the waves of your orgasm wash over you, making you cry out in bliss.

As soon as you come down from your high, Dabi has you flipped on to your back and is straddling your torso. “Keep praying.” He mutters. He furrows his brows, huffing as he jerks off on top of you, eyes focused intently on your gold necklace.

“Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me. Then will I teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners will turn back to You. Amen”

“Yeah, fuck that’s it take it baby.” Dabi sprays his come over your chest, aiming his load right on your cross, a symbol of your devotion to Christ, defiled. He looks absolutely euphoric watching the ropes of his hot cum slowly run down onto your nipples and down the valley of your breasts

“Don’t you fucking move.” He pants, catching his breath. He picks up his phone and you hear his camera click. He looks at the picture and smiles. You look absolutely fucked out. Hair disheveled, face red and bloated from crying and completely covered in his load. Yeah a real good, Christian girl. He thinks.

“Dabi! No!” You lunge forward, trying to grab his phone from his hand. Almost effortlessly, Touya shoves you back onto the bed.

“Relax. No one’s gonna see it. Not unless you snitch to mommy and daddy.”

“You promise?” You grab the tissues from your nightstand and wipe yourself clean. The smell lingers though, along with the grimy feeling, seemingly embedded in your skin. You look up at him, sniffling, tears still rolling down your cheeks. If he were better person, he’d take pity on you for being so fucking stupid.

“Promise, little sis.” He shoots you a wink as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

Before he’s left your room he’s already sent the picture to his friend, Shigaraki.

2K notes · View notes

seungs1ks · 3 years ago

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omg ty that was amazing, can u do a part 2 of ruin u, chan fucking you pleaseeeee

i'm glad you liked it! sorry for the wait and i hope you enjoy this one :)

wreck you. (h.c.) || read “ruin you.” here

{SMUT. 18+}

pairing: heo chan x fem! reader

warnings: dom!chan, swearing, dumbification, overstimulation, light bondage, slight degradation, dirty talk, squirting, facial

word count: 1.2k

Chan was hell bent on fucking you stupid.

He had you ass up, face planted into the mattress, hands behind your back with wrists bound together by his black leather belt -- your favorite one. His large hands were probably leaving red prints on your ass from the way they were grabbing you. Chan rutted into you like he hadn’t fucked you for months. The sound of skin slapping against skin could barely drown out your muffled whimpers.

“That’s right, slut, take my cock like I know you can,” Chan growled, landing one harsh smack onto your ass, loving the way you cried out against the sheets. “Does it feel good, baby? Does it feel good to be split open on this cock?”

“Mmmgghhh yes sir,” you slurred, fucked out beyond comprehension. You were drooling onto the sheets and your stinging cheeks were sticky from tears that Chan had coaxed out of you from making you cum again and again.

He roughly used his knees to force your legs open wider before gripping your hands that were tied behind your back. Using them as leverage, Chan leaned back and fucked you with quick, shallow thrusts, relentlessly drumming against that perfect spot inside you that made you scream. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, fucked completely dumb. You could only let out a weak moan as the new sensation made you cum in mere seconds, wetness spurting out of your pussy as Chan fucked you through it.

“Dumb baby,” he chuckled. “Ruining our new sheets.” He admired the growing puddle below you, then groaned. “Fuck, baby, you’re still going?”

You nodded as best you could, knowing that no matter what, Chan wanted you to answer whenever he asked you a question. “Can’t stop… cumming…sir…” you rasped, body trembling, the feeling of a seemingly never-ending orgasm having you on the edge of passing out.

He moaned in response, hips slowing down in their movements. “Such a good girl,” Chan praised you, spanking your ass once, twice. “So fucking good for me.” His hips stilled, then he pulled out of you, keeping his hands on your bound wrists, holding you still as you continued to twitch and spasm. Leaning over your body, Chan yanked you up by your hair so that your back was flush against his chest, and his lips were against the shell of your ear.

“You’re limp like a doll, princess,” he mumbled, his low voice sending shivers down your spine. “Is my little slut having fun?” His free hand travelled down your body, groping your breasts and grazing your stomach before arriving at your swollen, dripping core. He ran one finger between your slick folds and you whined pathetically, sensitive beyond belief. If not for Chan holding you up you would’ve collapsed onto the bed.

“Aw, so sensitive still, huh?” Chan cooed at you. He kept on rubbing your pussy, drawing lazy circles around your clit, relishing the obscene sounds of how drenched you were. “God,” he said through gritted teeth. He gently nipped at the shell of your ear, then kissed it. “This is all mine, isn’t it, baby?” You nodded frantically. Chan’s fingers continued their movements, easily sliding into your hole, where they curled inside you and brought you to the edge of cumming once again.

“Sir…p--please,” you sobbed, the overstimulation unlike anything you’d felt before. You weren’t sure what you were pleading him about. You couldn’t even think.

“Shh,” Chan soothed you. “Be a good girl.” His hand let go of your hair and wrapped around your neck, where he applied light pressure. You loved the feeling of Chan’s hand engulfing your throat and cutting off just the right amount of air. You felt him shift and adjust his position behind you, only for your eyes to widen at the sensation of the head of his cock rubbing against your folds. He slowly pushed himself in and stopped at the tip. He fucked you just like that, only with the head of his cock, slowly and deliciously.

“Oh my fucking god,” Chan moaned loudly, and your eyes fluttered behind their lids when you heard him. He was indulging in himself now, losing himself in pleasure, and there was no better sound in the world than Chan moaning and letting you know how good he felt without holding back. “So fucking good, and all mine, fuck,” he continued, his cock going between thrusting in and out of you and rubbing your folds. “Wanna be buried inside this pussy forever,” he emphasized the sentence by tightening his hold on your throat.

“Ahh, sir,” you choked out when the tip of his cock bumped against your throbbing clit. Chan smirked and lightly bit down on the shell of your ear.

“Right here, baby? Like that?” He breathed, fucking into the same spot, his cock grazing your folds and nudging your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, coming undone for the upteenth time that night, clenching around nothing and dripping wetness onto Chan’s cock.

Chan relaxed his grip on your throat and let you catch your breath. He kissed your cheek, surprising you with his tenderness. He undid the belt around your wrists and threw it somewhere onto the floor.

“On your back,” he instructed and released you from his hold. You wobbled, almost falling over from how jelly-like your entire body felt. You did as you were told and lay down on your back. Chan hovered over you, his perfect face finally coming into view, and your hands immediately went to cup it. He smiled softly, his deep dimple threatening to appear.

“Good girl,” he mumbled. He brought his hands to yours and took them away from his face. He laced his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head. “Since you’re such a good girl, I’ll let you decide. Where do you want me to cum?”

You swallowed hard. “Wherever you like, sir,” you answered weakly. “I’m just your cocksleeve, so you choose.”

Chan’s eyes darkened at your response, and he licked his lips. “Good,” he uttered. “I’m going to cum all over that pretty face.”

Without saying another word, he moved so that he was on his knees over you, his cock positioned perfectly above your face. He looked at you expectantly, and you immediately took him into your mouth and hands.

“Yesssssss, baby, just like that,” Chan groaned, never taking his eyes off how your lips wrapped around his cock, your hands pumping whatever your mouth couldn’t take. Your eyes stayed fixed on his, knowing how much he loved it when you looked at him.

When he started to thrust into your mouth you knew he was close. He firmly yanked his cock out of your mouth and jerked himself off, moaning your name as he shot ropes of cum all over your face and waiting tongue.

He panted, catching his breath, and your adorable boyfriend Chan was back. He smiled widely, eyes becoming half-moons, watching in adoration and fascination as you swallowed the cum that had landed on your tongue.

“Wait here, gorgeous,” Chan said before getting off the bed and running to the bathroom to get a towel for you. He came back and helped clean you up. You couldn’t help but giggle at his cute pouting face as he focused.

Chan lay beside you and pulled you into a strong embrace. Both of you just stayed in blissful silence for a while, listening to each other’s breathing. As you felt him press a kiss to your forehead, you smiled to yourself as your mind began coming up with a devious plan to wake him up the next morning.

#victon smut #victon x reader #chan x reader #heo chan x reader #heo chan smut #victon scenarios #heo chan scenarios #chan scenarios #kpop smut #victon imagines #chan smut #heo chan imagines

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

Text

Apples the Pink Bunny

Did someone ask for this?

No.

Did I have an anxiety/emotionally overloaded evening?

Yes.

For this reason I am awake at 2:44 am on a school night to write myself a 13 page comfort fic. So, enjoy or don’t enjoy, but here’s Legend being a soft bunny with the chain for 6,268 words.

(Inspired by this and this.)

There is a bunny on the edge of camp.

It crouches in the shadows, eyes glinting gold and red in the firelight, nose twitching as it watches them.

Wind watches it back.

He doesn’t think that the others have seen t, no one’s said anything, and they all know how Warriors hates rabbits. So, he doesn’t say anything, not to them, he only wanders around the camp casually before settling down close-ish to where the bunny hides.

There aren’t many wild animals in his Hyrule, aren’t many animals at all, but Four’s taught him how to convey that he’s friendly to the minish and some of the forest life, so he tries to employ that knowledge now. He doesn’t look the rabbit directly in the eye, but he does force his ears forwards towards it, letting them flick away here and again, fingers rubbing softly as he glances casually as velvety pink paws.

He waits until he can see the rabbit watching him before he begins to whisper soft and quiet. “Hello, hello there lil’ guy.”

There’s a huff from the bunny, but it takes a single agonizingly slow step forwards, body stretched out and nose twitching as it watches him, ears pricked up curiously. When Wind doesn’t do anything different, just keeps speaking low and soft, the bunny lops its way over, ears up and attentive as it stops beside him, eyes turned up to stare into his own with a surprising amount of boldness for a creature close enough for him to smash in one blow.

“Hello.” Wind murmurs softly, moving slowly as he raises his hand over the rabbit, only to find himself starting as the bunny simply stares at him with the most unimpressed expression on it’s fuzzy face. Even Wolfie, who is strangely intelligent even for a dog, or so he’s heard has never looked so unimpressed with something, and the sailor finds himself lowering his hand sheepishly as if scolded, meeting the rabbit’s eyes and starting when it doesn’t flinch away, instead watching him intently with shivering nose and twitching ears.

“Hey Wind, watcha got there?” The rancher calls over, drawing the attention of the rest of the camp and making the sailor’s heart race.

The bunny’s going to be startled! It’s going to run away! All that work to get it to come over and he won’t even get to touch it!

But the rabbit doesn’t move, or rather, it doesn’t bolt away. Soft lavender eyes stare across the camp, unusual in their shade but lovely to gaze into as Wind finds himself transfixed with watching the silky sheen of the petal-pink fur and the glimmer of stars in lavender and golden eyes.

“Wind?” The rancher’s voice rings with concern, and the sailor snaps bac to attention, a warm smile easily falling over his face as he turns to the camp. “It’s a rabbit.” He says quietly, careful not to startle the beast. “Twi, do you think it’ll let me pet it?”

The rancher’s brows furrow as he looks over, markings shifting with the rest of his face as he stares at the rabbit warily.

To their surprise, and apparently the rabbit’s too, the tiny animal freezes in place for all of a second only to have the slight tilt of Twilight’s head sending it diving into Wind’s lap, startling the sailor enough for his to blink in surprise, but not so badly that his hands don’t instantly bury themselves in the pink fur.

And oh! It’s softer than he thought it would be! It’s nothing like Wolfie’s rough pelt or the feathers on Wild’s winter gear. The bunny’s fur is like fine down, or maybe silk, or- He runs his hands through it again, eyes widening with every stroke as the rodent shivers in his lap, eyes fixed on Twilight and ears pressed low as he huddles in the space left between the sailor’s legs as he sits criss-cross on the ground.

“I guess that’s a yes.” Twilight chuckles, low and deep. It’s a sound that makes warmth flow through Wind’s chest, but the rabbit only shivers, huddling lower the longer Twilight’s gaze rests on it.

“I think you’re scaring him.” The sailor hums softly, gently pulling the rabbit into his arms with an ease that comes from years of cradling his baby sister when she was small. The rabbit nestles close, eyes still on Twilight as it seems to shake itself, bt its doesn’t struggle against him, and Wind takes that as his cue to pull himself gently to his feet and cross the camp towards where Time and Wild sit playing a card game.

The champion is explaining the rules for the nth time as Time chuckles low and soft, purposefully asking questions that Wild’s already answered and earning pointed stares in return. The sailor’s approach lands just as Wild looks instants from pulling out his hair, and instantly cornflower blues are locking onto him with a strained smile, the champion apparently desperate to escape the game he’d asked for in the first place. “Hey, Wind, watcha have there.”

“A rabbit.” He replies, moving one arm to let lavender eyes peek out and stare at the champion, who’s eyes fall open in awe as his cards spill from his hands.

“It’s...you’re...” Wild’s eyes sparkle with awe as he looks from Wind to the rabbit in his arms. “How did you catch it?”

The rabbit shuffles closer to Wind’s chest as the words are spoken, and the sailor has to settle a hand on it’s back to calm it again as it edges away from the cook’s glimemring eyes.

“It was on the edge of camp.” Caution leaks into the pirate-hero's voice as he scrunches up his nose. “You better not ask if you can cook it.”

Blue eyes shoot wide as Wild shakes his head violently, earning a soft laugh from Time as his apparent orrer at the idea. “No! It’s-” Wild’s fingers twitch. “I couldn’t- Can I hold it?” The second-youngest's eyes travel up to stare up into Time’s leadingly, wide and innocent and so terribly like Aryll’s face when she’s asking Granny for another bowl of soup or piece of bread that Wind can’t help but giggle as he gently scritches the rabbit’s ears.

“That’s up to Wind.” Time answers gently. “But I don’t see why not.”

Softly glowing blue turns to meet his own as Wild stare up, pleading, at him. “May I?”

“Sure” He giggles, crouching low in front of the champion. “Have you ever held a baby?” Wild’s brow furrows, considering for a moment before shaking his head. “Okay, how about a kitten? A pup?”

The champion only shakes his head, and Wind finds himself frowning as he looks first at the bunny in his arms and then up at Wild, who’s face is quickly falling to one of disappointment.

“Here,” Time offers, gently arranging Wild’s arms properly. “It’s like this.”

Between the two of them, they get the bunny situated in Wild’s thin arms, and within seconds the champion’s free hand is dragging through plush fur as awe shines across his face, Time and Wind both laughing fondly as they watch and occasionally reaching out themselves to scritch the rabbit’s long ears.

Between them, there are eight heroes, and as of late, a rabbit has joined the mix, slung easily in Sky’s sailcloth as they travel.

The creature didn’t seem keen on leaving, and while it’s in no way fond of Twilight, the others find that they can’t resist sneaking to the back of the group to gently scritch it’s ears, or laugh as it hops about exploring the land around them when they stop for a break.

The Hyrule they’re in isn’t one that anyone recognizes, the forests strangely rich and the land both better kept than Wild’s while still more wild than the others. Fights in this world are intense, and only their two wanderers seem to be able to battle the insane variety and numbers of monsters with anything resembling ease.

It’s strange too, having to hide the rabbit whenever battle comes, but the creature is smart, darting away when battles come, a scowl in its fuzzy face as it burrows beneath tree roots or into the brush, waiting until the battle is over to re-emerge, hopping slowly across the blood soaked ground without trepidation, not once blinking at the blood and grit that gets in its fur as it hops from one hero to the other, eyes flickering between violet and lavender as it analyzes them, chirring angrily at any of them when they try to hide wounds, and nestling in the laps of the younger hero’s with a put upon look when Warrior’s has to stitch something up.

...

“He needs a name.” Wind declares after the second battle, his good hand petting the rabbit’s long ears while Sky helps to wrap the sprain in his wrist.

“Isn’t bunny enough?” Warriors eyes the rabbit disdainfully. “You didn’t give the wolf anything fancy.”

“He’s not just a bunny though!” Wind protests with a well-placed pout. “He’s our bunny-friend!”

“And the wolf isn’t your wolf-friend?” Twilight cocks a brow, something like hurt flashing through his eyes before he actually winces, hissing softly as Warriors continues to stitch him up.

“The wolf comes and goes. Besides, he’s a wild thing, so it’d be wrong to name him like a common dog.” Wind explains, shrugging lightly but stopping when Sky pushes his shoulder back down with a whispered reprimand for moving. “The bunny stays with us though,” Wind continues, holding still this time save for the hand that continues along the bunny’s pelt. “He needs a real name.”

“Agreed.” Wild sounds, shuffling over with a leafy vegetable in his hands that their rabbit friend takes with a pleased chirr, glancing up at the champion appreciatively before setting his sharp teeth to the plant, earning a smile from the champion.

“Any ideas?” Time starts, glancing around camp and earning a flick on the ear from Hyrule, who’s still trying to clean a wound on the man’s face.

“Seriously Time?” Warriors protests, but it’s too late, the others are already musing quietly and beginning to consider ideas.

“Petal?” Sky tries, glancing down at the rabbit in Wind’s arms. “Like, cherry blossom petals?”

“Cherry!” Wild gasps, eyes glimmering hopefully.

“Pinky.” Warriors snorts distastefully, earning an angry chitter from the rabbit, but the captain only glares back at the animal, as if it had just insulted him, mimicking the chitter pathetically and drawing laughs from the others.

“It’s a boy, right?” Twilight questions, cocking a brow, and the others exchange looks. “I think so? I’m not sure I want to check....”

“Nothing too feminine then.” Sky nods slowly.

“Floor.” Four suggests solemnly. “Floof the Poof.”

Eight sets of eyes, including the rabbits, turn to stare at the smithy disbelievingly. Red glimmers in his eyes for all of a second before he starts and flushes. “Sorry,” The smith rubs at his neck nervously, red blooming over his face and down his neck. “I was thinking aloud, Intrusive thoughts, you know?”

“What about Apple, for apple-blossom?” Time speaks slowly, eyes still on the smithy as he speaks, concern but fondness in his eyes.

The rabbit in Wind’s lap looks up, staring at Time and munching in a way that almost looks considering, violet eyes fixed on the eldest hero’s single one, the two locking gazes, neither blinking until Warriors sighs and snaps his fingers, startling them both.

“Aaaand, that’s a yes for Apples.” Warriors rolls his eyes. “No angry chitter, no arguments against.” The captain’s gaze levels them all. “Unless anyone has any objections?”

“Nope!”

“I think it sound’s cute?” Sky chuckles, patting Wind’s arm to signal that he’s finished and scratching the newly named Apples behind the ears. The rabbit huffs in his rabbit way, but they've all grown too used to the grouchiness of the animal to do anything other than laugh at it.

...

Apples is a wonder, and they are so very happy to have him.

There is nothing so convincing to make Sky finally relax than to have a pink mess of fur barrel into his lap and force heavy eyes to close under the soothing feeling of fur on his fingers and a small warm body pressed against his own.

Sky’s restless sleep and eternal exhaustion ease with every night and Wind giggles as each evening after dinner the bunny climbs resolutely into Sky’s lap, glaring pointedly up at the Skyloftian until long fingers are dragging through his fur and crystal blue eyes are falling shut contently.

When Sky shoots awake at night, there's a rabbit there that presses tiny paws to his chest, dark eyes staring up into his face in the darkness as ears flick and a tiny nose twitch, worry in the rabbit's expression as Sky sighs, a light smile on his face as he raises a hand to run through long fur. “I’m good, Apples, it was just a dream.”

The rabbit always snorts, scowling lightly and buffeting Sky’s chest with its head, but the Skyloftian only chuckles lightly, wrapping the bunny in his arms and shifting to lie on his side, the rabbit held close as he fades back into sleep.

...

When Time broods, brows low and frown lines pulling at his features and aging him by decades, most of the others know not to disturb him. They let each other have their space and they never press. Wolfie will, at time, curl up at the old man’s feet or sit at his side, allowing callused fingers to run through his thick fur as Time sits and stares at the ground, mind a world away where none of them ever wish to see, if the pain and sorrow in his gaze is to be read properly.

Perhaps a rabbit cannot be expected to understand this law of privacy though, even if he is unusually intelligent.

Time’s hair falls into his face as he perches on a stone on the edge of camp, gaze fixed on Lake Hylia below them as his elbows rest on his knees, face downcast and frowning as pain glimmers in his single blue eye.

Apples, who had been stretching his legs after being carried in Sky’s arms during their traveling that day, pauses, ears flicking up and towards the old man, paws freezing just off the ground as he watches, nose twitching.

The heroes watch, Wind darting up worriedly as the bunny lops closer to Time, but he freezes when the pink ball of fur pulls himself up next to Time with surprising agility, head butting carefully against their leader’s armored thigh as a soft squeak break through the air. Time doesn’t stir, not at first, but then the rabbit settles next to him, one paw on the old man’s leg, eyes following Time’s down to Lake Hylia.

Scarred hands twitch before finally landing in silky pink, pulling through the long fur as tension bleeds from Time’s shoulders, a breathy sigh escaping their leader before a soft tune begins to drift through the air.

The rabbit gently settles down, head resting beside his paws as Apple allows Time to pet him slowly.

The others are to far to understand the words, but Time’s soft murmurs break the silence, Apple’s ears twitching while an intelligent bunny face stares up at the tear-streaked face of the hero of Time.

When Time rejoins the rest of them for dinner, it’s with Apples nestled in his arms, a sad sort of peace in the hero’s gaze as he settles down to join in the meal, never once releasing Apples while they eat and joke, and by the time the meal is finished, the pink bunny is soundly asleep in Time’s arms.

...

It’s Four that seems the most curious about their little friend, and while the rabbit doesn’t seem particularly playful, the smith will occasionally catch up the animal, laughing s Apples sighs in an almost reluctant manner, and carry him off into the woods near where they are.

The Minish love Apples, and Four himself delights in diving amidst the pink fur or the first time while the bunny looks at him in utter shock.

Air enough, it was unlikely that Apples had ever seen a Hylian shift into a Minish before. But at this size, Four can enjoy Apples’ fur far better than as a Hylian, and it’s delightful to lead the rabbit around, chattering lightly as Apples lops along behind him, ears pricked and nose shivering as they move through Minish towns and groves, exploring the tiniest nooks and crannies they can find and having all sors of adventures.

Of course, there are dangers to being smaller than a rabbit, and the first time a spider attacks them, freakishly big and easily big enough to rip off Four’s head, it’s Apples that darts to his rescue, chirping and scolding in his rabbit way as he thumps his feet and pins back his ears in a strange imitation of Wolfie’s growl.

The spider is in no ways eager to give up her prey, and Four finds that, despite killing monsters on the daily, he has to turn away in disgust as Apples tears the spider apart, eyes flashing with gold as the seemingly harmless pink rabbit unleashes mass destruction on not only the one spider, but also her sisters that emerge from the burrow beside them. Long legs and venomous maws stretch over the top of him, reaching out to grab the Minish Hero, only to have a rabbit dart over, teeth flashing and harsh chatters sounding as legs and bodies are torn asunder.

When the spiders stop emerging, the small patch of grass is full of the remains of spiders, and Apples is rubbing at his nose and sneezing softly, absolutely covered in the remains of the monstrous insects.

“Thank you...” Is all the smithy can breathe out as Apples’ eyes meet his own.

He’s replied to with a sneeze.

Four shifts back as soon as possible, carrying his bunny savior back to camp and carefully helping to clean the rabbits long fur, murmuring softly and thankfully all the while. And if he shares a but about his previous adventures, and Ezlo, who while being a hat shared some things in common with the grouchy rabbit, well, it’s not like Apples will be able to tell anyone!

...

It’s Wild that seems the most enraptured with their new little companion. Always asking the older hero’s questions as he sorts through his inventory, offering all sorts of foods and treats to the rabbit and cooing in delight each time something is accepted. No one knows what it is exactly what it is about watching Apples eat has Wild so happy, but there’s no denying that the easy grin that steals over his face is better than the solemn frown and sad thoughtfulness that takes over on occasion.

The first time they see Wild go into a memory, it’s Apples that catches their attention, the rabbit shrieking worriedly as he bumps against the champion’s still hand, concern filling his violet eyes as he stares up at the champion, paws raised to press against the hero’s stomach while ears and nose twitch and shiver worriedly.

Apples doesn’t even panic when Twilight steps over, although he does shrink back, wary as the rancher gently shakes Wild’s shoulder before sighing and sitting next to him. The rabbit mimics the motion, but on the other side, eyes flicking from Twilight to Wild with nervous concern and wariness, but when neither move he contents himself with gently rubbing against the champion’s limp hand.

When Wild blinks awake again, eyes darting too and fro to take in his surrounds and breathing harsh, Apples jumps up, paws settling on the kid’s thigh and catching his attention, making the young hero still and stare. Tears well in cornflower blue eyes, and the rabbit doesn’t even sigh when Wild scoops him up, burying his face in Apples’ fur and sobbing quietly.

Were their hearts not aching for their brother, soft chuckles would have sounded around camp when Apples had freed a paw to gently pat the champion’s cheek.

...

After the first few weeks and a few more switches, Sky will come to find Apples every time that bedtime draws near, scooping the bunny out of the lap of another hero with a chipper “My turn now!” as he almost skips over to his bedroll, bundling both himself and his emotional support bunny into his sailcloth with a smile as Apples rolls his rabbit eyes and presses his paws to Sky’s own blue eyes, pushing them closed before settling against the Skyloftian’s chest. The Chosen Hero is always asleep within minutes, sleepily singing Zelda’s lullaby between snores as Apples’ violet eyes watch the rest of the camp.

When Time need space, the rabbit will follow, gently resting a paw on his leg and sitting with him, eyes filled with an understanding that is ridiculous in a rabbit, but somehow believable as Time’s callused fingers work through pink fur, songs and stories drifting from tired lips as long ears twitch ever so slightly to catch the words.

When Wind is playful, he’ll dart up and after the rabbit, who will always sigh in his rabbit way and either dart away or give chase, running the youngest hero ragged until Wind collapses, giggling and breathless, with Apples hopping up on his chest to bat at his face, as if to say “I win, I beat you, you lost so give me pets” and Wind does, eventually hauling himself up, and inevitably knocking Apples over before administering thankful ear scratches and pets until Apples springs free and continues going about his rabbit business.

Hyrule, though quiet, will often be found with the rabbit beside him, sometimes with Apple’s pushing his nose against the traveler’s hands and guiding them to better hold a knife while he’s carving, or a needle while he sews. It’s strange to see a bunny of all things unroll a bandage and offer it to the healor, but be it Hyrule or someone else that’s injured (provided it’s not Twilight) the rabbit will be springing over with his bunny brows furrowed as he scolds and fusses, nudging things over to Hyrule before the traveler can even ask someone for them, and climbing into bags and pulling out potions when the Hyrule’s healing glow begins to fade.

Sleeves are tugged at when the Traveler is exhausted, unreleased until Hyrule agrees to rest, and when they eat the bunny will chitter and fuss and kick up a riot until Hyrule will humbly ask for seconds or Wild will offer them, stern indigo eyes following the travel’s movements until his bowl or plate is empty.

When Wild is cooking, the rabbit will sit at his side, watching the process and chittering or nipping when the champion goes to add something dubious to the food, or begins to spice it too much for the younger ones to handle. Wild only ever laughs, offering bits and bobs of food as he works, and chuckling with delight when the bunny accepts them, Apple’s sharp teeth working away at leafy greens as stern violet eyes watch the young hero work.

And when memories strike, harsh and horrid and often sad, the bunny climbs his way into Wild’s lap and sits until the hero stirs again. Apples’ fur is drenched time and again with tears, and every time, without fail, tiny paws gently pat the Wild’s head, lavender in normally violet eyes as a tiny nose nuzzles against a reddened and drooping ear.

Four delights in exploring with Apples, and whether it be carrying the bunny off with him and chattering, or shrinking down and riding on Apples’ back, the two never fail to find something interesting to do.

Through all of it, Twilight will gaze sadly at the rabbit who avoids him like death, and Warriors will scoff and roll his eyes, although fondly, as the younger heroes all fuss over their new friend.

It’s only so much time before the captain breaks.

It’s a nightmare, blood and blades and shrieks of two little boys and many trusted friends echoing in the captain’s mind, making him start awake with tears in his eyes. Warriors shivers in the night air, drawing his scarf around his neck and wrapping himself in his arms as he moves towards the fire.

To his surprise, Apples sits before the flames as well, ears flicking towards the captain’s movements but gaze fixed on the flames with an almost sad air.

The captain merely snorts and dismissed the rabbit in his mind, but with ever second the world around him presses closer and Warriors becomes more and more agitated. And still, the rabbit doesn't move, doesn’t look at him, Apples only sighs deeply as he stares into the fire, and when Warriors shoots the rabbit a confused look he starts when he sees what looks to be tears in lavender eyes.

“You too huh?” Exhaustion loosens his tongue as he hunches before the fire, watching the flames dance. “Bad hunt? Lost mate?” The rabbit chitters something unintelligible, tiny body stiffening almost like Twilight’s does when he gets defensive. It draws a laugh from the captain’s throat, barking and bitter as his gaze rests on the burning remains of a log. “I feel you there, didn’t expect a rabbit to have trauma though.”

An unimpressed glare is leveled his way, this time drawing a genuine but startled laugh from the captain. “So it’s like that huh? Too tough to talk about it?”

One ear twitches Apples wrinkling his tiny nose before stomping one of his feet agitatedly and huffing a short and sharp little breath at the flames.

“I hear you.” Warriors laughs, a little broken and a little teary, eyes returning to the coals, shimmering with the ghosts of memories as screams echo in ears too used to their calls.

Apples twitches, hesitant, ears flickering and feet stomping grouchily for a moment, before Warriors finds himself with a lap full of rabbit as the pink bunny pushes his head into Warriors’ hand, nearly demanding to be pet.

“Oh,” Warriors scoffs, voice wet and harsh. “That’s how it is, huh? All your other Hylian’s are asleep, so because I’m awake from nightmares and goddess darned trauma, you figured I was available to pet you?”

Another insistent nudge, and Warriors is rolling his eyes, pushing his hands through long fur with a sigh.

It’s like silk, he muses to himself, blinking in surprise and running his hands through again. Like the finest of fabrics in the castle, like Artemis’ dresses that she wore when the war was over and they celebrated with dances and feasting and speeches of honor to the dead. Apples’ fur is like glinting red hair, oiled and brushed every night before bed. It’s like baby’s hair, impossibly soft and delicate.

There’s a small body curled in his lap, and Warriors’ hands run over it curiously, stroking impossibly soft fur as he becomes lost in the wonder of the color, in the texture. Screams and blood fly from his mind as the captain’s fingers trail through the fluff, and warmth floods trough his chest when he takes Apples’ face in his hands and rubs at the rabbits' cheeks, laughter bubbling in his chest, warm and bright as the bunny scowls up at him.

The next morning, when the heroes awake, its to find Sky shaking his head as he looks down at his usual sleeping companion held tight in Warriors’ arms, a blissful smile on the captain’s tearstained face. Apples scowls up at them, but he’s curled close to the man’s chest, with ample room to escape, and no one believes for a minute that he’s there against his will.

The jabs and eye rolls continue from both parties, but on long nights, when the others are asleep and rabbit and soldier both find themselves awake, Warriors will scoop the bunny into his lap, losing himself in Apples’ fur before drifting off again.

Wild has the pictures to prove it.

...

Twilight sulks the entire time, the sadness in his eyes turning into a full-blown pout as he tries time and again to win Apples’ affection, earning teasing from all parties, but especially Wars.

“I didn’t even want the thing, and he insists on climbing all over me!” The captain jests. “Yet you court him with more care than a knight with a lady he favors and he still rejects you!”

The rancher’s scowl and accompanying growl always sends Apples closer to whatever other hero is nearest, the rancher’s eyes narrowing as he huffs out retorts that go from being teasing to being genuinely hurt. The captain stops after a time, apologizing, but Twilight blows him off, excusing it as teasing while clearly looking hurt.

No matter what he tries though, food, cuddles, gentle words and careful movements, nothing will win the rabbit over, and when they again land in a world that none of them recognize, it’s too late to keep trying.

...

Ravio blinks down in surprise as the rabbit that sits in his living room. It’s raining wildly outside, and the animal is positively soaked, so he can hardly deny it access, but even so, it’s not every day that woodland creatures are entering the house.

…..Alright, not anymore. Not with Mr. Hero having gone missing.

Only Sheerow flies about the house, chirping and singing as he helps Ravio with the housework and keeps the merchant comfortable, and while he doesn’t ind in the least being with only his bird friend, he does rather miss the constant presence of birds outside the windows and deer wandering in from the forest to graze in the front yard. Mr. Hero never minded them, claiming that the beasts kept the grass short, but Ravio knows his friend, and he’s seen Mr. Hero dozing while surrounded by woodland creature enough times to know that the affection the animals feel for his friend is mutual.

Even so, Mr. Hero isn’t here, so there really shouldn’t be any forest creatures flocking into his house, especially not one that’s going through his things.

“Hey! Stop!” The merchant protests, darting forwards and scooping up the creature in his arms, only to be met with familiar violet and golden eyes staring back at him. “Mr....Hero?”

The bunny squeaks something that sounds like it might be in the affirmative, and Ravio stares.

“How did you...” He’s leveled with an unimpressed stare that is all he needs to see to know for sure it’s his friend. “Were you cursed?”

There’s a firm nod in return, and concern bubbles in his heart as the merchant holds his friend a bit tighter. “Can you reverse it?”

Violet eyes roll, but Mr. Hero isn’t panicking, and he even points towards the chest in the corner where he keeps most of his adventuring things, which itself is enough reassurance that one of his many items (some of which are Ravio’s own handiwork) will do the trick to turn him back.

“Oh good.” Ravio sighs, sagging in place and taking In his friend properly. Again, Mr. Rabbit Hero points at the chest, and he’s getting the idea that his friend wants him to let him go so he can change back but...

Soft fur rubs at his fingers and the feeling of a small body held in his hands is just so pleasant!

“One minute, please? Just one?” He pleads, turning on all the power he can as he aims a sorrowful look at his friend. “Your fur is so soft and I- can't I pet you for just a little bit, before you change back?”

Mr. Bunny Hero sighs, but the huff and nod are easy to read and Ravio clutches his friend to his chest with a cheer. “Thank you Mr. Hero!”

...

“Apples? Apples?” Wind’s voice is breaking by now as he calls out into the underbrush. The last switch had them all separated, and while the heroes have successfully regrouped, they’ve failed to be able to locate their fuzzy ninth member.

“He’s got to be here somewhere!” Wild whispers, scratching at his scars worriedly and prompting his mentor to gently push his hands back down again, it does no good, the habit that died with fur to play with reappears in its absence, and Twilight’s pelt is too cumbersome and heavy to be carried and stroked while they walk.

“Apples?” Sky chokes out, staring at the path before them, but nothing can be seen except a lone traveler who stalks along stiffly towards them.

“We’ll ask this traveler.” Time sighs, eyes heavy with worry as he pushes to the front of the group, raising a hand in greeting. “Ho there.”

“Ho.” The traveler returns, sharp violet eyes staring at them all from under pink and rose-gold bangs that peek out from beneath a blue cap. “What brings fighters like you into these parts?”

“we’re looking for a rabbit.” The captain says, taking no consideration for how ridiculous he sounds. “Normal size, but as pink as a cherry tree, you can’t miss him.”

Hopeful gazes turn to the stranger, who’s gaze darts away for a brief moment. “Sounds like my boarder’s pet.” There’s a strain to the man’s- or is he a boy?- voice as he speaks. “He disagreed a few months back and only came back yesterday. His-His owner was delighted.” The stranger speaks slowly, flushing slightly as he meets their eyes with an awkward attempt at a smile.

“He...he already had a family?” Wind and Wild both droop, and the other’s all sigh in collective disappointment as the stranger shifts before them, the light catching in the hilt of the sword on his back.

“Yeah... Sorry if you got attached.” The stranger winces, incredibly awkward as his eyes dart over them all, as if desperate to find anything else to talk about. “Why so heavily armed, just to look for a bunny?”

“Monsters.” Sky answers softly, eyes downturned as he twists his cloth in his fingers.

“Aren’t those for heroes and soldiers to bother with? Not common folk?”

“We aren’t exactly common.” Time explains. “Monster fighting is sort of our job.”

“Uh huh.” The stranger shifts back on his heels. “Last I checked, the only person the royal family was hiring to get rid of monsters was me, and I don’t recall hearing any changes about that recently.”

“Why you?” Wild tilts his head to one side, curiosity mingling with his sadness as he takes in the stranger.

“Hero’s duty.” The other drawls,, scowling slightly as his nose scrunches up, wiggling the tiniest bit in distaste.

“You’re a hero?” Warriors deadpanned, disbelief tainting his voice as he looked from pegasus boot clad feet up to red and green tunics, fluffy golden hair and sharp violet eyes. Said eyes stared back with an intensity that was strangely familiar, irritation glinting in their depths.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

And just like that, the Hero of Legend joined their group.

...

BONUS

Twilight blinked down at the pink rabbit in front of him in shock. “Apples?”

Apples- Legend? -The pink bunny- shuffled his feet, ears twitching as violet eyes flickered from the rancher's blue eyes and back down to the ground. “Um...chances that this is kept a secret?”

Disbelief pained the Ordonian’s face. “Do you know how much they’ve missed you?”

“I was right there.”

“And you never told them?”

“Well, you never owned up to being Wolfie, not last time I checked!” The bunny hero shot back, nose shivering in frustration.

“They don’t need to know about that,” The rancher dismissed. “That sort of power isn’t something I feel comfortable sharing.”

“Well newsflash,” Legend scowled. “I didn’t either. And it’s not like I could change back to prove myself or something, I was cursed! Anyways, can you imagine how absolutely off the hook crazy I’d sound if I just waltzed up to you and said ‘hey I’m the Hero of Legend and I’m also the bunny that’s been with you for the last two months. was cursed but now I’m not, want me to join?’”

Twilight scowled. “Fine. Valid. One question first.”

“Deal.” Legend groaned.

“Why did you never let me pet you?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Violet blinked up at the rancher in confusion.

“Why did you never let me pet you.” Twilight repeated simply.

The veteran bunny stared up at him, blinking slowly. “You are a freaking wolf. Did you not notice? I may not have known it at the time, but do you think a rabbit can look at a wolf and go ‘hey look! New friend’?” At the wolf shifter’s silence, Legend scoffed. “Yeah. That’s why.”

“Okay, valid.” Twilight nodded. “But one last thing, why didn’t you never talk?”

“Cursed.” legend rolled his eyes. “The nature of this one is different, I’m just my soul's reflection, not an actual animal, there’s a difference, and it’s one I’d like to not have to worry about for much longer. Now, how do I change back?”

“Well,” The rancher offered a weak smile. “We’re gonna have to ask Sky for help.”

That night, rather than sitting by the fire until he drifted off, Sky settled down next to Legend, pulling the hero into his arms happily as the vet had put up token protests before snuggling against him. Sky hadn’t slept as well in months, and Twilight took no small amount of joy in being able to play with the vet’s silky hair all through his watch.

#bunny legend #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu time #lu twilight #lu wind #lu wild #lu warriors #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu four #lu ravio #bunny legend my beloved!#fluffics #cuz I'm sad so I love on Legend #defensive legend #idiot writes fluff #hugs legenda

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zero00o0 · 2 years ago

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Hello:) so first off wanted to say I loved part two of quiet! It was so well written and didn’t have a bad storyline and was very amazing on the gramatical side of things(no offense to some young writers😭) but I have three questions that I would like to give to you

1. Whats your favorite trope/situation to write versus to read

2. Whats your favorite duo to write/read (idk if you’ve been asked this before I’m not sure my memory sucks LMAOO💀🙏)

3. Will there be possible G!george T!dream stories in the future (and if so do you have any possible little thoughts to the stories that you might feel interested in writing that you want to share with the class) including this duo?

P.s (JUST LIKE WRITERS BLOCK I ALSO GET ART BLOCK TOO ((so it’s relatable for me😭))AND IT SUCKS BUT I WILL TRY TO GET ON DRAWING FANART FOR YOUR STORY)

double p.s( I HATE ART BLOCK) >:(

-AJ

HI AJ! You’ve given me a lot to think about here and I really appreciate that LOLOL

Tysm! I’m really flattered that the reception for Quiet 1/2 is really positive! I never planned on writing a lot for it but hey, I’m having fun. (I think I’ll end it at part 3 or 4 but idk)

1. We’ll if you mean in terms of g/t tropes to write, it’s hands down fearplay. Whether it’s a giant that knows what they’re doing to the tiny and just wants to scare them, a giant who doesn’t realize they’re being scary, or a giant forced to be scary to keep the ring safe, fearplay is the answer. To read, it’d have to be - and I know this is surprising - but fluff. I know, I know but most of my writing is scary shit and when I read I like to take a break from that lol.

If you meant general tropes outside of g/t, then I like writing romance (friends to lovers (to enemies 😳)), and I like reading fantasy action.

2. It’s basic but idc- Dnf all the way baby. I’ve been watching them since Minecraft Monday and they’ve given me never-ending brainrot since (they won’t leave my brain 🥲)

3. Most definitely! I like playing with the power roles and shifting them around. It’d get boring if every story I released would be g!Dream + t!George as the main focus characters. As of stories.. I have a few ideas that’ve been working in the brain, but for now they’re really brief. Idk if I’ll even use any of them. 🤷‍♂️

Society where giants and humans have lived in hostility for centuries. A school opens up with the purpose of socializing giants and humans, and does so with technology/magic (idk yet) that can make giants human-sized. George and Dream meet and slowly develop a friendship, and test the limits of a cross-species bond.

Borrowers have ranges of abilities, some can jump unnaturally high, some can see in the dark, etc. But the rarest ability one can have is size-shifting. George/Dream (idk which one yet) has this ability, and uses it to interact with human society. They make friends with Dream/George (again, idk) and the two form a close bond, and move in with each other. But the thing about size-shifting is that the borrower cannot hold their enlarged size for too long, they must shrink back every now and then to rebuild energy. The bad part? George/Dream never told their roommate that they weren’t human, and they’re feeling pretty tired all of a sudden.

George/Dream moves out to live alone at the very edge of a town to become a berry farmer, despite the warnings of the man-eating monsters in the woods. Most people gone missing appear to be those who take things from the forest, like lumber or fruit, so George/Dream refrain from taking anything that didn’t belong to him. He starts noticing things turning up in his property. He mentioned he needed a new water bucket, and one appeared. He needed more firewood, and some appeared. Was the forest being generous, or was it the deed of another grateful creature?

ALSO IK I HATE WRITERS BLOCK. Also I’m so flattered you want to draw something for Quiet! Of course don’t pressure yourself to do anything, you interacting with my stuff and sending me asks is already making me the happiest person ever :D

#mcyt g/t #answered #<333 #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t au #giant!dream #tiny!george #g/t author

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jisungscaramel · 4 years ago

Text

dare | han

❀ genre; smut, a little fluff, best friends au ❀ pairing; han jisung x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 2k

[warnings] explicit sexual content, oral, unprotected sex (be safe y’all), (mild) edging, cockwarming, saucy truth or dare

The intangible friction between you and your best friend was undeniable, yet with conviction, you held this idea that it was all in your head, and instead of fleshing out the inkling of frustration you felt every time you’d hang out, you chose to ignore it.

You chose to ignore the way he’d press his palms into the small of your back when he’d pull you close, the way he’d keep your body tight on his when he’d hug you, the way you’d catch his curious stares, the way his eyes seemed to send endless subliminal messages.

You chose to ignore the way the butterflies would flutter in your chest whenever that physical contact was made, the desire that would pool in the pit of your stomach whenever your wordless gazes collided.

You chose to ignore it.

Until today.

Honestly, you couldn’t say if he was on the same wavelength as you but as soon as he said these words on what you perceived to be a usual Netflix date (hold the chill), you were definitely suspicious: “Let’s play truth or dare.”

You knocked him on the head. “Han Jisung, you know there’s only two of us here… right?”

He blinked at you innocently and rather cutely, as if he couldn’t see the correlation between your questions. “Yes… you’re point?”

You clicked your tongue, sinking back into the worn in leather couch with your arms crossed. “Have you ever played truth or dare with just one other person? I sure as fuck haven’t.”

He rolled his eyes in an exaggeratedly exasperated manner. “No, but I don’t recall there ever being a rule saying you can’t.”

“But,” you turned to him to put on your best puppy dog face… which was mediocre at best but a valiant attempt, “don’t you wanna watch Avatar? We’re almost done with Book 2.”

“We watched it already… 4 times actually… in the past month.”

“Yes… your point?” you wrinkled your nose, repeating his previous words.

“Let’s do something different for a change.”

You turn the television off. “Ok fine,” drawing out the latter word as if it were stuck on your tongue.

Next thing you knew, he was constricting your body with his limbs, happily rubbing his cheek on yours like a child. “Yee!” and then all of sudden, he was sitting back, deadpan, folding his arms with determination. “Truth or dare?”

“Hmmm truth.”

And then that small child was back. “What? Why? That’s no fun!”

You shrugged. “You wanted to play truth or dare, remember? Emphasis on truth.”

“Fine, is it true that you hooked up with someone in the library?”

“Ji, I already told you that story.”

“I know, but it was so wild that I didn’t really believe you. Now you have to tell me the truth.”

“What makes you think I’d be any less truthful otherwise? And also, what makes you think that I’d absolutely tell you the truth now if I was possibly lying before?”

He widened his eyes and flared his nostrils in a rather comical manner. “If you can lie during truth or dare, you must be satan.”

You stared at him rather blankly, speaking quite frankly, “that… made no sense.”

His lips pressed into a firm line. “It does; you just won’t admit it.”

You snickered, rolling your eyes. “Whatever… truth or dare”

“Dare, I ain’t no bitch.”

You smacked his shoulder - playfully. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

And he pouted, rubbing his shoulder. “Nothing… nothing at all.”

“I dare you to leave Felix a voice note confessing your love to him.”

He offered you a begrudging glare but he wordlessly unlocked his phone with no hesitation, opening his messages with his roommate. He lifted the end to his lips: “Oi Felix! I just wanted to let you know that I love you bro.” He smiled in satisfaction as he sent the note.

“That’s not what I meant!” you protested.

To which, he shrugged. “You didn’t specify what kind of love.”

Your hand made contact with your face in embarrassment. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you,” he placed his palms on his cheeks to squish them, “love me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Ok, truth or dare?”

“...Just to make you happy: dare.”

“Hmmm,” he bit his lip in contemplation, “what should I get you to do?” he gripped his chin.

“Please don’t make me eat wasabi. I almost burned my nose off that one ti-”

“I dare you to kiss me… on the lips.”

When you met his eyes, you expected the usual teasing glint, but you saw none. He was dead serious, and you felt the saliva thicken in your throat, forcing you to swallow a little harder than normal.

As if your body was moving on its own, you leaned forward toward Jisung, resting your hands on his shoulders, distance lessening an inch by every passing moment. You were only planning on giving him a peck, but it just felt more natural to slightly part and purse your lips into a proper kiss. As your eyes fell shut, your heart began trembling in its confines, rattling your spine - you just hoped it wasn’t as obvious to him as it was to you.

His plush peach lips were as soft as you imagined - though you’d never admit you’d been imagining it in the first place. And for a moment, maybe two, you passed through the mix of emotional signals, focusing instead on the physical, the subliminal body language: how his hands found themselves on your hips, how his lips occasionally broke the rhythm to tug on your lower lip, how he’d let out the softest groans every time there was a change in pressure.

But then you removed yourself from your physical position, remembering the mental position you were in, biting your lips and looking away, biting your lips as if you wanted to say something, but your words clung to your throat - so you cleared it. “...truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you want me to kiss you?”

His expression was serious - something you weren’t used to. He leaned back, folding his arms, lips parted, tongue smoothing over his teeth to graze the edge of his top lip. “Same reason why you couldn’t get your hands off me.”

You didn’t even have a moment to be dissatisfied with his answer. “Truth or dare?” there was a sultry tone to his voice, and although it was out of character for him, it was perfectly in line with the vibe he was giving in that moment.

“Dare.” The first time you’d chosen that, it was for no reason other than to spare yourself of Jisung’s complaints, but this time? Curiosity laced your tongue, wondering where he would take it next, if he would take it anywhere at all.

“Go down on me.”

You tugged on your lower lip with your teeth as a subtle smirk grew on your face. Of course, he would. You got down on the floor, kneeling in front of him.

You placed your palm over his crotch, feeling a stirring beneath the fabric of his jeans. “Are you gonna help me with this?” You prodded the top button with your index finger.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You’re a big girl.”

Challenge accepted.

The finger on his button flicked it undone, but you took your time pulling the zipper down. You were in no rush.

But he was.

You could tell from the slightest gestures: the way his back kept sinking back in the couch, the way his fingers kept combing through his hair, the way he hissed under his breath, the way his hips rolled up - if you weren’t so close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed any of it.

When you finally took it upon yourself to free his personified frustration, you were taken aback, not because of his girth or the throbbing redness - although that was in the back of your mind. You were teetering on a metaphorical edge of your friendship. The kiss was one thing but now you were approaching the gate of no return. But you’d have plenty of time to worry about that later... and after the fact.

You let the lust shroud your head with its black clouds as you leaned in closer. You delicately ran the flat of your ring finger up his length while dragging your tongue down, eliciting an explicit gasp from him.

And he couldn’t help but squirm under you when you circled your tongue under the head, where he was the most sensitive.

Your lips secured around the tip, and you sunk them down as far as they could go, until they pressed firmly on his pelvis. The vulgar gurgling sound you inadvertently made while fighting your gag reflex only did more to stir his arousal.

“Fuck, since when were you this hot?”

You started bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollowing as a result of the increased suction. Every now and then, you’d slow down to trace his prominent veins with your tongue, and when you’d pick up your pace again, grunts and groans continuously trickled down his lips.

You wanted to smirk. Your nostrils flared as the corners of your lips lifted up as much as they could in their limiting position. You had to take your hands away from his hip and the base of his dick to place them behind your back just to show off.

When Jisung’s sounds became gruffer and more primal, you had an inlinking of what was to come. So, you stopped, smacking your lips with a loud pop.

“Truth or dare?” Desire poured from your half-lidded eyes, lacing your voice in a tone that sent electricity through Jisung’s nerves.

“...Dare,” he whispered, still heavily breathing.

You stood up. “Take your pants off and don’t move for the next five minutes… no matter what.”

He peered up at you with suspicious eyes, but did as you asked. His suspicion turned into surprise as you pulled your leggings and panty off in one motion, setting the garments on the ground.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a strained voice as you straddled him, gripping the back of the couch for support, aligning your now-dripping heat over his erection.

“Making,” you started lowering yourself, taking him in, “things more,” all in, “interesting.”

He threw his head back, “Fuck.”

“Remember,” you tapped your phone on the other side of the couch to see the time, “no moving for five minutes.”

“You’re so evil.” He glared at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you knew this already.”

“I didn’t-” his attempt to amend his statement was cut short when you attached your lips to his jaw, trailing kisses up its line, slowly, taking your time.

He held his breath when yours blew into his ear, heat searing his skin, and you could feel him twitch inside you.

“I’m gonna destroy you when my turn is up.”

You tapped his chin with your finger. “If you can manage to behave until then.”

“You think I can’t?”

“It’s not that I think you can’t… I just don’t think you can.” You waved your hips to increase the pressure between your connected skin, and you could tell he had to bite his tongue just to suppress a moan.

When your lips latched onto his neck, he gulped, staring at the clock at the other end of the room. He tried to fixate on the constant movement of the second hand, but his body had a different agenda, preferring to focus on how good your lips felt on his sensitive skin, how you alternated between sweet pecks and French kisses, hard sucking and soft nibbling.

He felt the heat radiating from his skin, sweat dripping down the back of his neck as a result of his attempt to hold himself back. He grit his teeth, frustration crippling his body; he was this close to caving, this close.

“Time.”

He bucked his hips up, gripping yours tightly. “Such a fucking tease.” But he still held back, keeping his pumping slow and steady. “Truth or dare?”

You crashed your body to match his tempo. “Truth.”

“Do you want it harder?”

“...Yes.”

><><><><><><><

A/N This one is also a reimagined version of a scenario I wrote for a different idol years ago

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ask-fowlham · 7 years ago

Photo

T: And we’re very happy together!! <3

#fowlham #rc9gn #randy cunningham #theresa fowler #ask-fowlham #answered #((mm im not gonna tag the askers bc these asks are so old lol))#((at this point im just running this blog for my own enjoyment))#((but keep sending in questions!! i love answering them and it forces me 2 Draw))#((lmao my art style is so...inconsistent....sorry))

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years ago

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you’re someone i just want around: VII

Sunflower, my eyes

Want you more than a melody

Let me inside

Wish I could get to know you

Sunflower Vol. 6, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 26.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because surprises are fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not like you have standards.”

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s debatable.” Xander corrects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the point.”

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

“Your dick’s probably small, anyways.”

“Bigger than yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

Y/N isn’t lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh yes, I am.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re disgustingly conceited.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Thrown away.”

“No.”

“Folded up and tucked under the bed?”

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

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

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

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